HELEN: The Wine Dark Sea

By Phoebe Conn

The willful daughter of Zeus and a mortal queen, she's the beautiful wife of the Spartan king.

But her great love for the lost Trojan prince will beget bloody devastation, and spill her tears into the Wine-Dark Sea.

ALSO BY PHOEBE CONN:
The Hearts of Liberty, in series order
Savage Destiny
Defiant Destiny
Forbidden Destiny
Wild Destiny
Scarlet Destiny

Hearts of California, in series order
Hearts of Gold
No Sweeter Ecstasy
Tempt Me With Kisses

Star Pilot Series, in order
Outlaw Rising
Starfire Rising
Cyborg Rising

• Language: English
• Publisher: ePublishing Works
• Release date: Apr 12, 2016
• ISBN: 9781614178446

Phoebe Conn

Phoebe Conn Bio Always a passionate lover of books, this New York Times bestselling author first answered a call to write in 1980 and swiftly embarked on her own mythic journey. Her first book, LOVE’S ELUSIVE FLAME, was a Zebra historical in 1983. Her 33rd book, a contemporary, DEFY THE WORLD TOMATOES was a November 2010 release from Samhain. Her 34th, WHERE DREAMS BEGIN, debuted at #1 on Samhain’s Romantic Suspense bestsellers list in June, 2011. With more than seven million copies in print of her historical, contemporary and futuristic books written under her own name as well as her pseudonym, Cinnamon Burke, she is as enthusiastic as ever about writing. A native Californian, Phoebe attended the University of Arizona and California State University at Los Angeles where she earned a BA in Art History and an MA in Education. Her books have won Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice Awards and a nomination for Storyteller of the Year. Her futuristic, STARFIRE, won a RomCom award as best Futuristic Romance of the year. She is a member of Romance Writers of America, Novelists Inc., PEN, AWritersWork.com and Backlistebooks.com. She is the proud mother of two grown sons and one adorable grandson, who loves to have her read to him.

Book preview

Authors

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

Zeus's golden chariot was drawn by winged white stallions, and when they soared to cloud-crowned Mount Olympus, he found Hera anxiously awaiting him at his palace. Beloved, he greeted his wife with a lingering kiss.

Where have you been? she asked peevishly. Does it take an endless number of mortal maids to satisfy you?

They don't compare to you, he teased and drew her close.

She placed her hands on his chest, and his warmth tingled her fingertips. That's true, but it's never enough for you, is it?

You are more than enough, and I haven't been out seducing pretty maidens. You doubt me too often, Hera, and it isn't becoming.

Would you mind if I walked the Earth seducing princes and kings?

Zeus stepped back, scowled and rested his fists on his hips. Of course I would, and I'd kill them before they drew a breath to brag of it.

Her lush body curved in a graceful sway. And you expect me to be less harsh?

I'll admit to a weakness for women, but none is as lovely as you, so you've no reason to be jealous. Today, I was merely walking through Sparta and enjoying the beauty of an almond grove in flower.

Hera's striking blue eyes narrowed. More likely the female kind of blossom.

Zeus laughed. I'm innocent of any crime, my dearest, don't make me guilty in your mind.

She swept him with a skeptical gaze. Innocent for today, perhaps.

He again pulled her close and nuzzled her creamy smooth throat. Isn't today enough?

Chapter 4

Sparta

The Palace of King Tyndareus

Leda led the curly-haired, dark-skinned little girl into Helen's room. Look what I've brought you. Omalu is a present from your father, and while she's young, she'll soon grow to be your favorite maidservant. You must treat her kindly while she learns how to please you.

Helen had been knotting scraps of fabric to form little people she could line up and toss about. I'd rather have another pony.

I said you will be kind, Leda emphasized. You need Omalu to look after your pretty clothes. She'll see your room is in proper order rather than scattered with twigs and bark and whatever else you carry home from your rides. What is it you're doing now?

Helen waved a fabric doll in the air. I'm a goddess and these are my people. If they fail to obey me, I rip them to shreds.

Appalled, Leda raised her hand to her breast. Please choose a goddess who is not so fierce. Artemis loves to hunt. Why not fashion some fabric deer and have Artemis catch them. Let Omalu help you.

The little girl took a small step forward.

Can you tie a knot? Helen asked, and separated some scraps for her.

Omalu nodded and climbed up on the end of Helen's bed. She was smaller than the pretty princess, but older by a year, and had big, brown eyes. She twisted a piece of yellow linen before tying knots and left a portion at the end for hair. She held it up, and Helen took it from her.

Look, Helen cooed. She knows how to make hair!

A piece of rope with a frayed end will look even better, Omalu offered shyly.

Rope? Helen's face lit with excitement. Come, let's find some.

Leda stood back and Helen sprinted from the room with Omalu hurrying along behind. Clytemnestra had been such a sweet, calm little girl and so much easier to raise, while Helen provoked her so often she provided a continual challenge. She'd not imagined how quickly her headstrong little daughter would draw Omalu into her endless mischief.

* * *

Late that night when Leda was alone with her husband, she coiled her arm through his. We must begin thinking of suitable husbands for our daughters. Clytemnestra will be a lovely wife for any nobleman, but Helen will need someone extraordinary.

Highly amused, Tyndareus laughed and patted her hand. It's too soon to have contests for the girls, but I'll think on whom to urge to enter. There are sure to be many who'll want Clytemnestra, but Helen is so beautiful, men may compete for her for years.

Leda rested her head on his shoulder. Clytemnestra must be wed first.

Of course, she's the eldest and nearly as beautiful as her mother. Now come to my bed and remind me why I fought so hard to win you.

She licked her lips and smiled. We were both fortunate. He trusted her so completely he had never doubted Helen was his, but she would never forget how Zeus, clothed in glorious white feathers, had blessed her.

* * *

The following afternoon, Castor and Pollux found Helen and Omalu playing in the dirt at the edge of the vineyard. All they saw were short lengths of rope tied with rags, scattered sticks and smooth stones from the river. What are you playing? Castor asked.

Helen looked up at her brothers. We've made people of rope, horses with sticks, and the stones are ships. Omalu and I are fighting a battle, and my side is winning.

Castor squatted down beside her. He lifted a frayed chunk of rope. Is this a mighty warrior?

Yes, he is, see the horsehair crest on his bronze helmet?

Pollux laughed. All I see is a mess that should be swept away.

Castor regarded the scene more thoughtfully. No, this is definitely the site of a battle, and we ought to make our own rope warriors and practice planning strategy. Sparta has many enemies, and we'll have need of such skills when we're grown.

You want to play in the dirt? Pollux scoffed.

Helen used a bit of fabric to tie stick legs on another little twig horse. If you see only dirt rather than a battlefield, go away and leave us be.

Castor sat and reached into the pile of rope for a piece. I'll stay.

Pollux walked away muttering unflattering things about his brother under his breath.

Helen laughed. You are my favorite brother, Castor. You must have always known it.

He touched her cheek lightly. You must keep it a secret or Pollux will be jealous and give me no peace.

She placed the new little horse with the others. I'm very good at keeping secrets.

I doubt you have any worth telling.

She smiled to herself. You'll never know. Now we must begin again once you've made your soldiers.

He reached for a few of hers. What if I just capture these fine warriors here?

She swatted his hand. You may not capture my men until you have some of your own. It's not fair.

Do you think war is fair? he asked.

There must be rules, she argued. Besides, you have joined my game and must do as I say.

Amused, he glanced to the vast expanse of vivid blue sky overhead. Mother has raised you to be a queen, but that day hasn't yet arrived. He worked on fraying and knotting his bits of rope as he talked, and they began the game anew as soon as he was ready.

* * *

By the next afternoon, Pollux became sufficiently intrigued to join in. He shoved dirt into bumpy hills, dug a hole and filled it with water for a sea. This should look like a real battlefield, he announced. We should have a pyre for the dead.

Rope warriors can't die, Helen countered. They get up to fight again and again, like the gods.

Burning any would be a waste of good rope, Castor added.

The game had grown to the point Tyndareus came out to observe accompanied by a red-haired young man who viewed them with good-natured amusement. You need to make tents for the warlords, Tyndareus got down on one knee to gesture with a grand sweep of his hand.

He looked up. This is Menelaus, Agamemnon's brother. He's come to look at our horses. What do you think, do they need more than tents to make this site true?

Menelaus knelt beside Helen. Do you often play in the dirt with your brothers?

Helen swept her hair out of her eyes with a small part of her arm that still remained clean. They are playing with me. I began the game with Omalu and Castor wanted to play. Now Pollux has deigned to join us.

Menelaus laughed as the boys shrugged to admit they were indeed playing her game. How old are you, sweet child?

Helen is six, Tyndareus answered. He noticed how closely Menelaus regarded her, and growing uneasy, he rose and stretched to his full height. We meant to look at horses rather than play with my children. He took a step in the direction of the stables and Menelaus got to his feet and followed.

Castor waited until the men could not overhear. He wants you, Sister.

She moved a rope warrior onto his stick horse. He wants me for what?

Pollux laughed at the innocence of her question. At last we know something Helen doesn't.

Helen eyed him coolly. Maybe it's not worth knowing.

We'll have to wait and see, Pollux replied, and he went for another pot of water to refill his newly created sea.

* * *

Leda shook her head as her maidservants scrubbed Helen clean for the second night in a row. You're dirty to the ends of your hair. How did making little rope dolls inspire you to play at war?

Helen held out her arms, and the soapy water dripped off her fingertips into the large terracotta tub. They were rope warriors, what else would they do?

And your brothers encouraged you. I'm angry with them too.

Who's scrubbing them? Helen asked.

They can wash themselves, Leda argued, so everyone will be clean for tonight's meal. Menelaus could not make up his mind on a horse, so he's staying the night.

Castor said he wants me. What does that mean?

Leda bit her lip. It means only that he thinks beneath the dust, you are a very pretty little girl. Do not speak to him alone, Helen. You must never be alone with any man. Do you understand me?

Helen thought of the handsome man who had given her the pomegranate. It had to have been all right to be with him. She gazed up at her mother with a charming, innocent gaze. I understand. But she really did not.

* * *

Tyndareus, Menelaus, Castor and Pollux ate in the andron where they would talk about horses half the night, while Helen, her mother, and Clytemnestra, ate on the second floor of the palace where Leda had her rooms. Helen was hungry and chewed the last savory morsel from a rib. Her mother and sister were talking about the quality of a new weaver's work, and she soon grew bored with their conversation and asked to be excused. The instant her mother gave a slight nod, she bolted from the table and went to her room.

Omalu had eaten with the other servants and was seated on the end of Helen's bed creating a doll with a many-colored skirt. I'm making a queen for you.

Helen watched her twist and tie scraps to form a doll larger than any of the others they had made. I like her, but we must leave her here in my room rather than take her outside to our battlefield where she'd soon become dirty.

The queen belongs on her throne, not on the battlefield, Omalu offered.

Helen climbed up on the bed. I know, but if I were a queen, I'd don gleaming bronze armor and lead the warriors into battle myself.

Omalu laughed. You wouldn't be strong enough to hold a sword.

I will be when the time comes, Helen promised. You'll see. She stretched her legs over the side of the bed and wiggled her toes. Maybe I'll urge them on from the back of my horse.

A good plan, the little maidservant agreed, and Helen giggled with her.

Chapter 5

Sparta

Palace of King Tyndareus

Five years later

Helen held her twined basket close as she moved through the field of saffron crocuses. The pretty lavender flowers were cultivated not for their beauty, but for their three bright red stigmas. Dried for spice, the stigmas also made a vivid yellow dye. Clytemnestra loved to wear flounced skirts dyed in every shade of yellow from pale to bright as the sun. Helen wore purple, or pomegranate red. She loved dark, deep colors, while her sister craved only the light.

Omalu followed closely behind, watching for the stigmas Helen missed or dropped. She used far more care and could remove the stigmas from a blossom without leaving a shattered bloom. Helen used the same brisk yank she would use to pluck feathers from a goose.

We must be gentle, the dark-eyed girl admonished, or your mother won't let us come.

Helen glanced over her shoulder. She'd waited impatiently for the chance to walk in these fields, but now that she was eleven years old and the day had finally arrived, she felt only hot and sweaty rather than proud. I'm not certain it would be a punishment.

Omalu shook her head. You complain if you are left out and now aren't happy to be included.

Clytemnestra and her friends were moving far ahead on an adjacent path. They were singing as they pranced along, clearly enjoying themselves. I'm beginning to believe this drudgery is called fun to fool us into doing it. Helen stretched to ease the ache in her back.

Omalu had to wait for her mistress to move forward. I'm grateful to have something new to do.

Helen pushed herself on down the row and plucked the stigmas from the next bloom with exaggerated care. Is this better, Omalu?

Oh yes, a tender touch works best. Ease the stigmas from the flowers so they won't be crushed between your fingers.

Helen waved her hand above the next crocus. Is this too gentle?

Yes! Hurry, we must work more quickly or the amount in our baskets won't compare to what Clytemnestra and her friends gather.

I really don't care, Helen replied. She had always preferred her brothers' company to her sister's, and after suffering through a day of gathering saffron, she would much rather be on horseback than strolling these fragrant fields.

* * *

Helen clenched her fists at her sides as her mother fit a colorful tiered skirt around her waist. Clytemnestra is the one dancing in Artemis' temple, why must I go along?

So you'll know what to expect when it's your turn to dance. Your sister is old enough to wed, and we wish to dance and celebrate. Your turn will come in its own time.

Her mother had begun teaching her to dance as soon as she could walk. Clytemnestra had laughed at her lack of grace, but she was now old enough to perform the rhythmic steps and slow turns with a winsome charm, but she never lost herself in the softly strummed lyre music the way other girls so easily did. It was no longer enough simply to raise her arms and twirl in a lazy circle as she had as a child. Silent praise and prayers for a goddess were supposed to come with every step, and her mind tended to wander.

They would soon leave for the sanctuary devoted to Artemis overlooking the river Eurotas. Artemis was the Virgin Huntress, protector of mothers and their children. Once there, the women and girls would dance nude, but they would make their way to the temple wearing finely fashioned skirts befitting their status. Helen reached for Omalu's hand and skipped along behind Leda and Clytemnestra, delighted to think her sister would soon be wed and gone away for good.

* * *

The afternoon was pleasantly warm, the music of the flutes and lyres wafted across the sylvan landscape enticing Helen and the other little girls to dance on the grass. Stately cedar trees flanked the temple, and the temple's tapered columns were cedar as well surrounding the dancers with the wood's pungent aroma. Helen wove in and out of the other girls and then hopped in a circle around them. She made up steps of her own and as long as she did not bump into anyone, she heard no complaints. There were more giggles from the girls outside than prayers. Pretending to be Artemis in pursuit of prey, she pulled back the string of an imaginary bow and let an invisible arrow fly. It was much less effort than praying, and as close as she could come to reverence.

When they stopped dancing to drink from the river, Helen filled her mouth with the cool water and leaned back to gargle tickling bubbles in her throat. The other little girls stared at her wide-eyed, a couple laughed, but Omalu frowned and shook her head.

You could at least pretend to be good, the maidservant urged. Or I fear when it comes time for you to marry, no suitable man will want you.

Unconcerned, Helen tossed her curly hair and ran back to the temple to join in the next lilting melody. Her brothers played the lyre, and Castor had given her a few lessons, but given up when she showed minimal talent. She could play a few notes on the diaolos, the double flute, and beat a drum if no one were particular about having a rhythm. Thank goodness, girls were not expected to be fine musicians. For the afternoon, she was content to dance with her own playful steps, and let her mind move freely in her own inner world.

When they all grew dizzy and tired, Helen lay down on her discarded skirt alongside Omalu. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. The mothers and their older daughters were still dancing inside the glowing temple, and the music floated outside around them in soft waves. Helen slept deeply, and her dreams were strange and sweet. When Leda woke her, she sat up and rubbed her eyes.

I had the most wonderful dream about flying horses. They were white as milk and had enormous wings that lifted them into the clouds. Does Artemis own such a splendid mount?

Leda wrapped the skirt around Helen's narrow hips and combed the fringed hem with her fingertips. No, it is Zeus who owns a pair of beautiful flying horses, they're called Pegasai. They pull his golden chariot across the sky.

The heavens had dimmed in the gathering dusk, but Helen swept the sky overhead in a quick search. Have you seen him coursing by?

Leda would never reveal just how close she had come to Zeus, but she had not seen his chariot that wondrous day. No, but his chariot flies above the clouds when he's on his way to Mt. Olympus, and no mortals are able to see him.

Helen frowned unhappily. If I did by some chance, would he give me one of his fine winged horses?

I don't believe so, for how could he return home to Mt. Olympus?

He would still have one flying horse to ride. She followed her mother and Clytemnestra along the path to the palace. Their bare feet patted the dirt with a softer step than earlier in the day. Lost in the memory of the fantastic dream, she failed to notice how often Clytemnestra looked over her shoulder and frowned.

* * *

I don't want you to be burned by the sun. Although you are nearly as tanned as our servants. I should keep you inside until you are as fair as a royal maiden should be. Leda pulled a long tunic over Helen's head. You may watch the races from the roof terrace, but you may not run about among the horses. Do you hear me? You must not risk being trampled.

This is Clytemnestra's day, Helen replied. No one will look at me no matter where I stand.

Leda blessed her young daughter's innocence. You must still be careful. Men wish to impress your sister with their strength and wealth. There will be contests, and many presents, and your father will choose the very best man to be her husband. In time a fine husband will also be found for you. A man who is a great rider, of course, you would never be content with a man who sat a horse poorly.

Helen nodded thoughtfully. No, he must be a man who owns many fine mounts so I could ride a different one each day. She hugged her mother and ran up the narrow stairway to the roof. Omalu followed close behind.

We are above the dust and have the best view, the maidservant observed.

We do. Helen leaned against the stone railing circling the roof terrace. There were many young men gathered below ready to compete. They were handsome in their fine short tunics, but she gazed beyond them to