Next day Hippolytos took young Akamas to Phaleron Bay to drive and swim; they came back brown from the salt and sun, all loosened and at ease. Seeing them together, I thought, “He will lean on Hippolytos for everything, and it will be the same when he is King. The elder will rule here in all but name.” And then I thought, “What life is that, for such a man as he will be? Sly old panders can do as much, or whores. To stand for the people before the gods, that is kingship. Power by itself is the bronze without the gold.”
It was about this time that Hippolytos said to me, “Father, what sort of man is Menestheus? What does he want?”
“Want?” I said. “To think well of himself. So he takes trouble and does not make mistakes. He is a useful man, and will make a good envoy, when he can be kept from meddling.”
“You are thinking of Halai,” he said. They had had a land-dispute there, and I had sent Menestheus to see the chiefs.
“Oh,” I answered, “he had planned a great day for the tribes to come together and make speeches before each other and me. Of course they would have dragged up every old grudge for generations back; got to mortal insults by noon, threats before sundown; and first blood would have been spilled on the way home. Then we should have had ten years of it. And so I told him. When I had got the story from him, I just drove down there alone, saw the headmen quietly, and got them to agree. Each gave up something; but it was all gain for the peasants, who would have starved when the crops were burned. Maybe Menestheus hoped for some consequence out of the meeting; but it was the Halaians we were supposed to be concerned with.”
“Was it consequence he missed?” Hippolytos said. “I thought it was the anger. He seemed restless for it, I don’t know why.”
I thought about it, for he never said such things lightly. “It would not have brought him any gain.”
“Oh, no; not gain. He is very upright. Whatever he did, he would need to be pleased with first. Perhaps anger helps him. But have you noticed, Father, when a man has bad luck, no matter how he suffers, Menestheus doesn’t notice it? He only pities him if he is wronged; he must begin with anger.”
“His father beat him,” I said. “Like many another. Why it is only Menestheus who can’t forget it, I cannot tell. Well, he is a lightweight when all is said, not worth making much of either way.”
So it was often, when we talked about affairs. He had learned no more shrewdness than in his childhood; yet he would cut clean through intrigue that would have tangled a shrewder man; he scarcely knew it was there, having nothing it could catch him by, no envy, spite or greed. Yes; but he was like the man who is made weapon-proof, save in that one place where the god who did it grasped him. One sees clearly, after.
A day or so later, word came to me that the Queen was sick.
I broke off my business, feeling concerned; but I was put out, too. She had had my leave to go, as Athens did not suit her; if she had stayed, no doubt it was because she would not leave Akamas with his brother and me. The boy had been too much at her petticoats, and needed men.
When I came to her room, the curtains were all closed; she lay in a dark-red gloom, with cloths upon her brow which the women changed continually, wringing them in cold water. The room smelled of Cretan essences, heavy and sweet.
I asked what the doctor thought of it. “Oh, I can’t bear him near me; he can do nothing for my headaches, yet he won’t leave me in quiet, but talks till my head is splitting.” She tossed about, and smelled at a pomander a girl held out to her, and shut her eyes. I was going away when she opened them and said, “And Akamas drives me mad with his ‘Send for Hippolytos’ all day. Oh, let him come, let him come; I know it can’t help me, but there will be no peace till you all see it for yourselves. Bring him, do, with those great healing hands of his, and let us have it over.”
“He will come,” I said, “if you ask him. But I see no sense in it. It will only vex you more.” My guess was that she wanted to make a fool of him, to vent her fretfulness. She dragged the damp cloth off her brow and reached out for another, and said, “Yes, yes; but I am so on edge with all this talk of it, I shall have no more rest till it is done. Do send him, though it is nonsense; then I can sleep.”
I found the lad. He was in the stables, talking horse-medicine with an old groom, their heads over a thrushy foot, the horse nosing his neck. When I had got him aside and told him, he said, “Well, Father, if you like; but I think I’ll have more luck here. The horse trusts me; and it needs that, to make a path for the god.”
“I know; she is tired and crotchety, and I don’t suppose you will get much thanks. Come all the same; after all, it will not kill you.”
I remember that we smiled.
As we crossed the courtyard, I was thinking how often he spoke with reverence of Apollo now. Once it had been all the Lady. But he would have learned Paian’s worship at Epidauros; they are brother and sister, after all.
Phaedra’s women had opened the curtains just a crack. She had been combed and propped upon fresh pillows, and her eyes touched up with blue. I led up the boy and he stood at the bedside, looking, as I had never seen him, awkward and gawky; his big long hands hung at his sides, uncertain, seeming to think by themselves. He muttered something, to say he was sorry she was in pain.
I was pleased that she spoke pleasantly. “Oh, it comes and goes. But it is bad today, and I have tried everything now but you; so do your best for me.”
He drew into himself, as I have seen healers do before, looking and thinking; men laid his hand across her brow and stood as if he listened. She shut her eyes. Presently he put both hands on her temples, pressing a little, with a half-frown and this listening look. After a while, he would have taken his hands away, but she pulled at his wrist, so he kept them there a little longer. At last he stood back and shook his head, saying, I am sorry. Elixir of willow-bark might help it.”
She opened her eyes and said, “Why, it has gone!”
“Gone?” he said, and leaned over to study her. “What a strange thing; I never felt it. I am glad you are better. You will sleep now, I hope. Good-by.”
As we left I said to him, I will thank you for her, since she forgot.” He said smiling, “The god did it by himself. I wish I knew how. Well, back to the horse; that’s a simple case.”
In the next few days, she sent for him once or twice. The first time, I brought him to her, the next I was busy and sent him with her woman. The next day after, she sent for him again; but he had gone driving, taking his young brother with him. After all, as I told her, it was to help the boy he had stayed on, and they would not have much more time together.
I had business still in Halai, sorting out the boundaries, which were in a muddle centuries old. Most days I went out there. I had let too much go, in the years of roving. The evening after, I found Phaedra had sent for Hippolytos again and, though he was in, he had not gone. When I asked him why, he said quite shortly, “I sent her some physic. It will do her more good than I can.”
“Maybe,” I answered. “But go as a courtesy. It makes for a pleasant house.”
“Let us both go, then,” he said, “and see how she is.”
“I have no time.” I daresay I was curt; it was not for him to tell me my duty. “Go before it is too late.”
He went off with the maid. We had just eaten; he was dressed for the Hall, with his great gold necklace. It comes back to me clearly now, though then I did not heed it much: his belt of coral and lapis studs, his hair just washed, all bland and shining, and how he smelled of sweet herbs from the bath.