Ãndrõmakhê
An Award-winning Epic Novel of Troy and a Woman's Triumphant Valor
(Lands of the Morning ™ Series, Book 6)
In memory of Louise Halley Forshaw, who laid the groundwork
©Kristina O’Donnelly, a.k.a Kristin V Donnelly, 2006.
"Kristina O'Donnelly takes the immortal tale of Troy – gods, heroes, and battles, but gives us the woman's take. The strong women that are victimized by the violence, yet survive and ultimately rise above it. O'Donnelly has done a great job taking the violent male-centered story of The Iliad and bringing it a female perspective. O'Donnelly's research brings an added dimension to the story. Magic, fate, prophesy, talking animals, and reincarnation all play a role in this richly textured and powerful story. Andromakhe is the must-read novel for 2006."
Rob Preece, Publisher, Author of Veil of the Goddess
Ãndrõmakhê
Introduction and Synopsis
"The end of Troy will never end ... The flame that consumed it, will itself never be consumed." [G. K. Chesterton]
"... (Andromakhe) ... a grim, hard-hitting story showing the subjugation of women that was and still is standard practice in much of the world." Piers Anthony, Author
"Kristina O'Donnelly does it again! Get ready to be swept away in this magnificently written novel of history, love, war, suspense, action, bravery and mystery. Kristina's research of history combined with this fascinating tale takes the reader on an exciting fast paced journey. Andromakhe is a well written, hauntingly beautiful story. A must-read epic for all. (It would make a stupendous movie too!) Readers of Mary Renault and Marion Zimmer Bradley are certain to enjoy Andromakhe!" Caryn Day-Suarez, President - POW! Toastmasters - Jacksonville, Host of "The POW Show" - Weekly on WJGR 1320 AM
Discoveries made at the beginning of the 21st Century A.D. on site in Chanakkale, Turkey, provide strong new evidence of a sophisticated Bronze Age city and fierce armed battles in the right area, at the right time. Simply put, archaeology and mythology support each other to a surprising degree. For example, many of the towns and locales mentioned by Homer, obscured during the time he wrote the Iliad (ca. 8th Century B.C.) are proven to be real Bronze Age settlements; 13th Century B.C. tablets unearthed in Greece, lists names of women abducted from Troy, and Hittite tablets from the era, mention a Wilusian nobleman/king in hand-to-hand combat against a rival.
For three-thousand years, Hector and Andromache of the Iliad have symbolized the archetypical loving and loyal husband and wife. Most novels about the Trojan War end with the Fall of Troy. But here, as we dwell in Andromâkhe’s life, we live through the main as well as pre and post-Iliad years. Love, hate, greed, war, intrigue, heroes and villains combine with authenticated geography/history, offering an intimate view into the Bronze Age. Viewed by history as the 'good wife,' in contrast to bad-wife, Helen, in ANDROMAKHE, this powerful princess becomes three-dimensional. Andromakhe loves her husband, joins with him in his hopeless battle to overcome the fates and oracles that assure the destruction of Troy and of their way of life. She recognizes her role as a commodity in the game of Empire, but wishes she could be an Amazon like Penthesilea, the Amazon Queen. Touched by the Goddess, Andromakhe can see the Olympian gods--and the havoc they wreck.
We meet her at age thirteen, as a Princess in Mysian Thébé, and follow her life from marriage to Hektôr, Prince of Troia, through the siege of Troia by the Achaians – modern day Greeks – and Troy’s destruction.
But Fates have declared that she must survive and triumph over more heartbreak and tragedy. After Troia’s fall, she is tossed to Epirus—modern day Albania—as a captive, where Hermione, daughter of King Menelos, tries to murder her, then back to Teuthrania, near Mysia, where she rises as the Patroness of the Kingdom of Pergamos—modern day Bergama, in Turkey. Haunted by flashes of a previous life in a land called Shardana, she has a mysterious bond with Alexis (Paris) Prince of Troy.
Admired by the legendary Memnon, King of Ethiopia, who comes to Troia’s aid after Hektôr’s death, to win her as prize, to Pyrrhos Neoptolemus, son of Akhilles, who enslaves her and loves and hates her at the same time, to Hektôr’s brother Helenos, a warrior, seer, a priest of Apollo, and King, men battle gods and fates to win Hektôr’s widow, whose heart remains faithful to him even beyond his death.
Ãndrõmakhê
Chapter 1
Circa 1250-1180 B.C.E., Anatolia/Asia Minor
A new scream ripped through the air, more agonized yet, and I jumped, tears stinging my eyes as I envisioned the blood pouring out of my mother while she writhed on the birthing chair. How many times had I felt so terrified, waiting at the births of my younger brothers? Trembling like a leaf on the wind, I was standing at a window in my father’s palace, watching tall masts spearing the blue sky above the farthest olive groves. Those masts, playground for noisy seagulls, tilted gently as water lapped against the stone quay of our port-town.
Strangled by helplessness, I had had to flee from the screaming—my mother’s.
Another scream exploded in the air, like the howl of an animal, sending me racing for the doorway. I paused there as my father’s field-boots thudded up the stairs and along to the birth-room.
Moving softly, I looked out and observed with terror that he was about to break taboo by entering that room. I crept down the stairs, sped to a dark corner of the Hall near the entrance, and crouched down.
A harshly efficient female voice struck my ears, “Stop worrying, Lord! There is olive on the front door, isn’t there? No evil spirits are about; the pitch is safely on the lintel, isn’t it? You hurry and make those sacrifices, Lord! I’m busy.” Having had her say, Nurse Mykale whipped the door to his face, its noise striking me like a sling-stone.
Rising on tiptoes, heart thumping in my throat, I took a few steps, craning my neck to get a better look. In the center of the Hall, Father was pacing around the firepit. Now he paused, a gigantic, kind-faced, red-hair and bearded man with sea-blue eyes, King Êetiôn, ruling from holy Thébé, south of Troia and Mount Ida, resting a scarred hand on the family altar beside the firepit.
When he let out a ragged sigh and blinked rapidly, I suspected tears. I burned to offer comfort, but did not dare; he would not want me to see him so vulnerable.
After a frozen moment, he regained momentum, strode past me without seeing me and out through the door, hurrying to the shrine atop Plakos Hill, as bidden. A warm smell of loam lingered in his wake; he had been out with his men at the plow. But now he must beseech the Goddess to protect his beloved wife. Once again terror grasped my shoulders, shaking me violently. Nurse Mykale had often grumbled that this pregnancy was not as normal as all the previous six had been. Was the Goddess indeed angry? I knew well about divine anger because of my own horoscope. It had been foretold at my birth that I must beware of a blessing that would bring a cruel fate upon me.
Footsteps from an inside passageway announced Althaia, a thin, dark-haired, servant girl. She was carrying my brother Thoon in the crook of one arm, a large purple bruise on his little white rear. He was only just out of swaddlings and getting into trouble as he crawled around or tried to stand up on his own.
Althaia stood him beside me. “Everything male must get out of here or your mother’s pains will get worse!” she screamed, “Take him away and chase out all the dogs and ganders—and your brothers, too, if you see them. They’re to be no closer than the outer courtyard.”
Hurrying to the hearth, Althaia bent and retrieved a ceremonial pot of silver. She then scrambled back to where she had come from, without another glance.
I ambled to my feet with clenched fists, determined to protect my mother. Her agonized screams were filling the palace again. Oh, Holy Ilythia, Goddess of Childbirth! Help her! Mother was going to be killed by the dangerous process of giving life!
Thoon howled his protest as I grabbed his pudgy little hand, dragging him as fast as I could, into the courtyard. Anger mingled with fear as I struggled with my tiny brother through the doorway—anger that I was not allowed to see and comfort, Mother. With only thirteen summers to my credit, I was not yet old enough to trap the child’s spirit in my womb. Really, Mykale was a tyrant, always asserting her rights as the Queen’s nurse from her childhood days in Miletos.
Dragging Thoon into the bright sunlight of the inner court, I scowled up at the smiling Helios, Sungod, riding the noon sky in his chariot; hah, he need not be so cheerful.
I then came upon my oldest brother, eighteen-year old, redheaded, freckled Andros, absorbed in training a clumsily playful puppy to heel, with little success.
“The taboo, Andros!” I cried, “The males of everything have to leave immediately! Go, go now!”
One terrible scream silenced me and paralyzed my brother.
I streaked back to the door, leaving little Thoon to wrestle with the play-barking puppy.
At last an ominous silence was followed by the tentative cry of a newborn.
I dropped to my knees. “Oh, thank you, Goddess!” Glory be, my mother had performed another miracle with Her help.
Streaks of reddish light tingled through my arms and fingers, and I smiled triumphantly on Mother’s behalf: Nothing could be more wonderful than being female, and giving new life.....
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used as fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information or storage retrieval system, without the express consent of the copyright holder © Kristina O'Donnelly
Kaleidoscopic, exotic, international, Lands of the Morning™ Series is Michenesque in scope. The trials, tribulations and triumphs of three respective families are traced from their roots in the mists of pre-history. They are the Berks, Trojans, the Alkibiades', Greeks, and the Kayhans, Turks.
Briefly, the series of ten novels is an arabesque of culturally/ethnically diverse history, mythology, politics, consuming passions, suspense/thrillers, ambition, triumph and tribulation, woven on a rich tapestry.
Skeins of exotic people, places and customs rooted in Turkey and branching out to Arabia, Ireland, Israel, Sardinia, Illyria, and United States of America, interlace the subplots with the fast-growing scheme of events, which always climax in unexpected denouements.
The fruit of lifetime of research and writing, this series is fiction based upon authentic contemporary/historical backgrounds and events.
Although woven upon a timeline, each novel can be read independently.
Sele
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Andromakhe©Kristina O’Donnelly, a.k.a Kristin V Donnelly, 2006.
Andromakhe cover art: Karen Lyster
