Or he could have been spirited away elsewhere, anywhere in the vast world beyond here. He could be hidden on the smallest island or tucked away in the most sprawling city. Where will I find one child in the whole of Greece?
‘Wherever he has gone, we will hear of it,’ Helen is saying. ‘Take heart; we will find out in time.’
I nod dully. ‘If he comes here, he will not want you to tell me.’
‘I won’t let him know about this. But I will get a message to you the moment I hear anything of your son, I promise.’ She takes my hand. ‘It is likely he will come here, to seek his father’s brother. But I can tell you, Menelaus has no appetite for fighting any more. Not to avenge Agamemnon. I can speak for you, if Orestes arrives here: he will hear your cause.’ She hesitates. ‘When I heard you had borne a son, I thought of my daughter – that the two of them could marry one day, join our houses closer again.’
I try to imagine that. Helen can so easily sketch out a future, seeing years ahead how things might fall to our advantage. Since Aulis, I have only made one plan, and that is done. I do not have the heart to look to what might come; I do not have the faith to envision that it will be in my favour.
‘My guards are waiting, outside the palace walls,’ I say. I pull my hand from hers and stand. ‘I have what I came for – I must return before they come to find me.’
‘I’m glad you came,’ she says softly. ‘It was brave of you to risk it.’
I bite my tongue. ‘You go back to the feast,’ I say. ‘I will slip out, the same way I came in.’
She stands. ‘I will seek news of Orestes. I will tell you anything I discover.’
I let her embrace me. I needed to come here, to see for myself. I am sure she isn’t lying, that she knows nothing of my son, but the urgency that brought me here has all drained away, and I feel nothing but a great, weary disappointment.
‘Farewell,’ she whispers in my ear, and then she slips out of the room.
I watch from her door to make sure there is no one around. I jump at the sound of a voice, but it isn’t the booming sound of Menelaus; it is a soft and girlish tone.
‘Mother,’ she says, and I see a young woman step out and catch Helen’s arm at the end of the corridor.
‘Hermione, have you come to find me?’ I watch as she slips her arm through her daughter’s, pulling her close as they walk on together, their chatter dying away as they disappear.
Hermione, the daughter that Helen left behind. Still here in Sparta, waiting for her mother all those years since Helen walked away from her. Fury blooms inside me, though I know rage will do me no good. Why rail against my sister’s good fortune? It will not bring any of my children home to me.
34
Elektra
‘Elektra! We have news.’
Georgios is standing in our doorway with another figure, someone I don’t recognise from this distance. We never have visitors. I nearly drop the jar of water I’m carrying. I set it down carefully on the ground, trying to calm the pounding of my heart. I don’t want to have to walk all the way back to collect more if I spill it all. I won’t let myself hope that this could be Orestes. I walk over to them as steadily as I can, my eyes raking the stranger for details. He’s roughly dressed, a peasant like Georgios – like me, now. There’s nothing familiar about him, and no light of recognition in his eyes either.
‘Word has come of Odysseus.’ Georgios looks more concerned about it than I would expect. I can’t see why it matters so much.
‘Odysseus?’ I shake my head, confused. ‘Isn’t he dead?’
‘He’s alive, all these years after the war,’ Georgios says. ‘Everyone’s talking about it, what they’ve heard.’
‘What does it have to do with us?’ How lucky for Odysseus’s wife and son, I think, to have him back even so many years after the war has ended. I would have waited so gladly, for twice as long, if it meant my father could come home alive.
The stranger clears his throat. ‘He’s been to all kinds of places. There are many stories, but no one in Mycenae is allowed to talk about it.’
‘Why not?’
He lowers his voice, even though there is no one visible anywhere near our deserted shack. ‘The queen and Aegisthus have spies, constantly searching for information about your brother. But they aren’t always so discreet, especially when their lips are loosened by wine. One of them recently returned from Sparta, where they are always monitoring in case King Menelaus takes Orestes in, and he overheard the whole tale recounted to the king by a herald.’