An Excerpt from My First Novel

A month ago I published my first novel, The Spartan Sisters.  It is a novel of the Trojan War, but not with the supernatural things you might expect from Greek mythology.  I wanted to introduce you to the novel, by giving you the prologue to Part I. 

Screams surrounded me as I ran. Terrifying screams.  Blood curdling screams.  I heard women watching the nightmare of their men dying and their children being thrown out of high windows onto the flaming streets below.  It did not stop the screams.  They grew louder and louder.

“He must not live!” A voice shouted at me.  I felt the baby in my belly writhe and squirm.  He wanted out of this horror.

I could not find my husband and that made me more afraid than I had ever imagined possible.  Where was a place of safety I could run to?  Why was he not with me?  I ran through the dark corridors lit with only the grotesque reflections of the flames on the walls.  I could not find him.  My husband was gone.  It happened.  They are here, bringing death and fire.

“If he lives, there will only be flames.”

The streets were ablaze.  Fire was exploding from one building and its sparks lighting another.  Fire was consuming the streets.  It flowed from one place to the next, like blood flowing from a wound.  The earth seemed to be belching fire from every exposed crevice.  People were dying by swords if they ventured out of their burning homes.  Children were being tossed off of the ramparts of the city.  I could see it from where I stood.

I saw a woman, a beautiful woman with auburn hair flowing in the wind, standing on the Citadel, kindling the fire before Apollo's temple, but that was not the cause of the flame.  Priestesses were gathering to her side, on their knees praying to the gods, who would not listen. A single man protected them, but demons pushed forward killing him and raping the priestesses.  Yet more fire poured from the temple.

The woman looked directly at me, with desperation in her voice, said, “If he lives, we will all die.”

I saw myself huddled around an altar with children and an old man, watching the blood pour from his belly and turn into more flames.  The flames caught the Great Hall; it burned in a mountain of flames.  None could stand near it.  I saw the children, boys being thrown to their deaths and girls raped.  And more flames.

I saw Athena leave her temple, shaking her head in sorrow, as she vanished in the flames.  The city fell in ruins around me.

I woke screaming, the pain in my belly a fire.  He was coming any minute.  I could feel him burning as he came.

“I saw flames!” I screamed through my pain.

“It is just the baby coming,” comforted Xanthe, my Scythian slave.

“No!”  I screamed in pain worse than I could imagine.  None of my children had left me with so much pain.  Was I dying?  “Call my husband.  Call the priest of Apollo.”

Xanthe hurried from the room.  Chloe, a slave that was but a child of ten, brought in warm water and washed my face and neck.  Iolanthe, a slave that had seen me born, sat beside me, holding my hand, humming a comforting lullaby.

It was ten minutes until my husband came.  I told him the dream and he looked at me puzzled. 

“It was just a dream,” he said.  “You are having pain because of the child.”

“It is an ominous dream,” the high priest announced.  My husband scoffed.  “There was an earthquake today.  You know this, my king.  Athena’s statue fell in the quake.”

“I saw her leave,” I said.  “There were flames everywhere.  Men were being killed by demons and women being raped.  The little boys were being thrown from the city walls.  There were flames everywhere, and I saw Athena leave our city.”

“Does this have a true meaning,” my husband asked, slowly seeing the connection.  “Or is this the pain from the baby being born?”

“It portends destruction, but how it relates to the baby I am not sure.”

“The woman standing in front of Apollo’s temple kept saying, ‘if he lives, everything will be in flames.”

A young initiate of the College of Seers spoke up.  He was a Greek.  “It means if this baby lives, the city will be destroyed by fire.”

“We must protect my baby.  He will be a son.”

My husband pulled the high priest aside, conferring in hushed voices.  The pain began again.  It burned inside me, as I heard the words “die,” “fire,” and “destruction.”  What did this mean?  I didn’t care.  The pain ripped apart my insides.  It was more than I could bear.

“He’s killing me!” I screamed, as I lost consciousness.

I awoke, feeling rested.  The room was quiet.  Iolanthe slept in a corner.  I could see splatters of blood on her apron.  Where was he?

“Iolanthe?” I asked in a weak voice.

Xanthe came in when she heard me speak.  Iolanthe woke up and came to my side to hold my hand.  “It is time to rest, my queen,” Iolanthe said fussing with my covers.  I was cold.

“Where is he?” I asked weakly.

“Your husband, the king, has gone to tend to matters,” Xanthe said tearily.

“My son?  Where is my son?”

Xanthe looked at Iolanthe for support.  “Leave, child,” the older woman ordered.   The girl left wiping tears from her eyes.  “Now is the time to rest, my queen.”  She took a wet clothe and brushed my brow.  It was cold.

“Iolanthe, I bore a son?”

“Yes, you had a son,” Iolanthe answered in a broken voice.

“Where is he?  I want to see my son.”

The old woman could only cry.  I knew he was dead.

The young man studying at the College of Seers, was from Mycenae in Greece.  He had been here since the death of his king.  He loved Troy.  Even now he was courting a girl who was a niece of the king.  He loved Troy, but often had premonitions.  He knew danger approached.  He did not know what, until he stood in the queen’s bedchamber.  Then he knew.

The city was going to die because of a boy; this baby he held in his arms.  The high priest had consulted signs of the earthquake, birds, and strange clouds at sunset.  He ordered him to sacrifice a lamb, only to find it infested with black cancer in the belly.  When he showed the high priest, it was agreed the birth of this boy portended destruction.

The king would not have his son killed like some vermin.  He ordered him to carry him out of the city and dispose of him in a wild spot.  If the gods will it, his son would live.  If not, he would die.

He found himself walking up a lonely path in the rocky expanse of Ida.  The winter winds blew around him.  The baby had never been fed, yet he did not cry.  He was silent.  From time to time, he stopped and looked at him, wondering if he was alive or dead.  Each time the baby squirmed in his grip, but did not make a sound.

Finally, he found a hidden spot on this forsaken mountain.  It was deserted.  Nobody would find the baby, but wild animals.

“If there is a god in heaven,” he prayed tearfully, “let this baby live.”  He laid him down beneath a scraggly, deformed oak, wrapped the blanket carefully around the babe’s face, then ran down the mountain.

He did not see a young woman, hidden in the bushes.  She was easily not seen, being the color of the land around her.  Carefully she walked over to the bundle.  She nudged it with her feet and was startled when it moved.  Her dog sniffed it and whimpered.  She bent down and uncovered the baby.

Hecuba woke in the night again dreaming of the city on fire.  While writhing in agony, she screamed, “His name is Paris, because I know he lives.”

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Whether you have an Amazon Kindle or not, you can buy this for your computer or whatever device you normally use.  If you look under the picture of the book cover, there is a link that says, “Read on any Device.”  The app is free to download and then you can read my book on your home computer, iPhone, or tablet device.

You can find it easily on the link below:

Spartan Sisters by Mark Potter