‘I am born of this land, I am born of this very room. I am the Queen. My children are here.’ I brushed my tears away.

‘Helen, you belong to Aphrodite, just as I do! Once I swore a solemn oath to her, to give her everything – I abrogated Here and Pallas Athene in her favour if she would grant me whatever I asked. And all I ask of her is you.’

‘I cannot leave!’

‘You cannot stay. I will not be here.’

‘Oh, I love you! How can I live without you?’

‘There’s no question of living without me, Helen.’

‘You ask the impossible,’ I wept, tears falling ever faster.

‘Nonsense! What’s so difficult? Leaving your children?’

That gave me pause; I answered honestly. ‘Not really. No. The trouble is, they’re so plain! They take after Menelaos, right down to their hair. And they’re freckled.’

‘Then if it’s not your children, it must be Menelaos.’

Was it? No. Poor, downtrodden, dominated Menelaos, ruled with a hand of iron from Mykenai. What did I owe him after all? I had never wanted to marry him. I owed him no more than I owed his beetle-browed brother, that forbidding man who used us like pieces in some monumental game. Agamemnon cared nothing for me – my wants, my needs, my feelings.

I said, ‘I will come to Troy with you. There is nothing for me here. Nothing.’

7

NARRATED BY

Hektor

The harbour master at Sigios sent word to me that Paris’s fleet had returned from Salamis at last; when I joined the day’s assembly I sent a page to whisper the news to my father. It was the usual wearisome, leisurely audience – disputes over property, slaves, land and so forth – an embassage from Babylon to be received – a complaint about grazing rights from our noble relatives in Dardania, put forward as always by Uncle Antenor.

The Babylonian embassage had been dealt with and dismissed and the King was about to deliver judgement on some trifling matter when the horns blared and Paris strutted into the Throne Room. I could not help smiling at his appearance; he had gone Cretan with a vengeance. The complete dandy, from his bullion-fringed purple kilt to his jewels and curls. He looked very well and very pleased with himself. What mischief had he been up to, to look like a jackal getting to the kill ahead of the lion? Of course our father was gazing at him with doting favour – how could a man wise enough to sit upon a throne be so blinded by mere charm and beauty?

Paris strolled down the length of the hall to the dais and was already settling himself on the top step as I drew near. That incurable stickybeak Antenor was also edging up within hearing distance. I went to stand openly beside the throne.

‘Have you good news, my son?’ the King asked.

‘Not about Aunt Hesione,’ said Paris, shaking his head, his ringlets bouncing. ‘King Telamon was courteous to me, but made it very clear that he will not give up Aunt Hesione.’

The King stiffened dangerously. How deep did that old hatred go? Why, even after so many years, did Father continue to be implacably turned against Greece? The hiss of his indrawn breath silenced the whole room.

‘How dare he! How dare Telamon insult me! Did you see your aunt, have the chance to speak with her?’

‘No, Father.’

‘Then I curse them all!’ He reared his head at the roof and closed his eyes. ‘O mighty Apollo, Lord of Light, Ruler of Sun and Moon and Stars, grant me the chance to bring down Greek pride!’

I leaned over the throne. ‘Sire, calm yourself! Surely you expected no other answer?’

Twisting his head to see me, he opened his eyes. ‘No, I suppose not. Thank you, Hektor. As always you draw my attention to cold reality. But why should the Greeks have it all, tell me that? Why should they be able to kidnap a Trojan princess?’

Paris put his hand on Father’s knee, tapped it gently. Gazing down at him, the King’s face softened.

‘Father, I have fittingly punished Greek arrogance,’ said Paris, eyes brilliant.

I had been about to move away, but something in his tone arrested me.

‘How, my son?’

‘An eye for an eye, sire! An eye for an eye! The Greeks stole your sister, so I have brought you a prize out of Greece greater by far than any fifteen-year-old girl!’ He jumped to his feet, so full of himself that he couldn’t bear to sit at King Priam’s feet a moment longer. ‘Sire,’ he cried, his voice ringing round the rafters, ‘I have brought you Helen! Queen of Lakedaimon, wife to Menelaos the brother of Agamemnon and sister to Agamemnon’s queen, Klytemnestra!’

I reeled in shock, unable to find words. That was a tragedy, for it gave Uncle Antenor the chance to get in first. He leaped forward, the swollen joints of his hands making them seem like huge, misshapen claws.

‘You stupid, ignorant, meddling fool!’ Antenor roared. ‘You pansy-faced philanderer! Why didn’t you really make it worth your while, kidnap Klytemnestra herself? The Greeks lie down meekly enough under our trade embargoes and their own shortages of tin and copper, but do you expect them to lie down under this as well? You fool! You’ve handed Agamemnon the opportunity he has waited years for! You’ve plunged us into a conflagration that will be the ruin of Troy! You brainless, conceited idiot! Why didn’t your father expose you? Why didn’t he stop your profligate career before it started? By the time that we have reaped all the consequences of this, no Trojan will utter your name without spitting!’

Half of me applauded the old man silently; he voiced my sentiments exactly. Yet I cursed Uncle Antenor too. What might my father have decided if he had held his tongue? Where Antenor found fault, the King inclined to favour. No matter what Father thought privately, Antenor had pushed him onto Paris’s side.

Paris was standing thunderstruck. ‘Father, I did it for you!’ he beseeched.

Antenor sneered. ‘Oh, yes, of course you did! And have you forgotten the most famous of all our oracles? “Beware the woman taken out of Greece as a prize for Troy!” Doesn’t that speak for itself?’

‘No, I did not forget it!’ my brother shouted. ‘Helen is no prize! She came with me willingly! She wasn’t the victim of an abduction, she came with me willingly because she wants to marry me! And as evidence of that, she brought a great treasure with her – gold and jewels enough to buy a kingdom! A dowry, Father, a dowry!’ He giggled. ‘I did the Greeks a far worse insult than to kidnap a queen – I cuckolded them!’

Antenor looked done. Shaking his white thatch slowly, he slunk back into the ranks of the Court. Paris was gazing at me urgently, imploringly.

‘Hektor, support me!’

‘How can I do that?’ I asked through my teeth.

He turned, slipped to his knees and wrapped both arms about the King’s legs. ‘What harm can possibly come of it, Father?’ he wheedled. ‘When has the voluntary flight of a woman ever meant war? Helen comes of her own free will! Nor is she a green girl! Helen is twenty years old! She has been married for six years – she has children! And can you imagine how terrible her life must have been, to leave a kingdom and her children behind? Father, I love her! And she loves me!’ His voice broke pathetically, the tears began to fall.

Tenderly the King touched Paris’s hair, stroked it, patted it. ‘I will see her,’ he said.

‘No, wait!’ Antenor came forward again. ‘Sire, before you see this woman, I insist that you hear me! Send her home, Priam, send her home! Send her back to Menelaos sight unseen – send her back with sincere apologies, all the treasure she has brought with her, and a recommendation that her head be separated from her neck. She deserves nothing less. Love! What kind of love can leave children behind? Doesn’t that say something? She brings Troy a great treasure, but not her children!’

My father wouldn’t look at him, but he must have known how the rest of us were feeling, for he made no attempt to stop the tirade. So Antenor swept on.