Conspiracy of the Islands (The Age of Bronze)

by Diana Gainer

Orésta protested defensively, "I have as much right to stay here as you do, Lawodíka. You were not born to any higher rank than I was."

  The princess burst into derisive laughter. "You listened too much to our father and not often enough to our mother. I am the one who carries the hereditary kingship, not you. That is the custom. It is Diwiyána's law. I am wánasha. There can be no question about that. My promised husband is Puláda and it is he who will rule Argo, not you, little brother."

  With encouragement from Odushéyu, the assembled commoners and warriors had cheered Lawodíka's words. But when she mentioned Puláda, a pall of silence settled over them all. Even the It'ákan shook his head. "Hand over golden Mukénai to a P'ilísta?" Odushéyu demanded. He spat to show his contempt for the northern prince.

  Loud arguments erupted on every side, rising in volume and intensity as the sun reached the end of its daily journey. Only the fall of night prevented war from breaking out before the ashes of the palace cooled.

  As darkness deepened, the populace divided itself into opposing camps, some gathering around Orésta and some around his sister. By the moon's feeble light, men wandered from one hearth to another, from campfire to merchant villa, attempting to influence the outcome. Elders pleaded for calm. Priests and priestesses consulted the gods in the patterns that molten lead took when plunged into cooling water.

  Through it all, Ainyáh sat out the dispute with his men. Like a vulture, as Orésta complained, the beak-nosed Kanaqániyan watched, waiting for the outcome. Though Ainyáh made no threat, his mere presence heightened the tension. Whatever happened in Argo, it was bound to have international repercussions. The kingdom had many enemies who would attack at the first sign of weakness. Even the nation's allies might take such an occasion to reconsider their alliances.

  Pointing out such dangers, Odushéyu urged one and all to forsake the house of Atréyu completely. In the old days, he reminded the people, the elders of a nation held an assembly and elected a new king, on the death of the old one. It was long past time that Argo revived that ancient tradition. And who better for them all to vote for, but Odushéyu himself? He was a wánaks by birth, a southerner, and highly experienced. His military exploits were legend, his wisdom unexcelled in all of Ak'áiwiya. Best of all, he was no kin to the royal family whose sins had attracted the baleful attention of the gods. Such arguments shook loose no small number of Orésta's men.

  Nor should these people accept Lawodíka as their queen, since she was clearly intent on going through with her marriage to Puláda. Even those Argives who opposed Orésta's rule could not accept a northerner as their king, so the princess's claims would also have to be ignored. Odushéyu reminded any who still wavered that it had been P'ilístas who had committed all of the worst atrocities at the famous sack of Tróya. It was Puláda's fellow northerners who had offended the gods ten years before and so brought the drought to Ak'áiwiya, just as the house of Atréyu had failed to end the misery.

  Shortly after dawn, the following morning, prince Puláda himself arrived in Mukénai, surrounded by his Aitolíyan troops. Now it seemed that war would indeed break out. The P'ilísta prince was obviously prepared to fight for Argo's throne and Orésta refused to back down.

  But with the Aitolíyans came Meneláwo and his daughter. The Lakedaimóniyan king rode into Mukénai with 'Ermiyóna beside him in his chariot. The Lakedaimóniyan troops promptly left Orésta's side and turned to their own king, hoping to avoid entanglement in an Argive civil war.

  The king's men were not disappointed. Rather than align himself with one of the contenders for the throne, Meneláwo called an emergency session of Mukénai's elders. Once again, the grave circle held the disputing parties and their supporters. But only native Argives were allowed to take part this time. To this assembly came the two surviving offspring of the former royal family, Orésta and Lawodíka. So, too, came Puláda and Diwoméde, to support them, gathering in the shadow of the fire-blackened palace. "I will preside over this assembly," Meneláwo said, "provided you all agree, but I will not make the decision myself. That is for the elders to do." With quick glances at one another, the assembly gave its consent.

  "In fact," Wipíno stood to point out, "as Agamémnon's brother Meneláwo, too, is a possibility for the post of wánaks." The Lakedaimóniyan king quailed at the thought but did not argue. Encouraged by the cordial reception of this suggestion, the Argive warrior continued, "But Odushéyu here is clearly an outsider. I say he and his friend from Tróya should remain outside the citadel, while the elders meet." To the exile's chagrin, Wipíno's opinion was shared by all the participants.

  Men with age-lightened beards looked at one another with troubled eyes. One stood shakily on thin legs. He took the spear that Meneláwo offered as speaker’s staff and looked the assembly over. "How should we begin?" the old man asked. "As I am the oldest here, it is fitting that I speak first. So I will tell you what we should do. Now, the rest of you may enjoy listening to young people argue, but I have had my fill of it. I say we dispense with the speeches and consult the gods."

  Orésta rose and took the spear to indicate his role as speaker. "What are you saying? That my sister and I should draw lots? What kind of method is that for selecting a king? No, it may be all right for deciding which warrior should be an army's champion in single combat. And it may be acceptable as a means for dividing up the spoils of war. But it is a coward's answer to Argo's needs right now. Make the decision yourselves based on common sense."

  As Orésta argued his own case, he never so much as glanced at Diwoméde. The qasiléyu knew that the prince was disappointed in him for showing too little enthusiasm for his cause. But, still, Diwoméde was content that it should be that way for the time being. He had not been prepared for the physical demands of this adventure. His spear arm throbbed and the constant ache in his battered foot had flared into stabbing pain. He was glad to be out of the discussion, preferring to recline in the shade of the wall, sipping poppy-tinged wine from a goatskin bag.

  "I should be the next wánaks of Argo," Orésta told the old men of the capital city. "I am the only legitimate son of wánaks Agamémnon and wánasha Klutaimnéstra, so I am of royal blood. My promised bride is the princess 'Ermiyóna, the only legitimate daughter of the Lakedaimóniyan royal family. The two royal lines of Argo and Lakedaimón have joined before, so we are close kin already. That makes our marriage auspicious, so there is no need to speak of the will of the gods. How could the deities not approve? 'Ermiyóna is a holy woman, as a wánasha must be, by custom. I am my mother's son and I agree with her belief that we should never forget custom, which is the sacred law of our divine mother, Diwiyána.

  "But I am also my father's son and, like him, I say we must also be practical. In this time of drought and unrest, whatever its cause, a country must have a strong man on the throne, in order to be safe. Give your consent to my kingship and, with 'Ermiyóna beside me, I will rule the two kingdoms of Argo and Lakedaimón."

  Meneláwo rose stiffly and took the speaker's staff from his nephew. "A fine speech," he grunted. "Now let us hear from Lawodíka."

  The princess came to the center of the ring of men, her manner as confident and commanding as her mother's had been, even though her body still had its youthful slenderness. "I should be the wánasha of Argo," she called out strongly, taking the spear that her uncle held out to her. "You all know me and you know that I am right. If I did not exist, if I had died at Tíruns," and here she shot Orésta an angry look, "then my brother's argument would have to prevail. But I am not dead. It is the custom that kingship passes through the female line. We cannot simply ignore a sacred tradition, just because it seems inconvenient. That would surely anger the gods and lead to more disasters."

  Orésta leapt to his feet, shouting, "It was my father's unavenged death that caused the first disasters! I have saved Argo by killing Aígist'o and sating my father's soul with his blood."

  His sister cried, "I hold the speaker's staff! You see, Argives, my bro
ther cannot even follow that little rule. And you should not boast of avenging our father, Orésta, since our mother's blood is on your polluted hands as well."

  Meneláwo came forward, waving his hands to quiet them. "Stop shouting, both of you. This is an assembly. You show disrespect to the elders, behaving this way."

  The oldest Argive stood a second time. With a wry face, he shook his white head. "I said before that I was sick of arguments. Each time someone speaks, we begin to think that one is right. Then the other speaks and we wonder whether that is not really the right one. Enough of this! What Argo needs is a king acceptable to the gods. That is foremost in every man's heart and every woman's as well. Think of your wives and children, my brothers. Never mind tradition and honor and tribal hatred and…whatever epithets you have heard thrown about. I still say we should consult the gods. If drawing lots is unacceptable, then let us consult a seer or priestess."

  "I agree with that suggestion whole-heartedly," Lawodíka announced, her dark eyes shining. "I am a priestess…"

  "So is 'Ermiyóna," Orésta retorted.

  "Ai gar, what nonsense!" the old man scolded. "Only a fool would trust either woman. No, both are obviously biased. I think we should send an embassy to the oracle at 'Elléniya. No other place in Ak'áiwiya is as holy."

  "That may be," Lawodíka fumed, "but the there seeress is Meneláwo's wife. She has had my brother in her household for over ten years now. If I am biased, then so is she."

  "Then send a few men to Put'ó," the old man suggested, with an impatient wave of his arthritic hand.

  The thought alarmed Orésta, remembering Ip'emédeya's thirst for vengeance. "No!" he cried. But he could not give the true reason he opposed that option.

  To Orésta's immense relief, Meneláwo noted quietly, "All Qoyotíya was ravaged in the war with T'eshalíya. Put'ó itself was taken and the servants of the gods all slaughtered."

  "There is Dodóna, in the far north," Diwoméde suggested easily. "Odushéyu mentioned…"

  "By all the gods and goddesses!" Mukénai's oldest citizen snapped. "You might as well suggest we cross the Inner Sea and consult with Apúluno at Tróya's gates. Dodóna and Apúluno have their holy places, to be sure, but they are hardly Ak'áyan deities."

  "It seems we are at an impasse," Meneláwo sighed wearily. "Argives, neither arguments nor oracles can settle this. When kings of several lands come together in wartime, they elect one of their number to be their overlord. I suggest you do the same here. Think about who you wish your king to be and vote." Seeing that the elders looked at one another fearfully, the king added, "I suggest you vote silently, so as not to inflame the loser against you. Look here,, among the piles of refuse. Find a pot shard and mark on it with a pebble. If it is Orésta you choose, mark the triangle that holds the lion emblem over the city gate. If it is Lawodíka you choose, mark the spiral that is the symbol of the goddess."

  "And if we want Meneláwo?" the old man asked.

  The Lakedaimóniyan king shrugged. "A round shield."

  In silence, the elders did as Meneláwo suggested, giving all their tokens to their aged spokesman when they had done. The stooped and balding man inspected each fragment of broken crockery with care before announcing, "Our new wánaks is Meneláwo."

  Accordingly, Meneláwo announced his new role to the people still gathered outside the city gates. He moved quickly in that position to calm the countryside. The queen's death had been violent and, as such, her spirit required special placating rituals. Each of her surviving kinsfolk underwent spiritual purification, bathing at dawn at the holy spring that had been Mukénai's first source of water.

  Klutaimnéstra's funeral was celebrated with all the pomp due a deceased queen. The rock-cut tomb of her first husband was opened, the old bones swept aside, and the queen's body laid to rest, swathed in her most expensive robes. Meneláwo had his sister-in-law decked with all her jewels and accompanied by innumerable golden trinkets. Before the door of the tomb chamber, the dead woman's relatives ate an unusually ample funeral feast, despite the devastation of the flocks wrought by the drought. All of Mukénai's commoners received a share of the meat that was left, after libations of blood had been poured on the earth.

  Meneláwo had the royal priestess, Lawodíka, preside at the slaughter of each animal. She interpreted the patterns made by the intestines when they spilled out on the ground. "Is the wánasha's soul appeased?" Meneláwo asked his niece.

  When the first omen proved negative, Meneláwo had a second sheep killed. Again the entrails prophesied evils and the new king asked for yet another animal. Nine sheep in a row confirmed that the dead woman's intentions were inauspicious and still Meneláwo only asked for another ram.

  At last, Lawodíka understood the message in her uncle's repeated requests. Klutaimnéstra's spirit was content, the princess announced. "But there are other evils awaiting my brother," she added.

  Meneláwo nodded sagely. "Bring a tenth offering, Diwoméde."

  In the guts of the eleventh sheep, Lawodíka gave way again. She saw that Orésta's guilt would not poison the land, after all. "You must make an offering to the family of our father's cousin, for the death of king Aígist'o, a blood-payment to appease them. Then all will be well with you."

  Orésta was visibly relieved at the pronouncement. Without hesitation, he announced loudly, "I swear by 'Estiwáya, patron goddess of every man's hearth, that I will do as my sister advises."

  "What of the larger question?"Meneláwo asked the young priestess. "Do the gods smile on the land of Argo now?"

  "I see nothing but disaster foretold here," she answered, meeting his stolid gaze with fury in her soul.

  "Bring a twelfth offering, Diwoméde," Meneláwo said, fully prepared to continue the process until the next phase of the moon, if need be.

  Lawodíka took far longer than before to complete her examination of this sacrificial animal. Several times, after running her fingers over the tangled entrails, she opened her mouth to speak. Each time, she reconsidered, looking back over the bloody imprints of the gods' will. "I have found the answer to the final question," the princess sighed wearily. "Again, Orésta must make a splendid offering, a blood-payment. But this is to be a far more elaborate qoiná than any ever paid before. It was not the family of the slain that seeks revenge, you see, but the three paramount goddesses of the kingdoms of Ak'áiwiya. Diwiyána and her daughter, the maiden Kórwa have to be appeased this time. Most dreaded of all, Préswa, wánasha of 'Aidé, must receive a blood-payment for the violation of the laws of kinship."

  Meneláwo nodded at his nephew. Warily, the prince agreed. "I swear by 'Estiwáya that I will make the offering."

  "To this sacred threesome, Orésta will have to make a fourfold vow," Lawodíka announced, her voice fuller than before. She would wring a concession out of him yet. "In his lifetime and for all time thereafter, the groves and caves where the goddesses are worshipped will be granted the rights of safe refuge. Any murderer fleeing from the avenging kin of his victim will be granted sanctuary in the holy place of one of those goddesses. No Ak'áyan can touch him there. This is the way it was in my great-grandfather's day and so it must be again.

  "Secondly, my brother is to vow that the ceremony of the first fruits, the festival of spring, will be celebrated in honor of the three divine sisters. The first apple, the first olive, the first grape, and the first sheaf of grain will go to the priests and priestesses of these goddesses, who spin men's fates instead of flax. Gifts of gratitude after childbirth, and gifts presented before wedlock will go to the same deities of fate, and to their earthly servants, as the third part of the vow. Our father let all these ceremonies and honors lapse, in his time on the throne. Even under our grandfather's rule, these ancient practices were not always observed. But all these things Orésta must swear to."

  "I so swear," the prince said. He drew his brows together over his nose, nervously awaiting the final demand.

  "Still, there is one more thing required of Or�
�sta," Lawodíka solemnly intoned. "The three goddesses can be kind and generous to those who honor them, but they can also blast whole clans into nothingness, sweep entire nations down to 'Aidé when they are angered. One last promise must be made to them, to appease the goddesses' fury." With her piercing gaze fastened on her brother's face, Lawodíka declared, "You must swear that no clan may prosper without their grace."

  Orésta almost laughed. He was taken aback. "How can I swear that? Is it in my power to decide which family prospers and which does not?"

  "Swear it!" Lawodíka demanded. Beside her, Meneláwo nodded to his nephew. Orésta swore, by the hearth of his home and then, as his sister required, by the river of Stuks that separates 'Aidé from the land of the living. The princess was satisfied at last and the funeral was completed. The dead woman's brother-in-law and her last two children doled out massive quantities of imported, T'rákiyan wine alongside the blood of the victims. Some of the sour drink they spilled on the earth, but more was given to the ever-thirsty farmers.

  Later, as darkness fell, Orésta and Lawodíka began preparations for their respective weddings, which would take place as soon as the nine days of mourning were over. They and their promised spouses took up temporary lodgings in the homes of the capital's most prosperous merchants. Meneláwo spent much of his time going from one to the other, reassuring his daughter that all would be well, praising Lawodíka's good sense as well as her training in things sacred, counseling the northern prince Puláda to continue to show patience and caution. It was quite dark before he came to the house where his nephew was staying, carrying a torch to light his way.

  "What was all that about?" Orésta asked his uncle. "Why did you want me to swear those ridiculous things?"

  Meneláwo smiled ruefully and explained, "We all know that you cannot determine each clan's prosperity. What your sister means is that you must make a show of worshipping the old gods. You will have to do this all your life. Raise your children so that they will do it just as you did, and pass on the customs to the future. Lawodíka is trying to save the old customs, my boy."