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Paris leaped from his horse and told the accompanying warriors to dismount and rest. He plucked his mother off her feet and gave her a lively turn before setting her down gently. "I've come home with my wife, Helen," he announced proudly. He handed his mother the basket they'd carried. "I've brought some treats from the city, superb wine, fine olive oil, and delicious little nut cakes."
Helen waited for him to grasp her waist and help her dismount. "I hope you like what we've brought, if there are other things you need, please tell us, and we'll bring them on our next visit."
Sotiria turned her attention to the contents of the basket rather than stare at her son's remarkably beautiful bride. "I didn't think you were ready to take a wife."
"Neither did I until I met Helen. Isn't she lovely?"
"Paris spoils me with compliments," Helen responded. "You've raised a wonderfully bright and thoughtful son."
His mother bobbed her head. "Your father is at the corral. Go and tell him you're here."
Paris circled the cottage at a swift jog, and Helen followed this second mother-in-law inside. She'd ridden by such small dwellings her whole life, but she'd never been invited inside one. The home was neatly kept. Windows let in the afternoon light and fresh air, but the aroma of garlic lingered. A table held jars of foodstuffs and utensils, a brazier was laid with wood for a fire, and sleeping pallets were rolled up against the far wall in readiness for the night. There were two crudely fashioned chairs, and when Paris's mother offered one, she sat down.
"Paris refers to you as Mother," Helen began. "I don't believe I've ever heard him say your name."
"It's Sotiria," she responded. She placed the basket on the table and unwrapped their gifts with a near reverent touch. "We've not seen Paris in many weeks."
"He's been traveling," Helen replied. When Paris returned with his father, she was relieved she'd not have to explain more, when their story was a scandal from beginning to end.
Agelaus crossed the threshold and upon seeing Helen, stopped as abruptly as Sotiria had. "We'd not heard of your betrothal, but good news is slow to reach us."
"We've brought wine to celebrate with you, and new cups."
"We have more than one clay kylix," Agelaus replied crossly.
That testy response surprised Paris, and he raised his hands in a helpless gesture. "I meant no insult. I was anxious for you to meet Helen. Should I have sent one of my warriors ahead to tell you that we were coming?"
Agelaus laughed at the thought, and Sotiria shot him a dark glance. "I'd rather not see the kings' warriors for any reason, so come and surprise us whenever you can."
Paris towered over Agelaus, and Helen wondered how he could have accepted the herder as his father. There was obvious love between them, but she couldn't imagine Paris being happy in such simple surroundings. They didn't remain long and had gotten away without being forced to relate how they'd met.
She raised her hand to her bare throat and missed the beautiful necklace Paris had made for her with the exquisite red stone she'd found. It was far too expensive a keepsake to wear while riding, or on a visit to a small village where no one would own such a treasure.
Even if news travelled slowly from the city to the countryside, by their next visit, Sotiria and Agelaus undoubtedly would have heard how she'd fled Sparta with their son. Clearly they would forgive Paris anything, and excuse him for being in love, but when she'd abandoned her family, would they be so generous with her? She sincerely doubted it.
* * *
Sotiria stood in the doorway and watched them ride away. She shivered and rubbed her arms. "What did you think of her?"
Agelaus stepped around her to return to the corral. "I fear I couldn't think at all. With such a lovely bride, we'll not see Paris often."
"Or maybe never again," she murmured under her breath. "It will break Oenone's heart when she learns Paris has wed another."
"He's now a prince. How could she have believed he'd come back for her?" Agelaus mused sadly. "She'll marry someone from the village and be happy enough."
"Maybe." She waited until the son she'd raised had vanished from sight, and unable to enter the cottage that now seemed much too small, she went out to her garden and yanked weeds from the ground with a fierce grasp.
* * *
Paris noted Helen's pensive frown and feared she'd not enjoyed their brief visit to his home. "They were surprised to see us. They'll be more hospitable the next time we're there."
"I thought they were lovely people," she countered. "It's simply difficult to imagine your growing up as a herdsman's son."
He took a moment to gather his thoughts. "I always felt, no knew, there had to be more, but I never expected how greatly my life would change. No man could have imagined someone as perfect as you."
She could think of many ways she might be described, but perfection wasn't among them. "I also sensed there was more to life than what I knew. Maybe we recognized that longing in each other."
He glanced over his shoulder and Kastros waved to him. "If we were alone, I'd take you under the trees beside the trail. You're a fire in my blood, Helen, and I'll never have enough of you."
