by Bibliophage
“I’m sorry, buddy,” Hermes said when he fluttered down upon the slopes of Mount Ida, “but the time is now. They’ve sent me to get your decision.”
“But it’s only been a week!” Paris objected.
“You can’t put it off forever, anyway. I don’t envy you, man. They’ve really got you by your you-know-whats.”
“I don’t know what to do. What if I just don’t say who’s the prettiest.”
“Wouldn’t work,” Hermes said, sadly shaking his head. “That might imply none of them is the prettiest goddess. You’d have made three enemies instead of two.”
“I suppose that wouldn’t do, would it?”
“I should say not. Of course it would be true, but don’t tell them I said so.”
“What would be true?” Paris wasn’t what you could call the smartest shepherd in Troy.
“That none of them is the prettiest goddess.”
“Hera, Aphrodite, and-who was the other one?--oh, yeah, Athena. Who else is there?”
“Artemis. Have you ever seen her naked? No I guess you haven’t; you’re still alive, I see.”
“I should pick her then.”
“No! Dear god, no. Didn’t you hear what I was saying about making enemies of all three of them? Artemis doesn’t care if you pick her. In fact, you could make a fourth enemy that way: Apollo. Something funny going on between those two, I think. But no matter. What’s your choice? We haven’t got all day.”
“What did they promise me again?”
Hermes rolled his eyes Olympia-ward. “Hera promises power, Athena promises prowess, and Aphrodite promises pu-“
“Prowess? Doesn’t that have something to do with ships? I don’t like ships. I get seasick,” Paris confided.
Hermes closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Prowess means fighting ability. What’s your choice, man?”
“What did Artemis promise again?”
“An arrow in the eyeball! She’s not in the running.”
“I thought you said-“
“Never mind what I said. Let me put it this way: Which two would you rather have as enemies? Hera would make you powerless, Athena prowessless, and Aphrodite pu-“
“Those sound good. Make them be enemies.”
“Are you sure? If you pick Aphrodite as one of your enemies all you’d lose is your ability to-“ he whispered the rest in Paris’s ear.
“What! No! What would my poor adoring girls do then? They’d starve for affection! I couldn’t let that happen.” As he spoke he drew his arm around, encompassing his fanatics. All Hermes could see was hundreds and hundreds of fluffy white sheep.
*****
“Menelaus, I’m not content any more,” the most beautiful woman in the world said for the ten-thousandth time, give or take.
“Yes, Helen, I know,” her husband responded for the ten-thousandth time. “What do you want me to do about it?”
“I saw this really cute Thracian down at the market . . .”
“I’m sure you did. But if you couldn’t convince him to service you, I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to convince him.”
She threw a heavy brass candlestick at him as she fled his presence. He caught it smartly before it could do any damage.
“She has a fiery temper, that one,” Agamemnon chuckled. Menelaus merely glared at his brother. “Lively,” Agamemnon added.
“You can have her yourself,” Menelaus offered.
“I’ve already had the displeasure, thanks.”
“When was that?”
“When I was younger and more foolish. Anyway, now that we’re alone, what did you want to talk about?”
Menelaus looked all around before answering. “I want to get rid of her.”
Agamemnon laughed loud and heartily, ignoring the scowl it brought to his brother’s face. “You’re the one who just had to marry the most beautiful woman on the face of the earth.”
“Yes, but how was I to know what a bitch she’d turn out to be? She started cheating on me even before our marriage was consummated.”
“That wasn’t with me, Brother!”
Menelaus looked his brother over suspiciously. “I never believed it was… before. Ah, well, it doesn’t really matter. She’s got to go, and that’s that.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“She’s got to go. That’s all. I don’t care how, or by whom or what. She’s just got to go.”
“Maybe somebody will sweep her off her feet and carry her far, far away.”
“Come on! That only happens in those--those doggerel verses recited by that beggar down at the market that pretends to be blind. What was his name? Ah, what’s the use? I’ll be stuck with her until the day I die. Unless . . .” His eyes lit up all of a sudden.
“Unless what?” Agamemnon urged.
“Unless we can sacrifice her to the gods! Isn’t that brilliant?”
Agamemnon seemed to have his doubts. “Who is Helen’s father?”
“Zeus of course. Oh, I see what you mean. Perhaps it wasn’t so brilliant after all.”
A pretty, young serving wench scurried into the chamber, tears running down her cheeks.
“Whatever is the matter, my dear?” Agamemnon asked, getting up to embrace her (she was very pretty, did I mention?).
“It’s madam,” the girl said between sobs.
“What of her? Is she dead?” Menelaus asked hopefully.
“No, sir, she’s been kidnapped.”
“You’re an oracle, Ag!”
Agamemnon ignored him, conserving his attentions for the girl. “Don’t cry, sweet. We’ll get her back.”
“NO!” Menelaus and the girl cried in unison.
“What kind of monster are you?” the girl asked, squirming out of the big man’s embrace. “Here I am crying tears of joy and you try to steal my happiness away!”
“He was joking,” Menelaus assured her. “Come sit by me. What of this man who kidnapped her? Who was it? I’d like to send him a thank-you. It’s only proper.”
The girl, with Menelaus’s arm around her, nodded in agreement. “I don’t know who it was. I never saw him before, but I know what he smells like.”
“What he smells like? What does he smell like?”
She wrinkled her nose with the memory of it. “Sheep. Very, very strongly of sheep.”
*****
“So now what?” Paris asked after they had been safely spirited away to Troy.
“Now what?” Helen parroted. “Now what! Now you screw me already.” She started taking off her clothes, but she stopped before she was done. “Well?” she prompted.
“Very well, thanks,” Paris answered with a yawn. “And you?”
She pouted. “Well, I mean, aren’t you going to take your clothes off and ravish me like any self-respecting man would who just kidnapped the most beautiful woman in the world?”
“Oh, sure. Is that what you want?”
“It wouldn’t exactly be ravishment if I asked for it.”
“So what do you want me to do?”
“Just do it.”
“Okay. How?”
“How! Haven’t you ever been with a woman?”
“How do you mean?”
She took his hand and placed it on her naked breast. “This way,” she whispered.
He cocked his head and looked quizzically at her. He took his hand back to cover his yawn. Helen grunted in disgust. “Don’t you lust after me? Don’t you find me irresistible? Don’t you want to ravish me?”
“No, not really.”
She slapped him hard on the face. “Then I’ll find someone who does!” With that she stormed out of the room, but the theatrical impact was dampened by her collision with a tall, handsome man who was about to knock at the door. Her naked, globular breasts bounced off his steel-hard chest in the collision.
“Well, hello there, big boy,” Helen greeted him, looking up into his shocked eyes.
“Good evening, Madam. Pardon my surprise, but I am not at all in the habit of meeting women in Paris’s room. I am Hector, his brother, at your service. And who might I have the pleasure of addressing?”
She cast a look of sheer hatred back at Paris before answering Hector. “Helen of Sparta, and I would be happy to be serviced by you.”
Hector cleared his throat. “Indeed. Well, then, I should be off. To my . . . wife.” He started to turn, but Helen grabbed hold of his muscular arms and prevented him. At the same time, she pressed her naked fleshy breasts against him and moaned.
Hector coughed. “Yes, to my wife, to . . . what was her name again? Paris, help me.”
“Andromache,” Paris supplied.
“No, I mean help me. Never mind,” he said, gaining resolve upon hearing his wife’s name.
Helen could see it was no use. She let go of him. “Don’t you think I’m beautiful?” she pouted.
“Indeed I do.”
“Don’t you want to ravish me?”
“Indeed I do not.”
“I suppose you’re a sheep-lover too,” she taunted.
“A wife-lover, madam.”
This enraged her. She slapped him hard across the cheek. “Pig! I’ll find a real man somewhere in this city. I just know I will.” She stormed past him and could be heard muttering to herself, “I have to.”
*****
“I beseech you, wise Priam,” Hector said.
“And who might you be?” the king demanded to know.
“Hector.”
“Do I know you?”
“I’m your son.”
“Oh, gods, not another one! Have I ever met you before?”
“Yes, Sire. I am your son by Hecuba.”
“And that would be . . .”
“One of your wives, Sire,” Hector prodded.
An older woman stood and waved graciously at the old man. The king waved back happily. “I remember now,” he said. “You’re the shepherd.”
“No, sire. That’s Paris.”
“What did you say your name was again?”
“Hector.”
“Very well, Hector, go on. What do you want with me?”
“I beseech you, wise Priam-“
“You already said that.”
“Yes, well. I want you to cast out of the city the witch named Helen of Sparta. She is an evil influence upon the young men of this city and she will ruin our morals.”
“Sounds like my kind of woman. Bring her in!”
Helen was brought into the presence of the king. This time the king himself stood.
“Well, well, well,” the old man said. “Quite a looker, isn’t she?” he said, taking a few steps toward her.
Hector hurried to his side. “Don’t be lured by her beauty, Father! She’s an evil influence.”
The king made no sign that he heard his son’s advice. Helen arrived and fell to the floor in supplication. Not to mention it showed off her cleavage better at this angle.
“My dear girl, please sta-No, never mind. Stay where you are.” She looked at him with upturned eyes from downturned face. The effect was overpowering.
“Heh-heh-heh.” The king turned to son. “Sonnyboy, say hello to your new stepmother.”
Hector groaned.
*****
Hector was present the next day when preparations were being made for the wedding, doing everything in his power to put a stop to this madness.
“But Father, what about Menelaus? What if he comes for her?”
“Let him come! We could beat him and his Greek army in ten hours.”
“But Father, what about Paris? Aphrodite promised her to him.”
“He doesn’t want her.”
“But Father-“
“No more but-Fathers! Just be happy for me.”
At that moment the court physician came in, looking decidedly pale.
“Ah, Doctor,” the king said, brightening up when he saw him. “I suppose you’ve come to tell me the results of my beloved’s examination. No, no, don’t be shy. Come right up here. So, she’s healthy, I assume.”
“Ahem, well.”
“Speak up, man!”
“I said, ‘Ahem, well.’ The lady is-how to put this?”
“Oh, I was afraid of this,” Priam said, shaking his head sadly. “That’s why I had her checked out, you know. So she’s carrying the child of Menelaus, eh? Well, I’m sure we can work something out.”
“No, Sire. That’s not it.”
“Paris? Impossible! Or is it?”
“No. I mean, Sire, I mean to say, that, she, she’s not with child.”
“Splendid! Then the wedding can go ahead.”
“That’s not something I could recommend, speaking as your physician.”
“Oh, afraid she’d be too much for me, eh? No likely, doctor. I’m like a rabbit, you know.”
“I know that, Sire. That’s not it.”
“What then?”
The doctor looked at the floor and shuffled his feet. “Shgrdddrsz.”
“I beg your pardon, doctor, but I didn’t quite catch that.”
“She’s got a disease!” Hector said triumphantly.
“Impossible! Surely you didn’t say that, Doctor.”
The doctor nodded his head timorously.
The king stiffened. He turned to Hector who by this time had the good grace to pretend to be grave. “Send her packing,” Priam said.
*****
“There seems to be a bit of a problem,” Hector told his father an hour later.
“Yes, but now that you’ve sent her away, it will be all right.”
“No, Father. There’s a bit of a problem.”
“What are you talking about? I swear I liked you better before I knew you existed. What kind of problem?”
“The Greeks are at the gate.”
“Oh, so you were right after all, eh? Well, just let Menelaus have the witch and I expect they’ll go on home.”
“That’s not what they want.”
“What then?”
“They’ve laid siege to the city, Sire. They say they can’t allow us to let the scourge that is Helen loose on the world. Oh, and one more thing. They don’t want her name associated with Sparta any more. They say from now on, she’s Helen of Troy.”
*****
Years pass.
*****
“Well, Father, the Greeks are starting to get restless,” Hector said.
“What? I thought it was working quite well.”
“It was, it was. But some of those poor men haven’t seen their wives for nine years. They’re anxious to go home.”
“Oh, that’s just Odysseus for you. “Penny this, Penny that.” Nice enough guy, Odysseus, but the man’s pussy-whipped if you ask me.”
“But it’s not just him this time. Even Agamemnon is pining for Medea.”
“I swear that woman will be the death of him,” Cassandra prophesied from the side. No one paid her any mind, as usual.
“I thought he was having fun,” Priam said. “I rather enjoy having the guys in for dinner every night. Great parties. What the hell? What’s their problem all of a sudden? So if they want to go home, let them, I say.”
“It’s not that simple, Father. They still won’t go as long as Helen is a danger to the world.”
“Helen again, is it?”
“I’m afraid so. I’ve threatened to chuck her out among them in a catapult, but they called my bluff.”
“I have an idea,” Andromache said. She was ignored.
“I’ll bet they did. We haven’t got a catapult.”
“Exactly.”
“I have a suggestion,” Hecuba said. She was ignored.
“We could just kill her,” Hector suggested.
“I have a thought,” Cassandra said. She was ignored. As usual.
“Nah,” Priam said. “Too messy. Besides, we might catch something.”
“We’ve got to do something. The Greeks are actually threatening to storm the walls.”
“We can’t let it come to that.”
“No, Father, we can’t. But I don’t know what to do.”
“I’m open to suggestions,” Priam said, looking around. Three women spoke at once.
*****
A few days passed.
*****
“Yeah, so where was I?” the poet asked after draining a skin of wine in one gulp. He burped.
“’Years passed,’” Odysseus prompted. They were in the camp of the Greeks
“Oh, yeah. “Years passed. So, then. This bugger, whatizname . . .”
“Achilles?” suggested Menelaus.
“No. Thuther one.” He burped again.
“Odysseus?”
“Not him either.”
“Patroclus,” Odysseus suggested.
“Thazzaone. Patroclus, he stole the, whuzzit, armor, of the guy you said . . . Achilles, heezaone. Yup, so, yeah. That’s how it went. And he got hisself kilt by somebody or other.”
“Hector,” Odysseus said.
“No, thuther one, the Trojan, wuzzizname . . . Hector! Thazzit.” There was a long pause.
“Go on,” Agamemnon said.
“The muse-“ he hiccuped-“runneth dry.”
“Oh, for gods’ sake!” Menelaus said. Somebody passed the poet a fresh bladder of wine. He drank and continued.
“So Achilles, he kilt that bad old Trojan, the one I said, Hector ‘r whatever, ‘n’ drug his body aaaaall”-as he said all, he spun his hand around and almost toppled over-“aaaaall around the city walls.”
“Three times,” Odysseus supplied.
“I wuz gettin’ to that part. Three times.” He held up two fingers. “Three. So the Greeks, see, they’re gettin’ tired of this war, so they come up with a plan, see. This here bugger does, this wuzzizname from Utica--Ithaca . . .”
“Odysseus,” Odysseus prompted.
“Yeah, thazzit. Odysseus, he comes up with this plan, see. All about a horse. Somethin’ like that, anyway. Looked more like some kinna damn chicken ‘r summin.”
“Never mind that,” Odysseus said, a little short-tempered. “Just get on with it.”
“Yeah. Yeah, so thizzere horse, so-called, they left it as a you know-hey! The muse runneth dry.”
A bladder later, he continued. “So they left thizzere horse as some kinda tribute and skedaddled. Anyhoo, that’s what them stupid Trojans thought. Inside were brave Achaean use, I mean youts, I mean you-thiss. Young folk, that is. And they took that chick-horse inside the walls and the Achaen youts, they got out and kilt all them bad old Trojans, so there you have it. The-the muse!” Another muse was supplied. He drank. “The end!” He then collapsed in a heap.
“What a work of art!” Agamemnon said.
“So there you have it,” Odysseus said, seeming a little nervous. He stood and pointed to the crumbled walls of the still smoldering city. The story had been commissioned by Odysseus and Agamemnon to fill in Helen, who had been locked in a tower inside the city the whole time of the epic battle, and Menelaus, who had been drunk in his tent on a case of fine wine Agamemnon had sent him.
“Such a waste,” Menelaus said. “All those Trojans dead?”
“Every one,” Odysseus said with puffed-up pride.
“Oh, yes, they’re all dead,” Agamemnon affirmed. “Dead, dead, dead. Yes, ind-” He shut up at a signal from Odysseus.
“What will happen to me?” Helen asked.
“No choice about it!” Odysseus said quickly. “You get to go back to Sparta with Menelaus. Yes, indeed, Menelaus. You’ve won back your bride. Congratulations!”
A great cheer went up from the Greek host, completely drowning out the protestations of Menelaus.
“Well, no time like the present!” Agamemnon chipped in as soon as the cheering died down enough. “Let’s go home.” The renewed cheering drowned out further protestations.
“I’ll catch up later,” Odysseus said. “See you in a week or so. I want to clean up a bit around here.” Minutes later, Menelaus and Helen were hauled off unceremoniously to the ships. Within hours, the beach was deserted except for the ships of Odysseus. He left his men behind and climbed the hill toward the ruined city.
At the gate he was met by a delegation.
“Sorry about the mess,” he said.
“Don’t worry about that,” Priam said. “We’ve built a new city on the ruins of the old before, and we’ll do it again. We’ll make it just the same as it was. You’ll see.”
“Not quite the same,” Hecuba said.
“No? Oh, well, no need to get into that.”
Odysseus looked puzzled enough to warrant an explanation.
“It’s been decided,” Andromache said, “to let the Trojan women have a greater say in the running of the city, since their brains aren’t dangling between their legs.”
Priam leaned over and conspiratorially whispered in Odysseus’s ear, “They’ve got us by the balls.”
“I wouldn’t know about that.”
“Yeah, right!” Priam sneered.
“Well, I suppose I’ll be off. Are you sure you won’t come along, Patroclus?”
“Quite sure,” he said. “Paris has promised to show me his sheep. I’m rather looking forward to it.” Paris smiled sheepishly.
“Er, well, yes. I’m sure. Well, maybe I’ll be back to visit next year.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” Cassandra prophesied. They ignored her, as usual.