Helen of Sparta (26 page)

I had scarcely finished the thought when Theseus returned, his hair still damp beneath the olive leaf circlet and his skin gleaming bronze with oil. He pulled me up, looking on me with eyes brighter than sunlight on the sea. His long tunic was blue silk like my gown, and I wondered whether Aethra had chosen his clothing to match or whether he had done s
o himself.

“Washed and dressed, you look very much the king.”
I smiled.

“And that is the difference between us, for you never look less than a queen.” He kissed my forehead, careful of the paint on my face while we stood under Aethra’s eye. “Are you ready to wear yo
ur crown?”

“For as long as you will have me as y
our wife.”

“Acamas!”

The boy opened the door so quickly at his father’s call, he must have been standing with his ear pressed against the panel. “Yes
, Father?”

“Tell Menestheus it is time, and have the queen’s circlet brought to the
megaron.”

Acamas bowed, grinning, and ran off before Theseus led me out on his arm. For the first time since I had arrived, we walked together in
daylight.

For a wedding gift, Theseus, Hero of Attica, king of Athens, had given m
e freedom.

C
HAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

H
elen hesitated at the entrance to the megaron, and Theseus paused with her, covering her hand on his arm. He smiled to see her biting her lip, and squeezed
her hand.

“If Aethra were here, she would tell you to mind the paint on your face that took her so much time to apply,”
he teased.

Her face flushed beneath the umber, and she looked up at him, the lines around her eyes smoothing as some of the tension left her. “Then I am lucky that Aethra is not here to scold me. Won’t she be at the
banquet?”

“Aethra will bless our marriage herself,” he assured her. “And Pirithous will be there with Demophon. You’ll meet Menestheus tonight and most of the important nobles. But fortunately, you speak Egyptian, not the tongue of these lands. You need do nothing more than smile politely and mark the
ir faces.”

She pressed her lips together and inhaled deeply through her nose, then let it out with a sigh. Whatever her answer was, she spoke it in Egyptian, but he did not mistake her wry smile or the flash of amusement in her eyes. And in that moment, he did not care what the cost would be when it came, only that Helen was at his side, and she would be his queen,
his wife.

She stepped forward, her chin raised high, and every line of her body filled with the confidence of a woman who knew she was the child of a god. Just as any child of the pharaoh would. As any daughter of Zeus might, though until this night he had never seen her adopt su
ch a pose.

Acamas grinned and knocked on the door, signaling the guards inside to open them. Helen’s eyes widened, and he thought he heard her gasp when she caught her first sight of the megaron in
daylight.

Theseus hid a smile and cleared his throat. “I’m sure it is nothing compared to the pharaoh’
s palace.”

She stared at the walls, covered floor to ceiling by frescoes of the heroic deeds of his youth, flowing together from one section to the next and bound between the twists and turns of a golden labyrinth. On the wall straight ahead, a bullring and his team of bull dancers leapt over the charging animal; on the left, his labors along the Isthmus road as he confronted and vanquished the twisted men and creatures at the gates to the Underworld; and to the right behind his throne, at the heart of an intricate maze, his battle against the Minotaur, though by all rights it ought to have been griffin
s instead.

It hadn’t been his idea to have it painted, but Aethra had insisted it would be a reminder to his people that it was by his power that Athens had been freed. More than once it had served to silence a noble who might otherwise have argued with his ruling in a dispute. Everything had a purpose, he supposed, and if the labyrinth of his life had led him to Helen, he could hardly complain of the trials he had suffered alon
g the way.

Pirithous met them at once, breaking Helen’s stare by bowing over her hand. “My lady, you are transformed. Never have I seen anyone so b
eautiful.”

Helen inclined her head, but her eyes lit at his pe
rformance.

“You know Pirithous, of course, king of the Lapiths,” Theseus said, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “And my son, Demophon, prince and heir o
f Athens.”

Demophon bowed, kissing the back of her hand with all Pirithous’s charm and none of the other king’s flirtation. “My lady, might I introduce to you my brother Acamas, prince o
f Athens.”

Acamas stepped forward, frowning to smother his smile, and offered her the Cretan salute.
“My lady.”

“And this is my cousin and one of my advisers, Menestheus,” The
seus said.

“Princess,” he said, bowing low. “All of Athens is honored by your presence, and by the pharaoh
’s favor.”

Helen smiled politely and said nothing, but raised her eyes to meet Theseus’s as if looking for some kind of guidance he knew she didn’t truly need. Her performance was
flawless.

“Thank you, Menestheus,” Theseus said. “On behalf of the
princess.”

Before anyone else could approach, Theseus guided her around the great round hearth to the table set before his throne. The gallery above was filled to bursting with men, women, and children, all eager for a glimpse of their new queen. It was a compromise to Menestheus to allow them. Not that he begrudged his people the right to see her crowned, but after these months together, the idea that Mycenae or Sparta might come to reclaim her brought him too much pain, and every man or woman who saw her risked recognition. This wife, he mean
t to keep.

“I’m sure you’re hungry after your journey,” he said, more for the benefit of the others than hers. “Some wine,
perhaps?”

He seated her and poured the wine himself, offering the first drops to the gods, though he had already offered a true libation when he had arrived with the slave earlier. He raised his cup, and the conversations in the hall dwindled t
o silence.

“We celebrate today the coming of our bride, Meryet, princess of Egypt, daughter of the pharaoh.” He allowed his gaze to sweep over the men in the hall, taking in their expressions. Most had eyes only for Helen, and for that he could not b
lame them.

He nodded to Aethra, who stepped forward with a cloth bundle in her hands. Theseus unwrapped it, lifting up the circlet of braided gold, a single emerald nestled within the overlapping threads. He’d sent all the way to Troy for the jewel, but when he placed it on her head, he thought the wait well
worth it.

“With this crown, we make you our wife and queen o
f Athens.”

Moisture dampened her eyes, and she touched the circlet on her brow, her fingers brushing across the gemstone. Helen met his gaze and rose from her seat before falling gracefully into the
henu
that never failed to impress him. He could have sworn he even heard the barest click of the gold band against the stone tile of
the floor.

“My king honors me,” she said in halting Achaean. “T
hank you.”

“To the new queen!” Demophon called out, raising his cup. “May the gods smile upon her and rain blessings down upon
our city.”

“To the queen!” the others answered. “To the king
’s bride!”

Theseus offered his hand and helped her to her feet. Her eyes matched the stone on her forehead, bright
with joy.

She lifted her cup and offered the most brilliant of smiles, turning to the nobles who filled his hall. “To
the king!”

When they had offered Theseus their salute, she drank as well, and they both retook their seats with the cheers of his people ringing in t
heir ears.

Because Helen pretended ignorance of the language, Theseus’s greatest challenge was reminding himself not to speak with her as he would have if they had been alone. Demophon and Acamas sat beside her at the table, engaging with her in stumbling Egyptian, but he did not remember enough of the tongue himself for even that much, and having her beside him in his hall at last, without the pleasure of telling her its history, was almost worse than not having h
er at all.

“Stop glowering at your sons, Theseus,” Pirithous said, halfway through the meal. “The last thing your people need is to fear their new queen will be another
Phaedra.”

Theseus ground his teeth, transferring his glower to Pirithous instead. “This is my wedding day, Pirithous. Can you not watch your tongue for this one
evening?”

His friend smiled. “Shall I make it my gift to you? I thought you might prefer something made of gold, or perhaps a sacrifice to the gods for the health and happiness of yo
ur bride.”

“Gift me with whatever you like. As long as you don’t mention my ill luck, I will be content.” He poured more wine and forced himself not to show his jealousy that Demophon and Helen were laughing together over some Egyptian joke. His son spoke the language easily after hi
s journey.

“Perhaps a distraction, then.” Pirithous reached for mo
re grapes.

Bowls of fruit, nuts, and bread, dishes of olives, platters of roasted wild boar, and plates of honeycomb covered the tables in quantities that would serve twice the number present, though Pirithous seemed determined to make up for the lack of guests, his appetite as hearty as ever. “The pharaoh bid me give you a message from his god, and since I do not expect anyone will see you for days once you take your bride to bed, now seems the best time to de
liver it.”

“From
his god?”

Pirithous nodded, and though he smiled, lines had formed around his eyes. “It was by the order of Amun-Ra, their highest god, that the pharaoh agreed to this marriag
e at all.”

“And his
message?”

“Amun-Ra has taken interest in the affairs of your bride, as he does all those who are troubled. He says that if her future comes to find her here, she must be sent into his hands. Egypt will grant her its protection, in the pharaoh’s o
wn house.”

Theseus glanced at Helen, and she turned her smile on him. The emerald of her diadem flashed fire in the lamplight, and her skin glowed bronze. Aethra had outdon
e herself.

“I do not know how he knew, Theseus, but he did. When she spoke of war before, I thought perhaps her fears were unwarranted, just a woman’s worry over men’s affairs. But if the Egyptian gods concern themsel
ves . . .”

“Only fools do not listen when the gods speak,” These
us agreed.

“What wil
l you do?”

He shook his head. “Keep her hidden and safe as best as I can. Listen, if she dreams again. Honor her for as long as she is my wife, and hope what has been done already will be enough to stop what she feared would come.” He swirled the wine in his cup, staring at the ripples that played along the surface. “And I will turn to Egypt if her future, whatever that may mean, seeks her out. But if the pharaoh helps us only at his god’s command, I wonder what reception we will
be given.”

“A warm one,” Pirithous said. “From the moment Amun-Ra showed his favor, Demophon and I were given a most royal welcome. The pharaoh took us into his palace, gave us skilled women for our pleasure, and showered us with gifts of every kind. Your son has a strong start on a treasury of his own thanks to the pharaoh’s kindness. The hold was stuffed so full of guest-gifts, we hardly had any need
to raid.”

Theseus nodded, but when he looked down the table, Demophon was absent and Acamas had taken his place. A quick survey of the room showed his son moving among those seated at the tables below, slapping the backs of the men he had fought with and speaking to the older nobles who had stayed behind. Menestheus watched him sourly, jealous no doubt. Demophon had become a favorite of the Athenian nobles even before he’d proven himself on this journey. But that was as it should be, and Menestheus knew better than to hope for anyt
hing else.

“How many w
ere lost?”

Pirithous shrugged. “A handful in all, a couple to wounds that Apollo did not see fit to heal and a few in battle who were too eager for booty to keep to the line. None of any importance or real skill. You should be proud of Demophon. Had I not known who stood at my side, I would have thought he was you, the way h
e fought.”

Theseus grunted, drinking his wine and waving to a servant for more water. “Let us hope he was gifted with all my strength and none of my youthful foo
lishness.”

“You’re too hard on yourself, Theseus. The bards will sing of you long after you’ve gone to Hades for what you did as a young man alone. How is that anything to be as
hamed of?”

“I had my father’s favor then, or I would have died a hundred times over. Poseidon does not take such a personal interest in
Demophon.”

“He took enough interest to see him delivered back from Egypt with only the barest of scratches. You worry too much, my friend. You raised a fine boy into a finer man, and when you are gone, he will be a great king. Certainly those who sailed with us found much to admire in him, and those who heeded him always returned to the ship without meeting any real harm. You could make him a leader of the host now, and no one woul
d object.”

Theseus shook his head. Helen’s haunted eyes, when she told him the story of her nightmares, rose in his mind. He had practically heard the swords clashing and the screams of the dying when she spoke. It would be a bloodbath if it came, and little honor in it. That was not the legacy he wished to leave his son. And there was still Zeus’s price t
o be paid.

“With what might come, I don’t dare. Not until we know for certain what the futu
re holds.”