Helen Had a Sister

by Penelope Haines

  “Can’t you persuade the traders to go round their clients in a different order?” I asked. “At least that way others would get a chance to buy supplies.”

  “It doesn’t work like that. Traders go where the market is easiest. And there’s another problem. New weapons and materials are coming out of Anatolia, north of us, but near-neighbour to Troy. A trader showed me a knife with an odd-coloured blade. I thought it an ornament, but he let me use it, and it was more powerful than bronze and kept its edge. We need this technology if we are to hold our dominant position, but the Trojans have it in their capability to ensure we never get it. Can you imagine the imbalance of power in the region if Troy manages to equip an army with these new weapons?”

  I thought Agamemnon was probably overstating the problem. Greeks had used bronze weapons for hundreds of years; no doubt we would use them for hundreds more. It would be like my husband to work himself up over nothing. I shrugged and went off to manage my family and maids.

  The next word from Menelaus was that he had returned from Troy, having successfully completed his mission. Appropriate rites of propitiation had been performed, and the plague in Sparta should resolve itself. His message contained some of the information Agamemnon had asked for but was very light on detail.

  “Why couldn’t he understand the importance of what I asked for?” stormed my husband. “I asked for trade and armaments figures. I want a detailed description of Troy’s defences, and instead I’m told how generously Menelaus is treated by the Trojan royal family, how hospitable they were, and how he’s brought some princeling back with him to help him with purification rites. The man’s an idiot.”

  I grinned. “I’m glad he had a nice time. What does the prince want purification for?”

  Agamemnon glared at me. I wondered if he was about to be unpleasant, but he relented.

  “Apparently the man accidentally killed his best friend in an athletic contest so he needs purification, and Menelaus has offered to have it performed for him. What a waste of time.”

  I knew Agamemnon’s mood hadn’t been improved by the accompanying news that his grandfather, old Catreus, had died in Crete. Obviously a family member needed to be present to ensure that a proper burial and all its attendant ceremony was carried out. Menelaus, apparently exploring a previously unsuspected spiritual side to his nature, had volunteered for the job and headed for Crete.

  I wondered whether Helen had managed to coax him into taking her on this trip but suspected she’d been left behind again.

  CHAPTER

  FIFTEEN

  WE WERE ROUSED IN THE MIDDLE of the night. Agamemnon leapt from bed, grabbing for his sword. The maid who had woken us looked terrified.

  “What’s the matter? You, woman, how dare you come in here and disturb your master? You’d better have a good reason.”

  “It’s King Menelaus,” was all the poor girl got out. “He is demanding to see you now. He says it’s urgent.”

  Agamemnon grabbed a tunic and rushed out. I got up rather more slowly and slid a robe over my shoulders. It would have to be something very compelling to force Menelaus to arrive in the mid-watches of the night. The road up to our citadel was twisty, steep, and not one I would have wanted to drive by night.

  It said something for his urgency that he had managed to persuade the gatekeeper to let him through. Once the city gates were closed for the night, no one was allowed in or out. Menelaus would have had to convince the guard his visit was enormously important for them to break that law.

  I went into the great hall. The servants were scurrying around lighting candles, rekindling the brazier and pouring wine. Menelaus was sitting on a bench beside Agamemnon. “She’s gone,” I heard him say.

  “Who’s gone?” I said sharply.

  The men looked across at me.

  “Good evening, Menelaus,” I said.

  His appearance was a shock. His usual amiable grin had disappeared. Beneath the fading rust colour of his hair, his face was grey and drawn.

  “Who has gone?”

  “Helen. Apparently she’s run away,” said Agamemnon. “Carry on, Menelaus. What happened?”

  I sat down in a hurry. She had said she was restless and frustrated, but surely my sister wouldn’t have just bolted?

  “I don’t know,” said Menelaus. “Everything seemed fine when I went to Crete for our grandfather’s funeral, but I arrived home yesterday to find Helen has decamped and gone to Troy, with Paris.

  “Paris?”

  “The young Trojan prince I told you about a few weeks ago. He’s been staying with us as our guest while he underwent purification for killing a friend. When I left for Crete he had just about completed absolution. I don’t understand. Why would Helen do such a thing? Why run away with a virtual stranger, and why would she leave Hermione?”

  Agamemnon rubbed his chin. “You are sure she left willingly? I mean, are you certain she hasn’t been abducted by this man?”

  “I questioned the servants. They all said she walked onto his ship willingly.” Menelaus rose from his seat and began to pace the floor.

  “And you had no previous reason to suspect they were having an affair, or that there was an attraction between them?”

  “Absolutely nothing,” said Menelaus. “I would hardly have left her in the palace with him while I was away if I had thought something like this would happen. She’s my wife, I can’t believe she would betray me like this.”

  “May the goddess curse all unfaithful women,” said Agamemnon. “It doesn’t look good, Menelaus, having a wife cuckold you like this. Did they take anything else? Money, weapons?”

  Menelaus shook his head. “I don’t think so. Helen’s taken her own jewellery, of course, and a couple of her slaves – the two we captured that time we rescued her from Theseus. Paris has his own ship, so transport was easy for them. He was provisioning her when I left for Crete. I still can’t see why Helen would do this to me. You’re right, it makes me look like an idiot, but the truth is, I have no idea why she should go.”

  So Helen had taken Aethra and Phisiades? I wondered at that. They had been with her so long, I suppose she felt they were friends.

  “She wasn’t happy,” I said.

  Their heads swung towards me with such a synchronised unity it would have been the envy of a trained hoplite band. I had to choke back a nervous giggle.

  “What do you mean?” asked Menelaus. “She never said she was unhappy. Why would she be unhappy? She’s Queen of Sparta.”

  “Did she say something to you, Nestra? Did she tell you she was going to do this?”

  I could see Agamemnon beginning to fuel his anger. I didn’t intend to be his victim, not even for Helen. “No, of course not. Of course she didn’t,” I said hurriedly. I turned to Menelaus. “She asked if she could go to Troy with you, and you refused her. Did she also ask if she could go to Crete?”

  “Yes, but what’s that got to do with anything? Are you saying she’s run off with a lover because I didn’t take her travelling? That’s a nonsense.” Menelaus was practically spluttering.

  “No, maybe not. But she said she felt life had passed her by. I think she wanted to do something exciting. Travel might have given her the adventure she needed. She never indicated that she wanted a lover.” I could see total incomprehension on both their faces. “Helen has always been bright and adventurous. She may have felt she wanted more from life than managing the maids and weaving tapestries.”

  They looked even more confused. I decided to remain quiet.

  “What am I supposed to do now?” asked Menelaus. He looked so downcast my heart went out to him. I had always thought his was the nicer nature of the two brothers, although he had only half Agamemnon’s intelligence. He was what he had always been, a nice man, clearly out of his depth.

  Agamemnon and I returned to our bed, and the palace grew quiet around us. I lay there wondering and worrying about Helen, out somewhere on the sea. Wha
t on earth had led her to this catastrophic act? I could see no good coming from it.

  What, I wondered, did Leda and Tyndareus make of her actions? I imagined them distraught. What did the people of Sparta think? And, most concerning, how was Hermione? I thought back to the sweet, golden-haired girl who had tagged around behind Iphigenia, and I grieved for her loss of childhood innocence.

  I went back over the conversations Helen and I had shared during her visit. I thought I had been right in suggesting Helen had far too much spare time to overthink her dissatisfaction with life. It came to me that Helen had probably had the easiest life of us all. She had married, stayed in her childhood home and become Queen of Sparta almost by default, because Tyndareus and Leda had retired soon after her wedding to Menelaus.

  She had never had the stress of leaving home or adapting to a new country and people. She did no useful work because she had never needed to. If Menelaus went away, Tyndareus kept an eye on things for him. Her life might sound desirable, but I could see how it could have been boring for an intelligent, high-spirited young woman.

  Agamemnon stirred beside me. “Are you awake, Nestra?”

  “I can’t sleep. I’m so worried about Helen. What’s going to happen when she arrives in Troy? I don’t imagine the royal family are going to greet her with open arms. No one likes an adulterous woman, and Paris has betrayed his obligations as a guest.”

  Agamemnon’s hand reached out and grasped mine. “I can’t understand why she ran away. I don’t believe Menelaus treated her badly, but whichever way you look, it’s made him the laughing stock of Greece. Helen’s supposed to be sired by Zeus. She’s the most beautiful woman in the world, and Menelaus has lost her to another. You can see how that appears. It makes him look weak.”

  I nodded into the darkness. “I am so afraid for her. Do you think Menelaus will go after her?”

  “We’ll talk about it tomorrow, or rather, later today. I think he has to do something for the sake of his reputation. No man can be expected to put up with an insult like this from another sovereign country, let alone allow his wife to be so undutiful. The larger question is how involved we need to be. I can’t let my brother go unsupported against Troy. It would save a lot of trouble if, when Helen arrives, they pack her onto the first ship they can and send her back to her husband.”

  I shuddered.

  CHAPTER

  SIXTEEN

  IPHIGENIA BURST INTO MY CHAMBER EARLY in the morning, her hair undressed and her gown barely fastened.

  “Is it true? About Auntie Helen? They say she’s run away and left Hermione behind.”

  I gathered the distraught girl to me. “It seems to be true. It’s certainly what Menelaus believes.”

  “How could she desert Hermione like that?” she wailed. Poor Iphigenia, on the cusp of adulthood herself, trying to understand the incomprehensible.

  “Oh, my darling, we haven’t heard the full story. There may be an explanation that we don’t know yet.” Even as I spoke the soothing words, I admitted to myself the only possible excuse was divinely inspired madness. Otherwise the obvious interpretation was a tawdry betrayal of decency by both Helen and Paris.

  Agamemnon had left early. He was summoning the captains of his army for a meeting with Menelaus. The men would decide what the next course of action would be.

  I feared for my sister. The men would be angry and their mood punitive. Helen’s beauty and semidivine reputation was unlikely to save her from an angry army bent on retaliation.

  I helped Iphigenia dry her eyes and compose herself. “Your father will work out what to do for the best,” I assured her, although I wondered what possible course of action could be described as ‘the best’.

  The palace, of course, was in an uproar. Every man, woman and child, whatever their status, had an opinion on the matter and were prepared to stand all day defending their position. I had to be quite firm with the staff to get them to return to their duties.

  “I want no further gossip,” I declared crossly. “We haven’t got all the facts, and the warriors are working out a course of action. That’s all you need to know. Now get back to work, and don’t let me hear from any of you again.”

  Gradually they dispersed and I was able to get some work out of them. The world could fall around us but there was still food to be prepared, stores to be preserved, linen to darn and cleaning to do. When the slaves realised that standing round wringing their hands simply resulted in their workload increasing, they shut up.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. I was finding it hard enough to deal with my own emotions without worrying about everyone else’s.

  The men’s meeting carried on long into the night. Every now and then I would hear raised voices coming from the hall. I let them be. I didn’t want to know what they were planning.

  Agamemnon came to bed late. He was tense, wound up, overexcited and overtired.

  I sat up, letting the sheet fall to my waist.

  “How did it go?” I asked.

  He sat on the end of the bed, sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “As you would expect, I suppose. Everyone wanted to express their own point of view, and not one of them was original. I had to sit through it all before I could get any sense out of them.”

  “Did you come to any consensus?”

  “Not yet,” he said cautiously. “But we did make progress. Oddly enough, it was Menelaus who triggered it.”

  That didn’t sound hopeful. Menelaus wasn’t the greatest thinker or problem solver.

  “What did he suggest?” I asked.

  “He didn’t suggest anything. But he did remind us of how he was chosen as Helen’s husband. Menelaus was simply taking a trip down memory lane, but it reminded me of the oath we all swore to defend whichever husband was chosen for Helen. I think we may be able to invoke it in this case.”

  “Hardly,” I said. “That oath is years old and was only intended to prevent the unsuccessful suitors murdering each other on the way home from the competition. I can’t see what it would have to do with Helen running off with a lover.”

  Agamemnon smiled at me. “That’s where you’re wrong,” he said. “There was no time limit set. The oath required us: to stand behind whomever was selected and be ready at any time in the future to defend the favoured bridegroom against any wrong done to him in respect of the marriage. I think this situation qualifies.”

  I looked at him. “Are you sure you have the wording correct? It was a long time ago.”

  “Oh yes,” he said with confidence. “I remember very well. It’s not often a man has to swear such a serious oath. I can still quote the exact form of the words.”

  I thought about that. I wondered if Agamemnon’s recall was exact. I wouldn’t put it past him to lie if it suited him, but then it would take another suitor with equally good recall to be able to refute it.

  “There were dozens of suitors,” I said. “If they all honour their oath and bring their warriors, it would mean an enormous army.”

  “I know,” said Agamemnon smugly. “Just think, Nestra. This might be the chance we need to take on Troy and crush them. Imagine if we brought the entire Greek army against them? We’d have no trouble with trade routes and supplies for years after that.”

  “But that’s got nothing to do with Helen or Paris,” I protested. “You can’t start a full-scale war just because one woman’s run away.”

  “No, but I can use it as the excuse to start a war, and bound by that oath, the warriors will surely unite and fight for it.”

  I didn’t like the sound of the proposal one little bit. I was less concerned about Agamemnon’s desire to fight than I was about Helen being a helpless pawn in the middle of it all.

  I was opening my mouth to say so, when Agamemnon added, “Let’s just hope the Trojans don’t go and send the silly porne straight back to us. That would spoil all the fun.”

  The next day the warriors accepted Agamemnon’s proposal. I he
ard the cheers ringing from the hall as they reached agreement and wondered whether Agamemnon had considered the logistics of this exercise. I hoped he wasn’t planning on assembling this mass of military might on the plains outside Mycenae. How would we feed them all? The countryside would be stripped bare in days.

  Any sympathy I’d felt for Helen was fading fast as the repercussions of her actions began to set in.

  CHAPTER

  SEVENTEEN

  MESSENGERS WERE SENT OUT TO EVERY corner of Greece, reminding Helen’s erstwhile suitors of their vow. It would take a few weeks for the messengers to reach their destinations and for those who took that oath to be convinced that they would have to participate in Agamemnon’s grand plan.

  In the meantime, Agamemnon sent urgent word to Odysseus.

  He explained his actions to me over dinner one evening. “We must be seen to handle this crisis in a manner befitting our dignity and political credibility.”

  I rolled my eyes at his solemn mien. He couldn’t fool me. I knew he wanted to go to war and was itching to have a go at the Trojans. If Helen hadn’t been involved I would have been encouraging him to go. I knew as well as he that an army of bored, under-occupied warriors was a recipe for trouble in any town.

  Agamemnon saw my face. “This is serious, Nestra. There must be no carping later that we were an aggressive rabble. I’m sending Odysseus and Menelaus on a mission to Troy to negotiate retrieving Helen.”

  “I thought that was the last thing you wanted?”

  He laughed. “Menelaus I can’t trust, but I guarantee I can get Odysseus to negotiate in such a manner that the Trojans kick them back to Greece empty-handed. It’s the sort of game Odysseus was born to play. He’ll enjoy it.”

  I saw them off as they started on their journey. Menelaus was a wreck. He didn’t look as if he’d had any sleep in a month. Odysseus looked debonair and amused. Agamemnon was right. He would be playing to his strengths.