The Hittite - Ben Bova [62]
I wrapped my arms around her and rocked her softly as I had done when she was a baby. The only wisdom that I could think of was, “You must go to the goddess and ask her aid.”
“ To Aphrodite?”
“She is your protectress and guide. She will give you the strength to find the right path.”
“Yes,” Helen agreed, wiping her tears with the back of her hands. “Aphrodite.”
As we walked hurriedly through the empty corridors of the palace I could hear the city’s populace roaring and cheering from up on the walls, their shouts like the howls of a wild beast. The queen was up there with all the royal women, I knew, including Hector’s wife, Andromache. I could not bear the thought of letting them see Helen so unhappy.
The temple was dark and chill. At Helen’s command the five priestesses who tended the votive fire beneath the goddess’ statue removed themselves to the outer chamber. I alone went with Helen to stand before the altar. The graceful marble likeness of beautiful Aphrodite rose three times taller than my own height, and still it only hinted at the goddess’ power and splendor.
Aphrodite had ever been Helen’s guide, her protectress. Even now she defended Troy against the jealousy of Athene before almighty Zeus atop lofty Mount Olympos, the home of the gods. In the dimly lit temple her face was in shadow, but I felt her painted eyes gazing down upon Helen as she sank to her knees at the goddess’ feet, miserable and confused.
“Beautiful Aphrodite, guardian of my heart, how can I live in such wretchedness?” Helen breathed, so softly that I could barely hear her words. “How can I remain married to Paris when it is Hector whom I truly love?”
I dared not look up at the goddess’ face. The temple felt cold, silent and empty. What Aphrodite imparted to my dear one I know not, but I know what was in my heart, the sad truth of her fate: Helen, your path has ever been difficult. Great beauty such as yours stirs the passions of mortals and even the jealousy of goddesses.
8
All that long afternoon Helen spent in the temple of Aphrodite, remembering the past, waiting and yearning for the goddess to inspire her with wisdom. I grew tired, standing there in the shadows of the silent temple. My eyes grew heavy and I felt empty, exhausted, a desperate sense of dread crowding around me like the shadows of night or the shades of the dead who had already been slain on the battlefield outside the city’s walls. My tired old legs throbbed with pain. Quietly, while Helen prayed to the goddess, I stretched out on the polished stone floor and closed my eyes.
I must have drowsed off, for the next thing I remember is Helen nudging me gently with the toe of her sandal.
I sat up, my face burning with shame. “I . . . I am sorry, my precious. You were at the altar such a long time. Look, night is falling.”
Through the columned entrance of the temple we could see in the courtyard beyond that the sky was violet with the last dying moments of sunset. A chill breeze was wafting in from the sea.
Helen helped me to my feet. “Oh, Apet, you have been my faithful servant as long as I can remember, since I was a baby suckling at your breast.”
“Aye, my nursling. And I will serve you until death parts us.”
In the deepening shadows of the temple I saw Helen’s face grow pensive. “My own baby daughter must be watching me from the dim shadows of Hades. I will be with her soon. I will join her in death.”
“No, don’t say that! Don’t even think it!”
“Apet, I cannot let Hector die: not for me, not to keep me from the hands of Menalaos.”
“Hector fights to defend Troy against the barbarians,” I told her. “And his death has been foretold; there is nothing you can do to change his destiny.”
“The goddess thinks otherwise.”
Standing on the cold stone floor I gazed up at the statue of Aphrodite, towering above us in the shadows of the silent temple. The golden glow from the oil lamps that were never permitted to go out did not reach as high as her painted face. Yet I sensed the goddess watching over us.
My blood ran cold. “The goddess spoke to you?”
“Not