The House of Atreus bears a curse. One steeped in blood and nourished by decades of violence.
Klytemnestra knew this when she married Agamemnon, but being a princess in Sparta doesn't leave you with much choice, though she longs for it. The Fates s...
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The hallways are silent. Torches flicker, casting eerie shadows across the walls. The smell of burning oil fills my nostrils as the memory of blood rattles through my mind. The walls tower around me and I can't shake the feeling that they're closing in on me, threatening to trap me. I try to slow my breathing as I hurry forward, scanning every corner and every shadow for movement. But the corridor lies empty before me, all the servants seem to be occupied elsewhere.
Finally, the door to Mother's chambers comes into view, looming before me. In the darkening hallway, its ornate carvings seem to twist and coil like snakes. My stomach churns as I look at it and I take a deep breath before pushing it open.
I step into the room, my footsteps muffled by the thick carpets. She rises from the bed as I enter but I remain at the edge of the hall, hovering in the doorway. My mother's eyes quickly take me in, sweeping over my face, my worn-out tunic, my bare feet. She's grown older since I've last seen her. Even though she dyes her hair, I can see the grey peeking through at her temples, shimmery against its deep dark colour.
"What is the meaning of this?" There's no greeting, no emotion on her face at my presence in the palace. Her gaze has not lost its power though, she assesses me with the same sharpness that I'm used to.
Look at her, I say to myself. I want to remember every trace of disdain on her face, I'll need it later. I resist the urge to bare my teeth. Now I can put to use what I've practised for so long: Hiding my true thoughts from my mother, erasing every hint of them from my features. I arrange my face into a mask of sadness.
"Some men from Athens came." The tears spring to my eyes easily when I think of the grief my brother put me through this morning with his deception. "Orestes is dead. They brought his body for us to bury him."
The Queen slumps. It's as if she's shrinking right before my eyes and turning into a different person. She hesitates where she stands, her arm extending towards me and for a second, I think she might reach out to touch me, to embrace me maybe. I don't know if I'd let her. But then she pulls back, recoiling into herself. She blinks a few times and when she looks at me then, the muscles in her face seem to tremble. Her eyes remain dry but her lids twitch ever so slightly.
"Bring me to him then," she says, her voice controlled, but so quiet I have to strain my ears to understand her.
I step out into the hallway again. I bite my lip when I turn my back on her, my fists clenching at my sides. I don't know how to feel. I don't know what I expected. Did I want her to cry? To throw herself to the floor and mourn the loss of her only son? Or did I think she'd ignore my words altogether? I look over my shoulder as I slowly walk back the same way I came, my mother trailing behind me. I watch her from the corner of my eye and I wonder what goes through her head.
All is still, save for the distant echo of our footsteps. The courtyard is as deserted as the more private hallway and I wonder now where the servants have gone. In my memories, the palace was always full of people. Slaves running around on errands or servants doing chores around the house and guards milling about at the gates or near the palace walls. An oikos as large as this one consists of so many people it's hard to go undetected. I should know, I spend a lot of my childhood hiding from tutors and nurses. Yet we meet no one on our way to the megaron.
