Read Online Helen of Sparta by Amalia Carosella - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Amalia Carosella
Tags: Literary, Historical fiction, Historical, Literature & Fiction, Genre Fiction, Literary Fiction, Mythology & Folk Tales, mythology
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gathered outside the wall.
The temples were not far from the palace, but built upon higher ground to honor the gods. From this height, they could see the gold of Helen’s jewelry flash, almost blinding in its intensity. Goats and sheep grazed on the near side of the settlement, taking advantage of the uneven ground inside the greater city walls as it rose to the temples. A few shepherds, young boys for the most part, sat among them, their crooks resting over their shoulders as they watched the festivities below more than their flocks. Where the animals had not yet cropped the grass, poppies bloomed bright red, and violets in vibrant blues. No doubt the flowers would be trampled before the moon had filled, with so many men trudging back and forth from the temples to secure safe travel back home.
“No,” Theseus said. “Tyndareus would not risk a mob, and that’s surely what he would have if he meant her for Agamemnon, after all of this.”
“Not Agamemnon,” Pirithous said. Theseus had long since stopped wondering how Pirithous obtained such information so quickly; he could talk any man or maid into giving up his or her secrets in the time it took most men to survey a room. “It is Menelaus who seeks Helen’s hand. The servants in the palace say they are much in the company of one another. Menelaus follows her as though she were a bitch in heat and he driven mad to m ount her.”
“Servant gossip. Menelaus and Agamemnon are like sons to Tyndareus. Their frequent visits could have nothing more to do with Helen than the interest of a brother.”
Pirithous snorted. “Do you honestly believe that even Pollux and Castor can look at Helen without their own loins stirring? She’s nearly as alluring as Aphrodite herself.”
“Careful, Pirithous.” Wars had been started over less, and he would not see Helen punished because Pirithous did not guard his tongue. “Aphrodite is not forgiving of such comparisons, and I have no desire to suffer her ra ge again.”
“Nearly, I said.” Pirithous flicked his fingers in dismissal. “And regardless, it’s only the truth. Zeus gifted his daughter great influence and power when he gave her that form, and recognizing the work of the gods as impressive can never be a sin.”
“Can’t it?” Theseus glowered at the ma ss of men.
Agamemnon climbed the steps to the dais, his swagger and the flash of bronze armor impossible to miss. The king of Mycenae bowed to Helen, but Theseus could see even from this distance the coldness in his manner, and Pollux’s expression darkened further with every word exchanged. Helen recoiled from Agamemnon’s touch, pulling her hand free as quickly as possible.
Tyndareus was sure to consult Pollux and Castor about her potential suitors, to ensure the man chosen would be respected and that his daughter would not be mistreated. No, if Agamemnon sought Helen’s hand, even for Menelaus, he was not yet successful, and antagonizing her brother was hardly the way to seal a marriage.
Theseus rubbed at his face and looked for the angle of the sun. It wouldn’t be long now. Perhaps he could impose on Tyndareus’s hospitality just a little further, and secure himself a seat beside Helen at the feast. No king would dare refuse such a modest request fr om a hero.
Father, help me. Uncle, grant me y our favor.
If things went well tonight, he would go to Zeus’s shrine in the morning and thank the gods properly.
Seats were scarce in the megaron, but Theseus had received a place at the family table in exchange for a gift to Leda of the rarest green linen from Troy. The most noble of Tyndareus’s guests had been given places at the tables below, or at worst on the benches that lined the walls, but it did not account for half the men Helen had seen. The gallery above the hearth was filled again with more men, the women and children who might normally watch from above ousted in favor of those who had presented Helen w ith gifts.
She leaned forward,
The temples were not far from the palace, but built upon higher ground to honor the gods. From this height, they could see the gold of Helen’s jewelry flash, almost blinding in its intensity. Goats and sheep grazed on the near side of the settlement, taking advantage of the uneven ground inside the greater city walls as it rose to the temples. A few shepherds, young boys for the most part, sat among them, their crooks resting over their shoulders as they watched the festivities below more than their flocks. Where the animals had not yet cropped the grass, poppies bloomed bright red, and violets in vibrant blues. No doubt the flowers would be trampled before the moon had filled, with so many men trudging back and forth from the temples to secure safe travel back home.
“No,” Theseus said. “Tyndareus would not risk a mob, and that’s surely what he would have if he meant her for Agamemnon, after all of this.”
“Not Agamemnon,” Pirithous said. Theseus had long since stopped wondering how Pirithous obtained such information so quickly; he could talk any man or maid into giving up his or her secrets in the time it took most men to survey a room. “It is Menelaus who seeks Helen’s hand. The servants in the palace say they are much in the company of one another. Menelaus follows her as though she were a bitch in heat and he driven mad to m ount her.”
“Servant gossip. Menelaus and Agamemnon are like sons to Tyndareus. Their frequent visits could have nothing more to do with Helen than the interest of a brother.”
Pirithous snorted. “Do you honestly believe that even Pollux and Castor can look at Helen without their own loins stirring? She’s nearly as alluring as Aphrodite herself.”
“Careful, Pirithous.” Wars had been started over less, and he would not see Helen punished because Pirithous did not guard his tongue. “Aphrodite is not forgiving of such comparisons, and I have no desire to suffer her ra ge again.”
“Nearly, I said.” Pirithous flicked his fingers in dismissal. “And regardless, it’s only the truth. Zeus gifted his daughter great influence and power when he gave her that form, and recognizing the work of the gods as impressive can never be a sin.”
“Can’t it?” Theseus glowered at the ma ss of men.
Agamemnon climbed the steps to the dais, his swagger and the flash of bronze armor impossible to miss. The king of Mycenae bowed to Helen, but Theseus could see even from this distance the coldness in his manner, and Pollux’s expression darkened further with every word exchanged. Helen recoiled from Agamemnon’s touch, pulling her hand free as quickly as possible.
Tyndareus was sure to consult Pollux and Castor about her potential suitors, to ensure the man chosen would be respected and that his daughter would not be mistreated. No, if Agamemnon sought Helen’s hand, even for Menelaus, he was not yet successful, and antagonizing her brother was hardly the way to seal a marriage.
Theseus rubbed at his face and looked for the angle of the sun. It wouldn’t be long now. Perhaps he could impose on Tyndareus’s hospitality just a little further, and secure himself a seat beside Helen at the feast. No king would dare refuse such a modest request fr om a hero.
Father, help me. Uncle, grant me y our favor.
If things went well tonight, he would go to Zeus’s shrine in the morning and thank the gods properly.
Seats were scarce in the megaron, but Theseus had received a place at the family table in exchange for a gift to Leda of the rarest green linen from Troy. The most noble of Tyndareus’s guests had been given places at the tables below, or at worst on the benches that lined the walls, but it did not account for half the men Helen had seen. The gallery above the hearth was filled again with more men, the women and children who might normally watch from above ousted in favor of those who had presented Helen w ith gifts.
She leaned forward,
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