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It had been 7 years after Troy fell, Hermione and Orestes were happily wed, Menelaus was once again the beloved King of Sparta. What of Helen? What of me she thought.
Menelaus and his heir their son Nicostratus were walking back from a successful day of father son bonding. It was Prince Nico’s birthday eve, when asked what he wanted to do on his last day of freedom before he joined the Spartan Corps as mandated by law, he said he wanted to spend the day with his father. Menelaus had in his hand a covered basket, Helen had packed them a picnic, first Menelaus had organised a chariot race between Nico and his friends, then father and son had gone fishing. The much-loved prince was as rowdy as he was handsome, Menelaus was indulgent with his paternal pride and attention.
Helen had stopped hating Menelaus years ago. It was when he accepted another man’s child as his heir that she forgave him. They both healed, albeit slowly, forgave and turned to each other for companionship. They were in a comfortable place as now parents and friends, it was all he wanted. She was constantly surprised at how little he demanded of her.
“Mother!” her light eyed, dark haired son yelled out, dropping his fishing pole, the mighty Spartan King bent his head and collected his son’s thrown fishing gear. If anyone suspected that the auburn haired man was not the boy’s father they kept it to themselves. Menelaus may not have warred in years when it came to Helen’s honour or Nico’s safety he was still capable of violence.
Helen kissed her son, the true heir of Troy, he would rule Sparta one day. It seemed Menelaus had learned his lesson, he did not try to control Nico’s excitable nature. The Spartan King, no longer expected anyone to keep their promises or vows, he no longer demanded loyalty from anyone.
Menelaus would sit for hours with the Spartan elders to teach the boy ethics but to no avail, the boy had a temper and was easily distracted. The elders would advise Menelaus to be firm to use violence on the boy if words did not work, but he would always reject the advice, he said that he had once lost everything because of violence and he would not go down that road again.
-
That night as they lay in their bed, he had sighed looked at Helen, “I fear that he is not going to be a good king. He shall be able to lead them to war but he shall not be wise."
"Are you saying our son will start wars and not be able to end them?" Helen asked her hair tumbling into her face.
Menelaus was briefly distracted by Helen’s hair, he wanted to brush her hair off her face, but those days were long gone. Though she had started to live again, for her son’s sakes, her heart remained in Troy. Even though he had lost his honour and his pride, and though he had lost who he was in Troy, as he neared Sparta he slowly remembered his true nature, one who cherished his wife and he respected her enough to never touch her knowing how she felt about him.
“He shall be respected for his position but his penchant for choosing passion over honour will earn him no hearts.” Menelaus told his wife, she was still his wife, in name but his friend in nature.
“I disagree, he is too much like his father to not be loved, a loved man makes for a good King,” Helen reassured him, thinking her words stolen from the lips of the wisest of scholars. She felt an urge to touch his arm, to ensure that he understood her sincerity on the matter.
Menelaus had given her a strange look and then turned away from her choosing to stare at the ceiling. Helen had watched him her hand on the pillow that had separated their bodies from touching the past few years. At first Helen thought that he would take his rights with her body, she had expected as much, however he had left her alone, to her relief. However at this exact moment she wanted there to be no distance between them.
Menelaus had been so distracted thinking about how much Helen had loved Paris and how in his dying moments he had told Menelaus that he would never have what they had. He would never know love.
So when Helen caressed his cheek, Menelaus saw the pillow was gone Helen was reaching for him, he had looked at her with surprise. This was a cruel dream, Menelaus told himself, some witch was tormenting with something he could never have. He was going mad.
As Helen’s lips touched his, he knew without a doubt this was madness. The Helen he knew the Helen he loved would never touch him so tenderly. This Helen must be a phantom fashioned by the gods.
Helen had scanned his confused face before throwing off her nightdress over her head. His mouth had slightly hung open but he made no move.
She placed his hand on her heart, “it has come home,” she told him.
Realisation dawned on his face.
“It is beating again, Menelaus, for you she,” said added shyly
She pulled his face to hers her hands on either side of his face, when she called out his name, as she kissed him soundly, something settled into place in his mind. When she leaned forward into him he mirrored her movements. Her hands immediately buried in his hair and caressing his neck. His arms and hands wrapping around her.
“Are you sure?” he heard a voice ask it was not his voice, it was low and hoarse, not a king’s voice but a beggars voice, a beggar who had not touched a woman for more than fifteen years
“Yes.” she had whispered against his lips.
-
Helen stretched and stared out the window a happy and big smile on her face. She threw a hand over her face to stifle a giggle. She had been thinking of resuming her marital life with Menelaus for a while now, he was a good man who made mistakes and he suffered for them. What set him apart from all the other good men in the world however was that he loved her son. That was what had thawed her frozen heart. They healed and gravitated towards each other because of their love for Nico.
Feeling like a newly married teenager again, she kicked at the sheets, she was miffed that she had to wake alone, surely after last night he would have stayed in her bed. She had heard the rumours that he had not touched a woman for 10 years at Troy and even when she treated him as an enemy he never sought out the loving embrace of anyone else. She was puzzled that he would leave her so.
She heard a crinkle, there was a Papyrus on the bed.
She yawned and reached for it, she smiled it was her husband’s script. It started off elegant then deteriorated into chicken scratch.
My and Dearest had been scratched out Helen didn’t like the feeling of that.Helen,
Now that Nicostratus is old enough to join the army, I feel it is time that I moved on. I stayed with you to atone for my crimes against you and the Trojans. I wish you well, should Nico have any defects you may curse me for my part in his rearing. Your grace in tolerating me these past 7 years has been nothing short of divinity. I am an unforgivable wretch I made war for you, I spilled blood for you but all in vain, you were never mine. I never deserved you and I could live a thousand years and I shall never deserve you nor earn your forgiveness.
Farewell Helen,
Your former husband.Helen clutched the letter to her heart, her face and the papyrus crumpled.
-
When Helen had not come to breakfast, a maid found Helen lying in her bed staring at a papyrus with wet cheeks. Helen had been bathed and hurried to the ceremony.
The chair next to Helen was empty.
“The King not is joining us?” someone asked delicately
Helen ignored them, her senses were all muted.
Helen walked as if in a daydream only breaking out of it to congratulate the boys who had just entered the corps.
How was she to tell Nico that his father, had fled in the middle of the night as a coward? Helen was furious for her son.
“Nico, your father,” Helen began regally
“Father gave me this!” Nico said grinning, brandishing a sword from behind his back, “The sword of Atreus! Father said I am to use this to defend my mother, my country and and… my honour!”
Helen was taken aback, “when did he?”
“Yesterday, he said he was going away that he had done his duty to me. He told me that I am the man of the house now that I am a credit to my father and that my father would be proud of me.”
It occurred to Helen that Menelaus was planning on leaving before they had lain together, she knew she should feel better that he had been planning on leaving regardless of last night’s love making. He hadn’t left because of it but it hadn’t stopped him from leaving either. It did not make her feel better.
“Father said something strange,” Nico’s small face wore a look of confusion, “that my father was a far better man than he was, or could ever aspire to be. What did he mean mother? What does aspire mean?”
“What else did he say?” Helen asked her son.
“Father said that he could live be an old man but he would never deserve our love he started talking about how Sparta was mine because my mother is the true and only monarch of Sparta. He said something about duty and started using big words I don’t remember all of it but I can try to remember…”
Helen kissed the top of Nico’s head, shutting down the boys rambling.
That was why Menelaus had fled her bed he did not feel like he deserved to be loved nor forgiven. Her husband was an imbecile.
Helen had thought that it was the best time to resume their marriage to get to know each other again, her wretched husband had thought it was the most opportune time to become a hermit to atone for his sins.
Helen found out through careful questioning that her husband had left for Mycenae. He went “home.” Anger flared in Helen, his home was with Nico in Sparta, with her. They did not crawl on bloodied hands and knees from Troy to be parted now.
Helen let out a frustrated growl, earning her worried looks, once she had borne Menelaus an heir, the anger towards her from the Spartans had receded. How very like him to leave, when she was ready to love him in the way he always wanted to be loved?
She instructed the servants to prepare a vessel for Mycenae. She told the elders that they would rule Sparta in her absence. She told them she would return with Menelaus. Nico would be fine, learning military drills.
She had not spent a day without Menelaus since Troy fell. He made her life much easier, no one disrespected her when he was near. Her day started with Menelaus and ended with him, with little Nico in the middle of it. How many smiles had graced her features as Nico came running up to Menelaus and Helen. He would grab Menelaus around the knees and ask Menelaus to come see him fight or climb a tree or run.
After Agamemnon died, Menelaus had wept for hours. As much as Helen wanted to hate Menelaus she felt some empathy for him as her heart was in the same pain. He had the same kind of sadness in his eyes again when Nico came of age, perhaps he missed his monstrous brother that is why he had to leave so urgently.
Before Helen boarded the ship, she was apprehensive, their last reunion was not pleasant. What of their upcoming one? Would he kiss her? Would she embrace him?
-
Helen’s anger cooled, the sea air had seen to that. Mycenae was breathtaking. She was assisted to the dock. Hermione looked at her coolly, Orestes was warm. Menelaus was nowhere to be seen.
Helens anger returned thrice as powerful, he had not even come to receive her?
“Where is my husband?” Helen asked Hermione
“In troy,” Hermione had said under her breath
Helen grabbed hemione by her hair and she twisted her daughter's wine coloured hair
“Mother!” Orestes tried to intervene
“What did you say?” Helen asked her daughter
“In the caves,” Hemione squeaked out as Helen released Hermione’s hair and Orestes started to soothe his wife.
Helen walked with purpose to the caves as the tributes were unloaded from the vessel.
-
Menelaus was kneeling on the floor on a cloth praying and chanting, the cave was full of smoke, scrolls and other things that belonged in a temple.
Helen saw him tense and he slowly unfolded himself and rose to his full height.
He looked at her in awe, as if she was what he had just been praying for.
A less angry woman would be flattered. She was too angry to react favourably.
“Helen…”
“Menelaus,” she said stepping into the cave there were two hanging lamps in the room everything looked golden. His hair looked like copper, he looked more a priest than a warrior king.
“Go home Helen, your child needs you,” he said wearily breaking the tense moment pregnant with unasked questions and unsaid words.
The slap that landed on his cheek echoed through the cave
Helen spoke calmly, “that was for leaving your son,” she saw his face take on his iconic shocked expression.
She slapped him again, “and that dear husband, is for thinking you are not good enough.”
Helen was breathing hard, she wanted to slap him again to get that stunned expression off his face.
“You finished?” He asked, eyes downcast, a shameful look on his face.
“Not even close,” Helen said and kissed him, her hands on his neck and his head, his hands around her back and waist, she took the opportunity to bite his lip as his back met the walls of the cave.
-
“Is that why you have come he asked, to make me back, so that my son can grow old with his father,” Menelaus asked as Helen lazily traced patterns on her husband’s chest, all her anger and frustration replaced by post-coital bliss.
She caressed his cheek, “And because I love you.”
He kissed her back, Helen closed her eyes, she could get used to this. Maybe the gods had forgiven her part in the war and they were going to allow her happiness after all.
Helen reached for her dress and pulled out a small pouch, it emptied into her palm, a single object fell out, Helen slipped her husband’s wedding ring onto his finger. She couldn’t bear to be parted from him, not now not after everything.
“No more running, promise me,” she demanded voice heavy with emotion.
“I promise, let’s go home,” he agreed.
She smiled and kissed his chin and he hugged her kissing Helen’s temple.
The end.