Read Online Helen of Sparta by Amalia Carosella - Free Book Online

much control over whom she was able to spend time with over the course of the celebration. It was clear by this display that Tyndareus and Leda meant to attract as many suitors as possible, all hoping to claim a seat beside her for a meal. Theseus had already counted at least a dozen other kings and the same number of princes, from Macedon—even farther north than Pirithous’s people lived—to the southern island of Crete. But what preference she might show, he hoped to have won in th is moment.
    “Until tonight, then.” He bo wed again.
    When he left the dais, he felt Helen’s gaze f ollow him.

    Theseus went to the temples while the men still stood in line to give Helen their good wishes for her birthday. He could not watch them fawn over her any longer once he had seen her fed and offered her wine. Each imposition, each ogling eye, made him more and more irritable on her behalf. And he had other respec ts to pay.
    The temple to Poseidon was modestly sized compared to what he had built in Athens, but the stone buildings had been designed in the same style as the palace. Tall columns stood in the entrance, painted with cresting waves and leaping fish from their bases to the roof and leaving the temple open to the sun on one side. Inside, the walls were covered floor to ceiling with horses of every color, stamping, rearing, and charging. Nostrils flared as they tossed their heads, their manes flying in the wind.
    Offerings of hard bread, goat cheese and milk, figs, pomegranates, and wine covered the altar. Theseus knelt before his father, setting a golden trident the length of his arm before the rough clay form of the god, and bowing his head.
    “Father, hear me. Accept this offering in thanks for our safe passage.”
    He rubbed his palms against his thighs, ignoring the seashells digging into his knees. It had been more than a decade since Poseidon had granted him audience or aid, and perhaps he was foolish to look for it now. But what else could he do? He hadn’t meant for any of this to be about marriage, no matter what Pirithous had said. Helen had been more curiosity than anything else, as she was to so many of the other men who had come at Tyndareus’s i nvitation.
    “If she is not meant to be mine, Father, harden my heart. Make me like the ocean, callous and unfeeling. But if I might have her, if this is not too great a prize to ask for, give me your blessing, your protection. Give us both peace, and let it last.”
    He stayed on his knees for a long moment, waiting, listening with all his being. Theseus lifted his gaze to his father’s painted face, but there was no life in the worn features there. No kindly smile or wrathful glower, just the silence he had come to expect. He rose, pausing to kiss the altar, and left the sma ll temple.
    “I should have known you’d be here, bending knee to your father.” Pirithous leaned against one of the pillars, shaded from the sun. “He does you few favors, Theseus. You’d have done better to offer sacrifice to Athena or A phrodite.”
    “Neither Athena nor Aphrodite is my father.” Theseus nodded to the palace below, set behind its walls. Guards walked the tops, wearing leather breastplates, no doubt ready to respond with bow and arrow if the mass of men below became a mob. “Did my servants make room for you?”
    “Oh yes. As always, they were most accommodating.” Pirithous pushed off from the pillar and fell in beside him as he walked back toward the city. As usual, Pirithous had chosen to join his party at the last possible moment. “Helen seemed most impressed by your gift. Though I hear rumors that Agamemnon negotiates with Tyndareus for the hands of both his d aughters.”
    “And if that were true, and Tyndareus decided, what possible purpose could this celebration serve? Why invite so many eligible men to Sparta and wave Helen in front of their faces, only to tell them they may not have her?” Theseus shook his head, staring at the crowd still