The king did not answer. He was tense and weary, his eyes were as red as one who had not slept the entire night. His gaze was absent again, his mind distracted. Tumultuous images passed behind his brow, like storm clouds dragged by the wind.
‘You feel, within yourself, that you did not really pay the true price, the highest and most precious tribute, the only one that would have allowed you to ask an entire nation to combat and die. You feel that your trickery turned the benevolence of the gods against you. Everything went badly from that moment on. Everything went out of control. From the hands of man to the hands of fate. Am I right?’
The king’s forehead creased deeply, but not a word came from his mouth. The crackling of flames could be heard from the courtyard, and the soft murmuring of men sitting around the fire.
‘The responsibility was ours,’ he said then, ‘and we acted as we had to act. No one had foreseen the war. Not even the Trojans.’
‘But if Priam had returned the woman, would you have obtained what you wanted? Had she succeeded in learning the secret of the talisman of Troy?’
‘No. Not until many years later, after Paris had been killed, after she had become the legitimate wife of Deiphobus his brother and was thus recognized as part of the royal family. In the end, we did succeed in winning the talisman of the Trojans, but at what a price! The laments of my fallen comrades do not let me sleep at night. Their cries rising from Hades lick at the feet of my bed: Achilles, slain by Paris before the Scaean Gates, Patroclus, murdered by Hector. . Antilochus, son of Nestor; today he would reign over sandy Pylus. Ajax the Locrian crushed between the rocks. . my brother, butchered like a bull in the manger. Ajax Telamon, who threw himself on his own sword; it pierced through his back, running red with his blood. Diomedes and Idomeneus forced to flee, perhaps already dead in some far off, unknown land. And Ulysses. . Ulysses has not come back.
‘We had time to become friends under the walls of Troy but now, now that I need his counsel and his help so badly, he is not here. Perhaps he wanders still over the boundless seas.
‘The other night I had a dream. I was on the seashore, and I could hear the voices of my comrades calling to me from the depths of the nether world. They called me by name; they asked for my help, tormented as they were by cold and by solitude. I tried to answer, tried to speak with them, but my voice did not leave my throat. I opened my mouth but no sound came out. Then I suddenly saw the ship of Ulysses emerging from the mist covering the expanse of the waves. I saw him land, and sacrifice a black victim to the infernal gods. And the souls of the dead rose up to him from the depths of the abyss. One of them, a venerable old man with a long beard, spoke to him but I could not hear him, I could not perceive the sound of his words. I could only see Ulysses’s face turn white in dismay.
‘When the old man finished speaking I heard the voices of my comrades again. I saw them all, one by one, passing before the son of Laertes: Achilles, Ajax, Agamemnon, Eurilocus. . but their voices no longer had the same deep, forceful timbre as when they sent the ranks to battle on the fields of Ilium. Shrill sounds came from their mouths, like the screeching of bats in a cave; piercing cries that contrasted with their weak aspect, with the pale shining of their armour. Oh gods, I saw them all, I saw my companions and my brother in the cold squalor of Hades. .’
Orestes watched him intently and saw terror, panic, emptiness, solitude painted on his pale, sweaty face. ‘It was only a bad dream, uncle. You did as you thought best, and now justice is on our side again. We will win, and restore order to the land of the Achaeans. Do not despair: you have many years of serene life to look forward to, here with your people, alongside your bride and your daughter.’
‘My daughter,’ said the king, lowering his head with a sigh. ‘I have promised her to Pyrrhus, in order to bind him to us and obtain his alliance.’
Orestes suddenly started, but immediately regained his composure. The wind was picking up, whistling softly through the courtyard and the portico, stirring the flames of the torches and lamps. The prince strained his ears as if the wind carried distant whispers. He said: ‘Were you aware of the plotting of the queens?’
‘I was.’
‘What did you know?’
‘Everything. I can tell you everything, if you are not tired, my son.’
‘I am not tired.’
Menelaus began to speak again: ‘It was a night like this one, long and silent, the west wind was blowing. Paris, the Trojan prince, was our guest and he had already fallen into our trap. Ulysses sat on that stool you see over there and he seemed to be staring at the shadows cast by the wavering flames of the lamps. He suddenly said: “Tomorrow I want to see the queen again and speak to her before I go. Then I will return to my island and wait until it is time to go to Troy.”
‘I answered him: “Then you will have to rise at the first light of dawn; the queen will be leaving the palace to visit her sister Clytemnestra. She will stay away for several days.”
‘Ulysses seemed to take no note of my words. His eyes were half closed and his head was leaning against the wall. Then he said: “Did you know that Queen Aigialeia of Argos will be visiting Clytemnestra as well?”
‘ “No,” I answered. “I did not.”
‘Ulysses fell silent again and he seemed to be listening to the wind that whispered light through the courtyard.
‘ “Do you know that the queen of Crete has landed at Mases to attend a secret meeting? No, you don’t know. But I do. I also know that Queen Clytemnestra has sent a man she trusts to Ithaca, taking advantage of my absence. What do you make of all this?” said Ulysses.
‘I was astonished. “How do you know all this?” I asked him.
‘He did not answer. He said: “Send the other woman to the meeting, and have her make sure it takes place in the open, after sunset. We cannot run any risks.” I did as he had told me to do, and we came to learn of their pact. Ulysses and myself. No one else.’
The prince shook his head incredulously: ‘Not even my father? Why? It could have saved his life. .’ The boy’s gaze was murky, challenging again.
‘It wasn’t clear in the beginning. It seemed to be a pact of friendship among the queens, an agreement to meet every year to celebrate rites in honour of the Potinja. Only Ulysses continued to scent danger, and the day the fleet set sail from Aulis he was still tormented by suspicion.
‘Many years later, the night we stopped at Tenedos on our return voyage, he boarded my ship. I was awake, out on the deck, watching the bloody light illuminating the sky to the east: Troy was still burning. . He came close without making a sound and put his hands down on the ship’s railing, next to my own. He said to me: “Do not trust anyone, when you arrive home. Put ashore secretly, at night. Allow only the men who fought with you at Ilium to come close to you. I’ve warned Diomedes as well, but I fear he confides too much in his strength. He has not yet learned that deceit is infinitely more powerful.”
‘He turned towards the curved stern which my companion slept under, exhausted by the emotions and the hardships of those last days and nights. He said: “Send her to meet with the other queens, if they invite her.” ’
‘And why didn’t you return?’ insisted the prince. His eyes flashed with barely restrained ire.
The king lowered his head: ‘I sailed for Delos because I could no longer stay away from Helen. I had forced her into long, bitter solitude. I couldn’t wait any longer. I left the woman who was with me to the priestesses, so they could take her to a secret place in the Peloponnese. And I stayed with Helen.’
‘As you bedded Helen, my father was dying! Downed like an animal, along with all of his comrades!’
The king’s hands trembled, his eyes filled with tears. ‘It is as you say,’ he said. ‘I heard his last breath, distinctly, I felt the knife that cut his throat slash my own flesh, I saw his funeral mask rising like a bloody moon, hovering over the tower of the chasm! Son, my grief for his death bites into me every day and every night, like a ferocious dog. Do not condemn me, for you know not what paths your life may still take! You do not know if your courage will fail you one day, suddenly, if passion will cloud your mind and your good sense. Our destiny is not in our hands, and if the gods grant us a moment of happiness they make us pay for it bitterly, sooner or later. Do not judge me, do not condemn a man who suffers.’