‘How many years since we last met, Odysseus?’
Odysseus’s eyes snapped open to see Helen standing at the opposite end of the bath. She was dressed in a white chiton of a thin, revealing material, through which the points of her nipples were clearly visible. Her black hair was no longer pinned behind her head, but hung down over her shoulders so that her pale face was framed in a perfect oval. Her cheeks were touched with pink and her full lips were red; not due to any false colouration, but rather because of the empty krater that dangled from her fingertips. Her large blue eyes were heavily lidded and looked lazily down at Odysseus’s nakedness. The maids had left a stool close to the edge of the bath, which Helen hooked with her toes and drew closer. She dropped onto it with a heavy motion, letting the krater roll from her fingers onto the floor beside her, and leaned her elbows onto her knees.
‘Must be twenty years,’ he answered.
‘And now here you are, in my bath. My maids treated you well?’
Odysseus nodded.
‘I’m sure they didn’t enjoy it,’ she said with a laugh. ‘Not with those rags and that awful smell. Couldn’t you have picked a better disguise to come spying on us in?’
‘It worked well enough, though I admit I didn’t expect to find myself in your bathroom.’
‘But here you are, completely at my mercy.’ The smile left her lips and her eyes grew dark. ‘You realise I could call the guards at any moment and have you dragged before Priam? Or have you forgotten that we are enemies, Odysseus? I’m a Trojan princess, married to the heir to the throne! It’s my duty to have you arrested, and my pleasure to watch you executed.’
‘Your duty, yes, but not your pleasure, I think. Else why didn’t you reveal who I was by the gates, when I was surrounded by armed soldiers? And why are you here with me, alone? Isn’t it the truth that you don’t consider yourself a Trojan at all – no more than those widows below the battlements think of you as one of them – and since the death of Paris you have no reason to want to stay here?’
‘Whether I want to stay here or not isn’t my decision, as well you know,’ she replied sternly. Then she sighed and brushed away the locks of hair that had fallen across her face. ‘But you’re right: if I’d intended to give you up I would have done so by now. And I may yet, but not until you’ve told me about my children. I hope that wasn’t just another of your lies to gain entry to the palace.’
‘If it was, what’s to stop me making up more lies to keep you happy?’
She smiled and shrugged lazily. ‘Nothing, I suppose, but if you must lie make it good and make it convincing. I’ve thought about them every day for the last ten years, and more so since Paris died. I often wonder what they look like now, or whether they’re married and have children. By Aphrodite, Odysseus, I could be a grandmother!’
They laughed together at the thought of it, and while the smile was still on her face Odysseus began to tell her all he knew about her children. When he had finished Helen did not press him with questions as he had expected, but fell silent for a while and looked down at her painted toenails.
‘And what about you, Odysseus? Why did you risk your life to enter Troy? Have the Greeks accepted they’ll never conquer our walls and sent you to kidnap me instead?’
‘That would be a hopeless task, Helen. Getting into Troy alone is one thing, but to take you against your will and try to leave again would be impossible.’
‘And if I was willing?’ she teased.
There was a pause as their eyes met, then Odysseus gave a dismissive shake of his head.
‘Even if you were, you’re too beautiful by far to smuggle out of the Scaean Gate without being noticed.’
‘Then why are you here?’
Odysseus looked at her again, his eyes questioning and firm.
‘If I told you that, and you betrayed me, it would be a mortal blow to our hopes of conquering Troy.’
‘I won’t betray your mission to anyone, Odysseus. You have my solemn oath, as Aphrodite is my witness.’
‘Then I’ve come to steal the Palladium.’
‘The Palladium?’ Helen gave a short, incredulous laugh, but when she saw that Odysseus was serious the smile fell from her lips and she leaned her elbows on her knees again. ‘You really want to steal the Palladium? There’re too many guards for a single warrior to overcome – and you haven’t even brought a sword.’
‘I’ll find one.’
‘But why risk everything for a lump of wood? Is it because of that old myth?’ She shook her head. ‘Even if you did manage to take the Palladium and escape with your life, the walls wouldn’t just come tumbling down, you know.’
‘No they wouldn’t. And yet Agamemnon has ordered me to steal it, so you can either give me some clothes and send me on my way, or you can break your oath and call the guard. Which will it be?’
He rose to his feet, letting the water stream down his heavy bulk. Helen stood, too, and raised a hand towards him.
‘Wait a moment,’ she said. ‘You can’t just charge through the palace naked and unarmed. Sit down and let’s give this some thought. Maybe I can help you.’
Odysseus eased himself back into the water.
‘Why would you help me, Helen? If the Greeks are victorious, you’ll just be returned to Menelaus and dragged back home to Sparta, to be detested until the end of your days for bringing about a war that has killed thousands.’
‘Can Menelaus be any worse than Deiphobus, who forced me to marry him after Paris was killed? Can anyone who isn’t Paris bring me the joy and happiness he did? And can Sparta be any worse a prison than Troy is? For that’s all I am now, Odysseus – a prisoner, kept here against my will while men continue to die in their thousands for my sake. I’d rather be reunited with Menelaus than remain stuck inside these walls. At least he was always kind to me when we were together, which is more than I will say for Deiphobus. Besides, if I returned to Sparta I would see my children again. I know it was my choice to leave them, but I’m not the person I was then. I’ve suffered just as much as any warrior on the plains of Troy, and all I want now is for the war to end – whoever wins. Do you understand?’
She sat back down on the stool, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of wine and anger. But if the wine had released her emotions, it was the anger that drove her on now. She jabbed a finger accusingly at Odysseus.
‘You have to take me with you, Odysseus. Forget the damned Palladium; the walls of Troy won’t need to be conquered if the Greeks have me. Take me back to Menelaus and the war will end. All I ask is a little time to fetch Pleisthenes –’
‘I’ll never be able to get you and your son out of Troy.’
‘I won’t abandon another child, Odysseus,’ she snapped. ‘And think about it: if you take us back to Menelaus, then the fighting will be over and you can return to Ithaca. Surely you want to see Penelope again?’
‘There’s nothing I want more,’ he answered, ‘but this isn’t the way to do it. Even if Pleisthenes agrees to come, you’ll be too much of a burden – escape would be impossible. And haven’t you realised yet, Helen? This war isn’t about you any more. It stopped being about you the moment Agamemnon had brought the Greek kings under his command and set sail for Ilium. You’re just the figurehead, something for Agamemnon to point at while he ensures the destruction of the greatest obstacle to his own power. If you return to Menelaus the war would still go on – only Agamemnon would probably have you assassinated and blame it on the Trojans, turning the war from a matter of honour to a matter of revenge.’
‘So you won’t help me?’
‘I can’t.’