Medea (46 page)

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Authors: Kerry Greenwood

Tags: #Historical, #Fiction

BOOK: Medea
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One day I was called from a game of cloth, sword, stone with the children by my lord Jason. He escorted me into my own room and made me sit down, then knelt beside me. He was alight with some scheme, and I was pleased, for he had not come to talk with me since winter began, and now it was nearly spring. I had seen white blossom in the slaves' hair when they came to serve the first meal, which meant that the plum trees in the kitchen garden were in flower.

'Lady, I have concluded a treaty,' he said.

'Indeed, my lord? With Libya?' He looked puzzled, and I explained, 'The women were talking of a trading agreement with Egypt.'

'No, no, nothing like that. Creon has offered me his daughter.'

'Creusa? What do you want with Creon's daughter?' I asked, puzzled in my turn. He touched my thigh, as though he was asking a favour.

'In marriage,' he explained. 'Creon has it all worked out. I shall divorce you - though you shall lose none of your state or position, and my children none of their legitimacy, for I am sure of your fidelity - and I shall marry Creusa, who loves me.'

I did not believe what I was hearing. He looked into my eyes, happy as a dog, and still I didn't believe it.

'You mean to divorce me and marry Creon's daughter,' I said slowly. 'Why?'

'You have never been accepted in the city,' he observed. 'You are still the foreign woman. The rumour is spreading again that you poisoned Korinthos; as indeed, you did. People have not forgotten the fate of Pelias, either. And you have clung to your old ways, even refusing to be parted from Hekate's hounds, which are still with you. People are saying that they are familiars. You look different even under a veil, with your hair and your dark skin.

'Creusa is the daughter of Corinth's most influential citizen. This alliance will cement my hold on Corinth, where I am much respected. You aren't going to be difficult, are you, Medea?'

He must have seen something in my face, for he rose and walked to the doorway. 'Creon said you would weep and scold,' he told me. 'Weep and scold as you wish, Medea. But then you will send your crown to Creusa, for she will be my queen.'

And he was gone before I could say one word of reproach. Clytie found me sitting as he had left me. It was getting dark.

'Lady?' she said into the gloom. 'Sweeting? I have heard of what he intends, this weakling lord of yours. I have been told of Jason's wicked design. But you must not sit here, unspeaking, pretty. See, I have brought some Achaeans who have not betrayed you.'

Mermerus ran into the room and threw himself into my lap. 'Mother,' he cried, burrowing into my embrace. The twins came in, hand in hand as they always did, saw tears on my cheeks and began to howl; and we collapsed into a heap on the smooth floor, injured and rejected Medea and her fatherless children, and wept until we were tired.

But if Jason thought that women can only weep and scold, he was about to be enlightened. I had left my own country for him, killed my own brother. I had betrayed my father and I had become a murderer for his sake, killing Pelias and then giving Jason poison for Korinthos. I had lost the goddess who had been my mother. And the man of Iolkos had sworn a binding oath by all the gods that he would never leave me, or I would not have ventured into that ill-starred boat. I recalled afresh that I had stumbled then, and fallen - a very bad omen. And now it was coming true.

And that sly girl, that pretty blue-eyed magic-using wanton, had snared Jason and taken him away from me, so that he forgot his vows and his children and my faithfulness, led by his phallus, like all men. She and her father had plotted this divorce. Creon the Corinthian and his daughter had stolen from me everything that I valued - for I had no doubt that a divorced barbarian would lose her children, to be taken away and brought up in civilised company.

I was rejected, abandoned, lost.

Clytie put us all to bed together that first night and sat up by the fire, watching. I think she was afraid that I might kill myself. That crossed my mind, but I rejected the thought instantly. What would my children do without me? As the dark hours wore on I remembered Atalante, the Hunter, saying scornfully, 'Your husband will leave you for another woman. You will live as a drudge, live the life of an Achaean woman, and there could not be a worse fate.'

I could smell sweat and salt as I recalled that scene; see the set, cold face of the maiden of Artemis, her lithe body balanced against the yaw and pitch of Argo. I had thought her a fanatical virgin, deeply prejudiced against the flesh, but she had been telling me the cold truth.

My husband was leaving me for another woman, for a tender, sly, treacherous, young maiden, abandoning the body which was marked with childbearing and no longer attractive to him. He had broken all his most sacred oaths. And he held Corinth in my right, something which both he and Creon had evidently forgotten.

Or perhaps they assumed that I would placidly allow Jason to continue as king and while away the rest of my life in domestic tasks, serving the new queen and tending her children while my own were rejected; for I knew it would come to that when Creusa bore Jason a son.

Perhaps they assumed that I would suicide. Perhaps they did not care what I did. Women, they thought, could only rail at fate, but must accept what men did to them, the arbiters of their destiny.

I was familiar with hot fury, an unreliable emotion, which fades as quickly as it comes. But I was not angry like that. I was chilled, so that even the puppyish bodies of my three children would not warm me.

I would return to my worship, to Hekate, my mother. I would go back to the dark where I had been fostered. I remembered Trioda, who had cursed me - and her curses had worked; all Trioda's curses worked - kneeling down in a forest and talking about power, explaining the contents of my basket.

I had power, as Jason would shortly find. And I could not go back to the Mother until I had made her a sacrifice.

I had just the sacrifice in mind.

The morning dawned wet - spring is chancy in Corinth. I stayed in my own apartments with my children. No wailing or keening came from the cruelly rejected Princess Medea, and the women wondered, I expect, but would have put it down to me being a stranger. There were things I needed, which I sent Clytie to obtain. She frowned.

'Why do you need a file, lady? Sweeting, why do you send me to Hekate's temple, to give this writing which I cannot read to the priestess there?'

'Do as I order,' I said coldly. 'Or leave my service.'

'I have not deserved that of you,' she said slowly. I had hurt her deeply. We were closer than sisters, Medea and the fisherman's wife. She had not deserved that tone from me, she was right and she was faithful, but I dared not trust her with any foreknowledge of what I was going to do, or they would kill her when it was known.

'Go,' I bade her, and she went with her fishwife's waddle, bearing my letter to Hekate's maiden. No one in Corinth except Nauplios could read Colchian, in fact the Achaeans despised writing as a base art, and only used it to list taxes and cargo manifests.

I suddenly wished I could see Nauplios again. But he had left the city, I was told by Clytie's mother; gone in his little boat to Athens where Herakles, the hero, still lived. I had an escape plan, which might not work. Herakles had told me to come to him, if ever there was anything he could do for me, in gratitude for my care and for the
lithos sophronister
I had made for him.

It was not far to Athens, though I would have to steal or buy a boat. I made a careful bundle of my favourite cloaks, the children's clothes, and all my jewellery except the golden crown of the queen of Corinth, which I would dutifully send to Creusa. I wrapped Arktos, Ichthys and Pallas in the bundle. Arktos was a sheepskin bear without which Mermerus could not sleep, Icthys was a carved olive-wood fish, which was my son Alcimedes' dearest possession, and Pallas was Eiropis' doll.

Clytie returned with the instruments and ingredients, and I banished her and the children while I prepared my spell. I took the crown of the queen of Corinth and carefully roughened the inside of the golden band, which fitted closely around the head and was worn across the brow. The gold was pure and very soft, and I managed to make very satisfactory points, like thorns, inside it. Then I coated them with Mycis Kokkinos and venom, which the priestess of Hekate had supplied without question.

If she released my lord and refused to don my crown, of course, then she would live. I did not think this likely. Creusa would never refuse such a gift as Jason, still golden-haired and young, so clever and pleasing. I suspected that the girl would not be able to resist trying on the crown as soon as it was delivered. I estimated that it would take perhaps an hour for her to die.

And die she must.

I clapped my hands and a slave entered. I gave her the box and warned her to have it delivered straight to the king's new wife as a token of my submission to Jason's will. The girl must have reported this to Jason, for I soon received a message that he was waiting to see me.

'Lord,' I said.

'Medea,' his voice was gentle. He was pleased with me. He believed that I had accepted his betrayal of all his oaths and my own demotion to drudge without question. I had not realised before that Jason was stupid.

'You have sent the crown to Creusa,' he said. 'That is well. Now, I have arranged that you will remove with the children to the outer wing of the palace. I shall need the royal apartments for my new queen.'

I looked for the last time on his self-satisfied, beautiful face. He had coarsened with good living, but he still made my heart tender. I hardened it.

'It shall be, Lord, as you desire,' I said conventionally. 'I will order it done this day.'

And he patted my cheek as though I was any common slave, and that what he asked was any common favour, and he walked out of my life. I never wished to see Jason, son of Aison, again.

I returned to my apartments, gave orders that all my belongings - my lord's belongings - were to be moved to the old, shabby rooms at the far side of the palace. I ordered Kore and Scylla to accompany me, and they rose obediently. I picked up my own bundle and, carrying Alcimedes and leading Mermerus by the hand, I left the rooms where I had tried, and failed, to become an Achaean woman.

Clytie bore Eiropis in her arms and walked behind me. I could feel her worrying, but she said nothing until we were in the corridor which leads to the kitchen courtyard.

'You are going to leave, Lady?' she asked very quietly.

'Yes. Now.'

'With my lord's children?'

'Indeed,'

'Where are we going?'

'We are not going anywhere. You are staying here and I am going to the Dark Mother, and thence to Herakles, in Athens.'

She said nothing more until we had reached the door. Outside it was raining. I had almost forgotten about weather since I had been imprisoned in my palace. I was almost afraid of going outside. Like a slave, I had grown used to my chains.

I forced my foot over the threshold, and I was out in the street. Mermerus asked, 'Where are we going, Mother?'

'To the temple on the hill,' I replied.

'Have you my father's permission?' he asked, because he knew that I was not allowed ot go anywhere unescorted.

'I do not need it now,' I said. 'Hurry. We must get to the Mother. She is calling me.'

'Is that why you're listening so hard?' he asked.

But I was listening for a scream from the house of Creon as we passed it. I heard it. But they were crying not for Creusa, but Creon. Had I managed to kill Creon as well? My spirits rose at the thought. Creusa could never have seduced my lord from his sworn word but with the connivance of her father.

Corinth stared as we passed, the royal witch and her children and the fisherman's wife. We toiled up the hill. I was panting. I had done no walking since I came to the king's palace. My knees trembled and Alcimedes put on weight with every step.

'Lady,' said Clytie in the rear. 'Let the child walk. Pause for a moment.'

'No, we must get to the temple,' I insisted, hefting my son and forcing my knees to take another step.

'Sweeting,' said Clytie, as we came into the sacred precincts, 'what have you done?'

'A deed fully as dreadful as any which could have been blamed on the Colchian stranger,' I told her. 'Stay here with the children. Stay with Clytie,' I told Mermerus, kissing him. He smelt as the young smell, like new-baked bread and sunshine. 'You cannot come into this temple, my son. But you will be safe here with Clytie and I will come as soon as I can.'

The twins embraced me in their usual way, mirror image kisses on each cheek, and then demanded their toys. I gave Pallas to Eiropis and watched Alcimedes sit down abruptly on the cool stone to play with Icthys, but Mermerus was too old to want to be seen cuddling a shabby sheepskin bear in public, so Arktos remained in the bundle.

With Kore and Scylla at my heels, I went through the cool temple and descended to the cave, where the old woman who had supplied my poisons sat on a bench near the cold hearth.

'Medea,' she said. 'Fallen and abandoned, do you now wish to return to Hekate's embrace, now that your flesh is sated and your lord desires another? Hekate is no second-best, Princess.'

'I return to Hekate,' I stated in the ritual words. 'I will wash away my faithlessness with blood, and join with her again in blood, if she will accept me.'

'Take the knife,' said the old woman, handing me a razor-sharp blade socketed in stone.

I heard my children playing outside, above the cavern of Hekate. I heard Eiropis laughing and Mermerus telling Clytie in a worried tone that he was sure that we should not be out in the street without an escort.

Then I cut my wrist, deep. Only my blood would suffice for this sacrifice. The blade stung, being metal. My blood dripped onto the stone altar, and I heard a rustle as of batwings and smelt the cold smell of stone. I found again the skill which I thought I had lost; I sank into the moment, cutting myself off from every other sound but the drop of my blood and the whisper, if she spoke, of the goddess.

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