Olympnomachi Book 13: The Curse of the Heirs of Neofytus

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In this way Ares arranged for both the great-grandchildren of Neofytus to be consumed by hatred for one another, little knowing he was but a puppet playing a role in the grand manipulations of Macaria. All to punish Neofytus for the crime of breaking into her fortress, with the great hero likely at this time twisting and squirming about in the cursed chair, she had chained him to.

Ocyale it was who arose mighty and swift as only Atalanta could be, and thrice as ferocious in nature. Long before her cousin Demosthenes, ever grew to full adulthood and strength, Ocyale was to prove herself a great warrior.

Proud and strong, she was to at the age of fourteen already have the strength of a man, and requested the spear given to her father.

Where Timothea had always favoured Ocyale’s sister Fevronia, who was seven years her eldest daughter’s junior, Katrios favoured the eldest of their children. Acquiescing at once, he hardly considered refusing given the conditions given to him by his god.

It happened that though he had grown comfortable as King of Cadmus, Timothea had hardly taken to her role, believing it inevitable that her cousin should return with the intention of vengeance. This was why she arranged for the finest master-builder of the realm, Karolos to dig for her an underground tunnel below the keep over the course of the long years that had followed, her revenge.

“As you hath always wished for, here is thy inheritance as promised on the night of thy birth,” Katrios murmured to her, whilst seated upon his high bronze throne that overlooked the whole of the thirty-meter long and tall hall of great bronzed stones and royal crimson carpets.

In all the years he had ruled, he never felt prouder than at that moment, and was to swear to mark this moment in his memory as such. It happened though that later Ocyale was to depart without his leave, for the lands to the west where she hoped to test her might as was her wont against the Dire Wolves that had made their nest there.

These she hunted for a great many weeks, slaying and killing them before she made to test her might and spear against the Dire Lions also known by some as the ‘Neméréan’ Lions, for they lived in great numbers near Neméréa. It was there that she slew with the aid of the mighty weapon her father had gifted her, three of them, for the spear was forged by Hepheastus and thus more than sharp enough to pierce their impenetrable hides.

If her feats in the hunt impressed some, it was her accomplishments in war against the neighbouring kings that won her the most praise. Before her twentieth year, she had already marched to war against the likes of the Amazons from distant Namavo from the west, against the kingdoms of Minreva, Laichra, Kharinth, and Mackenya.

It was this last one that won her the most fame, or infamy if you will in some circles. It happened to be her victory over the warrior-king Actaeon I in the battle of the fields of Mackeira that won her a great deal of praise. The murder of his wife thereafter when his home-city was invaded along with the execution of the King’s ten year old stepson that won for her a great deal of infamy.

The murder which took place in a temple of Aphrodite aroused in the goddess, such fury and hatred as the boy had been devoted to her, and his mother beloved by her. This latter love was borne from the woman having every month since her marriage some eight years prior, given thanks for this second marriage.

Such was the anger that Aphrodite felt, she likewise cursed Ocyale to never know proper love and for her line to come to end in blood. This Ocyale sneered at, her disdain such that she captured at once the concern of a great many others around her.

Shaken, the King of Kharinth whom had hired her and the Cadman Swords’ company she had been enlisted into, said to her, “If the goddess Aphrodite’s disfavour you have won, I pray that ye keep it solely to thy own self without sharing it with we unfortunate mere mortals.”

This King, wise and learned as he was in the old ways knew all too well that the displeasure she had garnered for herself, by the goddess Aphrodite and the others was unlikely to touch her and her alone. Frightened for himself and his realm, he sought to have her chased out from his realm whereupon he was slain by the young woman, shortly after his assumption of the throne of Mackenya.

Infuriated, the newly crowned King of Kharinth, Andreas I renowned as the finest of all warriors in the whole of the lands of Doria, when he learnt of this misdeed gathered his armies and gave chase. Frightened of the King, Ocyale sought refuge at first within the temple of Zeus, who she feared might prove angry at her broken oaths so that she thought better of it, and preferred to seek refuge in the shrine of her benefactor.

Finding the temple of Ares within the principal city of Mackenya, Pellenas, there it was that she sought safety. It happened that this was not what her god had in mind, as he was to visit her there promising safety and security before he appeared before her. Casting aside the spear he had had forged for her, he was to seize her.

It was a year later that she gave birth to her daughter Ocmene, who was from birth to amaze and awe all around her with her beauty. Only Ocyale, who abode at that time in secret in the home of a nobleman she had taken on as a lover shortly after her murder of the King Andreas’ father, was seized by a profound dislike for her daughter.

“Take this child away,” She commanded her lover, “I would sacrifice her in the ancient custom of those who worship the likes of Loki.”

Though he attempted to protest, the nobleman Amphitreus was to reluctantly do as bidden wherefore he handed the child to one of his kitchen-servants who was to go to do as commanded. However, when at last he stood before the temple of Loki just outside the city (for it was forbidden within Pellenas itself). When called forth to sacrifice the young babe, he could not and instead returned to the city, frightened yet resolved to report his failure to the nobleman.

Amphitreus was angered by this failure on his servant’s part, so that he was to leave to accomplish the deed himself also. Yet just as the temple into view, Ocmene burst into tears so that the heart of Ocyale’s lover was rent with grief at the thought of so lovely a child being murdered.

Thinking that to proceed could only prove to be a sin; he was to turn away also. It was upon the return journey that he resolved to hide the child’s survival from Ocyale, so that when he presented himself before her, he told her, “It is done.”

Satisfied that her child had perished she spent some time recovering from childbirth. It took her many months to do this, yet when she felt hale again she was to depart once more for the south, resolved to set aright at this time the feud of her forebears with those of her cousin, if in her own way.

*****

While Ocyale had gone north, to campaign against beasts and men, and to spread knowledge of her name, boasting of her bond with Ares the kingdom she had deserted was left reeling at her betrayal. Never before had a daughter destroyed her own father, in so brazen a manner, nor had there ever been more suitable prey on the part of the Furies who tormented the wicked young woman to her end-days (and some say beyond them also).

The death of Katrios left Timothea, and Ocyale’s sisters without a protector. No longer able to retain the throne or defend themselves, they were to resort to flight to the kingdom of Lakedaeiron. It was yonder to the south they wished to go, however they made it only as far as Minevra ere they were seized by King Agapitos.

Imprisoned once more, it happened that were it not for the King’s pity they might have faced worse, yet though fearful of Neoptolemus his better nature won out. There was thus good reason to hope that Neoptolemus might well avert his gaze from them. In this they were to vastly underestimate how terrible his hatred of the line of Katrios truly was.

King by this time for several months, he was to pursue war against Agapitos and his realm in the hopes that he might dethrone him. This he did if briefly so, with Ocyale’s family narrowly escaping though it came at the cost of the guards who had become friends to them. They were escorted out from the city by a Tigrun guard, who brought them out from that place to the great woods to the north of the city.

It was therein the woodland place of the Elves, he threw himself prostrate upon the ground and begged that the Lady Timothea and her daughters be allowed entry. The lady and her remaining daughters did much the same, at which time they were accepted, though they did so under assumed names.

Timothea took up the name of Thlípsia, which means ‘she who grieves’, while her second eldest daughter Eurydice took up the name of Lýpia, and third daughter Euthymia was to take up that of Hupotassia. In this way the women entered the Elvish Kingdom of Elkereth under disguise, with the Elves none the wiser.

Their King was Dalyian, who was the wisest and greatest of all the Elves alive in that age, in the whole of the Dorian Peninsula. It was there that his ancestors had established themselves many millennia ago long before the arrival of man. It was for this reason that he had claimed the great forests that stretched throughout the peninsula as his own realm, and why he permitted men but begrudgingly to hunt in the woods. They in turn were forced to seek his approval, his permission to hunt, it happened though that they dwelt there for a time with him. Each of them eager to leave the life they once led behind them, even as they became ever more enchanted by their hosts.

It happened that they came to fancy a number of those who lived therein the forest with them, this much to the consternation of the Elves. This was because, it was not their way to wed the daughters of men, and they felt that the stay of the women was meant to be a temporary thing.

Yet what plagued King Dalyan’s spirit the most about his newfound guests, was their good manners and high education. He knew at once that this was not something one might expect from ordinary peasant women, but highly educated noble and royal ladies.

This along with the many nightmares and visions that came to him in those days, convinced him to consult with his half-brother Dinval, the wisest of the Papás of the Elves. He alone, the King decided could elucidate on the great worries that weighed upon him.

“You hath accepted into thy house, the women of the house of Neofytus. They must be cast out, if our people are to survive,” Dinval warned him sadly, “This will bring dishonour upon our house. However, better dishonour than death for all our people, when the women are destined to perish before the year’s end regardless what we do.”

At the first Dalyan resisted yet with time he was pressured to release them from his house by his people when the servants of his house revealed to their relations what had been said. Thenceforth, all grew concerned and became convinced that the King had done wrong by inviting them to stay with them in the forest.

Though reluctant to expulse Timothea, Dalyan had the Queen Dowager brought before him, to demand of her, “Why did you hide thyselves from me? Why did you lie about who you are? Did you not have faith that I might extend simple courtesy to thee, in honour of the great deeds of thy forebear?”

At these words the women grew ashamed, with Timothea replying sorrowfully, “We hoped that ye might never know so that we might for the first time hath some measure of peace. Yet it seems that once more we must be thrust from this place, and punished for the sins’ of others.”

At those words, the Erl-King was filled with shame, and wished to let them stay. Yet for the sake of his people, and the dignity of his crown he could not. He did however make one solemn pledge, “The day shalt come dear lady, when from thy daughter’s line a hero will rise. We will be as a buckler for him, and he as a blade for us, and together we shalt avenge the insults and shame that hast been inflicted upon thee!”

And with those words he tore from his finger a ring crowned with a single ruby, one that had been gifted to him once upon a time by the Dwarves of Mávros-Mountains and gifted it now to the women.

Though it was hardly of any true comfort to them, it happened that just before Timothea departed, she gave the ring to her younger daughter, Euthymia for safe-keeping. This daughter held tight to it, and would never let it go, until the time came when she had mothered her own daughter, Eurydice who was destined to wed the likes of King Acrisius’ father.

*****

“I must find them, lest my father’s death will have been in vain and left unavenged!” Neoptolemus was heard to complain to all who might care to listen when they had first disappeared. Yet now he was pleased, for it was not long before the news of the ladies’ expulsion from the Elf-realm and their arrival in the city of Thíva. At once he set out for the city hopeful to lay claim to the ladies and to slaughter them.

In the time he had spent as King though, he had become a tyrant. One despised by all, who over-taxed his people, was liberal with the wives of others and who abused guest-rights.

It happened though that when he arrived under the pretence of wishing to negotiate peace with the local King, he broke all conventions of diplomacy and good faith. Making for the shrine to Hestia that they had sought refuge within, he had Eurydice seized and slain thereupon the altar as her mother looked on. Then it was the turn of the younger daughter, who for her own part broke free and fled.

Escorted by one of the Papás she was to make her way to one of the newly built shrines of Orcus within the city. It was there that thinking of the curse which her mother had been told of by the Erl-King she threw herself before the statue of the chained-god, and begged for his protection.

Seized by pity despite herself, the goddess Macaria at this time, lifted the veil of the curse if only for a moment, sending forth terrible visions to King Neoptolemus who suddenly fell to the ground, frothing at the mouth and screaming for pity and mercy in the streets before the temple. The people stared and whispered about this, and when the visions had faded Neoptolemus wept for the blood he had spilled, and entering the halls of the temple he threw himself prostrate before the shrine of Orcus.

“O Lady of the Dark Depths, Macaria Ice-Lady of the Scarlet Keep, show me pity! Orcus of the great light hath mercy upon me!” Yet the shrine remained cold and there was no further hint of their pleasure or displeasure.

After this day, Neoptolemus was a changed man. Gone was the tyrant of old, gone was the cruelty he heaped upon his subjects, even as he lived in mortal terror of what was to come. He knew now, he lived under a terrible curse, and feared it. Yet what he feared all the more, was the dark visions not only Macaria had given him, but those it is said Orcus had fed him of what awaited him in the afterlife.

It was also for this reason, the Furies did not visit themselves upon him, or so it is said; because Orcus had extended some measure of protection just as it is said that when the time came, he showed him some measure of pity, in the after-days when he was to rule over Erebus.

At present though, Neoptolemus extended the proper courtesy and dignities of a stately burial to his cousin, her daughter also and leaving the city he did penance upon his return to his kingdom. Bringing with him his other cousin Euthymia who never forgot the sins’ he had committed, and was to fly from his side, to go live out the rest of her days in the country, before she was to fly still further from him, northwards to Mackenya.

It was the hope of Neoptolemus that they might make peace, however years would pass without any hint of this, and in time Ocyale made her way towards his capital stopping only to find her sister, whom she slew along with the woman’s children and husband in a fit of madness.

*****

Ocyale it was who when she had recovered, joined one of the conspiracies against him and made to slip into the royal palace, to kill him, on behalf of those who despised him.

This displeased Ares, who sent many messengers to stop her, but she was beyond reason. Tormented by the Furies, who had haunted her and had cursed her since the death of her father, she had lost what little reason was left in her, or so it has been said.

“Only, the killing of Neoptolemus may grant me peace, yes for it was he who doomed mother, and the rest!” Ocyale was to say to herself, at times when around others.

When Ares learnt of this he became red with hate, and fury and was to vent his fury upon the mortal realm by visiting a great many kingdoms. Many were the wars he ushered forth, and many the cities he levelled when he caused many eruptions amongst the eastern mountains. Grey with soot and blackened lands were the results in the eastern lands across the waves from the lands of Doria, even as the killing fields were filled to overflowing with the deluge of blood.

He had great hopes for Ocyale, yet mad as she was had high hopes she might carry on with the feud against Neoptolemus were to prove vain.

Certainly she slew him and his wife, whilst they dined together in their bath, enjoying a rare moment of peace, with the young man having not foreseen that she might arrive to punish him for his prior misdeeds. It happened though that she slipped away from the palace with the aid of his vizier, who now took the throne after him. This vizier though, was however exposed by the maddened Ocyale, who was commanded to attack the fortress of Macaria as punishment, this she went on to do. But not before the vizier in question before the month was out, was dethroned by the brother of the wife of Neoptelomus. A just man, he was to restore honour, and dignity to the realm and give offerings to Macaria in the hopes to soothe her wrath even as he restored the rule of law to the realm of Mackenya.

A sober man of some intelligence, he restored peace throughout the realm, and made peace with the Erl-King Dalyan, who did him homage. This King was to be known as King Perseus I, and was the namesake of the later hero Perseus. Kind, just and noble he was beloved by his people and was great-grandfather to the later-day hero. Such was his majesty and greatness, neither Zeus nor Macaria sought to make war with him, and when he wed the lady Euthymia, though both knew her identity, neither of them sought to do the couple harm. Zeus was preoccupied elsewhere with another affair, and Macaria considered her vengeance against Neofytus at an end.

*****

It was shortly after Ocyale’s death that the daughter of Ares, Ocmene the Beauteous made her way into the Kingdom, mothered by Ocyale, Ocmene had none of her mother’s warrior-nature. Hated since birth by her mother, she was raised in the utmost secrecy away from all other people, and it was onto her that the curse of the line of Neofytus fell to.

She had none of her mother’s warrior nature and thus preferred the arts of seduction with it being these arts that she practiced to become Queen of Vóreileios the northernmost of the Dorian Kingdoms. Exiled not long after her mother’s death at the hands of Macaria’s servant Vissarion the Centaur who had sought to dissuade her from her attempt to break into the goddess’ fortress, with the young woman having however, given herself completely over to madness. Full of hatred for the goddess, whom she blamed for the death of her father, now that she knew of the curse, and blaming her for the other deaths at the hand of the curse and for her violation, she had charged the gates. Her mighty spear, blessed by Ares however broke shortly after she had slain the first of the guards just behind the gates, and after she had broken her way through.

 Vissarion strove to warn Ocyale to turn back yet she would pay his words no further heed, at which time he reluctantly slew her. Awed by her beauty and full of pity, he slew her if only in defence of himself. Her spear he was later to request of his Queen was to be melted down and a great chain made, which he wore about his neck as he left her service to go rejoin his people.

As to Ocyale’s abandoned daughter, she full of grief and humiliation and forced to dress as a peasant girl was forced to beg for alms, and made to wed if briefly so a young merchant who fell in love at once with her. Snuffing him out in the dead of night with his own pillow, shortly after their arrival within the city of Omphalios, she had then sold off all his wares and belongings that she might buy fine clothing, and jewellery with which she caught the eye of the King of Vóreileios.

A terrible Queen, Ocmene was to prove herself a terror to all who knew her, and it was to be she who helped Theofilos to secure himself against the house of Neofytus. The reason for this was due to the great hatred she housed for the house that had tormented her kinswomen and ancestors so. In this way, the cycle of hatred begun in her great-grandfather’s time continued, as the son of Neoptolemus, Neofilos took now the throne of Minevra.

He was soon beset by war with Vóreileios to his immense horror. Preferring to surrender at once, he was however blinded and taken back to the city of Vóreileia whereupon he died due to complications in the operation to burn out his eyes.

It was after this that Ocmene won for herself a reputation for wickedness, this combined with her keeping of innumerable black cats and pet ravens made her a figure of terror throughout Vóreileios. It is said that she was trained in the blackest of arts by her wicked father Ares, and used her ravens and cats as spies, with which she located enemies to her husband’s reign along with threats to herself.

Long did she reign at her husband’s side, sinking ever further into black-arts and dark secrets that still make this world tremble long after she has vanished from it. Black-hearted, she was to reduce her husband to quivering before her, even as she took on the likes of Apollo as her lover. This was fitting and it was thanks to him she mothered her son, Emilios who was said to be no less brilliant and lovely to look upon than his parents. He was the youngest of her three sons’ and was full of the old bloodlust, of his grandfather.

He was trained just as the elder two were in the old arts, and when he had come of age at her encouragement, he set himself upon his father and brothers, slaying them during a feast. Together he ruled with his mother, it happened though that they were thwarted in their attempts to seize [apollosson]’s eldest brother’s widow that they might wed her to the only surviving son of Ocmene. They were to fail in this, as the maiden had taken refuge within the highest tower of the castle, sealing herself there behind a large slab of a door that no amount of guards could tear open or force entry through. That is to say not for a long time, with the lady to spend a great many hours worrying over what might become of her.

It is said though that the goddess Aphrodite was prayed to and filled with pity, for this poor maiden who knew of no other goddess to pray to. It is said that thinking rapidly, the goddess sent to her three herons that she might kill them, cook them and eat. This she did with the goddess also sending her a gourd filled with milk thanks to these birds so that the young princess gave thanks to her.

After nigh on two years of living life in this manner, Ocmene and her son who had taken to having men chisel through the door began to hew their way into the tower’s most guarded chamber. The princess turned once more to the goddess, who acted swiftly just as the door gave way and the Queen Dowager and her son made their entry with all their guards. The princess was transformed into a dove and flew away from the tower to their bewilderment.

Flying high into the air, she was to make her way whither to distant Lacadaemon whereupon she was transformed once more into a woman. Landing upon the shore she was to be found by the crown prince who fell in love at first sight with her, in large part thanks to Aphrodite. The princess was soon introduced to the King who became charmed by her, and permitted the marriage. A year later she gave birth to the princess Zuthra, who was blessed not only with beauty but had poured over her on her first birthday some of Athene’s perfume (stolen of course by the goddess) that she might carry with her the wisdom of that goddess.

It was hoped that by these means, by Aphrodite that the girl she doted, upon might be endowed with the means to survive the wrath of the ‘Black Queen of Minevra’ as Ocmene had become known as by this time.

It was to be at this time though that the Lady Ocmene discovering that the young girl had lived sought to have her slain, encouraging her son to go to war to reclaim his former good-sister. This he did, and it happened though that not long after he had dethroned his rival that he was to be advised by a disguised Aphrodite to seek to avenge his ancestor.

The goddess did so in a state of utter fury, speaking out in the disguise of a gold-haired and furred Tigrun ere she vanished from sight when he had turned away. Pondering this counsel, it happened that Emilios became convinced of her divinity and the soundness of this notion and of his duty to Neofytus. Eager to prove himself, he was to against the counsel of his mother; he made to call upon all those who lived within his realm only to become incensed at the refusal of the King of Elkereth. Calling his banners he made for the home of the Elves, where he was struck dead by poisoned arrows.

Ocmene seized by grief was to seek to petition for his body, only to be seized by her people who took her north to the mountains where they sacrificed her to the Erde-Wyrm, a sort of wicked, wingless drake that devoured her within a matter of hours.

*****

The old feud at an end, as his line came to an end Neofytus was at last permitted to leave the bowels of Macaria’s fortress. He wandered the land for a time, until at last an old man with a thick white beard, he found his way into the forest of the Erl-King. It was there he was to wail in a fury, “All that I had, all that was left of my kindred was given over to thee, and you cast them out.”

The King no less amazed to see the old man still alive, for he was ancient by the standards of men this they knew all too well. It is said that as he stood before them, his heart burst and he fell to the ground dying.

Each and every one of the courtiers and guards present therewith Dalyan hurried without tarrying to his size, with the Erl-King himself keen to hold him in his arms as he died. It was at this time that the old man pleaded that his body be simply buried on the side of the road. Left there for all eternity, to remind all who passed it by, of the sorrows that befall those who give into the sorrows of turning upon one’s brother.

It was thereupon the side of the road that led into the forest that the Elves did indeed bury him, in the old custom that was favoured at that time. There along the road he lay, with a large tomb-marker that was a large marble slab of stone that had the words carved into it that read:

‘Here lies Neofytus,

The first man to truly defy the goddess,

Mightiest of the men of his line,’