HELEN: The Wine Dark Sea

"Nor I of you," she responded, but it seemed too simple a phrase. She'd always enjoyed poetry, and thought perhaps she'd compose some of her own.

* * *

When they reached the stable, there were no men waiting to see to their horses. "Where has everyone gone?" Helen asked.

Orthis dismounted to take her mare's reins. "We'll see to your horses, my lady."

"Thank you." She took Paris's hand as they made their way up the hillside to the palace. People were usually out conducting their daily business in the city, but that afternoon they were alone on the path. It wasn't until they had climbed high enough to see the sea that they found a crowd pushing and shoving for a better view of the shore.

Paris caught a glimpse of the dark warships on the horizon and took a firmer grip on Helen's hand. "Let's go on to the palace where everything will be easier to see." Fearing Menelaus must have gathered a vast army ready to fight, his heart thudded wildly in his chest. He didn't care what it cost him, but he would never let Helen go. He guided her up past saluting guards to the citadel, and found his whole family, along with their servants, standing against the crenellated wall watching the approaching fleet.

Helen raised her hand to shade her eyes, but until the leading ships were close enough to make out the markings on the sails, she merely dreaded, rather than knew they carried warriors from Sparta. Terrified, she grabbed Paris's arm and held on tightly. "I see my husband's ships, but there are so many others. Agamemnon must have brought all his Mycenaean allies, all the kings of Greece, but we couldn't have anticipated this, Paris. How could we have known?"

She'd just referred to her husband's ships, and he had to swallow hard rather than shake her to remind her that he was now her husband. He drew her into his arms. Hektor was standing nearby, regarding them with a hate-filled stare, and Paris knew a blistering condemnation was coming.

"Do you see what you've wrought?" Hektor shouted at them. "We'll fight the Greeks on the beach as soon as they land. Do you even own armor?"

"No, but I can use a sword," Paris called to him, feigning more confidence than he truly felt. He'd only practiced with Kastros and Orthis, but with ships stretching as far as the eye could see, there would be so many Greeks running ashore he'd be sure to hit a man with every hard swing of his blade.

Helen grabbed hold of his tunic. "You shouldn't be so eager to fight! The Greeks are battle-hardened warriors and should be feared."

He whispered in her ear, "I'm eager to protect you, beloved." Tears filled her eyes, and he took her hand to lead her into the palace. "You'll be safe here, everyone behind the divine walls will be. The Trojans also live for war. Hektor is our finest warrior, and he'll lead the fight. I'll follow his command, but stay well out of his way so he won't have a chance to strike me."

Helen wiped her eyes on the back of her hand. "He'd do it too, wouldn't he? I can't just sit here and hope you'll come back alive."

"Of course, you can, or stay with the other royal wives."

"What if they blame me?" she murmured under her breath. "Of course, they'll blame me."

"No, I'm the one Hektor condemns, and no one will dare harm you." He drew her close for a near-endless kiss. "Stay close to Priam. He's vowed to protect you. Menelaus should have believed him and remained in Sparta. He's the one who's brought war down on us, not you."

She shook her head. "No one believes that."

"I do," he insisted, and sprinted from her room.

Sickened by the coming tragedy, she lay down on her bed and broke into sobs. They'd hoped for a lifetime together, but they'd only been fools lost in sweet dreams. She cried herself to sleep, but a soft knock at her door awoke her. "Yes?" she called.

Andromache peered into her room. "Why are you weeping? The Trojans are very brave. They're magnificent warriors, who've made Troy proud, and after the Greeks suffer more deaths than they can count, they'll learn their folly and sail for home."

Helen pushed herself up, but felt dizzy, and lay down to rest her head on her outstretched arm. "The Greeks are skilled warriors as well. Too many will die today, and everyday until one side will admit defeat."

"They'll never drive us from Troy," Andromache exclaimed. She came close to sit down on the end of Helen's bed. "Our walls were built by gods, and they can't be breached. You must trust the gods to protect us."

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Clearly, she shared Paris's confidence, but Helen knew the other side too well to believe the war wouldn't last until the last man fell dead from his wounds. "How can men play at war and give up their lives so easily?" she murmured.

"It's what they were born to do," Andromache responded. "Our son cried because he's too young to fight."

Helen thought of Hermione and was grateful to have given birth to a daughter. Her father had battled other kings for territory and whatever spoils of war he could bring home, among them women and slaves. She'd been too young to consider the cost in blood and pain, but none of those wars had involved the thousands of warriors she'd seen approaching today. They'd been mere skirmishes compared to what would surely befall Troy.

Agamemnon had seldom spoken to her, and he wouldn't have been moved to gather such an immense army merely to take her home. He had to want more. Perhaps he intended to rule Troy and the Troad, the land as far as the eye could see. Her brother-in-law was an ambitious man, and now that he'd reached the shores of Troy, she was stunned to think how far he might go.

Had she not fled Sparta with Paris, Agamemnon might never have turned his lust for power upon the people of Troy. She sat up slowly. "Is the city well-stocked with provisions?" she asked.

"Food is always plentiful here, and all our needs are met by the farmers and herdsmen in the surrounding villages. It isn't your place to worry over it anyway. While there is sure to be a dust cloud raised in all the confusion, don't you want to watch what's happening from the main tower?"

Helen closed her eyes and shuddered. "No, war isn't something I want to view, ever."