Authors: Mary Renault
I walked forward between the staring benches, with eyes for him alone. At his right hand was an empty chair crowned with two hawks; and on his left sat a woman. As I came near, he rose to greet me, and came forward. This made me glad; I had not been sure if he would receive me as a king. He was a little taller than I, about two fingers.
He said what custom ordains for such occasions, making me welcome, and bidding me eat and drink before I troubled myself with talking. I spoke my thanks, and smiled. He smiled back, but only a little; not sourly, but stiffly as if his smile had fallen out of use.
I sat, and they brought my table, and he showed the carver the best bits to give me. My trencher was loaded, almost more than I could eat, though I was hungry. He only picked at some sweetbreads himself, and most of those he slipped to the white boarhound by his chair. On the way I had had some harebrained thought of discovering myself to him in Hall before the people; now, seeing him in his state, a king and still a stranger, I had more sense of seemliness. Besides, I wanted to know him first.
As we ate, I saw out of the side of my eye the woman peeping across him. Before I sat, I had saluted her and seen her face. She was neither of the Hellenes nor of the Shore Folk; her face was broad, the nose a little flat, the eyes narrow and slanted outward. She had a subtle mouth, curving and closed on a secret smile. Her brow, which was low and white, was crowned with a diadem a hand's breadth deep of gold flowers and leaves; gold flower buds on golden chains fell down each side among the streams of her strong black hair.
The chamberlain with the wine came round again. I was not ready, but the King had emptied his deep gold cup and motioned to have it filled. As he raised his hand, I saw my own beside it. The shape, the fingers, the turn of the thumbs, the very nails were the same. My breath caught; I looked, sure he would see it and stare amazed. But the woman was speaking to him softly, and he had not seen.
My dish was empty. When I had shown I was full and would take no more, he said to me, "Royal guest, by your looks you are a Hellene, And it seems to me that before ever you came to the Palace of Eleusis, there was some king's house where you were not a stranger."
I answered smiling, "Sir, that is true. What blood I come of, there is no man I will tell so gladly as you. But excuse me from it now, and I will tell you the reason later. The favor I came to ask, you know already. As for the man I killed, I fought him fair, though he had tried to have me murdered." And I told him how it was, saying, "I should not like you to think I am a man who works in the dark."
He looked down at the cup in his hand, and said, "First you must make an offering to the Daughters of Night. This is the Lady Medea, who will perform the sacrifice." The woman looked across at me with her slanting eyes. I said, "One must always appease the Mother, who takes slain men into her lap. But, sir, like you I am a Hellene. I ought to go first to Apollo, Slayer of Darkness."
I saw her look at him, but he did not catch her eye. "That shall be as you wish. The night is cold; let us go up, and drink our wine by my chamber fire. We can be easier there."
We went up the stairs behind the dais, with the white hound padding after. The room stood over the northern terrace. It was almost night, and a low autumn moon had risen. One could not see the town so far below, only the circling mountains. A fire of sweet-scented wood burned clear on the round hearth; there were two chairs before it, and near by another before an embroidery-stand. A lamp of green malachite stood on a carved pedestal; there was a deer hunt, with many horsemen, painted round the walls. The bed was of cedar-wood draped with red.
We sat; a servant set a wine-stand between us, but brought no wine. The King leaned forward, and held his hands to the fire. I saw them shaking, and thought, "He has drunk enough in Hall, and would rather wait."
Now my time had come. But my tongue stuck fast; I did not know how to begin. "He will say something," I thought, "which will start me going." So I only praised the Citadel and its strength. He said it had never fallen to an enemy, and I answered, "It never will while it is held by men who know it." For I had seen one or two places where troops used to mountains could scale the sides. He looked at me swiftly; and I thought I had been ill-bred to scan his walls so closely while he only knew me as a guest. So, when he spoke of the Isthmus war, I was glad to talk of that. Indeed, I had rehearsed on the way the story of my victories, as young men will. I wanted him to think me nothing he need be ashamed of.
He said, "And now you are King in Eleusis; the thing as well as the name. All this in one season."
"Yet," I said, "it was not to do those things that I crossed the Isthmus. That was a chance on the way, if such matters are ever chance." He looked at me searchingly under his dark brows. "Is not Eleusis the place of your moira, then? Do you look beyond?" I smiled and said, "Yes."
I thought, "Now I will speak." But as I drew breath, he rose from his chair and paced to the window. The tall dog heaved itself to its feet and strolled after. Not to sit while he stood, I got up too and joined him on the unlit terrace. Moonlight streamed over the land; across the pale fields far below the rock cast its huge shadow. I said, "The hills are dry. I should like to see them in springtime, and white with snow. How clear it is! One can see the ghost of the old moon. Is it always so clear in Athens?" "Yes," he said; "the air is bright here." I said, "As one climbs up, it meets one; as if her stones breathed light. Strong house of Erechtheus, the harpers call her. Truly they might call her Stronghold of the Gods."
He turned, and went indoors. As I followed, I found him standing with his back to the lamp, which shone into my eyes. He said, "How old are you?"
"Nineteen," I said. The lie came pat to me, after so much use. Then when I remembered whom I spoke to, the drollness caught me and made me laugh. "What is it?" he asked. His voice sounded weary, almost old. "I have good cause," I said. But before I could go on, the door swung open. Medea came in, and a servant with a tray of inlay-work. Two gold winecups stood on it, ready filled. The wine was spiced and mulled, and the rich scent of it filled the room.
She came in gently, with downcast eyes, and stood beside him. He said, "We will drink presently. Put it on the table." The servant put it down, but she said, "It will spoil with cooling," and offered it him again. Then he took his cup in his hands, and she brought me the other. It had beaded handles with doves perched over them, and was tooled with lions stalking through long leaves.
The wine smelt good, but my manners bade me wait until he pledged me. He stood with her serpent-handled cup between his hands; Medea waited silent. Suddenly he turned to her and said, "Where is the letter that Kerkyon sent me?"
She looked at him surprised, and went to an ivory coffer on a stand. I saw my letter in her hands. He said to me, "Will you tell me what it says?" I put down my cup, and took it from her. His eyes looked keen; I had not thought that his sight was thick. I read the letter to him, and he said, "Thank you. Most I could read, but a few words I was not sure of." I looked at it puzzled, and said, "I thought it was written fair." He said, in the harassed way of a man with half his mind elsewhere, "Yes, yes, a good fair hand. Your scribe can write Greek; but he spells like a barbarian."
I put down the letter as if it had bitten me. Not my face only, but even my midriff felt hot, so that I tossed my cloak back from my shoulders. Unthinking, rather than stand there like a fool, I picked up the winecup and lifted it to drink.
As my mouth touched it, I felt it plucked from my hands. Hot wine spilled on my face and splashed my clothing. The gold cup struck the painted floor tiles ringing, and made a spreading pool. A thick lees trickled from it, darker than the wine.
I stared at the King astonished, wiping my face. His eyes were on me, as if they saw death itself. No dying man could have been paler. The sight brought back my wits to me, and I saw the sword uncovered at my side. "I should have spoken," I thought. "How ill I have done all this! The shock has stunned him." I took his arm and said, "Sit down, sir. I am sorry. In one more moment I would have told you everything."
I drew him toward his chair. He grasped the chair back, and stood there out of breath. As I leaned over him, thinking what more to say, the white boarhound came padding in from the balcony, and licked at the spilled wine. He started forward, and dragged it back by the collar. I heard the rustle and chinking of a woman's ornaments; the priestess Medea, whom in her stillness I had forgotten, was shaking her head at him. It was then that I understood.
Hemlock is not so cold, nor verjuice so stinging, as the touch of that knowledge was upon my heart. I stood like stone; when the woman led the dog to the door, and slipped away with it, I let her go without raising a hand. The King leaned on his chair head, as if only that kept him from falling. At last I heard his voice, harsh and low as a death-rattle. "You said nineteen. You said you were nineteen."
The sound awakened me. I picked up the cup from the floor, and sniffed the dregs, and stood it before him. "No matter," I said. "It might have been enough that I was your guest. As for the other, that need no longer concern us."
He groped round the chair, and sat, and covered his face with his hands. I undid my sword sling, and laid the sword beside the cup. "Keep it," I said, "if you know it, and have some use for it. It is not mine. I found it under a stone."
I saw his nails dig into his forehead, pitting the flesh. A sound came from him, such as a man makes as the spear is pulled from his death-wound, when he has set his teeth trying to be silent. He wept as if his soul were being torn out of his body, while I stood leaden, wishing I might sink into the earth or melt in air.
Not till he wept had I felt he was my father; and now I felt it, it was only to be cold-with shame at seeing him brought so low. I was ashamed as if it were I who had done the wrong. The floor was puddled with trodden wine stains; the dregs in the cup smelled sickly-sweet and sour. A movement drew my eye; across the room stood the servant gaping. At my glance he tried to creep into the wall. I said, "The King gives you leave," and he scurried away.
The fire fell in on a glowing core; its heat oppressed me, and my own dumbness, and the King's fingers tangling his gray hair. I turned my back on it all, and went out between the painted columns to the balcony. Now of a sudden there was stillness, and a great space of moonlight. Shadowy mountains closed it round, the color of dusky amber. Below on the ramparts two sentries passed each other and crossed their spears. Some singer, faint in the distance, chanted a tale and softly plucked a lyre. The Citadel stood between earth and sky in a still radiance that seemed to come out of itself; and dark below it the titan rocks plunged to the plain.
I set my hands on the balustrade, and looked along the walls whose roots were mortised in living rock. And as I stood, it was as if all this flowed into me, with a singing sea-surge, and filled full my heart, and lay there like still waters. And I thought, "This is my moira."
My soul leaned out to grasp her. All else, in this moment, was as passing dust-clouds or a summer shower. I thought, "What was all that clamor within me? She has known a thousand kings. Who can tell how many have hated their fathers or their sons, or loved false women, or wept for this and that? Such things were their mortality, which lies in the grave with them and withers. Only this lives, that they were kings of Athens, who made her laws, or widened her boundaries, or strengthened her walls. High city of the purple diadem, whose stones breathe light, your daimon led me here, when I thought it was my will. Feel my hand, then, know my step, receive me; I will come when your gods summon me, and at their sign I will go. A child I came to you, stronghold of Erechtheus; but you shall make me a king."
After a while, I felt a new quiet about me. Yet the drone of singing still stirred the air. The sound that had ceased was the sound of my father's weeping. I saw him, in my mind, standing where I stood now, looking out over the Citadel, when enemies beset her, or the fields were gray with drought; or when word came that there was a new king on the border, for whom Eleusis was not big enough. Only because he had kept her well, I stood here tonight. I thought of his hard struggle and his endless shifts, and of the long-held hope turned now to poison in his belly. The bitter anger left my heart, and I felt compassion, understanding his grief.
I went in. He was sitting in his chair, his elbows on the table, his face between his hands, staring dully at the sword. I knelt down before him and said, "Father."
He creased his eyelids, as if he were sure neither of sight nor of hearing. "Father," 1 said. "See how true it is, that fate never comes in the shape men look for. The gods have done this to show us we are mortal. Let us leave off grieving, and start again."
He wiped his eyes with his hand, and looked me over a long time in silence. At last he said, "Who can say what they have done, or why? There is that in you which never came out of me."
He brushed his hair from his face, and moved forward a little, and then drew back. I saw that after what had happened, it was for me first to embrace him. So I did, though I felt shy of it, and was afraid besides it might start him weeping again. He commanded himself, however, and we both felt, I suppose, that next time would be easier. Then he went to the door, and clapped his hands, and said to the man who answered, "Take a guard of four, and bring the Lady Medea, whether she consents or not."
As the man went, I said, "You will not find her." He answered, "The gate is closed for the night, and the postern too. She is here unless she can fly." Then he said, "What is your name?" I stared at this, and we almost smiled. He said, when I told him, "It is the name your mother and I chose together. Why did you not sign your letter with it?" I told him what I had promised her, and he asked me about her, and about my grandfather. But he had one ear for the sound of the guard returning. Presently we heard their feet. He broke off and sat thinking, chin on fist, and said to me, "Do not look surprised at what I say, but agree."