Helen Had a Sister

by Penelope Haines

  I used the ritual phrases, welcoming the guest into our home and offering him the assistance granted to such a visitor. “Come, friend, and give us something. Do you have news, or a story you can share with us? You appear to be noble. May I know whom I address?” I finished with a query. So far that had been no indication of who he was or why he had come to Mycenae.

  He rose slowly to his feet. I noticed his moves were careful and well balanced. I imagined he did training drills regularly. He raised his goblet to me. “All thanks to the lady of these halls. I come as a guest, seeking your hospitality, which you have already provided so generously.”

  I raised my goblet to mirror his and waited.

  “I claim kin with you, lady, and my joy in this meeting is unrivalled. You are beautiful, gracious and a most generous host. Your kindness pleases Zeus who watches over us all.”

  He raised the goblet again and drank a toast.

  I was irritated. Kin? I couldn’t place who he could be. No relation of mine, I was certain. If he was related to my husband, then I was sure I had never met him.

  “Your piety is exemplary, sir. May I know whom I address?” I was bored with games. The man was attractive, but Orestes needed to get to bed, and Electra too, if her yawns had been any indication. I didn’t have the time to waste on pretentious civility.

  He lowered his head and bowed before me. “I am Aegisthus, lady. Your cousin.”

  Zeus! I knew that name. This was the other contender for the throne of Mycenae. As I understood it, Agamemnon had driven him out, after killing his father Thyestes.

  Strictly speaking, he was Agamemnon’s cousin, not mine, although marriage eliminated that distinction. Most certainly he was Agamemnon’s enemy; by extension, of course, he should be mine. I stared at him until it became clearly unmannerly to do so.

  “That is a name I didn’t expect to hear in these halls.” It wasn’t the most inspired speech I had ever managed, but the man had caught me off balance.

  Suddenly his face was alive with life and laughter. “No, lady. You probably didn’t expect to hear my name.” He gave a laugh. “May I say I am glad to meet you? Your safety is sacrosanct. You need have no fear about my presence. I am Mycenaean, born and bred, and I have been in exile for too long. I claim a kinsman’s right to return to the place of my birth and visit my kin.”

  I couldn’t help but respond to his vitality. How long, I wondered, had it been since a face in these halls had been alight with laughter, enthusiasm or desire? Then, immediately, and in equal measure, I felt my folly. I was no longer young or desirable. Two days ago I had held out my arms and seen the sagging skin beneath. My face, in the mirror, had lines I had never noticed. It was enough to stiffen my spine. Had I been younger I would have been yearning for his bed. Recognising my unattractiveness, I could maintain a calm demeanour.

  “You are, naturally, most welcome as my kinsman. You know I cannot protect you against those who would use history to discredit you or cause you harm. Still, may you sleep well tonight in the safety of my protection. Tomorrow we will talk again.”

  I turned away. Orestes had become a convenient alibi. I hauled him to his feet, tersely ordered Electra to follow us, and left the hall.

  That night, needless to say, I couldn’t sleep. Surely I had noticed before that I was a woman of breeding years without the comfort of a husband in my bed at nights? Certainly I had, but my choices were constrained. I never wished to share anything with Agamemnon again, but I was, nevertheless, a queen. I couldn’t take a commoner to my bed, even had I found one I desired. And I hadn’t. The remaining representatives of our noble families were at least twenty years older than me, if a day. None were a tempting prospect.

  By default, I had developed some considerable skill with my own right hand. It was safe, private and probably more satisfying than an ungenerous lover. Had I been prepared to reinstate my husband, he would have had trouble nowadays competing with the satisfaction I gave myself.

  I made generous use of my talents that night. I decided I needed to arm myself against any charm offensive from this unknown cousin, and the best way to do so was to preempt such physical needs as I might have. That night I almost raped myself in my determination to retain control over my emotions.

  While Myrto was alive I had allowed nothing to come between me and my duty, but now I made sure family duties constrained me the next day and eliminated the chance of encountering our disturbing guest.

  I wasn’t sure how to respond to Aegisthus. His physical charms were only one issue. Did his presence meant he was intending an overarching claim to power in Mycenae? So far, and in Agamemnon’s absence, I had managed to cling on to power in his name. A large part of that success lay in two camps: there were so few men left to challenge me, and Myrto’s support had given me security. I didn’t have that any more. Decisions made from now on were made without that support. I was certain Aegisthus knew that already. He was a vitally attractive man, but there was more at work here than sexual tension and a family reunion.

  I couldn’t avoid him that evening in the hall. I had taken some pains to organise things in my favour. Aegisthus was given the honoured seat – as he was a close relative of my husband’s, I could do no less. As might be expected, no etiquette I knew instructed me how to deal with a scion of a family my husband had tried to destroy, regardless of blood ties. If you went further back into the Atreus family’s bloody history I had absolutely no clue who was right or wrong. They seemed to have murdered each other with equal fervour. Leda’s lessons in decorum were not going to work here.

  It was simple enough to talk to Aegisthus that night. I said the most prosaic words in my mind. “Tell me your story …”

  Had I never realised the power in those words? Aegisthus could spin a yarn for hours out of that invitation, and most of them were amusing.

  I had never met a warrior so little concerned with his dignity. “Are you saying you acted as a servant in the court of King Lycidias?” I asked in amazement.

  Aegisthus laughed, his deep and throaty laugh. “Most certainly, and may I tell you that being his servant involved several expectations which a nice Greek boy was unable to satisfy.”

  “You mean …?”

  “Yes, I mean that in every way you can think of. You have no idea how degenerate some of these little kings can be. I was deeply shocked.”

  I suspected it took a lot to shock Aegisthus. He seemed to have no shame. He was equally comfortable claiming he had spent time working in a smithy, as having adorned the courts of kings.

  I took his stories lightly, as entertainment confections. Aegisthus hid his truths in stories, which may or may not have been fact.

  When we parted that evening I had been well entertained but was little wiser about the man and his intentions in Mycenae. I thought about that as Io brushed out my hair.

  Since Agamemnon left, I had been maintaining control of his kingdom, ostensibly on his behalf, until he returned to retake his throne. Stupidly I hadn’t considered the full implications of what I was doing. I intended to execute Agamemnon as soon as he returned, so I wasn’t ruling Mycenae on his behalf at all. I was doing so because it pleased me, it was my responsibility as queen and because I was protecting Orestes’ birthright. If Agamemnon and his opinions were removed from the equation, then whatever Aegisthus’s purpose in Mycenae, I could approach the matter purely on the basis of how it would affect Orestes. With Myrto gone, it might be timely for me to reconsider my alliances. Sooner or later some ambitious princeling would eye up the kingdom. A new generation had grown to adulthood and were itching to prove themselves as warriors. It was likely our time of peace was over.

  I fell asleep turning contingency plans over in my head.

  * * *

  Two months later, Aegisthus was still with us, and I was no nearer to understanding the purpose of his visit, nor much about the man himself. His easy charm made him popular, and I enjoyed the evenings in his comp
any. He had a fine tenor voice and a vast store of songs and tales to entertain us. I wondered if he had ever been a professional bard, but he denied it.

  “I’m only a gifted amateur. ‘This price the gods demand for song, that we become what we sing’,” he quoted. “I was never that dedicated, I’m afraid.”

  For many years I had kept up the habit of taking a morning walk around the town. It allowed the citizens to approach with their concerns, and it gave me the opportunity to sense the mood on the streets. Myrto had usually accompanied me, partly as escort, and partly to share the news of the morning.

  After a couple of weeks, Aegisthus took to joining me. “I need the exercise,” he joked when I asked him his purpose.

  I looked at him levelly. “Why?”

  “Don’t you trust me? I won’t crowd you or get in the way.”

  “I don’t know if I trust you,” I said honestly. “Trust is earned, and you haven’t been here long. You still haven’t said exactly why you’ve returned to Mycenae. I don’t think there are many people left who remember you.”

  He shrugged. “Most of the warriors I knew are at Troy, and half the townsfolk died in the epidemic, so no.”

  “Then why have you come back?”

  “Does an exile need a reason to want to see his native land?”

  “Does the exile’s return have something to do with his enemy being away overseas?”

  He laughed. “Well, of course. I wouldn’t be walking down the road with his wife if Agamemnon were here, now would I? He’d have had me cut down the moment I put my nose through the door.”

  I walked for a while in silence. I noticed the gutter was blocked at the end of the road. We would need to get it cleared before the next rain.

  “Do you miss your husband?” The question was casually asked.

  I flicked a look at Aegisthus. “He murdered my daughter. What do you think?” I said.

  “Ahh,” he said thoughtfully. “So you won’t be greeting him with open arms when he arrives home?”

  I said nothing. My oath burned in me like an old scar every time I thought of Agamemnon returning.

  “‘My enemy’s enemy is my friend,’” he quoted softly.

  I turned to face him. “Are you saying that makes us friends?”

  He was watching me carefully, his eyes very steady. “It could be. That would be your decision of course.”

  “Of course,” I agreed and took a deep breath. “Then let’s not make that decision today. Friendship takes time.”

  “But attraction can be instantaneous, don’t you find?”

  I looked up at him. His eyes were warm and laughing again. I felt flustered. He was getting beneath my skin. I would need to be very careful around him.

  I gave a rather prim nod, and we continued our walk.

  A few nights later, Charis was helping me with my hair before dinner. “He’s nice, isn’t he?” she asked.

  “Who?” I said cautiously, not wanting to be drawn.

  “Aegisthus, of course,” she said as she brushed my hair off my face. “He seems to have a nice way with everyone.” She secured a twist of hair into place with pins. “Do you like him?”

  I looked at her in surprise. “Well, yes, I suppose I do. Remember we don’t know him very well.”

  “He’s a man who likes women,” she said.

  I glanced at her sharply. “Is he making a pest of himself with the maids?”

  “No, nothing like that,” she said. “I mean he likes women as people. He talks to them as if they were equals.”

  I thought about that. “I suppose he does.”

  “Plenty of men say they like women, but they just mean they like to bed them. They don’t really care for females at all otherwise. Aegisthus is different.”

  “Do you mean you think he’s effeminate?” I hadn’t thought so myself, but sometimes it was hard to tell.

  Charis giggled. “No, I most certainly don’t think he’s effeminate. Quite the opposite.”

  I grinned at her. “You had me worried for a minute.”

  “That’s why I asked whether you liked him,” she said. “He could be good for you. Maybe make a good lover.” She wriggled her eyebrows suggestively.

  I stared at her in astonishment. “My dear girl, I’m old enough to be your mother. You can’t say things like that to me. It’s not proper.”

  She laughed at my shock. “It’s just girl talk. You need a nice man in your life. You’ve slept alone for too long.”

  I felt myself beginning to blush. “Really, Charis, this isn’t a suitable matter for discussion.”

  She pinned the last bit of hair into place. “You will think about it, though, won’t you?” she asked.

  I picked up my brush to throw at her, and she laughed at me as she scurried out the door.

  “Wretched girl,” I muttered as I gathered myself together and headed for the hall.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY TWO

  AEGISTHUS WAS BEGINNING TO EARN HIS keep. He took hunting groups into the hills behind the citadel and killed enough game to supplement our supplies. The youngsters with him enjoyed the trip, and the camaraderie. It brought back to me again the cost of having a generation of men rotting on the plains of Troy. The uncles, fathers and brothers who should have been here with their sons, teaching them men’s ways, were effectively lost to us. In a sense it didn’t matter if they survived the Trojan campaign or not. The damage to the next generation had been done.

  Orestes had taken to following him round like a small puppy. I fretted that he had chosen Aegisthus as a role model, but I could hardly fault his need for male company. I missed Myrto, but he had been an older man and hadn’t captured Orestes imagination. I began to think every conversation I had with Orestes now started with ‘Aegisthus thinks …’ or ‘Aegisthus says …’.

  I laughed a little at my son’s hero worship but didn’t interfere. We all need someone to look up to.

  I now avoided Aegisthus as much as I could. Charis’s comments had alarmed me and made me self-conscious. Did everyone think the same? Were they all waiting for me to bed the man?

  When I encountered him I was curt to the point of rudeness. I saw him raise his eyebrows at one particularly churlish comment, but he said nothing. I hated myself for the childishness of my behaviour, but Aegisthus largely ignored it. He accompanied me on my walks each morning, and I appreciated his company as we walked through the town streets.

  The early morning zephyr was cool on my skin. I loved this time of day the best. Each morning seemed to bring fresh possibilities in a newly created world.

  Aegisthus seemed on first-name terms with a large number of people. Stallholders called to him as we passed through the market, children waved from their play at the side of the road.

  “How is it everyone seems to know you?” I asked.

  “Don’t know,” he shrugged. “They’re just people I talk to.”

  “You must talk a lot then,” I said tartly.

  “You’re very scratchy these days,” he said.

  I turned to glare at him. He was getting far too familiar with his comments.

  “Some would say it was a sign that you like me.”

  I gasped. “How dare you? You must have the most overwhelming conceit to think such a thing. As it happens, I dislike cocky men.”

  He laughed at that.

  “Cocky, am I? You’ve a great talent for one-word descriptions. How would you describe yourself?”

  “I wouldn’t,” I snapped.

  “Come on,” he teased. “Are you afraid? Or do you want me to find a description for you?”

  I opened my mouth to say something cutting but found I was distracted by the easy way he laughed at me. I lost my words and stopped still on the pavement while traffic manoeuvred round us.

  “All right,” I said eventually. “How would you describe me?”

  The bright laughter faded from his face, although hi
s eyes remained warm. “Most of the words I could use would be compliments, and you wouldn’t believe me.”

  I shrugged. “So you can’t describe me?”

  “I didn’t say that. There is one word that fits.”

  “And?” I asked.

  “Lonely. If there is one word that encompasses you, it would be ‘lonely’.”

  I stared at him, quite disconcerted. “Is that what you think?”

  “I know it to be the truth,” he said gently.

  I gathered myself together, and we began walking again. I was silent. Only habit made me respond to the waves and comments of the citizens we passed.

  He broke the silence as we climbed the steps leading into the palace. “Have I offended you?” he asked in a quiet voice.

  “No. I don’t know. Is that how I seem to you? Someone pathetic?”

  He stopped and spun towards me. “Never,” he said. “Brave, of course, resilient, and competent. Never pathetic.” He gave a little laugh. “Don’t you know your citizens are torn between loving you and terror that you will find them out in some error?”

  I sniffed at that, but it made me smile. “How should I solve my loneliness then?” I couldn’t believe the words that had just fallen from my mouth. Was I flirting? Even to my own ears, I sounded coy.

  “Very easily. You need to allow a friend to get close enough to get past your armour.” He was smiling down at me with a look that was turning me to jelly.