Blood of an Empire: Helen of Sparta

by catt dahman

  “Take them all if you can’t decide,” Ajax told Nessie.

  “She’ll get fatter.” Helen laughed. She knew she was being mean to her sister but couldn’t help herself.

  Ajax almost fell on the ground, as he was so surprised that Helen had spoken to them. She was the most beautiful girl in the world, and she was talking of her own free will to the brothers. When she asked him to carry her plate, he almost yelled for everyone at the party to look at what he was allowed to do for her. Both were handsome, almost grown, and watched by every girl at the festival.

  Tuecer groaned and grumbled a little inside but accepted that he would walk with Clytemnestra, one of the most beautiful girls in the world. His pile of meats and pastries out did hers since he had filled a second plate for himself, as well. He knew what it was always to be second since he was second to Ajax.

  Ajax and Tuecer, sons of Telemon, punched one another in the arms and talked loudly, and boasted.

  In a while, Helen disappointed the boys by saying she wanted another helping of the rare veal she liked. Brushing off offers to get it for her, she ran for the tables.

  Halfway there, she stopped and cocked her head. Someone was bringing a new gelding into the barns, a handsome animal, tall and lean muscled, blood red with a glossy black mane and tail.

  As she entered the dark barn, a pain caught her in her right side, making her gasp. Helen had never pulled a muscle before while running and would ask her nurse as soon as Helen had seen the horse what the pain indicated; she was rarely ill or injured.

  “Hello? I’ve come to see the bay. Kalespera.” Frowning, she walked further into the gloom, clutching her side irritably. It hurt. “Hello?”

  “Hello.” A young man peeked out from behind the horse. “Come on and look.” He didn’t know this child but was taken at once by her beauty and innocence. He could smell flowers and mint as she passed him to stroke the horse’s face. “Pos se le'ne?”

  “Helen. Chaíro polý,” she said as she smiled. “Will he race? Do you think he will win?”

  “Nai' to both.” The man watched as his jittery horse calmed under her touch and murmured. She was a pretty child with hair of molten gold and a slender body, not yet taken to curves, but with long, coltish legs and graceful, white arms. He moved next to her and said, “He likes you.”

  “He’s beautiful.”

  “So are you.”

  “You think?” The pain in her stomach gripped her tightly, and her head felt dizzy, as if she had drunk too much unwatered wine. The darkness in the barn seemed to warp itself like a cloying blanket around her. “Is he yours?”

  “No, my Lord’s horse, but I am assigned to tend him,” the man spoke proudly, “and who do you attend?”

  She wasn’t sure what he meant or that she cared. What she cared about for now was her growing cramps and the lovely horse that seemed to watch Helen. “Maybe my father will buy this horse for me.”

  “Or, I could make it a gift to you,” the man teased, “or perhaps we could trade?”

  Helen knew the man couldn’t give away the horse; he was nothing but a servant, but she was curious anyway. “A trade? What would I trade worth this horse?” She felt the man move closer, and his breath was on her neck.

  “A kiss.”

  “That’s all?” Helen giggled and turned to the man and allowed him to kiss her lips. What was this game? “Now the horse is mine?”

  “A real kiss,” said the man as he slid his arms around her waist and kissed her, exploring her mouth.

  She almost giggled again. It tickled. Was this how grown-ups kissed? Was this what came first, before lying with a man? How unimaginative and silly. She felt as if she could hardly breathe, as he covered her mouth with his.

  As he gripped her closer, she frowned as she felt something inside her almost pull and pop, like a pod releasing its seeds into the wind. She felt suddenly damp and sweaty beneath her dress, and the man kissing her irritated her terribly.

  She wanted him to stop.

  When she tried to pull back away from his clutches, he tightened his grip and rubbed his body against hers, kissing her mouth and throat. “I want more for the trade.” He reached to rub her legs, moving up her thigh, and she felt a knot of terror envelop her. Though she struggled, it only fueled his desire.

  She was both afraid and angry.

  He paused as something niggled at his brain, breaking through the lust. Glancing at his hand, he stopped.

  Helen looked.

  Oh, it was her first womanly blood. She was embarrassed and irritated and quite upset that the man was pawing at her. She was about to use her Spartan skills to blacken the man’s eyes and make him scream in pain, but before she could fight him off or think more about her new status as a woman of Sparta, she felt a warmth fill her body. She was power and beauty, and this man was nothing but a slave to the power she held over men as he forgot his rightful place and thought to rape her.

  She was fury. Without over-thinking it, Helen leaned into the man’s embrace, setting his veins alight with passion. He took a shaky breath and let it out in a terrible, painful groan as Helen licked his neck and plunged razor sharp teeth into his neck. She hadn’t imagined she could do this. How was she able to slice into his neck and drain him? What was this?

  “Uh, uh, uh,” he moaned.

  “Yessss,” she whispered, unsure of what she was doing but knowing it felt wonderful to feel his flesh part gently between her teeth and the hot, salty blood, so hot and delicious, and fill her mouth so quickly that she was unable to swallow fast enough, letting some dribble down to ruin her green peplos. Her mind spun lazily with strength and satisfaction she had never imagined, and she gulped at the liquid. This wasn’t sapros but wonderful.

  Like a viper, Helen pushed her teeth farther into the vein, tightly gripping it so the flow filled her throat. The man shivered a little and shook but could not fight her attack, and his motions only made her dig in deeper and suck at the skin greedily. The punctures opened and became ragged as she gnawed in pleasure, wanting every drop and nursing as a babe would.

  When he slumped to the floor and continued to bleed, Helen covered her lips as she belched a little, giggling, despite her shock at her own behavior. While she had been angry that he was trying to take advantage of her, she could have screamed or fought back, and yet, she had bitten his neck until he was bled dry, and then she had swallowed his blood.

  What had happened here, she didn’t know and thought it would take some time to puzzle through, but she also knew that she couldn’t leave this mess as it was, or she would be punished.

  Drinking blood was not a common crime, not even one she had ever heard of before, but she knew it was a terrible, monstrous thing she had done, no matter how enjoyable. She also knew that she must not be caught, or she would be katakrima, or condemned. Thinking quickly, she took the man’s dagger, and with a deep breath, she stabbed violently on his neck until all traces of her feeding were gone; his throat was cut and torn open.

  Yanking at her top, she ripped it down a little and mussed her hair so at least it looked as if she had to fight the man and ran to the doors of the barn, wailing and screaming for help. She would be believed; she was akatagnostos, or beyond reproach.

  The young man, Menestheus, was the closest and recognized that it was Helen calling for help and that she was covered in blood and looked disheveled. He drew his dagger and bravely faced the barn while grabbing for the girl and positioning her behind his back as he faced whatever threat might come. Beast or man, he would protect her.

  Odysseus, and Menestheus’ father, Petos, were close and came running.

  “Teus? What is it? Is Helen hurt? What kakoetheia is this?” Odysseus demanded, eyes searching for the enemy.

  He pointed to the barn doors and said, “She ran from there.” Menestheus allowed his father and the other young man to run into the barn while he knelt and held Helen close, whispering that she was safe and that he would protect her with his lif
e.

  Castor and Pollux, Helen’s brothers, ran over with her father, as did many of the other people from the festival. Dareus knelt close to Helen and asked her, “What happened? Whose blood is this?” He quickly checked her for injuries.

  Helen raised her chin. The tears were real now as she was terrified of being found out, but she pointed. “In the barn, that man…he would have raped me. I grabbed his knife….” She fell into Menestheus’ arms, crying. She didn’t look but heard Castor and Pollux both swear angrily as her father roared his fury. They were intent on tearing the would-be rapist limb by limb and feed his remains to the swine.

  Clytemnestra, and Helen’s nurse, and several other of the ladies gathered Helen into their arms and helped her walk to the house, all weeping and angrily casting glances back to the barns. In a pinch, the Spartan women would gladly render the scoundrel’s flesh from his bones, given the chance.

  After the ladies left, Nurse helped Helen into a hot bath, scented with peppermint and rosemary oil, and she used a sea sponge and grape seed oil to rub Helen’s shoulders before cleaning her with honey and oil, murmuring words meant to sooth and reassure Helen. After she was clean, Helen let Nurse and Nessie explain to her about what to do about her monthly flow; Nessie had started her cycles a few months before.

  Helen awoke later after having napped, warm in her bed, and found her father sitting close to the bed. He took her hand. “Helen, the man who did this will not bother another girl again.”

  “He was terrible.”

  “He isn’t anymore. Castor and Pollux are doing away with his body now, and you have been avenged. However….”

  Helen felt fear tighten about her throat.

  “Everyone is cheering little Helen who, like a Spartan woman, fought her attacker and bested him. You did very well, little one,” he said as he glowed with pride.

  Men and women praised his daughter Helen for her ferocious attack on the man who would have harmed her.

  “He shouldn’t have tried to take advantage of me.” She sniffled, relieved that she wasn’t blamed for being a monster. “I only wanted to see the horse.”

  “That bay belongs to Laertes, father of Odysseus. When you ran away, you must have set your hand against the horse’s flank because you left a red handprint against his red coat. Laertes is embarrassed that his servant tried to do harm to you and thinks your handprint is a sign. He has asked if you will accept the horse as a token of his apology.”

  “Ohhh, May I?”

  Dareus nodded. “I suspect he fears I will be angry that it was his servant, and I could rightly hold him to blame, but I won’t since he could easily best me,” he chuckled as he spoke.

  Helen smiled and said, “Please thank him for the horse. I will name him Polytimos because I will cherish him.”

  “That’s a fine name. I will send your ‘thank you’. Rest, and we shall send you a plate of food.”

  “Thank you, perhaps later.” Helen turned on her side, imagining flying across fields on her new horse, Polytimos, and she was still drowsy and full from her meal of blood. “I’ll eat more later. Right now, I’m too full.”

  She smiled as she slipped back asleep.

  Helen expected her monthly courses and the hunger and thirst of before, but this month, she didn’t bleed, and Nurse said it was that way sometimes when a girl became a woman. More than anything, Helen wished she could ask her own mother questions and understand this oddity.

  It seemed to Helen that after she drank blood, she was far lovelier. Her muscles seemed leaner, her skin cleaner, and eyes brighter. Her hair gleamed and fell thicker about her waist. She considered that this strange thing might make her even more beautiful, and it was also a kind of gift, handed down.

  Not only was she the most beautiful woman on earth, but also she was faster, stronger, and more agile than ever when the hunger was upon her. In fact, at that time, she was like a goddess.

  Helen was a goddess.

  Chapter 3

  A Wedding

  Clytemnestra was to be married.

  Tantalus of Lydia was to be her o si'zigos, and she fluttered and blushed whenever he was around or anyone mentioned his name. She often gazed at him moon-eyed, and when they walked in the gardens, they stared into one another’s eyes dreamily as they held hands. Helen was amazed that her sister was so sweet now and soft-spoken.

  Her father, Tyndareus, agreed to the marriage when the man asked for her hand, and a great wedding was planned. Few planned marriages had such a positive response from both the groom and bride as this one did.

  “Are you not afraid?” Helen asked, kneeling at her sister’s feet.

  Clytemnestra had been bathed, oiled, and perfumed, and now, Nurse was braiding her hair into dozens of little plaits that would be scooped with her shining hair and set into jewel clips. Each braid was oiled and oiled again until it shown like onyx.

  “I’m a little afraid I could disappoint him, but mostly I am excited and, Helen, oh when I picture his dear face in my mind, I almost faint. I love him so. He is so handsome. ”

  Helen thought about that a while. She had not heard of arranged marriages where the bride was so in love with her groom; often, it took years for a couple to learn to live amicably at best. “And does he love you?”

  “Yes, His eyes light up when he sees me, and he grips my hand so tightly. He smiles at me and has the tiniest dimple that shows. Oh, yes, he loves me like I love him. He is my agapao.”

  Helen nodded and rubbed her sister’s sandals more to bring the gold to a high shine. “I am glad, Nessie.”

  “And he brings me such thoughtful gifts.”

  Helen had to agree with that as she had seen the sweet little bottle for perfume, the mirror of polished silver on one side, and on the other side a relief etched of chubby cherubs, frolicking at Aphrodite’s feet. There was a clever tapestry of dolphins, a bolt of fabric, wispy and soft called silk, and earrings made of gold and silver.

  Clytemnestra had also been given other gifts of jewelry, more silver earrings in intricate loops, chains, hair clasps set with precious stones, and a comb set carved from various kinds of wood so that each scented her hair differently.

  He had thoughtfully give Helen a few gifts as well.

  Clytemnestra’s wedding dress was of silk, from a bolt her future husband gave her. It was a soft olive color, capturing the richness of the fruit. A fibula, gold and set with pearls, held her dress on her shoulder, the luminescent pearls bringing out the whiteness of Clytemnestra’s skin. The green of the filmy silk dress made her hair glow.

  With the pearl hair ornaments, Nurse added sage leaves, wound about the tendrils of her dark hair. She had never looked as beautiful, and Helen was almost unnoticed next to the lovely Clytemnestra.

  Once Clytemnestra was dressed, she turned slowly so Helen could look and make sure everything was perfect. In a flash of deep reddish purple silk, Helen grabbed her sister and hugged her. “You are beautiful, Nessie. Tell me how it feels.”

  “How what feels?”

  “Love.”

  “As if my heart will burst from happiness, and I want to cry and laugh at the same time. My stomach flips over with butterflies when he enters the room, and I think he’s the most handsome man on earth. I could gaze at him for an eternity, and it wouldn’t be enough. He makes me feel desired and cherished,” said Clytemnestra as blushed prettily.

  “I want that, too.”

  “Should I have worn my hair a different way, Helen?”

  “It’s perfect. Nessie, are you nervous about the wedding night?”

  “Nurse explained it to me, but, yes, a little. I’ll be a real woman then; I’m excited…but…nervous. I know he’ll be a patient lover and tender. I just don’t want to disappoint him.”

  “He won’t be. He’ll be nervous too with such a pretty bride,” Helen promised.

  Clytemnestra and Tantalus were wedded; it was almost unseemly how happy Clytemnestra was and how many long, loving looks she cast on
her husband.

  Helen dreamed of a man looking at her the way Clytemnestra’s groom gazed upon her.

  Afterward, everyone celebrated with wine and delicious food dishes, especially prepared for the feast. There was psári, or fish, its skin blackened with hot, bitter spices and decorated in a sauce made of cucumber, dill, black pepper, yoghurt, and green peas.

  Fish stuffed with barley and pistachios was lightly covered with chopped pistachios, sliced zucchini, and sliced lemons, caramelized in an olive oil, bitter but savory.

  Yet, another fish dish was a plate of fish, delicately cooked with lemon verbena and dill with pickled celery and thinly sliced dates. The cooks had colored eggs, purple and yellow, sliced them, and set them on the plate with bread, avgotaraho, mashed fish roe, and feta cheese. Next to the egg dish, olives and plums in a sauce of mint and hot pepper filled a beautifully carved wooden bowl.

  In a deep dish was a pureed sauce of red and green tomatoes, onions, and olives drizzled over shredded cabbage with tiny bits of fried fish in it.

  A special meat dish was goat served with thyme and fennel stalks cut into savory, soft bites. A simple side dish of boiled young nettles and greens was dotted with mussels and fried meatballs made of goat and cheese.

  Tomatoes and eggplant were cooked in olive oil, marinated in garlic and bay leaves, and served over barley and bits of carrots. Potatoes were layered with zucchini and spinach and covered lightly in an olive oil and soft cheese sauce with bits of sage.

  Pastry dough was filled with strips of rabbit laid out going one way and then figs, pears, and cabbage crisscrossed the rabbit. The pattern was repeated several more times between thin layers of pastry dough and cooked in a pie with a pear and onion sauce. Another favorite rabbit dish were grape leaves stuffed with rabbit, fava beans, and barley.

  A sweet offered was pasteli, a candy of sesame and honey and covered with retsina, a wine mixed with pine resin. Pastries were dusted with oil, honey, and walnuts or almonds.

  Other desserts offered were a plate of pastries: some flavored with rose water, some topped with bits of grapes and a hint of wine, some with sesame and anise, and others with lemon and honey. A dense cake of dates, pears, cherries, and almonds topped the sweets’ table.