HELEN: The Wine Dark Sea

Helen rushed onto her balcony to scan the harbor and saw a dozen Spartan ships with Sparta's emblem on the sail. "He's brought a few warriors, but not his whole army, so apparently he hasn't planned an assault." She looked over her shoulder. "Your father promised to send away anyone who came for me, but will he actually do so now that Menelaus has arrived?"

"He will," Paris assured her. "He was steadfast in the decision, and you have his protection. Menelaus will return to Sparta, thoroughly humiliated he even made the effort to come here, and we'll not hear from him ever again. Trust me."

She turned back to the sea. "He was my husband, and I don't want him humiliated in any way."

He rested his hands on her shoulders. "You did it yourself, my love, when you left him. He'll sail home on the evening tide, and we'll be done with him."

A chill ran up her spine and made her shiver. "I wish I believed you."

"Are you afraid?" he asked.

She could see it all so clearly now and nothing was going to be as easy as Paris had assumed. Menelaus would not bear shame well, and he'd find a way to make her and all of Troy pay.

* * *

Priam had become devoted to Helen and while he sympathized with Menelaus's despair, he refused to allow him to see her. "She's made her choice," he offered with a sad smile. "She is loved here and has my protection. Return to Sparta, lord king, and forget her. Make another beautiful woman your queen."

Menelaus was so angry he could barely see. He knew the hellish war Agamemnon would soon unleash on Troy, and that gave him an advantage Priam didn't even suspect. He raised his voice, "Helen is rightfully mine, and if beautiful women are in such great supply, then it is Alexandros who should look for another wife. Is he not man enough to face me himself?" He stood with Odysseus beside him, as though anchored in place, and silently dared Priam to move him.

"Even knowing the reason for your visit, I've welcomed you," Priam began, with a weary shake of his head. "I've made the decision to protect Helen, and I'll be the only one you'll see. I assume you'd rather return to your ship than dine with us this evening." He gestured for the armed guards who had escorted the Spartans into the megaron and they came forward to show them the way out.

Odysseus laid his hand on Menelaus's back to steady him, and badly outnumbered, they left without drawing their swords for a fight. Menelaus looked over his shoulder and regarded them all with a deadly glance more threatening than his angry words.

* * *

Late that night, Helen lay awake in Paris's arms. She'd remained on her balcony and had watched Menelaus and Odysseus leave. What courage it must have taken him to stride into the palace when Priam could have so easily ordered his death. Odysseys's skill with a sword was well known, but he'd not have been able to protect himself or Menelaus while the palace guard surrounded them.

Until she'd seen Menelaus walk away, she'd not considered the danger he'd faced in coming for her. His posture had remained proud, but she knew his heart must be broken. His red hair glowed in the sun and for a moment she longed for him to turn so she could gaze upon his face a final time. He didn't glance back to look for her, however, and the chance was lost.

She'd left the sadness surrounding her at Sparta, but every time she saw a little child in the palace, memories of her daughter brought a painful ache to her heart. A tear rolled down her cheek. She'd chosen Paris and Troy after all, and this is where she'd live out her life.

* * *

Agamemnon was not surprised by Menelaus's failure to bring his wife home, and he quickly set about gathering his huge fleet at Aulis. Each king summoned commanded many ships, crewed by warriors eager to fight for gold and glory. Every day more ships sailed into view to rousing cheers, but when all those expected had arrived, the wind abruptly ceased and the fleet remained stranded where they were anchored. Tempers flared, arguments rose at the slightest provocation, and Agamemnon feared the attack on Troy might never take place. Each day he became more frustrated to the point he could bear no more.

Calchas, a priest and seer of great renown, came to Agamemnon with a slow, shuffling step. "My king, a Greek warrior has killed a deer in Artemis's sanctuary, and then dared to brag his hunting skills surpass those of the gods. The goddess of the hunt is so greatly offended she's holding back the wind to punish us all, and stalled the fleet here at Aulis."

"Then we must move swiftly to make a sacrifice to Artemis to ease her rage," Agamemnon responded. "Finally! Something that can be done."

Calchas's gray hair was thinning, and he looked up at Agamemnon with clouded blue eyes. "Only a pure blood sacrifice will appease Artemis," he warned. "You must sacrifice your daughter, Iphigenia, for nothing else will satisfy the goddess."

"But Iphigenia is blameless." Agamemnon staggered back, but caught himself before he fell. "She's a beautiful child who deserves to live a long and blissful life."

The seer shrugged. "The purity of her blood is what Artemis demands, none other will do. Without her sacrifice, there will be no voyage to Troy."

Agamemnon collapsed upon the ground and wept. Night had fallen before he had accepted the awful reality of what he had to do. He called for Odysseus. "Go to my palace and bring Iphigenia to me. Don't allow Clytemnestra to become suspicious. Tell her our daughter is to wed Achilles and to bring her finest clothes."

Puzzled, Odysseus asked for more. "Does Achilles know he's to be wed?"

"There's no need to trouble him. Calchas says I must sacrifice Iphigenia so that Artemis will release the winds, but I don't want her to dread her death. Let her come to Aulis for the happiest of occasions, and she'll die a quick, and I pray a painless death."

Odysseus stared at the troubled king, shocked and heartsick at his request. "Are you certain this is what must be done?"

Agamemnon nodded. "It makes me ill to even think of it, but it must be so."

"Perhaps the wind will be blowing a gale by the time I return with her, and she'll live to reach old age."

"I pray to all the gods it will be so."