House of Names

by Colm Toibin

  ‘The guards’ faces were all badged with blood,’ she said, ‘and so were their daggers. They must have been drunk. They will do no more drinking now, no more killing either.’

  It was nothing more than a feud between men, Electra added, and would seem nothing to her father when he returned. She had issued an order in my name against any dice or card games. All drinking would be banned too, she said, until Agamemnon returned.

  I moved with Orestes into the open air. I spoke to him gently as we went in search of a soldier who would train him further in the art of sword fighting.

  It was too dangerous, I thought, to venture far in the corridors at night. In the dark hours, I stayed by my door, watching, listening for the slightest sound.

  One night, when Aegisthus appeared, as I knew he would, like a fox following a trail, he beckoned me to a chamber where there was no one.

  ‘I have men under my control,’ he whispered. ‘We are now ready. We can do anything.’

  ‘Go to the house of each of the elders my husband left to govern,’ I whispered. ‘Take a child. A son or a grandson. Your men must explain that I gave orders for this and that if they want the child returned they must appeal to me. Take the children some distance away. Do not harm them. Keep them safe.’

  He smiled.

  ‘Are you sure?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ I said and moved silently away from him and back to my chamber.

  Nothing happened for some days. More rumours came of Agamemnon’s victories and of the enormous spoils he was conveying back to the palace. The elders came to consult with me when it was clear that Agamemnon would return once some further territories were under his control.

  ‘We must prepare a fitting welcome for him,’ they said, and I bowed and nodded and asked their permission to call Orestes into the room, and Electra, so that they might hear of their father’s glory, so that they too might prepare themselves for his return. Orestes came in solemnly with his sword by his side. He listened as a man might listen, not smiling but mimicking the gestures of a man. Electra asked that she might greet her father, before I did or the elders did, since she had been the one who had remained, who had ensured that her father’s rule prevailed while I was away. This was agreed. I bowed.

  A few days later, some women came to my quarters in the hours after dawn to say that the elders wished to see me, that they had gathered one by one as the light came up and they seemed agitated. Some, indeed, had wanted to visit me in my room, only to be informed that I was sleeping and could not be disturbed. I sent a woman to find Orestes so that he would not come looking for me and asked her to accompany him to the garden. I dressed carefully and slowly. It would be better, I thought, if the men were left to wait.

  They began by asking me where the children who had been taken were, but soon, as I asked them, ‘What children? What do you mean taken?’, they realized that they had spoken too hastily.

  ‘Why are you here?’ I asked them.

  They explained, interrupting one another, that a group of men, all strangers, had come in the night and taken one male child, their son or grandson, and that each group of intruders had said that they were acting on my orders.

  ‘I do not give orders,’ I said.

  ‘Do you know anything about this?’ one of them asked.

  ‘I know that I was sleeping and I was woken to say that you were here. That is what I know.’

  Some of them now were nervously backing away.

  ‘Have you searched for these children?’ I asked. ‘I am sure this is what my husband would want you to do. The sooner you begin the search the better.’

  ‘We were told that searching would not bear fruit,’ one of them said.

  ‘And you believed that?’ I asked.

  They started to talk among themselves until Electra arrived, when they left my presence. I spent the day alone in my room, or with Orestes in the garden. I noticed the guards were more uneasy now, more watchful, and I determined that I would not move from my room tonight, or any night soon. It would not be long before I would walk where I pleased by day, in full light.

  Theodotus, one of the elders, the most eminent and sharp among them, came to see me later that day. The grandchild taken, he said, was his only son’s only child. Much depended on this boy, whose name was Leander. They hoped that he would be a great leader. As I listened to him, I displayed as much sympathy as I could manage. When he asked me finally if there was nothing I could do, if I really knew nothing, I hesitated. I walked along a corridor with him and, on our parting, I said: ‘There will be news in good time. For now, can you let the others know that if one of them seeks to contact Agamemnon before his return, or send a message to him about this, or tell him about it when he comes back, then this will not help? It will emphatically not help. If you and they remain silent and obey the law, however, then you would all be wise to hope. Can you convey that from me to the others?’

  I suggested that he should come to see me again soon, and perhaps then there would be news. I was certain that by the end of the day he would have told the other men that he believed that I was aware who had taken them, and that it was even possible from how I spoke that I had been fully responsible for their abduction.

  By that night I saw a different disposition, even in the guards. They seemed more humble, almost afraid. The only one who had not changed was Electra. She told me that the men were searching far and wide for the children and that she agreed with them that bandits were behind what had happened and we must be more vigilant in the short time before her father returned. She spoke like someone who was in control.

  Two days later, as further rumours came of our victories in battle and of the large number of slaves captured, I walked alone through the palace and down to the kitchens and the storerooms, asking where Aegisthus was kept. At first, no one would tell me. When I said that I would not leave unless I was shown where he was, I was brought to one of the storerooms, where a trapdoor was lifted.

  ‘His dungeon is down here,’ I was told.

  ‘Get a torch,’ I said.

  We descended a ladder to the floor below.

  ‘Where is Aegisthus?’ I asked as I saw three narrow doors.

  They were still unwilling to say, until I made it clear that I was not only determined but impatient. When a door was finally opened, I found my prey sitting happily in the corner playing with a bird. He had furniture in the room, including a bed. The room was lit by a tiny window, which gave a chink of light.

  ‘I cannot come with you unless you release the prisoners in the next cells,’ he said.

  ‘How many are there?’

  ‘Two,’ he said.

  As I demanded that I be allowed to see the other two cells, the guards were becoming increasingly nervous.

  ‘We have no authority to open these cells,’ one of them said.

  ‘I am the authority,’ I replied. ‘From now on, you will report to me. Open the cells.’

  The middle one did not have any light. When we opened the door and no one emerged, I believed that it had been empty all along. In the final one, there was a young man who seemed frightened of us and asked for Aegisthus. I told him that we would unchain him and that he would be free to walk out himself to find Aegisthus in his cell, but he shook his head and said that he did not want to leave his own cell until he had spoken to Aegisthus. A low, hollow sound then came from the middle cell, a sound that was like a man’s voice, but with no words. When I took the torch and entered, I found an old man in the corner. I slowly stepped away from him and returned to find Aegisthus.

  ‘Who are these two men?’

  ‘The old man has been here for as long as anyone can remember. No one knows who he is or why he is here. I need to speak to the other one now.’

  ‘Who is he?’

  ‘I cannot say.’

  Aegisthus moved out of his cell and down to the cell of the younger man. He closed the door so that no one could hear. When they both appeared, and Aegisthus began t
o give orders, I stood back and watched him, surprised.

  ‘Remove his chains. Give him fresh clothes and food,’ he said. ‘And shelter him until night falls. Then he will depart. And unchain the old man and leave his cell door open. Feed him and then let him go too.’

  And then he hesitated before he smiled.

  ‘And feed the birds,’ he added. ‘They are used to being fed.’

  The guards who had followed us down into this dank cellar studied Aegisthus with amazement, and then looked at me. A few minutes earlier, he had been their prisoner.

  ‘Do what he says,’ I commanded.

  We walked together through the palace to my chamber, to be confronted by Electra.

  ‘This man, this Aegisthus,’ she said, ‘is both a prisoner and a hostage. He must be returned to his cell. The guards will return him to his cell.’

  ‘He is my bodyguard,’ I said. ‘He will be with me at all times until your father returns.’

  ‘We have our own guards,’ she said.

  ‘Who got drunk and murdered four men,’ I said. ‘Aegisthus remains here with me as my guard. Anyone who wishes to see me, or speak to me, must know that he is on guard.’

  ‘My father will want to know –’ she began.

  ‘Your father will want to know,’ I interrupted, ‘what happened to the four men he sent here, four men who were his close friends, and he will also want to know what happened to the children who have been taken. This is a most dangerous time. I suggest that you take precautions too.’

  ‘No one would dare touch me,’ she said.

  ‘In that case, don’t take any precautions at all,’ I said.

  Soon, many of the elders arrived, wishing to see me. I ordered Aegisthus not to speak as he accompanied me, to walk behind me, to remain silent at all times.

  He responded as though this were an amusing game.

  I explained to the elders that we must all be careful now in these days before the return of Agamemnon. There must be more vigilance, there must be no more events to make my husband feel that we had not been most careful. For that reason, I had my own bodyguard.

  ‘Aegisthus is being held prisoner,’ one of them said. ‘He is a murderer.’

  ‘Good,’ I said. ‘He will murder anyone who approaches my chamber without permission. And when my husband returns, Agamemnon will decide all matters and we will all be safer, but until then I will protect myself and I suggest that all of you follow suit.’

  ‘Does Aegisthus know where our children and grandchildren are?’ one of the men asked. ‘He has followers.’

  ‘Followers?’ I asked. ‘This man knows nothing more than what I have told him. I have informed him that there have been grave breaches of the peace here, and his task is to protect me and my son and my daughter until Agamemnon returns. My husband will have much to say to you about how you allowed the children to be taken, and how you allowed his most trusted men to be murdered by their guards.’

  One of the men made to speak and then stopped. I could see they were afraid.

  I asked Theodotus to meet me alone. He seemed eager and wondered if there was news about his grandson.

  ‘When my husband returns, after a day or two, we will raise the matter with him. But you know Agamemnon as I do. He will not be happy to hear news of negligence. When all is calm, and he has slept, then we will speak to him of this. It cannot be dealt with in any other way. We do not want his anger turned on us.’

  ‘Yes, that is wise,’ he said.

  Aegisthus, who had been listening, walked behind me to my chamber, where we found Orestes with some of the women. I saw Orestes examining Aegisthus suspiciously. He did not know whether this new man was a guard whose duty would be to play with him, or whether he represented some rank above a guard and thus could not be ordered to take part in a sword fight. Before he could decide, I asked the women to take Orestes and find a guard who could play at sword fighting with him until he was tired.

  I ordered Aegisthus then to alert his followers to move from hill to hill and be ready to light fires to signal to us where Agamemnon was and how soon he and his entourage would appear. He disappeared for a short time. When he returned, he said that he already had men on the lookout, but now there would be more, and they would have permission to light fires on hills.

  ‘Where did you go just now?’ I asked him.

  ‘I have my people close,’ he replied.

  ‘In the palace?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, close,’ he repeated.

  I ate alone at my table that evening, my food served as usual by the women. They brought Aegisthus food to a smaller table near the door.

  When Orestes was asleep, I asked that he be moved, as usual, to his own small chamber.

  Aegisthus sat in the shadows and did not speak. We were alone. In all the plans I had made, I had not considered what might happen now. I had left any close imaginings out of my mind. I was sure, however, that I did not want him to leave. Even though I supposed that he was armed and alert, with one word, I thought, I could have him returned to his cell.

  I needed to be certain of him before Agamemnon returned. But I was still not certain. Did he plan to sit watching over me all night? If I slept, how could I know that he would not leave? Or injure me?

  He had a choice, I realized. He could flee and save his life. Or he could wait and see what more he could gain. I had, after all, promised him everything. What did he believe that I had meant? Since I was not sure, I did not see how he could be.

  As he studied me, his smile grew more shy, more shadowy. In the silence between us, I knew now what I had stopped myself from thinking in the days before. I realized what I had kept from my mind since the time when I had first heard of this prisoner in chains. I wanted him in my bed. I saw that he understood that. But still he did not move. He gave no indication of what he would do were I to order him to cross the room.

  He watched me and then lowered his head. He was like a boy. I knew that he was weighing up what he would do. And I would wait for him to decide.

  I do not know how much time went by. I lit a low torch and undressed and prepared for bed, Aegisthus observing me all the time. Once I was ready, I quenched the torch so that we were in darkness. It occurred to me that I might find him at dawn, still watching. And he had, at any time, the chance to go, disappear. If he did, the children who had been taken would not be returned, or he would ransom them. I had risked too much, I thought, but I had had no other choice, or I did not think I had. I wondered if Theodotus might have been a better ally instead. He had seemed to want to take me into his confidence. As I was working out how I might have encouraged him, Aegisthus crossed the room, making enough noise for me to know that he was moving towards my bed. I heard him undress.

  His body was thin. His face, when I touched it, was small and smooth, almost like a woman’s. I noted some hair on his chest and then the wiry hair between his legs. He was not aroused until he opened his small mouth and edged his tongue towards mine. He gasped when I took his tongue into my mouth.

  We did not sleep. In the dawn, when I looked at him he smiled and the smile suggested that he was satisfied or might be soon, the same smile that could, as I later learned, also light up his face after the greatest scheming and cruelty.

  But there was no smile when I told him what I was planning. Once he learned that I was preparing to murder my husband on his return from the wars, Aegisthus became serious. When he discovered that I wanted his help in this, he looked at me sharply, then moved from the bed towards the window and stood alone with his back to me. The expression on his face when he turned was almost hostile.

  ‘So this is what you want me for?’ he said.

  ‘I will do the killing,’ I said. ‘I do not need you for that.’

  ‘But you want my help? This is why I am here?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Who else knows?’ he asked.

  ‘No one.’

  ‘No one at all?’ he asked, looking at me directly, po
inting his finger towards the sky as if to ask if I had implored the gods for permission to do what I planned to do. ‘No one has been consulted?’

  ‘No one.’

  The look that came on his face then made me shiver.

  ‘I will help you when the time comes,’ he said. ‘You can be sure that I will help you.’

  Soon, he found the old woman, the poisonous weaver, and brought her to the palace, and then her granddaughter. In those days, I began to visit Electra’s chambers, with Aegisthus waiting outside like a faithful dog, to discuss with her the ceremony we would create upon her father’s arrival. We left nothing to chance. I told her that Orestes would greet his father first. He had become skilful at swordplay and we said we would allow him a short mock fight with Agamemnon while his followers cheered. Then Electra would welcome her father and assure him that his kingdom was as peaceful and law-abiding and loyal to him as when he had left it five years earlier.

  When Electra asked if she could mention the name of Iphigenia in her speech, I said no, that her father’s mind could easily darken after his long battles, and that nothing should be said by her or by anyone that would undermine his welcome, his happiness.

  ‘Our task is to make him feel at ease,’ I said, ‘now that he is once more among the people that he loves. This is what he has been thinking about since he left us, this glorious return.’

  In the days before Agamemnon’s arrival, as fires were lit on the tops of hills to warn us of his approach, I noticed a tension all around me. I made sure to see Electra each day. When she asked me if Aegisthus would be in the line of men to meet her father, I said no, he would not be there. It would be some days, I said, before I would explain to Agamemnon how unsafe I felt in these times and how I had needed a protector for Orestes. She nodded quietly as if she agreed with this. I embraced her warmly.

  I spoke to each of the elders about the tone of the welcome they would offer to Agamemnon. It almost amused me how quickly they had become accustomed to the silent presence of Aegisthus. They must have known, since rumours spread fast in the palace, that he spent each night in my bed; they must have wondered what would happen to him, or indeed to me, on Agamemnon’s return.