Helen of Sparta (30 page)

It was not until much later that I realized what Poseidon had promised me. The lives of Theseus and our child would be spared, yes, provided that Theseus himse
lf agreed.

But surely there was no reason he
would not?

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

I
took offerings daily to Aphrodite and Hera for Theseus’s sake, and to reassure his people. A queen should never be seen to slight the gods, no matter what I felt in my heart, and more than one king had lost his throne when the people believed the gods had cursed him. I had already angered Poseidon, though he had promised his protection. It would not do to offend the goddesses as well, much as I might dislike hono
ring them.

“You should rest,” Theseus told me after I returned and we were alone together in his room for th
e evening.

He had spent the day with Demophon and Menestheus, counting ears of wheat and amphorae of olive oil. The musty smell of the storerooms still clung to his tunic, making me sneeze. He stripped it off at once and tossed it away before coming back to me i
n the bed.

“And if I’m not tired?” I propped myself up on an elbow, running my fingers through the fine hairs on
his chest.

I may not have had the favor of Aphrodite, but watching him stretch out beside me, all bronze skin and muscle, had a predictable effect on my desires. Theseus had not asked what had passed in the grove, and I did not tell him, but I made certain he knew Poseidon had not touched me. If he came later, it would go poorly for us both, but as long as Theseus lived by my side, I would not fear it. Poseidon was not Zeus, to treat his son in such a way, even if he had no lo
ve for me.

The rumble of a chuckle rose from his chest to his throat. He caught my hand and kisse
d my palm.

“You should rest,” he said again, meeting my eyes. “For the sake of the baby in your womb. We need not tempt the gods, and all it might take i
s a fall.”

I sighed, rolling away to stare at the ceiling. He had repainted it with stars, when I had described my bedroom in Sparta, in the first days after I had come. But these were made of gold hammered into the thinnest sheets, and the play of light from the hearth fire gave them the illusion of
twinkling.

“You worry still, and overmuch. Poseidon protects us, even if the goddesses will not. Whatever slight Aphrodite believes we have done her, it will not be solved with sacrifice. Aethra even
says so.”

He stroked my hair from my face. “Perhaps it is best if you stopped going to the temples so often, now that you are so heavy wi
th child.”

“And what will I do then? You will not let me sit with you in judgment, either. All I do is lie in bed when I am not on my knees. I am going mad,
Theseus.”

“Let me open the queen’s megaron, and you may choose any of the women you’d like to join you while I cannot be by your side. Surely the company will keep any madness away, and I will know you are c
ared for.”

“Surrounded by servants, you mean, waiting to sprint off to find you if I so much as twitch in di
scomfort.”

“Would you deny me that small reassurance?” His hand found my waist, cupping the swell of my stomach. “Perhaps Menestheus’s sister would join you, and I am certain Aethra could find other women, wives of the nobles, who would be honored to be chosen to sit with the
ir queen.”

Menestheus’s sister was the last woman I wished to be near. Since that day he had found me in the megaron, I had seen the way he looked at me while I sat at Theseus’s side, eyes narrowed and lingering. I had no doubt every action, every beat of my heart would find its way to Menestheus’s ears if I took up the company of his sister, or any others. I would have to be Egyptian from dawn until dusk, never Helen, never myself, and I had already given him one reason for suspicion. It would endanger Theseus more to be so on display, and if I faltered and Menelaus heard o
f it . . .

I shook my head, covering his hand on my stomach with my own. “If you will give me a loom and yarn, weaving will keep me occupied well enough here.” I forced myself to smile at him. “Will
that do?”

He leaned down and kissed my
forehead.

“If it will please you and allow you to rest, I’ll have it done
tomorrow.”

Theseus lay back beside me, and I fit myself against his body, resting my head on his shoulder. I thought of the nights I had spent in Sparta, weaving when I could not sleep, and how the work had always calmed me. It had been a long time since I had used a loom. Aethra had always supplied me with so much fabric, and so many new gowns, I had never asked for a loom to be placed in the queen’s room. And Theseus had dist
racted me.

I trailed my fingers over the scars on his chest, then rose and kissed each one. Beneath me, These
us sighed.

“Helen,” he pleaded, “that is not what I meant
by rest.”

But it was not long before his lips were too busy
to object.

The following morning when I returned from my bath, a loom stood against the wall, the warp already threaded and weighted to the floor. A basket of yarn in every color I could want sat on a stool beside it
, waiting.

Theseus did not return until evening, and from the sweet smell of his tunic and the blood beneath his nails, he had spent his day making offerings to the gods. I did not ask, and he did not tell me, but it would not be the last time he left m
e to pray.

We ate lamb stew, cold and hot, and lamb steaks, legs, and every other cut, seasoned in every way imaginable, sometimes with herbs I could not name. Theseus offered so many of the poor beasts to Hera, Aphrodite, Artemis, and Zeus, I wondered that there could be any left in the city. Still the months passed, and Aethra brought me lamb-stuffed breads in the morning and roasted lamb for the evening meal, while Theseus spent his days upon
his knees.

I began to weave, planning a family scene as a counterpoint to so much gloom. The lands of Athens would be in the background, framed with olive leaves. It would not be a large work, more a wall hanging than anything else, and it would take considerable skill, for I meant to make the figures in our likeness, but it would keep my mind off the things I could do noth
ing about.

“I’ve never seen a woman so heavy with child so determined to stay on her feet,” Theseus teased me one evening, watching me from the bed while I shuttled the last of the blue yarn through the warp fo
r the sky.

“If every woman had a husband as kind as you to rub her feet, she wouldn’t mind being on them nearly so much,” I said, smiling over my
shoulder.

“Is that so?” He rose and came to stand behind me, studying my work. “You’ve even put clouds in
the sky.”

“Mmm.” I stepped back to look at it from the circle of his arms. The light from the hearth didn’t do it justice. “I needed to stretch the blue, for there was not much of it, but I think it will do. Of course, I will probably need more of the whi
te later.”

“If I had known you enjoyed weaving so much, I would have given you a loom long before now. All those months you were locked away, why did you not ask
for one?”

I leaned against his chest. “You had done so much for me
already.”

“Not enough.” He kissed me behind my ear. “And so I pay my debt by seeing to your swollen feet. Will you come willingly to bed now that you can barely tell the colors of your yarn apart, or must I take you
by force?”

He swung me up into his arms before I could answer, and I laughed, curling an arm around
his neck.

“Tomorrow, Demophon will see to Athens, and you and I will spend the day in any way you desire,” he said. “I only wish I could give you some greater gift for your birthday. A feast day for all of Athens to celebrate with us, perhaps. But I’m afraid it would be too great a coincidence for anyone to overlook if word got back t
o Sparta.”

“You remembered,” I said, blinking back tears. With as often as he had been gone, I had expected more of
the same.

“How could I forget the day we first met, or the reason for it?” He laid me down on the bed, kissing the tears from my cheeks. “Aethra said she will prepare you a meal of anything you wish. You have only to wh
isper it.”

“Anything but lamb.” I pulled him down.
“Please!”

Theseus laughed and lay beside me. “Nothing else
but that?”

“Perhaps some dolmades, if she would be so kind.” Aethra’s stuffed grape leaves were the best I had ever tasted. Even when she
used lamb.

“Wouldn’t you like some of your strawberries?”
he asked.

“It isn’t nice to tease me with things I can’t have.” I frowned. “You’ll hardly let me wander around the countryside looking
for them.”

“Why stray so far afield when they’re growing in th
e garden?”

I sat up as quickly as my body would allow, which was not very, and stared at him. He wore the smuggest smile I had ever seen on his face, and his ocean blue eyes seemed lit by the sun of his humor, even in the dim light. It had been a long time since I had seen him s
o pleased.

“Is it true?” I heard myself beg but could not stop it. “Tell
me it is!”

He chuckled and pulled me back down, tucking my head beneath his chin. “I had to send to Troy, and the plants and seeds cost me a goodly sum in gold and copper, but I thought perhaps it would be worth the price if it brought
you joy.”

“I haven’t had them in years,” I sighed, letting him soothe me. “Is there fruit on the vine
s? Truly?”

“I wouldn’t have mentioned it if there were not. The merchant who brought them back said they came all the way from Elam. Where on earth could you have found a taste
for them?”

“Once Pollux and Castor took me hunting, and we stumbled across a plant. I went back a hundred times, but I never found another, and I have been starving for the taste ev
er since.”

Theseus smoothed my hair, smiling, and kissed the top of my head. “I’m glad you are
pleased.”

“I could only be more pleased if you had a basket of them beside the bed at this very moment,” I said with a yawn. “Tomorrow for the morning mea
l, maybe?”

“First thing,” he agreed. “Rest now, my beloved. May the gods give you peacefu
l dreams.”

“Meryet,” I said, only half-awake. Somehow when Theseus wished me to sleep, I never had any trouble finding exhaustion. “That’s what it means.
Beloved.”

He chuckled again, and then his heartbeat, steady as waves against the shore, lulled me i
nto sleep.

True to his word, a bowl of strawberries greeted me in the morning. Theseus fed them to me, and they were as sweet and refreshing as I had remembered, with just a hint of tartness on the tongue. I groaned my contentment with every bite, and Theseus laughed, clearly satisfied with himself for devising su
ch a gift.

After our morning meal, he took me to the sheltered garden where he had planted the berries, so I might find them to pick more on my own if
I wished.