Electra (20 page)

He had three fields. One was ranged with grapevines, budding along stone fences. They were coming into leaf, the pale new green of spring. Someone had taken great trouble with the fields. They were drained by ditches and fenced, from the depredations of the master's goats, by stone walls and hedges. The furrows of the furthest field were greening mistily; strong spears of wheat breaking through the black earth. The closest enclosure was planted with all manner of vegetables and herbs for healing or cooking. A boy was weeding the red-flowering beans, whistling through his teeth. His back was bare and showed no scars of flogging. He was unobserved - he could not see me in the window - but he bent and pulled at weeds enthusiastically.

That was a good sign. When the king is cruel, the work is done reluctantly and in sullen anger - that is what my father had said. When the king is too kind and not interested, the work is not done at all and the city falls into ruin. But when the king is willing to work with the slaves, then the task is done whether he watching or not, and he has no need to beat his workers.

I heard voices, and saw Pylades and my brother Orestes come into view. Orestes was leading Banthos - who was now, of course, Pylades' property - and our cousin was scrubbing mud from my little brother's side and shoulder. He had evidently fallen, though he did not seem to be injured. They were easy together, laughing, Orestes' face was turned up to Pylades, squinting against the early sun.

I felt a pang. Orestes had always been my own, and now he belonged to another. So did Banthos. That was perfectly right and in accordance with the laws, but I could not finish the bread and honey. When Lysane came to take the tray, she clucked again.

'Oh, Mistress, that Thracian will be angry!'

'It's the best bread I've ever tasted,' I said truthfully. 'Please, Lysane, you eat the rest and he will never know. Sit down, Lysane. Talk to me. Tell me about this estate.'

'It's in good heart,' she replied, sitting down on the floor at my feet and applying her remaining teeth to the bread and honey. 'There are seven people working here. Five are slaves, the Thracian, two labourers and Alceste and me. The rest are free men who live under the protection of Pylades, as we are remote from Delphi polis and not under the government of their demos. The master has two pair of oxen, a good flock of both goats and sheep - fine wool there, Mistress - and his fields bear well. Clonius the free man tells me that we sell oil and honey - there are seven beehives in the vegetable garden - to Delphi, and we grind enough flour for a year. That's his son, there, weeding. He gets a loaf of bread for every row free of weeds and he's a greedy child who loves his belly - the best motive, according to Clonius. There won't be a shoot in the wrong place by noon.'

Lysane had clearly been investigating every aspect of Pylades' establishment, and had gained an amazing amount of information in a very short time.

'Is the Lady used to a farm?' she asked, licking up the last crumb from the red plate.

'No, the Lady is not,' I said a little stiffly. She was fishing for information about me, too. Then I considered the breakfast and the soothing words and the presence of Pallas my doll and said, 'The Lady is used to a palace, and you will need to educate her. She wishes to help her cousin in the running of his house, and she does not wish to make mistakes.'

Lysane considered me for a long moment. She had bright black eyes, white hair knotted behind her corded neck, and a nutcracker face. Her cheeks had fallen in with her missing teeth, and her hands were knobbed and bony. But her smile was sweet and she seemed to like me and want to care for me. She patted my knee with her old fingers and said, 'Then shalt be the mistress, Lady, and govern all as you like. And if you want my help, shalt have it.'

I came down at noon, when the farm-workers are fed their main meal. It would be my task to supervise their diet, make sure that they had enough to eat but to guard against waste and gluttony. I had girded the rose-coloured chiton and put on my maiden's veil.

They all stopped eating and stared at me. I almost quailed under all those eyes. Then I gathered my courage and Lysane and I bowed to the master.

Pylades was deep in conversation with a man as gnarled as an old olive root and did not see us immediately. Alceste, who was laying platters of bread on the table, coughed, and Pylades looked up and sprang to his feet.

'I did not hope to see you today, Lady!' he exclaimed. 'Hear all men,' he said formally. 'This is my most noble cousin and the Lady of my house and you will obey her in all things.'

The workers scrambled to their feet and he introduced them by name. I could not imagine my father knowing the names of all his workers, but he had many, and I reminded myself that I was no longer in the palace of Mycenae.

'Clonius, the free man, and his son, Azeus. Aulos and Graios, they are slaves.' An old man and a boy bowed clumsily. Two young men avoided my eyes for some reason. 'This is Abantos, the Thracian. He is our cook.'

'You make very good bread,' I said to a huge man, big as a Cyclops. He was black with grime and he did not smile.

'Abantos, greet your mistress,' said Pylades with a hint of metal in his voice.

The huge man muttered, 'Lady,' and bowed. Lysane glared at him.

'Will you eat with us, Lady?' asked Pylades. This was not entirely proper, but what had Electra to do with propriety any more? The lentil soup smelled delicious and I was suddenly hungry. Orestes materialised at my side and took my hand, leading me to a seat at the master's left hand.

'I like this place,' he told me. 'My Lord Cousin is teaching me to ride.'

'Indeed?' I took up my wooden spoon so that the rest of the table could eat. Pylades had already gone back to a conversation about the best time to cut wood.

'It should have been done in autumn, Master,' said Clonius, the old man. 'Wood cut in spring is always sappy and will not dry.'

'But it was not cut in autumn,' replied Pylades patiently. 'And we must have wood. I need to repair the byre for the oxen and what if early snow catches the birthing ewes as it did last year? We lost three, and only managed to save one lamb.'

'We have women now,' the old man pointed out. 'Women care best for small creatures. Yes, very well, Master. I see what you are driving at. But if we leave the wood at least until high summer, there will be less sap and the planks will dry faster than if we cut it now. Unless you want a byre-roof which skews like rheumatic bones.'

'No, Clonius, I do not want that,' said Pylades calmly, sipping broth and reaching for another piece of bread.

'Or we could buy some building timber,' suggested the old man, gulping noisily. 'Stenor in the next valley has a pile of autumn-felled planks. He was going to build a new stable, but he killed his slave in a fit of rage, and he has no money to buy another man.'

'And none of his neighbours care to work for him,' put in Aulos. He was a slim young man with a brand on his chest and long straight black hair which was plaited into a braid over his forehead. Some kind of barbarian, evidently.

Pylades replied, 'I know. He asked for the loan of you and Graios, and I refused.'

'Thank you, Lord,' breathed Graios. He was also slim, almost thin, though he had a deep chest and the strong sinews which Father had said made a good fighter. His hair was pale and cropped short, probably for some misdeed.

'I would not send you to him,' said Pylades. 'I will not have my men mistreated. Well, Clonius, that is an idea. How much would Stenor want for his planks, do you think?'

'As much as he can squeeze out of us, Master. He drives a bargain like a nail.'

'Misers die poor,' said the Thracian unexpectedly.

'And live miserably,' agreed Pylades. 'What are you doing this afternoon, Clonius?'

'Paring the sheep's hoofs, Master. They overgrow while they are in stalls, and tender feet in spring produce footrot by autumn; that's what my grandfather said.'

'He was a wise man. Very well. I'll pare hoofs and you take the ass over to Stenor and ask about the wood. Get a price and inspect the planks carefully - no wormholes or cracked ones disguised with gum. If it seems expedient, ask the old miser to the noon meal tomorrow and we may get a better price if he is softened by Abantos' excellent broth.'

'He'd go anywhere for a free meal,' said Clonius, grinning.

I had eaten my soup and two pieces of bread. Orestes was smiling at me. I was impressed by Pylades' handling of his men. He was authoritative but friendly. And I had no doubt that he would care competently for his sheep while his freeman rode over the hills on the ass.

Presently the meal was concluded and the men clattered outside. The sun was warm, but not hot. In high summer I knew that they would sleep through the hottest part of the day, as we had in the palace at Mycenae.

The mastiff, Tauros, barked loudly, then put his head on his paws and went back to sleep. Clonius could be heard urging his son not to eat himself into oblivion while he was away, and I saw him bring out from the stable a fine, well-fed ass to be saddled.

Alceste and Lysane cleared the table, scraping the uneaten food into the pig's bucket and wiping the dishes clean. Abantos sprinkled ash over his kitchen fire, smoothing it into a glow which would be refreshed by new fuel for supper at nightfall. He muttered an excuse and left the kitchen, stalking into the courtyard.

'We'll have trouble with that one,' muttered Lysane, 'mark my words.'

'I mark them,' I said.

'Alceste, can't you do anything to humour him?' asked the old woman, bearing a pile of platters to a cupboard and piling them away. Alceste tossed back her dark-brown hair and put both hands on her ample hips.

'Me? Are you joking, old woman, or have you forgotten the lust of men? He'd crush me flatter than a grapeskin and split my belly - he's got a phallus like a flagpole.'

'Aha,' grinned Lysane. 'If you aren't interested in him, maiden, how do you know that?'

'I must have a look at the stored wool,' I said, standing up. I did not like their conversation. 'Arcturus is rising, my women. We will have to work hard all summer if we are to clothe nine people for the winter.'

'They say it bites hard here,' said Lysane. 'The wool is stored in the roof, Mistress. Clonius, the freeman, says that no one has spun it for three years.'

'And before that?'

'Oh, the master had two women living here then - he bought them from Phocis, where they say he is a prince. They were called Perithea and Asia. He loved Perithea, the old man says, and she bore him a girl child, Tisimene, but they were all carried off in the coughing fever three winters ago. Their spinning and weaving tools are in the roof. Clonius says that the master ordered them put there, because he did not want to be reminded of them. This way, Mistress.'

We began with the oldest bales. The spruce under the roof was stuffed with cleaned and tanned fleeces, goatskins, three oxhides for boots, and the household goods of the dead women. I found a basket of spindles and loom weights, three heddles for separating the warp, and all the instruments for carding and sewing. In the warm attic I considered a leather folder full of precious sewing needles. Someone, perhaps a child, had laboriously embroidered a flying bird on the front.

Impulsively, I kissed the bird, resolving that Pylades' daughter Tisimene should not be forgotten.

As chattering women do, we spun endless lines of woollen thread and talked and sang and told stories.

And as women who must live together do, we exchanged our lives.

Lysane stretched and said, 'Ah, it is hard to be old and a slave.'

'How did you come to be a slave?'

'The fools of my village decided to get involved in a war between Athens and Tegea,' she said sadly. 'We lost. The Tegean women and children were made slaves. Ten years ago I had my own house, a son and a grandson. Now they are dead or enslaved and I am here, Lady, and likely to die in slavery. But we take what the Gods send,' she said, winding wool around a shuttle. 'I am content.'

'And you, Alceste?'

'I was born a slave,' she said, shaking back her dark-brown hair. 'My mother was a bondswoman and I was her master's child. I lived with her until I was twelve, and then Master sold me to an old man. I did not like him. His breath smelled foul and he had… strange desires. Thus I was pleased when the Lord Pylades bought me. I will never be free, but no woman is free. I will do my best to serve you, Lady. And maybe I will catch the eye of a passing freeman who needs a strong wife. Here I will learn how to manage a farm.'

'And I,' I felt that I had to return confidence for confidence, 'I was a princess in a stone city. I was… misused as a child, in my mother's care.'

They were looking at me without blame, and I was encouraged to go on. 'That's why I have bad dreams. Then my mother…' I choked. Lysane embraced me and Alceste fetched me a cup of unmixed wine.

'We have heard the story, Princess,' said the old woman. 'There is no shame in being dishonoured so young. The shame lies with your mother, for allowing such a thing to happen, ay, and on the man who did it, curse all of that sex for lechers and monsters. And revenge will fall on the house of Atreus, Lady. The Gods do not permit such misdeeds to go unpunished forever.'

We could see out of the window as the work of the spring went on. Pylades worked hard, tilling the vines, as the swallow cried mournfully.

'She is Pandion's daughter,' Alceste told me, as the sun crept across the floor. The spindle-weights spun smoothly as cream-coloured thread wound around them.

'The swallow?' I asked. I had not heard the story.

'She was the daughter of Pandion the prince, so beautiful that the birds called to her across the meadows,' chanted Alceste. 'Her sister Procne married Tereus, the king, an unloving husband, and she sent for her sister Philomela to keep her company. She came, and Tereus fell in love with her, his wife's sister, forbidden to him by the wise Gods.'

She stopped spinning to wind her wool into a skein, thumb to elbow in a smooth movement.

'What happened to her?' I asked.