Helen Had a Sister

by Penelope Haines

  I sat, feeling waves of sick hopelessness wash over me. I loved Orestes with all my heart. If I listed what I valued in my life, my son would be its first item. I was less concerned with the threat he’d made to me, than distressed by his pain. If I could spare him hurt, heal his grief and make the world a perfect playground for his enjoyment, I would gladly do so. I think most mothers secretly feel the same. To see Orestes in such anguish tore my heart apart; to be the direct cause of his agony was intolerable.

  I reached for the wine goblet in front of me and drank its contents in one gulp. The liquid hit my stomach’s curdled mess disastrously. Feeling a violent desire to vomit, I pushed back from the table and rose to my feet. I looked round, but the maids were still dancing. I would make my way home alone.

  As I walked the dark, deserted streets back to the palace I wondered, what is the point of it all? I had been so proud that I had honoured my oath; so certain of my rectitude. Now the son I loved thought of me as a monster. This time yesterday I’d had a son who loved me and a husband I hated. Tonight, such a few hours later, I had neither.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY SEVEN

  “YOU'LL NEVER UNDERSTAND THAT RIGHT FROM the start you’ve been used by Aegisthus, will you?” yelled Electra.

  We were sitting in her room overlooking the gardens. It was a lovely spot. I had gone to try and make peace with her but was failing.

  “He’s got exactly what he wanted,” she said. “He rules Mycenae. Agamemnon’s dead, and Aegisthus didn’t even have to lift a finger. You did it all for him. You murdered my father for your lover. What’s he going to do now? Murder Orestes so he can wipe out my father’s line completely?”

  “Don’t be silly, Electra,” I said. “Aegisthus has always been like a father to Orestes. You’re just talking hysterical nonsense.”

  “It’s not nonsense,” she sobbed. “You just don’t want to see it. Aegisthus has won back his kingdom, and all by sleeping with you. Now he’s going to want to keep it. If you can’t give him an heir, he’ll probably get rid of you too.”

  My hand itched to slap her again. I held myself together with an effort.

  “Electra, please try and be pleasant. Being rude to me, or insulting Aegisthus, isn’t going to help. I took Agamemnon’s life to avenge your sister’s. That’s all. There’s nothing sinister going on, no plots or attempts to get rid of Orestes. All this is in your imagination. And you’ll make yourself sick if you can’t come to terms with reality.”

  “It’s you who can’t see the truth, Mother,” she shouted. “It’s plain and clear for everyone else to see.”

  I gave up and left her to her tantrum. The sooner I found a husband for her the better. There’d be no peace while she remained in Mycenae. Now that the men were back from Troy there was bound to be some king or princeling looking for a bride. Preferably one from a far-distant part of Greece.

  Agamemnon and Cassandra were buried in state. The townspeople lined the route to the cemetery and watched as we laid them in their graves. Electra managed to take full advantage of the opportunity for drama – wailing, draping herself in sackcloth and tearing at her hair. I saw Orestes, but he avoided me, which hurt. I hadn’t managed to speak to him since the night of Agamemnon’s death, and I hoped he was all right.

  I had refused to allow Cassandra to lie in the shaft grave beside my husband, so she rested in another tomb. I thought it the least I could do for her memory. She had been so abused in life. I doubted she would want to sleep beside Agamemnon.

  Over several days I went through a purification ritual to be cleansed of his death. The priests were respectful and pious as they made their sacrifices and prayers. I’d had no qualms about honouring my oath, but I appreciated the ritual and being able to put the whole terrible episode behind me.

  Calchas hadn’t re-entered Mycenae with the troops, although he’d travelled back from Troy with them. He had decamped when he’d heard Agamemnon had been killed.

  “He must have realised just how short his lifespan would be once you got hold of him,” said Aegisthus.

  “I would love to have been able to execute him,” I said wistfully.

  “Then it’s just as well he didn’t return. Like him or not, he’s a priest and a seer. You’d probably offend the gods if you killed their servant.”

  I thought back to the first time I met Calchas. Had he known then what would happen?

  “If he’s such a great seer and can really read the future, you’d think he would have refused to sacrifice Iphigenia. That’s what started it all,” I said crossly.

  Aegisthus smiled. “‘What started it all’ depends who’s telling the story. You could argue the curse on our house started back with old Atreus, or even with Tantalus before him, and the rest of us have just been swept up in it. Are we responsible for our actions, or are we part of fate working itself out?”

  “That’s very profound,” I said, startled.

  He gave me a smug grin. “I’m a very profound man.”

  I smiled. At least our relationship was still strong, even though I was now a murderer. I reached a hand out towards him, and he squeezed it gently.

  “I haven’t seen him in days.” Charis was helping me dress. “Last time I saw Orestes was at the funeral.” She fastened the brooch at my shoulder and stood back. “That looks good.”

  “I haven’t seen him since the funeral either, and I’m worried about him. He was so angry and upset with me. I wanted to talk to him, but I think he’s been avoiding me.”

  “He’ll turn up,” she said cheerfully.

  I asked Aegisthus whether he’d sent Orestes out on patrol, but he hadn’t seen him either. The influx of returned warriors crowding the town meant Aegisthus had been busy. Those troops who had been able to return to their homes, farms and families were fine, but there was a core with no home to go to. Mycenae had no need of a large standing army, and Aegisthus was working to find ways to assimilate these men into civilian life. The army camp that had hastily been established was beyond the city walls, and there was a constant coming and going between the town and the camp. The usual tight controls at the gates to the city had been relaxed. Orestes had disappeared amongst the chaos.

  Seriously worried, I organised a search throughout the city for him. His messmates knew nothing, simply that he had gone. He wasn’t in the palace, nor could he be found in the town or barracks. Eventually I had to accept he’d left Mycenae.

  Some days later Charis arrived in the room I used as my office, dragging Electra behind her.

  I was trying to tally the food stores required for the town now the troops were home. I just hoped we had enough for the coming winter, so I wasn’t pleased with the interruption.

  “She knows,” said Charis abruptly, rather out of breath.

  My daughter wrenched her arm free and glared at Charis.

  “She knows what?” I asked.

  “She knows what’s happened to Orestes,” said Charis. “She was laughing about it with Selena.”

  “Electra?”

  She looked at the floor, avoiding eye contact with me. I felt a surge of exasperation with this surly girl. “What were you discussing with the slave girl? Do you know where Orestes is? You must tell me.”

  She stared stubbornly at the floor.

  “Electra, you have got to talk. This isn’t a child’s game.”

  She raised her head then and looked at me. A very unchildlike expression crossed her face. “You want to know where he’s gone? I’ll tell you. He’s left Mycenae. I sent him away for his safety. You won’t find him.”

  “Have you gone mad?” I said. “For what possible reason would you do that? What threatens him?”

  “Do you think I’d let you kill the last heir to Agamemnon’s throne? You murdered my father; well, you won’t kill my brother.” She had her head up now, her chin raised as she declaimed her lines, for all the world like a poor actor in the marketplace.

  I
heard Charis give a snort of disgust.

  “For the gods’ sake, Electra. Stop talking such drivel. You know perfectly well Orestes isn’t in any danger. How dare you accuse me of wanting to kill him? Where is he?”

  My scorn jolted her from her dramatic pose. Now she was all malice. “Where you can’t find him. He can grow to manhood safe from you and your lover’s plans. Don’t bother looking for him because he won’t return. He hates you now.” I saw the satisfaction in her eyes.

  “Is that what this is about?” I said slowly. “You’ve been jealous of Orestes’ affection for me? And of mine for him?”

  “It’s nothing like that. I want him safe and out of the danger you and Aegisthus pose.” The sulky look was back. “When he returns, he can avenge our father and deal with you both.”

  I looked at her, realising for the first time how deep her enmity was. This was no petulant adolescent but a fully fledged adversary intent on the kill.

  “When Agamemnon came home, it gave you satisfaction that he’d probably avenge himself on me and Aegisthus. Now you want Orestes to do the same? Is that all that drives you, Electra? A puny need to inflict pain, although no one has harmed you? A need to assign blame?” I took a deep breath. “One thing I can say for you, you take after your father in both looks and character, and believe me, that’s not a compliment. You’re a poor excuse for a woman. Go away.”

  I turned away from her to Charis. “Where is Selena?”

  “I’ll get her for you. You can whip any information you want out of her. I doubt she’d hold out long. She’s another nasty piece of work. None of the other maids like her, she’s too sly and spiteful.”

  Electra stood there, looking suddenly uncertain, as Charis left the room.

  “You have been given leave to go, Electra,” I said coldly. “I’ve no time for you.”

  Suddenly her eyes brimmed over with tears, she whirled and fled the room.

  I gazed blindly out from the window. How had I gone so terribly wrong? I had tried to be a good mother to Electra, even if I’d never found her an easy child. How had I caused such malice and hatred? In spite of my anger, I hadn’t missed the tears as she fled. Somewhere in that horrid girl was a hurt child, but how I could unlock it, or eliminate the danger her malice posed, I had no idea.

  Charis brought Selena in. From somewhere she had obtained a rather nasty looking little whip which she’d waved in front of Selena’s face all the way as she marched her up from the kitchens. The wretched maid had no resistance. I imagine Charis had told her terrible things I could do to her.

  Selena collapsed to her knees in front of me in a blubbery mass of tears. “I didn’t do anything,” she wailed. “It wasn’t my fault the young master fled.” She threw herself forward, her face to the ground in front of me.

  I took a deep breath and looked down at her whimpering form. I had a nasty fear she might forget herself and wipe her nose on my feet.

  “Zeus defend me,” I muttered. “Hand me the whip, Charis.”

  Charis passed it over.

  “Now,” I said to the wretch, “I want to know where Orestes is and who he is staying with. If you tell me this freely, I will let you go. Do you understand?”

  There was no reply from the girl, just more mindless wailing. I gave her a few moments to settle, then tried again. “Selena, can you hear me? Answer yes or no.”

  There was no further attempt at an answer; instead she started rocking her body back and forth as an accompaniment to the keening.

  “All right,” I said, exasperated. “Have it your way.” I uncoiled the whip and brought it down over her buttocks with a short, satisfactory snap. Immediately the wails were cut short by a squeal. She sprang back on her knees and threw herself sideways. Her eyes, wide with horror, met mine.

  I held the whip behind my back and waited for her to settle again.

  “Get up.”

  She scrambled to her feet, away from me. She looked a wreck, but at least the wailing had stopped. I blessed the sudden silence, even as she collapsed to her knees again. “I mean you no harm,” I said again, “but I will have answers to my questions. Where is my son Orestes?”

  “He’s gone to Phocis, my lady.”

  At least she’d regained her wits, even if she did kneel there wringing her hands.

  “Do you mean he’s gone to Delphi?”

  It wasn’t an unreasonable question. Many kings and princes sought advice from the oracle at Delphi. Had Orestes gone there to seek answers to the moral questions Agamemnon’s death had raised?

  She looked at me blankly. Her mouth drooped open unattractively. I fancied I detected moisture at the corners of the slack mouth.

  “Well?”

  “No, my lady. He’s gone to the King of Phocis. He wants to live there.”

  I exhaled deeply. I would have to ask Aegisthus about Phocis; I knew next to nothing about the place.

  “Who is the king? Has he gone there?”

  Apparently I had exhausted her store of knowledge because she began to shake her head, a low moaning sound seeping from her lips. I battened down my desire to smash her to the ground in frustration.

  “Is there anything else you can tell me? Has Orestes arrived safely at Phocis?”

  The girl flinched, showing the whites of her eyes, for all the world like a flighty chariot pony.

  “Did Orestes arrive safely?” I repeated.

  This girl was so stupid there really was no point in browbeating her, she would only get hysterical again. As long as she stayed reasonably able to answer questions she had nothing to fear from me.

  “I think so, my lady. Please, I don’t know any more.” She sank onto her knees again. Everything about the girl was saggy, sloppy and vacant-minded, but she had probably told me all she knew.

  I glanced across at Charis. Her face mirrored my contempt.

  “Take her away, Charis,” I said wearily.

  They left. Once I’d heard them walk away down the corridor, I dropped the whip in disgust. Where had the days gone when I made clean moral judgments? I had prided myself on not losing my temper, on not abusing servants. I had once prided myself on being a good mother. I tasted shame and ashes. My life was turning into a wasteland of time and effort. A story of pointless toil, ambition, pride and pain.

  It seemed that Agamemnon alive had been less dangerous than Agamemnon dead. I simply couldn’t fathom how he had got away with his own daughter’s murder without losing his other children’s respect, yet I received nothing but grief and calumny for avenging that murder.

  Aegisthus and I talked long into the night. He had visited the court at Phocis during the years of his exile, and declared its king, Epistrophus, to be a decent and honourable man.

  I wanted Orestes back in Mycenae, but Aegisthus cautioned prudence. “Orestes left because he wanted to, Nestra. Forcing him back isn’t a good idea.”

  “He left because Electra filled his head with a load of nonsense. If he doesn’t come back and learn she’s wrong, those ideas will just set in his head and become immovable,” I countered. “Besides which, he is prince of Mycenae. He needs to grow up among his own people.”

  Aegisthus gave me a funny look.

  “What?” I said.

  “Name one Atreides who’s managed that? Every generation of us have been exiles for part of our childhood.”

  I thought about that. “It’s very different to the way my brothers and my sister and I were brought up,” I said eventually.

  “You were lucky, Nestra. You had parents who got on with each other and who gave you all a place to grow up safely. It’s different in Mycenae. Children here have to grow up fast just to survive.”

  “I thought all our troubles would be over when Agamemnon died,” I said sadly.

  Aegisthus shook his head. “No, that only got rid of one problem. There are always others. I felt the same way when we killed Atreus. He’d been such a monster figure all my childhood, I t
hought the nightmare would end when we got rid of him. But Atreus’s death only meant Agamemnon and Menelaus became our enemies. The Hydra has many heads, and they all grow back, lop them as you will. Feuds never finish.”

  I sat beside him and he put his arm round my shoulder for comfort.

  “If you want my advice, for what it’s worth, let Orestes stay where he is. Epistrophus will make a good foster father. We can send to him, requesting he gives Orestes hospitality and full fostering at his court. Orestes can grow up away from whatever intrigue Electra and others stir up. If he is in Mycenae, there will always be factions tearing at him, wanting his support for their own political ends. Let him grow up in peace.”

  “Oh Aegisthus,” I cried, “I love him so much. It breaks my heart to have him so angry and distant with me. I never thought that would happen.”

  He hugged me to him and kissed the top of my hair. “I know, Nestra. I know,” he said soothingly.

  “All right,” I agreed at last, reluctantly. “Orestes stays in Phocis.” I shut my eyes against the press of sudden tears. What was the point of crying anyway?

  After a while Aegisthus said, “Electra needs a husband. We can’t put that off any more, even if she is still young. She’s neither pretty, nor sweet-natured, but someone must want her as a wife, if only for her status as princess of Mycenae. If she stays in the palace here she will sit and fester, and that will spread to others. She has to go.”

  I nodded. “I know that as well.” I sighed. “I feel such a failure,” I said sadly. “How is it possible to have everything you want and yet lose everything you want at the same time?”

  “The gods’ influence maybe, or perhaps our fate,” he said. “Who knows what decides our lives?”

  “What do you want, Aegisthus?” I asked eventually. “Everyone else wants something. What is your ambition?”

  He rubbed his chin, in the way I knew meant he was embarrassed, and looked at me shamefacedly. “I have everything I ever wanted and worked for, Nestra.”