Heroes

groans of the wounded and the shrieks of the dying.

The prince stared into his absent eyes: ‘You set off the war to recapture a slave. . the kings of the Achaeans suffered injury, pain and death over a slave. . kingdoms overturned, thrones bloodied. . all of this. . for nothing more than a slave!’ He pounded his fist on the table, jolting the cups. ‘I want nothing from you. I do not want your help and I will not remain in this house another instant.’ He sprang to his feet but the king barred his way, towering over him, and the sudden movement of his head stirred up his long red hair like a vortex of flames.

‘That was not the reason, I told you!’ Menelaus’s voice blared out suddenly in the silence like a war horn. ‘She was not the reason the war was fought,’ he said again, his voice lower after the prince had blanched and dropped his head. ‘She was a combatant. . more fearsome than the cunning of Ulysses, than the ire of Achilles, than the might of Great Ajax!’

‘But you told me. .’ began Orestes.

‘Yes, I told you that I could not bear the thought that another man might take his pleasure with the living image of my bride. And that’s all. That’s all I was thinking of when I had her brought to a secret place where she was washed, nursed to health and cared for. Every day I had her served the same food and the same drink as the queen. In the same identical quantities, at the same times. When I saw her again, months later, I was dazzled: she was the perfect image of my bride. I even thought. .’

‘That she was her twin sister?’ asked the prince.

‘Yes, I thought so. Castor and Pollux, Helen’s brothers, were twins. If the gods had created a prodigy once, could they not do it again?’

‘Yes,’ said Orestes. ‘Why not twice?’

Menelaus approached him, put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed tightly: ‘You are tired, son. .’ he said, ‘and you are so young. . perhaps you would like to sleep. I sleep little and poorly, prey to nightmares.’

‘I do not wish to sleep,’ said the prince and he placed his hand over the king’s. ‘I have come to learn everything, before doing what must be done. You must not hide anything from me, if I am to be the one who leads the charge of the chariots over the plains of Mycenae, if I must raise my sword over the body. .’ He did not have the strength to say another word.

Menelaus poured more wine into the cups then, and continued. ‘The queen’s nurse was still alive then and I met with her one winter’s night in the little house near the river where she lived alone and unwell, cared for by a handmaid whom Helen had ordered to stay with her as long as she lived and never leave her wanting for anything. The queen loved her nurse dearly, and often went to visit her, bringing her the sweets and fruits that she was so fond of. No one could have noticed me, for I was dressed as a farmer, and rode a mule loaded with bundles of sticks.

‘When I entered, the servant recognized me as soon as I bared my head; she kissed my hand, and Helen’s nurse recognized me then as well. She was ailing, and breathing with difficulty, but her eyes lit up when she saw me. I sat beside her bed and said: “Mother, I have bought a slave from some Ponikjo merchants. She was dirty and ragged, and her body was full of bruises, as happens with those slaves who won’t accept their condition and rebel against their masters or try to escape. I handed her over to people I trust, so she would be treated well and cared for. Now, mother, that slave is the perfect image of Helen. So perfect she looks like the same person.”

‘The old woman’s expression changed suddenly; her lips trembled and her hand gripped mine, squeezing it with surprising strength. She said: “Where was the Ponikjo ship coming from, son? Where had it been?” Her breath came in short gasps, whistling as it left her bosom.

‘I answered, “I do not know, mother. The Ponikjo journey among all peoples, and cross the sea wherever they please.”

‘The nurse fell back upon the bed but her breathing was becoming more strained, and came in painful gasps. Her eyes were lost in time, as if searching for long-buried images. She made an effort and clasped my arm again: “Where did the Ponikjo ship go then? Has it ever returned to our port?”

‘ “I don’t know where it went and we’ve never seen those merchants since. Tell me, I beg of you, what are you thinking? Why is your breath so short? What causes you such distress?”

‘She did not answer. She would not answer, no matter how much I implored her. Perhaps she thought an uncertain truth would do me more harm than not knowing. She closed her eyes and seemed to be sleeping, and I did not want to tire her further with my insistent questions. She never awoke again, and several days later, we placed her on a litter and buried her with rites worthy of a family member.’

‘So you still don’t know who that woman is,’ said the prince. There was an ambiguous expression in his eyes, as though he understood what had passed through King Menelaus’s mind as he buried the queen’s nurse with honours that long ago winter’s day.

‘Who was truly responsible for the war?’ he asked then.

‘We were,’ said the king with a firm voice. He sat opposite his nephew and held his head in his hands. ‘The Atreides were the repositories of a terrible secret that dated back to the time when Euristheus reigned in Mycenae. We knew that the day would come when we would be invaded by the descendants of Hercules who had been driven away many years before by King Euristheus, and we knew that these invaders would destroy the land of the Achaeans. We were responsible for averting this impending threat, for preventing the destruction of our cities, the devastation of our fields, the massacre and enslavement of children and women.’

The prince shook his head: ‘And to ensure that this would not happen, you unleashed a war that lasted years, instead of saving your strength, instead of readying the armies and the fleets? I don’t understand. . I just can’t understand.’

The king drew a long breath, as the outer courtyard rang with the footsteps of the guards who had arrived to relieve their comrades on the first shift. Then he said: ‘What we needed, to ensure that this would not happen, was the talisman of the Trojans. The talisman would make us invincible; only with the talisman in our possession would we be able to gather the strength necessary to withstand the onslaught, but we needed to have it before our time was up. No army can challenge fate. The question was, how to win it from the hands of the Trojans? Well, one day your father told me that he was planning to go to Ithaca to consult Ulysses. The little king of the western islands was already famous then for his cunning, and both Agamemnon and I had good relations with him. His wife Penelope, as you know, is the cousin of your mother and your aunt Helen.

‘Ulysses was against the war, and he opposed our plan for a great expedition against Troy. He did not believe in the honesty of our intentions; he imagined it was a desire for power and conquest that animated us. That was the only way we could explain the answer he gave us. “If it is only that statue of stone that you want,” he said, “much less than a war is needed.” Nothing is more powerful in this world than a woman’s appeal over a man, he claimed. His plan was simple: invite one of the Trojan princes to Sparta and then convince Helen to seduce him and flee with him. Once inside the city she would be able to give us all the information we needed.’

‘I would have killed anyone else who had even hinted at such a proposal, on the spot, like a dog, but I realized the true significance of his words. He meant to say: “If you Atreides want to drag the entire Achaean people into total war, if you want to ask thousands of warriors to suffer and die, thousands of wives and mothers to wail over their fallen husbands and sons for the rest of their days, then you have to prove that you are ready for anything, ready to be the first to sacrifice what you hold dearest.”

‘Now this would have been right, if it were true, as he thought, that the real reason for our seeking war was our desire for power. Ulysses lived alone, you see, and hardly ever participated in the large assemblies of the continental kings. His little island was enough for him, he oversaw the work in his fields like a farmer, he sheared his own sheep and butchered his own swine. He was happy with what little he had.

‘And yet I hated him for what he had said, and I swore that I would kill him as soon as I had the opportunity.’

‘I can’t believe that my father would have dared to repeat such a request, even if Ulysses had suggested it to him,’ said Orestes, shaking his head. ‘My father was a man of honour.’

‘He was. In fact, when he returned he was gloomy and taciturn; he would not speak with me. He simply would not be persuaded to relate Ulysses’s proposal. And when he had finally told me, after my long insisting, he added immediately: “It’s a provocation. He merely wants to say that we can’t count on him, that it’s not his war. We’ll do without his help.”

‘It was then that I conceived of the idea of how I could trick the master of deception, the most astute of men. And so I said: “We won’t need to. I will do as he says.” As your father looked at me, stunned, as if I had gone