by Colm Toibin
On those nights when there were feasts for them in the dining room, I noticed a giddy watchfulness as every guest was aware that outside here the naked body of my father had once lain beside the body of a beautiful woman dressed in red whom he had brought back from the wars.
The guests were in the presence now of the woman who had murdered him, who had done so, it was known, without any permission from the gods. This gave my mother a strange, malignant power. It made her presence glow as the evening wore on. She dominated the room, yet no one seemed nervous; instead, they were excited, fired up, loquacious. Death and all its drama filled them with a satisfaction that lasted until the very end of the evening.
I believed at first that time and circumstances would cause any one of these men to realize how much power could come into his hands were I, with my sister dead and my brother missing, to become his wife.
I ordered the seamstresses to go through the wardrobe of my sister Iphigenia, always more elaborate than mine, since she was the favoured one, to see what was left there after all the years. We selected some robes and dresses that might be adapted for a sister who was less beautiful.
At first, I did not wear what they made for me to any of the dinners, but I often tried them on in the afternoon and wore them when I was alone.
As I attended the dinners, I imagined myself in my sister’s robes, my hair carefully coiled and my face whitened with black lines around my eyes. I imagined what it would be like to be noticed and to make an impression.
I would remain silent, I told myself, once I was dressed in these new clothes. I would smile, but not too much, and I would seem content, as though I possessed some inner light.
I watched the visitors and dreamed of how easy it might be for one of them to stay here with us, and how we would secretly arrange our alliance. I imagined how unsettled my mother and Aegisthus would become as I took a husband.
We would have guards fully loyal to us, and sources of treasure that were ours alone. And we would bide our time, or move fast, as we judged right. We would do what I could not do on my own.
I would choose my evening. I would decide between one of the smaller dinners that my mother held, or a larger occasion, perhaps a celebration of some fresh victory, some new set of spoils.
When news came that there had been a revolt in one of the more distant places and that the rebels had held out for weeks, creating murder and mayhem, killing the wife of an old ally of my father’s and putting his children to the sword, we soon learned that the warrior himself, Dinos, and a small band of his soldiers had survived the initial massacre and finally defeated the marauding forces, so that peace had been restored. Many executions had taken place.
The idea that Dinos, who had lost so much, had been fully loyal caused my mother great joy. She sent him well-equipped forces to assist him and also many personal gifts. She granted land to his father, who lived near the palace. And she also sent one of Aegisthus’ closest allies to replace Dinos, should he wish to return to see his father and be received in glory. She spoke often of his bravery, of how handsome he was and how much he was admired.
It struck me then that such a husband would set me free. He would be strong and cunning enough to withstand my mother and Aegisthus and, since news of his exploits had spread, his name would be known by all. Should he wish to marry again, he would not be opposed. And should he wish to marry the daughter of Agamemnon, with whom he had often served, then that would seem natural, almost part of what was due to him.
We would be careful at first, I thought. He could advise my mother and Aegisthus. And slowly he would begin to see how poisonous they both were, how they stank of blood, and how necessary it was for both my mother and her lover to be sent to a place where they could cause no further damage.
Preparations began for Dinos’ arrival. It was agreed that a large spectacle in the streets would be put on to honour him and this would be followed by a feast.
For that, I decided to have the seamstress create for me a sumptuous robe that was close in its shape and texture to one that my sister had once worn. Each day, a maid came to refashion my hair and another servant came with unguents and sweet water to soften my skin. After a few weeks, when the dress was ready, the seamstress and her helpers and the other servants came to my room and watched me as I prepared myself.
When I was alone with the spirits of my father and my sister, I put on the dress and pulled my hair back so my face would be clearly seen. As I proudly moved around the room, I felt that I was under their care. Before the feast for Dinos, I wanted their approval.
For several days before the spectacle and the feast, Dinos was in the palace. He was received by my mother and Aegisthus, who held, I was told, formal meetings with him about supplies of troops and other support that he needed to ensure no further rebellions took place. There was also a private dinner for him and his father at which, I was informed by one of the servants, he expressed himself inconsolable at the loss of his wife and his children. But he did not weep. At all times, he maintained a distance, like a commander. He was handsome, one of my maids told me, one of the most handsome men she had ever seen.
Since I did not see my mother during these days, she sent word by one of her servants that she would be less than pleased if I did not attend the feast, although it would, for safety reasons, be best not to go into the streets beforehand for the spectacle.
I imagined entering the great dining room at the moment when everyone was already there. I saw the door opening and I heard the silence, the few seconds when no one seemed to be speaking, when attention could easily be drawn towards the door. I saw Dinos’ father move towards me, making space for me as I went with him towards the main table. And then I imagined Dinos himself turning.
All afternoon, the maids worked on my hair and my skin. The dress was taken for one further alteration and then returned. An hour before the guests assembled, I was ready. Once the lines had been put around my eyes, I asked the seamstress and the servants to leave me so that I could compose myself. One servant, however, I asked to remain close to my room so she could tell me when the guests were all there.
Slowly, I summoned up my sister’s spirit. I touched my face as though it were her face. I whispered to my father. When the servant beckoned, I was ready. I walked alone down the corridor to the dining room. I stood back as the servant opened the doors and then I walked alone into the room, looking at no one directly, but ready to catch the eye of anyone who looked at me.
What I heard first was my mother’s voice. She was telling a story about how, when she had heard the news of the insurrection, she had appealed immediately to the gods and then how, on the advice of the gods, she had sent her most trusted soldiers to go to Dinos’ aid and put down the revolt with speed and efficiency. She spoke of the gods in a way that was perfunctory, almost dismissive, and that, I thought, might have been noticed by everyone in the room.
And then she saw me. I was still standing at the door. In one second, when I raised my eyes, I caught her gaze. She stopped speaking.
‘Oh, no,’ she said in a louder voice than before. ‘I have heard all week that there was something afoot with Electra, but I never foresaw this.’
She brushed guests aside as she stepped towards me, but there was still a wide space between me and her, enough for her to have to shout for me to hear her.
‘And who is responsible for this?’ she asked.
I glanced at some of the others, who were staring at me. There was no one close to me. The doors behind me had been shut.
‘Oh, go and sit down,’ she said, ‘before too many people see you. Aegisthus, can you take Electra to the table and keep her company? Or find someone who will.’
Aegisthus whispered to one of his associates, who accompanied me to the table. I sat between him and one of his friends and looked away or stared straight ahead as they made idle comments to each other. A few times, I directed my gaze at Dinos, but he did not once acknowledge my presence. There wer
e many dishes served and then fine speeches. The wine flowed. For most of the guests, it seemed, the memory of my father’s murder had faded. But it had not faded for me. As I watched my mother and Dinos speaking, as I saw my mother’s eyes flash as she told him some story, as I watched her exude all her charm as she listened to him, I thought of my father until he was more real, more vehemently present in this room, than any of these people who were in thrall to my mother and her lover and their power.
At the end of the evening, I managed to leave as others were departing. And thus no one noticed me as I made my way back to my room.
All I wanted then was a sign from my father and my sister that my brother was still alive and that he would return. But I waited to ask, I waited until I was sure, until I knew that the saying of his name would not merely cause disruption in the air.
One day, I whispered it. I said the name. At first, there was silence. In another whisper, I asked them to send me a signal if he was still alive. I stood against the door to make sure we would not be disturbed.
But there was nothing, no sign.
Later, I went again to my father’s grave. I was sure my sister’s spirit was still with me. The air was thundery, the light purple. As I waited at the grave, I tried to move nearer my father’s spirit than I had ever been before. And it was then, as the rain came in heavy drops, that I understood what would happen.
Orestes was alive. I knew that then. But he was somewhere else, in a house where he was safe, where he was protected. It would be some time before he would return. But it was here, at this grave, that I would see him.
He would come, I was told, he would come in time. All I had to do was wait.
Orestes
The stones, carefully chosen to defend them from the dogs in the farm below, were heavy and slowed them down as they set out. It was the early morning. Leander, speaking about strategy and tactics, was so filled with purpose as they walked on that Orestes understood it was a way of distracting them both from thinking about Mitros and the old woman and the house that, no matter what happened, he imagined they would not see again.
Once they neared the place where they had been surrounded by dogs, they moved even more cautiously. Soon, after every few steps, Leander put his finger to his lips and indicated that they should stop and listen. But there was only intermittent birdsong and the distant roar of waves crashing against rocks.
When they reached the house, they saw that it was uninhabited, almost derelict. They stood still, looking behind them and then to the side. As they walked warily along the overgrown path to the door, Orestes listened for the sound of dogs or goats, but there was nothing. The door was half rotted, and it swung unsteadily on its hinges when he pushed it in.
Orestes pictured the scene he remembered – the man and his wife, the dogs, the goats, the aura of husbandry and harmony that he and his two companions seemed to have threatened. He wondered how it had ended, if the man and his wife had been frightened by something, or if they had made a slow, rational decision to leave.
Since they had presumed that they would be attacked, that the farmer would set dogs on them at the first sign of their approach, and since they came tense and fully alert, the emptiness they found, the silence, was almost disappointing. For a second, as he caught Leander’s eye, Orestes felt that his companion was also let down by finding nothing here.
Leander motioned to Orestes, suggesting that they move on. He said that they should drop one of their sacks of stones but still carry the other in case they were attacked by dogs along the way.
They walked towards the morning sun. What was strange was that there was no sign of life at all, other than foxes in the undergrowth, some rabbits and hares running away in fright, and the sound of crickets and birdsong. The houses they passed had either been burned down or had fallen into ruin.
Orestes would not have demurred had Leander suggested that they return to the old woman’s house, that their journey so far had been just a useful way to check the terrain. But Leander appeared determined to proceed.
*
‘The only safe way now is to climb,’ Leander said. ‘Soon, if we keep on these paths, we will meet someone. There will have to be streams in the mountains. If we ration what food we have, there is enough for two or three days more.’
‘How far away are we from the palace?’ Orestes asked.
‘It’s hard to say. But I’m sure that this is the best way to go. I can tell the direction by the sun.’
Orestes nodded. He could sense that their time in the house of the old woman already meant little to Leander. It was merely where they had been. He was fully focused now on their journey, and on making it safe for them.
They had been climbing, and, then, having found quail’s eggs and wild fruit, they rested for some hours before setting out again. Leander looked regularly at the sky, but he often seemed unsure which way they should take. Since none of the mountain paths was straight, it was hard to press forward in a single direction.
The palace was on a plain. Thus no matter how much they climbed or descended, they would have to walk two days or maybe even three through flat and inhabited countryside before they reached it. If they could find a habitation, Orestes thought, they could identify themselves and offer some reward to anyone who would accompany them on the rest of their journey, but then they could also be kidnapped again.
As the rocky landscape gave way to soft hills, Leander, having set a trap, managed to catch and kill a rabbit. He had carried with him materials to light a fire, which he did with some difficulty. Although they were hungry, it was hard to eat the meat, which was burned on the outside and almost raw on the inside.
When they started walking again, they came across a flock of sheep and stood for a moment listening.
‘We might be much closer than we think,’ Leander said. ‘Or we might have spent a day going in the wrong direction. We had to follow the valley.’
Since they had found the sheep, Orestes presumed that they would soon come across a village and a cluster of houses, but the landscape appeared more and more bare and desolate, and there was a whistling wind that blew sand into their eyes.
‘Are we coming near the sea?’ Orestes asked.
‘I don’t know, but at least we are safe. The main thing is to be alert. Someone could be watching us even now.’
Orestes looked around, aware of how exposed they were, how the dull colours and the scarce light would make it easy for someone, even a group, to watch and wait without being seen.
All they could do was walk. Orestes did not need Leander to tell him that once the walk was downhill, they would have to reach somewhere sheltered with less wind.
When the wind stopped whistling, it was replaced by mist, which came first in swirls and eddies. Sometimes the sun burned through it and they could see into the distance, but at other times the mist thickened and enveloped them in a dense fog and they had to keep close to each other.
As they made their way forward, Orestes ceased to care about hunger or thirst, he ceased even to feel tiredness. He felt the warmth of Leander’s shoulder when he rested his hand on him and the strength of his will, and this gave him comfort.
Later, as the fog lifted, they could see a thin ridge that was cut through by a fast-flowing stream. They sat down by the stream, cupping the water in their hands to drink.
‘I know where we are,’ Leander said. ‘There is a village half a day away. I came here once with my uncles and cousins. We were hunting. My mother’s family comes from the village. If we can reach it, then we are safe. The house where her brothers live is there. But we have to be careful – there are some houses on the way and I don’t know who lives in them.’
Orestes could feel Leander’s increasing eagerness. Moving quickly now, he seemed even more locked into his own world. It was as though he had already arrived at his destination. All the houses they passed were empty, and when they searched for food they found nothing. The houses were not in ruins but they lo
oked as if they had been abandoned for some time.
‘Leander,’ he said.
‘What?’
‘Is it wise for me to come with you?’
‘Why?’
‘Because of my father or my mother.’
‘I think it’s best for us not to say who you are. We’ll tell them that you are just one of the other boys who was kidnapped.’
This was, Orestes saw, something that Leander had already worked out.
Once they came to the house of his mother’s family, Leander shouted out his own name. As people slowly appeared, they ran towards him and embraced him, repeating his name, with one woman insisting as she began to weep that he had his grandfather’s voice and she would have recognized it anywhere.
Orestes stood apart until one of them noticed him. He was not introduced by name, but was welcomed into the house almost as warmly as Leander. He saw how dignified Leander remained as more and more of his relatives came to greet him.
During the day and night they spent in the house, the family barely spoke to Orestes. It became apparent to him that Leander had told them not to speak freely in the presence of his companion.
When he went to the room they had given him, he expected that he would be joined by Leander. But Leander did not join him. Instead, he came into the room in the morning to wake him and let him know that they would wait until nightfall to leave, as the moon was full enough and it would be safer to move through the countryside by its light.
When they set out, they were accompanied first by two of Leander’s uncles, who left them at a crossroads. Once they were alone, Orestes ventured to ask Leander if he had learned what had happened while they had been away.
‘Things are bad,’ Leander said.
‘Where?’
‘In my house,’ Leander said.
He did not explain further.
‘We must go to my house first, both of us,’ Leander said eventually.
‘Why?’
