Helen of Sparta (28 page)

We made love again after he had fed me, then fell into sleep, our bodies still twined together. I woke covered with a light blanket, cupped in the curl of Theseus’s body, my back against his chest. The golden circlet lay on the bed beside me, its emerald reflecting sunlight and green fire int
o my eyes.

I had only to extend my arm to touch it, my fingers caressing the jewel and tracing the intricate lines of the braiding. It was a far cry from Theseus’s own crown, and I could not help but wonder where this one had come from. The stone reminded me of something, though I could not quite remember where I had seen one like
it before.

“I had it made for you,” he said, startling me with his voice. I had thought he still slept. “The emerald reminded me of y
our eyes.”

“It’s beautiful.” I rolled over to look at him, fighting a grimace at the stiffness of my body from the nig
ht before.

He kissed my forehead where the emerald would have sat and tucked the blanket up over my shoulder. “How are you
feeling?”

“As well as I might expect to feel, I think.” I smiled. “Thirsty, for the most part.” Theseus shifted as though to rise, but I pressed him back before he could. “You’re not going to throw open the door and start shouting again,
are you?”

He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. I had never seen him so pleased with himself. “If they’re going to loiter in the hall outside my rooms, they can at least make themselves useful to th
eir king.”

“And all this time I thought you were a mo
dest man.”

“I believe I was more concerned with your modesty than mine.” He stroked my hair from my face. “I never wanted you to be uncom
fortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable now,” I assured him, pushing the blanket back and stretching in the sunlight that poured through the ope
n balcony.

“Mmm.” His gaze swept over my body, his palm following down my chest, over my stomach, pausing at my navel. “Pirithous was right,
you know.”

I covered his hand with mine, guiding it lower, across my hi
ps. “Hmm?”

“He’ll be gone long before I can bring myself to l
eave you.”

Then he kissed me, and we said very li
ttle else.

C
HAPTER TWENTY-SIX

A
ethra brought them a meal at midday, and Theseus left Helen asleep in the bed to open the door at his mother’s distinct
ive knock.

“Ariston sent a potion, if she needs it.” Aethra set the tray down on the table by the hearth, glancing at the bed. Helen hadn’t so much as stirred. “I trust you took care to treat he
r kindly.”

“I’m not a brute, Mother, and if I were, I’d hardly have waited this long to
maul her.”

Aethra sniffed, her gaze raking over him. “Perhaps you aren’t a brute, but there’s certainly a lot of you for that poor girl to take on, even if she wasn’t
a maiden.”

“After everything I’ve done to protect her, do you really think I’d let her suffer at my own hands?” Theseus kept his voice low in spite of his irritation. “She’s well loved, and I mean to keep her so for as long as she de
sires it.”

“Your son is anxious to prove himself ever more competent now that he’s returned, and he’ll feel cheated if you do not allow him at least a sevenday to manage on his own,” Aethr
a replied.

“And your opinion?” Thes
eus asked.

Aethra shrugged. “Give Demophon a month if you wish it. It isn’t as if the nobles haven’t lived without your constant presence in the past, and it’s been a decade at least since you’ve run off on your own business. Some time away is long overdue, for you and your bride. Take Helen to see her new country if you think it can be risked. She needs fresh air and sunlight and a chance to stretch her legs after so many months cooped up in the
se rooms.”

He shook his head. “All it would take is one man who had been in Sparta to notice her, and we would have Mycenae raining arrows down on o
ur heads.”

“Menestheus does not think it would be such a bad thing to give the young m
en a war.”

“Menestheus does not know what I know, nor does he recognize the threat Helen’s future brings if she is not kept tucked out of sight. One of many reasons the man is no
t a king.”

Aethra studied him, her lips pursed. “I don’t suppose you wish to share this knowledge
with me.”

He looked at Helen, still unstirring. She had not even whimpered in her sleep for months, not since he had taken her from Sparta and kept her in his bed.
Please, Father, Zeus, Athena, le
t it last.

“Until and unless her dreams begin again, we are safe.” Theseus picked a grape from the bowl and rolled it between his fingers. “But Pirithous brought word from the pharaoh, and even Egypt’s gods fear what might come. I won’t have the sons of Athens wasted when we may need every sword arm we c
an spare.”

“Athena will protect Athens.” Aethra poured a cup of wine and set a vial beside it. “Even if Aphrodite is against us. And do not think I have not seen those omens, Theseus. The goddess is not pleased with Helen, though I think it would have been so no matter whom she
married.”

He sighed, thinking of the oarsmen. War he could defend against, but men mistaking her for a goddess—he could not control that. The gods took offense where they willed. “If Athena is to be believed, Zeus may yet claim a price for Helen’s
freedom.”

His mother looked up, her sharp eyes narrowed. “The goddess herself
said so?”

“In Sparta, when she promised me
her aid.”

“Have you any idea what he asks for in
exchange?”

Theseus shook his head. “Athena could not say, but I spilled wine on the altar, and it coated my hands li
ke blood.”

“And what did Helen say when you told her?” From the tone of her voice, Theseus felt she would thrash him if he had not shared the goddess’s words with
his wife.

He poured himself a cup of wine. “She believes Zeus means only to deceive us. She says he has never bothered with her before, and sees no reason why he should now. And perhaps I wish to believe it, too. Is it so wrong that we should keep that one sm
all hope?”

“If she were anyone else, Theseus, and if any other god but Zeus were set against you, I would believe it possible. But I’m afraid hope will only bring you heartbreak, now. Better to prepare for the worst in this matter, and to prepare Helen for
the same.”

“There is no way to appease
the gods?”

“We can make an appeal to Hera, but if it is Zeus’s will, she must obey him just as we do. It does not help if Aphrodite whispers encouragements in his ear, either, but I do not think there is anything that can be done in that regard. You already shower the gods with sa
crifices.”

“How can I do otherwise?” Theseus picked an orange from the bowl on Aethra’s tray. Helen’s favorite, but for the wild strawberries. He had men searching every hillside, every valley, and every shaded spot in Attica for the plants, but they were impossible to find. “I have never loved anyone as much as I do Helen. And the love she has given me burns so brightly, it makes everything else pale. The heat of a bonfire against the smalles
t candle.”

“Be with your bride, then. Enjoy this time for as long as it lasts. Demophon will see to the affairs of Athens for now.” Aethra smiled and kissed his cheek. “Give Helen my love when s
he wakes.”

He nodded and latched the door behind her to keep the servants from inviting themselves in on specious errands. No doubt Helen would be happy for the food and drink, but he hoped he had been gentle enough that she did not need the potion. Certainly he had not left any marks on her skin, which was more than could be said for
Menelaus.

Theseus ground his teeth at the memory. Even with Helen safe in his bed, he still wanted to wrap his hands around the man’s throat for what he’d do
ne to her.

She had put on a brave face, but Theseus had not slept by her side for half a year without knowing something of her thoughts. His determination to give her an experience of joy and love and pleasure, already well formed, had grown even stronger after he had seen the look on her face at the touch of his hand on her shoulder. Her first time should have been a gift, and he had done everything in his power to make up for the loss of it, as he would conti
nue to do.

He rubbed his forehead, trying to force the thoughts from his mind, and went back to the bed. Helen slept in the sun, her fair skin washed in gold. She had curled into a ball, her newly darkened hair even more startling against the canvas of her nakedness. Without the kohl around her eyes and her skin powdered to copper, no one would mistake her for an Egyptian, though umber still smudged her arms and
shoulders.

More than anything, he wanted her to feel comfortable, safe, secure. More than anything, he wanted to reassure her that no matter what came, he would protect her and love her. No demand of Zeus would ever ch
ange that.

He
loved her.

He stroked Helen’s hair, fingering the soft strands, warmed from the sun. He didn’t know how Aethra had managed to turn it raven black, but it shone brilliant and smooth in the light. Beautiful, no matter w
hat color.

Helen’s eyelids fluttered open, a lazy smile spreading across her face as their eyes met. She stretched her arms over her head, her back arching, and desire stabbed through him, though he would not allow himself t
o respond.

By the gods, he wanted her, and the feeling had not diminished with their coupling. Having her so near, being inside her and making her moan with pleasure, her nails digging into his back, had overwhelmed his self-control, and what he meant to make last had gone very quickly that first time. He had still struggled with his discipline after they had eaten, and only this morning had he managed to find his restraint. He had no intention of losing
it again.

Helen caught his hand, bringing it to her face and kissing his palm. Then she pulled him down, and Theseus realized, when her mouth found his, that his wife had other plans o
f her own.

CH
APTER TWENTY-SEVEN

F
or a full month, Theseus and I did nothing but celebrate our marriage. The sun would rise, washing us in gold, and we would turn to each other, unable to keep our smiles hidden for more than a moment. In the morning, he would reach for me, and I would answer, and we would spend our days in the happy glow of lovers. And in the evening, I would reach for him, and we would fall asleep after, our bodies still locked
together.

He took me to the harbor at Piraeus by chariot, retracing in sunlight the road that had brought me to Athens. He showed me the woods where he had hunted as a youth before he went to Crete, and his favorite hilltop to climb after he came home, where he had gone to grieve for his father’s loss and forget that he was king. And other days, we simply let the horses run, no destination in mind, for the feel of the wind against our faces, tugging at our clothes, and the joy o
f freedom.

I had never laughed so much in my whole life as I did then, clinging to the rail as he urged the horses to greater speed and the chariot jolted and bounced. I stood within the circle of his arms as he drove, his body braced behind me, warm and strong, and when we stopped at last, tumbling out into the grass, we made love in the open beneath the cypress trees, so absorbed in each other, it did not matter if a
nyone saw.

The month passed and half of another, before he took up his duties as king again. But this time, when he went to the megaron to hear petitions and complaints, I sat with him. For once my beauty served a purpose, for the men who came before the king without real reason flushed red, bowing and murmuring apologies instead. Full days became half days, then mornings, and the petitioners began bringing gifts instead of problems. The first came from M
enestheus.

I stared at the basket of figs and nuts, unsure of what to do. Theseus relied on Menestheus, believed in his loyalty. I did not know what he meant by offering me such a gift, if he only wished for my favor as the wife of his cousin, or something more. But the look in his eyes reminded me of Pirithous just before he stole his kiss, and I knew that Theseus saw it, too. He stiffened on his throne, and I laid my hand on his knee to
calm him.

“If you wish to honor me,” I said, having been queen long enough for Meryet of Egypt to learn some Achaean, “make these offerings to the gods. Not for me, but for the peace and prosperity of Athens, and blessings upon
its king.”

“It will be done, my queen.” Menestheus swept a bow as deep as a
henu
, but his eyes flashed and a chill went down my spine. “I will make it a gift to A
phrodite.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Theseus sit back, the tension in his body disappearing as his cousin ba
cked away.

“Do any others wish to be heard?”
he asked.

When no one else came forth, he rose, extending his hand to me. He smiled his approval, and I closed my fingers around his, feeling the warmth of his palm spread up my arm and down into
my middle.

We left the megaron, and the moment the great doors shut behind us, Theseus caught me by the waist, lifting me up off my toes in hi
s elation.

I clutched his shoulders, laughing. “What
on earth?”

“You are the wisest queen Athens has ever known,” he said, setting me back on my feet only to kiss me. “Did you realize what it would mean to them? To know you honor our gods over the Egyptians’? They will sing your praises from the walls! And the gods themselves cannot be displeased, as long as your admirers offer them gifts upon gifts. Aphrodite may forgiv
e us yet!”

“What has Aphrodite to do with
anything?”

“Nothing more, I hope, with so many men sure to bring her offerings now, out of love for you.” He lifted me by the waist again to spi
n us both.

I laughed from the sheer joy of seeing him this way. It was as if all the weight of his years had been lifted and left him a youth again, because of his pride in me and the future he saw for us. A future he no long
er feared.

I was glad of it. For him, for me, and for the baby that grew i
n my womb.

The second month after I had stopped bleeding, I woke in a cold sweat, my heart racing and my stomach cramped. Theseus still slept, though the first tendrils of sunlight slipped over the balcony and through the open doors. A nightmare, and it had come with the same weight as the dreams of the bur
ning city.

In it, I stood between Theseus and our child, lying sleeping in its crib. His face was ashen with grief as he spoke, but the words made no sense to me. I held tight to the wood, refusing to let him near. When he stepped forward, I lashed out, slapping him across
the face.

His grief turned to sorrow, but he did not stop. Though I screamed and clawed and beat against him, he did not flinch. He caught my arms, then held both my hands in one of his, his strength so great I could only fall to my knees before him. He tried to speak again, but I could not hear over the roar of blood and despair in my ears. Aethra came in behind him at his shout, and though my throat was hoarse from screaming, I cried out again, begging. She was dressed in the robes of a priestess, her face painted white with red sunbursts on her cheeks and forehead. She took the baby, and though I threw myself after her, Theseus hel
d me back.

“It is the only way, Helen,” Theseus said, his voice hoarse but loud enough to pierce through my sobs. “Zeus’s price must be paid, or the war will come. Athens will perish, and countless will die. If we disobey him now, it will be even worse than the nightmare you feared. How many would you see killed for standing in the way of you
r father?”

I did not need the priests to tell me what this dream meant. But it was early yet. I had time to act, time to stop it from coming. I pressed my hands against my stomach, imagining the li
fe inside.

Theseus stirred, the sunlight having reached the bed. His hand covered mine, but I could not bring myself to face him. If he met my eyes, he would see my grief, and I would have to tell him of the dream and the baby he did not yet realize we had made together. To him, now, it would be nothing to give up if the gods demanded the sacrifice. But if I waited, perhaps he would come to love it enough
to refuse.

And in the meantime, I would settle my own debt to the gods, without the blood of our child i
n payment.

Aethra helped me dress in the mornings, and she watched me with narrowed eyes as I tied the tasseled rope to cinch the cloth of my gown at the waist. I flushed under her scrutiny, knowing wha
t she saw.

“It’s been three months since your last blood,” she said to me at last. “One we might discredit from excitement or distress, but three is a child, and you will not be able to keep it secret for muc
h longer.”

I sighed, pressing my hands to my stomach, still flat but thickening now. I had felt Theseus’s hands pause there when he loved me, but I could not bring myself to speak of it. So often a child might be lost in the first months, before it had even formed, and with the threat of the gods hanging over us, I feared it even more. Theseus already had two sons. What if he did not want this child? What if he did not care if Zeus took it, or asked me to give it up even before its birth? I could not stan
d to know.

“It’s so soon,” I said. “Ear
ly still.”

“If I have noticed, Theseus must have. He is no fool not to realize what three months of lovemaking might mean,
besides.”

I smoothed the material of my gown—linen today, dyed pale blue, but finely woven and embroidered with acorns at the edges. “Do you think he will be
pleased?”

Aethra smiled, taking my face in her hands. “The only thing that pleases Theseus more than his children is you, Helen. He only waits for you to tell him he has not misread the signs, and you will see for yourself how he
rejoices.”

We drove to Piraeus that day, for Theseus had promised to take me to the sandy shore. While I had played in Sparta’s river as a girl with my brothers and sister, it was not the same as the sea. I still had not had my fill of looking at it, as long as I had land beneat
h my feet.

He knew a secluded place where the horses might find grass to graze, and we would be undisturbed by ships and oarsmen. We left our clothes in the chariot and bathed in the salt water, exulting in the warmth of the sun and the waves until dolphins joined us in the cove. I had never seen them so close, and Theseus called th
em nearer.

They were immense, longer than Theseus was tall, their thick tails beating the water and propelling them forward with such speed, I thought they might knock us over when
they came.

“It is a sign from my father,” Theseus said when they swam in circles around us, nudging us with their smooth noses and clicking greetings I did not understand. “That he blesses our
marriage.”

A smaller calf had come to me, rolling on its side and staring with an eye above the water before diving beneath the surface again. Its body brushed against mine, its skin the texture of smoothed cork. Another of the creatures bumped my stomach, and I stroked its side, hope flaring bright and hot in my heart. Poseidon’s blessing. Surely he would not give us such a sign if he did not mean to protect us. Zeus was king, but perhaps Poseidon, his brother, could intervene where the other gods would not. With a flick of their tails and splashing leaps into the air, they all swam off as suddenly as they
had come.

Theseus smiled at me, catching my hand and pulling us toward the beach with easy strokes. I had never seen anyone so at home in the water. Even beside the dolphins, he was still graceful. We lurched from the sea, thick and heavy on dry land, and Theseus laid out a blanket beneath the shade of a stray oak. We had a lunch of figs, cheese, and bread, with a skin of wine that was mos
tly water.

After, I dozed, my head pillowed on Theseus’s arm, and I felt his hand spread over my stomach, the touch almost reverent. I covered it with mine and pressed his palm to the place abov
e my womb.

“Perhaps it will be a girl,” I said, emboldened by Aethra’s words, and Poseidon’s sign. “A princess of Athens an
d Sparta.”

Then he was kissing me, and I did not have the breath to say anyt
hing else.

Theseus frequented the temples, leaving me almost daily in the afternoons. I knew that he consulted Aethra often, for as high priestess, she knew much of what would please the goddesses, and Theseus was determined to slig
ht no one.

For the most part, during those times, I kept to our rooms. I had given up painting my face as an Egyptian, though my skin had browned nicely even without the help of umber. But the night before, I had dreamed again, and when Theseus had gone to make his offering, I had gone to the megaron to make one
of my own.