Electra (13 page)

'It's Asme,' said Cassandra, sniffing at a spray of flat green leaves on a reddish stem.

'It's Percicarion,' insisted Diomenes.

'Well, what use is it?' asked Eumides.

'If it had been dried in the sun, it would be useful for toothache; and made into a decoction, it kills intestinal worms,' said Diomenes.

'And if you rub it on a saddle gall it will keep away the blowflies,' said Cassandra. 'But this has been desiccated in an oven and is quite useless.'

'We agree on that,' said Taphis. 'Who sent it?'

The bald, worried clerk consulted a clay tablet and said, 'Archis of Thrace.'

'He usually deals better than this with me. Perhaps he just hoped I wouldn't notice. How much did we pay?'

'For the whole cargo, Master, seven Corinth ship coins.'

'Well, well, that isn't too much, provided that there is something we can use,' said Taphis, rumpling his thinning hair. 'That Hermes' leaf looks better. What do my guests think?'

'Dried in the shade, as the Mentha should be,' said Cassandra, breaking off a leaf, crumbling it, and licking up a little from the palm of her hand.

'Still green,' commented Diomenes with approval. 'For bruises and dropsy.'

'Only if steeped in wine,' said Cassandra. 'Made into a decoction with spring water, it's good for the ague and marsh fevers.'

'Being cold in the third degree,' agreed Diomenes, bowing. 'As the most learned healer says.'

Cassandra returned the salute, as though she was a man. Then they caught sight of me and stopped smiling.

'Ah, the Lady Electra,' said Diomenes. 'How did you sleep?'

'Well, thank you.'

'Will you join us?' asked Cassandra, shifting on the bench to make room for me. I was not going to make a spectacle of myself, sitting down with her and her clients.

'Have you seen Orestes?' I asked.

'He is in the kitchen, I think.' Eumides did not like me, and I did not like him. He was too solid, too strong, for my comfort. His hair curled too freely, his body sweated and smelt like, like… I could not complete the thought.

I walked through the main courtyard, hearing the conversation go on without a break, as though I had never been there.

'Crane's bill,' said Diomenes. 'For fluxes and internal bleeding.'

'Dove's claw,' insisted Cassandra, 'for inward wounds and haemorrhages.'

'Barrakion,' he said, slicing open a wrapped bale of stinking yellow flowers.

'Frog's foot,' she answered. Since Barrakion means a frog's foot in Achaean, they had agreed on a name at last, and I went out on a wave of their laughter.

Orestes was not in the kitchen. Three slaves said that he had been there but had gone out into the city, alone, and not one of them had thought to stop him. I ran back into the courtyard, interrupting a discussion about something called colt's hoof (or, as Diomenes insisted, lung-leaf).

'Orestes - he's gone out into Corinth on his own!' I cried. They seemed unimpressed.

'He's ten, Lady,' said Eumides. 'He'll be all right. He's probably gone down to the harbour, all the boys of the city play there. Can he swim?'

'No, why should he be able to swim?' I was suddenly frantic with fear. Cassandra was watching me narrowly.

'It's all right,' she said. 'Eumides is going to visit his old friends on the waterfront. He'll find Orestes and bring him home.'

'It's time I was going,' said the sailor, responding to Cassandra's nudge. 'I can't add any profound knowledge to this feast of herbal wisdom, anyway.'

He kissed first Cassandra and then Diomenes Chryse on the mouth, as though farewelling a spouse. Then he threw his new, flame-red cloak around his shoulders and said, 'I'll find him, Lady. Don't fret.'

I climbed the stairs to the women's quarters, sat on the bench which commanded a view of the street, and worried.

After a day spent agreeably, arguing about the properties of Taphis' shipment of herbs, Chryse and I took our supper with the herbalist and his spouse. I gathered from the Lady Electra, still sulking upstairs, that it was unusual for husband and wife to eat together in Achaea. No wonder they had such difficulties in being friends, these men and women. Eating at the one table has always been a pact of peace - at least for the duration of the meal - and a primary method for getting to know another person. This separation of the sexes meant that there were no shared activities. No man relied on a woman, or woman on a man, to help or guide in any task.

As I took another helping of fish I remembered the best weaponsmith in Troy, working together with her husband at the forge making helmets. 'Bronze needs love,' she had declared to me through the steam of quenched metal, hefting her hammer. 'Silver needs care and gold needs attention, but to make good bronze you must have love.' Her big grimy husband had grinned and agreed. I recalled the Egyptian weavers, husband and wife, working at the same loom, passing the shuttle from left to right across the wide weft, as they made 'woven air', the best gauze, both sets of hands working with unthinking speed and grace.

And with Chryse as my fellow healer, I could battle a plague, tend the wounded of an army. There was a saying in Troy which applied to all trades. 'Bare is the back that is comradeless.'

In Achaea all backs were bare and I did not like the thought. Without that fellowship, there could be no friendship between men and women, only the stud relationship of dam and sire. The only free Argive women seemed to be priestesses and whores.

However, Gythia was highly respectable and she and her husband appeared to be friends, in a way. He condescended to her and she always deferred to him, but she clearly had a strong will and a lot of business sense and she always got her way.

'Achis sent two bales of herbs which cannot be used,' he said loudly. 'We will not trade with him again.'

'It shall be as you say, Lord, but he did send fifteen bales which were in excellent condition, and the shipment only cost seven trading coins,' she said quietly.

'A package of Ares' root which was half furze, and a bundle of Percicarion fit only for kindling,' he puffed. She ordered his wine glass filled with an unobtrusive flick of her finger, and said sweetly, 'And the best Barrakion we have seen for three seasons and some very clean iris corms. Come, husband, I think you can forgive the Thracian. He has served you well in the past and it is not fitting for so important a merchant as yourself to take offence over a trifle.'

Taphis immediately began to thaw.

'And you can send a stern reproof to him by the shipmaster,' continued Gythia, offering him a plate of olives. 'What do you think of these? I had them from a trader just up from the Argolid, and I am wondering if they are good. You know how I value your opinion, my Lord.'

Taphis' complacency increased as he absorbed this shameless, skilful mixture of praise and advice, poured upon his head like the best virgin oil from a great height. I shut my mouth and refrained from comment. If this was the way to rule a household in the Argolid, I could not see myself ever managing it. Between complete subjection and this honeyed persuasion, I might almost have chosen subjection. But Gythia was important and had position amongst the women of Corinth, and she had made the best of her life.

I did not despise her, but I resolved that her fate would not be mine.

We were just reaching the end of an excellent meal when Eumides returned. We heard him returning.

Two voices, one alto and one bass, were raised in an extremely indelicate Trojan sailor's song, the chorus of which went
drink, drink, drink
, which made it easier to remember if the singer was inebriated, which these singers definitely were. I hoped that we could get to them before they embarked on the verses, which related to the amorous properties of various races of women all around the sea of Aegeus, and were not fit for any respectable household. We bade our host good night with some celerity. Then Chryse and I hurried into the courtyard and found out who the other voice was.

A small boy was partially supporting our friend, who was elevated and flushed. Orestes was also pinker in the face than I had ever seen him and giggling freely.

'Oh, Gods of all nations, what is the Princess Electra going to say?' muttered Chryse. 'You take Eumides, Lady, and I'll see what I can do about the boy.'

'She's got him back safe, and he isn't hurt,' I objected, accepting the wine-full sailor into my arms. He was very heavy, being almost completely relaxed. I tried to stand him up and he folded at the knees.

'That's not how she is going to see it,' said Diomenes. 'Come along, Orestes, let's get you a clean tunic and wash your face. Someone has spilled wine all over you.'

'Nice boy,' said Eumides owlishly, as Chryse led Orestes away.

'Where did you find him?' I asked, gathering him closer as he tried to slither bonelessly to the floor.

'Sitting on the temple wall looking at the ships. Didn't want to go home. Sad about something. Took him along to a tavern or two and then to Laodamos' house. One of his houses. Can't be sad there. Had Carian wine. Strong. Got to sit down,' said Eumides, and I hauled him into our room and sat him on a bench. He grinned at me, a fine, wide, intoxicated grin.

'Drink some water,' I said, holding the cup for him. He drank obediently, closed his eyes, and fell asleep abruptly, like a baby. I woke him for long enough to get him to the mattress and he slid down, unconscious before he touched the sheepskins.

Chryse came back after half an hour. 'I washed the boy and gave him back to his sister. She was so glad to see him she didn't scold him. But Eumides is likely to have his ear chewed.'

'By then he'll feel so awful that it won't matter,' I said. We looked at our friend. He was sleeping on his back, perfectly relaxed, breathing wine fumes into the warm air, with a smile on his lips.

Chryse and I stripped and lay down together. We had been too tired the previous night to notice our desire. Argive and Trojan, we had much to teach, and much to learn.

He was naked, lying on his back, and I began by kissing him, as I and the maidens had done when we lay together in the palace of the king and wondered about the love of men. I tasted his skin, herbs and honey, as I mouthed down his chest to the thighs and felt the tendons tighten. His hands stroked my hair as I found the phallus, left it and buried my face in his belly, then slid up his body again and found his mouth.

He tasted sweet and dangerous, aroused and breathing hard. I took his hand and laid his fingers to the object which the Trojans call the Goddess' pearl.

'What is there?' he asked into my neck.

'The pearl,' I said, catching my breath. 'Stroke it gently and feel my pleasure.'

He lay with his cheek on my stomach and I felt a circular, fiery touch which made me shiver. His fingers were sensitive and he learned very quickly, gauging my reaction, listening for the gasp. I shuddered into a climax and held out my arms, and he moved inside me as the muscles flexed and pulsed.

'Cassandra,' he whispered, as I locked my thighs around him, my hands on his buttocks, thrusting him deeper into my body, which bloomed around the phallus like a flower. We fitted together as though we had been forged in the same fire.

He lowered his head, almost sobbing with desire. His face in the pale light was bronze and gold, his hair falling to my breasts, each movement bringing my wave closer to breaking. His grey eyes closed, every muscle tensed, and I sucked in seed, the gift of the sky to the field, the earth to the sea.

Morning was announced by a green-faced blur transiting like a comet to the bathroom. Eumides emerged some painful moments later and sank down into our bed again, squinting as though he was unable to focus.

'You've been loving while I've been sleeping,' he said accusingly, sighting the red mark of a bite on Chryse's throat and a matching one on mine.

'You've been sleeping so deep we couldn't wake you to join our loving,' Chryse pointed out soothingly.

'I want only to die,' said Eumides, lying down with care.

I got up, found my tunic, and called for the slave.'I need some things from your master's stock. Chryse, what do they call Lord's leaf here?'

Chryse frowned. 'I'd use jaundice-herb and mint, and a little honey and mead in a lot of hot water.'

'Sounds suitable.' I was irritated I could not prescribe for Eumides until I learned the Argive names. The slave brought a bunch of familiar leaves, a jug of mead, and honey in a little pot.

'This is Lord's leaf,' I said. 'Cooling and cleansing. Shall I make the infusion?'

'If you please, Healer,' he replied politely, lifting Eumides to a half-sitting position against his shoulder. I recalled the delicacy of his touch and smelt his scent on my hands while I heated the water and made the decoction. As the steam rose, refreshing and medicinal, I felt good.

Troy was gone, I still knew that. But there was nothing fate could do to the past and it was still there, preserved like wheat in tree-resin, in the mineral they called amber, like Electra's eyes. Now was all I had, and all I wanted. Eumides' grumbling, the smell of the morning, the babble of the market outside, the calm voice of Chryse and the sight of his unbound hair brushing his bare shoulder - all things combined to make me happy, who had not thought to be happy again.

Despite his feeble struggles, we got most of the brew down Eumides' protesting throat and left him to recover a little.

'Drink some more water,' ordered Chryse, from the door.

'Leave me. That's right, leave me alone to my demise,' he said bitterly.

'All of us die alone,' said Chryse unexpectedly. Eumides cast him a startled look from a bloodshot eye and forbore from further complaint.

'Cassandra,' said the Asclepius-Priest as we came into the courtyard, 'I am afraid.'

I stopped with my hands on his shoulders, looking into his face. He was pale. 'What are you afraid of?' I said, surprised.

'I am afraid to lose you, lose him. I am suddenly and dreadfully afraid to get close to anyone. I have lost them all; the first woman who loved me, then Chryseis. I can't bear to lose you and Eumides as well.'