Helen of Sparta (23 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

I
sat on a stool before a great bronze disc so large it might have made a set of armor instead of serving as a polished mirror for the previous queen of Athens, Phaedra. All around its edge, it had been etched with bare-breasted women in tiered skirts, carrying bowls and platters, weaving at large looms, raising snakes into the sky. In Sparta, we had treasured the few mirrors we owned, only the size of an open hand at the largest, and kept them in fur-lined pouches so they would not be scratched. Had I known nothing else of Phaedra, this mirror would have told me everything that mattered. As it was, I now knew far, far
too much.

Behind me, Aethra worked upon my hair. Most she had left to fall in thick chestnut waves down my back, but the top half she had pulled back into a knot at the crown of my head, holding it in place with ivory pins. The dye had stained her hands poppy red, and the bone comb, once a milk white, would never be less than ora
nge again.

It would all be for nothing, if I still could not walk the corridors of the palace without attracting stares. It would not have been so bad if I’d had something to do, but Phaedra’s room might as well have been empty for all the activity it offered. No loom, no fibers to spin into yarn or thread, and no spindles to wrap them around. It seemed all the queen had done in her room was lounge on cushions and drink wine, for the shelves certainly did not lack
any cups.

“It isn’t going to be enough,” I said, staring at my reflection
. “Is it?”

Her blue eyes met mine in the mirror. Pale and unchanging, they were nothing like Theseus’s. “It’s a beginning. If anyone catches sight of you leaving a room, they at least will not know you by y
our hair.”

I sighed.

One day I had been in Athens, half of that spent in sleep, and already I felt if I could not leave the queen’s rooms, I would go mad. Such was the price of freedom, I supposed, and I curled my fingers beneath the stool to keep from fidgeting. I would not leave until it was safe, not after the incident on the ship, but surely Theseus did not intend for me to sit idle all
day long.

Aethra glanced behind her, checking the angle of the sun. The shadows had lengthened considerably since we
had begun.

“My son would not have brought you here if he did not think he could give you some joy of it,” she said, her hand dropping to my shoulder. She squeezed it once and then smiled. “Shall we see what Theseus thinks of your
disguise?”

I rose and smoothed the green skirt over my hips, my fingers lingering on the fabric. In Sparta, I had worn fine linen, bordered with rich embroidery, but never something as smooth as this. It felt like the caress of water agains
t my skin.

“Was this gown P
haedra’s?”

“Mine, once, when I was not much older than you. King Aegeus sent me bolts of the finest fabrics after the news of Theseus’s birth had spread. For months after, peddlers would come to Troezen, take one look at me, and declare that the gods had told them it belonged to me. I think if Aegeus could have acknowledged us, we would have been swimming i
n riches.”

“But Theseus claims he is the son of Poseidon,” I said, following her through the bathing room. “Did Aegeus not
know it?”

“You must understand that Aegeus went to the oracle, desperate for an heir. The answer he received was a riddle, of course, for the gods never speak plainly. So he came to my father in Troezen, hoping his famed wisdom might discern the answer.” Aethra’s lips twitched as she pulled open the door to Theseus’s bedroom, and the glance she gave me was almost sly. “My father realized at once the meaning of the oracle’s words, and he saw an opportunity to advance the fortunes of his people, t
hrough me.

“When Poseidon saw that my father meant to trick Aegeus into my bed, he came to me first. Hair so black it was almost blue, and eyes that seemed to trap the ocean itself in their depths. I could hear the sea, when he looked at me, and seagulls calling to one another. He said he would not let me be defiled by a drunken man who did not know what he was about, for I was too beautiful not to be given my own pleasure in the taking. He did not leave my bed until Aegeus stumbled through the door to take his place. But it was clear from the moment Theseus was born, he had been sown from both men. He has Poseidon’s eyes in Aegeu
s’s face.”

My cheeks flushed. “Poseidon must have l
oved you.”

“Love or not, he honored me, and I have given him thanks for it every day since,” Aethra said. “I would not have traded that night for all the silks and jewels in t
he world.”

I turned from her, so she would not see the confusion in my eyes, pretending interest in the owl carvings on Theseus’s bed. Aethra’s story was nothing like Leda’s. If Zeus had treated my mother so kindly, perhaps she would not have resen
ted me so.

But what Leda thought of me did not matter anymore. And Poseidon had still abandoned his son. Why had the god not saved Antiope? Or Hippolytus? Or even Phaedra? Why had Poseidon not saved Theseus from so much grief and pain? It seemed the gods had only enough kindness for one mortal at a time, and Poseidon had given all of his to Aethra. But then, I did not think Zeus had any kindness for anyone at all. Aethra had been fortunate it was the Earth-Shaker who had come to her t
hat night.

Aethra threw open the curtains of the balcony, and sunlight poured into the room. Now that I was better rested, I noticed how different it was from Phaedra’s. In place of Phaedra’s mirror, Theseus’s bronze sword and shield hung on the wall by his bed, within arm’s reach while he slept. The side table beneath them held nothing at all, though the dark wood was inlaid with ivory. I stared at the image for a long moment before I realized that one of the armies was all women. The war with the Amazons. I looked for Antiope on the side of the men, but could not
find her.

Low stone benches wrapped around the room from the door to the hall to the entrance leading to the bathing room, around a round hearth where Aethra was building up the fire. There was room still for small tables to be set, if he wished to eat in private, and stools of the same height circled the other side of the hearth for more seating. They had cushions, of course, but not even the hint of a tassel, and all were fashioned from undyed fabrics an
d fleeces.

Even the walls were modestly painted, with borders of olive wreaths and branches in subdued tones along the ceiling and the doors. Phaedra’s walls were overwhelmed by color, with so many bulls and horses and dolphins and fish that the eye could not follow any of it. I breathed a sigh of relief to be free of the oppression of such a crowded space and sat on the edge of Thes
eus’s bed.

Perhaps these first days, if Theseus would allow it, I could remake the queen’s room into something less su
ffocating.

The door swung open, a
nd I rose.

Theseus wore a long tunic, belted around the waist. Embroidered fish leapt and flashed with gold and silver filament at the hem above his knees and the cuffs of his sleeves, matching the gold olive leaves of the circlet he wore as a crown. He glanced at me in passing as he entered, then stopped and looked again, his eyes narrowing and his expression fall
ing blank.

I bowed my head.
“My king.”

He stood there for a long moment, the silence stretching b
etween us.

“Where is your courtesy,
Theseus?”

The sharpness of Aethra’s tone tore his gaze from me, and he seemed to notice his mother for the first time. He pressed his lips together, but I could not tell if it was to keep from smiling or
frowning.

“Can’t you see she hoped to pl
ease you?”

“Of course,” Theseus said, turning his attention back to me. He offered a formal bow, and when he lifted his head, sunlight glinted off the sea of his eyes. “Forgive me, Princess. It is only that I was caught by
surprise.”

“It had to be done, and better sooner than later,” Aethra said. “All it would have taken was a glimpse of that hair, the color of sunlight, and word of it traveling back to the Pel
oponnese.”

Theseus nodded, but his eyes did not leave mine. “I’m only sorry I could not give you the freedom to live und
isguised.”

“But you’ve given me the freedom to live,” I said. “Without fear that I will be molested or harmed. That is enough to begin, Theseus, and we will build the rest
upon it.”

He smiled and crossed to me, fingering a strand of my hair. Aethra had refused to oil it, saying there was no reason when it already gleamed. “No matter what color your hair is, you are still the loveliest woman I have ever known. It is your spirit, Helen, that makes you so, and that much you will never have to hide as long as you live within my walls. I
swear it.”

“Then do not fret so,” I said, though I knew I chided myself as mu
ch as him.

Theseus laughed, pressing his forehead to mine. “I will do
my best.”

His breath tickled my skin, sweet with honey, and I closed my eyes, lifting my face. Theseus had never claimed his prize that day on the practice field, and now he stood so near, I could think of nothing else. He caressed my cheek, and my face burned at his touch. Our nose
s brushed.

But he only sighed and instead of my lips, he kissed my forehead. I bit back my disappointment and hid my face against his chest. He smoothed my hair and rested his chin ato
p my head.

“Forgive me,” he
murmured.

I did not trust myself t
o respond.

The table overflowed with food, and it was fortunate the sun had not set, for there would be no room for oil lamps until after we had eaten. Demophon bowed to me formally, and Aethra prodded Acamas, too busy smiling, to do the same. Theseus’s sons both had hair as black as jet, but I wondered if they had gotten it from Poseidon, their grandfather, or from their mother. From their manners, and the way Acamas looked to her for guidance, I had no doubt it was Aethra who had ra
ised them.

“What will happen in Sparta?” Demophon asked after we had all eaten as much as we could. “With the heir missing, who will
inherit?”

“My sister,” I said. “Though if she is promised already to Agamemnon, my father might choose to give the throne to Pollux. I do not think the people would mind so much, if he passed over Nestra for a son of Zeus, but Sparta has always been inherited through its daughters, as long as one lived. He might wait to see if the people would welcome Agamemnon as their king before he
decides.”

“For the sake of your people, I hope the kingdom falls to Pollux,” Theseus said. “He’ll make a fine king when he’s put to the task, and care more for them than Agamem
non will.”

I brushed my thumb over the impressions of a chariot race on my wine cup. The hearth fire lit the room with a warm glow now that the sun had fallen lower, and the wheels almost looked as if
they spun.

“I think Tyndareus will want to honor Zeus. That was what Leda always said. That it was not only that I had been born first, but that I was Zeus’s daughter that made
me heir.”

“Is it true what they say of Castor?” Acamas asked. “Can he tame a horse with just a word? They say he knows the secret names the horses call one another, and when he whispers those names in their ears, they acknowledge him as th
eir lord.”

I buried the pang of grief that came with my brother’s name, and forced myself to smile. “Castor is very good with horses, but as far as I know, he does not whisper secret names. The head of my father’s stables swore my mare would never be broken, but Castor trained her to a bridle in a month, and she responded to every twitch on the reins as though she knew my
thoughts.”

Acamas sighed. “I suppose now he’ll never come to Athens, or if he does, you will not be able to ask him to
teach me.”

The smile faded from my lips. “I sup
pose not.”

“That’s enough,” Aethra said. “Demophon, see your brother to
his bed.”

Demophon grimaced, but he rose and dragged his brother with him by the arm before he could protest. “Good night,
my lady.”

Aethra guided them out the door, though I saw she paused long enough to kiss them both on the cheek before shutting it be
hind them.

“I’ll have to call the servants in, or they’ll wonder,” Aethra said, moving my plate to the center of the table as if it were an empty serving dish and shifting the others so there were only four places set. “Theseus, they will not think anything amiss if you’ve disappeared to the baths. Take Helen and bolt the door behind you. I’ll be sure they leave you
the wine.”