was growing cooler as we set out for the next Artemision with an escort of boys, who followed in a silent, dogged group, perhaps to make sure that we cast no more spells on their cursed village. We had been generously supplied with figs, olives, wine and bread. A small price to be rid of such disturbing travellers.
I had gone into the house of mourning. Though I doubted that the man would be much missed, I had a suspicion that widows might fare very badly in Achaea. The woman was doubtless mourning for herself as much as for her husband. I was reinforced in this opinion when I dropped a handful of coins in her lap and the disconsolate face brightened instantly. Thereafter the keening for the dead had a certain theatrical vigour which had been lacking before.
I still had all my golden ornaments to use as currency. Gold would have been of no value in Artemision. One of my Mycenean earrings, figured with golden bees, would have bought the whole place, with change over for a flock of goats and my own weight in barley.
We rode gently along, spitting olive stones over the edge of the path, and came within a few hours to another village almost identical to the previous one.
This time we rode in together. Eumides went first, sword in hand. I followed with arrow on string. Electra and Orestes were next, and Diomenes brought up the rear. He had no weapon and would not carry one, saying that it was against his oath.
I may be cynical in suspecting that word had got to this Artemision before us, but the villagers welcomed us with open arms. Not a glance was cast at Cassandra's unveiled head, and a house was cleared of occupants for us.
Electra
This Artemision was poor. The children were swollen-bellied with hunger and I noticed that some of the roofs showed signs of recent burning. I could count every rib on the elder who staggered up from his bench as we came in.
'Greetings and peace to all here,' said Diomenes, sweeping to the front. 'We are travellers to Corinth and wish to stay the night. I am a healer of Epidavros. Is there disease here?'
'No disease a harvest wouldn't cure,' replied the old man. 'Welcome. Have you any news, travellers?' This was evidently a ritual question. I allowed Eumides to lift Orestes down. He stared at the hungry children, their eyes hollow and wrists like sticks. Orestes had never seen such a thing before; neither had I. Cassandra dismounted and led my horse into the little house, where I could get down decently. The door was open and I could smell cooking, an unpleasant whiff of something bitter.
I asked Cassandra what it was. 'Nettle soup,' she told me. Then she sniffed and added, 'Oh, no. It's Solanos. What did Chryse call it; nightshade? They are preparing poison. Is it true the Argives, in times of famine, kill the women and the girls?'
I recalled my father talking about cities under siege. 'Yes,' I said. 'Each man keeps one woman to fetch his water and bake his bread; the rest go to the temple and drink the draught.'
'By the Goddess, Electra, I don't like Achaea. Even Hecate, Dark Mother, couldn't really approve of Achaea.' Cassandra rubbed both hands over her face.
I could not understand her reaction. No man really needs more than one woman, and most of them would keep a mother or sister, not a wife. New wives could be stolen, or bought, if the village survived. However we felt about it, women were possessions, to be disposed of as the master saw fit. We expected no voice in our fate. Cassandra went back to Diomenes and the elders, striding like a man over the beaten earth. I followed her.
'Troy has fallen,' said Diomenes. 'Agamemnon has returned.'
'That,' he said, looking significantly at the burned roofs, 'we know. We have also heard that Agamemnon is dead. And so have the bandits; they came and took what little we had left, last night. We are preparing to sacrifice to Hades, to Pluton the Rich One. Then we will wait for our last hope.'
Cassandra mixed wine and water for us as we sat down in the square. I wondered that I had lost so much of my mother's training in such a short time. Princess the Lady Electra, daughter of Agamemnon, raised in the strictest propriety, sitting down in public view and drinking wine with unrelated men! I would not have been able to entertain the thought a few days before.
There is nothing to be said for the strictest propriety. There is no safety behind those thick walls and heavy doors. I drank, remembered my mother, and choked down a burning wave of rage and horror.
The old men had accepted a little of our wine. I noticed that they were sipping sparingly and wondered that they did not take more, for we had plenty. We produced bread and shared it, and again they mouthed only a token crumb. And they were hungry. Their faces were carved with deep lines of privation.
'When do the markets begin?' asked Eumides. 'There should be grain soon.'
'Perhaps there will be food to buy in Argos, guest, but we have nothing to exchange. There are enough provisions in the South Village to feed us all, but we have no treasure. The barley failed, and then the rye failed. We have been scavenging for purslane and roots, acorns and pine seeds, and if the next crop does not grow we will be finished. The beasts are starved as we are. Now that the rain has come, we can sow one last crop. But it takes ten men to drag our ploughs, we are so weak.' He said this not in a boasting or a self-pitying tone, but perfectly calmly.
I remembered Father saying, 'The common people are hysterical, volatile, prone to despair.' If this was despair it was very controlled.
Orestes walked over to the nearest child and crouched down on his heels. He broke his lump of bread in half and gave it to the boy. The child stared for a while, his eyes glassy with starvation. Then he ran into the house. I heard a woman begin to cry.
'But we would not fail in hospitality, our sacred duty,' the old man was continuing. 'A goat shall be slaughtered.'
'It shall not,' said Eumides gently. 'We may not eat meat tonight, for we are under blood-guilt until dawn. Put off your sacrifice to the Underworld, men of Artemision. That would not please the Goddess. Instead, send men to the South Village, and buy grain and oil for us, also figs, wine and perhaps honey.'
A wretched mule was brought. It was, however, healthier than its owners, due to its ability to eat grass. Diomenes gave the three men some coins, and they set out, wearily, the mule plodding behind them.
'They are mountain-born, they will not fail and will return by morning,' the old man said. He touched Diomenes' sleeve, 'Lord, will you ask the Lady for us how we will fare?'
'The Lady?'
'Our Lady, the Hunter Artemis. She is travelling with you, like a mortal, for a time, for her own good purposes. She is just as the priests said; tall and proud with golden hair, and a glance to strike fear into men. The Divine Hunter, bent bow in hand; we knew her immediately. We are her faithful people.'
Diomenes hesitated and Eumides said, 'If she wishes to speak, old man, she will speak. But I think that she is pleased with her reception into Artemision.'
Cassandra inclined her head gravely. This was blasphemy and I wondered if I should tell them that she was an escaped slave of my father's. Eumides caught my eye and shot me a warning scowl. I went to find Orestes.
He was in the first house. A woman so thin that her bones thrust against her tight-drawn skin was heating a little milk over a smoking dung fire. As I watched, she poured it into a clay dish, over the crumbled bread which my brother had given to the first child. The woman knelt down to distribute it, spoonful by precious, slow spoonful, to three children. They sat around her, mouths opening like
