Helen of Sparta (34 page)

“I supposed you had more clothing than you’ll ever wear and wouldn’t begrudge the lending of it to your cousin. Or am I your brother now, since you’ve married my hal
f sister?”

He sighed. “The chest to your right, Pirithous, and be sure you don’t expose yourself to
my wife.”

“Of course.” Pirithous grinned, taking the wine cup from his hand. “You’d better hurry, Theseus. I have it on good authority that Helen is
starving.”

Helen rolled her eyes and crossed the room to the chest Theseus had indicated. Theseus’s last sight of Pirithous included the tunic she had thrown at
his head.

C
HAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

P
irithous sobered at once after Theseus disappeared into the bathing room, and for the first time, when he looked at me, I did not feel as though he imagined me in his bed. I turned my back on him to let him dress, and tried not to be bothered by the lack of humor in his eyes. I had never known Pirithous to be serious, and I did not want to think what it
meant now.

“Theseus said you would not be offended if I offered you my sympathy,” he said quietly, coming to the table after he had dressed. “But there is more that I would say, though he would not wi
sh me to.”

“If Theseus thinks you are better served by keeping it to yourself, perhaps you should listen.” I took a long drink of my wine, already unsettled by what Theseus had told me, echoing as it did the dream I’d had the nig
ht before.

It was the nightmare I had hoped never to have again. I could still feel the strange prince’s hand at my waist, and taste the dust rising from the movement of so many men. I had felt his desire, thick in the air, infecting me, and I wished for Theseus to tak
e me away.

“It is something you should know, and I believe it will give you comfort. Theseus has only kept it from you this long out of fear that the people of Athens will learn t
he truth.”

I looked up at him then, searching for some hint in his features. “Why should Theseus fear his people? He only ser
ves them.”

“Not in this,” Pirithous said, stepping so near to me, I could feel the heat of his body and his breath against my ear. “And if they learn of it, he would lose his kingdom, and all he has done will be for nothing. You will be lucky to escape with yo
ur lives.”

“P
irithous—”

“Your daughter lives,” he breathed. “He exchanged her with another, stillborn, and secreted
her away.”

My heart stopped and my breathin
g with it.

“You must not tell him what I’ve said, Helen. If even for a moment the people of Athens suspect, through a look exchanged between you or a whisper at the wrong moment, they will find her and kill her, just as surely as if he had left her to die. Do you under
stand me?”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I did not think I would ever have air in my chest again. My daughter. Our daughter. And Theseus, forced to let me grieve, unable to even tell me what he had done, knowing it would bring me too much joy. Suffering my anger, my pain at his betrayal, though he had never betrayed me at all. Though he had chosen me and our daughter over the gods. Even ov
er Athens.

Pirithous stepped back, and I stared into his face. His lips curved as he raised his cup to drink. It was as if he rea
d my mind.

“Thank you,” I managed to say, grasping
his hand.

He set aside his cup and kissed my fingers before lett
ing me go.

When Theseus came from the bath and we descended to the feast below, I clasped my husband’s hand, hoping that in my touch, he would feel everything I could not say. He raised his eyebrows, looking down at me, before his gaze shifted to Pirithous, who had donned a mask of innocence almos
t at once.

Perhaps I could not mother her myself, but it was enough to know she lived, and Theseus had m
ade it so.

More th
an enough.

I did not stay long at the feast, too distracted by my thoughts and not trusting myself to keep from my eyes the secret Pirithous had told me. When Pirithous began boasting about the woman he hoped to win as his wife, I excused myself, leaving Theseus to drink with h
is friend.

Weaving kept me occupied while I dreamed of the daughter I had thought lost. I let my mind wander while I worked, trusting my fingers to draw what they wished in the fabric. Since it had begun that way, I saw no reason not to finish it in the sa
me manner.

The sun set, but the full moon and the hearth fire gave me light enough to weave, so I continued. The tapestry grew, the skyline of the city clear now, even engulfed
in flame.

Flame that would never consume me, if last night’s dream was true, though the city itself would perish. And now, knowing my daughter lived, I no longer wished to be devoured by su
ch a fire.

“You’re still awake?” The door shut, but Theseus did not come to stand behind me as he often did, nor did he kiss me in
greeting.

I glanced back to see him seated on the edge of the bed. He dropped his head into his hands, his shoulders bowed under an unseen weight. I abandoned the yarn in my hands. The pinched look around his eyes disturbed me. An evening spent drinking wine with Pirithous should not have upset him so.

“Did Pirithous outdrink you?”

Theseus snorted and rubbed his forehead. “If it were only that, I would slee
p easily.”

“Then what?” I knelt between his knees, that I might see his expression mor
e clearly.

His fingers traced the line of my jaw from my earlobe to my chin. I closed my eyes, leaning into his touch. When Theseus pulled me up from the floor and into his arms, I did not resist. For too long I had refused him, unwilling to love him, insisting that I was not yet recovered. Now more than ever, I missed my husba
nd’s love.

He drew me into his lap and hid his face against my neck. I stroked his hair, determined not to show my frustration, though my cheeks had flushed hot with ant
icipation.

He sighed into my hair. “I don’t know how I will ever l
eave you.”

My blood
ran cold.

“Why?” I asked, barely able to speak
the word.

“Securing Pirithous his bride will require a journey,
” he said.

“Let me come, then. Bring me with you. I promise I will not slow your travel. I’m a good rider. Castor and Pollux saw
to that.”

He lifted his head, and the brief hope that he would grant me such a concession turned to ice in m
y stomach.

“A journey to the house of Hades, Helen,” he said quietly. “And that is no place to bring a wife, even if she is the daughter
of Zeus.”

My forehead furrowed. But when I opened my mouth to ask, he pressed a finger t
o my lips.

“A trip to Hades’s realm is not without risks, I know. But I cannot turn my back on Pirithous in this after everything he has done for us, even if I had not sworn myself to it with that foolish oath—and I do not think for a moment he did not know what he was about, then, asking me for my oath upon the Styx. He would have me show him the way to the gates of the Underworld, but that is only the beginning, the easiest piece of this quest. He means to steal Persephone, and for that he will need the help of another
demigod.”

I pulled his hand away, searching his face. “You can’t be serious. Even if you find the gates, Pirithous cannot take the wife
of a god!”

“I know the way. As a youth I passed the gates and destroyed the monsters set before them. As for what Pirithous can or cannot
do . . .”
Theseus shrugged. “He claims Persephone has called to him in his dreams, begging him to
free her.”

“His dreams!” I launched myself from his arms and turned away, huggi
ng myself.

“It is the same proof you offered, Helen, when you begged me to take you from Sparta. The same proof you acted upon, in seeking Poseidon’s favors. Am I to trust you, and
not him?”

I shook my head, ignoring the reproof. He could not mean it. He could not do it! How long would Pirithous drag Theseus through the Underworld, and how far? Too far. Even if they succeeded, and I did not see how they would steal a goddess without being caught, Theseus would still be lost to me. For months, possibly
for years.

“Is Pirithous’s bride more important than the world? You said he would not have left me to Menelaus, before. He must see reason now. He must know what it will mean. You would give me up to Menelaus, and then this strange prince, i
f you go.”

“I will leave you well guarded in Demophon’s keeping. And surely if Menelaus knew you were here, he would have come already to
take you.”

I could not bring myself to look at him, for fear he would see the tears I fought. A moment’s peace and joy, shattered already. “If you leave, they will find me, and then the city will burn. I’ve seen it, Theseus. In the dream, you are lost, and I am trapped by a foreig
n prince.”

“Shh.” Theseus caught me, pulling me into his arms. “Helen, you will be safe. I swear it. You have no need to worry over this old fear. You are Meryet, now, queen of Athens. You have not had a nightmare in more tha
n a year!”

I shoved at his chest to free myself. My eyes burned with tears. “The dream came la
st night!”

He stumbled back, though I was not sure if it was because I pushed him, or the shock of my words. “La
st night?”

“I did not want to worry you. I thought perhaps it was only my own fears. Too much time spent at
the loom.”

Theseus dropped back to the bed and stared at the hearth fire. “Then you do not know for
certain.”

“This is a fool’s errand, Theseus! I know that much, without
a doubt.”

Yes, we owed our marriage to Pirithous, but now he asked too much, trapping Theseus within a cage of honor and oaths. I would never forgive him for this. Theseus had already suffered. We had both already suffered more than our share. How could Pirithous in one moment bring me so much hope, and in the next strip it from us? A true so
n of Zeus!

“The gods will not forgive it,” I said. “Even if you succeed, they might take me from you out of spite. You know Hades will not let this go unpunished, and the gods have little love for you already and even less for me. Athena cannot protect you in Hades’s o
wn house!”

He dragged his fingers through his hair as if he would rip it from his scalp. The silence choked me, filled as it was with his determination. His gaze shifted over my shoulder, and his face grew even more lined. I did not have to look to know wh
at he saw.

The loom and the citadel in its threads, s
et aflame.

“Persephone can be found in the Underworld only during the winter months,” he said at last. “There are two months still before solstice. If you dream again, perhaps more will be made clear, and Pirithous might be p
ersuaded.”

T
wo months.

Two months until I lost e
verything.

CH
APTER THIRTY-FIVE

T
he nightmare c
ame again.

Menelaus himself breaks down the door, his sword drawn and murder in his eyes. He grabs me, twisting my arm behind my back to pin me against
the wall.

“Tell me why I should let you live,” he growls in my ear. His body presses against my back, trembling with
his rage.

I close my eyes, my face forced against the cool plaster wall. “Kill me, then. Better if you had done that than taken me as y
our wife.”

He twists my arm harder, making me cry out. “You think that if you beg me to kill you, I’ll show
you pity?”

My shoulder feels as though it will pop free from its joint, and I choke
on a sob.

“Do you think I did not hear the rumors of Meryet? Menestheus told me it was you! Theseus’s wife! And where is that great hero to save you, now? I’m sure you didn’t hear of his death while you were locked away inside these walls, sheltered and safe while men die for y
our love.”

Tears fill my eyes, streaming down my cheeks. I cannot ask about Theseus without enraging Menelaus further. Nothing I say now wil
l help me.

“Or maybe you did hear of it, and that’s why you beg me to kill you now. So you can return to your lover in the Underworld. Your noble hero. Do you know how
he died?”

When I do not answer, he twists my arm again, and I can no longer hold back the sob in my throat. Theseus. My love. My hero. My chest feels as though it will burst wi
th sorrow.

“He was so crippled, he could not even walk without aid.” Menelaus sneers. “Your famous husband slipped and fell off a cliff, and Poseidon let him drown in the sea. The gods did not even let him die with honor after his
betrayal.”

“No.” My voice cracks on the word. The image of the man I loved so weakened is too much. Dead now. Drowned. I have not
hing left.

“Menestheus made sure of it. He could not risk Theseus returning to Athens, after all, while he was absent, waging this war. Just as I could not risk Castor and Pollux taking Sparta after you
had gone.”

My brothers. My brothers, too. “I don’t bel
ieve you.”

Menelaus laughs. “What else could keep them from fighting for you, Helen, if not thei
r deaths?”

My body shook with grief even as the hand holding my arm fell away. Another touched my shoulder, gentle
and kind.

“Helen,” a different voice called. “You’re
dreaming.”

Theseus. My living, breathing Theseus. I opened my eyes and stared
into his.

He sighed with relief and caressed my cheek, wiping the tears away with his fingers. “I did not think you would e
ver wake.”

“You
can’t go.”

“Shh.” He gathered me into his arms, tucking my head beneath
his chin.

I hid my face against his chest. “Please, Theseus. You cannot go. I’ll never see you again. And Pollux! He’ll kill Pollux an
d Castor!”

“Shh,” he said again, kissing the top of my head. “Put it from your mind. The morning will be soon enough to discuss it. R
est, now.”

“Menestheus.” But my eyes were already heavy, and the words were difficult to find. I grasped for them, desperate to warn him of his own death, if nothing else. “You’ll s
lip . . .”

When I woke again, Theseus was alr
eady gone.

I sought out Pirithous that morning, and it did not improve my mood to find him flirting with a kitchen maid. The girl on his knee rose at once when she saw me, and Pirithou
s grinned.

“My lady.” His gaze swept over me, and his smile widened. “I’m
honored.”

My eyes narrowed, and though I had not made it my business to interfere with the running of Aethra’s kitchens, my glance at the other women sent them from the room faster than any order I might ha
ve spoken.

Pirithous chuckled. “You make a fine queen,
my lady.”

I slapped him across the face so hard, my hand stung. He had me by the wrist before I had even thought to step back, rising from his seat in the same flu
id motion.

“Once, and deservedly, I might accept violence from your hand, Helen.” He towered over me, and his jerk on my arm nearly lifted me off my feet. “But it is not my habit to ignore such an offense a sec
ond time.”

I raised my chin. “You’ve earned it this time, too, coming here with such a favor in mind. To think I welcomed you as
a friend!”

“I am owed!” He released me, and I fell into the counter, the stone bruising my ribs. “You would not even be here if not for me and the help I gave you both. Now you take offense when I ask for repayment of t
hat debt?”

“To steal the wife of a god, Pirithous, yes! You know how much the gods have already hurt him. He spends more time on his knees than he does on
his feet!”

“All the mor
e reason!”

“More reason for what? For him to castigate himself further? You cannot think you will succeed in this. Even if you reach the Underworld, do you really think Hades will let you leave alive? You said yourself men like you are not meant to marry goddesses, but to se
rve them!”

“And so I do. Persephone calls me and I answer. Just as the gods called you to leave Sparta. Just as Poseidon called Theseus to Crete! I have helped him more times than I can count, and now I ask one favor in return. One! Theseus knows the way better than any mortal, and he has already fought against these demons
and won.”

“In h
is youth!”

Pirithous stepped forward, crowding me against the counter. “Theseus is my only chance at this. Without him, I will fail before
I begin.”

“With him or not, you will fail.” I glared up at him. If I had not been so furious, the flash in his eyes would have terrified me, for there was no kindness left in his face. “Do you have any idea how many men will die for this, Pirithous? He will never forgive himself for what will come because he left with you, and in the end it will mean his death
as well!”

“Theseus has already lived a longer life than most,” Pirithous said. “At least if he dies in this, he will have some kind of revenge for everything he has suffered at the hands of
the gods.”

“Then we will never be free,” I shouted. “After everything he has done to give us that, you would
waste it!”

“Love is never a waste.” His fist crashed into the table behind me, and I flinched at the crack of stone. “You should know that better tha
n anyone!”

“You think a goddess will ever love you? Will ever live at your side? We are nothing to them, Pirithous. Nothing but dirt to grind beneath their heels. You know it as truth. You’ve witnessed it in everything Theseus has suffered. They deserve nothing from us, least of all
our love!”

“Don’t you understand?” He grabbed me again, his fingers digging into my arm. “Your daughter did not have to die! If you had believed, if you had trusted, they would have let you keep her, to be raised to serve them. You brought this down on him, Helen. You did this, not
the gods.”

He threw me away from him then, sending me into the wall. I slid down it, his words a knife in my stomach, poisoning my blood. I was too stunned even to weep. “But you s
aid . . .”

“I lied,” he snarled. “Because Theseus deserved some happiness, after everything he had suffered. You are not the only one who lost a child in all this, and if you had only trusted him instead of going to Poseidon behind his back—” He snapped his mouth shut on the rest of what he would say, and turned away. “You had no right to punish him for doing his duty. Not then, and
not now.”

And then he left me there, with his words spinning throug
h my mind.

He had lied to me. He had lied, and the truth was so m
uch worse.

Our daughter was dead beca
use of me.

I returned to our rooms midday, only to find him sharing a private meal with Pirithous. Theseus saw me before I could withdraw, and he rose to w
elcome me.

“I had the last of the strawberries brought for you, in the hope that you would return to eat them,” he said, pouring me a glass of wine. “And Pirithous brought you
oranges.”

“The least I could do,” Pirithous said, “considering that I must ask you to part with your
husband.”

“Am I asked?” I sat down beside Theseus with ill grace. “I was under the impression you had made up your minds wi
thout me.”

Pirithous smiled, but his eyes were hard. His gaze shifted over my shoulder, and he frowned. “Is that your weavin
g, Helen?”

“Who else?” I turned my attention to the table. A cold haunch of boar sat on a platter, and Theseus deposited several slices on
my plate.

“I had not realized you had been to Troy itself,” Pirit
hous said.

I glanced back at the loo
m. “Troy?”

“The golden towers are impossible to mistake. I’m surprised you did not recognize it, Theseus, as often as you trade with them.” Pirithous poured himself more wine. “Is that the city you see in you
r dreams?”

“Yes.” My mouth had
gone dry.

Pirithous laughed and raised his cup in a toast. “If Agamemnon calls for war against Troy, he may count on me to fight. The sack of Priam’s city will bring glory and riches beyond even what Heracles has attained. To have my name included among those who won it would be as good as immortality, whatever t
he price.”

Theseus’s frown told me he did not share Pirithous’s enthusiasm. “The man who comes for you, Helen, he is
a prince?”

I nodded.

“One of Priam’s sons, then,” The
seus said.

“He has a brother. Tall and grim, broad across the shoulders. He leads
the army.”

Theseus exchanged a glance with Pirithous. “Hector. Priam’s oldest son and Troy’s future king. But I would have thought the man had more sense t
han that.”

“He’s young enough yet to reach for glory over reason,” Pirit
hous said.

“But which of the sons would be foolish enough to steal another ma
n’s wife?”

Pirithous shrugged. “Wasn’t there a prophecy? Something about a son of Priam bringing fire to Troy? But they had the child exposed as a babe. It is d
one with.”

Just as Theseus had exposed our own? I bit my tongue on the words. I would not pain Theseus further. Not when the blame was mine. Pirithous had not lied about
that much.

“Besides,” Pirithous continued, “Helen cannot be stolen from Menelaus while she is not Menelaus’s wife. As long as she is in Athens, none of this
matters.”

“And when you and Theseus leave, who will stop Menelaus from recla
iming me?”

“Demophon and Menestheus will see to your safety,” The
seus said.

Menestheus. I shivered at the name. “In my dream last night, Menelaus told me Menestheus had you pushed off a cliff to yo
ur death.”

Pirithous snorted. “I would give chests of gold to see the man attempt it. To think that anyone could topple Theseus with a push i
s absurd.”

Theseus searched my face, and I went on, though it hurt my heart
to do so.

“He said you were crippled.” The words came out as a whisper. “You fell into the sea and
drowned.”

Theseus touched my cheek. “I am born of the sea. Returning to it does not frighten me. I would simply swim t
o safety.”

“At least we know it will not be our journey to the house of Hades that kills you,” Pirithous said. “I find it a great reassurance to know you are pushed off a cliff to y
our doom.”