The Princess of Sparta: Heroes of the Trojan War Read Online Free PDF Page A

not Mycenae who watched Helen’s union with interest, but Agamemnon himself. She tried to hide the spike of hate flaring in her heart. This man took her sister from her, and now he shamed Nestra with little afterthought.
    He should not lust for me , she scorned the man for his greed. Clytemnestra was her identical twin.
    But one stray glance at Nestra’s twisted face belied that fact. It was commonly rumored amongst the palace staff that Aphrodite blessed both of Tyndareus’ daughters with her beauty, but only one with her grace. It was an unfair comparison, but one Nestra never fully forgave.
    Agamemnon tossed his cape over his shoulder and strode down the dock to the gathering nobles. Tyndareus had arrived accompanied by his advisors and liegemen. The men greeted each other stiffly and set off for the palace. Nestra’s eyes followed their father as he left without a single sign of welcome for her.
    Helen slid her hand into her sister’s, giving it a gentle squeeze. This awkwardness was her fault—she insisted Mycenae be present for her courtship. Matters between the two kingdoms had been tense over the past three years. Agamemnon had demanded a Spartan bride as recompense for some squabble Helen could not recall. As eldest, Clytemnestra was offered. But the greedy king chose not to wait until her sister came of age and married Nestra at the tender age of 13.
    A year later, when he needed help quelling an uprising in the north, Agamemnon came courting again, this time for Sparta’s fearsome Hoplite soldiers. He thought to soften Tyndareus with an impromptu visit from his daughter. But when Tyndareus saw Clytemnestra was with child, and her barely more than a child herself, Agamemnon’s plan backfired. Tyndareus steadfastly refused aid. The Mycenaean king left in a hurry, and the two sisters hadn’t seen each other since.
    Helen begged her father to make amends, but he refused to relent. Finally, when her courtship was announced, he had no further excuses. Agamemnon was too powerful to insult in such a manner. The invitation was extended and politely accepted.
    The sisters watched the Mycenaean entourage disappear into the city, and only then did Nestra’s hard exterior melt. “Were that it you who was given to the brute instead of me,” she sighed, tucking a loose strand of Helen’s hair behind her ear. “But you were always slower than me, even in birth.” Her sharp laugh gave lie to the jest. Helen took it in stride. Nestra had few people she could truly talk to, and Helen didn’t mind if the words stung.
    “Have you ever considered that I waited for your approval first?” Helen asked playfully, her eyes alight as she studied Nestra’s face, still in quiet disbelief her sister was actually here. “Or that I’d follow you into this world and the next? Would you mock such loyalty?”
    “Oh, Sister,” Nestra rolled her eyes, hooking Helen’s arm in hers as they started the long trek back up to the palace, “You are so dramatic.” Her chiming laughter was like music to Helen’s ears. “It is good to be home.”

    Agamemnon warmed himself by the central hearth in Tyndareus’ megaron. It was the Hour of the Wolf, that ominous time when the night was at its darkest. Agamemnon should have sought his bed hours ago. But the hall was quiet as it hadn’t been since his arrival. And his host, the honorable—and seemingly tireless—King Tyndareus still held vigil over his hall. Only at this late hour could Agamemnon command his full attention.
    A week had passed since he landed on Spartan soil and the fighting had only grown worse. Courting games were usually conducted with the sacred spirit of sportsmanship, but every suitor wanted Tyndareus’ prize for himself. Blood feuds would soon ensue. And if that happened, the fragile alliance Agamemnon spent the last few years developing would be at risk.
    Damn Tyndareus, and his bewitching daughter!
    Helen was a great beauty, there was no denying that. She had a