The Girl From Ithaca (6 page)

At first, the brightly patterned floor in the entrance hall took all my attention. Forcing myself to look further, I saw a row of servants waiting to welcome me. I smiled, but they didn’t respond. Behind them were colourful wall paintings of lions and bulls, all bigger and more detailed than any of the frescoes in Ithaca. I glanced across to the opposite wall and saw an elaborate hunting scene running along the whole length.

Clytemnestra walked slowly, giving me time to admire the paintings. “Agamemnon is very proud of his hunting prowess,” she said. “It is something he does a lot of, when he’s not at war.”

She paused beside a stone statue. It was of a bull, with the figures of two men struggling to hold onto its horns.

“And he’s especially proud of this. It was his father’s and shows his family’s connections to the island of Crete. I’m not sure if you know, but the Cretans believe the bull represents prosperity and strength. By holding the horns, the men have conquered the bull, so our household will become strong and prosperous.” Clytemnestra laughed and added, “At least, that’s what the Cretans claim.”

Then she clapped her hands and a small, white-haired servant appeared at our side. “Take our guest through the east corridors and escort her to the main hall. There’s no need to hurry; I want everybody to be ready for her when she arrives. Wait in the hall and afterwards escort her to the women’s quarters.”

The servant led me through shadowy stone passageways, lit by torches fixed along the walls. I caught glimpses of more paintings as we passed by. Most were hunting scenes, showing men with spears chasing stags or wild boar, sometimes on foot and sometimes in chariots. But when we drew closer to the centre of the palace, the paintings changed into processions of women holding flowers and depictions of bulls with boys and young men leaping over them.

I paused to look at one of the bulls. The servant walked on, disappearing round a bend so that his huge, deformed shadow crept along the wall in front of me. I stifled a cry. It was as if the Minotaur, the half bull, half man monster from Crete, stalked me, hunted me, waited to trap and devour me. I hurried after the man, telling myself sternly that the Minotaur had been killed by Theseus many years ago, and was certainly not waiting for me in the palace of Mycenae.

There was a barrage of voices somewhere ahead of us. Many voices. Getting louder with every step we took. The servant led me into a small room that had empty stone benches along the sides and a brightly patterned floor. He paused and pointed to the door. I nodded that I was ready.

He opened the doors very quietly. For one brief moment I gazed unseen into a corner of the hall, seeing two pink and yellow columns and a fresco of marching soldiers. Then the servant led me in. Most guests sat at two long tables. My eyes flickered to the high table where the queen and other important people were sitting. The servant held out his hand, indicating I must walk the impossibly long distance on my own.

Clytemnestra sat directly in front of me at the far end of the room but she’d turned her head to the side, talking to Agamemnon’s cousin standing behind her. The cousin glanced up in my direction, whispered something to Clytemnestra and she looked around. She smiled and rose to her feet. Immediately her guests stopped talking. All was silent except for the sound of my footsteps on the tiled floor. My legs shaking, I concentrated on Clytemnestra and forgot all else. Then she was reaching out and offering me the empty seat between herself and a young girl. I slipped into place as quickly as I could and then glanced at the girl. She was sitting upright and rigid, her eyes slightly downcast. Dressed in an adult’s gown, she seemed like a child playing at dressing up. When she turned towards me, our eyes met.

We both jumped as Agamemnon’s cousin banged his fist on the table and called for silence. My stomach tightened. Iphigenia’s small hands were trembling.

Clytemnestra spoke to the whole chamber, her voice as strong as any man I’d heard. “Our guest from Ithaca has arrived and we will start our great feast. I give thanks to goddess Artemis for allowing our hunters a successful hunt yesterday.” She nodded to the servants and they hurried in with platters, the smell of the cooked meats wafting over us.

“Tomorrow is Princess Iphigenia’s wedding day.” Clytemnestra turned to face her daughter. “Sadly, I am unable to be with her. The king has broken the tradition of our city and decreed she will marry Prince Achilles at the port of Aulis, not here in our own land. I’m sure that all mothers in Mycenae will join me in feeling the pain of this slight.”

There was a smattering of women sitting amongst the mass of men. Most shook their heads in sympathy with their queen’s obvious hurt; a few dared to look at Iphigenia and sigh. Iphigenia kept her eyes fixed on the table in front of her.

“For many years I have dreamt of sharing my daughter’s marriage ceremony with you, my fellow Mycenaeans. You’re the important people of the city. You feed us and fill our storerooms. You build our ships and bring us Macedonian wine and fine jewels from Egypt. You supply the weapons that equip our army. Yet all have been excluded from the celebration. Therefore, as compensation to you and to show my love for my daughter, I offer you this feast.” Clytemnestra raised her goblet. “May the gods protect Princess Iphigenia on her wedding day.”

She took a long drink of the wine. The guests did the same and when Clytemnestra sat down, they started to eat from platters full of meat, bread, herbs and fruit. Everyone seemed to be eating and talking, laughing and drinking, thankfully losing interest in the young princess and the guest from Ithaca.

I wanted to talk to Iphigenia, but Clytemnestra led a battery of questions about Penelope and my family. “I thought Penelope foolish when she agreed to marry an Ithacan,” she said, still drinking the wine. “It wasn’t because Odysseus is poor and not very handsome or tall. It was the place, I mean, rocky, little Ithaca. She’d spent most of her life in the luxury of Sparta, so I didn’t think she’d last one winter with all those goats and pigs.”

I forced a smile and decided it was best not to mention how my father felt more at home on his farm than in the palace and that he’d already taught Penelope all he knew about pig breeding.

“The gods like to play games with our lives,” Clytemnestra said, swirling the wine around her goblet. “It seems Cousin Penelope is happy in Ithaca, whilst I, with a treasury piled high with gold and oil, cannot bear to set eyes on my husband.” She laughed. “This war, the war that Agamemnon has wanted for so long, is not … ”

Agamemnon’s cousin leant over to Clytemnestra and took the goblet from her hand. “The drink loosens your tongue, my lady. You say too much.”

“No, Aegisthus, I do not say enough! Iphigenia is to be snatched away and my husband does it to spite me, to prove he can ruin what little happiness I have. I shall not bear it, do you hear? I shall not bear it.”

“Hush, calm yourself. You attract attention … my lady. Now is not the time.”

Clytemnestra lowered her voice but they continued to argue. I turned to Iphigenia. She looked up and waited for me to speak, her expectant face more that of a child than of a woman nearly married. How could I help her when I knew so little? I chewed at a piece of bread and then coughed as it caught in my throat. A servant startled me by appearing at my shoulder and handing me a cup of water.

Eventually I mumbled something about my journey with Phoebus.

“Phoebus is kind. I wish he could stay here, to advise Mother,” Iphigenia said quietly. She glanced at Clytemnestra and then fell silent.

I tried again. “Your wedding tomorrow. I’ve heard Prince Achilles is a great warrior.”

“That’s why father wants him in his alliance. The messenger said father sent Odysseus in search of him, to offer me as a wife. Achilles accepted and is taking his army to Aulis, ready for war and marriage.” She looked down at the food and then pushed her plate away. “He’ll think me a very poor bargain.”

I realised we had no need to speak. We understood each other’s predicament without the need for words. We clasped hands, as if in our own personal alliance, and hardly ate a morsel from the array put before us. When those around us had had their fill, Clytemnestra stood up again.

“Now is the time for entertainment. First, the acrobats, my daughter’s favourite,” she said, turning to smile at Iphigenia.

Ten acrobats were ushered into the hall. They bowed their heads before Clytemnestra and then backed away into the centre, near the hearth, so all the guests could see them. As the four strongest men stood in a line and the next three climbed onto their shoulders, Iphigenia brightened a little.

“My mother has been generous. Watch the boy who climbs to the top. He’s the best of all.”

The acrobats formed a tall tower of men, three layers high. When the final two steadied themselves on the shoulders of the men underneath, the lightest and most agile of the group stepped forward. I looked at Iphigenia and she nodded. The chatter of voices hushed. We all watched the boy as he climbed steadily to the top of the tower.

Finally he stood on the shoulders of the two men, standing straight, his arms open wide. The men at the base slowly rotated, so all could see the boy’s smiling face. Then Iphigenia tightened her grip on my hand. Moments later, the boy somersaulted from the top and landed on his feet. He bowed to the queen and many in the audience stood and cheered, throwing gold at his feet.

“He’s handsome, don’t you think?” Iphigenia said. “I hope Prince Achilles looks like him.”

As the acrobats arranged themselves into a circle, ready for their next display, I looked past them to the wall painting on the opposite end of the hall. It showed a battle around a walled city. Warriors fought in hand-to-hand combat under the walls, while women watched from the windows. Perhaps Agamemnon had planned an attack on Troy as he sat here and gazed at the scene? I studied the warrior falling from the walls. Agamemnon should have listened to Phoebus instead.

After the acrobats came the jugglers. Five girls combined dancing with throwing and catching clay balls. They were also rewarded with cheers and gold. Finally a bard sang us the story of the goddess Aphrodite’s birth and how she emerged from the sea as the beautiful, fully-grown goddess of love.

The bard’s voice was smooth and his lyre melodic. Despite my interest in his tale, my eyelids were growing heavy. It had been a long, long day. I noticed Iphigenia yawn, her eyes half closed and her face suddenly pale. Clytemnestra had not said a word during the entertainments and when the bard finished his tale, and was about to start another, she shook her head slightly. Seeing the signal, the old man put down his lyre. Clytemnestra declared the feast at an end.

The white-haired servant appeared at my side and led me through more passageways to the women’s quarters. Another servant showed me to a room, scurrying ahead of me like a little mouse and lighting the lamp in quick, jerky movements. She pointed to the washing bowl and an array of oils before wishing me good night. Quickly I washed, then took the lamp and looked around the room. On one side I saw beautiful ornaments: ivory carvings of animals, a gold box inlaid with amber and an alabaster statuette of a young girl. I picked up the small statue and noted the detail in her face, her hair and even in the folds of her robe. In the hands of the skilled sculptor, the white stone looked like a living person, with flowing fabric draped around her body.

I replaced the girl carefully and looked along the opposite wall. There was a row of vases in the shape of naked women, some not very flattering, and another row of two-handled gold goblets. All this in a room they kept for guests! I waved my lamp into one of the corners and saw the glimmer of yet more ornaments, but I could barely keep my eyes open. They’d have to wait until morning.

Lamb skins lay on the bed and I tumbled onto them, grateful to feel their warmth and softness. I pulled up the woollen covers and immediately fell asleep.

Chapter FIVE

Iphigenia

E
arly the next morning I had just joined Iphigenia in the entrance hall when Clytemnestra swept in and embraced her daughter.

“Try not to be scared,” Clytemnestra whispered. Then she stepped back and spoke more formally, her words intended for the officials encircling them. “Now is the time for the princess to cast off childish things and start her life as a woman. Tonight I will sacrifice to the goddess Hera. May the gods bless my daughter and grant her many strong sons.”

One of the servants ran past me and placed something small in Clytemnestra’s hand. Clytemnestra presented it to Iphigenia. “Here is a gift from your childhood home. May it give you good fortune always.”

I saw Iphigenia’s lip quiver. “A little lion.”

Clytemnestra nodded. “The Lion of Atreus, ready to guard you in your married life.”

Iphigenia flung her arms around her mother for one last time and then rushed to her younger sister, unable to stem the tears any longer.