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take me to the king.
    The sailor on watch recognized my boat. A rope ladder was let down and a sailor helped me to scramble up, though I was in no need of any help. Father, looking surprised and pleased, greeted me heartily.
    “Welcome, daughter!” he boomed as I boarded the great ship and was folded into his embrace. Then he asked, peering into my boat, “And your mother? Is Helen with you?”
    “She was unable to come,” I answered carefully. “And so I came instead.”
    I had been onboard the royal ship only a few times when I was much younger, and Father now proudly led me from the great carved prow to the rear, explaining the ropes that controlled the billowing sail and pointing out the benches where slaves sat and rowed, twenty-five on each side. He showed me where he slept and where he ate, and then I suggested that we go ashore on Kranai. “We’ve prepared a welcoming meal for you on the beach,” I said. “I’m glad to have you home again, Father.”
    “I’m glad to be here,” he said fondly. “And I look forward to seeing your lovely mother and that lively little brother of yours.”
    “I’m sure you do,” I said. “The barges will soon be here to take us to the palace.” I hoped to have the chance now to tell him what had happened, to prepare him, maybe even to blunt his anger.
    On the beach, the smell of roasting meat filled the air. Servants hurried to lay out the meal. I had arranged for musicians to play soothing music, but my father was clearly agitated.
    “This is all very pleasant, Hermione,” he said. “But I’m eager to be home again, in my own bed, next to my dear wife.”
    I sighed, my heart heavy with the news that I couldn’t delay much longer. Father drained the last drops of wine from his goblet, and when I motioned for a servant to refill it, he shook his head. “Finish your meal, and let’s be on our way.”
    My hands had begun to tremble, but at that moment a brilliant rainbow arched across the sky and a young woman with golden wings appeared, startling us both. “It’s Iris, Hera’s messenger,” Father said to me. “You see the herald’s rod she carries in her hand?” I gazed at her in awe.
    “King Menelaus,” Iris addressed him, “I bring you a message from Hera, wife of Zeus. Your wife, Helen of Sparta, has sailed away with Prince Paris of Troy, taking your son, Pleisthenes, and much of your treasure with her.”
    “Helen, gone?” My father reeled, looking as though he had been struck. A good-size man and broad shouldered, he appeared small, shrunken. “Where is she—” He corrected himself. “Where are they now?”
    “They intended to sail for Troy,” Iris reported, “but as they did so, Hera sent a fierce storm that blew the Trojan fleet off course. They have reached Cyprus. Hera believes that the lovers will spend several months enjoying themselves in Phoenicia and Egypt before Paris orders the bows of his ships turned at last toward Troy.”
    When the first stars of evening appeared in the sky, the rainbow and the goddess vanished as quickly as they had come. I braced for the full strength of Father’s fury, but nothing happened. Instead, he looked deeply saddened and weary beyond words. I reached out and took his hand. “Father,” I whispered.
    He shook his head. “Where are the barges, Hermione?” he asked tiredly. “I want to go home.”

6
Homecoming
    THE MOON SENT SILVERY beams skittering across the black surface of the River Eurotas as our slaves heaved against the oars and drove the royal barge toward Sparta. Father paced agitatedly across the deck, sometimes pausing and leaning against a rail, staring down into the dark water.
    By the time the boatmen had steered the barge toward the pylons where the royal boats were tied up, something had changed in him. The shock had worn off, pushed aside by a seething anger. He stalked silently into the palace. Guards shook off their drowsiness and anxiously watched the king. Servants, warned of