Helen of Sparta

by Amalia Carosella

  Patroclus darted beneath Pirithous’s guard, while the son of Zeus blocked a blow from Ajax, focusing on wounding the giant. It was well timed, and Pirithous had no hope of deflecting the cut, which caught him along the ribs just as he laid open Ajax’s thigh.

  Pirithous laughed and saluted Patroclus, stepping away from Theseus’s back. “Menelaus and Patroclus are yours, my friend. I am cut.”

  Theseus’s sword flashed, and Patroclus leapt back, his arm bloodied.

  “Let that be a lesson to you, Pirithous,” Theseus said through gritted teeth as he circled with Menelaus. I had no doubt that he had meant for it to come to this, the two of them alone on the field. They moved like panthers, with swords flicking in place of tails. “Never trifle with a Myrmidon.”

  Patroclus gave me a wistful look as he left the field, but I did not think he was even old enough to grow a beard. Ajax turned and saluted me, and Pirithous laughed, having returned to my side. He cleaned his sword on the grass, but his gaze did not leave Theseus.

  “Next time perhaps, Ajax,” Pirithous called.

  “Perhaps,” Greater Ajax agreed. “But I will settle for seeing Menelaus soundly thrashed.”

  Pirithous’s eyes narrowed as he watched the two men still on the field, circling, testing, dancing, together. He shook his head just once, keeping his thoughts to himself.

  My lungs burned, and I realized that I held my breath. I forced myself to exhale slowly.

  “Theseus will win, won’t he?”

  Pirithous grunted, and spoke so only I could hear. “He should have won already.”

  “Why hasn’t he?”

  “Can’t you guess?” Pirithous’s expression was grim. “He means to shame him, if it can be done in a fight like this. But it is a dangerous game to play with a man who wants blood.”

  “Menelaus will never forgive it.”

  Pirithous shrugged. “Then they will both bear their grudges, for Theseus will not forgive what Menelaus has done to you, either.”

  “Is that why he fights?”

  Pirithous grinned. “You didn’t really think he’d let Menelaus have the prize, did you?”

  I pressed my lips together.

  Theseus’s sword glinted. He flicked his wrist, the blade finding Menelaus’s throat. A clean red line bloomed against pale flesh. A mortal wound, if it had not been a game. If Theseus had not meant for it to be otherwise.

  Menelaus touched the spot, then stared at the blood on his fingers.

  Theseus tossed his sword to the ground and left the field without a word. Though I watched him until he disappeared inside the palace, he did not even glance at me.

  Pirithous left my side to collect the sword, handling it with a reverence that he reserved for little as far as I had seen. He wiped the blade on the linen of his kilt, careless of the blood, and then wrapped it carefully inside his discarded tunic.

  The other men spoke quietly among themselves, glancing after Theseus and then to me. They paid little attention to Menelaus, though Agamemnon had joined him on the field again. The two brothers glared at the palace, while Clytemnestra spoke loudly of how splendid they had looked.

  “Did I do something to offend him?” I asked Pirithous, unsure if I should be relieved or insulted that Theseus had not claimed his prize. It would have served Menelaus right to stand witness, if he had, but I had no desire to suffer the consequence of his anger, later, either.

  “Not you, no.” His bright eyes traced every part of me so closely, I nearly stepped back. He smiled slowly. “But perhaps you should give his prize to me, all the same.”

  I tried to laugh, but Pirithous stepped forward, looming over me in a way that caused my heart to trip with fear. The sound stuck in my throat, and I swallowed against it.

  “Please,” I said. “Don’t do this.”

  “But it’s for Theseus,” he said, so near that the words tickled my cheek.

  Tears pressed against my eyes, and I shook my head. When I tried to pull away, he drew me back, tight against his body, his bare chest hot beneath my hands. I had forgotten, for a time, that I was too beautiful, and Pirithous was a man like any other. Like Menelaus. I couldn’t breathe through the memory. His rough hands, the violence of his touch . . .

  He bent and kissed me. I beat against his chest for freedom, clawed his skin, but his lips parted mine, his mouth tasting of mint and sweet summer grass as he crushed me to him. Another heartbeat of struggle, while he pillaged my mouth, and I bit him, hard. Pirithous let me go, chuckling low in his throat, and my own fury broke through against the fear, the helplessness I had relived, so briefly.

  I slapped him so hard across the face that his head snapped to the side.

  And then, I turned and ran.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  You should know better than to walk alone,” Pirithous said as I slipped into the corridor after the evening meal. If only the trees on the wall were not just painted, and I could hide among them instead of facing him.

  I neither slowed nor glanced in his direction. “Menelaus is at the banquet. Unless you plan to molest me again, I am safe enough. It is early yet.”

  “Have I angered you?” Laughter rippled beneath his words. “What’s a stolen kiss between friends and allies?”

  I raised my chin and walked on.

  He kept pace with me. “It was for the best, Helen. To misdirect those who might have been watching. After Theseus’s display on the field, something had to be done.”

  “Theseus has not spoken or looked at me all day,” I snapped. “No one will think of him.”

  “You’re a fool if you think Menelaus will forget him. One day of disinterest will undo nothing. Especially after Theseus humiliated him.”

  “And one kiss will do what?”

  “Divert half the guests with gossip, at least, and you cannot tell me you did not enjoy striking me, if nothing else.”

  I shook my head and walked faster, refusing to even consider his words. I could see the curtained partition of the women’s quarters, and could not wait to leave him behind. He stopped at the entrance, and the guard held the curtain back for me.

  “Good evening, King Pirithous. May the gods speed you on your travels tomorrow.”

  His lips twitched with some hidden amusement, and he swept me a bow. “It will be my greatest sadness to leave you.”

  I ducked into the corridor, and the guard let the curtain fall, blocking him from my sight. Pirithous chuckled quietly as he walked away, and the sound made me grimace.

  I went to my room and collected the bundle I had made earlier. It included a change of clothes, borrowed from Clymene, so that I might pass for a slave rather than a princess, and some of the finer jewels Theseus had given me. No one would notice their absence, they were so new. I wore the diamond at my throat already, but I did not dare to take too many of my things. If I had been abducted, I would not have had time or the inclination to pack, and I did not know how Theseus intended for me to travel.

  I changed out of my linen gown, the fabric so thin it would do nothing to keep me warm, and mussed the blankets in the bed to make it look as though I had slept. For the journey, I dressed in the rough-spun and undyed wool of the slaves. By the time Clymene came to the room, I would already be long gone. Menelaus had seen to that, sending her away again in hope that he might find a way into my room, but I could hear Theseus’s men outside.

  The corridors were empty, all the servants gone to help with the banquet, and I had no trouble making my way to the bathing room without being seen. I leaned out the window, searching the shadows.

  A man stepped out of the darkness beneath me, and I breathed more easily.

  “Theseus.”

  “We must move quickly,” he said, his voice low.

  I dropped my bundle to the ground and climbed over the sill, feeling for the ledge with my toes.
Theseus caught me by the waist halfway down the wall and set me to my feet. I turned in his arms to face him, and he stroked my cheek. Even in the moonlight, I saw the warmth in his eyes that I had missed in his manner all day.

  He smiled, his fingertip tracing the shape of my lips. My heart raced, and my face flushed with heat. “If you only knew how much it pained me to turn from you, even for a day.”

  “You should not be here. You must be seen in the megaron.”

  “Pirithous told me you worried, and I did not want you to leave thinking I was angry.” His hand fell away from my face. “Once you are out of the city, Ariston will take you to the shore where my ship waits at Gytheio. Do as Pirithous asks until you are outside the city wall and you will be safe.”

  I hid my face against his chest to keep myself from speaking out of turn. If Theseus did not know what Pirithous had done, I would not give him reason to worry. Theseus trusted him. I had little choice but to do the same.

  He kissed my hair. “I hope to join you three days from now, but I fear you will not be comfortable while you wait. Ariston will do what he can to help, but you must remain hidden.”

  “Of course.” I pulled away, bending to collect my things. “I will do whatever is required to protect your people from reprisal.”

  “Theseus,” Pirithous hissed from the shadows, and I wondered how long he had been there. “You must get back before you’re missed, or all of this will be for nothing.”

  Theseus tipped my face up to his and held my gaze. “You have my love, Helen. No matter what comes, know that.”

  Then he released me, and Pirithous stepped forward as Theseus melted back into the night. My heart ached to see him go.

  Pirithous took in my appearance and grunted. “Have you a shawl to cover your head?”

  I dug through my small bundle and pulled one out. It was rough-spun wool to match my shift. He nodded when I wrapped it over my hair.

  “That will do.” He held out his hand to me. “The sooner you leave the city and get to Ariston, the better for your comfort. You do not want to have to travel hidden inside a basket for too long.”

  I hesitated, my hand balling into a fist at the thought of touching him.

  “Come, Helen. We have not the time for this. You must trust me.”

  “Can I?”

  He grabbed my hand and hauled me after him. “If you couldn’t, you would not have to wonder.”

  I did not know by what trick Pirithous got us beyond the walls unseen by any of my father’s guards, but not one of the men stood at his post while we slipped among the shadows, though I knew them all to be reliable. We did not walk very far beyond the sight of the city gate before Pirithous stopped me. He whistled a phrase from a hymn I recognized as Athenian, and Ariston rose out of the dark, leading a mule with a small cart.

  Ariston bowed. “My lady, we have a long journey ahead of us.”

  “A good day’s walk, yes.” I smiled at him. “I thank you for your help in this, Ariston.”

  Pirithous stroked the mule’s nose and checked his feet while we spoke. “If you pass anyone on the road—”

  “Yes, my lord,” Ariston said. “The princess must be hidden in the basket. My king has made it clear to me she must not be seen.”

  “Good man, Ariston.” Pirithous clapped him on the shoulder and glanced at me. “Do not let her argue. And be sure she is not seen on the ship, either. We cannot afford for loose lips to carry word of a woman smuggled away by Theseus.”

  “How can you hide a woman on a ship?” I asked.

  Pirithous met my eyes. “Uncomfortably. Until Theseus arrives, you’ll be in the hold inside that basket.” He nodded toward the basket sitting in the cart.

  “Theseus lined it with cloth, my lady, and straw beneath to cushion you. And I will bring you food and drink,” Ariston said.

  I pressed my lips together. The basket would grant me little freedom of movement. If I was on my knees, my head would clear the top.

  “I’m sorry, Helen,” Pirithous said. “There is no better way.”

  “If it will get me safely from Sparta, that is all that matters,” I said.

  “We must go, my lord, if we wish to travel by dark,” Ariston reminded him, before I could ask anything further.

  “Yes, of course.” Pirithous caught my hand, kissing it. “Good luck, fair Helen. And a safe journey.”

  Ariston urged the mule from the copse, and I followed.

  When I glanced back again for one last glimpse of my home, Pirithous had vanished and so had Sparta’s walls.

  Ariston helped me into the basket before dawn, and I sat with my knees drawn to my chest. He gave me bread and cheese and grapes, but I had no appetite. I leaned against the inside of the basket and closed my eyes, letting the cadence of the mule’s hooves on the dirt road lull me to sleep.

  Orange light spilled through the weave when the cart finally stopped. My bones ached with the constant jarring of pebbles beneath the wheels.

  “My lady?” Ariston spoke in an undertone. “We’re coming to Gytheio now.”

  My stomach still roiled from the stress of the night, and I picked at the bread, hoping food would help settle it. If nothing else, eating would keep me awake, and I did not dare doze now that we neared the port in case I made some noise in my sleep.

  I heard a shout, and Ariston answered; then I heard a bustle with the jingle of metal clasps and the thump of leather that only came with soldiers. Their accents were Attican, and Ariston spoke to them in friendship. Theseus’s men.

  “When do we sail?” one asked.

  “King Theseus intends to join us by nightfall, unless there is some delay. He bids us to make ready to sail the moment he arrives.”

  “Is the princess as beautiful as they say?” a different voice asked, muffled by the basket.

  Ariston strangled a laugh. “Even more so.”

  “What does the king say?”

  “Our king made an offer for her hand, but King Tyndareus refuses to accept any until the appointed time, a year hence.” Ariston sounded convincing for a man with said princess hidden in a cart behind him.

  “A new queen for Athens!”

  “Surely King Theseus will win her.”

  “Nothing is certain, my friend,” Ariston said, quieting the others. “Mycenae wants her, too, along with half the other men in Achaea. Better for Theseus to find a woman elsewhere, who is not so coveted. Help me unload the cart, and I’ll tell you all the news from Sparta.”

  Two of the men hefted the basket, grunting at the weight. I stayed as still as possible and held my breath while they carried me. The crunch of dirt and pebbles under sandals was replaced by the sound of the wood deck of the ship and the stale scent of salt. Ariston warned them not to toss the basket below, making some excuse of trade goods, but they still thumped it hard against the ladder rails. I bit my tongue on a curse.

  Finally, they set me down on a solid surface, tilted though it was, and I heard them clamber back up the ladder. The sunlight that had filtered through disappeared with a heavy thud of wood against wood, leaving me in darkness.

  In the hold, I could hear nothing but the sound of my own heartbeat and the quiet wash of water against the very edge of the hull. The straw poked up from beneath the blanket, scratching at my legs and back. I wrapped my arms around my legs and counted my heartbeats to try to take my mind from the discomfort. The distraction helped, but it did not stop my eyes from straining to see into the blackness that engulfed me. I was afraid to sleep, afraid that the nightmares would come, and the men would hear me weeping or crying out. But even a daughter of Zeus could not keep awake for the three days I would be trapped in the belly of the ship.

  Three days. I took a steadying breath, struggling against the panic that threatened to explode from my chest. Three days in this darkness, in this silence so heavy, so eno
rmous, I could barely stand the sound of my own breathing. I pressed my forehead to my knees and told myself it did not matter. I was safe here, and soon, Theseus would join me. We would sail for Athens, and I would be his queen. The stranger would come to Sparta and find another woman at the king’s side, one not so beautiful as to be worth stealing. He would leave again, empty-handed, and there would be no cause for war. The walled city of my dreams would never burn, standing gilt and shining for generations to come, and Theseus and I would laugh at our escape. We would tell the story of my abduction to our children, and one day, when it all lay behind us, perhaps we might return. Pollux would forgive me, and Castor, too. Pollux had always forgiven me, no matter what I had done.

  But I had never left him before. Never abandoned him altogether. We had been a pair, he and I, grown so close these last two years, since before Tyndareus went to war, taking Menelaus with him. Menelaus—Menelaus would never forgive this.

  I shivered. In the darkness, I could almost hear the panting of his breath, feel the weight of him crushing me, smothering me, his fingers wrapping around my throat. The creak of the ropes beneath the bedding. No. Not creaking. Scrabbling. Squeaking.

  Rats.

  I was trapped in a hold, in a woven basket, with rats. And they were drawing closer, by the sounds. Something even brushed against the outside of the basket. Nibbled against it. I kicked at the sound, shook the basket as much as I dared to startle them away.

  The food. The bread and cheese and water that Ariston had left me. They could smell it, I was certain. They could smell it, and how long would they be stopped by the small noises and movements I could make?

  My legs cramped and my whole body ached, but at least the rats kept me awake. I had tested the lid of the basket, hoping I might throw the cheese, at least, from it, and distract them, but it had been tied securely shut on three sides. Knowing I was trapped so completely only amplified my discomfort, and my legs screamed for the chance to move, to stretch out long and straight. Worse, I had nothing in which to relieve myself, and from the pressure building in my belly, I could not last much longer.