End Chapter 1

 

     Ambassador Veritan waited to speak as he could clearly recognize the king's thoughts were lost back in time, to the days of Thera and the breeding campaigns of Themiscyra and the untimely death of his beloved nephew. War was almost reached between the two great  nations over the matter, however, King Sunder's  greed for payment in gold superseded his need for revenge over his love and loss of that fine young General, dead by the hands of Commander Thera sole heir to the Royal House of Themiscyra. "Alas..," the great king wept "the time has come..," he bowed his head in silence.
     "We await your command my King!"  came the cries of his frantic learned council.
     "Ambassador Veritan," the king said in a soft low voice barely audible. "Ride out at once for Sparta plead our case to the newly crowned young King and Queen.., the children of Thera." he cleared his throat having trouble speaking the Dead Queen's name. Then he raised his head stating calmly "Gentlemen.., send your prayers to the god's that those two will have the honor and wisdom to entreat our sacred cause in the defence of our ancient homeland." here a furious look of anger came over his face as he reminded them all "For if all Thrace falls into the hands of that butcher king., then what army can stop him from taking the Peloponnese and ruling the world as we know it?"
     So it came to pass King Sunder ordered the shield of Thrax removed from the palace and taken to a safe place of hiding. Thereby placing a great strain upon the king's soul as the shield had been mounted there in its place of honor for decades upon decades as far back as anyone could remember. To see it hauled away in the dark of night was like a dagger to his heart. The bronze shield was not just an ancient relic of their glorious hero founder Thrax son of Ares but was also a talisman of security and protection. All the people grew sore afraid that all the charm and luck of the fates and furies had just been carted off and stored along with the sacred shield as it was taken from the palace.
      "Veritan." the king beckoned him closer a panic rising in his voice "Take your scribe.., your notari., go at once! Sign any treat as my proxy, any treaty of alliance they so prescribe. Any cost! There is no price I will not pay to SAVE THIS NATION!" here he reached out squeezing tightly the wise ambassadors hands as he spoke. "Sway the young hearts and minds of the Spartans , use your golden tongue and silver threads of speech , weave for us a cloak of salvation with your words and pearls of wisdom."
     Noting the desperation in the beleaguered monarch Veritan said in a firm loud voice as clear as crystal. "I pledge my allegiance and honor to you and this great nation I will do everything within my power of persuasion to bring the Greeks to our defense. Pray now it is not too late."
     With his heart aching and his pulse racing King Sunder collapsed back upon his throne staring up and back at the empty, waste of space, where the shield of Thrax once hung, the king felt a sharp pain in his side and his head pounded the veins swelling throbbing with blood. Yet, although he was gathered together with a crowded roomful of of his nervous anxious countrymen, he felt utterly and completely all alone. The vast mountains of gold and silver amassed at the treasuries of the temples; which decades of his reign had brought forth home to Thrace, would now prove of little comfort for him. For soon it all would be carted off to Sparta, or barring their help, all would be forfeited over to Phillip to pay for a king's ransom to buy HIS OWN safety and freedom.., if only Phillip would listen to reason.., if not he feared he too might perchance meet the fate of his kinsmen, with his skin flayed from his body.., perhaps Philip will turn me into a saddle like he has been rumored to have done to the brave General Laterras of Illyria. Many thoughts raced through his mind, such as this, as he sat there in shell shocked silence, the once warm and bright great hall of his throne room now felt as cold and desolate as a tomb.
     So out of his aged palace he crept to the ancient temple of Ares to pray before the altar upon his knees prostrating himself before the god of all his hopes and beliefs. The noble king lighting his candles, burning the strong sickly- sweet incense, preparing his offerings of sacrifice. Praying for the fate of his beloved kingdom by the Black Sea; which now lay in the hands and at the feet of two, 24 year old, neophyte regents of the Laconian Throne, King Therakles and Queen Sparta. "Oh Ares take pity upon me!"