‘What are you thinking of?’
I sighed deeply. I didn’t turn my head, but I knew what his face would look like as he sat down next to me. His eyes would be squinting against the slanting light, but he wouldn’t shade them with his hand. He was no more than a peasant to my mother and her lover, but he was my friend – the only friend I had, the only friend I needed. The only person who had ever told me the truth about my family.
I knew that he wished we would sometimes talk of other things. I wished that I could think about anything other than my anger. Sometimes I could hear myself as though I were outside my body, and I winced at the harsh drone of my own voice. But still the tirades came, strangling in my throat like a knot of vines that twisted and writhed until they were free. I was grateful that Georgios would always be there to listen.
‘I’m thinking that if my father was here, he would skewer Aegisthus like he should have done twenty-five years ago,’ I said.
‘Your father was kind,’ Georgios said, echoing again what we had said so many times over. He frowned. ‘My father always says how much better things were when Agamemnon was king. Aegisthus knows nothing about running a kingdom, and the men he’s brought in – they’re rough and greedy, or else useless workers. It’s not the way it was, not any more.’
If only I’d had the good fortune to be born a son, rather than a daughter. The curse that sank its roots deep within Mycenae; I could slice clean through it myself. Cut out the diseased branch of our family tree, leaving us pure and healthy at last. But I had grown up in the shade; unseen and unnoticed instead of shining brightly the way that he’d hoped I would, and all I could do was wait for my father to come home again.
‘Is there any news from Troy?’ I asked. We received official messages from heralds of battles fought and men lost, but I knew that among the workers, peasants and slaves, where tongues were looser, more precious nuggets of information could be found.
Georgios sighed. ‘None that will please you, Elektra,’ he said.
‘What?’ I could feel my mouth drying as I spoke. I couldn’t believe that there would ever be the news I dreaded; it could not be that Agamemnon would fail . . . but still, my weak heart feared it.
Georgios’ brows drew together as he spoke. ‘I heard that Achilles doesn’t fight for the Greeks any more,’ he said.
I breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Is that all?’
‘It is enough.’
‘Achilles is one man,’ I answered. ‘His Myrmidons are a fraction of the army. There are many other fighters.’ Ajax, a towering mountain of a man. Odysseus, wily and strategic. My father, at the head of them all.
‘Troy won’t fall whilst Hector lives,’ Georgios said. ‘And no one is a match for Hector except Achilles.’
I sucked in my breath; cast him a look of withering reproof. I let a moment pass, bit back my retort. ‘And why has this great fighter deserted the Greeks?’ I asked tightly.
‘He quarrels with your father. King Agamemnon has taken his prize, a slave-girl won by Achilles.’
I shrugged. ‘All prizes won in war belong to the king, and he distributes them as he sees fit.’
‘Well, this girl – Briseis – Achilles didn’t want to let her go. He is insulted and will not fight unless she is restored to him.’ His tone darkened. ‘The Greeks have suffered a run of defeats. They are struggling, Elektra.’
I shook my head. ‘The tide of war turns often. So many times we have heard that Troy is poised on the brink of falling; then that the Greeks have been driven back and rallied once more. In the end, my father will prevail.’
‘Should I go?’ The sudden intent in his voice surprised me.
‘Go where?’
‘To Troy. I could go and fight. I’m old enough.’
‘How would you even get there?’ I jumped to my feet. ‘The journey there would be long and dangerous. Why would you attempt it?’
He stood up too, and put his hand on my shoulder. I didn’t want to look at his open, honest face. I’d imagined the Trojan battlefield so many times. It was enough to torture myself every day with the ways in which a Trojan sword or spear could pierce my father’s body; I couldn’t bear to think of Georgios in the heart of the fray as well. ‘Your father needs men, Elektra. I’m strong enough. I could be there, helping to win the war. So that he can come home to you.’
Tears prickled my eyes. ‘No.’
‘Why not?’