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He brought her fingertips to his lips. "Nevertheless, a clever man will know how to seduce his bride."
"Unfortunately, few men are as clever as you, beloved." She relaxed in his arms and escaped into the moment and left the decision unmade.
* * *
On a warm spring afternoon, Helen danced at the temple of Artemis alongside the Eurotas River with her mother, other noble women and their young daughters. The rhythms were as familiar as a heartbeat and growing overly warm, she slipped away to drink from the river. A boat came into view paddled by perhaps twenty men. The blue prow painted with owl's eyes gave the ship a regal presence, and she thought it must carry a king. When the boat neared shore and a gray-haired man leaped over the side, she realized too late she stood nude on the riverbank, and she hurried to hide among the reeds.
In his youth, Theseus had slain the bull-headed monster Minotaur on Crete, and lack of courage had never stopped him from taking whatever he desired. The King of Athens was now an aged widower with too many sad memories. He needed only a glimpse of an extraordinarily beautiful young maiden to know he had to make her his. When she ran from him, he overtook her and threw her to the ground.
Helen fought him fiercely but he was too strong to throw off, and he covered her mouth with his hand to stifle her piercing scream. She struggled as long as she could, but when he laid his arm over her throat and pressed down hard, she lost consciousness and lay limp beneath him.
Without a thought to her welfare, Theseus followed the wild song in his blood to ravage her with brutal thrusts. Desperate to keep her, he wrapped her in his cloak and carried her to his ship. He called to his crew to make haste, and they paddled the ship out into the swiftly flowing river.
Missing Helen, Omalu came down to the river in time to see the ship racing away. "Helen!" she called. She searched the reeds hoping to find her hiding, but found only the matted spot where Theseus had thrown her. She ran screaming toward the temple, fearing they would never see Helen again.
* * *
Theseus took Helen to his hill fortress of Aphidna, near Dekeleia. Her arms and legs were bruised from his firm hold on her. She'd been terrified the whole voyage that he'd give her to his men for sport. Worn out from worry and lack of sleep, she was so furiously angry she refused to look at him. In her mind, he did not exist, and she vowed to do whatever she must to survive and return home.
He had announced his name proudly, and caressed her curls, but she batted away his hand. "You're so lovely," he whispered. "I know you must be Tyndareus' daughter, Helen. No one ever speaks of your temper. In time, you'll grow fond of me."
"Never!" Her throat was bruised from his choking hold, making her voice low and hoarse. She kept a firm grip on his cloak to keep herself covered and turned her back on him.
"Never is a very long time," he replied with a deep laugh. He had brought her to a mountain fortress near Athens rather than his palace, and the only women in residence worked in the kitchen. He summoned one to serve as her maid and to escort her to a room on the second floor. She was a tall thin girl with frizzy black hair tied back with a cloth braid. Her brown eyes appeared enormous while her nose and mouth were too small for her face. She looked thoroughly confused by Theseus' command, and when she took Helen's arm, the Spartan princess refused to budge.
Theseus waved the girl aside. "I'll carry you myself. You weigh so little you'll be no burden." Helen remained stiff in his arms, and he could barely manage the task.
They passed no beautiful frescos, nor finely painted rafters and columns. Helen saw only the cold ambition that had built the forbidding fortress of giant cyclopean boulders and cared not at all for Theseus' wealth and power. No king who raped young women would ever be admired, and she studied the chamber where he had taken her searching for a way out. The window was too narrow to climb through, and too far above the ground below to be of any use whatsoever. The wide corded bed was a grim reminder of how he had brutalized her by the river, and she moved as far away from it as she could.
"You'll want to bathe and new clothing will be found for you. Don't despair, Helen, you'll be well-treated here," he promised.
Her spine remained as stiff as a cedar tree's trunk. "If you'd ever wished to treat me well, I wouldn't be here."
He softened his voice, "How can you be unaware of your great allure? Forgive me, I'm a captive of your beauty."
Helen turned to spit at him, but he had already moved through the door, and the hinges squeaked as he swung it closed behind him. "Bastard," she fumed. She had been barely conscious for most of the journey to this miserable ugly fortress and was uncertain where they had beached the boat. She went to the window; hungry for the sight of anything resembling home, but the mountains surrounding the cursed fortress were unfamiliar.
Servants loved to talk, and gossip spread faster than a wildfire over dry fields, so her whereabouts would soon be discovered. Someone would come for her; one of the men her mother swore longed to marry her, or her father himself. All she had to do was wait. She scratched a mark in the stone beside the window with her thumbnail. She would count the days, and find ways to humiliate Theseus at every opportunity.
She had often been reminded she would one day be a queen, and she would act the part now. She paced the room, the oversized cloak swinging out behind her, her furious anger burning clear to her toes.
* * *
The girl from the kitchen brought in a wooden tub for her to bathe and followed with amphoras of hot water. More frightened than eager to serve, she quickly bolted out the door. She had dropped soap and a thin towel on the floor, and Helen debated whether or not to use them. Finally deciding she would rather scrub off Theseus' stench than hope to offend him by being unclean, she tossed aside his cloak and stepped into the tub.
There was a beautiful room with murals of diving dolphins in which to bathe at home, and tears stung her eyes as she thought of how far away she must be. She cursed Theseus with every breath and hurried to finish before he returned. The maid had not brought the promised clothing, and she ripped the wool blanket from the bed to wear rather than don the cloak stained with her virgin's blood.
Her mother had told her the bodies of men and women were created to fit together perfectly. Boys trained and wr
estled naked so she knew how men were made, but she had never expected her virginity would be stolen rather than taken tenderly. Warlords kept women captives in their beds, but she was no prize of war.
She was forced to use the bed as the only comfortable place to sit. She huddled with her back against the wall, linked her arms around her knees, and waited for a chance to call Theseus a swine.
She was too disgusted by her dismal situation to be hungry, but when the girl brought her a bowl of mutton stew, some bread and wine in a stemmed clay kylix inscribed with an owl, she thought it would be wise to eat rather than risk becoming too weak to survive. She dunked bits of the thick-crusted bread in the stew and chewed slowly, but the flavorless meal compared very poorly to what their cooks prepared in her father's palace. A fortress would be home to warriors rather than a noble family, and perhaps they were satisfied with warm and plentiful food and cared little how it tasted. She tried, but could eat only a small portion of what she had been given and set the bowl by the door. She sipped the wine, and wished it were pure, sweet water.
At sunset, the light in the room grew dim. The girl returned to collect the tray, empty the tub and remove it, but she failed to light the fire on the brazier or to bring an oil lamp. Helen sat on the bed, closely wrapped in the blanket and wished Theseus dead. If he thought he could bore her into welcoming his wretched company, he had made a grave error. She had always spent much of her time alone, and preferred it now.
The frayed hem of blanket inspired her to rip off a strip and tie a few knots to create a doll warrior. She held it tightly in her hand and imaged herself adorned in shiny bronze armor holding a sharp short sword she'd swiftly thrust through Theseus's heart.
