I can hear Shepherd screaming, warning me I’ll undo her sacrifice, Claret’s sacrifice.
Warning me I will ruin them all. Didn’t I just tell Gruoch to make better choices?
‘This is my better choice,’ I say.
And this time when my ravens try to burst free, I let them.
One thousand hungry beaks attack the wall, two thousand wings flapping a maelstrom, tearing apart everything in my way, everything in this world that isn’t Claret.
44. Claret
The door Shepherd exiled me through vanishes, leaving me stranded in a worse prison.
Squeezing my knife’s hilt, I take it all in. The vaulted, gilded ceiling; the vapours from the bathtub, rising as if in supplication; the tiled floors, still pristine like mirrors. Mycenae glints with gold and guilt, every surface riddled with recollections. So many crimes have been committed in these halls … First to me, then by me – then, if we are to believe the Moirai, to me once more. But judging by the lack of blood on the floor, this must be early hours in the eve of my revenge. My two victims have yet to meet my knife.
Which means I have to play my part again, only this time with a difference. This time I’ve glimpsed beyond the tapestry of mundane existence, I’ve seen the threads of human lives twist and unravel, make new pathways, weave different worlds. I’ve drunk the broth of miracles, killed screeching shadows, kissed a queen with forest eyes. I’ve found a verdant kind of love, and watched it fly away. Pretending to be Klytemnestra should be child’s play.
‘Guards,’ I yell, my voice strong and even, reaching the two men that I know are stationed right outside this chamber. ‘Bring me the Trojan princess.’
Twin spears rattle on the floor in acknowledgement. Ihad forgotten what it feels like, for my words to be perceived as law. I’m certain I enjoyed it more, before.
I pace, setting the scene from memory. Cassandra is to come in, followed by Agamemnon. I am to lure him in the bath and then –
‘Now I strike down all I said before; no shame to cancel words once they’re out of time.’
I mutter these words with reverence; my planned speech, to confront the court elders once all this is done. Yet as I speak them, they take on a different meaning. Maybe I don’t have to retrace my steps. Not entirely. After all, I didn’t wear this cloak before – and I decide not to take it off. Let its colour convey my intentions, for anyone with eyes to see.
Cassandra comes in, escorted by the guards who step back to give me privacy. I do not recall their names, but I do recall their greed. They’ve taken my bribes for years, coin by precious coin, always with the promise of more, to ensure their silence while their king is slaughtered. I can use that greed to my advantage now.
‘You called for me, my queen?’ Cassandra’s voice is soft, her words tinged with her Trojan accent, vowels long and sing-song. Did I use to find that boorish? Barbarian? All I see now is a frightened woman, too noble to succumb to pleading for what she must suspect awaits her. Her auburn hair reminds me of Ophelia – her sky-blue eyes of Helene. A poor imitation, on both counts, yet my heart still aches in phantom familiarity.
I must imagine my sister happier than I left her.
‘Yes. Come closer, child, let me look at you.’
Cassandra obliges, only the smallest challenge in her gaze.
I know how this next part goes. I am supposed tolecture her on proper palatial etiquette, make her believe I will accept her as my husband’s concubine, if she respects me as her ruler. Then, I’ll make her pour oils in Agamemnon’s bath, and order her to stay here, lest we need her. A needless cruelty, to have her watch his murder. I could have slit her throat first and be done with it. Order my guards to slaughter her outside, away from prying eyes.
I sigh, aware that I have let the silence stretch for too long.
I take her hands and hold them tight. She trembles but does not resist. ‘Tell me truthfully, are you with child? With my husband’s child?’My husband… What an ill-flavoured word it has become. I hope never to utter it again after tonight.
Cassandra’s blue eyes widen. ‘No, my queen, I swear. I had my blood two days ago.’
Easy enough to prove, if I were so inclined. But there’s no time. ‘Good. That will make this next part easier.’ I drag Cassandra with me to the back corner of the room, as far away from the guards’ earshot as possible. I cannot help but notice how the palace holds its breath, how everything feels still and quiet, the air heavy with herbs and expectation. How this world waits for me to make the next move. I retrieve a bundle from the floor, hidden behind a pillow in the corner, in case tonight’s events went badly and I had to flee.
Past Klytemnestra planned for everything.
‘This contains bread, a flask of wine and water, several coins. Enough to buy you passage somewhere far away. Change your name. Shorten your speech, so as not to reveal its foreign lilt. Keep your eyes down and you might survive long enough.’
Cassandra blinks. ‘I … don’t understand. Are you banishing me?’
Maybe I should still kill her. Just a little bit. I huff, exasperated. ‘I’m saving you. You are an innocent in this. I had a different plan for you, a darker plan, but … call it divine intervention. I changed my mind. My guards will take you to the city’s gates, and then you’re on your own. If you leave here now, I swear: no one will come after you. Especially not Agamemnon.’ I hold her gaze, hoping she understands what I’m not saying.
The change in her demeanour startles me. Like a river when a dam breaks, what was once contained within, mounting with tension, now spills out of her. Cassandra weeps wordlessly, body folding in two; she falls on her knees and hides her cheek on my dress. ‘Thank you, thank you,’ she repeats, over and over, a prayer I don’t deserve.
‘Get up, we don’t have time for such nonsense.’ I thought I was a fair person, before. But who’s to say whether the column of my fairness tilted to cruelty? She deserves to live. ‘Keep those coins secret from the guards, mind you. Tuck them well under your skirts.’
