Electra (21 page)

'He waylaid her in a thicket and raped her, overmastered by lust as lawless men are,' replied Alceste. 'Then knowing what he had done would make him accursed, but not daring to kill her, not wanting to relinquish possession of her white body, he cut out her tongue so she could not tell and imprisoned her in a little house in the fields; a brides' house for his desperate bride.

'Blood filled her mouth and fear her mind, but stronger was her desire for revenge. When he came again she submitted to him, pleasing him with her hands, and asked him in mime for a loom and some wool, to occupy her until her sister's lord came again to invade her body.'

Alceste impaled a bundle of fluffy white wool on the spindle-spike and drew out her first thread, rolling it between her fingers. I realised that I was holding my breath.

'Then she made a tapestry, an embroidered cloth, and sent it to her sister. The evil master had told Procne that her sister had returned home, so he had no reason to not convey the present to his wife. He mustn't have even looked at it, which is like a man.

'When Procne saw pictured on the cloth the rape and mutilation of her sister, she cried desperately on the Gods for justice. They were turned into birds; all three.

'Philomena cries for her lost love, men say, but I say for her lost honour, gone forever when Tereus seized her. The swallow's voice is answered by the nightingale, her sister Philomena, forever mourning. And the hoopoe, is the evil king.'

'I do not like your stories, Alceste,' I commented.

That night the dream came again.

I was lying in my bed in the palace and I heard the door open. He came in, dark curls to his shoulders, placating smile on his face. I was pinned under his weight as Philomela under Tereus, and I screamed and screamed.

Lysane came to me, and Alceste, and I slept uneasily under the influence of the drug, between their warm and breathing bodies.

The next morning I went to Pylades where he was sharpening a sickle and said, 'I must speak to you, Lord.'

'My Lady?' His smile faded as he saw my sad face. 'What is it, princess? Has someone offered you an affront? Are you not happy here?'

'I am happy and no one has offered me an affront. You have all been very kind. But, Lord,' I groped for words. 'Lord, I wondered if you might perhaps be thinking that I might make a wife for you.'

His eyes widened. 'Lady, I am honoured by your presence in my house, I would not presume-'

'There is no presumption. What rank is Electra, now that her father is dead at the hands of her mother?' I snapped. 'But I have this to say, Lord. I like you, I am happy in your house, but I cannot marry you, Lord.'

'There is another?' he asked, his face stony.

'No, no other. I cannot marry anyone. Lord, I am tainted, contaminated, unfit to marry. I can never marry you, Lord Pylades; though if I could, it would be you or no man.'

He was silent. Hollow and shaking. I laid a hand on his homespun sleeve.

'Shall I take my brother and leave, Lord?' I asked. That would be only fair. If I was unable to marry him, then I should leave my place to another mistress. But I was desperately reluctant to go. The farm had become dear to me and I felt safe, as safe as I could feel anywhere.

'Leave, Lady? By all the Gods, not on my account.' He smiled at me. I liked the way the corners of his hazel eyes crinkled. 'Who else will mollify the cook? That Thracian will poison us all if I let you go.'

It was true that I had struck up what could almost be called a friendship with Abantos. For days he had ignored me. When I showed no signs of interfering in the management of the trade, however, he unbent enough to instruct me in some elementary skills. He was surprised that I had never cooked anything in my life and, I think, pleased that I confessed my ignorance. He found me, I believe, an apt pupil. After a few weeks, he began to smile at me, always disconcerting in that big dark man. He had such white teeth.

We talked about the world. He had been captured in a border battle between the Thracians and the Epirotes, and had made his way from master to master all down the coast of Achaea to Delphi. He had been a famous cook amongst his people and was always, he said, sold for a higher price than before.

Pylades had bought him from his old master in the Delphi market-place, outbidding several other farmers. Abantos told me proudly that he was worth five silver coins. I told him he was worth at least twenty for his bread alone and he grinned at me for the first time.

He was worried by my thinness, which in Thrace is a portent of death. He made me eat bread and oil, and saved the fattest meat and the richest fruit for me. And he had gone to any end of trouble and experimentation to make for me the honeycakes of Mycenae, of which there were no better in all Achaea.

I now believe that the best honeycakes in the world are now to be found on the estate of Pylades, the Prince of Phocis, made by Abantos the Thracian, prince amongst cooks.

I smiled at Pylades as best I could.

'And Tauros likes you,' he added.

This was also true. Sharp-toothed Tauros, the guard dog, a mastiff almost as big as the bull after which he was named, had sniffed me suspiciously at first. But I was never afraid of animals. Men are much more dangerous. I had given him my travelling shift to sleep on and he had grown used to my scent. After a week he was taking titbits from my hands, and licking my face. Yet he was wary or fierce with all other people, being the master's dog and proud of it.

'You are dreaming again, Lady,' Pylades observed. 'I can tell by the shadows under your eyes. I have a proposal. I think that you have been enclosed for too long. Reacquaint yourself with your old friend
Banthos
, Princess. Come riding with me and Orestes. He can ride now almost without falling.'

'He told me. But it would not be proper for me to be seen by the countryside riding astride on a horse, Lord.'

'Then we will go out early in the morning,' he said. 'Before any but the hardiest are awake. I think you need to breathe free air, Lady.'

I agreed to try it.

The days fell into a pattern. I find patterns soothing, being a weaver. Every morning I rose before dawn, dressed quickly, and met my brother and the Lord Pylades at the stable, where my friend
Banthos
and the others were waiting, ready-saddled by Graios, who slept in the stable to guard against thieves.

By bringing a horse to Pylades' house we had doubled his wealth. That scoundrel Trojan Eumides had evidently made one of his very good bargains for him. Pylades said that Banthos was a warhorse from the king's stable, and had purchased a mare to be his mate, hoping for many fine colts if the Gods were kind.

Graios boosted me into the saddle and then smiled at me as I settled myself and pinned my veil close around my head. He was always smiling at me, the young slave. His eyes followed me if I was in the room, though I was sure that he could not see through my firmly lowered veil. Alceste said… It does not matter what Alceste said.

Oh, it was fine to be out in the world again. I breathed the air, hampered by the veil. As soon as we were out of sight around the curve of the hill, I lifted it back and let the cold air rush past my face, scented with leaves and water.

Orestes laughed. 'Here is my sister returned!' he exclaimed.

'She has never gone away,' I told him. 'She will always be with you.'

'Until the end, Electra?' he asked soberly, and I caught his hand, allowing Banthos to slow to a walk.

'Until the end,' I assured him. My little brother's eyes had never been the eyes of a child. They were golden and uncanny. They held divine secrets. I knew that the God Apollo must still be speaking to him.

Pylades broke the silence, riding between us and urging his mount to canter.

'Come on, Electra,' said Orestes, and I kneed Banthos into a trot.

My Lord Pylades was right. The morning ride banished the black remnant of my dreams and I returned, veiled again, but awake and alert and ready for whatever work was toward. All through the spring, as Arcturus rose higher and the rhythm of the agricultural year quickened, I rode each morning with Pylades, Prince of Phocis, and I grew stronger.

The Thracian's feeding was showing results. At the time of the scything of the grain I pulled on the tunic in which I had arrived and found that it would no longer fit me. Lysane was pleased.

'There, Lady, my nestling, that's a good princess. See, you have breasts now, child, and hips like a proper woman.' Her hard hand ran approvingly down from my shoulder, cupped a handful of breast, and patted my buttocks. The touch sent a little warm tingle through my bones.

Alceste came up the stairs, announcing, 'The old man says that the snails have been climbing the stems, he says they are afraid of the Pleiades and it is time to harvest, and my Lord Pylades bid me to tell you that we will begin harvesting today.'

She came close to me as I stood naked, waiting for Lysane to find me a better-fitting tunic, and said softly, 'My Lady is beautiful.' Her hand repeated the caress of the old woman's, gently stroking from shoulder to thigh, and I felt a stronger tremor, as though I was cold. Her hands were hard with work but their touch was pleasant. She allowed her hand to slide down to my belly, her fingers closing on the mount of Aphrodite, and she kissed me, a soft, delicate woman's kiss, not intrusive like the kisses of men - of the man.

Then Lysane came back with my tunic, and it was time to work.

The scythes were sharpened and the cook's temper was as black as his skin - or his heart, as Lysane mumbled. There would be twenty men to feed for at least two meals, and the fire had gone out. I could hear Abantos roaring as I came down the stairs, tying a coarse cloth apron around my waist. I ducked as a pot, flung at Aulos, hit the wall with a thud and bounced and clanged.

'Thracian, you will dent your master's pots,' I said peaceably. 'Come, leave flinging things. You sit down and drink a draught of the good wine - come, Abantos, sit here on this bench, fetch him some wine, Lysane - and Aulos will beg fire from the reapers.'

Somewhat to my surprise, he did as I told him. Graios, who ought to have been out in the field, was sitting on the back step, clutching his head.

Alceste examined him briefly, led him into the kitchen, and sat him down next to the huge Thracian, who snarled at him over the lip of the wine cup.

'What happened to you, Graios?' I asked. Lysane took an old tunic and began to rip it into strips. 'I was in the way of the first pot,' said the young man, taking a blood-smeared palm away from the grazed temple and wincing.

'You shouldn't have let the fire go out,' grunted the cook.

'I didn't,' protested Graios. 'I was in the stable like always. You should have got Azeus with that pot. He was told to sleep here and mind the grate.'

Lysane brought water in a bowl and began to wash the bruise. Graios gasped at the cold, rough touch and I said, 'Gently, Lysane. I'll do it. You go and get the meal for the bread and measure it so that the dough can be ready when Aulos comes back with the fire.

'Alceste, can you find that boy, spank him, and make sure there is enough charcoal? There,' I soothed, stroking away the clotted blood. The young slave's skin was smooth and I was hurting him, though he was trying to conceal this. I put back his hair where blood matted it, and he opened his eyes. They were brown and soft.

I was quite close to him. He was no threat to me. He was in subjection, a branded slave, and in pain. His hands fell loosely between his knees and he would not dare to touch me. I leaned his head a little into my arm when the wound was clean, smearing on some of Lysane's stonecrop ointment. I wound the bandage around his head and secured it with a pin from my veil and he was docile under my handling, only wincing a little at the bite of the ointment.

'There,' I said.

He looked into my eyes and whispered, 'Thank you, Lady.' Common words, but uncommonly meant.

Abantos drained his cup and roared, 'More than a slave's head is worth, to be anointed by a princess. Get out to the fields, lazy one. And next time, when I am in a pot-throwing temper, Graios-'

'Yes, Thracian?' demanded Graios, getting to his feet, balanced, as if for a fight.

'Dodge,' the cook advised him. 'I'll make you one of the princess' honeycakes as an apology. Is that fair?'

'More than fair,' agreed Graios, and collided in the doorway with a fire-bearing Aulos, followed by the hod of charcoal with a howling boy underneath. Alceste had found Azeus, and spanked him.

I assessed the child as crying more as a matter of form than from any real injury, and joined my women at the long table and the meal-tub, where we were likely to be occupied all day. Abantos lit his fire again and began to concoct his famous bean soup, the secret of which, I hoped, he might one day share with me.

It was my household now, I realised. My people to be warmed and fed. My work to clothe them in my own spinning and protect them from winter and the heat of the sun. I was the mistress of the house, and I was suddenly very pleased.

'Consider the race of men,' announced Zeus from his throne. The assembled Gods sat down in their places.

'A little thing, crawling between Paradise and Hades' realm,' said Apollo dismissively.

'With a divine spark,' objected Demeter, Earth Mother.

'So brave,' said Ares. 'I wonder with so little life that they spill their blood like water.'

'For greed,' said Hermes, bored. 'For acquisition, territory, and malice.'

'For an idea,' said the Lord of the Gods.

We found out the secret the next day. We were sitting in the master's own apartments when a boy brought in a casket. It was a large, well-made plain wooden box, closed with a clasp. He laid it beside Chryse and went away.

'What's in it?' I asked.

'It's mine. These things I left here when Chryseis died, when I left for Troy,' he said sadly, turning the box around in his hands. Healer's hands, large and strong, with straight fingers. I asked, 'Are you going to open it?'

'Yes,' he said on a held breath.