Homer’s Daughter (24 page)

Clytoneus now rapped on the floor with his spear butt and shouted: “My lords, enough! This assembly is getting out of control. I suggest that you all go home to sleep off the heady fumes of wine. Tomorrow is the day of days, and we must be fresh to meet it.”

“A very sensible suggestion,” agreed Amphinomus. “I propose a parting cup each. Let us drink to our amity and long life, and pour a libation to the ghost of Prince Clytoneus's admirable but luckless uncle.”

This was done, and the suitors went reeling away down the dark street.

Clytoneus and Aethon were left together in the darkening court. “Come, Cousin Clytoneus,” said Aethon, “those arms pegged on the walls must be removed. We cannot prevent the suitors from bringing swords, but swords are for use at close quarters only, and I hope to avoid a hand-to-hand struggle. If they get hold of javelins and spears and shields, we lose our advantage after the first surprise.”

“What about the helmets?”

“They must go with the rest. To leave nothing but helmets would arouse suspicions.”

“Suspicions will be aroused in any case unless, perhaps, I announce that the arms have been taken down at my mother's
orders, ‘as a precaution against bloodshed, should Nausicaa's choice cause pardonable jealousy.'”

“That story might do well enough. But it would be even better, I think, if some of the women were to start whitewashing the walls early tomorrow morning, as if in preparation for the wedding. Weapons are always removed when whitewashing begins.”

“I shall give Eurycleia her instructions at once.”

When Eurycleia came into the court, he said: “Nurse, I propose to have these cloisters whitewashed before the wedding; so we must take down the weapons. They need a thorough cleaning and anyhow are best out of the way: my sister's suitors might quarrel again as they did this evening, and use them on one another.”

“Let them, for all I care, the nasty creatures! But don't you start moving things about at this time of night. I'll send the maids along to help.”

“The maids? No; they can't be trusted with valuable weapons. Yesterday when I gave Melantho my helmet to scour she dropped and dinted it. Nevertheless, I hate to have servants around when I'm doing work which should really be left to them; so I want the door of the women's quarters barred while I lug the arms across to the storeroom.”

“It is dark in the passage.”

“This beggarman will light my way with a torch. He owes me service for the food that I gave him. The storeroom key, please.”

“Mind you return it, my child.”

While she barred the maids out, Aethon and Clytoneus unhooked the whole collection of javelins, spears, shields and
helmets and carried them down the passage; which was a laborious task, because we keep enough arms handy to supply the entire household in case of a sudden pirate raid. Eurycleia waited until they had finished and Clytoneus went to kennel Argus for the night. Then, unbarring the door, she called the maids into the court, setting them to clear away the remains of the banquet, sweep the floor and wipe the tables. My mother never allowed any mess to be left over till the next morning, however late the guests might retire. She came herself to supervise, and had her chair placed in its usual position beside the hearth where the haggises had been roasted.

At her orders, Eurycleia checked the cups and discovered that two of the best gold goblets were missing—those set before Leiocritus and Ctesippus. My mother smiled faintly. “Leiocritus and Ctesippus,” she said, “seem to have decided that neither of them is likely to be chosen as my son-in-law. They will keep those goblets as hostages for the return of their bride gifts. What careful noblemen they are, to be sure!”

Melantho noticed Aethon engaged in shovelling ashes from the braziers and laying new fuel on the embers. Snatching up a burning torch, she shouted threats at him: “Still here to plague and insult us? Be off, rascal, or you'll find yourself thrown into the street with a singed rump.”

My mother turned round and said furiously: “Drop that torch this instant, you slut, or it will be your rump that is singed.” Then she asked Aethon: “Are you not the man who brings news of my lost son?”

“Mere rumours, Queen,” Aethon answered humbly, “and for your ear alone. These maids might carry them in an embellished
form to your daughter-in-law; and I should never forgive myself if her hopes were raised unnecessarily. Let none mistake me for the sort of man who invents lies in hope of gain. Not even were I starving—”

“Come, Eurycleia,” interrupted my mother, “fetch a settle and cover it with a sheepskin for my prudent guest. Then summon the Princess Nausicaa, also Prince Clytoneus. I should like them to hear the rumours, and decide whether there can be any truth in them. But nobody else.” Presently she said: “The maids seem to have finished now. Good night, girls, away with you to bed! Good night, Eurycleia!”

Soon the four of us were together beside the hearth. Seldom have I felt so ill at ease. We all waited for my mother to speak, and after a while she asked Aethon: “So you have no news of my son Laodamas?”

“None, Queen, except what I have gleaned from your son and daughter. Pray pardon my ruse for addressing you in private, and allow me to console with you as your kinsman.”

“Who are you?”

“My father was a Cretan nobleman of Tarrha; my mother was your cousin Erinna, whom pirates stole.”

She looked him up and down, and at length held out her hand. “You have the family underlip,” she said. “My daughter Nausicaa has it too. Perhaps that is why she loves you: seeing her own face in yours, she admires it, as is natural. And since this feature denotes a quiet fixity of purpose, let us hope that you are not adverse to marrying her.”

Aethon flushed as red as a split pomegranate. My face went white, I believe. The suddenness of the suggestion was
terrible. Had it been anyone in the world other than my mother I should have gone for her, tooth and nail. After gulping once or twice, Aethon answered: “Queen, kinswoman, prophetess—if you are not jesting with me, how can I thank you? Indeed, my heart matches her heart as her lip matches mine; only our fortunes are unequal. Since I first set eyes on lovely Nausicaa, I have thought of little else but how to remedy this difference between her riches and my rags.”

“Aethon,” said my mother softly, “you can count on my perpetual favour and support. My price is that Laodamas's and Mentor's ghosts be avenged.”

“They are my own kinsmen,” he answered, “and I fight blood feuds to the bitter end, because of my Cretan upbringing.”

He told us of Crete: the most glorious island in the whole sea, and densely populated. It has no less than ninety cities, and five separate races, each speaking a distinct dialect: the Achaeans; the Pelasgians; the Cydonians of Phoenicia; the Dorians with their three clans who worship respectively Demeter, Apollo and Hercules; the true Cretans of Tarrha. Drepanum, Aethon said, reminded him irresistibly of Tarrha, because of its westerly position, its maritime glories, its high walls and fertile shore. It was to Tarrha, he boasted, that Apollo and Artemis came to be purified as children after killing the serpent Python, who had tried to destroy their mother Leto; and in honour of these deities the Tarrhans had for centuries cultivated archery, of which they were the acknowledged masters.”

“And you?” asked my mother.

“I became a servitor of Apollo when I took arms,” he said.
“The mystagogues purged me with buckthorn and performed certain rites, and then a horn bow was put into my hands. I was instructed first to shoot between the recurved blades of twelve double axes set in a row, and next to pierce the throat of a gliding serpent. Both seem impossible shots, yet the initiate accomplishes them without fail in Apollo's name.”

Noticing Clytoneus's surprise, Aethon explained: “An uninitiated archer relies on his reason. He allows for the strength of the bow, for the weight of the arrow, for the wind, for the tricks of light which deceive the eye when he judges distance, for the speed and direction of the object at which he aims. But by reason he will hit only a simple target; whereas the adept will strike the smallest or swiftest mark. He does not use reason, being inspired by deathless Apollo.”

“I still do not understand.”

“Have you ever, in fear, thrown a stone at a savage Molossian hound that came rushing towards you, and struck him full on the snout? If so, a god possessed you. Once, near Gaza, twenty Philistines ran across our company's front to outflank us. My haste made me miss their leader but, invoking Apollo, I shot the remaining nineteen dead, one after the other; and a running mail-clad man is no easy target.”

When we gazed incredulously at Aethon, he seemed unperturbed. “Though they say that all Cretans are liars,” he said, “who has ever dared dispute our claim to be master archers?”

A long silence followed, which my mother broke at last by saying: “Children, it is time for bed. What you three have plotted together I do not wish to hear; only let it be for the honour of this house and the satisfaction of our beloved ghosts.
Aethon, I shall send you a folding bed with blankets and sheets and a goose-down pillow.”

“Thank you, Queen. I am used to sleeping rough, and any such attention would cause comment.”

“At least accept a foot bath.”

“If Eurycleia would consent to give me one…”

“Eurycleia will do as she is ordered. Good night. Come, Nausicaa!”

We went indoors, and Eurycleia, having lighted Clytoneus
to bed with a taper and folded his tunic neatly for him, re
turned to wash Aethon's feet. They talked about me for nearly an hour; and Aethon won her heart. She burst into my bedroom in high excitement. “My darling, Aethon is no beggar after all. He is a Cretan nobleman in disguise and a very brave, talented one. From the intimate questions he asked me, the dear man seems to love you madly. Ah, if only he were one of your approved suitors! I fear that the King will never give his consent to the union—even if your feelings—” She broke off and grinned at me in affectionate enquiry.

It was bad enough when Clytoneus and my uncle Mentor decided to unite me with Aethon; and worse when my mother realized that I loved him, and said so in public; but when Eurycleia began talking in the same strain I choked for rage and snapped at her: “I trust that you gave this Cretan adventurer evasive answers, Nurse, whatever the questions were? You seem to be forgetting your station in life. Slaves are allowed to speculate among themselves on the business of their owners—who can stop them?—but to betray intimate confidence to strangers, that is sheer wickedness!”

“Darling, is this the way you should talk to the old woman who dandled you on her knees; and dried your tears when you tumbled on your nose; and taught you to make daisy chains? I told this noble Cretan nothing that you would not have liked him to know. Besides, when I washed his feet I recognized him instantly for one of your mother's family. They all have that high instep and that long second toe. Only think, he turns out to be poor Erinna's boy! I have often told you how she was stolen. It took me years to recover from the sorrow and shock. Aethon is your cousin, child. Just look at his underlip!”

“To the crows with his underlip,” I cried. Then, seeing that I had wounded her feelings, I flung my arms around Eurycleia and began to sob. “Oh, Nurse, I am so miserable. Can I ever marry him? To appease the suitors and save our house from destruction, I have promised to name my husband. They insist that the wedding must be celebrated tomorrow night. Unless by some divine intervention my father returns before then, how can I attain my heart's desire?”

Eurycleia patted my shoulders and stroked my hair. “Why not announce that you have consented to marry him?”

“Don't be absurd. They would never agree.”

“Well, then, darling, what Medea did at Drepane, you must do at Drepanum.”

I wrinkled my forehead.

“Demodocus sang the
Golden Fleece
two summers ago,” Eurycleia prompted. “Surely you remember?”

“Oh, dearest Nurse, the Goddess speaks with your withered lips. Why, that is the very thing!”

The story went like this:

Medea, fleeing from Colchis in Jason's company, took refuge at Drepane, where Alcinous was King. When the Colchian admiral, sent in pursuit, demanded her surrender and that of the Golden Fleece which she and Jason had stolen, Alcinous reserved his answer until the next day. At this, Queen Arete, taking pity on Medea, begged him to consider the cruel death which awaited her if she were carried back to Colchis. Alcinous answered that he could make no promise, but would judge the case on its merits. However, Arete persuaded him to explain the legal consequences of Medea's flight, which could be reduced to this: “If Medea is still a virgin, she must return to Colchis; if not, she has the right to stay with Jason.” Arete hurriedly arranged a marriage for the lovers in the Cave of Macris, and when next morning Alcinous delivered his judgement they were already man and wife. The Colchians therefore sailed away in disgust; but Jason and Medea proceeded to Corinth, where they became King and Queen.

A whispering and the soft tread of naked feet along the passage. Eurycleia rose angrily.

“What is that?” I asked.

“Melantho and her fellow harlots have a rendezvous with their lovers, I suppose. After you had gone to bed I heard the bars of the front door being stealthily drawn. They will escape into the garden by the banqueting court, instead of by the side door, which I not only barred but locked.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Catch them! And ask the Queen's leave to flog them raw tomorrow.”

“No, leave this to me, Eurycleia. They might set on you.”

I stole from the bedroom and, following at a discreet distance down the staircase, reached the banqueting court just as the last of the women had disappeared into the garden. Then I closed and barred the door behind them. A light blazed up suddenly. Aethon had flung some dry shavings and heart-of-pine kindling sticks on the fire. “Stop where you are,” he muttered, “unless you want your brains dashed out.” He sprang towards me, swinging a heavy faggot. I laughed. Aethon laughed too and took both my hands in his.