There is no one in the palace who cares what I do or where I am. I know that Aegisthus has sent men out to search for my brother. It is the only time when Clytemnestra’s facade cracks; the anxiety flares briefly in her eyes when they return empty-handed. I wonder if she is more afraid that they will find him or that he will remain missing. I think I see relief on her face when they report, again, no news. But whilst they may fear what Agamemnon’s son might do, I think everyone has forgotten that I am here at all. Still, I look up and down the corridors as I slink out of the palace and make my way towards the farm.
The familiar sight of his narrow frame is a surprising comfort to me, a balm I hadn’t expected. When he sees me, I see the rush of warmth in his face, and I’m glad of the first flicker of happiness I’ve felt since the morning of my father’s return.
‘Elektra!’ he says, hurrying towards me.
‘Orestes?’ I ask, casting a glance behind me to make sure no one has followed.
Georgios nods. ‘I delivered him to my friends. They will take him on to Phocis. The king there, Strophius, is married to the sister of your father. It’s likely that Orestes will be received kindly there.’
I feel a pang at this. Orestes will be with my father’s sister, among our blood. I wonder if she resembles him. What stories she might be able to share. My thoughts must be writ clearly upon my face, because I can see the sympathy brimming in Georgios’ eyes. If he speaks too kindly to me, I am afraid of how I might respond. ‘So I’ll wait.’
‘For Orestes to return?’
‘What else can I do?’
Georgios sighs. ‘Orestes is a boy,’ he says. ‘It will be years before he can come back here, before he can challenge Aegisthus. Do you think you can stay here, in this palace, living alongside him and the queen?’
I look away from him, stare steadily out across the scorched hillsides, bare and brown from the relentless summer heat. ‘There is nowhere else for me to go.’
I hear him swallow. ‘Do you truly believe that you will be safe? As Aegisthus becomes more accustomed to his power, do you think he will tolerate your presence?’
Despite the hot glare of the sun, I wrap my arms around myself. ‘He won’t kill me.’
‘He doesn’t have to. If he wants to get rid of you, he can marry you to any man of his choosing. He can send you to the furthest reaches of Greece, or worse, if he wants you gone.’
I imagine not being here to watch justice being done, living across a wide ocean when my father is avenged, with no way of coming back. ‘I won’t go,’ I say. But I know it means nothing.
‘Do you think you will have a choice?’
I still won’t turn my eyes back towards him. I stare steadfastly ahead, but I don’t see the sparse hillsides. I see my father’s tomb, dark and silent.
‘Elektra?’
I know that I can’t ignore the heavy note of meaning in his voice. I think I know what he will say, and I wish that I could stop him.
‘Aegisthus will only grow bolder the more time that passes. Right now, his power is new. If you are to escape whatever he has planned, this is the time.’
‘How will I escape?’ My voice is flat.
I hear him take a breath. His hand is on my shoulder. All at once, he is so much closer to me. ‘Choose your own husband, Elektra. Announce it to your mother. If her heart is not made entirely of stone, she may take pity on you, knowing how you grieve your father. If you tell her, if you are resolute, then you can stay here in Mycenae, waiting for Orestes to come back.’
I shrink back from the touch of his hand. ‘And who will that husband be?’
‘I know I am only a humble farmer. I know that you should marry a king. I would never dare to offer, except that I can keep you safe in Mycenae until your brother comes back. I would not – I would never—’
As his words stumble into confusion, I finally look at him. His face is stiff, and a faint flush over his sun-roughened cheeks hints at his embarrassment; I feel suffused with it myself. Everything that he says is true. And I know that this offer is meant with kindness.
But I have never imagined that I would marry, and if I did, it would never be to a man like Georgios. Is this my mother’s victory? The anger flares back up inside me. That she takes my father from me, that I need to seek protection in a marriage he would never have chosen for me. Marriage to a man who is nothing like Agamemnon. My body revolts against the thought.
And yet . . . if I say no, it could be so much worse. I feel Georgios’ nerves thrumming in the air around us. There is no breeze; the heat presses down upon me. I have to give him an answer. I know if I say yes, I can leave this palace, I can get away from Clytemnestra, but still stay close enough to watch her, close enough to count down the years until Orestes returns. Perhaps this is the only way I can truly honour my father.