As Helen’s story launches those thousand ships, I felt it was most appropriate and authentic to maintain that element of living divinity in Helen of Sparta, so it seemed fitting, too, to allow Theseus to have a more personal relationship with his patroness, Athena, and a recognition of Poseidon and Zeus as forces in his and Helen’s world. I wanted to write a book that stayed true to history as the ancient Greeks—from Homer to Herodotus, the father of history—might have perceived it, while at the same time balancing the more definitive evidence uncovered in the modern historical record.
And that historical record is fascinating, all on its own. As I discussed briefly in the foreword, the archaeological evidence is rich and complex, but the scholarship (until relatively recent times) has also been plagued by bias. Heinrich Schliemann, the excavator of the Bronze Age sites of Mycenae and Tiryns, and what we now presume to be Troy, did his work before archaeology had developed as an academic and professional field of study. Methods of excavation were haphazard, and often more destructive than constructive to the gathering of historical evidence—perhaps even more accurately described as looting, at times. In addition, Schliemann and, later, Arthur Evans at Knossos in Crete, seemed intent upon finding proof of legend, and therefore interpreted their findings to match their assumptions, rather than reshaping their conclusions to match their discoveries. As a result, early scholarship on Troy and Mycenaean Greece, built from their records and findings, was all blurred through a Homeric lens at best, and in the case of Crete, even fabricated at worst.
But today, the continued research and scholarship by academics such as Dr. Dimitri Nakassis have begun to reinterpret the old data while gathering new without these kinds of issues and biases. The Linear B tablets found at Pylos have offered a wealth of information in regard to the structure and organization of the palace centers in Mycenaean Greece, offering glimpses of the people who lived and worked within these societies through inventories and assignations of labor or resources. Smiths, shepherds, farmers, soldiers, landowners—the array of titles and names, according to Dr. Nakassis, suggests an even greater complexity and organization than previously believed, and while Helen and Theseus would have belonged to the highest tier of that structured life, there is the suggestion of professional men and local elites existing outside of the palace. Surrounding Theseus (and Tyndareus, and Agamemnon), there were nobles—these potential local elites—who had land and influence of their own.
And this interpretation of data also melds neatly with the ideas expressed by M. I. Finley in The World of Odysseus, which, through the examination of Homeric texts, offers insights into the society of the Greek Dark Ages. This possible continuity influenced my interpretations of Helen and Theseus’s world—one in which a man was not king only because he was born a prince, but also required the goodwill and consensus of the local elites he might have ruled over. Perhaps that goodwill came from the perceived blessing of the gods, or some proven ability in battle, or able administration, wide travel, and accrual of wisdom, or even through marriage to a particularly important and valuable daughter. Perhaps it came from all of these elements and more. That isn’t something we can know, but it’s absolutely something we can explore in fiction.
There are some small historical elements I’m guilty of fudging through this same kind of elision and blending of periods, without the scholarship of academics to back me up. Citrus, for one, and sweet citrus in particular, were absolutely not in cultivation in Greece during Helen’s time; but because there is so much evidence for trade and wide travel both in the archaeological record and in the existing mythology, particularly Homer’s Odyssey, including the possibility of silk worn by Odysseus himself, I thought it not impossible to include citrus, as well as cultivated strawberries, as a traded specialty item, brought to Athens or Sparta at great expense for a special gift or occasion (like winning the favor of the most beautiful woman in all the world). By that same token, I included silk garments as a luxury that Athens might have had access to, as a city with wider influence and trade, as well as green-dyed fabrics, the double-dipping process for which does not seem to have been discovered yet in Greece during Helen’s time.
Also, the shapes and characters of the gods themselves are inspired by Homer and projected backward in time with a few nods to the possibility of goddess worship and mystery cults. The myths surrounding the Trojan War and Theseus’s own stories have set these more familiar ideas of the gods in our collective cultural mind, and inform so much of the narrative, it would have disrupted too much of the myth to reconcile them to what little we know of Mycenaean ideas. There are some mentions of the gods in the Linear B tablets (Poseidon the Earth-Shaker, Persephone/Kore, Demeter, and Dionysus, for example), but the information we have regarding worship is scarce. A few Minoan and Mycenaean images of women seated on thrones in what might have been the megaron, receiving offerings and honors, seem to indicate the role of women might have been critical, though we can’t say for certain, and that interpretation is still hotly debated. I tried to include this by giving Sparta and Athens slightly different traditions in regard to the queen’s role in prayer for divine intercession, and also in the story Pirithous tells Helen about Ariadne of Crete, and her association with the Labyrinth.
Concerning the other myths involved, I found it necessary to shrink the age gap between Helen and Theseus by maturing her character from a girl between the ages of seven and eleven (there is no consensus) to one of marriageable age with more adult sensibilities at thirteen, and fourteen when she meets our hero. Giving Theseus the benefit of the doubt, and assuming he accomplished his heroic feats upon the Isthmus road and at Crete as a true youth, his age of forty-eight in this story fits his mythology fairly well.
I also modified slightly the story of Helen’s conception. Instead of the four children of Leda being hatched from two eggs (a result of Zeus’s appearance as a swan), I separated their births into two sets of twins, Pollux and Castor first, and several years later, Helen and Clytemnestra. In part, this was to allow for the natural narrative of Helen’s rescue and return to Sparta by her brothers—who could not possibly have accomplished half of what is attributed to them, even after I aged all four siblings up by several years—and in part because there is absolutely no agreement whatsoever as to the birth order or pairing of Helen and her siblings in or out of their eggs. Further, that Leda might have been duped once, and infuriated by it, then been punished by Zeus for not seeing his imposition as an honor seemed more reasonable to me than willing relations with a swan, no matter how beautiful that swan might have been. And contrasted against Aethra’s experience with Poseidon, at Theseus’s conception, it offers both women a role more complex than “passive victim.” Leda and Aethra both deserved that much.
One last element I wanted to address is the false alliance between Egypt and Athens. Egypt rarely mixed its royal blood outside of its borders (or even married its heirs outside its own bloodline), preferring to keep ties strong and remove any potential rivals to the throne from external powers. However, there is some evidence for a marriage alliance between Egypt and Crete during the Bronze Age. Again, working under the assumption of the possibility of trade and travel, and mixing it with the reputation of Theseus as a powerful king during his time, as well as later mythology involving Helen and Egypt, it did not seem quite so far-fetched an idea that Egypt might be willing to accommodate the king of Athens if he desired to execute such a ruse. Egyptologists may feel free to disagree!
Writing Helen of Sparta felt to me like an archaeological dig through myth and history, and I sought to represent her story as faithfully as that reconciliation allowed. But it wouldn’t be myth or history if there weren’t multiple interpretations and constant debate surrounding the conclusions reached—mine provide just one very small thread in the tapestry of our shared cultural history. But I do hope you found it as satisfying to read as I did to weave.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Phot
o © 2012 Thomas G. Hale
Amalia Carosella began as a biology major before taking Latin and falling in love with old heroes and older gods. After that, she couldn’t stop writing about them, with the occasional break for more contemporary subjects. She graduated with a BA in classical studies as well as English from the University of North Dakota. A former bookseller and avid reader, she is fascinated by the Age of Heroes and Bronze Age Greece, though anything Viking Age or earlier is likely to capture her attention. She maintains a blog relating to classical mythology and the Bronze Age at www.amaliacarosella.com, and can also be found writing fantasy under the name Amalia Dillin, at www.amaliadillin.com. Today, she lives with her husband in Upstate New York, and dreams of the day she will own goats (and maybe even a horse, too).
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