Helen Had a Sister Page 6

  “What do you suggest?” I asked.

  “You shouldn’t do anything,” she advised. “Just concentrate on making yourself beautiful and desirable so you get plenty of attention. You need to keep an open mind about the suitors who offer for you. If Agamemnon does turn up and asks for you, then you can assess his offer against his competitors’. Even if you still choose him, and if Father allows that, you want to keep Agamemnon in some doubt. He’ll value you the more for it. Men want what they can’t get, so don’t be a pushover.”

  I sighed but accepted the wisdom of her advice.

  The Gymnopaedia seemed a long time to wait before I discovered my fate.

  CHAPTER

  EIGHT

  LEDA ENTERED INTO ARRANGEMENTS WITH ENTHUSIASM. I was absolutely forbidden from participating in the games as a competitor.

  “We aren’t presenting you to your suitors as a Spartan warrior woman,” she said firmly. “You will be a decorous, charming and desirable princess, fit to adorn any court, and you are not going to scare off potential offers by proving yourself stronger, fitter or more skilled with weapons than your suitors.”

  I didn’t protest. I had never felt self-conscious about my body, but now I was the focus of strangers’ eyes and felt suddenly shy. I would have liked a close friend to talk to, but although my barrack mates were my sisters, there was an unbridgeable divide between the king’s daughter and his subjects. I could have friends, but only if that friendship didn’t compromise the dignity of the royal house. My pre-wedding hopes and fears could later be used in a political context, so I remained discreet.

  Our cousin Penelope came to visit. Two years younger than me, she divided the age gap between Helen and myself, and accordingly became friend to both of us. As a king’s daughter she also understood the need for discretion and enjoyed the intimacy of our company.

  She was a quiet girl, not one to put herself forward, a quality my mother noted with approval. I passed on Leda’s words of praise and was rewarded with a grin.

  “Haven’t you heard it’s the quiet ones who need to be watched most closely?” she asked. “Just because I’m quiet doesn’t mean I’m not thinking. My father would be horrified if he knew some of my thoughts.”

  We were sitting in the courtyard of the palace with good open space around us and no need to fear that we were being overheard. I leaned back on my couch and considered her. She was a pretty girl, with a soft, gentle face that became beautiful when she smiled.

  I gathered her relationship with her father was a rocky one, and Penelope was frank about her intent to find a suitor as quickly as possible so she could escape her childhood home.

  “Don’t you wonder whether a husband might not treat you well?” I asked. This thought had occurred to me far too frequently in the last few weeks.

  “I believe I can make a husband love me,” she said. “It isn’t very difficult to make a man happy. All it takes is attention to what pleases them, and I am happy to pay them that attention. Remember, I want to escape my home, so almost any man will do. Of course, I’d like it if they had a brain, and I’d prefer it even more if they loved me, but that may be more than I can ever expect.” She gave me an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I’m not romantic, but I think I can be happy if I’m sensible about my marriage.”

  “So you’ve never been in love?” asked Helen.

  I watched with fascination as a deep flush of red crept up from Penelope’s neckline to her face. Her body was determined to betray her, regardless of her prosaic words.

  “There is someone, isn’t there?” urged Helen, who could see the same signs. “Who is he? Is he suitable? What does your family think?”

  “Enough”, laughed Penelope. “No, there isn’t anyone, really. There was a man I liked, but really, he lives on a rocky island, so he’s not a great catch. Something about him made me listen, and I liked his mind. He was clever and subtle, but not conceited. You know what I mean? But that doesn’t mean he would be interested in me. I don’t have a large dowry.”

  Helen and I stared at her. She had raised so many different points for us to consider, and her approach was so far removed from our own it was hard to know what to say.

  “Who do you pray to? Who’s your favourite god or goddess?” I asked at last to lighten the mood. “What about you, Helen?”

  “Aphrodite, of course,” said Helen. “The goddess of love. Who else should a young woman pray to?” She stretched her arms out in a dramatic gesture, as if surrendering herself to the sun.

  Helen’s voice dropped a tone and went soft and dreamy as she spoke. “Wouldn’t you just love to be swept away on a wave of passion that caught you up and changed your life? Imagine how wonderful that would be.”

  I rolled my eyes at Penelope. It was just as well Helen wasn’t old enough to get married for four years.

  Penelope snorted with derision. “I can’t think of anything worse. The wave would recede and you’d be left, dumped like wrack along the seashore after a storm. You wouldn’t even be able to control where you ended up. I didn’t think Spartan warrior girls had thoughts like that anyway.”

  Well, I hadn’t thought so either. I studied Helen with some surprise. Sometimes I was amazed by the things she said. She was young, but she had never before given any indication of being silly.

  Helen gave a sigh. “I think there can be nothing more lovely than a man who is prepared to sacrifice everything for the love of you. Think of it, being valued for your own self, not for your dowry, your kingdom or your army. Just pure love. It’s why I pray to Aphrodite.”

  “That sounds like some nonsense a poet might write,” I said, laughing at her. “Penelope’s right, I don’t think that would work out very well in real life. Anyway, I pray to Artemis, and I don’t think waves of passion come very high in her regard.”

  “What about you, Penelope?” asked Helen. “Who do you pray to?”

  “Hera,” said Penelope. “I pray to a goddess who will give me a safe marriage and a family. I suppose that’s what I want for my life.”

  We all fell quiet, contemplating our futures.

  The silence went on a little too long before Penelope turned to me. “What do you want from your marriage, Nestra?”

  “I just want to love my husband and to have him love me,” I said, wondering if I would be so lucky.

  “What about wealth and power and status?” asked Penelope. “Those things are important to our parents. Tyndareus may be thinking of that more than who we love.”

  “He’s promised me that happiness is something he wants for me, so I hope he thinks about more than wealth,” I said. “Otherwise I’ll be packed off to some old rich man.”

  “Ugh,” said Helen.

  “Ugh indeed,” murmured Penelope.

  There was another thoughtful silence, broken by Helen’s sudden laughter. “Look at us all, so gloomy and depressed. I bet within ten years we’ll all be happily married to men who adore us. How could they not, when we are as wonderful as we are?”

  * * *

  The first suitors began to arrive a week before the festival. I was walking in the olive grove with Leda when we saw the first chariots arrive and drew back into the shade of the tree to see who it was. I didn’t recognise the man.

  “Who is it?” I asked my mother.

  “Tantalus of Pisa,” she replied.

  I looked at him carefully. This was the man who had initiated the process of finding me a husband. I wondered how he felt now his wooing had turned into a competition.

  “Isn’t that Odysseus as well?” I asked.

  “Yes, King of Ithaca. They must have come together,” she said. I noticed she was careful to give each man his full title as if their role as potential suitors had increased their dignity.

  They were followed a day later by the King of Lydia. I had been afraid no contenders for my hand would turn up and I would be humiliated, so I greeted all comers with more warmth than I inte
nded.

  When most of our guests had arrived, Tyndareus welcomed them all to his palace and set out the rules for the various contenders for my hand. They were to make their approach to Tyndareus, with details of their exploits, their kingdom’s assets and political intentions. They could discuss with my father what they could bring to the marriage and how this union would benefit both families and kingdoms.

  “But,” said Tyndareus, “when I have selected a shortlist of suitable candidates, the final decision will be Clytemnestra’s. If you cannot win my daughter’s affections, then you will not wed her.”

  This caused something of a stir, and there was some muttering among the suitors. When had it become custom that women were consulted, let alone allowed to choose for themselves? A few glanced my way as if seeing me for the first time. Plainly they hadn’t factored the need to charm me into their bid for my hand and were now assessing how to deal with my father’s requirement.

  I was sitting beside Leda, watching proceedings. Helen and Penelope were seated behind us. I looked at the men, trying to read them. My future depended on these suitors, and I knew so little about them all.

  Tantalus was an attractive man, tall, well made with unruly, bushy hair and smiling eyes. I suppose any woman takes an interest in a man who shows an interest in her, and Tantalus followed up the compliments he had paid me on his initial approach to my father with real and evidently sincere admiration in person. He seemed an intelligent man, one determined to rule his kingdom fairly.

  If I had to marry someone other than Agamemnon, I could do worse.

  We had still had no news from Mycenae.

  I was less impressed with the King of Lydia. He strutted into the palace like a short, round pigeon expecting Tyndareus and me to be grateful for his attention. The man was impossible on all counts. His only claim to my attention was the large double-bladed axe he brought as a gift. Called a labrys, it was a heavy, sharp, vicious-looking weapon. I admired it immensely and when I lifted it was impressed to find the weapon balanced so finely I could swing it with ease. I gave it a twirl or two before I looked up to see Leda glaring at me. I put the axe down in a hurry with a muttered word of thanks to its donor.

  We attended the Gymnopaedia with our guests. It seemed strange to sit in the stands rather than compete in the stadium below. I watched the running with a pang of regret. I wasn’t a little girl any more.

  Odysseus, seated on my left, although courteous and charming, clearly wasn’t interested in me, and I wondered why he had attended the games. Helen, seated behind me leant forward and whispered that he had acknowledged Penelope when he arrived, and that Penelope had looked flustered. I paid closer attention to the King of Ithaca. He seemed popular with the other guests, and I could hear my father, on the far side, laughing at some of his comments.

  I turned to Tantalus, seated beside me, and asked, “Where does Odysseus come from?”

  “Ithaca,” he replied. “It’s a rocky island stuck out in the western sea. Why?” His tone was lightly charged with concern. Did he think me interested in the man?

  I hurried to reassure him. “He seems to know my cousin, so I wondered where he was from.”

  Abruptly Tantalus lost interest in Odysseus and began to narrate a story about a wild boar hunt. I listened with half an ear and turned to watch Penelope. If I remembered properly, she had mentioned a man from a rocky island. Helen had been right. Our cousin was more than interested in the King of Ithaca. She kept her eyes down and her head modestly covered, but I could read the tension in her slender shoulders and observed the way her body was inclined towards his. I hoped she would be lucky in her choice of suitor.

  The next day the men went into the hills hunting, which left the palace empty for a few hours. I blessed the silence around me until Leda used the time to remind me of my obligations.

  “You are not to make a spectacle of yourself,” she chided. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw you waving that axe around yesterday. You must control yourself, Nestra.” I nodded sulkily. “What is acceptable in Sparta isn’t universal, you know.”

  Well, what could I say? I was enjoying flirting with Tantalus. Frankly, of the available suitors he was clearly the best. He demonstrated a calm appreciation of all that Sparta’s armies could offer him, and a genuine appreciation of me.

  I didn’t love him, but in lieu of a better offer I imagined I could make a go of marriage to him.

  Penelope’s calm, prosaic wisdom coloured my decisions. Lacking love and passion, I would make do with kindness, shared objectives and someone who valued me. Clearly Agamemnon couldn’t be bothered following up on the words he had spoken. I hoped he rotted in Hades.

  CHAPTER

  NINE

  AGAMEMNON AND MENELAUS ARRIVED THE EVENING of the penultimate day of the Gymnopaedia. The suitors, who had enjoyed a strenuous day hunting boar in our mountains, were relaxed and raucous. Few noticed as the newcomers entered the hall.

  I saw Agamemnon immediately. Common sense dictated I should have seen his brother’s flaming red hair before anything else, but I had been waiting for Agamemnon for a year now. For the past two months I had looked hourly for his message and his return. I was a mass of frustrated energy, and watching him stroll, so casually, across the floor of the hall towards my father, I was filled with a murderous rage.

  Menelaus waved happily to Helen, embraced Leda and grasped my father firmly by the hand. He was everyone’s friend and boon companion. I smiled at Menlaus’s uncomplicated enthusiasm – and ignored Agamemnon. Did he really expect me to greet him in a friendly fashion now?

  I seethed with the humiliation I had suffered. I had embarrassed myself by declaring my affection for him to my family, only to hear nothing from the wretched man for over a year. Did he honestly think he could swan in now as if none of it mattered?

  Leda greeted him with a cool courtesy that was nothing like the warm hug she had given Menelaus, and I followed her example. I thought Agamemnon looked a bit miffed by my coolness, and rather more annoyed when I turned immediately afterwards to Tantalus and gave him my full attention.

  Later that evening I sat with Penelope and Helen. It was cool and peaceful in the women’s quarters. My mother had led the women away from the feasting when the happy, drunk men began to be rowdy.

  I was feeling wretched. “What do I do now?” I asked. “What am I supposed to say if he asks Father for me? He hasn’t tried to woo me, or in any way advance his cause. Whatever I thought before the suitors arrived, the situation is different now. Even that stupid Lydian king has tried to be nice to me. Agamemnon can’t just expect me to come to heel like a hunting hound when he hasn’t put any effort into winning me.”

  Helen poured a goblet of wine and thrust it into my hand. “Have a drink. You’ll feel better with that inside you.”

  I could have thrown the cup at her, but instead I took a deep breath then a deep swallow of the wine. “Thank you,” I managed to say eventually.

  I watched Penelope’s clear face as she prepared to speak. “Who do you want? Tyndareus has left the decision up to you, after all. It’s your choice.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Agamemnon told me once that he wanted me as his wife, and I treasured that, and wanted it more than anything else. In a way, I still do. But Tantalus also says he loves me and wants to wed me; and I like him a lot. My mother doesn’t like Agamemnon – not that I would let that sway me if my own mind was clear, but now I don’t know what to do or what I want. Agamemnon could hardly have treated me with less respect. What sort of suitor turns up at the last minute to woo a bride?”

  * * *

  “I thought you’d be here.”

  I turned, mid-movement, his words breaking my concentration on the drill.

  Agamemnon leant against the door frame of the gymnasium. I wondered how long he’d been there, watching me.

  It was very early, sunrise barely a promise in the lightening sky. I had slipped out of
the palace and made my way to the training grounds. I knew none of my suitors were likely to be up, having caroused the night away in the hall.

  I had spent a sleepless night, my thoughts tangled and troubled. Today was the day I would have to give Tyndareus my choice of husband, and I was still no clearer or closer to a decision. I had tried to follow Penelope’s instructions, putting present emotions to one side while I chose for a long-term future, but I had failed to achieve either clarity or peace. At last, in frustration, I had come down to the gymnasium to work out as hard as I could, until physical exhaustion forced my brain back into quietude and discipline.

  I straightened up. “Good morning, Agamemnon.”

  He gave a sort of a grunt and came closer. “Why are you avoiding me?”

  “What makes you think I’m avoiding you? I came down to do some training, that’s all.”

  “I mean last night. You barely said hello. You were all wrapped up with that man from Pisa.”

  I looked at Agamemnon squarely. “Tantalus, that man from Pisa is, as you well know, one of the men competing for my hand in marriage. He has been very attentive and pleasant over the last two weeks.”

  “You’ve already said you would marry me!”

  “Oh, by the gods, Agamemnon, that was over a year ago.” I felt my hold on my temper slipping. “Since that day, I haven’t heard from you. Not one single message. You never asked my father for my hand, and he decided it was time for me to get a husband. What’s so odd about him inviting suitable candidates to make their case known to him? What was I supposed to do? Refuse to obey my father because of something you said a year ago? I believe you were invited to attend as well, but you couldn’t even be bothered to turn up, let alone press your claim. How did I know whether you still wanted me or not? For all I knew, you could have changed your mind.”