HELEN: The Wine Dark Sea

Paris slipped into her room before she could change her mind. "I'll sleep with you here, or you may come to my bed, but tonight we should be together."

His voice was husky with desire, and she melted against him to welcome his kisses. "We should stay here," she whispered. She took his hand and led him to her bed. "For tonight, let's lose ourselves in love and not think at all."

He rolled her long gown over her head and traced her tempting curves with his fingertips. He held her close to press her breasts against his bare chest. "As you wish."

She peeled away his kilt and placed her hands on his chest. His height and handsome muscular build were so easy to appreciate even in the dim starlight slanted through the window. There was no going back now, and she eased him down beside her on the bed.

"There's no rush," she whispered. "We have until dawn."

He wound his fingers in her hair to hold her still for a flood of deep kisses. "Let's make tonight last forever."

She'd expected him to take her in a heated rush, but he spread teasing kisses over her cool skin as though forever had already begun. His adoring touch was light as he explored her body with a patient curiosity that made her tingle inside. He'd proved to be love itself, and she floated in his embrace craving still more. She tipped her hips in a silent invitation, and he responded with a slow deep thrust. It was an ageless dance, and he overwhelmed her with a stunning pleasure. She wrapped him in her arms and sighed into his ear the words of love she hadn't dare speak aloud.

When Paris could draw the breath to move, he sat up and rolled off her bed. "Gather whatever and whomever you want, and we'll leave now. We'll sail with the dawn, and you need never look back. I'll protect you with the royal guard, and we'll find endless joy in Troy."

He was insistent, as though the shared ecstasy of making love had sealed them as husband and wife. He kissed her once again, his taste luscious, and all her doubts fell away. She gave him her hand eager to go.

* * *

When Menelaus returned from Crete, he found the palace servants fleeing ahead of him rather than running to welcome him as joyously as they always had. Helen wasn't in the courtyard, and when he found Omalu in tears clutching Hermione's hand, he feared the very worst.

"What's happened? Where's my queen?"

Omalu bit her lip in a futile attempt to stem her copious tears, but failed. "She's left us, my lord, gone in the middle of the night with Alexandros. She took Aethra and Emalia, and they sailed for Troy."

"She did what!" he shouted, and when Omalu cowered away from him, he ushered her into the palace. He drew Hermione into his arms and gave her a fierce hug. "When did she go, how long has it been?" he asked.

"It was the second night you were away. None of us can believe what's happened, but...."

He nodded and softened his tone. "You needn't say it. I know Helen was deeply disappointed in me, but it's Alexandros who's to blame for this outrage, not her. At least she had the sense to leave my darling Hermione with me." He gave his little girl another loving squeeze.

"What are you going to do?" Omalu asked between tear-filled hiccups.

"I'll go to Troy and bring her home. What else would I do? No one heard her call for help?" he asked, the faint hope she'd been kidnapped lighting his expression.

"No, it was a calm night like any other, but when we awoke the next morning, she was gone. We've talked of nothing else. Had Alexandros tried to take her against her will, she would have fought him with a lioness's strength, and we would have run to her. Nothing in her bedchamber was overturned or out of place. She and Alexandros simply vanished into the night."

Too upset and angry to comment on how they'd snuck away like thieves, he called to a palace guard to send word to ready the army. Heartsick, he left his daughter with Omalu and went upstairs to Helen's bedchamber.

Her wooden clothing chest was empty, and her gold jewelry was missing from her delicately inlaid box. He sat down on her bed and rested his head in his hands. He'd not once thought of Alexandros as dangerous, and felt a fool for leaving him with Helen. Why hadn't he had the sense to take the Trojan to Crete, or send him away before he had left? He'd hoped only to make Helen miss him enough to welcome him again to her bed. It had not crossed his mind how swiftly she'd welcome another.

* * *

Actor stood waiting for Menelaus at the bottom on the stairs. A respected elder, he felt he must offer an opinion. "Sire, as heroic as our Spartan troops are, we are only a few hundred men and not a match for Troy's host of thousands of seasoned warriors."

Menelaus quickly strode past him. "That may be true, but this is a matter of honor I can't ignore."

"Yes, my lord, you must act, but go to your brother, Agamemnon, first. As high king of Greece, he can muster a force to match Troy's. You'll save Sparta's brave men from a needless slaughter and regain your honor."

Menelaus stopped and turned back toward him. After a long moment, he nodded. "You're right, Actor, as you always are." He called to another guard. "Ready my chariot, and I'll ride to Mycenae. My army can ready for war until I return."

The guard banged his sword against his bronze breastplate and ran for the stable.

* * *

Entering the enceinte of Mycenae, Menelaus lashed his high-spirited team and looked up at his brother's hilltop palace fortress. It's massive cyclopean stone walls loomed ahead. Above the massive lintel at the lion's gate was a huge triangular stone with a sculpture of two huge powerfully muscled lions confronting a sacred column. Their golden heads were turned to face any visitor, their jagged-toothed jaws snarling with the might of their powerful king.

The tall gates swung open and twelve of the elite palace guards marched out, each covered from their fierce eyes to their shins in great plates of bronze armor. Their helmets were made of dazzling white rows of wild boar's tusks, an awe-inspiring sight, meant to frighten any visitor. They recognized Menelaus's crest on his chariot, lowered their spears and split into two lines to allow him to pass.