Beauty's Daughter: The Story of Hermione and Helen of Troy (25 page)

“And then what?” I thought the plan was unlikely to succeed, and I didn’t hesitate to say so. “How will
you
get away, Ardeste? The old woman will wake up and see through your disguise, even if the guard does not, and if the servant is a spy, she’ll rush to tell Chrysothemis. It will not go well for you when she finds out.”

“The old woman won’t wake up. That shouldn’t trouble you. We’ll arrange it the same way we did with Pyrrhus and a room full of Myrmidons—with the seed of the poppy. I bought a small supply at the marketplace today. Just to be prepared,” she added with a smile. “If I leave a half-empty wine goblet with a few grains dropped in it, I’ll wager she’ll drink it down without giving it a thought. It’s a habit among servants, finishing off the last few drops. I confess that I’ve done it myself on occasion.”

“You’ve already bought the poppy seeds, Ardeste?” I asked, though I’d known Ardeste long enough that I should not have been surprised. “But how will you get past the giant? I doubt that he’s stupid.”

“As soon as you’re safely out of the room, I’ll change clothes again, this time exchanging Electra’s peplos for the servant’s tunic. When she wakes up, she’ll find herself dressed like a princess. I can mimic the way she walks. I’m sure I can fool the guard.” She turned to Zethus, who was listening open-mouthed to his lover’s ambitious plot. “You must wait for us on the road to Athens, and we’ll be on our way.”

I had no confidence that Ardeste’s elaborate plan could work. If one part failed, the rest would surely follow. “What do you think of this idea, Zethus?”

“I never argue with Ardeste,” he said, shaking his head. “She’s usually right. And I agree that we have to do something, and do it soon.”

BUT WE HAD NOT
taken the weather into account. The winter storms had begun, with pouring rain, thrashing winds, and mud everywhere. We were to rescue Electra and be off for Athens, but for three days the storms raged. We paced and fretted, until on the fourth day the clouds parted and Helios again smiled on us.

“You have the poppy-seed powder?”

Ardeste patted the slight bulge under her tunic.

Zethus embraced Ardeste, and I guessed what they were thinking: if our plan came to a bad end, this could be their last embrace. With one final backward look, Ardeste and I set out together. We climbed the road to the citadel and passed through the Lion Gate. I pointed out the empty guard tower, the granaries, the storage rooms, and the workshops of the artisans and described the location of the postern gate in the wall behind the palace.

“We’re surely being watched,” I said, “or I’d take you there and show you exactly where it is.”

Chrysothemis did not come out to greet us. No one did; perhaps no one was watching us after all. But when we reached Electra’s quarters, Asius was on guard. “You’re right,” Ardeste murmured. “He’s huge.”

The giant regarded us with the same empty expression he’d shown on my earlier visit, even when I greeted him and called him by name. He pushed open the door. “Visitors,” he boomed. Even his voice was oversize. Then we were inside, and the heavy door closed.

Electra was again at her loom, the elderly servant in a corner spinning wool. Electra welcomed me and sent her servant for wine and refreshments. I introduced Ardeste and hastily explained the plan before the old woman returned.

We were nervous, but we spent a long time in idle talk, recalling incidents from childhood, Orestes’ talent with bow and arrow, and the games we used to play. Electra could hardly sit still. She sipped at her wine. “Ugh! This wine is terrible! Pero!” she called to the servant. “Bring us new wine, and clean goblets.”

I looked at my cousin admiringly. She was playing her role well. When the old woman had gone out to fetch a different wine, Ardeste produced the poppy-seed powder and sprinkled a little into each of the goblets from which we had barely sipped. When Pero returned with the new wine, Electra said, “Please take this awful stuff away.”

We waited, to see if she’d decide that the wine in the goblets she’d carried out was not so awful after all. Soon she returned with three more goblets and another jar of wine and resumed spinning. But it was not long before the spindle dropped from her fingers.

While the old woman slept, I helped Electra out of her peplos, Ardeste removed her tunic, and the two exchanged garments. But now we encountered a problem: Electra was tall, and Ardeste was not. Ardeste’s tunic wasn’t long enough, and Electra’s peplos dragged on the ground, even when Ardeste pulled it up as high as she could around her waist and cinched it tight with the belt.

“It will have to do,” she said, and added Electra’s gold bracelets and necklaces and draped a shawl over her head.

Ardeste, posed at Electra’s loom, would wait for a chance to find her way to the postern gate. Electra knocked on the door and called to Asius, “My guests are leaving now.” I prayed that the giant was unobservant.

The door opened. I was startled to find Chrysothemis standing there. “You’re here again, Hermione?” she asked. “And with your servant this time? I had no idea you and Electra had so much to talk about.”

“I’d hoped to visit you as well, Chrysothemis,” I said, improvising desperately. It seemed less and less likely that we would get through our scheme without being caught, but I pressed on. “My servant is feeling ill,” I said, “and I must help her get down to the city, if you will kindly excuse us.”

Chrysothemis frowned at Electra, bent over beside me in Ardeste’s ill-fitting tunic, clutching her belly with one hand and drawing a shawl over her face with the other.

“There may have been something in the wine brought by Electra’s servant that has had a bad effect on all of us,” I said. My own “servant” groaned, and I put a helpful arm around her shoulders. “Please do excuse us, Chrysothemis,” I repeated anxiously. Had she not noticed Pero slumbering soundly in the corner?

Chrysothemis continued to study the situation. When was she going to announce that her sister’s disguise hadn’t deceived her for a moment, and that she’d seen through our clumsy ruse? “Asius will bring a chariot to take you both down to wherever you’re staying,” she said.

“Oh, that won’t be necessary!” I protested. “I’m sure we can do very well on our own.”

But Chrysothemis insisted, and we were forced to wait for the gigantic guard to fetch the chariot. Still Chrysothemis lingered. A trickle of perspiration crept down my back, and I could feel Electra, hunched over beside me, trembling violently. Behind us, Ardeste, wearing Electra’s peplos, was pretending to weave on Electra’s loom, no doubt straining to hear every word.

Asius arrived and carried my ailing “servant” out of the palace, while I followed, and placed her in a chariot drawn by a pair of horses. Chrysothemis, apparently satisfied, went on her way. Electra looked up at me from under her shawl, eyes wide and frightened. I stepped aboard and had begun to breathe more easily when Asius suddenly bolted back into the palace.

“Where is he going?” Electra whispered.

“I don’t know.” I wondered if we had really succeeded in fooling huge Asius—or if he knew exactly what was happening and was on his way to alert Chrysothemis. “What should we do?” My voice was edged with panic.

“We’ll take the chariot,” she said. She stood up and grasped the reins. “I know how to drive it. I used to go hunting with Orestes, and he taught me.”

“Wait!” I cried. “He’s coming back, and he’s got Ardeste!”

Asius galloped toward us with Ardeste, still dressed in Electra’s peplos, slung over his shoulder. “I didn’t have a chance to exchange clothes with the old woman,” she whispered. She looked terrified. Asius dumped her unceremoniously next to Electra and me, vaulted into the driver’s position, and snatched the reins from Electra’s hands. We clung to the sides of the chariot, exhilarated and alarmed, as it careened down the steep road.

Asius slowed the horses when we’d reached the streets of Mycenae, and we moved at a stately pace through the city. Citizens stopped to stare at the chariot and its giant charioteer. Out of the crowd a musician playing a syrinx wandered into the street. I expected Asius to let the musician feel the sting of his whip, chasing him out of our way, as I’d seen other charioteers do, but the giant reined in the horses and stopped to listen to the music as though a spell had suddenly come over him.

“Take them to Nauplia,” the musician told Asius, and our driver nodded courteously.

I didn’t need to look for the wings on the musician’s sandals. “My lord Hermes!” I called out. “We’re going to Athens!”

“The road to Athens is too dangerous. A ship will take you there from Nauplia.” The messenger god played a few melodious notes on his syrinx. “Don’t worry—Zethus is waiting for you,” he said, and disappeared.

Asius flicked his whip and resumed his reckless charge through the crowded streets of Mycenae, scattering merchants, women buying bread, shepherds and their sheep, children playing games. At a crossroads by the massive walls where the city ended and the countryside began, a familiar figure waited with a donkey laden with bundles. Asius reined in the horses. Ardeste jumped from the chariot and rushed into Zethus’s arms.

What were we to think about Asius? We would surely attract attention all along the way to Nauplia. A chariot driven by a giant could scarcely be ignored. There would be no disguising either one. Yet Hermes had been clear in his instructions:
Take them to Nauplia.

And so we turned off the road that led to Athens and went in the opposite direction.

WHAT AN ODD SIGHT
we must have made—a giant and three women crowded into a chariot intended for two, with Zethus and the donkey plodding along behind. Sometimes Asius walked, carrying the donkey’s load, to give Zethus and Onos a rest. Our progress was slow, but the farther we got from Mycenae, the less we feared pursuit and capture.

Asius tried to put our fears to rest. “Chrysothemis has few servants,” he said, “and fewer friends. The people of Mycenae want a wise ruler, but they don’t want Chrysothemis in that role.”

We stopped in small villages and sent Zethus to inquire for lodgings. Once we spent a night in a sheepfold. Electra and I had put away our elegant gowns and dressed in plain tunics with knitted shawls and thick sandals. By ourselves, we blended easily into the crowd. But not Asius. Our unusual charioteer made us curiosities, and word of our impending arrival always reached the next village ahead of us.

At first this worried me, but Asius, in addition to his size and strength, turned out to be a fine storyteller and a great asset. Each evening the villagers gathered to see the giant for themselves and to listen to his stories.

“Yes, I am the son of a Cyclops,” he told them. “My father was a Cyclops, from that race of men descended from Poseidon, brother of Zeus. My father’s people were blacksmiths who worked the forge with Hephaestus to make Achilles’ magnificent shield. And my father’s family had the special calling of making Zeus’s thunderbolts.”

A little girl, who should have been asleep on her mother’s lap, piped up, “If you’re a Cyclops, where’s the eye that’s supposed to be in the middle of your forehead? You have two eyes like everybody else.”

The giant smiled kindly. “For many generations the Cyclopes had only a single eye, as you’ve described. But when they married ordinary women, their children had two eyes, just like you.”

“My mother says you eat little children,” the girl said. The mother attempted to silence her, but the child tore loose and took a few bold steps toward the giant. “Are you going to eat me?”

Asius looked at her thoughtfully. “No,” he said, “I’m not. Little girls who ask too many questions aren’t particularly tasty.”

The girl, wide-eyed, scrambled back to her mother, and that was the end of the questions.

When the crowd had dispersed, drifting back to their huts, I did have another question for Asius. “Why have you decided to come with us?” I asked. “It would have been easier for you simply to do as Chrysothemis ordered.”

“I do it out of loyalty to Orestes,” Asius explained. “I served as his charioteer at Troy after the first charioteer was killed. Orestes was a superb archer and a brave fighter. He doesn’t deserve what’s happened to him. And I know of the depth of his love for you, Princess Hermione. You were always in his thoughts. I want to help you find him and to bring him home.”

29

WE ARRIVED IN NAUPLIA
on the coast of the Gulf of Argos with no idea of what to do next. There were five of us—Electra, Ardeste, Zethus, and me, plus the giant Asius—along with two large horses and a small donkey, all needing to be fed and sheltered. We also had a chariot, which would require us to find a ship large enough to transport it to Athens.

I walked along the water’s edge, wondering why Hermes had sent us here, wondering how we would get to Athens, and wondering how I would then ever be united with Orestes. Fishing boats came and went. Merchant ships arrived from all parts of the Chief Sea, unloaded their cargo, stowed on board sacks of grain and amphoras filled with oil and wine, and sailed away again. Zethus tried every day, but no one was willing to take us to Athens.

The days passed. My spirits were low and sinking lower. Occasional storms swept in and drove us fleeing to shelter. But then, as the winter wore on, the first signs of spring began to appear. The days lengthened, and the air grew warmer. In the evenings people gathered to hear Asius’s stories.

It was not enough. I often found myself weeping. “We’ve gone through so much,” I complained to Zethus, “and now we seem to be stuck here!”

We considered retracing our steps to Mycenae, pushing on from there to Corinth, and joining the isthmus road that followed the coastline all the way to Athens.

“Hermes told us not to do it,” Zethus said. “But what good is it to stay here?”

I agreed. “If Hermes had known this would happen, he wouldn’t have sent us here.”

“We should leave,” Electra said. “What if Orestes and Pylades have already arrived in Athens and gone to Mycenae and we’re not there?”