Electra. Kerry Greenwood

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СКАЧАТЬ will be enough for the whole village. You want to calm them, don't you? Perhaps we should give some to our friend?'

      Eumides, perhaps a little elevated by the scented meadows, was dancing along the goat path, singing a very rude Thracian song.

      'I'd make a decoction and add this to their barley gruel,' I said.

      Chryse beamed. His rare smile was to be treasured. He seemed to radiate joy.

      'Healer, I thought that was my own discovery. Though I would add basil for healing and moisture - their stomachs must be shrunken and dry - and, let's see, it's too early for birch sap, we'll have to use young nettles for strength.'

      'Basil is an excellent idea, but I haven't seen any nettles.'

      From the goat path we heard a thud and a torrent of exceptionally complicated oaths in a variety of languages.

      'I think Eumides has found some,' said Chryse calmly.

      The avatar of the Goddess Artemis laughed so much that she had to sit down.

      V

      Sunlight poured like honey down on Olympus, home of the Gods, but a dark cloud threatened from the east. Zeus, Father of Laws, was concerned.

      'The House of Atreus is cursed,' he rumbled.

      'Then cleanse the earth of them,' urged Apollo. 'Strike with your lightnings, remove the dreadful Queen and her lover, demonstrate the justice of the Gods.'

      'And what is to become of this poor Princess Electra and her brother?' asked Aphrodite, rolling the golden apple along the floor.

      'This matter has lasted through many generations,' commented Athena. 'Tantalus, intending to offend the Gods, offered baked child to them and now spends eternity in Hades' kingdom, thirsting, hungering. Then Pelops, his son, restored by your direct orders, Father, killed his father-in-law and married Hippodameia. His sons were Atreus and Thyestes of bitter memory. We helped Atreus' children to reach Troy and the city is obliterated, and many of my heroes are dead. The army that went with him is decimated. Because of the sacrifice of Iphigenia, and her own wickedness, Clytemnestra the Queen has murdered her husband. Now a new revenge-child, strangely conceived, is journeying to another death. Finish the House of Atreus, Zeus Father. I weary of their crime.'

      'They are my children,' said a scornful voice. They turned and recoiled.

      Hecate, Drinker of Dog's Blood, stroked a hissing snake, pushing it back behind her head-dress. 'The House of Atreus is mine. I have helped your Cassandra escape, Aphrodite, because it pleased me and she called on me. She belongs to me, as the sailor is Poseidon's, and the Asclepid is Apollo's. She is a priestess of the Mother, and I am the Dark Mother aspect of Gaia. I will protect her. The House of Atreus must fall, finally and forever. Mycenae shall lie empty to the crows and the snakes. My Erinyes will punish crimes of blood. To a dark ending, to irreparable guilt and grief, are these pitiful Atreidae travelling.'

      She bared pointed teeth, flicking her serpent's tongue. 'Oppose me if you dare.'

      Electra

      The next Artemision was a whole day's journey away, the goat-path endlessly winding along the slopes of a mountain and then wearily down to a little stone village in the valley. We were all tired as we rode into the main square and dismounted stiffly.

      The elders of the demos met us, old men, prosperous and fat, their skins shining with oil. The village, they said, had been blessed with a bumper olive harvest and was thriving. So much so that they had bought five new slave women, and proposed to house us with them.

      I was eager to get inside, away from the gaze of all those eyes. The villagers brought water and ceremonially washed our hands and offered us bread and salt, making us xenoi, guests, under sacred law and not to be molested. The air was full of the comfortable smell of everyone's food cooking.

      Children played with a dog in the dust outside our door and I sat down to watch them, after I had groomed my faithful Banthos. It appeared that they were playing Heracles, with the dog cast as the Nemean Lion. It kept forgetting to be fierce and licked them. They were charming. Their laughter, high and innocent, followed me inside as it began to get dark.

      I rolled myself in my cloak and lay down on the Artemision's sheepskins, favouring my bruises. I noticed that after only a few days I was becoming stronger, more able to ride for a long time, less sensitive to the strong light and the wind and the rigours of travel. It was a really interesting world. I had never watched it from the outside before.

      I woke in the dead of night because someone was crying softly; crying like a child or a slave cried, muffled for shame, trying not to attract attention. I touched Orestes but he was asleep beside me.

      I had to do something. Tears started in my own eyes in response. I had cried many nights like that, my face buried in my pillow or my doll, hoping that no one would hear and ask me why. I had to help her.

      I crawled to the brazier, which had a glow right at the centre, obtained a coal and lit the oil lamp. A tiny bead of flame illuminated the white-washed walls. Cassandra, Chryse Diomenes and Eumides clasped together under their cloak. Four slave women were asleep in a row, snoring.

      One maiden curled up in a ball, weeping as though her heart would break.

      I knelt beside her and whispered, 'What is wrong?'

      She opened her wet eyes and said miserably, 'It is nothing, Lady.'

      'No, it is something,' I said as gently as I could. I noticed that she was hiding her right hand, and touched it. 'Are you hurt?'

      'My mistress ordered me to weave an ell of cloth today,' she muttered, allowing me to unfold the injured hand and look at the red mark across the knuckles. She was badly bruised and must have been in considerable pain.

      'And you could not do it, and she struck you?' I asked.

      'She struck me so that I could not do it. Tomorrow she will flog me for not completing my task. She is an old wife and there is an old master and he favours me,' she said very quietly.

      'She will maim me if this goes on, and then the old man will sell me, and what use shall I be to anyone? I might as well be dead. I can't please the mistress by refusing the master or he will beat me.'

      'We can at least prevent tomorrow's beating,' I said. Poor maiden, she scraped back her dark hair and stared. How?'

      'Where is your loom?'

      'There against the wall, Lady, but you can't-'

      'Can't I? And we will wake a healer to look at your hand. In the morning I will speak to your mistress. What's your name?'

      'Clea, Lady.'

      As I stood up, she embraced my knees in gratitude, though it was a small enough favour.

      I woke Cassandra from between her lovers and she sat down to compound an ointment for the injury, while I stood to the loom. I examined the rows which had already been woven. It was a simple pattern, a herring-bone weave very common amongst the poorer families in Mycenae. It is very satisfying to weave and I could manage it half-asleep in the dark.

      I unpicked a СКАЧАТЬ