Troy story opening

Dearest Muses, Goddesses wise, fill our hearts with passion, and our words with beauty. Sing to us of days long past, of great love and great hatred; of the bravest heroes and wisest men. Tell us of the most beautiful woman ever seen. Tell us of the Gods of Olympus and the war they wrought among men. Let not the tale be forgotten of the nine-year war at Ilium, called Troy.

“Are you going?” Eris demanded, eyes sparkling with anger.

“Yes, of course I am. Everyone is going.”

“I am not going.”

Ares, god of war, did not look up from sharpening his knife before responding. “Dear sister, why so angry now? This wedding will be the greatest we have seen in many years, and the greatest for a long time to come. It would not be proper to spurn them on this day. You really must go. If you don’t care to celebrate the bride and groom, will you at least come as a favour to me?” He put his knife down and reached for his sisters hand, holding her delicate fingers in his calloused ones. With her other hand Eris picked at her wings, preening, pretending indifference. She looked at her brother, at his stern, hard face, and sighed.

“If it means so much to you, Ares, that I come, then I will. For you, of course.”

“Thank you, sister.” Ares leaned back, relaxed, and sipped at his nectar. They sat in silence, listening to the night. After a few moments, Ares spoke again. “Out of curiosity, my lovely maker of strife, why is it that you did not want to go? Did Thetis offend you in some way? Or Peleus? It is unlike you to miss a good wedding.”

“No reason, War-maker, to cause any alarm,” Eris said delicately. Ares laughed.

“Now I know you have something planned. What is it? Why did you want to miss that wedding?”

“It’s silly, really, now that I think about it. But I had thought to miss it because I was not invited,” she smiled innocently. Ares laughed again.

“So, darling Discord, you used me! Now you have given me your word that you are coming, and you would not break your word once given. So tell me--what is your plan?”

Eris smiled dryly, knowing her brother was smarter than that. He had smelled her trap the moment she invited him over, walking into it willingly. The God of War could not be fooled by the tactics of others, but accepted or rejected them as he pleased. She wondered why he would go along with her now? Did he feel he owed her a favour, or debt? Was he growing bored of things and hoping for a little amusement? Perhaps he was just being nice. It was a rare thing, for Ares to have no other motive, but she was his sister, so occasionally he did humour her. Still, Eris thought, something felt different about this. Ares was too comfortable, too happy. Could her will to play a little trick at a wedding possibly lead to something bigger? She could not see how.

“It’s just a small thing, brother, that I would like to do. I won’t ruin the wedding, or harm anyone, I promise. Peleus and Thetis have invited everyone. Every god, every halfling, every celebrated mortal. Absolutely everyone has been invited except for me,” Eris said bitterly, stamping her little for on the floor for emphasis. “What were they thinking? Is there a worse way to offend a person? My pride is hurt. Clearly, Thetis was hoping to avoid trouble. But to spurn me? I can’t allow that. Perhaps I am not so cared for as you, brother, nor as popular as most of out kin; but I am not to be trifled with and mean to impress that fact upon her. Thetis wants this day to be all about her, and thinks that I am a threat to her. I will teach her who the real threats are in Olympus.”

“Very well,” Ares replied, “I see you do not wish to tell me your plan, if you have one. In that case, sister, know that i wait in suspense to see what you come up with.” Now it was Eris’ turn to laugh. Her brother’s good cheer spread through her, quickly abating her anger. Perhaps he was just having some fun after all.

As the evening grew darker and the moon brighter, Ares made his excuses and left rather than stay the night. He was eager make his report to Zeus that Eris would plant the seed at the wedding. Ares shivered with anticipation. He had sat idle for too long, and was ready to bring war to men once again.


***

The wedding went smoothly as Thetis, daughter of Neptune, and Peleus, son of Aeacus, son of Zeus, took each other’s hands and swore to honour each other as long as they might live. The Nereid’s silver feet glistened on the sandy shores as they led the way to the banquet, her chin held high with pride at the thought of the elaborate feast they would have in her honour.

It’s match could only be met in the houses of gods. Servants carried in tray after tray of roasted lamb, boar, and venison. The guests chatted and gossiped about the stories they had heard of Peleus’ hunting party. They say he took down a boar all alone. Perhaps this is the one? The meat was flavoured with garlic and spices from the east, served with lentils and chick peas. The tables were heavy with barley bread, olives, grapes, and honeycomb, cheeses, sweet dates, and plums. Wine flowed quickly and freely.

Each of the guests, god and human, took their turn to congratulate the newly weds, laying glorious gifts at their feet. Tapestries, wine, livestock, armour for Peleus and dresses for Thetis. They in turn played the gracious hosts and returned the favours with gifts of their own. Gold and silver goblets, bowls, and pottery. The ambiance was so perfect and so festive. Ares had a faint smile on his lips as the line for gift giving grew shorter, sure his sister Strife would act soon. And as the guests resumed their seats for another toast, he saw a movement among the shadows--barely perceptible if one had not been watching. A moment later, from behind a pillar at the end of the hall, came an apple, rolling across the floor into the centre of the room.

How very simple, Ares thought to himself. An apple, symbol of fertility, youth, and health. He sat back and waited. The room turned silent as one by one the guests noticed the apple sitting in the middle of the floor. It was perfect. Not a scratch or bruise. And it wore a golden skin. Clearly, a product of Olympus, and a fitting gift for such a wedding. Finally, Aphrodite stood from her cushions and went to retrieve the shining object. She picked it up, gracefully, of course, and held in sensually in front her lips as she inhaled its sweet smell. Ares wondered if it came from the garden of Hesperides.

“Oh my,” she said. “I have never seen anything quite like this.” She turned it slowly in her hands, examining its perfection, and was about to hand it to Thetis, but then she stopped.

“What is it, sister?” Ares asked, quite intrigued now.

“There’s an inscription,” Aphrodite replied. “It says, ‘to the fairest’ on one side.” Ares allowed himself a small smile. Clever, Ares thought.

“Then it can’t be meant for me,” Thetis said humbly, although everyone in the room knew it to be false modesty, a way to pretend to reluctantly accept a wedding gift without offending the gods. She thought, perhaps, that it was a couples gift from Peleus, but when she looked at her bridegroom his face was puzzled. Thetis’ modest approach did not work with Aphrodite.

“Then clearly it was meant for me!” the goddess replied, giggling.

“For you?” came the challenge. Athena. “How ridiculous. You may govern love, and lust, and beauty. But fairness, dear sister, comes from within. It is mine.”

“Fair of complexion, of manners? These things I am, Athena, and you are lacking in them. All you do is hunt and fight. I govern fairness, not you.”

“Outside of my golden armour, I too am fair. And I believe my complexion is nicer than yours.” A few feet away, Thetis leaped to her shining feet. She may only be nymph, but it was her wedding, and not to be ruined. But before she could speak, someone else did.

“Enough!” A cool voice echoed through the halls as Hera stood, tall and strong, her golden hair hanging in curls down to her fair arms. “I am wife of Zeus, stronger, more beautiful, more lovely than either of you. If that apple belongs to anyone, it is mine.” Aphrodite’s eyes narrowed as she looked to Zeus. Only one man could settle this now. Ares had to hide his grin behind his goblet.

Zeus thought, carefully, catching Ares’ eye as he did so. Finally, he spoke. “I cannot decide between you. If I choose, I risk the wrath of my wife and my daughters. My friends and brothers may be offended as well. If I choose you, Hera, they will say it was an obligation, that the contest was not fairly judged. Yet if I do not choose you, you will never speak to me again! This is not a fair question to ask of me.”

“Then who on earth and in heaven could possibly decide fairly between us?” The women demanded.

“We will have to choose an outsider. Someone small and insignificant, someone who does not risk your wrath, or mine, but will be rewarded for doing us this favour so long as we promise not to seek vengeance on him for his choice.”

And thusly was Thetis the river nymph forgotten on her wedding day, and Eris pleased with her vengeance.
***

The gods found a shepherd in the Troad who minded the livestock for his parents. The boy was young and beautiful, and sat in the shade of a tree playing the lyre to himself. He was stubborn, proudful, and a little too self-centred; but had a reputation for being fair and unhesitating to do the right thing.

Ares recommended the young man to Zeus, telling the Cloud-gatherer of his recent escapade as a bull. The shepherd, Alexandros, had a prize bull more beautiful than any in the Troad. This bothered Ares who wanted the bull for himself, and thought a mortal should be less proud. So he challenged Alexandros to a contest saying that his bull was nicer. They set the stakes so that the winning party would keep the loser’s bull. Ares won, of course, but was startled by how quickly Alexandros admitted defeat and handed his prize bull over to Ares. Most men would have argued and tried to get out of the deal altogether rather than lose such a prize animal; and Ares had not forgotten the fairness shown to him by the mortal Alexandros.

Zeus decided that Ares’ candidate won out the others, and promptly sent Hermes to escort the women to the poor shepherd who would undoubtedly face the wrath of the losing goddesses, despite all their protestations.