Before me were the stairs that went up to the roof. I ran up them, and looked down to the royal terrace. It was not very far; and there was no one about but a woman far off drying clothes. I slid between the teeth of the battlements, hung, and let go. From a boy I had known how to fall lightly.
I landed on my feet, and wrenched my ankle a little; not enough to lame me, but it hurt, and sharpened my anger. I ran to the window of the bedchamber, threw wide the curtains, and found her in her bath.
For a moment, it put me in mind of my mother’s room ten years back; the girl with hairpins and comb, the dress spread on the bed, the scented steam rising from the glazed red clay. My mother was whiter, and her scent more fresh and springlike; she had been younger, but I did not think of that. I heard the Queen’s breath hiss, and I saw her face.
Once in my boyhood, when my tutor had a beating stored for me, I came in by chance before he looked for it, and caught him getting his face slapped by a Palace girl. The beating was a hard one. Now too I came before my time; there was a diadem put out for her higher than the one she wore every day. She stared at me, knees up in the bath, her face unpainted and wet with steam, one foot stuck out while the nails were pared. I saw she would make me pay for it.
She snatched her foot back, making the maid drop the knife. “Go out,” she said, “and wait. We are not ready.” I might have been a servant. It was all I needed. “It is no matter, Madam,” I said, “that you were not there to welcome me. Something prevented you. We will say no more of it.” And I sat down on the bed. There was a stir and flutter among the women. But I saw from their quiet they were afraid of her. In my mother’s room, it would have been like a pigeon loft when the cat gets in.
She sat bolt upright in the bath. I picked up her purple bodice, and looked at the embroidery. “Fine work, Madam,” I said. “Is it your own?” She signed to one of the women, who wrapped her in white linen as she stood up. “What is this insolence? Have your senses left you? Get up, and go.” I glanced at the maids and answered, “We will talk, Madam, when we are alone. Let us remember who we are.”
Suddenly she rushed toward me, the linen clutched about her, her red hair streaming. I can’t remember all she called me: barbarian horsebreaker, son of cattle thieves, northern lout, a savage not fit to live indoors. The women shrank together like scared sheep, near to the door. I jumped up, shouted “Out!” and while their mouths were still gaping pushed them through it. Then I shot the bolt.
I went quickly back to her and grasped her elbows, holding her hands well back from my eyes. “Lady,” I said, “I never yet beat a woman; but I never saw one so forget herself. It is not for my honor to let my wife abuse me like a thief. Be quiet, and don’t force me to correct you. That would be no pleasure to either of us.”
For a moment she stood all stiff between my hands. Then her mouth opened. I had known there must be guards in call. But it was that or let her be my master.
When her eyes looked past me, I set my hand across her mouth. She tried to bite me, but I kept it there. She was strong for a woman. As we swayed struggling, we tripped on the bath, and overturned it as we fell. There we lay in a wet welter on the checkered floor, among scents of spilled oils and unguents and broken jars from the bath stool. The linen sheet, which had not been girdled onto her, grew heavy with warm water and dragged away. “For once in this room,” I thought, “it shall be a man who says when.” In that same moment, I felt a pain in my shoulder like a bee-sting. She had caught up the dropped paring knife. It was not very long, but long enough, I think, to have touched the heart, only I moved and spoilt her aim.
Blood spread on the wet linen in great blots of scarlet. But I kept my hand over her mouth. “Think before you call,” I said. “Your guards are beyond the door; my dagger is here. If you send me below before my time, by Zeus you shall come with me.”
I gave her a moment more to think, and then let go. She drew a great breath—I suppose I had nearly choked her—then she turned her face against the bloody linen, and shook all over with weeping.
I was too young to have expected it. For a while I lay beside her staring like a fool, and could think of nothing better to do than pull out a broken crock from under her back, lest it should cut her, while my blood splashed down upon her breast. I wiped it off with the linen, and managed to stop the flow a little. Then I picked her up out of the mess and water, and carried her to bed.
After a while, one of the women scratched on the door, and asked if the Queen wanted anything. “Yes,” I said, “bring us some wine.” When it came I took it in; and after that we did not get up till lamp-lighting. It might have been longer, but she said the place must be cleared up before night. I must own it looked as if conquering troops had sacked it.
After this there was a time of quiet in Eleusis. I set myself to please her; once I had shown I was no one’s dog, I had no wish for strife. I slept no more away, and indeed had no call to wander. There were one or two of her girls who looked aslant in corners, now they thought they knew I had a roving eye; but I looked away. Sometimes I saw the woman who had wept for Kerkyon. She was a bath-pourer; but when she came to wait on me I used to call someone else. A look of hate strikes cold when one is naked.
We had had the first touch of morning frost, when heralds came from the King of Megara, calling for the Eleusinians to help him purge the Isthmus. The terms were those I had agreed on with Pylas: no more cattle raids, a fair share of the spoils, and free passage through either kingdom for the other’s traffic, when the road was open.
Xanthos called a war council, on the plain by the shore. This was the only men’s assembly the law of the land allowed. I came with my Guard, and led them to the accustomed place. I had told them to make a good entry, bold without swagger, which, as I see it, is the mark of a man who conceives his courage could be doubted. The warriors seemed to approve their style.
The Megarian herald spoke, putting in those arguments which are not graceful for kings to write in letters. The council was quite orderly. They had picked up from the Hellenes the use of the scepter, and I saw no one speak without it. Before long they had agreed on war; but the older men were for waiting until spring.
This was all very well, for people with the rest of their lives before them. I stood up, and held out my hand for the gold-bossed staff. “In winter,” I said, “men eat up the summer’s wealth. Why should these misbegotten thieves feast through a season on fat livestock that might be ours? With captive girls warming their beds who would be glad enough to change masters?” The young men liked this, and cheered. “Besides,” I said, “over so long, they will get wind of our coming. It will give them time to make their towers strong, and dig their gold into the ground. We should lose the richest of the booty, that at the best.” They all saw sense in this; Xanthos too had listened. He reminded the men we should be in two days’ march from home with no sea crossing, and gave his casting vote for war in autumn.
The Megarian herald then proposed that Kerkyon, who had done things in the Isthmus, should lead the vanguard. I kept my eye on Xanthos, from whom I looked for some hindrance or other; I thought he might not like the noise. But when he could be heard, he said very civilly that there could be nothing against it.
I felt well pleased with myself. I had thought I should have my work cut out with him. Once or twice, since the tussle in the marriage chamber, I had caught his eye on me. I thought my eloquence had won him over. A boy is youngest when he thinks himself a man.
3
WHICH OF YOUTH’S PLEASURES can compare with the making ready for one’s first big war? One’s spear shaft oiled and tried, one’s sword and dagger and spear blade ground sharp enough to cut hairs with, one’s chariot polished till one can see one’s face in it, one’s leather sweet with beeswax; thinking, as one goes about, of tricky thrusts and guards, or trying them out with a friend; visiting the stable three times a day to look at one’s horses. I had wondered what I should do for a charioteer, but Xanthos had found me one. Before I came, his pair had been the only Hellene horses in Eleusis. I was pleased to find him so helpful.