Helen of Troy (38 page)

Only then did I look down at my breasts, partially uncovered. I had not finished pinning my up gown when these intruders had arrived. “You came upon us without our knowledge and interrupted—”

“Not
that,
at least!” Paris laughed merrily.

“No. Aphrodite spared us that sight.” Perhaps Paris, not knowing him well, did not hear the sarcasm in Gelanor’s voice, but for me it was insulting. I was shaken and angry that he had found me so quickly; at the same time, his having come this far, I might as well have him with me at Troy. And the fact that he did not wish to come angered me further.

Using makeshift torches in the growing twilight, we found our way back down the hillside to the camp. Little was said as we walked; we were focusing all our attention on our footing as we descended. I took the arm of the old woman to help steady her; it felt as fragile as a brittle, dry stick. Paris held the sack with the snake, cradling it in his arms. He had a fondness for the snake, I knew, because it had favored us—something no one else was likely to do. Gelanor’s stern arrival drove home to me the consequences of my flight; Gelanor was right in that if I returned now, much trouble could be averted. And what awaited us at Troy? Were the Trojans likely to welcome me? They might see me as fair exchange for Hesione, but did anyone in Troy really miss Hesione but her brother?

The men jumped up as we approached. “What’s this?” they cried. Three rushed over to Gelanor and surrounded him with swords. “A surviving pirate?”

Gelanor laughed. “Nothing so wild and scary,” he said. “I am just a craftsman from the court of Sparta. You flatter me, taking me for a pirate.”

They circled him, their blades out. He did seem flattered, as men of the mind always are when they are taken for dangerous men of the sword. “It is true,” he said. He looked toward me to tell them.

“Yes,” I said. “He is from Sparta. He and this woman have chased us here out of loyalty to Menelaus.”

“For a craftsman, you must be an expert sailor,” said the captain, coming over to him, ordering his men to lower their weapons. “This is no easy passage.” “I grew up in Gytheum,” said Gelanor. “My father is a fisherman.”

“Ahh,” said the captain. “I see.”

“Odd how certain skills one thinks forgotten can return in crucial moments,” said Gelanor. “We beached on the other side of the island; the current took us there.”

“Returning will be a different matter,” said the captain. The currents are against you, as are the winds. Unless you have a huge sail and many rowers . . .”

For the first time since I had known him, I saw something take Gelanor by surprise—unpleasant surprise. Had he not considered the return passage? Or had he assumed he could persuade the captain to turn his large ship and take us all back to the mainland? Perhaps he been so bent on his goal he did not think of anything beyond that. What had driven him to pursue us so furiously?

“I will manage,” he said stiffly.

The captain motioned for us all to gather around the fire, which was already blazing. “You are welcome here,” he told Gelanor and Evadne. The wineskin was making its rounds, and someone handed it to Gelanor. He took a deep swallow and passed it on.

Aeneas came over to us. “Who did you find?”

“He found us,” Paris said. “Someone from Helen’s court, coming to take her back. But he wasn’t sent, he just came on his own.”

Aeneas glanced down at him. “Brave man,” he said. “So the alarm hasn’t been raised yet for our flight?”

“Gelanor and this woman left by daybreak, only a few hours after we did. Of course, by now we have been missed—all of us,” I said.

“Who is this man?” asked Aeneas.

A meddler, I thought. My dear friend, too. “He serves as an adviser to Menelaus on many things,” I said. “He is very clever.”

“Well, what sort of things?”

“Oh . . . weaponry, supplies.”

“He’s a military man?”

“No, not a soldier.”

“I don’t understand,” said Aeneas. “If he isn’t a soldier, how would he be expert in soldiering? Why would his advice be valuable?”

“He just knows many things,” I said. “I told you he was clever. I cannot explain it any further than that.”

“We could use such a man in Troy.”

“Exactly what I told him. But he refuses to go. He just wants to return to Sparta.”

“You are a stubborn man, Gelanor,” said Paris, raising his cup to salute him. “But as one myself, I must honor that.” He took a long swallow of wine.

“Is your loyalty to Menelaus so absolute, then?” asked Aeneas.

“My loyalty is to Helen,” he said. “The court at Sparta without her has no hold on me. So I shall search elsewhere for a place to employ my talents.”

“Come to Troy, then!” said Aeneas.

“I said my loyalty was to Helen,” said Gelanor. “I did not say I was owned by Helen, going wherever her fancy took her.”

Suddenly I knew how to reach him. “Gelanor,” I said, “the best service you could do for both Menelaus and me would be to accompany us to Troy and then return to Sparta to report that we have arrived safely. That way you would have seen me to the end of my journey and also stayed loyal to Menelaus, able to set his mind at ease. He will know then exactly what has happened and not be at the mercy of rumor and guessing, and can act accordingly.”

Act accordingly. What might he be moved to do? No matter. The walls of Troy were high and strong. And we would be safe inside them by then.

I took a deep breath and looked into his eyes, innocently, I hoped. “Is this not the most reasonable course of action, the one that will satisfy everyone’s honor?” Reason never failed with him; let it prevail now!

Instead of answering me, he shook his head and made a sound of annoyance, sitting down on the sand and joining the men around the fire. He had not said no. He was delaying his answer. Once he gave his word, I had never heard him change it. “What food are you offering a hungry man?” he asked.

Soon everyone was eating and talking. The men had explored the island during the day, and the captain and some of the soldiers had repaired the damage to the ship from the pirate attack, and hasty landing, making ready to set sail.

“It’s ready, men,” said the captain. “Now the true voyage can begin!”

“The dangerous part, you mean,” said Paris.

“What, weren’t the pirates and the bad current dangerous enough for you?” asked Aeneas.

“It’s all dangerous,” the captain admitted. “But if we are in favor with the gods, we should arrive safely enough in Troy.”

“What route will we take?” Aeneas asked.

“We’ll go from here to the island of Melos—from there to Andros. And from there, Scyros, and then to Chios—”

“Chios?” Gelanor asked.

“Yes, Chios. And then we are right upon Troy. Each jump will involve night sailing again. It’s risky, but there is no other choice. The distance between these islands is too great. And I am thankful for the islands, because without them we would face too long a stretch over open water between here and Troy.” He took a deep draught of wine and wiped his mouth. “So drink up tonight, get your fill of lying on the earth.”

Soon all had drifted away to their sleeping places. Overhead the sky was clear and the stars friendly and white. But out on the open sea, with only blackness under us, how much comfort would we find in them?

XXVIII

T
he winds were brisk when we arose and went down to the beach in the early dawn. “A good sign,” said the captain. “Let us be on our way!” The men were loading the wineskins and sacks of grain on board.

I looked around for Gelanor. But he was not there. I was disappointed but not surprised. More than anything, I was sad I would never see him again. And I worried about his safety in sailing back to Sparta alone. Would he not even speak with me before we parted?

A rustling by my side surprised me, and I turned and saw Evadne, her face almost invisible in the folds of her hood. “The snake and I are coming,” she said. “He would have it no other way.” She patted the bag affectionately. “This morning we were able to catch some mice for him, and that will satisfy him until we reach his new home.”

I was touched that this woman, whom I had barely known all my years in Sparta, was willing to make this journey with me. So she and the snake would be all of my old life that would travel with me. That and the gold and jewels. But the woman and the snake were more precious. “Thank you for coming,” I said.

“Everyone aboard,” ordered the captain, and we filed down to the side of the ship and one by one climbed over the sides and took our places. Just as the last of the soldiers were mounting the ship, someone banged on the side.

“Let me speak to the captain!” Gelanor demanded. I peered out and saw him standing there, cloaked, looking impatient.

“Yes, what is it?” the captain sounded equally impatient. “We must sail straightaway.”

“You said you were going to Chios,” he said.

“Yes, that’s what I said,” he snapped.

“Can you promise that?”

The captain laughed, but it was not a happy laugh. “Ask Poseidon. Only he can promise that.”

“Is it your solemn
intention
to go to Chios, and put in there?”

“Yes, how many times do you need to hear it?”

“All right, then. I shall come.” He jumped up on the boulder the soldiers were using to climb in and joined us. He did not look at me or Paris, but took a seat a distance from us.

What was so special about Chios? I asked myself. Whatever it was, apparently it meant more to him than all my pleas that he come with us. It meant more to him than
me.
I glared at his back. Well, then, let him have Chios and whatever was on it!

The sky lightened and turned a clear ringing blue. We sped across the waves toward Troy.

Oh, that journey, that journey. In it I was suspended between my worlds, outside any world at all, for life on a speeding ship has no bearing on a life elsewhere. Each day held its own wonders, each night its own dangers, and so there was never a moment of feeling less than vibrantly alive. Each day seemed five years’ worth of newness, yet it passed in a flash like a dream.

Our first stint, to Melos, was a very long one, and the wind failed us halfway there. The rowers had to put their strength to the oars and keep rowing at night. As it came into sight at last, the captain warned us that Melos was also a haunt of pirates, who hid in the sea caves at the base of the towering cliffs. But we passed unhindered into the curved, protected bay and beached at last in a fine harbor. Eagerly we climbed out of the confines of the ship and frolicked on land, stretching our limbs and waving our arms and whooping with joy. Paris and I danced a little dance on the sands. Evadne took the snake out of his bag and draped him around her neck and sang. Aeneas challenged Paris to a race along the seashore. Gelanor walked off by himself to inspect the seashells along the tide line.

We stayed there for several days, replenishing our water and exploring the island. I had never seen anything like it—the strange rock formations, and black stone from old volcanoes. Gelanor seemed especially interested in that—he collected shiny sharp pieces of it, saying this was obsidian and it made good knives. “Good when there’s no bronze to be had.” It was almost the only thing he had said to me since we had left Cythera. I made a polite, cool response, and moved away. I was still stinging about his strange turnaround in voyaging with us, and his silence about it.

In contrast to Gelanor, Evadne was very talkative, although she tended to mutter and mumble the way old women often do. I could not tell how old she really was—she seemed Sibyl-like to me and I wondered, truly, how long she had been at Sparta. Could she have been there all the way back to the reign of Oebalus or even Cynortas? She kept her eyes shaded with an overhanging flap of her head covering, saying that the bright light bothered her.

On the third day we were suddenly confronted with a crowd of islanders. The news of our arrival had spread and they came to see us. I was not fast enough in covering my face and so it caused the usual gasps and gapes. We must go before it got worse. So we left the island, thankful that we had filled up the water skins first.