HELEN: The Wine Dark Sea

* * *

Theseus did not appear until late the next morning. He held several changes of women's clothing draped over his arm. Helen stood in the middle of the cold chamber, tightly wrapped in the blanket.

He shivered with the chill. "Was the fire not lit last night?" He laid the clothing on the foot of the bed. "I'll see to it now." He knelt at the brazier and used flint to strike a spark. He blew on the flame until the kindling caught fire.

Had anything been handy to use as a weapon, Helen would have bashed it against his skull rather than stand idly by, but there was nothing useful at all. He was dressed in a fine black tunic and wore a gold necklace and a large gold royal ring. Even if he had taken great pains to look his best, she despised him.

He brushed off his hands as he stood. "Such an oversight will not reoccur. I'll tell what servants can be found here to see to your every comfort, or I'll flog them all myself."

He had expected something in the way of gratitude, even if only a slight nod, but he had seen more cheer in the gaze of a venomous snake. Helen's curly hair floated about her head in wild disarray, and even wrapped in a blanket, she remained as slender as a reed. He studied her a long moment and began to wonder.

"I was entranced by your beauty at my first glimpse of you by the river. I thought you a lovely young woman, but today you appear to be no more than a wild child. What is your age?"

She gathered courage from the tiny woolen warrior hidden in her hand. She lifted her chin proudly. "I'm twelve, and you would be wise to send me home before my father's warriors reach your gates. They are a blood-thirsty lot and will rip you limb from limb for kidnapping and abusing me."

Clearly not frightened, he laughed and took a step closer. When she backed away, he took another step. "Your father may not find you for years, so I'll enjoy you without a worry. My Athenians can defeat any warriors who dare to attack us, as they have many times in the past."

His boast sickened her. "You'll not enjoy the slightest moment with me," she hissed.

"Fortunately, I'm a patient man, and will give you time to grow accustomed to your lot here. The clothing belonged to my late wife. If it doesn't fit, you'll eventually grow into it. If you are in a better mood tomorrow, we'll go for a walk in the sunshine. Wouldn't you enjoy time away from this tiny chamber?"

"Not with you."

"As I said, I'm a patient man, but do not abuse me for it."

She watched him go and a moment later the door again swung open. The kitchen girl entered with a bowl of porridge with numerous lumps, warm bread and another clay kylix of wine. Seeing the pretty clothing on the bed, she looked around for a place to set the tray.

"I could use a table," Helen offered. "Is there one no one is using?" She took the tray from the girl and set it atop the clothes. "You look like a clever girl, I bet you'll soon find one for me."

The girl shrugged, and left, but returned before Helen had finished eating the bread in tiny bites. There was a young man with her, an ungainly youth with the same frizzy hair and large-eyes, and Helen assumed they were brother and sister. He carried in a three-legged wooden table that was as crudely built as the bed.

"Thank you," Helen responded, and he blushed a bright red. "Do you suppose you could find a chair so that I might sit at the table while I eat?"

He sent a frantic glance toward the girl and the pair left in such a hurry they nearly collided at the doorway. They returned with the requested chair, he placed it by the table and stepped back.

Still clad in the blanket, Helen tried the chair and found it fit perfectly with the table. "Thank you again. The stone floor is very cold on my bare feet. Could you find something to serve as a rug?"

The boy lifted his brows, but the girl yanked on his sleeve to lead him out. They were gone a long while, but finally returned with a brown spotted cowhide they unrolled on the plank floor. They looked up, clearly hoping for a word of praise.

"How clever of you," Helen exclaimed. "This will do perfectly. Tell me your names so I can thank you properly."

"E-Emalia," the girl stuttered her name and took her brother's arm. "This is Oron."

Helen found a smile for them. "Thank you, Emalia and Oron. May your kindness be rewarded."

The pair bowed on their way out, and she had to raise her hands to cover a laugh. Her chamber now held a serviceable rug and a table and chair. Although far below her usual standards, it was a great improvement over what she had found upon her arrival, and she turned her attention to the clothing on the bed.

The skirts were of fine wool woven in colorful bands of red and blue, and the boleros were in matching hues. She wrapped a skirt around her waist and had to pull it up high before securing it with the braided cord to avoid tripping on the hem. The boleros were also too large, but offered a welcome covering after a rough blanket on her tender skin.

She moved the chair to the window and stood on it to improve her view, but no troops were gathering in the distance. They would be soon she was sure, and she would happily throw Theseus' severed limbs onto a funeral pyre herself!

* * *

She had been given fine clothes, and she began to wonder what more of Theseus' late wife's belongings could be found. That evening, when Emalia carried in a thick slab of roast pork, conveniently sliced in thin strips so she would not require a knife, she thanked her warmly. "Did you serve the woman who owned these pretty clothes?"

Emalia shook her head. "Oh no, my lady, I've never left the kitchen before yesterday."

"I'd be grateful for a pair of sandals. Do you suppose you might find some in her room? She is dead, after all, and wouldn't miss them."