Oenone plucked a long blade of grass as they passed by it. “She has been hostage long enough to call Salamis home. What if she has no desire to return to Troy?”
“She belongs in Troy. She was taken as a prisoner. Why would she wish to remain among foreigners?”
Oenone shrugged in silence. She had no answer for her husband.
Paris stopped walking. He faced Oenone. “Are you happy with this life?”
“We have lived in peace for many seasons. The River flows. Our son thrives.”
“And you have no wish to live in Troy? Ever?” Paris asked in earnest.
“None. You know this. I belong to my world. And you with us.”
They came to the sacred tree of their vows. Paris stopped. He turned to face Oenone. The truth felt like a lump of bread too dry to swallow without aid of wine. “Oenone…I…”
Clouds filled the sky casting shadows on the green hills as they passed overhead; the gloomy light a foreboding of the murky future shrouded by dreams. A tremor passed beneath Oenone’s bare feet. She knew her world was shifting.
“The ship is already prepared. They wait only for my return to set sail. I must go. You know this,” Paris said quietly.
“Will you return? To us?” The whispers of premonitions past ignited her dormant fears. The birds ceased their songs. The wind riders with delicate wings of thin gossamer dropped like autumn leaves around the meadow. The nymph searched her husband’s face for comfort. Tears spilled. She couldn’t bear the thought of living without him.
Without answering her, Paris kissed his wife. They looked at each other, grief and tears mingling. He clung to her. She’d been the home of his heart. He knew that he must collect Aphrodite’s gift, or risk offending her. Paris knew it was no coincidence the Priam’s command and Aphrodite’s words collided. He knew he must obey his father, King Priam and the goddess. How could he tell Oenone he would return with another? The one she’d feared for so long in her dreams. He tried to walk away, but found he couldn’t. He called her back again for another last kiss.
“There is no wind,” he said.
“My love, the men will be calling out for you to join them soon,” Oenone said.
“I am afraid...,” he said.
Just then, the wind picked up, a gentle breeze stirred the air. Paris knew his wife was right. His crew would be waiting impatiently for his boarding so they could catch the fair winds across the Aegean. Finally, he broke from her embrace and made the long journey back to the dock and his waiting crew.
From afar, Oenone watched the bright blue sail of his ship billow in the breeze. The oarsmen dug deep and swift into the piercing blue water, white foam churning with every stroke. Oenone allowed herself to weep now. She held a thread of hope that Paris’ love would sustain this distance, this test of faith. She prayed her premonitions false.
“Nereids of the sea, bring him back safely to me,” she prayed into the salty air whipping her hair across her face. “Bring his love back to us.”
CASSANDRA STOOD ON the rampart of the great wall of Troy next to Hecuba watching the ship carrying Paris to far distant Greece. Moved by Apollo’s curse, she spoke, “He will bring the doom of Troy.”
Hecuba crossed her arms tightly across her chest. “You speak of evils long since proven false. He brings not doom, but renewed hope for Troy.” The two women remained side by side watching the ship until it fell from sight behind the line where the sea met the sky.
The priestess wiped a bright tear from her cheek. “I speak the truth, but you will not hear me.”
“I lost Paris when he was just a babe. I will not let the gods frighten me with their riddles and false dreams again.”
HELEN HANDED THE baby to the wet nurse. “I believe the child is hungry. She pushes her face to my breast.”
The wet nurse took the baby and cooed at its soft fussing. “There little Hermione, little princess.” She opened her gown and the babe hungrily latched on to the large nipple and quickly calmed.
Helen watched her daughter suckle at the other woman’s bosom. She had believed a child would bring her happiness with Menelaus, but she had been wrong. The young queen sighed heavily and looked out her window to the hills beyond the palace. She yearned for a different life. Sparta served more as prison than as home. When Menelaus took the crown as king, the freedom she’d enjoyed since childhood shrank to the palace grounds. Now, her days were marked with endless thoughts of escape to live a life of her choosing, not one the fat king dictated.
“I am told we have guests this evening, my lady,” the wet nurse said.
The queen leaned against the ledge. “We do. I hear a Prince of Troy has arrived with horses as gifts for my husband.”
The wet nurse rocked the child in her arms as she nursed it. Her experienced hand swept the baby’s forehead to lull the tiny princess to sleep as her royal belly filled. “Aye. I hear the horses are almost as magnificent as the prince himself.”
Helen’s eyes narrowed. “The horses merit such praise?”
“Aye. So I’ve heard.”
“I should see them for myself. Perhaps one will be a suitable match for Hermione.” Helen adjusted her hair in the polished silver mirror and smiled. “You have care of the princess.”
“Aye, my lady.”
Helen swept through the door as she spoke, “I should see that Aethra has the hall properly prepared.”
With her mistress gone, the wet nurse looked down into the baby’s face and kissed her soft pink cheek. “You’re too young for a horse sweet face. Too young. If I know your mother...well, no mind then.”
PARIS BRUSHED THE tawny hide of the mare until the silver undertone shimmered. “You are a pretty girl.” He patted her neck gently.
“She is,” a voice behind him sounded as music in his ears.
The prince turned to find a woman with eyes as pale green as a shallow sea staring at him. “She is for the queen. Queen Helen.”
“Interesting. I had not heard you would be bringing gifts to the house of Menelaus. You were headed to...Salamis was it not? To rescue the dusty crone Hesione.”
Guilt at his failure made him look to the dirt and straw beneath his feet. “She is family. I have failed in her regard. And when I return, I shall have to face the reflection of that failure in my father’s eyes.”
“I see. Family is...important for many reasons.”
Paris couldn’t help but notice the golden blondness of her hair. The perfection of her skin. “Family is all things relevant to life.”
“There is a feast in your honor this evening. Hospitality demands nothing less that a feast for a Prince of Troy.”
“Will I see you there?” Paris asked.
Helen walked to the horse and ran her hand down the mare’s elegant neck. “She is a fine beast.” The horse nuzzled Helen’s shoulder and she smiled coyly. “The queen will be pleased.”
MEN LAUGHED. WOMEN laughed. The silver strings of lyres and joyful song filled the air. Paris was into his second bowl of wine, when all sound ceased as the herald announced the queen’s entrance. His eyes fell on the golden beauty from the stables. He nodded to her. Of course. The merriment resumed as she entered and took her place in between to her husband, King Menelaus and the guest of honor. Paris lifted the hammered silver bowl to his lips. A voice whispered seductively—She is yours. Take her. The hair on Paris’ arm stood on end. He knew the voice. “Aphrodite?” the name barely audible as it passed over his lips. It is. “I cannot,” he said. You can.
Menelaus asked, “What can you not do?”
“Nothing. It is nothing!” Paris laughed at the awkwardness of the situation. “Let us drink until we fall where we stand!” Again, Aphrodite spoke—She is yours. Take her.
Helen took the shared vessel between herself and Paris and raised it to her lips. “We meet again.”
“It was an unfair advantage, my lady. I did not know who you were.”
“Do I sense disappointment?”
“Only that
I hoped the woman I met was unattached. Now, I see that you most clearly are. I would have put you from my mind, if I had known.”
“I am flattered, Prince of Troy.” Helen reached a hand to his. “You are most noble.”
Paris pulled his hand from hers. “I have spoiled your surprise. My apologies, Queen Helen.”
Helen twirled a lock of her hair around her finger. “The mare.”
Paris swallowed hard. His cock twitched. “Yes, the mare.”
“She is a most lovely creature. The most handsome addition to the royal stables, I am certain.” Helen took another sip of wine. “Will you take me to her?”
Paris took the bowl she proffered. “You mean, now?”
The queen nodded. “That is what I mean.” She put a hand on her husband’s shoulder. He turned to face her. “Did you arrange for this gift? The horse from Troy?” Before Menelaus could utter a word, she kissed his cheek. He flushed more ruddy than he was by nature. “You are the most adoring husband a wife could ask the gods for.”
The king gripped her hand in his. “You are pleased, then?”
Helen batted her eyes under his heavy attention. “I am.”
Menelaus’ fingers dug into her thigh beneath the table. “You may thank me later.”
Helen looked down at the greasy mark his hand made on her gown. His crudeness disgusted her. But, she’d learned long ago how to move men without even a word. With adoring eyes she asked, “May I visit her now? At the stables? I caught barely a glimpse of her earlier. I should like to thoroughly inspect my gift now that I know she is mine to keep.”
“Go! Go my love. Take the guards with you.” Menelaus swiped his hand against the air. “Go! Enjoy the gift.”
“I should like the Trojan Prince to accompany us. He knows the horse better than anyone. I would hear all about this mare.”
Menelaus, the wine filling him with warmth and his wife’s kiss filling him with promise of a heated night in the dark, felt generous. “Yes, by all means. If the prince does not mind leaving such a festive hall behind?”
Paris twisted the golden cuff at his wrist. “I would be honored.”
As they walked to the stables, Helen pulled her himation closer about her shoulders. “The chill is unexpected on a night like tonight. Stars blazing against a clear black sky.”
Paris pulled his own cloak from his shoulders and wrapped it around Helen. “I am used to the chill. I have spent many nights under such stars.” He was highly aware of the three guards shadowing them, so was careful not to look into her eyes. Once at the stable, she commanded the guards to wait outside. They obeyed their queen.
The tawny mare with a silver mane whinnied at the sight of Paris. “There now, girl.” He put his hand to the horse’s nose and stroked it softly and scratched her behind the ears.
Helen held out her hand to the horse and followed Paris’ lead. She let her fingers brush against his as she stroked the horse.
Paris pulled his hand to his side and stepped back. “What are you doing?”
Helen pressed closer to him, dropping her himation and his cloak to the ground. “This is what you want, is it not?” She placed a soft hand on his chest.
“I...I...no, we cannot,” he gently rebuffed her advance. “I have a wife.”
Helen laughed quietly. “And I, a husband. A wife matters not to me. She is not here, is she? How will she know, unless you speak the words to her?”
“But Menelaus...,” Paris leaned closer, warming to the overture. Aphrodite’s words rang in his head, Take her, she is yours...
“He will never know. Not a single word from my lips, Paris, Prince of Troy.”
“I cannot deny that you are beautiful,” he said.
Helen gently touched his cheek and let her finger trace the line of his jaw. Then, she let her fingers caress the side of his neck as she pulled his head down to hers. “Are you thirsty, Paris, Prince of Troy?” His dark eyes bored into hers with a hunger so palpable her heart began to race.
The prince bent his head to kiss her full, waiting lips.
Take him... own him...a woman’s voice spoke near Helen’s ear. A desire sparked instantly deep within her belly for Paris and turned to burning flame beneath his kisses. The fierceness of her need of him shocked her. He was a stranger, yet she knew, in this moment of passion, she couldn’t live without him. Didn’t want to live without him. “I want you inside me.”
Paris lifted her silken gown up over her hips and slipped his hand between her thighs, sliding his fingers into her sacred cross. His hand brought tiny moans to her lips. Helen spread her thighs so he could reach deeper inside her. “More. I beg you more.” The words barely escaped her lips, when he picked her up over his hips, pressing her back into a nearby wooden beam. Holding her with one arm, he released his cock with his free hand. Helen felt the heat of it pressed against her inner thigh. “Why do you pause,” she whispered into his neck. “Take me. I must have you, or I will die.”
Paris plunged his lust inside her. He rammed her with hard, hungry thrusts. Helen grabbed his shoulders, digging her nails into his skin. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist. Each thrust reached deeper, until the heat inside her reached its peak. Paris covered her mouth with his to stifle her cries as she reached a shaking climax. He followed quickly after spilling his lust deep inside her. Gently, he set her on her feet. They stood panting and holding each other like long lost lovers. Helen broke the silence between them. “I feel as if I have just returned home.”
“In this, you are not alone.” Paris buried his face in her neck, covering her porcelain skin with kisses.
“Take me with you,” Helen whispered into his ear.
Paris abruptly ceased the onslaught of his lips, lifting his head to meet her gaze. “You wish to go to Troy?”
Her heart pounded. “I would not be parted from you.”
“Nor I from you. Helen...” He kissed her. Any thought of Oenone fluttered away...Oenone...
The world around Helen faded as his warm mouth descended on hers. She could taste the wine and honey on his tongue. He smelled of the sea and stars. His kiss deepened. Helen’s knees weakened, and he pulled her closer, kissing her harder. His tongue assaulted her mouth and smashed against hers until her lips swelled beneath his. She tasted the tang of blood on her bottom lip. In that moment she lost all desire to be queen of Sparta. Since marrying Menelaus, she’d seduced many men in her quest for love, but none had awakened her passions until now. All her life she’d built walls around her heart. Now, with a kiss, all her defenses tumbled to dust at her feet. Her heart lay exposed for the first time in her life. Paris was pulling her love to the surface and it frightened her. This prince from Troy was unlocking the gates guarding her very soul, one by one, with each kiss, with each caress and she was helpless to stop him. What frightened her most was that deep down, in the secret recesses of her heart; she wanted him to possess her, every part of her. She wanted to become a part of his very soul, a part of him that he couldn’t live without. For the first time, she longed for a cage, a prison, a dungeon...any walls at all that would bind them together forever.
Paris broke the spell. “We should go. Your husband will be suspicious if we do not return soon.”
“Let the polis and Menelaus be swallowed up by Poseidon’s raging sea. I do not care. Let the sea swallow me as well, if I cannot be with you.”
Paris pulled her tightly against his chest. “What you ask is impossible. I do not deny that I desire it. But it cannot be done.”
A tear slid down Helen’s cheek. “I will die if I cannot be with you.”
Paris wiped the tear away with his thumb. His guilt slowly returned him to his senses. “Apollo’s glory will rise each day after I have sailed for home. In time, this feeling will fade into pleasant memory...for us both.”
“I think you are mistaken, Paris. I have been imprisoned here in Sparta my entire life. Guarded and protected like a delicate treasure. I long for freedom. For love. I have none of
those things here. Take me with you or I will surely die of a broken heart and broken spirit.”
“I do not see how it can be done,” Paris said. “What of your child?”
“Hermione must remain in Sparta. She is the rightful heir,” Helen said.
“But can you live without your daughter?” Thoughts of Hecuba’s grief came to mind. He wondered if Helen truly knew what she was sacrificing. Then it occurred to him, the plain truth of this easily professed love. They were both under Aphrodite’s influence. Helen knew nothing of the judgment, yet she was the promised treasure. Would her love fade if she knew her place as pawn for the Goddess of Love’s triumph as the fairest? The pull of wanting Helen was as the moon upon the sea. He knew that it was happening, yet could not...no, he thought, did not want to halt its ebb and flow between them.
“No sacrifice is without pain.”
Paris shook his head. “I still say it is impossible.”
“If I show you the way, will you consider my offer?”
Paris didn’t answer immediately, but then, “Yes.”
Helen embraced her new lover. “What a life we shall have, you and I.” She smoothed her gown and re-pinned tendrils of her hair that had escaped during their love making. “Then, we should go.”
AFTER PARIS RETURNED safely to his private chambers, the words of Aphrodite echoed in his head. How can it be done, goddess? You have gifted me the impossible. I have a wife. I cannot steal the wife of another. Paris conjured up Oenone’s face. I cannot...
The goddess’s words floated overhead, Yes you can, Paris...and you will...it is your destiny to love her and herald the doom of Troy...
THE GOLDEN GLOW of Apollo’s light lit the Queen’s chamber. Helen opened her eyes and smiled remembering the love-making she shared with Paris. She imagined herself as a princess of Troy. It was told that the women of Asia were highly regarded by their men and families and not treated as mere chattel. My life will be more glorious in Troy. I will be free. A knock sounded at her door. Helen kicked the coverlets off. “What hour is it?”
Song of Princes (Homeric Chronicles #1) Page 27