Helen of Sparta (24 page)

“And the fruit,” he said, rising to
his feet.

She wave
d us away.

Theseus opened the door to the baths, guiding me through with a hand at the small of my back, the heat of his touch seeping through the fabric of my gown. I still held my wine cup in my hand to hide the evidence of my presence at
the meal.

He dropped his hand from my back to pull the door shut behind us, and everything w
ent black.

I strangled a panicked scream into a whimper, my wine cup dropping to the floor. The basket. The hold. The black days with nothing but the sound of water against the hull and the rats, the rats scrabbling and gnawing upon my bones. Tears filled my eyes, and I choked
on a sob.

“Helen?”

I tried to speak, but it only came out a moan. The floor rose beneath my feet, like the deck of the ship, and I stum
bled back.

Theseus’s arm wrapped around my waist, drawing me against his chest. His hand found my cheek, and I hated myself for the moisture he f
elt there.

“Shh,” he said, brushing my t
ears away.

My hands closed into fists around the linen of his tunic, and I could not bring myself to release him. He swung me up into his arms, and I heard the clatter of my cup on the tiles as he kicke
d it away.

“I should have thought to bring a lamp,” he murmured, pushing the door to the queen’s room open. A noise of relief escaped me at the sight of moonlight and glowing embers in the hearth. “Th
ere, now.”

He carried me to the bed, but my fingers still would not open, so he sat with me i
n his lap.

“Oh, Helen.” He stroked my hair from my face. “Was this why you did not sleep la
st night?”

I tried to laugh, but the sound was pitiful. “I’m too old to be so frightened by
the dark.”

“Any man would be made uneasy after what you endured. Everything that has happened to you has come in the night, in the dark, in the shadows. There is no shame in wanting t
he light.”

I hid my face in the curve of his shoulder. “Stay
with me?”

His fingers wound into my hair, and his arm tightened around me.
“Always.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

I
’v
e brought oranges from the East for y
our lady—”

Pirithous stopped in the doorway to the king’s room, staring at me in the same manner Theseus had months earlier when he had first seen my hair. He collected himself much more quickly, and a slow smile spread across
his face.

“My lady.” He bowed. “You are a vision. I would not have recognized you but for y
our eyes.”

I dropped into the Egyptian bow that had so startled Theseus, and had the pleasure of seeing Pirithous’s eyes widen with surprise
as I rose.

“King Pirithous, it is an honor,” I said in
Egyptian.

Theseus laughed and clapped his friend on the back, propelling him into the room and shutting the door behind them. He came to me at once, taking my hand and kissing it before Pirithous could reach me to do the s
ame honor.

“She is convincing, i
sn’t she?”

“Even your brothers must doubt their own eyes, were they to see you now,” Pirithous said, still staring at me as if I were a stranger. “Where did you learn
Egyptian?”

“My tutor, Alcyoneus, was a scribe in Egypt,” I said. “I learned so quickly that he taught me Egyptian just to keep me out of trouble. I can write
it, too.”

Pirithous shook his head. “Worthless then, if Tyndareus knows of it. Or
Menelaus.”

Theseus smiled. “But they don’t. Why would Tyndareus have his daughter taught to write or speak so foreign a tongue? Helen says she learned it without their k
nowledge.”

I nodded when Pirithous glanced at me, confirming Theseus’s words. “Only my tutor knew. I did not even tell Pollux of it, for fear Leda would hear and forbid me from
learning.”

“An Egyptian, hmm?” Pirithous rubbed his jaw, eyeing me. “If she can manage to keep up the lie, it is probably the best solution. Far enough away that no one will know the difference and close enough to be familiar. But what happens when the Egyptians he
ar of it?”

“The pharaoh has at least a dozen concubines in addition to his wives,” I said. I did not need Alcyoneus as a tutor to know that, for the number of the pharaoh’s women was a point of awe to every king in Achaea. For some, this was because they did not know how he could control so many; for others, it was pure envy. I tried not to think of how many palace women Theseus kept. “Send him a gift and ask him not to deny the alliance if it is ever m
entioned.”

Pirithous’s eyes narrowed. “Have you been to Egypt while our backs wer
e turned?”

“Alcyoneus was highborn before he became a slave. His father’s brother was a scribe for the pharaoh
himself.”

“You’re a very strange woman, Helen.” Pirithous’s eyes bored through me, but I ignored his scrutiny, passing him his cup. “The more I know of you, the less I un
derstand.”

“Then it is fortunate I will be Theseus’s wife and not yours.” I smiled to take the sting from my words. In the months we had spent together since my arrival, I had not yet had cause to regret giving myself into Theseus’s care, nor did I expect to find reason. There was nothing he would not do to bring me even the smallest pleasure, and I was careful not to abuse his g
enerosity.

Theseus squeezed my hand and waved us both to our seats at the low table in the corner where I had shared my first meal with his family. “Fortunate indeed. Pirithous would not treat you half
so well.”

“I’ve never received any complaints,” Pirithous said, all bu
t leering.

Theseus’s hand found my knee beneath the table, and I bit my tongue on what would have been an uncivil response, dropping my gaze to my cup. Picking a fight with Pirithous would not do us any favors now. Turning me into a foreign princess was the only way Theseus and I would ever be free to marry while Menelaus hunted for me still. If Theseus produced an Achaean bride of any beauty, he was sure to come, no matter what color
her hair.

“Will you take the message to the pharaoh?” Theseus asked after Pirithous had filled his plate and taken a healthy bite of cold lamb. “On our behalf? I do not see why he should refuse, when it was not so long ago that one of his line went
to Crete.”

Pirithous stopped chewing, then picked up his cup and took a long drink. He set the cup back down slowly. “
To Egypt?”

“You’re the only one I can trust with it, save perhaps my sons. But Demophon is too young to go alone even if the nobles would not notice his
absence.”

“When you were his age, you were bull dancing
in Crete.”

“At Poseidon’s command and against my mortal father’
s wishes—”

“And what difference does it make if the court knows Demophon has gone to Egypt to secure his father a bride? It sounds to me as though it would be more suspicious if you didn’t send him. Going yourself would make the mo
st sense.”

My stomach lurched at the words. Acamas had told me the oarsmen yet spoke of Aphrodite’s appearance aboard ship, and while it was not proof enough on its own to raise an army against Athens, Agamemnon would use any excuse to nibble at Theseus’s borders in his absence. So much the better if he found me here as well. Theseus only shook his head. “I won’t leave Helen unprotected, and bringing her to Egypt unseen would be impossible even if she had not sworn off sailing after the storm. As different as she appears, she will still be noticed anywhere
she goes.”

Pirithous grunted, his eyes sweeping over me in a way that made me flush. “You should send Demophon, all the same. The boy is desperate for glory, and a little raiding would go a
long way.”

“He is not even sixteen, Pirithous.” Theseus’s jaw was set, the muscles twitching with strain, and he ground his words between his teeth. “Athens cannot lose another heir, and I will not risk him. It would be one thing if he had sailed any distance before, but to send him on such a journey without experience would tempt t
he Fates.”

“Only a fool coddles his son. Especially if he is to
be king.”

“Enough!”

Theseus’s fist hit the table so hard, I flinched and the wine cups jumped. He swallowed and turned his face away, inhaling deeply through
his nose.

“If you take such an interest in my son, by all means take him with you, but I will not send h
im alone.”

Pirithous’s lips twitched, and I wondered if he had been stopped by Demophon on his way through the palace. I’d never heard him gripe to his father, but from some of the comments he’d made, and the time he spent in the practice field, I would not have been surprised if he’d mentioned something to
Pirithous.

“I suppose I will be returning from Egypt with your bride. Shall I find a suitable slave in the market before I set sail? We can parade her in through the gates of the palace and smuggle her right back out again, leaving Helen to take h
er place.”

“Dark-haired and as close in body as you can find,” Theseus agreed. “You can keep her veiled while you ride in. Blame it on foreign custom, and no one will know the di
fference.”

“Meryet,” I said. It was the simplest name I could think of, and much better than being named for a god in the common Egyptian fashion. Alcyoneus’s gods may have been less terrible than ours, but I wanted nothing to do with them just the same. “Call he
r Meryet.”

“Are we really in a position to be naming the pharaoh’s supposed daughter?” Pirithous picked up his cup and leaned back in his seat. “Don’t we need his permission first, before we jump to naming conventions? For that matter, what do you intend to do if he
says no?”

I shrugged. “Pretend I’m a Hittite instead, I
suppose.”

“And do you speak the language of the Hittites
as well?”

“No. But how many Athenians can tell the difference between Egyptian and
Hittite?”

Pirithous grinned. “I’ll be lucky if I can make myself understood in Egyptian. I don’t suppose you’ll make it easy and just send me with a clay tablet inscribed with your
request?”

I frowned. “It will take more than one, and I cannot promise it will be
perfect.”

“I’ll have Aethra bring tablets and a stylus in the morning,” Theseus said, taking my hand. His thumb caressed my skin, and when he looked at me, I could hear the sea washing against the beach in soft waves. “The sooner the better. It will be a month’s journey by ship to Egypt, perhaps weeks before the pharaoh will see them, and another month t
o return.”

“Pray to Poseidon we’re not smashed to pieces in either direction,” Pirithous added cheerfully. “If we return within three months, it will be by his grace alone. Unless Athena will help you in t
his, too?”

Theseus sighed and tipped a portion of his wine into a golden bowl. “May she remember her promise and give us
her aid.”

Pirithous added his own libation to the bowl, and I did
the same.

“I’ll offer a bull to Poseidon tomorrow for good weather and gentle seas.” Theseus rose from the table and poured the wine into the hearth fire with a few more words under his breath. The flames burned more brightly for a moment, accepting the gift. “Perhaps he’ll grant me that much of h
is favor.”

“Be sure to say it is for his grandson,” Pirithous murmured. “Even if he has no love for you, surely he would not see Demophon suffer after what happened with Hi
ppolytus.”

Theseus nodded. “Perhaps you’
re right.”

“I usually am. And if your wedding to Helen is accomplished without incident, I’ll claim all the credit for that, too. You will owe me, Theseus, and do not think I will f
orget it.”

“A debt I will be happy to repay. Shall we make it a wife for a wife?” Some of the tension had left Theseus’s face, and he offered his friend a smile, though not his most charming or his mos
t genuine.

Pirithous’s eyes narrowed, his lips twitching. “Sworn upon the Ri
ver Styx?”

My own gaze shifted to Pirithous, for to ask such a thing—a prickle of unease slipped down my spine. Oaths upon the Styx were never to be taken lightly, and to break them meant worse than dishonor. A half-life, if one surviv
ed at all.

“Are you truly so lonely as to demand such an oath?” Theseus asked,
laughing.

“Only when I am forced to bear witness to your love,” Pirithous said. “Now, will you swear, or w
on’t you?”

“A wife for a wife,” Theseus agreed, much too easily for my taste. “Upon the Styx. And once Helen is queen, she will help me in the search for such a woman, will
you not?”

“I will have no trouble discerning which women he should
not
marry, in any case.” I held out my hand to him, and Theseus returned to the table, taking it and sitting down beside me once more. When he was in such good spirits, I could not bring myself to frown at him over a promise made to his friend. And it was true that we would owe Piritho
us a debt.

Pirithous snorted. “How do you even make it through the day’s business when you have her waiting
for you?”

“With determination,” Theseus answered, grimacing. “And it will be harder yet if Demophon chooses to accompany you. I suppose I’ll have to make more use of Me
nestheus.”

Pirithous looked up from his plate, his eyes sharp. “The son o
f Peteus?”

“
Who else?”

“Watch that one,” Pirithous said. “He’s hungrier than the rest for power. Thinks he has something to prove as a grandson of Er
echtheus.”

“We are blood, and he is loyal, as his line has been, always. Whatever he feels he must prove, he’ll accomplish it as an able administrator, as his father did before him. Why should he want more when I have given him peace and pr
osperity?”

“Peace is all well and good in theory, and I grant you it is much better for our women, but the younger men need something to put their muscles to. Even a minor border skirmish would se
rve them.”

“And shall I wage war against my allies just to appe
ase them?”

Pirithous shrugged, but he glanced at me. Another chill went down my spine. “It isn’t as though Menelaus and Agamemnon would have a hope of winning. And once you had won, Helen could walk freely under her own name without any need to disguise
herself.”

“Had I only the smallest excuse, I would see Menelaus dead,” Theseus said, his voice low and tight. “But he is too much a coward to give me reason for war, and I will not betray my people by inven
ting one.”

My heart beat hard and fast in my chest, my whole body growing cold. Pollux would come, if a war began, whether Tyndareus wished it or not, for he was as eager to test himself as any of the Athenian men, and Castor would not be left behind. And if they fought in my name, Tyndareus would have to send an army or
be shamed.

I shook my head, trying to fight the image of my brothers’ bodies broken below the Rock. I did not want to see them killed. Not because of me. I had come here to avoid a war, not drag Sparta into another. The losses in Athens would be nothing to what Sparta would suffer. And my
brothers!

“Shh, Helen,” Theseus said, and it was only then I realized I had made any noise, though I did not know what it might
have been.

He turned my face to his and stared into my eyes until the panic that choked my breathing and made my ears buzz was replaced with the roar o
f the sea.

“It will not come to that,” Theseus said. “I swear it to you. Your brothers will no
t suffer.”