by Amanda Elyot
EPILOGOS
Men know so little about the world they live in, and about themselves as well. Most of them do not love wisdom and have little desire to know about their own ignorance. I believe that’s why they suffer as they do, and then blame the gods that they have themselves created in their own mortal image. We look to the heavens for answers and for harmony, forgetting that those same gods we have invented spar and spat and behave with dazzling inconsistency like human beings, just the way we made them.
Another thing I have come to understand is that history is a like an undulating crenellation in the Troyan ramparts, rising and falling and repeating itself until something forces it to change. The same is true of families. The House of Atreus—my husband’s—is doomed to enact the same tragedy in every generation until someone breaks the curse by choosing to act differently, by selecting life in preference to death.
I have discovered, too, that almost any reconciliation is possible in this world.
A few days ago, while I was at my loom, Menelaus asked if he might briefly interrupt. Naturally, I acquiesced and bade him sit beside me.
“I never shared this with you until now, my love,” he began, and reminded me of the dream he’d had during our final days in Egypt in which the sea nymph Eidothea had disclosed what he must do to sail for home and how to capture Proteus. “Proteus, the Ancient of the Sea, had words for me as well. ‘You shall not die in the bluegrass land of Argos,’ he said, speaking of Mycenae. ‘At your world’s end you will be met by golden Rhadamanthys, judge of the underworld, whose word shall be inviolate and final. Your shade will not be consigned to dwell in Hades or in darkest Tartarus. The gods intend you for Elysium, Menelaus. It never snows there; there are no frosts, nor are there torrential rains; but the climate is forever temperate. Gentle breezes waft lulling airs from off the ocean, and it is only the mild west wind that blows. For as Helen’s lord, the gods hold you a son of Zeus.’ ”
My husband’s eyes were moist. And I decided in that moment how to end my story.
When Atropos eventually sees fit to cut the thread of Menelaus’s life and his shade is transported to the Isle of the Blessed, then I will petition Zeus my father to spirit my body from this earth as well, for having finally grown to love and find joy in each other in every way a man and woman do, I have no wish to go on without him. Ever after, we will dwell together in Elysium. Our names and deeds, our passions and our legacies, will live on only in the memory of mankind, in which, I have no doubt, our immortality is guaranteed.
Hermione, it was when I learned of your elopement with Orestes that I sat down to write this memoir. For years you have castigated me for following my passions, heedless of the consequences and collateral damage, and now it appears that you have followed in your mother’s footsteps. Examine your heart, my daughter. Are we fated to behave as we do, or is it the exercise of free will that compels us to follow our destinies?
Sing in me, Muse, and through me tell the story of the life of Helen of Troy!
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Extensive and exhaustive research went into The Memoirs of Helen of Troy; although when all is said and done, it is, of course, a work of fiction. Over the past three millennia, Helen and the heroes and villains of Troy have appeared in many iterations of this tale, each as expressive of its age as it is of its author’s imagination. My story of Helen is no exception: It is a tale for our era, that, while based on evergreen legends, has a certain resonance to our own time and place in history. While I tend to be a stickler for historical accuracy, I admit that in a few places, I decided to play fast and loose with ancient history in order to serve the tale I wished to tell. For example, the Spartan agogi system, and their nearly single-minded focus on the culture of war, postdates the Bronze Age, but moving it back in time served the story. Additionally, there are often several versions of (or variations on) the myths and legends pertaining to the characters depicted in The Memoirs of Helen of Troy. In most instances I chose to accept the most popular version, with a few exceptions, where a lesser-known variation better served my story—such as the parentage of Iphigenia and the method by which Achilles achieved his near-immortality. Any errors of fact are my own. For the ones that are not deliberately reimagined, I beg my readers’ indulgence.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to Den Farrier and M. Z. Ribalow who believed in this book when others thought it was a pipe dream and who encouraged me every comma of the way; to my brilliant agent Irene Goodman and my terrifically insightful editor Rachel Beard Kahan; to Professor Getzel Cohen at the University of Cincinnati for taking the time to discuss with me the ongoing excavations at Troia; and to Susanne Ritt-Nichol for a “crash course” on the effects of pregnancy. Thanks, too, to my late maternal grandmother Norma Carroll, who instilled in me a passion for ancient Greece and the story of Helen when I was a little girl. This is as much her book as it is my mother Leda’s.
Copyright © 2005 by Leslie Sara Carroll
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Crown Publishers, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
www.crownpublishing.com
CROWN is a trademark and the Crown colophon is a registered trademark of Random House, Inc.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Elyot, Amanda.
The memoirs of Helen of Troy : a novel / Amanda Elyot.
1. Helen of Troy (Greek mythology)—Fiction. 2. Troy (Extinct city)—Fiction.3. Greeks—Turkey—Fiction. 4. Mythology, Greek—Fiction.5. Trojan War—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3603.A77458M46 2005
813′.6—dc22 2005003653
eISBN: 978-0-307-33753-5
v3.0
