by Diana Gainer
Agamémnon did not reply immediately. "I am tempted," he admitted, stroking his mustache. But, at length, he shook his head, dismissing the idea. "No, it is too risky. Idómeneyu would attack my citadels while I was gone. You may have forgotten the matter of his qasiléyu but, I assure you, he has not."
"No, Idómeneyu has sworn to help me," Meneláwo said quickly.
Agamémnon returned to his throne and thought for a moment longer. But again, he shook his shaggy head. "If he did not attack, someone else would. Erékt'eyu has always resented me for taking his island fortress at Sálami. If I left Argo undefended, Erékt'eyu would march in from the north. I could lose the isthmus. Ai, my whole northern border would be vulnerable. No, I am sorry, Meneláwo, but I cannot help you."
The younger brother pressed on feverishly, "If you cannot send an army, at least give me a few ships and men under one of your qasiléyus. What about Tudéyu in Tíruns? You surely did not send that old war-horse to the north. Let him come with me to Tróya. I could use the advice of an experienced man. Then I might not have to fight for Ariyádna's return, but only bargain. I had forgotten about this, before, but our father was part of a raid on Wilúsiya, many years ago. Several Assúwan women were taken captive, back then, including a princess, Ishqíyanna. She still lives here in Argo, in fact."
Breathless, he stopped speaking, looking from the harsh face of his brother to the more sympathetic face of his sister-in-law. The woman nodded. "So you see, Idómeneyu and Odushéyu have already agreed to go with me," Meneláwo went on, encouraged. "And Néstor promises to send his oldest son. Let Tudéyu come with me as well. That should be enough to make the Assúwans see that most of Ak'áiwiya is now hostile, all the southern kingdoms that matter, at any rate. Wilúsiya's king will begin to worry about his own islands then. Yes, with a decent army like that, we could even attack a few villages on the islands of Lámno and Lázpa, on the way, just as our grandfathers once assaulted Wórdo. Yes, yes, I believe that is the right plan. With the one hand, I will threaten Wilúsiya's outposts. With the other hand, I will offer to exchange their royal woman for my wife. How can they refuse?"
Klutaimnéstra stood with her hands clasped so tightly that the knuckles whitened, to keep from speaking out. She glared malevolently at her husband, mouthing silent prayers and curses.
Agamémnon was clearly tempted. But he cleared his throat, studiously avoiding his wife's deep-set eyes, hesitating. "Tudéyu is dead," he announced at last, his voice tight.
"Ai, yes, I had forgotten," Meneláwo cried, clapping his hands to his thighs. "Who was it that you put in his place? I cannot recall…"
Agamémnon continued, his voice still lower, "His son, Diwoméde, is now my qasiléyu in Tíruns."
Meneláwo nodded unhappily. "Of course, yes, of course."
Beside the Argive king, the queen came to life. "Diwoméde? What is this? You never told me. No, Agamémnon, not that bastard son of yours. I forbid it!" Klutaimnéstra cried, pounding her husband's head and shoulders with maddened fists. "A curse upon him and a curse upon his mother for her infidelity!"
Agamémnon struck out, knocking his wife and queen backward. She fell to the ground with a clatter of ornaments and the rustling of many-layered garments. "Get out of my throne room, woman!" the king cried. "I do as I please here. I am the wánaks of Argo, not you. You cannot forbid me anything I desire."
Weeping with anger, Klutaimnéstra rose to her feet, still flailing at her husband and king. "You son of a dog!" she cried, "You have the heart of a fawn and the lust of a goat! It is my son who should be your qasiléyu, not your bastard."
Agamémnon cursed loudly, one arm raised to ward off blows, the other seeking beside his throne for the arm of a chair, something with which to beat his wife. "To 'Aidé with you, witch!"
Meneláwo pushed his way between the warring couple. His back to his brother, he threw his arms around the frantic wánasha to restrain her. "Klutaimnéstra, calm yourself. Diwoméde is no son of Agamémnon's. He is Tudéyu's boy. Where do you get these ideas? Agamémnon is true to you. Why would he sleep with another man's wife when he has a holy woman from Lakedaimón for his own? It is unthinkable. You are out of your mind. The maináds must have caught you."
"Get her out of here, Meneláwo," Agamémnon roared, pacing up and down before the hearth, waving one fist. "I will lose my temper completely if she goes on with these endless accusations and demands."
The younger king urged his sister-in-law from the room, his arm about her heaving shoulders. They passed into the small anteroom before the mégaron, Meneláwo talking quickly. "Be sensible, Klutaimnéstra. Think about what you are saying. Orésta is Agamémnon's son as much as he is yours. What man would not give the best he has to his own son? But the boy is small, still a child. How old is he now? Ten? He cannot become a qasiléyu. He cannot command troops or rule a fortress. Ai, he is not even old enough to guard his father's sheep, yet. Be patient. Agamémnon will not forget Orésta, you will see. I am sure of it."
Klutaimnéstra's tears dried, but she glared unhappily at her brother-in-law. "Do you know something I do not?" she asked, glancing sideways at him suspiciously. "Does my husband share his plans for his children with you?" When Meneláwo did not answer, only turning his eyes away, she went on, "Do not waste your time with pretty lies. Agamémnon sleeps with other women. He has no less than twenty bastards that I know of and only Diwiyána herself knows how many more. He is not particular about his sleeping partners, never has been. Ai, these are evil times for women, as my poor sister has discovered. It was different in my grandmother's day. Then a woman was respected. A wife had a say in all her husband's affairs. Queens were diplomats as well as priestesses. Now a woman has only as much value as her husband puts on her. I fear it will be worse for my daughters, worse even than for Ariyádna."
Meneláwo winced at the mention of his wife. "Will Agamémnon help me after all, do you think?" he asked, grasping his sister-in-law's arms with trembling hands. "We are brothers, but I hardly know him. We were never close when we were growing up. He was older, our father's favorite. He was a bully even then. But when he was first pledged to you and became the wánaks of Argo, he swore that he would never turn his back on me. Ai, I want to believe he will keep his oath. But now he sends letters to kings all around the Inner Sea and only sent the least of his qasiléyus to my festival. He may not even remember that he took that vow."
Klutaimnéstra straightened her back, sniffing, and smoothed the curls hanging in her face. "Do not worry, Meneláwo. He will help you, even if I have to hound him to the very mouth of 'Aidé. I may not have a man's strength but I am not helpless."
Meneláwo was alarmed at the harshness in his sister-in-law's eyes and voice. He released his grip on her and backed away. "Klutaimnéstra, I want your help. But I do not want to be responsible for the death of my sister-in-law at my brother's hands."
The wánasha of Argo laughed bitterly. With quick, angry movements she adjusted the tight, blue bodice outlining her heavy breasts. "Even he will not go that far. A wife has little enough status these days. But kingship still resides in a woman's body and that woman must be sanctified. If Agamémnon wants to remain wánaks here, he must have a priestess as his wife. He needs me and he knows it, the sack of wine! I will threaten to go back to Lakedaimón if I must. But he will help you in the end. He must. I will not allow him to leave my sister in barbarian hands."
"I hope you can persuade him," Meneláwo said, doubting her.
"Of course you do," the queen responded, frowning contemptuously. "Without Ariyádna you cannot rule Lakedaimón."
"No, it is not that," Meneláwo murmurred, dropping his shadowed eyes. "I am not my brother. I do not care so much about kingship, myself."
"Idé!" Klutaimnéstra snorted in disbelief. "I suppose it is only love that motivates you."
"You must believe me," the Lakedaimóniyan king protested. "It is Ariyádna herself that I want." Uncomfortable under the wánasha's unremitting glare, he added, "Y
ou may be right about my brother. He may sleep with every woman he can. But I am not like that. Ariyádna is the only woman I will ever have."
Klutaimnéstra laughed bitterly. "What a wonder that is," she said, her voice heavy with sarcasm. "Ai, it is true that you want Ariyádna, the source of your kingship. I know that all men are alike." She raised her palms in a gesture of peace to stop Meneláwo's protest before it began. "Still, do not worry," she said. "I will help you, for my sister's sake. We Lakedaimóniyans do not forget the sacred bonds of kinship. I will keep your daughter, too, until Ariyádna comes for her. Now leave, before you anger your brother further. Cross the Inner Sea with what allies you can gather. Go to Wilúsiya and negotiate for Ariyádna's return, just as you said. You may be right about an exchange of royal women."
"I will go," Meneláwo agreed, his head hanging wearily. "But I am no merchant, Klutaimnéstra. Despite what I told Agamémnon, I know very little about barter and bargaining. My kingdom is not wealthy, either, and I do not have much to negotiate with. I am a king in my land. But even the wánaks of Lakedaimón has little enough power across the sea."
Klutaimnéstra looked him up and down with a critical eye. He certainly did not look imposing, though he was only a little shorter and slightly less broad in the shoulders than his brother. The queen pursed her lips. "You are not going alone, remember. You will have that filthy pirate, Odushéyu, with you. I will not be sorry to see him leave Argo. I only tolerate his presence because he married my cousin, Penelópa. Ai, what a poor bargain her parents made for her! Still, Odushéyu has his points when it comes to driving bargains. He has cheated men out of their bronze on every side of the Inner Sea. If he cannot negotiate Ariyádna's freedom, no one can. Take your brother's bastard along, too. Agamémnon will not miss him. Perhaps Diwoméde will die, if it comes to a fight. Then I will be rid of him." She smiled grimly, adding in an undertone, "If the goddess wills it."
Swallowing hard, Meneláwo nodded. "Yes, Odushéyu is with me. He suggested we duplicate the Wilúsiyans' attack, wait for the festival of reaping next spring, and attack at night. But I hate to break the laws of Diwiyána."
Klutaimnéstra eyed her sister's husband suspiciously. "I was not aware that the sons of Atréyu cared for the laws of the goddess. But never mind. You need not commit sacrilege. If the bargaining fails and we must have a war, come back to Ak'áiwiya. But go to Qoyotíya in the north, this time, not to Argo. The harbor at Aúli can hold as many as a thousand ships. What is more, I have cousins beside the Qoyotíyan throne and in Attika who still wield the power of the old ways. With the help of those queens, I will make Agamémnon assemble an army at Aúli, drawn from every kingdom in Ak'áiwiya, north and south. I swear this by the goddess of the hearth, sweet 'Estiwáya." Her royal dignity restored, Klutaimnéstra pulled away from Meneláwo and disappeared into the torch-lit rooms of the women's apartments.
aaa
Klutaimnéstra came upon a tall, thin man with narrow shoulders, standing before a small shrine at the back of one room. Before the man was a low, plaster table with two tall projections at each end. Before the altar a small, painted bowl lay on the floor, filled with white liquid. "Aígist'o," the queen whispered. "Are you alone?"
Aígist'o turned, wrapping his cloak tightly around his thin shoulders. "Yes, wánasha," he answered quietly. "I was just offering milk to the spirits of the ancestors." He gestured toward the terra cotta dish in front of the horned altar. "I have asked them to be merciful and give your sister a better fate."
The queen dismissed that with an impatient wave. "Yes, yes, I know that you are loyal and concerned. Just listen to what I have learned tonight. It seems we may have an opportunity to remove Agamémnon from the throne, after all."
Aígist'o gasped, "He is going with the expedition to the north?"
Klutaimnéstra shook her head with a grim smile. "No, it is even better than that. He will lead a campaign of all Ak'áiwiya against Assúwa."
"What? He plans to take on the whole, great Náshiyan empire over your sister's abduction? Have the maináds caught him?" Aígist'o could not believe it, though the woman before him nodded. "But he will surely be defeated."
Klutaimnéstra nodded again. Her painted lips thinned in a smile. "Then the commoners will drive him out of Argo so that his evil fate will not poison the land."
The thin man clapped his hands to his thighs. "If Diwiyána wills it, Agamémnon might even die in Assúwa and save us a good deal of trouble."
"What is more," Klutaimnéstra continued, raising an eyebrow, "every Ak'áyan wánaks and qasiléyu who returns empty-handed will suffer the same fate. I must write to my fellow queens at once so that they can pressure their husbands into going. The wánaktes can be expected to resist, since the Náshiyan empire is so powerful. But they will have to go in the end. No man can withstand his wife's urging when she tells him his honor is at stake. They are all exquisitely sensitive on the matter of areté."
"This is wonderful news," Aígist'o exclaimed, taking the plump queen in his arms. "I had begun to question whether I had done the right thing in becoming a priest. But now I see that it was the goddess herself who led me to it. Ai, my queen, my love, our prayers and offerings have been rewarded."
The wánasha pushed him away. "Do not be so quick to assume that all will go well. Meneláwo spoke of the need for a quick campaign. He said that was how Atréyu got away with his Assúwan raids years ago. If that is correct, there is still a danger that we will fail. We must find a way to delay the expedition as long as possible, to give the Náshiyan army time to reach Wilúsiya."
"That is a simple matter, easily dealt with," Aígist'o said, wrapping his arms around Klutaimnéstra again. "No army will make a move until they see an omen that the gods favor them. I know a seer who can be relied on to find the right signs." The wánasha of Argo put her hands on Aígist'o's cheeks and pressed his mouth down against hers.
aaa
In the distant, shadowy rooms of another palace, Ariyádna stared blankly at unfamiliar walls. "Where are my gazelles?" she asked dully, touching the painted plaster. Beneath her fingertips, painted, red horses drew a yellow chariot outlined in charcoal black. "What place have I come to?" Ariyádna whispered, rubbing at tear-swollen eyes. "What kind of gods rule here?"
Behind her Kluména huddled on the tile floor, weeping and scraping her cheeks with her fingernails. "Come, sit down, wánasha," Kluména begged. "Do not talk like that. You frighten me. I have told you where we are. This is the country of Wilúsiya, the land of horse-breeders. Owái, the maináds have caught you."
To the women's ears came low, thundering sounds, men's voices raised in anger in another room. "Is that your thunderbolt, Díwo?" Ariyádna whispered. "Or is it the roaring of your river Stuks, lady Préswa? Am I in the land of the dead, in the kingdom of 'Aidé?" Shuddering, she sank down and cowered against the wall. "It is the end of the world, as the prophecy said."
Kluména crawled to Ariyádna's side. Putting her bruised arms around her queen, the former nursemaid wept into Ariyádna's tangled hair. "Owái, I would rather be with Préswa in 'Aidé than in this place."
"Do not cry, t'ugátriyon," Ariyádna whispered absently. She patted the other woman's arm, saying, "I will have Kluména bring the kukeyón…."
aaa
In the mégaron down the corridor from the women's chambers, the high-born men of Wilúsiya argued furiously. Dressed in woolen tunics with embroidered hems, they strode about the great room in shoes of soft leather with upturned toes. "I have accomplished a great deed," Paqúr announced to the men seated around the central hearth, his face flushed. "I have taken a Lakedaimóniyan royal woman captive and avenged the rape of my aunt. Our grandfathers used to sing of when they came from steep Wilúsiya. One day, our grandsons will sing that epic again, but it will be Paqúr's men whose deeds inspire the verses."
"Do not boast so soon, prince Paqúr. I am afraid you have brought ruin upon the whole land of Wilúsiya," cried an older man beside him at the rai
sed hearth. "Your aunt is my kin too, the aunt of my wife, Laqíqepa. But the lady Ishqíyanna was carried off to Lakedaimón a generation ago. The Ak'áyans will not see your act as revenge but as the provocation for a new round of raids and counter-raids. This will inevitably mean the taking of still more Assúwan captives."
"Antánor, you may be my brother-in-law, but you are a coward," Paqúr shouted, pushing the other man away from the hearth. "I have taken this foreign woman and she is my property, my wife. She will remain so until another man takes her from me by force of arms. That is the custom of men with honor."
