The King Must Die Page 17

  She had meant me greater harm than men I had given to kites upon the field, and gladly stripped of their spoil. Yet her ruin smote me, more than when the torch is set to some great hall of kings, with pictured walls and painted columns and hangings woven on the loom, and the flames rise up to the colored rafters, and the roof falls in with a roar. I remembered the morning sky in the high window, her laughter by the midnight lamp, and her proud walking under the fringed sunshade.

  I said to her, “We are in the hand of moira, from the day we are born. You did as you must, and so did I.”

  She tossed upon the litter, and felt her throat. Then she said hoarsely, but loud enough to be heard (for she was an Eleusinian), “My curse failed. You came with the omens. Yet I am guardian of the Mystery. What could I do?”

  I said, “A hard choice was laid on you.”

  She said, “I chose wrong. She has turned her face away.”

  “Truly,” I said, “her ways are dark. But it was ill done to set my father’s hand to my death.”

  She half rose on one arm, and cried, “A father is nothing! A man is nothing! It was to punish your pride.” Then she fell back, and one of the women held a wine-flask to her mouth.

  She drank, and closed her eyes, and rested; I set my hand on hers, and found it damp and cold. She said, “I felt a new thing at the gates. Kerkyon before you presumed too much. Even my brother … Then a Hellene came. The myrtle grove shall hatch the cuckoo’s chick. … Are you even nineteen, as you said you were?”

  I answered, “No. But I was bred in a house of kings.”

  She said, “I crossed her will, and she treads me in the dust.”

  “It is time and change,” I said. “Only the happy gods are free of them.”

  She turned upon the litter, for because of the poison she could not be quiet. The eldest of her children, a dark girl of eight or nine years, slipped through the guard and ran to her weeping, and taking hold of her asked if it was true she was going to die. She made herself still and stroked the child and said she would soon be better, and made the women take her away. Then she said, “Put me on a fast ship with my children, and let me go to Corinth. I have kindred there to care for them. I want to die on the Sacred Mountain, if I can get so far.”

  I gave her leave. Then I said to her, “Though I shall change the sacrifice, I will never root out the Mother’s worship here. We are all her children.”

  She had closed her eyes, but now she opened them. “Children and men want everything for nothing. Life will have death, and you will not change it.”

  They picked the litter up, and began to bear it away, but I put my hand out to stay them. Bending down, I said, “Tell me before you go: are you with child to me?” She turned her head and answered, “I took the medicine. He was only a finger long, but you could see he was a man. So I did right. There is a curse upon your son.”

  I signed to the bearers, and they carried her toward the ships. To the women behind I said, “Take her her jewels, and anything else she asks for.” They began to run about all in confusion, in their black robes, their solemn mourning forgotten; it was like an ants’ nest when the spade cuts it through, for there was no precedent. On the slopes around, the women of the city were talking like starlings. It is the custom of the Shore People for all the girls and women to be in love with the King, who is for ever young since when one goes there is another. So now they did not know what to think.

  I was looking after the litter, when a tall gray-haired woman with a big gold necklace walked up to me, freely as Minyan women do to men, and said, “She has fooled you, boy. She will not die. If you want her life, you had better go after her.” I did not ask why she hated the Queen, but only said, “Death was in her face, if I ever saw it.” The woman said, “Oh, I daresay she is sick. But she took broth of snakeshead in her youth, and was bitten by young serpents, to make her venom-proof. It is the custom of the sanctuary. She will be in pain a few hours more; then she will sit up and laugh at you.” I shook my head. “We had best leave that to the Goddess; it’s ill meddling between mistress and handmaid.”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “You will need a new Priestess. My daughter is of the Kin, and a girl to please any man. Look, there she is.”

  I raised my brows at her. I could have laughed aloud, seeing the pale biddable girl, and the mother all ready to rule Eleusis. I turned from her toward the Queen’s women, still running and scolding up and down the stairs. But one, less busy, stood by the rock-cleft, taking a last look at it. It was she who had lain there on the wedding night, weeping the dead King.

  I went up and took her wrist and led her out, while she hung back in fear, remembering, I suppose, how she had hated me, and had let me see it. “Here is your Priestess,” I said to the people. “One who does not rejoice in slain men’s blood. I shall not lie with her; only a god’s seed can quicken the corn. But she shall offer sacrifice, and take omens, and be nearest to the Goddess.” And I said to her, “Do you agree?” She stared at me confused; then said like a child, because surprise had made her simple, “Yes. But I will never curse anyone; even you.” It made me smile. Yet, ever since it has been the custom.

  Later that day I appointed my chief men, from those who had been resolute in defying the women. Some of these would have had me put down women from every office in the land. Though I tended myself to extremes as young men do, yet I did not like this; it would bring them all together to work women’s magic in the dark. One or two, who had pleased my eye, I should have been glad to see about me. Only I had not forgotten Medea, who had fooled a man as wise as my father was. And there were the old grandmothers, who had run a household for fifty years, and had more sense than many a warrior with his mind only on his standing; but besides their magic, they had too many kindred, and would have managed the men. So I thought again about what I had seen in Eleusis of women’s rule, and chose from those sour ones who took their pleasure in putting the others down. And these did more than the men to keep their sisters from rising up again. A few years later, the women of Eleusis came begging me to appoint men in their stead. Thus I was able to make a favor of it.

  On the second night after I took the kingdom, I gave a great feast to the chief men of Eleusis, in the royal Hall. The meat I provided from my booty of the war; and there was plenty too to drink. The men rejoiced at having snatched their freedom, and toasted the good days ahead. As for me, victory is sweet on the tongue, and to lead men, and be no one’s dog. And yet, the feast lacked something; without the women it seemed a rough, up-country thing. Men drank themselves stupid, and threw bones about, and made fools of themselves boasting of what they could do in bed, as they would never have dared if the women had been there to laugh at them. It was more like being on campaign than feasting in a king’s hall, which is why I have never made a custom of it. But that night it served my turn.

  I called for the harper; and he sang, of course, of the Isthmus war. He had had time to work it up, and made a rousing thing of it. They were full already of themselves and of good wine; by the time they were full of the song too, they were spoiling for battle. So then I told them of the Pallantids.

  “I have news,” I said, “that they are planning war. Once let them hold the Citadel of Athens, and no one will be safe between there and the Isthmus. They will rend the Attic plain like wolves on a dead horse; and those who are left hungry will look to us. That horde, if it gets through to Eleusis, will not leave an ear standing, a sheep running, a jar unbroken, or a girl unravished. Lucky for us if we can fight them across the Attic fields, and not our own. They have great spoil in their house on Sounion Head, and I will go surety you get fair shares. Then, after the victory, you will hear men say in Athens, ‘These Eleusinians are warriors. We were fools if we ever thought of them lightly. If we can get men like that for hearth-friends and kindred, it will be the best piece of work we ever did.’”

  Next morning, at the Assembly, I spoke better. But no one will ever be found to say so. They were so dr
unk, and so big-headed with having mastered the women, that they could not have been more pleased with this speech if Apollo and Ares Enyalios had made it up between them.

  So, when two days later my father sent word that there was smoke upon Hymettos, I sent for the Palace scribe, and made him write, and sealed it with the royal ring. The letter said, “Aigeus son of Pandion, from Theseus at Eleusis. Honored Father, the gods all bless you with long life. I am coming to the war, and bringing my people. We shall be a thousand men.”

  3

  THE WAR IN ATTICA lasted nearly a month. It was the longest war since the time of Pandion my father’s father. As all men know, we scoured the Pallantids off the land. We took South Attica, pulled down their stronghold on Sounion Head, and raised the high altar to Poseidon there, which is seen from ships at sea. And we took the Silver Hill hard by it, with the slaves who worked the mine, and fifty great ingots of smelted silver. So the kingdom was doubled, and the plunder very rich. The men of Eleusis went home as well-found as the men of Athens, with cattle and women and weapons and everything we took. I had cause for pride in my father’s bounty. It was true, as Medea had said, that he had a name for being close-fisted; but he had always had the next war to think of. I can testify before anyone that he opened wide his hand to me.

  We lived well that winter, for we had got in our crops before the war, and taken Pallas’ too. All the feasts were richly kept. When there was a festival in Athens, the Eleusinians came to see, and turn about; there were many hearth-friendships made, and many marriages. Because I had brought the kingdom safety and wealth, they thought in Eleusis that the Goddess favored me; and with my father’s counsel to help, I began to get things in order. Sometimes I went my own way, because I knew the people better. But I never told him so.

  I spent a good deal of time with him in Athens, and listened when he gave judgment. It made me feel for him; for the Athenians were very quarrelsome. Time out of mind, the Citadel had never fallen; but the plain had been overrun in old days by all sorts of people, Shore Folk at one time and Hellenes at another, so that Attica was as mixed as Eleusis, yet had never blended. You got patches of people under chiefs like petty kings, who had not only their own customs, which was natural, but their own laws, so that neighbors could never agree on what was just. As you may suppose, blood-feuds were nearly as common as marriages, and no feast ever went by without someone being killed, that being a time when enemies waited for their man to show himself. When they had got themselves to the edge of a clan war, they might come at last to my father to judge between them, with a tale twenty years long. No wonder, I thought, his face was lined and his hand unsteady.

  It seemed to me he would wear himself out before his time. I don’t know why, seeing he was a wise man and had kept the kingdom all those years; but I felt dangers threatened him everywhere, and that if any ill befell his life, the blame would be mine for not taking better care of him.

  One evening, when he had come from the judgment hall dead tired, I said to him, “Father, all these people came to the land of their own will; they all own you as High King. Can’t they learn they are more Athenians than Phlyans and Acharnians and so on? I reckon the war lasted near twice as long as it should, because of their bickering.”

  He said, “But they are fond of their customs. If I take any away, they will think their rivals are being favored, and then they will help my enemies. Attica is not Eleusis.”

  “I know it, sir,” I said, and fell to thinking. I had gone up to his room to drink a posset by the fire. The white boarhound nudged my hand; he always begged for the lees to lick.

  Presently I said, “Have you ever thought, sir, of calling all the men of good blood together? Some things they must all want: to hold their lands, keep order, get in their tithes. In council, they might agree on a few laws for their common good. The craftsmen too, they all want a fair price for their labor, not to be beaten down to what the hungriest man will take; the farmers must need some working rule about boundaries and straying stock, and the use of the high pastures. If these three estates would each agree on some laws for their own sort, it would draw them together and break the pull of the clans. Then, if chief disputed with chief, or craftsman with craftsman, they would come to Athens. And in time there would be one law.”

  He shook his head. “No, no, there would be two causes of strife where there was one before,” and sighed, for he was weary. “It is well thought of, my son; but it is too much against custom.”

  “Well, sir,” I said, “just now they are well shaken up, with all these new southlands joined to the kingdom. They might take it better now than ten years hence. In summer, there is the feast of the Goddess, whom they all worship under one name or another. We could have some victory games, and make a new custom of it, and they would come together for that. Thus you would have them ready.”

  “No!” he said. “Let us have rejoicing for once instead of blood.” His voice had sharpened, and I reproached myself for troubling him when he was tired. Yet all the while there was a beating in my head, like a caged bird’s, which said to me, “A lucky time is being wasted, a great chance let go by; when my day comes, I shall have to pay for it.” But I said nothing of this to my father; for he had been good to me, and rewarded my men, and done me honor.

  There was a girl in his household, a prize he got in the war, dark-haired and high-colored, with bright blue eyes. She had belonged to one of the sons of Pallas, in the house at Sounion. Seeing her among the captives, I had had half a mind to her, and had meant to pick her out when the spoil was shared. I had never thought of my father choosing a woman. He saw this girl and chose her before anything else. Now Medea had gone, there was no one about him fit for a king’s bed; but when it happened, being young and foolish I was surprised, and even somewhat shocked, as if I could have expected him to choose a woman of fifty. Of course I put such thoughts aside. I had my Isthmus girl Philona, a good enough girl and indeed worth ten of the other, who proved a baggage, always with one eye for a man. I did not care to warn my father. One day, I remember, on the terrace, she came hurrying out of a side door and ran right into me. She begged my pardon; and leaned so hard on me that she might as well have been naked. Her shamelessness filled me with anger. I threw her off (she would have fallen, if she had not struck the wall) then dragged her to the parapet, and held her half over. “Look well, Bitch-Eyes,” I said. “That’s where you’ll go, if I ever catch you playing my father false, or doing him harm.” She crept away frightened, and was more modest after. So I had no need to trouble my father with it.

  Between Athens and Eleusis, and riding about Attica to bring order after the war, winter passed and the snow-streams ran down the mountains. In the wet banks you could smell violets hidden. Young deer came after the green crops; when I went hunting them, I urged my father to come too, and get the good air; he never went out enough. We were on the foot slopes of Lykabettos, and had ridden up through the pines to where it gets stony, when his horse stumbled, and threw him on a rock. A clod of a huntsman had set up a net there, and gone away and left it. Up he ran excusing himself, as if he had cracked a kitchen pot, instead of nearly killing the King. I got up from helping my father, who was badly bruised, and knocked three or four teeth down the fool’s throat, to make him remember. I told him he had got off lightly.

  One day my father said to me, “Soon ships will be taking the sea again, and women can make journeys. What if I send for your mother? She will like to see you; and it would be good to look on her face again.”

  I saw him watch how I took it; and guessed he was not speaking all his thought, because he was a careful man. He had it in mind to make her Queen of Athens; and for my sake, too; for she had been younger than I when last he saw her. “For sure,” I thought, “when he sets eyes on her, he will want to take her to bed again. Except when she is sick or tired, her skin is like a girl’s still, and she has not one gray hair. And this is what I have so long wished for, to see her honored in my father’s h
ouse.” I remembered how when I was a child I had looked at her in her bath, or wearing her jewels, and thought that only a god was worthy to embrace her.

  I said, “She could not leave till the House Snake wakes with his new skin, and she has made the spring sacrifice and received the offerings. She has a great deal of business then. After that she will come.” So he put off sending, because it was too early.

  I remember a fright my father gave me about this time. There is a corner of the upper terrace straight over the rock-face. When you look down, the houses below are as small as if children had pinched them out of clay, and the dogs sunning on the roofs no bigger than beetles. There is a prospect over half the kingdom, right out to the mountains. One day I saw my father leaning there, and right beside him a great crack in the stone balustrade. It shocked me so much that I stopped breathing. Then I ran and pulled him back. He looked at me startled, for he had not seen me coming; when I showed him his danger, he made light of it, and said the crack had been always there. So I sent for the mason myself to mend it, in case he forgot. Even afterwards, to see him stand there made me uneasy.

  My father liked to have me often in Athens, to sit with him in Hall or go among the people. I had nothing against it, except that it took me from Eleusis, where I could do things my own way. In Athens I looked on, and sometimes saw people I doubted put too high, or people put too low who were able for more, or things done with trouble that might have been made easy. My father had had too many cares to see to it, and now had grown used to things as they were. If I said anything he would smile, and say that young men would always build the walls of Babylon in a day.