Helen of Sparta (25 page)

The tightness in my chest eased. “No war, Theseus. Pr
omise me.”

His jaw clenched, and he did not answe
r at once.

“I would have no more lives lost over me,” I said, clutching at his hand and pressing it to my cheek. “Not even Me
nelaus’s.”

“I will not promise not to kill him, Helen.” His eyes had turned the flat gray of a hurricane, and he pulled his hand away too carefully, as if he did not trust his own strength. “Do not ask
it of me.”

I turned my face away, that he would not see the words half-formed on my lips. Theseus had never spoken to me with a king’s voice until that moment, nor truly refused me anything, and I was not so great a fool as to press him further. It was one thing to ask him to spare the life of the shepherd boy, innocent and too young to know what he meddled with, but I remembered then, what Pirithous had said, that day on the field before they had fought. Theseus would never forgive Menelaus for what he’d done. But it was more than that, and I had been a fool not to see it b
efore now.

Theseus wanted Menelaus dead. And if Mycenae marched on Athens, he would make certain he ha
d his way.

I did not speak of it again, and nor did Pirithous, within my hearing. For that much, I was
grateful.

The next morning, Theseus gave me clay tablets, and with Pirithous and Demophon, we argued over the language of the message that would be sent. In the end, I wrote three versions, each more specific than the last, with the third to be given only to the pharaoh himself, and Theseus pressed his owl seal into the
soft clay.

Demophon and Pirithous left for Egypt three days later with two square-sailed ships and the most troublesome of the young men, spoiling for war. Theseus went to the port at Piraeus to watch them sail, and I practiced
patience.

It would be a very long thr
ee months.

C
HAPTER TWENTY-THREE

I
stood on the palace walls to watch the procession, my hair and face hidden by a shawl. Most of the palace women had found an excuse to slip outside. Whether it was out of curiosity for their new queen, or simply to avoid being put to work by Aethra, I didn’t know, but at least I would not be noticed. It was the nearest to freedom I’d been since arriving
in Athens.

Theseus rode up from the port at the head of an honor guard, his chariot drawn by three shining horses, white as sea foam. A woman stood at his side in a flowing gown of pale yellow, her face and hair hidden. Even from this distance, I could make out the finery of her clothing and the glint of golden bracelets and necklaces. It seemed Pirithous had not spared an
y expense.

The women surrounding me whispered to one another. Theseus hadn’t had a woman in his bed but me since he’d returned from Sparta, and few of them had been pleased with the development once they realized it would remain that way. Not that they knew who had displaced them, but the fact that they found his celibacy alarming told me more than I wishe
d to know.

“Helen’s curse,” one of them hissed. “They say any man who looks upon her will never see another woman again. And now she has bewitched our king
as well.”

“Don’t be foolish,” another answered. “If he were bewitched by Helen, he’d hardly be marrying an Egyptian princess. It isn’t as though he needs a wife, and Athens certainly has no need of a queen as long as Aethra runs his household and serves as high p
riestess.”

The first woman sniffed. “Better for all of us if she went to Hades instead and Theseus remained unmarried. Then he would have to choose one of us to run the household
at least.”

“And you think it would be you?” The second woman laughed. “You barely lasted a month in
his bed.”

My face burned beneath my scarf, and I moved away as quickly as possible without drawing attention. Devoted as Theseus might be to me now, and as beautiful as I might have been to him, I was already nervous enough about our wedding night without hearing stories of the other women he had kept before me. Not when, in all the time I had slept beside him, he still had not yet done more than kiss my forehead and wish me pleasant dreams. I was beginning to fear he never would. Or worse. If a palace woman had only pleased him for a month, what hope did I have of lasting any longer? Perhaps he simply had not wished to tire of me until after we mar
ried . . .

The parade worked its way up the switchback to the palace gates. They had drawn near enough now that I could see Pirithous and Demophon, brown as the desert, riding on horseback behind Theseus’s chariot. Demophon looked as though he had aged a full year, though they had been gone only fo
ur months.

“My lady?”

Acamas tugged on my sleeve, peering into my face. He kept his voice just above a whisper. Theseus had trained him so; whispers carried farther than
low tones.

“Aethra says you should come in now, so that you might be
waiting.”

“Of course.” I glanced about me to be sure no one watched. The others had eyes only for the p
rocession.

Acamas led me across the courtyard in silence, and we slipped into the palace through the servants’ quarters. He knocked on the door to the queen’s room and Aethra pulled it open, a frown clearing the moment she saw me. I should not have left my rooms, but now was the safest time, and I had taken no unnecess
ary risks.

“Fortunate for you that Acamas knew where to find you so easily,” Aethra said, pulling me into the room before I had time to respond. She shooed Acamas away. “Go greet your father and brother. It wouldn’t do for you to be absent from the
megaron.”

Acamas bowed and sprinted back off down the corridor before Aethra had shut
the door.

“Theseus should be at the gates even now,” I said, unwinding the shawl from my face
and hair.

Over the last months, Aethra and I had removed every extra footstool, tasseled cushion, golden wine cup, bowl, vase, and tripod from the room, and with the excuse of the princess coming from Egypt, we’d been able to repaint the walls as well. For appearances, I had chosen Egyptian images: reeds and water lilies and shining obelisks, painted in earth tones, with borders of olive wreaths for Athena. But I spent most of my time in Theseus’s rooms, unless I was dressing or the servants were cleani
ng in his.

“What will you do with the sl
ave girl?”

Aethra took the bone comb to my hair. We had needed to redye it nearly every month to keep the gold fro
m showing.

“If Pirithous does not wish to keep her, I suppose we will send her to serve Athena. The goddess won’t let a slave girl ruin Athens with a wagging tongue, especially if she fa
vors you.”

I didn’t reply. Theseus had been sacrificing to the gods every day since Pirithous and Demophon left. We ate so much lamb and mutton, I did not know if I would ever be able to taste it again without the flavor of his anxiety. Athena, Aphrodite, Hera, Zeus, Poseidon, even Hermes, all received offerings at least once a week. He spent nearly as much time on his knees in the temples as he did in the megaron, and all of it, by his own word, to secure our marriage. And, I thought, because he still feared Zeu
s’s price.

Everything that could be done, every blessing that could be obtained from the priests, he had seen to in preparation for this day. Theseus had even gone to the temples before leaving for the port of Piraeus to ask the priests when we might be married, now that the false Egyptian princess had arrived. I worried more about Menelaus, though we had heard nothing from Mycenae or Sparta since we had sent Pirit
hous away.

Aethra dressed me in the finest clothes I had ever seen. The flounced skirt was made entirely of rare silk and dyed in brilliant blues and yellows. Chiming gold ornaments, sewn to each tier of fabric, tinkled when I moved. The shift beneath was all but sheer and pure white, so light I barely felt it on my skin, but I did not feel exposed, and the blue silk of the bodice fit me perfectly with a gold-accented belt at
my waist.

Aethra insisted that I let her powder my skin with umber and ocher, both, to darken it, and I endured the application of kohl and malachite to my eyes without complaint. Even the least informed knew the Egyptian style, and the paint would further obscure my features. “You can’t hope to paint me this way every time I step out of these rooms,” I
objected.

She stepped back to study her work. “It is the first impression that will matter most, Helen. If we paint you brown from the sun tonight, the people will remember you that way later no matter how pale yo
u become.”

I swallowed my aggravation and closed my eyes obediently as she touched up the face paint ar
ound them.

Acamas burst through the door, making me flinch, and Aethra cursed as she smeared a lin
e of kohl.

“Father,” he gasped. I had no doubt that he had sprinted all the way from the megaron. “And the
Egyptian.”

“Catch your breath, Acamas,” Aethra said, licking her finger to fix the smudge on my face. “And then stand outside. When the woman arrives at the door, show them in. No
one else.”

Acamas disappeared, and Aethra stepped back to look at me again, her eyes narrowed. “Well, it will have to do. Between your hair and the paint, I can’t imagine anyone would recognize you when they expect an Egyptian princess. Even Theseus will have to lo
ok twice.”

I grimaced. “He won’t l
ike that.”

“If it means your freedom, he’ll say nothing against it.” She twisted a lock of my hair into place. We had dyed it as close to black as we could that morning, when word of the ships had come to the palace. “You look beautiful no matter how you are dressed or adorned,
my dear.”

A knock on the door warned us, and I rose to stand out of sight. Aethra wiped her hands on a towel, then turned to welcome her son and his fa
lse bride.

“Welcome!” Aethra kissed the girl’s cheeks through the veil that covered her face and drew h
er inside.

Theseus followed, his gaze searching the room. He found me, and shut the door on the nobles and servants who loitered in the hall. I did not dare to greet him in front of the woman. The less she knew of her role, the better, though I imagined she must have been flummoxed to be greeted as
nobility.

“Pirithous says she is called Layla,” Theseus said, his voice low. “And he kept her veiled and hooded during the journey. None but he and Demophon know
her face.”

“Thank the gods Pirithous has that much sense.” Aethra stripped the gold cuffs from Layla’s arms and passed them to her son. “Come with me, my dear, and we’ll have you bathed and dressed in something a bit less stifling,
shall we?”

The girl ducked her head. “Thank you, my lady. If it ple
ases you.”

Theseus shut the door to the bathing room behind them, hesitating for a moment before turning back to me. His eyes devoured me, as if cataloging every detail of my appearance. My face burned beneath his
scrutiny.

“You make a splendid Egyptian,” he said, just when I felt as though the silence would s
mother me.

I let out the breath I had been holding and dropped low in a
henu
. “My lord h
onors me.”

He crossed the room, and his hand found my fingers, urging me to rise. I glanced up into his face to see he searched mine even as he slipped the gold cuffs up my arms. I traced the patterning of the olive leaves in the gold without looking. The cuffs had been Aethra’s
until now.

“And when this banquet is over, and we are left alone to our marriage bed, will you
honor me?”

I swallowed, though my mouth seemed filled with sand and an ocean roared in my ears. “We marry
tonight?”

Theseus nodded once, our eyes locked together. “The priests say the day is auspicious enough. If you will
have me?”

“Yes,” I said, my voice rough. “My answer will alway
s be yes.”

He drew me against his body, his forehead falling to touch mine. I closed my eyes, breathing him in. Dust and sweat from his journey mixed with the scented oils from his bath that morning, filling my head. Our nose
s brushed.

“Helen—” His voice broke, and I felt the tension of his shoulders beneath
my hands.

He tipped my face up with a gentle finger beneath my chin, and our lips met for the first time. His mouth, warm and confident, tasted of pomegranate. My hand closed into a fist around the material of his tunic, drawing him closer as my lips ans
wered his.

I clung to him when he pulled away, wondering if he felt my body trembling the way his did. My arms slipped around his neck, and my fingers twined themselves into the close curls of
his hair.

Theseus sighed, one of his hands sliding up my arm, our foreheads pressed together
once more.

“
Helen, I—”

I stopped him wi
th a kiss.

Whatever he had to say, I felt sure it w
ould wait.

Aethra scolded us for it later when she found the paint on my mouth smudged and marking Theseus’s lips, but Theseus ignored her to repeat his error one more time before she managed to tear
us apart.

“The king of Athens cannot arrive at his wedding feast covered in dust from the road,” she said, all but shoving him into the bat
hing room.

A strangled noise came from my throat at the loss of his touch, but Aethra only glowered at me and shut him from
the room.

“You would think he had not been king for thirty years and married twice in that time, fool as he is
for you.”

She pushed me down onto a stool and went about fixing the damage Theseus had done. I stared at the door to the bath and wished he wo
uld hurry.

“There. And by the look of you, no one will ever say that Athens did not treat a princess of Egypt with all due courtesy. The court will be stunned into silence at your
banquet.”

Our wedding banquet. My stomach twisted into a knot, and the woman from the palace wall came to my mind. No more than a month in his bed and he had tired of her. How long could I hope to please him, once we were wed? I wished I had thought to ask if he had kept women other than his wives while he was married, but even thinking the question caused my heart to ache. I could never force the words past the lump in my throat to
voice it.

Please, let him be pleased by m
e tonight.