HELEN: The Wine Dark Sea

"He said it would save everyone the expense and effort to vie for my hand if I chose now."

"Fool! He guards his wealth well and it increases each year, but he should not have approached the topic of the competition with you. I'll speak to him on his next visit."

"He may not return."

Her voice was soft, tinged with sorrow, and he set her on her feet and stood beside her. "He'll return until he has not a horse left to ride, and then he'll walk, but he'll be here again soon. I promise you."

She gazed up a

t him, her doubt clear in her troubled frown. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because I'd have done anything for a moment or two with your mother. Fortunately, she was inclined in my favor even before I won the competition for her hand. I'm grateful every day for her love."

"You forgave her for being with Zeus?"

He took her hand as they strolled into the courtyard. "There's nothing to forgive. The gods do with us what they wish. Zeus adores beautiful women, and your mother is one of the loveliest ever born."

They parted and wanting only to be alone to think, Helen ran from the courtyard into the almond grove and wandered among the pink flowered trees. The handsome man she'd met so long ago may have merely been quick on his feet rather than Zeus, who could appear and disappear as he pleased. She was troubled by the thought she might be a god's daughter. It was another worry atop many, and she promptly forgot Menelaus's bruised feelings.

* * *

Aethra dined with Leda and Helen in the portion of the palace reserved for women. She offered advice each time she swallowed. "You'd be wise to wed a poet, who'd remain home and entertain you with his poetry, lyre and songs. Warriors forever seek a new challenging enemy, and no woman looks forward to bidding her husband farewell without any real hope he'll return alive."

"Do poets enter contests of strength and endurance?" Helen asked.

"Some must at Delphi, Apollo's shrine, I suppose, and you'll know where such a man lays his head each night," Aethra assured her.

Helen glanced toward her mother, who was hiding a smile. "Would father welcome a poet to the family?" she asked.

Leda shook her head and paused to sip her wine before answering. "No, he wants someone strong enough to defend you should the need arise."

"Arise again," Helen emphasized. "Although I suppose I'd not be abducted from a renowned warrior's palace. Who would dare?"

"Certainly not," Aethra admitted, "but you must remember he'll seldom be home. Men are born wanderers, lured by their lust for gold and the scent of fresh blood to seek fame and glory wherever it exists, or wherever they might create it. Poets make the best husbands because they remain home and stay alive."

"You're speaking from experience?" Helen asked before Leda could hush her.

"No, Ageus was a warrior king just as Theseus is today, but they are a poor topic for conversation in this house."

"Indeed," Leda agreed. "These almond filled figs are especially fine this evening."

"A fig is a fig," Aethra announced, and Helen was inclined to agree.

* * *

Tyndareus sent heralds to announce a competition with Helen as the prize, and the word circulated quickly among unmarried noblemen throughout Greece. Some were daunted by descriptions of her beauty, while more were drawn to the palace of the Spartan king to gain a glimpse of her. The young men boasted of their talents in games and battles, but few other than Diomedes, the king of Argos, had any recent victories to celebrate. Odysseus was admired, and his fiery red hair made him a colorful contender.

Helen stood beside her father as he welcomed men to their palace, but one face soon blurred into another. They were a handsome lot, young, muscular and fit, but her cheeks ached with the tiresome effort to smile. When the last man had been introduced, and Menelaus had not appeared, she felt an unaccustomed pang of sorrow.

"What's wrong, child?" Tyndareus whispered.

"Menelaus isn't here. Not that I had any favorites, but he appeared to be so eager, and now he's stayed away."

"His brother Agamemnon is here," he remarked.

"He's Clytemnestra's husband, so he must be here only to observe the sport."

He pulled her hand to his lips. "Shall I send someone to inquire as to Menelaus's health? Perhaps he's fallen ill."