Helen of Sparta

by Amalia Carosella

  “I won’t hurt you,” he murmured, and then he kissed me, his lips parting mine as his body filled me with its hardness until I moaned with new pleasure.

  My nails scraped his back for purchase, my legs spreading wider to let him in. His forehead falling to mine, he held still as stone above me for a long moment, his breath coming hard. I wrapped my legs around his waist, drawing him closer, and he groaned my name.

  When he began to move at last, I thought I would never need to breathe again, that just this moment, and his body inside mine, would sustain me for the rest of my life. I raised my hips to meet his, finding his rhythm and echoing it with my own.

  He swore something I didn’t hear, for the ocean roared in my ears again. My heart beat so hard, my whole body throbbed, and his pace increased. Faster, and the wave built inside me again, slow and steady with his strokes. I wove my fingers into his hair, and let him carry me, let him fill me, let him hold me afloat, until I shuddered. My whole body shook from the inside out, and I lost myself in the ocean as it crashed over me again.

  Theseus groaned, one of his hands lifting my hips. Holding me tightly joined against his body, he shivered and stiffened with his own release, his seed spilling inside me. He collapsed against me on the bed, his weight somehow not crushing me against the cushioning, his breathing as ragged as mine.

  With what seemed a great effort, he lifted himself up and rolled to his side. I sighed at the loss of his body in mine, feeling the absence like an ache. He smiled at me, stroking my cheek, his thumb tracing my bottom lip.

  “Did I please you?” he asked.

  I blushed, though my face must have already been flushed from our joining.

  “Very much,” I whispered.

  His fingers moved to the circlet still on my brow, and I thought he traced the lines of the braided gold. He kissed my forehead, and though it was a gesture he had made a thousand times before, so soon after his lovemaking it made me shiver.

  “You are everything I dreamed of,” he said. “Everything I could have ever hoped for, in a woman, in a wife, in a queen.”

  I laughed and closed my eyes. “You are blinded by love.”

  “I was blinded before now.” He brushed the hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. “But you taught me to see.”

  I shook my head, not knowing what to say to such praise, and his every touch scattered my thoughts. He kissed my temple, then the pulse at my neck, his fingers trailing over my rib cage and making my body burn again.

  But my stomach begged me for food, now that my anxiety had fled.

  “Theseus.”

  “Hmm?”

  His hand had reached my breasts, and I ached for his lips to follow. Another moment and I would no longer be able to think for the distraction he would give me.

  “I’m starving.”

  He stopped, and in the silence I opened my eyes to look at him. He searched my face for a long moment, his forehead furrowed. And then he laughed. It was not the chuckle of our lovemaking or his self-satisfaction, but a full-throated roar that came deep from his belly, making him fall backward on the bed.

  “Shh!” I said, feeling the blood rise in my cheeks again. “They’ll hear you in the corridor!”

  He did not quiet, but gathered himself enough to sit up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The laugh settled into a softer chuckle when he stood up and, naked as a god, he crossed the room and threw open the door.

  “Food and wine!” he called, and by the sound of it, he had startled several loiterers with his sudden appearance. “And bring some of the oranges from Pirithous for my bride!”

  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 into 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 your eyes.”

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

  “And all this time I thought you were a modest 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 uncomfortable.”

  “I’m not uncomfortable now,” I assured him, pushing the blanket back and stretching in the sunlight that poured through the open 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 hips. “Hmm?”

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

  Then he kissed me, and we said very little else.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Aethra brought them a meal at midday, and Theseus left Helen asleep in the bed to open the door at his mother’s distinctive 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 her 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 desires 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,” Aethra replied.

  “And your opinion?” Theseus 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 these 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 our heads.”

  “Menestheus does not think it would be such a bad thing to give the young men 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 not 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, let 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 can 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 like 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 small 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 sacrifices.”

  “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 smallest 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 she 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 done 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 continue 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 change 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 what 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 to 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 of her own.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  For 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 of 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 anyone 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 Menestheus.

  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 b
e 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 Aphrodite.”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Theseus sit back, the tension in his body disappearing as his cousin backed 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 his 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 forgive 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 spin 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 longer feared.

  I was glad of it. For him, for me, and for the baby that grew in 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 burning 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.