Nobody's Princess (8 page)

Lord Thyestes’s messenger headed back north the next morning. As soon as he was out of the palace, I went to my parents and said I needed to speak with them about an urgent, private matter. The three of us went up to their sleeping chamber, where I told them that when Clytemnestra and my brothers set out for Mykenae, I wanted to go too.

“Out of the question,” Father said almost before I’d finished speaking.

“Tyndareus, wait,” Mother said, taking my hand. “Let her tell you her reasons before you say no.”

“What reasons could she have that would be more important than her safety?” he countered. “The roads are full of dangers.”

“But you’re sending Clytemnestra over those same roads,” I pointed out.

“She
has
to go,” he said. “You don’t.”

“But I
want
to,” I said. “My sister needs me. She’s going to a strange land, a strange house, a total stranger for a husband. It’s terrifying! If I travel with her, she’ll have something familiar to hold on to, someone to talk to on the journey.”

“She’ll have the boys,” Father replied.

“They’ll be on horseback all the way to Mykenae,” Mother told him. “And they won’t have time to talk to her or even listen to her: They’ll be too busy staying alert for any perils on the road.”

“She’ll be riding in a cart, all alone,” I put in. “Father,
please.
She’s so unhappy. Let me go!”

“Let you go?” he echoed. “Have you forgotten you’re the heir to Sparta? Do you expect me to put all of my children into Thyestes’s power? Why don’t I just hand him my sword and let him cut my throat?”

“But Thyestes is our kinsman now,” Mother maintained. “He’d never—”

“A lot that means to a Mykenaean!” Father countered. “You know the stories.”

“So do you,” Mother said bitterly. “You still gave him our daughter.”

“What choice did I have?” Father’s jaw tightened. “He wanted an alliance, guaranteed by marriage. Clytemnestra is the price of peace.”

“Is that what you want me to do when I’m queen of Sparta?” I asked. “
Buy
peace?”

Father gave me a sad look. “I don’t do this gladly, Helen. We Spartans are never afraid to fight, but even if we’d win a war with Mykenae, it would take so many years and cost us so many lives that Sparta would be defenseless afterward. Your enemies will always be watching for any signs of weakness. Remember
that
when you’re queen.”

“Then why not show Lord Thyestes just how strong we
really
are?” I asked. “Father, if you let me go to Mykenae with Clytemnestra, it will be like saying,
See the power of Sparta, Lord Thyestes! We’re so mighty that we have no fear of letting all of our children travel beyond our borders at once, even our future queen! We have no fear of you at all.
”

“That,” said Father, “is a bad idea.” And he sent me away.

In the days that followed, my sister did nothing but weep quietly in her bed while the servants packed her things. I spent my days at her side, trying to cheer her, telling her how much I envied her the chance to travel, to see new places, new people. Who knew what adventures the road to Mykenae might hold? She only sobbed that she didn’t
want
any adventures, she just wanted to stay home or die.

She refused to eat, making Ione so frantic that she fetched Mother. Mother took one look at Clytemnestra’s haggard face and went to speak with Father. Soon the palace halls echoed with sharp words and loud arguments as Father’s counselors and highest-ranking noblemen were drawn into the matter.

On the afternoon of the fourth day, Mother sat beside me on Clytemnestra’s bed and told me to go to my room. Puzzled, I obeyed, and when I got there I found Ione busily packing my clothes. Father came in before I could question her.

“Your idea about going to Mykenae with Clytemnestra isn’t so bad after all,” he said wearily. “It’s certainly the best I’ve heard, these past few days. Others have just said everything from ‘Call off the marriage’ to ‘Just send her, weeping or not; she’s Lord Thyestes’s problem now.’ It’s bad enough that I must give her in marriage to Mykenae. I’ll tear out my own heart before I cause her any further pain. Your brothers will look after you, and you’ll ride with my best soldiers for guards. Do what you can to comfort your sister, and may the gods watch over all my children.”

         
7
         

THYESTES’S SNARE

The next dawn found me seated beside my sister as our ox-drawn cart began the tedious overland trek to Mykenae. Even though the hard wooden slats we sat on were thickly cushioned with folded cloaks and blankets, I still felt as though my spine was going to be jounced out of my body when the lumbering wheels rolled over the next rock in our path.

And the smell! The gods alone knew what the oxen had been eating, to give off such a stench. I tried breathing through my mouth, but it didn’t help.

Clytemnestra dealt with the discomforts of the road by complaining, her voice crowding my ears so thoroughly that it often blotted out the creaking of the cart, the tramping of our guards’ sandaled feet, and the clash, clatter, and jangle of the wagons behind us, all loaded with my sister’s bridal goods. I let her grumble all she liked—it was better than her helpless tears. Sometimes I persuaded my brothers to ride their horses alongside our cart and let her gnaw on their ears, for a change.

It worked, but it was tiring for all of us. By the time we reached the outskirts of Mykenae, the four of us were heartily sick and tired of each other’s company. As our train of wagons began the climb up to the great gates of the city, two colossal stone lions above the entrance to the citadel glared down at us in vain. We were all too worn out to be impressed.

We were welcomed with bread and salt by Lord Thyestes himself. The ruler of Mykenae looked like one of Zeus’s own thunderclouds, his hair and beard a stormy gray, his eyes flashing like lightning. I didn’t believe his words of friendship for a minute. He had a wolf’s smile. It made my skin creep every time he looked at me, and he looked at me much too long and too often for comfort.

That night I couldn’t sleep. Lord Thyestes had given me a queenly room all to myself. Though there were two loyal Spartan soldiers standing guard outside my door, I was too tense to close my eyes. I’d wanted to share a room with my sister, but the king wouldn’t allow that. He claimed it would be an insult to all Sparta if I weren’t given lodging worthy of my rank. Maybe he was telling the truth, but I still felt like the deer that the hunting hounds isolate from the herd before they bring her down.

I tossed and turned, then got up and looked for the long, narrow box that held my jewelry and ornaments. As the heir of Sparta I’d been sent to Mykenae with enough necklaces, pins, and earrings to show off our land’s prosperity. The box holding them was Glaucus’s gift to me, and only the two of us knew its secret: When I tilted back the lid, with its inlaid patterns of pomegranates, and touched a secret catch inside, the false bottom of the box came loose, revealing my sword.

It comforted me to hold the little blade and practice some of the fighting moves that Glaucus had taught me. Just knowing that I wasn’t helpless was enough to push my fear of Lord Thyestes and his wolfish grin back into the shadows. Smiling, I hid the sword away again and went to sleep.

My sister was married on the third day of our visit. It was a grand event, with lavish sacrifices made to all the gods and two nights of feasting. Clytemnestra’s husband, Tantalus, wasn’t young or handsome, but he wasn’t
too
old or ugly either, and his homely face was so kind that it was impossible to believe he was Lord Thyestes’s son.

“When he saw how frightened I was, he made it a point to tell me that even though we’re married, we won’t live as husband and wife until I’m ready,” Clytemnestra confided in me as we sat together at the table during the first banqueting night. Her fears had begun to fade and she looked like her old self again. “Look at the wedding gift he gave me!” She proudly showed off the gold diadem in her hair with its embossed design of ivy leaves.

“I helped him choose it!” The boy seated beside me blurted out the words as though he’d been saving them up all his life. I knew who he was, because he’d been presented to us along with all the rest of the Mykenaean nobility: Prince Aegisthus, Lord Thyestes’s youngest living son. He was skinny, dark, about the same age as my sister and me, and had the first soft sprouting of whiskers on his upper lip.

“It’s beautiful,” I said. “You did a good job.”

The simple compliment made him blush crimson. “I just told Tantalus that girls like plant patterns more than animals,” he muttered. “That’s right, isn’t it? Or do you like animal patterns better?”

I smiled at him. “I like both.”

“Because if you’ll tell me what you
really
like, I’ll make sure to get it for you.”

My smile wavered. “You don’t need to—”

“But I want to!” Suddenly, Aegisthus was gazing at me as if I were something he feared and wanted at the same time. “At first I didn’t, but now that I’ve seen you”—he gulped for air—“I want you to like me.”

“I
do
like you.” I said it without thinking. “You don’t need to give me an expensive gift for that.”

“But you’ve got to have a bridal gift from me,” he said. “One that’s good enough for someone like you.”

I don’t know how the rest of the banquet went. I was too stunned by Aegisthus’s declaration. Only the bride’s husband could give her a gift as rich and gorgeous as a gold diadem. Suddenly it was clear: Without anyone bothering to ask or tell me
or
my father, it had been decided that I was going to marry Aegisthus. No need to wonder who’d made
that
decision. How convenient for Mykenae.

That night I sent one of my guards to fetch my brothers. I sat in the dark, clutching the hilt of my sword, until they came. When I told them what I’d learned, they wanted to scoop me up and race back to Sparta as fast as their horses could run. Polydeuces wanted to kick Thyestes over a cliff first.

“Stop it,” Castor said. “You know we can’t do any of that. If we run away, the Mykenaeans will use the insult as an excuse to start a war.”

“Even if they don’t do that, they’ll take it out on Clytemnestra,” I added. “This is all my fault for insisting on coming here. I’m going to have to deal with the consequences.” I took a deep breath to slow my racing heart. “It’ll be all right. As long as Thyestes doesn’t do anything to
force
me into marrying his son, I’ll just have to put up with the rest of it until it’s time for us to go home.”

“
I
say it’s time to go home
now,
” Polydeuces insisted. “Before Thyestes can come up with some scheme to keep you here until you agree to the marriage.”

“He can keep me here until the sky shatters,” I replied. “I won’t marry Aegisthus or any other Mykenaean princeling, and he can’t make me!”

My brothers just shook their heads.

Castor and Polydeuces tried to stay with me as much as possible the next day. They were waiting for me the instant I stepped out of my room.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Protecting you,” Castor said.

“I don’t think you need to do that,” I said. “I doubt he’s going to abduct me. Where would he take me? I’m already inside his walls.” I was trying to make a joke of a tense situation, but my brothers didn’t see the humor. They also didn’t see that Thyestes’s strength wasn’t in direct attack but in subtlety.

Though my brothers did their best to stay by my side all day, Thyestes found one excuse after another to separate us. In the morning he told my brothers that the young warriors of Mykenae wanted to test their skills against the princes of Sparta. How could Castor and Polydeuces refuse? And how could I be allowed to go with them when girls were forbidden to watch men’s athletic contests? In the afternoon he told them that they had to speak for Sparta before the Mykenaean nobles. That was no place for a girl either, even the Spartan queen-to-be.

Keeping my brothers and me apart was only part of the old fox’s plan. While Castor and Polydeuces were elsewhere, the king pushed Aegisthus and me together. I could have hidden myself away in my room until the banquet, but I was no coward. I was Helen of Sparta, and I wouldn’t run away when I could fight.

The gods must have approved of my bravery, though poor Aegisthus suffered for his father’s arrogance. It was sad. He tried his awkward best to entertain and impress me, while I pretended he wasn’t there. My coldness confused and hurt him, I could tell, but I didn’t want to give him any false encouragement and I didn’t know what else to do.

That night, during the second wedding banquet, my brothers tried to introduce the subject of our return to Sparta. Predictably, Lord Thyestes refused to hear a word about it. “How can you go so soon? You’ll break your sister’s heart.” He gave Clytemnestra a look of false fondness that quickly became a frown when she made no move to look appropriately heartbroken. He tried a different tactic. “Of course, if you haven’t found our hospitality here to be good enough for you, I’ll understand if you leave.”

What could my brothers say to that without insulting the king of Mykenae? Castor and Polydeuces had to assure the king that they’d only offered to leave because they didn’t want to burden Mykenae with the expense of lodging and feeding us and all our followers.

That
was a mistake.

“I see.” Lord Thyestes steepled his fingers. “How kind of you to consider the welfare of your sister’s new home. By all means, then, send half your men back to Sparta tomorrow. I did wonder why you felt you had to come here surrounded by a small army. The roads between Sparta and Mykenae have bandits, not monsters.”

Castor and Polydeuces exchanged a stricken look. They were not much of a match for the old king’s wit. Now, if they refused to send home half our soldiers, they’d be liars. If they complied, we’d never have enough men on our side if Thyestes decided that the time had come to force me into marrying his youngest son.

So we discovered that words as well as swords could win battles.

My brothers yielded, telling the king that we were very grateful for his generosity and we’d stay as long as he liked. They made no mention of sending away any of our men, but Thyestes let that pass. As he sat there, stuffing his face with food, the chief steward of the palace approached and whispered something in his ear. Thyestes sat up straight, annoyed at being disturbed while he was eating.

“Yes, yes, I know he’s been waiting all day; I’ve been busy,” he said irritably, wiping the grease from his lips with the back of his hand. “Send him in.”

The steward bowed and withdrew. He returned shortly, followed by a short, scowling man whose hair and clothes were still heavy with the dust of the road.

“Hail, Lord Thyestes of Mykenae,” the man declaimed. “I bring greetings from my master, Lord Oeneus of Calydon.”

Thyestes’s eyebrows rose. Calydon, my mother’s native land, lay far to the northwest, across the isthmus of Corinth. The messenger had a tale of wonders to tell us, a tale of the gods themselves. Old men at Lord Thyestes’s table listened like spellbound children while the road-worn man told about how his master had made the worst mistake any mortal can. When he sacrificed to the gods in thanks for a good harvest, he forgot to include them all. Artemis, goddess of the moon and the hunt, received no sacrifice. It was an oversight, but the gods don’t care about mortal excuses: They only know that the payment for any insult is revenge.

“Now a wild boar is ravaging Calydon,” the messenger said. “A monstrous boar like a mountain, with hooves of bronze and tusks as big and sharp as scythes. The goddess Artemis sent him to punish my lord Oeneus. The beast destroys everything that crosses his path. His hooves and tusks tear up fields of grain; he breaks down the walls of houses and rampages through the streets of towns. He slaughters our herds and chases all the other game from our forests. The people starve. The hunters who’ve tried to kill him are gutted with a single slash of his tusks, their hounds trampled into bloody muck under the monster’s hooves. And that is why, Lord Thyestes, my master has at last realized that this beast can’t be killed by ordinary men. For this hunt, he wants heroes.”

There was a great murmuring when the messenger fell silent. Many of the Mykenaeans rose to their feet, eager to start out for wild Calydon that very moment. Every young man there was ready to proclaim himself a hero. My brothers were no exception, but not because they wanted glory. “Lord Oeneus is our uncle!” Castor cried, leaping up from his place at the table. “His queen, Althea, is our mother’s sister.”