HELEN: The Wine Dark Sea

Helen hugged her knees. "Now that she's decided she loves to ride, we'll have adventures of our own while you're away."

He left her bed and stretched. "Perhaps by the time I return, you'll be in a mood to offer an affectionate welcome."

She watched as he wrapped a finely woven crimson kilt around his hips. He was trim and fit, with the same muscular build he'd had when they'd wed. She doubted he'd ever run to fat as less active men did, but his appearance had never posed a problem. She let him leave her chamber without offering any hope that she would regard him differently upon his return. The hurt simply ran too deep. Too awake to go back to sleep, she gazed out the window. It would be another glorious warm day, perfect for riding, or even making perfume. She made a mental list of all that needed to be done, but didn't leave her bed until she had to.

* * *

The roast boar had tasted even better than Paris had expected. The feast had lasted long into the night, and the wine had flowed freely. Everyone there accepted him as a prince, and didn't observe him closely as though hoping he'd reveal himself to be a fool. He hadn't noticed when Menelaus had left the megaron, one moment he was there, and another he was not. Paris had stood and gone to bed, weaving a bit on the way down the corridor. He didn't awaken until mid-day, and couldn't believe Menelaus was gone.

He found Helen seated in the courtyard with her maid, Hermione and an older woman who was too elegantly dressed to be mistaken for a servant. "Good day, my queen. Is it true Menelaus has sailed for Crete?"

"He didn't tell you?" Helen asked.

She looked surprised, and while he doubted the subject had been mentioned last night, he wasn't completely certain. "No, I didn't know. Does he expect me to wait here for his return, or leave for Troy so soon after my arrival?"

Helen brushed a flying curl from her eyes. "You're our guest, Alexandros, please remain with us as long as you wish."

He didn't want to ever leave her. "Thank you." As far as he knew, men didn't sit with women during the day, and he left them with a determined stride as though he had somewhere to be. He went out through the gate and walked to the vineyard where he could sit on a bench and puzzle out what to do. He had such little experience with women, other than his own dear mother and Oenone, he had few resources upon which to draw. He possessed such a powerful secret, and he longed for the chance to share it with the woman he adored. Now that Menelaus had gone away, he hoped one would soon present itself.

* * *

Helen possessed too restless a nature to lie sleepless upon her bed, and she went up to the roof terrace to search for the peace that eluded her during the day. She drew her cloak over her shoulders and leaned against the railing near a large vase with a blooming rose tree. It's heady perfume filled the cool night air, and she was content to study the panoply of stars overhead. It was late, the household still, and when she heard someone on the stairs, she slipped into the shadows rather than greet them.

Unable to sleep, Paris had sought the stars as a reminder of home. Looking up, he saw fireflies flitting through the sky competing with the stars' brightness. There was a faint scent of Helen's perfume on the night air, and he hoped she was still there. "Helen?"

She recognized his voice and stepped into a ray of moonlight. "Did you not have enough to eat, or is your bed not comfortable?" she asked.

"The meals served here are splendid in every respect, and my bed is the most comfortable I've ever slept upon. I merely wanted to gaze at the stars and think of home."

She returned to the railing. "Is there someone you miss?"

He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. "No, there's no one. I have a story you may not believe, but it's the truth and really happened."

His touch was pleasant, but she withdrew her hand rather than rest it in his. "I love a good story. Please begin."

He leaned against the rail so their shoulders would touch. "While I was born a prince, I was raised by a herdsman and spent many hours watching our cattle graze. One day a bolt of lightning pierced the sky, and as I looked up, the gods' messenger Hermes, and behind him, I was amazed to see Hera, Athena and Aphrodite floating down from Mt. Olympus. They'd come to ask me to choose the most beautiful goddess among them."

Helen turned toward him. "Are you sure this wasn't a dream?"

"I knew people would doubt me, so you're the first person I've told. I assure you it was real, not a fabulous daydream. With her golden hair, Aphrodite looks very much like you. Hera and Athena also offered bribes, but Aphrodite promised to give me the most beautiful woman in the world if I chose her."

Helen's voice was a soft whisper. "And did you?"

"Yes, and I've come to Sparta to find you."

She watched the sparkling fireflies and remained silent a long moment. "Wait, there has to be more to your story. Why would King Priam send a son to be raised by a herdsman?"

He'd hoped she'd be enchanted by his talk of goddesses, but now feared she needed to know so much more. He didn't want to say too much and spoil what might be his only chance to impress her. "Does is really matter?"

"Yes, I want to know why a prince wouldn't be raised by his royal parents."

"There was talk of a curse, which clearly isn't true." He told her about his fighting bull and how it had led him to Troy. He explained how he'd been reunited with his royal parents, but didn't reveal the depth of his brothers' hatred for him. "I'm a prince now as I was born to be, and I love you."

His heartfelt declaration sounded all too familiar, and yet still touched her. "I saw Zeus once as a child, and he didn't mention your name."

"Did he tell you whom he'd chosen to be your husband?"

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