I expected gratitude, but instead she snorted. ‘How generous,to allow me a visitor in my own home.’ Psyche was vicious when she was angry, like a cornered polecat.
I recoiled. I had come with an olive branch and received a blow from a switch.
‘And how are my mother and father to get here?’ she continued. ‘They rule a kingdom. They are not free to travel whenever they like. And furthermore, what will I tell them about a husband who refuses to make an appearance?’
I was quickly losing patience. ‘Then invite someone else,’ I replied, desperation fraying the edges of my words. ‘Perhaps that cousin you talk so much about, the priestess.’
Psyche laughed bitterly and did not reply. ‘And what will I say to her? That my husband is a dolphin, a bird, a horse?’
I was finished and wanted only to sleep. ‘Tell her as much or as little as you like,’ I said, settling into my side of the bed. ‘You complain when I tell you what to do, so I leave it to your discretion.’
I lay down, but Psyche remained upright, a pillar of seething resentment in the darkness.
‘Can’t you understand?’ she said after some time. The haughty tone was gone from her voice, replaced by a plaintive note that speared my heart. ‘I don’t even know whether you have a mother or father or siblings. You’ve never told me anything about that. There’s so much I don’t know about you, so much you won’t share with me. But won’t you let me share this with you, at least? Won’t you come and see my childhood home, the place where I grew up?’
‘I wish I could,’ I said to placate Psyche. ‘But let us see how your cousin’s visit goes first.’
This was met by an expectant silence from Psyche’s side of the bed. I did not elaborate, and after some time, Psyche gave a huff of impatience and threw the blankets over her head.
18
Psyche
My first thought when I saw Iphigenia was that she had changed.
She was taller, for one thing, her coltish adolescent frame softened by the curves of adulthood. Her features were sharper, more solid. I noticed that she wore an ordinary woman’s chiton instead of the robes of a priestess of Artemis, a fact I resolved to bring up later.
From the moment I saw her father’s ship dock in the cove below, I paced the halls of the seaside house like an enthusiastic puppy. When Iphigenia made her way up the winding staircase to the front terrace, red-faced and out of breath, I threw my arms around her. My oldest, dearest friend, returned to me at last.
She laughed and extricated herself from my embrace, gazing at me with amazement. ‘I am so glad to see that you are well, Psyche,’ she said. ‘The accounts of your disappearance were … concerning.’
‘I wrote you letters. And as you can see, I am as well as I have ever been,’ I replied cheerily, then sobered as a thought occurred to me. ‘King Nestor, is he angry?’
Iphigenia shook her head. ‘No, only puzzled. He has movedon; when it became clear you would not return, he took a princess from Corinth as wife.’
My shoulders softened in relief. ‘That is a mercy,’ I replied. I directed Iphigenia into the house, towards the fine oak table laden with food.
‘What a beautiful home,’ Iphigenia breathed, admiring the coloured glass that let in bright sheaves of sunlight. ‘Tell me more of your husband!’ she said.
Panic gripped me. I had told Iphigenia as little as possible in my letters. How could I explain that a god had taken me as his wife and came to me only in darkness? She would think I had gone mad, or else she would be wild with fear.
‘He’s a noble prince who has elected to live a solitary existence here by the ocean,’ I said, though the lie pained me. I had never kept secrets from Iphigenia before. ‘Unfortunately, he cannot join us today, but he is handsome and wealthy and very kind. He …’
I trailed off. I couldn’t simply tack one vague description onto another. I had to think of something more convincing. ‘He loves hunting and archery, so we have a great deal in common,’ I finished awkwardly.
Iphigenia looked at me expectantly, waiting for more. I made a grand flourish that nearly knocked over the ewer of wine and asked her to tell me more about events at home.
She had been waiting for this. A sly grin crossed my cousin’s face, and she leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘There’s news from Sparta.’
Helen had vanished, an event that coincided with the departure of a Trojan trade delegation. Menelaus organized a panicked search before a letter in the queen’s own hand arrived some days later, explaining that she had gone to live with the prince Paris in the city of Troy.
I thought of the beautiful, miserable woman I had met so many years ago.I want more than this,Helen had said on her wedding night.I wanted to fall in love and see the world. I thought of her in faraway Troy, hanging on the arm of a foreign prince. It seemed that Helen found a way to get what she wanted after all.
I said as much to Iphigenia, and her eyes flashed with grim excitement. ‘But there’s still the oath to contend with,’ she said. ‘Don’t you remember the oath that Helen’s former suitors made at the wedding?’
I didn’t. My memory of the event was obscured by ambient misery. Fortunately, Iphigenia was happy to elaborate.
‘They swore that any man who absconded with Helen would face all the rest in battle,’ she reminded me. ‘Some of the men were still bitter that they hadn’t been chosen, and the oath was necessary to keep the peace. But who thought that Helen would be kidnapped by a foreigner, and a guest at that?’ Iphigenia shook her head at the sacrilege of it.
