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PART I
Chapter 1
Sparta, The Bronze Age, 1200 BC
In a playful mood, Zeus strode along the banks of the Eurotas River kicking up sprays of sparkling rainbows. He ducked under the falling drops to let a tickling stream roll down his back. He often came to the river on an idle afternoon, and today, he heard a woman singing with a voice as pretty as the songbirds. Her lilting melody drew him around the curve in the riverbank, and he slipped into the reeds to watch the lovely young woman bathe at the river's edge.
Swimming nearby, a regal white swan dipped his head in a silent greeting to the king of gods and Zeus nodded in return. The magnificent bird swam near enough to catch, tempting Zeus with a deliciously provocative idea. In an instant, he became the graceful swan and swam slowly toward the singing bather.
* * *
Leda had escaped her husband's palace and her fawning maids for a few precious moments alone. She had played along the riverbank as a child and sought to recapture the effortless joy before she was missed. The day held a glowing warmth, and she welcomed the water's chill on her bare skin. She turned as she squeezed the moisture from the ends of her long blonde hair and looking up, found a magnificent swan drawing close. A beauty of his kind, he fascinated her, and she remained still so as not to frighten him away.
The magnificent bird spread his wings wide and reached out to stroke her cheek with the tips of his gleaming white feathers before gently brushing the smooth swell of her pale breast as he drew away. He cocked his head to cast a sly look, as though expecting something in return. Tickled by his feathers, Leda laughed and took a backwards step, but he swam closer.
"Clearly you're someone's pretty pet, but I've nothing to feed you," she exclaimed. She slid her fingertips along the bird's gracefully curved neck.
The swan again spread his powerful wings to easily capture her against his breast. Surrounded by his feathery softness, Leda's breath caught in her throat, and the world began to spin. Drawn up into the swan, she felt as though she were flying, floating among the clouds. Lost in the exquisite sensation, she closed her eyes, but what she saw in her mind was not the handsome swan, but radiant Zeus, in all his physical splendor.
It was the god's mouth upon hers, his arms that held her in a fierce hold. She dared not open her eyes and lose such an incredible dream, but when he entered her with a forceful thrust, he felt fiercely real. He flooded her with pleasure so intense it skirted pain and yet she clung to him, wanting still more even if the cost were her life. He kept her cradled in his arms, his feathered wings caressing her very soul until she was too lost in him to remember she belonged to a mortal king.
* * *
Her maids found her seated by the river, stroking her knee with a gorgeous white feather from the swan's wingtip. She stood and endured their fluttering hands as they helped her into her long skirt and bolero, but she gave no excuse for eluding them earlier. As they walked back toward the palace, she turned to gaze at the river, but the swan had vanished, and she doubted she would ever see him again. When she gave birth to a daughter of rare beauty, she knew her as a god's child and named her Helen.
Chapter 2
Sparta, Six years later
The Palace of King Tyndareus
Leda pulled an ivory comb through the tangled ends of Helen's long curly hair. "Be still child. You cannot ride with your brothers looking like a wild creature from the woods."
Helen giggled. "I am a wild creature!"
"No, you are a lovely princess who must learn to behave as one. Today, you may ride with Castor and Pollux, but afterwards you must bathe and dress in finer clothes. You must be a fine lady tonight when we dine together."
Helen skipped away the instant Leda laid her comb aside. "Yes, Mother."
Leda went to the window and waited for her youngest daughter to ride by with her brothers. Helen sat a horse better than either of the boys, and when she was old enough to race, she was sure to beat them. Leda hated to put any limits on her high-spirited daughter and waved as Helen and her brothers rode by heading toward the open fields surrounding the palace. They were such handsome boys, but Helen possessed an awe-inspiring beauty. When she became of an age to wed, suitors would come from near and far to vie for her, but not today while she was still a carefree child.
Clytemnestra entered her mother's room carrying a bolt of linen. "Is this fine enough for us, or should I send the weavers back to their looms?"
Leda's eldest daughter favored her, with silken blonde hair and blue eyes. She was nearly old enough to draw interest from noblemen seeking a bride, and Leda was grateful she would be married and living in her husband's home long before men came calling for Helen. A rivalry simmered between the girls, but Leda kept a close eye on Clytemnestra, whose jealousy sparked most arguments. All thought her a lovely girl, but she went unnoticed whenever Helen stood nearby.
Leda ran her fingers over the cloth. "This is already perfection. Let's see to the dyes."
"Is there enough of the saffron to color this a bright yellow?"
"If that's what you wish, we'll find it." Leda hugged her daughter and turned her thoughts to creating fine garments for her family.
* * *
Helen's roan pony trotted along behind her brothers' showy white mounts, but she soon tired of their dust and took a trail angling toward the almond groves. The trees were filled with fragrant pink blossoms and offered welcoming shade. The boys were supposed to look after her, but they never did, and she did not care a whit. She loved making up adventures as she rode along, pretending to be a goddess riding to her shrine, or the queen she would one day be returning home to palace splendor.
When she saw someone ahead, she pulled back on the reins, but her pony trotted on toward him. He was quite the most beautiful man she had ever seen. He was tall and well muscled with thick, deep auburn hair and eyes of the same unusual bright green as her own. His fine clothing and refined bearing made it impossible for her to mistake him for a field hand.
"Who are you and what are you doing in my father's grove?" she called to him.
Zeus caught her pony's bridle. "I came to see you."
He handed her a red, ripe pomegranate. "Do you use the seeds for dye?"
He was friendly and his tone too reassuring to cause Helen any fear, and she accepted the fruit and weighed it between her hands. "Thank you. I would rather eat them, but I do love their deep red for cloth. Now why have you come to see me?"
He smiled and scratched her pony's neck. "I'm a dear friend of your mother's, but you mustn't tell her we've met, or she'll be insulted I didn't tarry to see her. Are you good at keeping secrets?"
A bright twinkle lit his gaze and made her laugh. "Maybe, maybe not. How did you come here, have you no horse or chariot?"
"I have them, but today felt like a walk. You're a very smart little girl, are you not?"
"My father fears I'm too smart. Do you know him too?"
"Tyndareus? I know who he is, and he knows me. You must not tell him you have seen me either."
"How can I tell him? You've not given me your name?" She turned in her saddle. "I hear my brothers calling. They seldom notice when I've gone astray. Do you wish to speak to them too?"
Zeus moved close and brushed her cheek with a tender kiss. "I came to see you, dear child. Now go before they reach us and remember not to tell."
She lifted her hand to shade her eyes and raised up to gauge how far away the boys were. When she turned back, the fine-looking stranger had vanished. She pressed the pomegranate to her breast and vowed never to ever tell a single soul they'd met.
Chapter 3
Mount Olympus, Home of the Gods
