People of the Inner Sea (The Age of Bronze) (9 page)

"But Klutaimnéstra, you must listen!" Meneláwo shouted, rising to his feet and catching the woman's hands so that she could not strike him again.  "Ip'emédeya is not dead!  I swear it!  Agamémnon killed a hind instead.  He substituted a deer, do you hear me?  Your daughter is…"

"I do not believe you!" Klutaimnéstra shrieked, violently freeing her hands.  "You are as much a liar as that sack of wine you call your friend, that Odushéyu!"  She flailed at her brother-in-law with her fists.

Meneláwo held his arms over his head to ward off her blows, stumbling backward.  Over her protests, he shouted, "No, no, I swear by the river of the dead!  Sister-in-law, listen to me, I swear by the Stuks!  Ip'emédeya is alive!"

The wánasha stared at him in sudden silence, wanting to believe but not convinced, her breath coming harshly through ochre-reddened lips.  Her wild movements had thrown the cloak from her shoulders, baring her heavy, pendulous breasts over a tight, blue bodice.  Her hands hung in the air, trembling.

The Lakedaimóniyan king dropped his arms, collapsing into his chair, and repeated in a whisper, "Ip'emédeya is alive."

Blinking back tears, Klutaimnéstra brought shuddering hands to her mouth.  "Where is she?"

Meneláwo turned his eyes away.  "That I cannot tell you.  I swore an oath to Agamémnon."

"By the goddess…" Klutaimnéstra began, still quivering with emotion.

"But she is alive, I swear, I swear," her brother-in-law hastened to say.  He knelt before the woman as her fists rose in renewed fury.  Embracing her knees with one arm, he raised his other hand toward her face.  "Please, Klutaimnéstra, please listen.  I accepted you as the wánasha of Argo the day you married my brother.  Agamémnon's claim to kingship resides in you, not the other way around.  I swore an oath to that effect on your wedding day, do you remember?  I repeat it now, the most sacred oath a man can utter.  I swear by the Stuks, the river I must cross to enter the land of the dead, that you and you alone are the rightful queen of Argo.  As I am an Argive by birth, that makes me your subject.  May the gods strike me dead if I lie to my own queen.  May the river of death deny me crossing if I swear falsely."

Seeing that the woman was somewhat appeased, he rose, releasing her skirts, and spoke with less formality.  "If you want me to take Orésta home with me, I will do it.  You and Agamémnon need time to work things out.  I understand that.  And you are right.  I had planned all along to leave as soon as possible.  I do not want to be here when my brother arrives.  That would only make things more difficult between you two, having your sister and his brother looking on.  But calm your heart, Klutaimnéstra.  Ip'emédeya did not die.  I swear it.  Your daughter is alive.  My brother will tell you this himself and reveal the rest, when he comes home."

aaa

Aígist'o met the wánasha when she finally left the throne room, a saucer-like lamp in her hand.  She would not meet his eager eyes.  In silence, she led the way up the northern staircase to the private apartments of the palace.  Aígist'o watched with longing as the queen's broad hips swayed, in her walk.  Hesitantly he reached forward and lightly rested a hand on her ample buttocks.  With an angry glare over her shoulder, she slapped him away.  Aígist'o ran the back of his hand over his whiskerless upper lip and said nothing.  He paused briefly as they approached the row of small bed-chambers.  But Klutaimnéstra did not slacken her pace.  She pressed on, leading the way to a storeroom at the end of the corridor.  Aígist'o followed her inside and pulled the door closed against the stone threshold, fastening the latch.  There, amid baskets of inscribed wooden tablets, the queen and councilor stood and whispered in the light of the oil-burning lamp.

"Meneláwo swears that my Ip'emédeya is alive," Klutaimnéstra told him quickly, watching her companion's reaction carefully.

"He is lying," Aígist'o gasped.  "Qálki sent you a message."

The queen pressed her full lips together, thinking.  "Qálki was a godly man.  He would not lie to me.  But he could have been deceived.  As for Meneláwo, I do not think he is lying either.  He is a simple man, unlike his fat swine of a brother.  Meneláwo believes what he says."

"But if she is not dead, where can she be?" Aígist'o asked, his hands raised in bewilderment and disbelief.  "Where could princess Ip'emédeya go, that we would not have heard of her?"

Klutaimnéstra sighed and her eyes grew soft and wet.  "That is the problem.  Meneláwo will not tell me.  He swore an oath to his brother, he says.  And I cannot guess the answer myself.  Nor can I imagine how Agamémnon could substitute a deer at the sacrifice without Qálki knowing."

Aígist'o laughed without mirth.  "By the goddess, if any man could deceive a true prophet, it would be Agamémnon."  He considered the matter briefly, shaking his head.  "But I cannot think how it could be done, either.  No, it is absurd.  What nonsense has Meneláwo told you?  Such a thing could not be done."

The wánasha shook her head and firmly repeated, "Still, Meneláwo swears it."

Her councilor thought a moment, studying the woman's face and stroking his beard.  "Think of this, my queen.  How does Meneláwo know that your daughter is not dead?  Could he be mistaken?  Has he actually seen her?  Or did Agamémnon only tell him this preposterous story?"

With a sigh deeper than before, Klutaimnéstra answered, "He will say only that she is alive, nothing more.  Owái, I would give up all of Argo to Agamémnon, and Lakedaimón as well, if only he would put Ip'emédeya's hand in mine once more."

Aígist'o was alarmed.  "What are you saying?  Has your heart changed so much?  We discussed this issue fully before we made our final plans, or have you forgotten?  When Agamémnon comes home, will you accept your husband into your house again, after all?"

Klutaimnéstra did not answer immediately.  When she did, her words were carefully chosen.  "I think it might be wise to postpone our plans.  I must ask Agamémnon himself about this matter.  If Ip'emédeya is alive, I truly must know and I will have to find out where she is before anything else is done."

"Wánasha," Aígist'o gasped, horrified.  "You cannot, you must not seriously believe this story.  Ai gar, my lady, if Agamémnon deceived anyone, it is surely Meneláwo.  As you say, he is as simple and trusting a man as his brother is wily and devious.  But even Agamémnon could not fool a seer.  No, surely Qálki would have known if Agamémnon had tried to substitute an animal in the sacrifice.  Qálki was a clever man, even aside from his insights into the hearts of the gods.  At the very least, he would have suspected something.  And if he had, we would have heard about it.  But we heard nothing, my dear Klutaimnéstra, absolutely nothing!"

"Except from Meneláwo," the queen frowned.  "Listen to me, Aígist'o, we cannot be certain.  After all, Agamémnon always was an impious man.  He never liked seers.  If he were contemplating something so boldly blasphemous as to deceive his whole army, he would hardly confide it in Qálki.  No, he trusted his own flesh and blood, like any man.  He would confide in his brother alone.  You see, it makes sense that only Meneláwo would know.  Does it not?"  She wanted his agreement, wanted it desperately.

But Aígist'o continually shook his head.  He took the lamp from the queen's hand and set it on the edge of a shelf lined with tablets of smooth wood.  With sad eyes, he faced the queen, his hands on her cloaked shoulders.  "Owái, wánasha, you want to believe this story so much that you are letting the maináds take hold of you.  Resist their charms and listen to reason.  It was Agamémnon's impiety that both brought down the plague and held back the wind at Aúli.  You know that.  Qálki said so and he had true sight.  As if that were not enough, your own sacred geese confirmed that same face, in the pattern of their flight.  You cannot have forgotten that fact.

“No, much as you hate to accept it, you must.  Your daughter is irretrievably lost to you and that wicked husband of yours, Agamémnon, is to blame.  It was his evil deed that angered the goddess.  It was his wrong-doing that required a sacrifice.  Qálki foretold that Ip'emédeya's death would be the only way that the Ak'áyan army could sail to Wilúsiya.  The sacrifice took place, as it had to.  Your godless husband agreed to the price, as we knew he would, offering up his own daughter's flesh to his base ambition."

Klutaimnéstra bridled, stung by the councilor's words.  "What are you saying?  If Agamémnon sacrificed Ip'emédeya to ambition, what did I agree to?  Are you implying that all this was a bargain that you and I made with the gods, my daughter’s life in exchange for their help in taking Argo into my own hands?  Ai, you make me sound as heartless as Agamémnon!  No, no, I cannot accept this.  Qálki could have been fooled.  It is possible," said the wánasha, tears welling up despite her efforts to suppress them.

Aígist'o's forehead wrinkled with concern.  "All right, my queen.  Since it upsets you, I will say no more about our earlier discussions or the words of Qálki.  Let us suppose the seer was deceived.  But there were thousands of other witnesses to the sacrifice.  What about all the soldiers?  If even a single man suspected that Agamémnon was up to something, or learned later that he had not made the sacrifice as he was directed to, what would have happened?  The troops would have deserted your husband.  And did they?  No, they did not.  We know this because the Ak'áyans did sail to Wilúsiya."

Klutaimnéstra waved her hands angrily.  "But what is an army?  Only men.  Most of Agamémnon's soldiers were dull-witted, many of them only potters and bakers outside of the war season.  If he could deceive a clever prophet, he could easily fool his troops," the queen argued.  "I am sorry, Aígist'o, but I cannot take the chance of losing my daughter forever.  I must talk to Agamémnon about this.  We have to postpone our plans.  There is no other way."

Aígist'o sighed.  He knelt before Klutaimnéstra and spoke more softly than before.  "Owái, sweet lady, hear me out.  I understand why this means so much to you.  I do.  Yes, it is barely possible that Qálki and the army were deceived, although I do not think it likely.  Even so, Agamémnon could not have fooled the gods.  You know this is true.  But the gods must have been with them, in spite of everything Qálki did and said, because the army succeeded in taking the great city in the end and Meneláwo brought your sister back home."

"But Qálki might have misunderstood our instructions," Klutaimnéstra said, casting about for any argument that would bolster Meneláwo's claim.  "He might have…"

Aígist'o took her hands in his, remaining on his knees.  "No, my queen.  It is true that Qálki was following our orders, doing what he could to delay the army's arrival in Assúwa.  But he did this as a man of god accomplishes anything, by praying.  He called upon to the sea god to use the waves as divine weapons against the Ak'áyan army.  Do not deceive yourself by supposing that he called for Ip'emédeya's blood for such a profane reason.  No, lady, Qálki had true sight.  Events unfolded as they were destined to.  Agamémnon's misdeeds truly angered the divine queen of the maináds.  It was truly she who required your daughter's death.  But the lady Artémito could not been deceived by any man, no matter how clever he might be.  She would have known if a deer's heart had bled on her altar, no matter how many men were fooled.  She would have held back the wind still longer and shot the men of the army with her invisible arrows of yet another pestilence if Agamémnon had attempted such a deception.  But that did not happen.  The plague ended.  The wind came so that the army sailed to Assúwa.  In the battles there, the gods ended up favoring Ak'áiwiya's warriors.  So we can only conclude that Agamémnon did sacrifice Ip'emédeya.  I am terribly sorry to say all this.  I know that it pains you to hear my words.  But you know that this is true.  It has to be so."  He pressed her soft hands to his lips.  "It was fate."

Klutaimnéstra's shoulders drooped, her eyes brimming.  Her lips trembled and she whispered, "But Meneláwo seemed so sure…."

Aígist'o rose.  Gently, he put his long, thin arms around the queen and pressed her damp face to his shoulder.  "My love, if Agamémnon deceived anyone, it was Meneláwo.  His brother would not want to see his own niece die, of course, so there was his motive.  But you must be realistic.  Your poor, dear, princess Ip'emédeya is dead.  She is in the bosom of Mother Diwiyána now.  Her shade dwells in lady Préswa's land.  You must accept this.  You cannot have her back.  We simply must press on with the plans we made before.  This, too, is fate."

Clinging to Aígist'o's embroidered robe, Klutaimnéstra wept.

aaa

Odushéyu met his fellow king in the corridor outside the bed-chambers.  "We must stay in Argo," the It'ákan mariner hissed, grasping Meneláwo's arm.  "You can see it, can you not?  Klutaimnéstra is plotting against Agamémnon, I am sure of it.  You forget that your first loyalty is to your own flesh and blood.  Even if you are so impious as to brush that aside, it is our duty to our overlord to stay and help him against his wife."