Helen of Sparta Read Online Free PDF Page A

glanced up at his face. He walked stiffly beside me, eyes straight ahead. “But you can hardly expect me to confess my nightmares in front of Leda and Ajax the Great. It is a private matter, for his ea rs alone.”
    “And what of Menelaus?”
    I frowned, trailing my fingers along the painted oak branches on the wall as an excuse not to look at him. We’d had this conversation dozens of times. “You heard Tyndareus. I’m to remain in my room.”
    “Helen, you can’t really be serious. Rejecting Menelaus’s friendship, hiding the truth. If the dreams reveal your fate, he is to be your husband!”
    I whirled, grabbing him by the arm, but I pulled him to a stop only because he let me. He was so strong, now, so adult. The next time Tyndareus went to war, Pollux would go with him. And the time after that, he and Castor would lead the soldiers themselves. Would he lead men in the burning city for Menelaus as well? Would my brothers die there, with all t he others?
    “Promise me you will not tell him!”
    Pollux searched my face, but he did not repl y at once.
    “Promise me, Pollux! Whatever happens, I must not marry Menelaus, and if he knows, it will only encourage him to love me.”
    He sighed. “Helen, with your marriage goes the kingdom of Sparta. Tyndareus will not choose a husband for you based on love. The best you can hope for is a friend. A man who will respect you. Menelaus will be that man, and he will be a good king for our people. You cannot ask for more t han that.”
    “I can ask for peace. I can ask for war to be averted. There are other men,” I said. “Greater men than Menelaus.”
    Pollux shook his head. “You sound like Leda. To hear her talk, you would think the great hero Heracles or King Theseus had already asked for your hand. There is no shame in an alliance with Mycenae.”
    I flushed and began walking again. We were not far from the women’s quarters, and Pollux would not be able to follow me there. Only the king could walk within that part of the palace; all other men were forbidden. When I saw the curtained entrance, I ran toward it.
    “Hel en, wait!”
    I glanced back over my shoulder as I pulled open the curtain. “Enjoy the banquet, Brother.” And then I let the fabric drop, cutting off his reply.

    The stranger holds me by the hand, drawing me past stalls of colored fabrics in brilliant purples and blues, even the rarest greens, and stands that overflow with finely wrought gold and silver in quantities that make even Agamemnon seem poor. The people around us smile, bowing as we pass, and the merchants call to us, waving their goods in the air. He looks back at me, grinning, his pale brown eyes alight with joy, and my breath catches. For the space of a heartbeat, I wonder if I came with him willingly.
    The thought startles me, and I try to pull my hand free, but he does not let go. His smile fades and he tugs me closer, his fingers twining through mine. For all that he laughs and smiles, his grip is too tight, as though he fears I will free mysel f and run.
    “Is my city not beautiful? ” he asks.
    We stand at a jeweler’s stall. The man lays out a variety of gemstones before us. One is an emerald larger than my thumbnail. The jeweler grins, holding it up. “To match your eyes! Any setting that you desire, I can make.”
    I shake my head with a smile and step back.
    “It is very beautiful, ” I agree.
    “All of it can be yours, Helen.” The stranger pulls me into his arms, and the heat of him burns through me. “If you will be my wife.”
    I look back at the merchant with his emerald, at all the bright colors, and all t he people.
    It turns to ash before me. The reds and golds and purples flame into smoke and shadow and darkness, stinging my eyes. I cough and push the stranger away, but he will not let go. He buries his face in my hair, his arm around my waist holding me firm. His lips move against my neck and throat, trailing fire with kisses, while the world is torn with