'Not by my will, but the Gods' and his own,' said my Lord soberly. 'This is the retribution for matricide. The children of Agamemnon killed their mother and her lover. As soon as the deed was done, he screamed and ran, crying that the Erinyes were beating him with staves. He has been maddened and running ever since.'
'So he did not claim his kingdom?' asked Eumides, with a pitying glance at the still face.
Pylades sighed. 'Shall I tell you what is happening in Mycenae now? The people are leaving. There may have been some attempt to take over power - by a house slave, possibly, which would have been quelled by the guard. But there is no rival household strong enough to take the city for their own, even when there is no child of Agamemnon there.
'Menelaus is in Sparta, and did not protest when his own daughter, who was betrothed to this unhappy boy, was sent away to Neoptelemus, son of Achilles, in Dodona. He cares nothing and is too far away to hold Mycenae. In the absence of a king there will be a tyrant, some opportunistic farmer, or there will be no one. Unless Argos sends a champion there, the city will be looted by the king's guard and left open to the elements. Even if he lives and comes into his inheritance, Orestes has a lot of work to do before he can live in Mycenae again.'
'That was the prophecy,' I said drearily. 'Only when Mycenae is void and waste will Orestes come home from the north.'
'I never heard that,' said Pylades.
'I did,' said Cassandra. 'That is what Pythia said. On the day that Apollo released me.'
'On the day I met you,' said Pylades softly to me. 'When I took over the care of the last children of Agamemnon.'
'Do you regret it?' asked Cassandra with a smile, as my Lord wrapped the cloak more closely around me.
'No,' he said firmly.
Hours had gone by. I knew not if it was light or dark outside.
'There should have been a response by now,' worried Diomenes. 'Perhaps we should have used five berries.'
'There would have been a response to five berries, but it would not have been the desired one. Have patience,' said Cassandra.
Eumides, worn out with worrying, had fallen asleep with his head in her lap, and she stroked his hair automatically, a long practised movement.
Time passed. Then Racer woke and barked. Just once, a commanding, attention-compelling noise. We all jumped.
She was standing over Orestes, licking his face. He was sweating. The healers leapt to their feet.
'Yes,' said Diomenes with satisfaction, moving the body to catch a flow of fluids in a basin. 'Good, Orestes, good. You are coming out of this black trance. Now, don't fail me. Cassandra, call him.'
'Come, boy, come back to the world,' she said in a clear voice, calculated to pierce a fog. 'We are all here, your sister and your friends. Don't you slip away now. Lady Gaia, Mistress of Animals, evoe,' she called, holding up her arms. 'I invoke you, lady of healing and of warmth, spring-woman of the flowery breast. It is Cassandra, daughter of Priam, calls you. Bring him back to us, Lady, out of the dark.'
I did not see anything, but the air of the little house seemed to sparkle, or was it that my eyes were filling with tears.
'Electra, speak to him,' Cassandra said.
Before I could, Pylades shouted 'Orestes!'
And I called, 'My son, my son, Orestes, return.'
I felt the startled glance I received from Eumides. Everyone else was too busy to notice. But then the sailor spoke tenderly to the boy. 'Hear me, little brother, do you remember playing "one, two, three" with me on the steps of Poseidon's temple in Corinth? It is Eumides who speaks, your old friend.'
'We're losing him,' said Diomenes quickly. 'Stand him up, move his limbs, call him.'
'Orestes!' I wailed as Eumides and Diomenes dragged the limp body to its feet.
Cassandra slapped him across the face - once, twice - the smack of palm on flesh was shocking. But Orestes murmured, then put up an arm to protect himself, and the next blow fell on his elbow.
'Good, good, fight for your life, boy!' I heard her say, and the bearers shook Orestes, until he moved on his own to maintain his balance.
'Have courage, son of Agamemnon,' Cassandra urged, rubbing both hands over his cheeks, then his neck and chest. 'We are here and we will help you but you must have the courage.'
Naked, his body was slack, hanging between his physicians, but gradually it seemed to be filling with life. I saw tendons flex in thigh and calf as he took a step, resting his weight first on one foot, then the other. His chest rose and fell, his mouth opened, then his eyes.
No longer dilated, they were Orestes' eyes again. He was almost standing on his own and he wailed, 'What is happening? I thought I was safe,' he said.
Cassandra slapped him again, lightly. 'You're alive, Orestes, and life is a struggle. Don't give up. You have supporters. The Mother Gaia herself came to help you and that is uncommon. Now we will walk, round and round this nice little hut.'
'Eumides?' he asked, and the sailor kissed him heartily and exclaimed, 'Now, little brother, we will parade. You can lean on me. We've fished you up out of deep waters and you're a little confused, but that will pass.'
'We were sitting on the temple wall, and then we went to Laodamos' house and we must have drunk too much. Electra will be angry with me,' he said fuzzily, then focused on me and said, 'I only drank one cup, sister.'
'Only one cup is one cup too much,' I said crossly, which is what I had said five years ago when this happened. They lurched around the house, taking small steps, and all the time Orestes' hold on life became firmer. 'You bad boy, out drinking with disreputable sailors,' I continued.
'No, that was years ago,' he replied, puzzled. 'I am grown now. Where am I? Pylades?'
'You are on the road to Olympus, cousin. You have been ill. Don't think about it, keep moving.'
Orestes was standing without support, shaking the newly-grown loose curls away from his eyes.
'I have been ill?' he asked, staggering back under Racer's joy. He put a hand on her collar and she tugged at his wrist, pulling him, making him take another step and then another.
I don't know how but we found ourselves dancing - Orestes and Diomenes, Cassandra and Eumides, then somehow Pylades and me. We danced the Aegean courting dance, three steps and a dipping kick, round and round the hut to the sound of laughter and Racer barking wildly as she tried to join in.
When we collapsed to the floor, Orestes' eyes were clear.
'Tomorrow you will be purged,' said Cassandra, 'and the next day you will be well.'
'No,' he said sadly. 'They will come again, the Erinyes. In my dreams I saw them and there is no escape.'
'We might be able to do something about them,' Cassandra observed. 'I perceive that you have a horn bow.'
'The God gave it to him,' I said, 'but he has been too weak to use it and we could not see them to aim at them.'
'Next time, give the bow to me,' she ordered, casting a sidelong glance at the Asclepid. 'Well, Lord Physician, what is your opinion of the patient? Will he live?'
'He will,' he replied, cocking an eyebrow.
'Then you had better start believing in Gods, Chryse,' she stated, and the three of them laughed.
Orestes endured his purge in relatively good spirits and the next day we rode for Olympus, following the track of the Ennipeas River. For a long way it flows through flat land, but always the mountains occupy the distance. It curls lazily, a slow water heavy with silt, and it was a pleasant journey.
Eight days after his emergence from the trance, they came back.
We were sleeping in a hut in some muddy village when I heard the cry. Pylades woke.
Orestes was lying outside, wrapped in his mantle. He was struggling and calling for mercy.
Cassandra emerged from a tangle of blankets and limbs, naked, and joined the black bitch in defence of Orestes. She was marble and silver in the moonlight and her hair flowed around her in a cloud. She looked like Artemis again, the dog at her side, the fallen boy between her feet.
'Bird bolts for crones,' she taunted. 'Leave him be, Ladies of Guilt and Vengeance. My heart's longing is promised for my defence of this boy. For that I shall risk much. Begone, or I'll spit you, snakes and all.'
She looked down on my son with Goddess' eyes. 'You, Orestes, have courage. It is no use asking the Erinyes for mercy. They have never heard of it. Defy them, craven! You are Apollo's child.' She made a sweeping gesture with the bow, as though sighting an enemy.
'Get back,' she said, to me and Pylades. 'Lady Gaia, have I not been faithful? I have healed the hurts and rents, mended the bones and hearts of earth's children. Turn this aspect from me, Hecate. Lady, call off your dogs or I will wound them if I can. The days of blood vengeance are over. The Argives worship Zeus the father. You cannot recall the old days of Chaos and Night.'
She lifted the bow and shot. I heard the arrow humming, and did I really hear a scream, more of anger than hurt?
Racer dropped to her snarling crouch again. Cassandra reached between her thighs and brought forth fingers red with blood.
'Blood you want, hags, blood you have. I mark him with sacrifice blood, holy blood of the Maiden.' She stooped and drew a sign on Orestes' chest.
Then the night became peaceful. Racer rolled over and scratched at an itchy ear. Godhead left Cassandra abruptly. She was gathered into the arms of her lovers, who wrapped her in a cloak and held her close as she shuddered, her hair veiling her face.
Orestes sat up and said in a tone of complete astonishment, 'They're gone!'
'Not forever,' said Cassandra through chattering teeth. 'As long as my sacrifice blood lasts we can hold them off. They are scarcely more reasoning than animals, elemental things of darkness. As long as there is blood they will be assuaged. They didn't like that bow, either. Where did the arrow go?'
But although we searched the next day, we could not find it.
The sacrifice blood lasted five days. On that night, alone in another small hut, I turned to Pylades beside me and said, 'Husband, lie with me.'
He knew what I was thinking and said, 'There will be no blood, Electra.'
'I fear for my brother, my son.'
His voice was kind. 'I will not lie with you until you want me, Electra. Not for any other reason.'
'I want you,' I said. My voice quavered. I was afraid.
Very gently, our hands began the familiar dance, but this time, as the itch grew to a fire, I felt something slide inside me, and it felt good - more than good, suitable. I thought of Aegisthus and dreaded the weight on my body, cutting off my breath, but my husband was lying beside me, pressing close. I had been expecting the clamp of the muscles, resisting the invader, but I felt instead the same muscles close around the phallus and suck, dragging it deeper, embracing, pulling.
He gasped. The climax bloomed and in its heat - more diverse than before, a glow and not a coal of fire - I felt the phallus inside me pulse, and I floated away.
It seemed to be a long time before I came back to my body.
That was what Cassandra the Trojan woman had felt, in the goatherd's hut, her lover in her arms. In that moment of transcendent completion, I believe that I loved her.
Pylades said shakily, 'Electra,' and I said, 'Husband.'
'It was not like that,' he said. 'Not with any woman before.'
'It was not like that,' I replied, 'Withâ¦' I could not complete the sentence. I was as weak as though I had climbed a mountain, and I fell asleep in my Lord's arms.
The Furies came back that night, but Orestes defied them and they retreated. Cassandra could see them and laughed as she described their bowed black shoulders as they crowded away from the bow, like old hens in the rain.
Abusing them did not work for long. The next night Orestes fought; and woke bruised and battered but there was a light in his eyes.
From the sea we were now riding back into the mountains. The ground was rising every day, and the villages were scarcer and scarcer, their people worshiping Gods I had never heard of - Dione, wife of Zeus, for instance, when everyone knows that the Divine Consort is Hera.
The highest point is Olympus, which does not rise to a point but a cirque, the
Areopagus
, the Court of the Gods.
We rode along the gorge of the Ennipeas River, whose waters are cold enough to stop the heart. I was anxious, now that we had come to the end. I was afraid that Orestes would be found guilty and would die, in this far country beyond many rivers. My companions were excited and chattering and I loathed all of them.
There was a flush of summer green in the grass. Windflowers trembled in the light breeze. The blood of Adonis spotted the slopes. We stopped under the bright fronds of the upland pines and I saw my son's eyes widen as he gazed at the height.
'So high,' he sighed wearily. We had wrapped him in a goatskin cloak, bought from a peasant. It smelled strongly of its original inhabitant, but it was warm. It would be freezing on those snowy peaks and even now he drew the ill-tanned skin about his bruised shoulders as if he was chilled, although the morning was bright and warm. The sun, this high, was strong enough to burn unprotected skin.
The dim, resinous shade enjoined silence, but Cassandra spoke cheerfully.
'We do not need to climb,' she said. 'Delphian Apollo wanted Orestes here for judgement, and here he is. Let's find a place to camp out of this cold shadow, and wait. There are Gods here. I can feel them.'
'But not see them,' said Diomenes sceptically. It was an old argument but they never got tired of it. Everyone else had.
'Not yet, Chryse dear, but soon,' she returned briskly.
Only Gods could scale that mountain. The two monoliths which guarded the approach were high, bleak and bare. Even a mountain goat might fear to trust its nimble hoofs to those pathless, vertical hills. For Orestes it was patently impossible.
Pylades slung the bundles down and unloaded the horses, and I began to gather wood for a fire. The pine branches catch easily and burn hot but very quickly, falling into ash almost immediately. I looked for a fallen beech or oak which we could cut into logs with the axe.