Chapter 2
Clytemnestra always loved the sea air. The gardens were incredible, the way they overlooked the sheer cliffs. She followed the path through the Lion's Gate and took in the imposing sculptures, the two lions carved high overhead, sitting on the massive lintel. The whole thing giving the impression of having been built by giants because no one else would be capable of lifting stones that big. The first time she had seen them, Clytemnestra was so young, her innocence had just been ripped from her. She was facing a scary new life at the hands of her childhood friend who had brutally forced her into marriage. Now a different type of fear rippled through Clytemnestra's body, one born in anticipation. After today, these gates, this place, would hold something different for her -- they would truly belong to her. She had earned them and what they represented. Clytemnestra resolved never to feel as powerless as she had when she first walked through those gates again.
Clytemnestra followed the path through the gate down the trail lined with olive trees and vines. The flowers and herbs were in full bloom; oregano and roses mingled with the salt from the ocean. Agamemnon's fleet of ships sailed ever closer. Clytemnestra could swear that she felt him getting closer in her very bones.
Electra was sitting on a bench, looking out at the water. Before approaching, Clytemnestra watched her daughter for a moment. Hers and Agamemnon's daughter. She was still so very young, seventeen, with her life ahead of her. Electra was passionate and eager to please and took to her lessons well. She could sew and sing better than Clytemnestra herself. The only thing Clytemnestra did better was weaving, something she loved for its relaxing, rhythmic grace; Clytemnestra had always enjoyed the duties of ruling a kingdom more than the domestic chores of running a household. She knew that Electra would make a far better wife to someone one day than she had ever been. And she was so pretty, her long hair down, pulled back by simple combs, fluttering in the breeze, her very being full of youthful exuberance and naivete. Her slim figure was already attracting the attention of future suitors. She had fine features and took after her mother, though she was always her father's daughter.
Electra turned her head to her mother, as if sensing her presence.
"Isn't it exciting, mother?" she gasped. "Father will be home soon."
"Yes," replied Clytemnestra. This is what she would regret about her actions, how Agamemnon would force her to break her daughter's heart.
Electra looked down. "How do you think he'll react to, you know? You and Aegisthus."
"I think he'll understand, dear," replied Clytemnestra calmly. "When he left we weren't on good terms and he's been gone for so long."
"Yes, but..." Electra stopped to gather her thoughts. "It's said that Penelope over in Ithaca has been pining and waiting for Odysseus to return."
"Yes, and demurely weaving endless tapestries and shrouds. She must be miserable, the poor wretch. That is not my style." Clytemnestra looked toward the returning ships.
"Well, I'm happy that he'll be back. I've missed him."
Clytemnestra breathed in sharply and put her hand on her daughter's cheek. She almost could have been looking into a polished bronze mirror of herself when she was younger. When had she become so jaded? Was this Agamemnon's true legacy, the hardening of her heart?
"I know you miss your father, my dear, but I wouldn't get used to having him around. He won't be staying."
"But this is his home. He's the king. Where else would he go?"
To Hades, I hope, Clytemnestra thought. "That is not my concern, my dear. You know full well why I can't have him here."
"But he was doing what he thought was best."
"No, he was putting everyone else before his family. He was more concerned about his own glory than about his own children. I can't forgive him. I can't and I won't."
"Maybe he's changed. War and being away from home for so long will do that."
Clytemnestra steeled herself; she couldn't afford to soften at Electra's words. She was so young, but soon, she would learn the harsh realities of life. All too soon, as it happened. "That may be, Electra, but it's too late. Too much has happened. And I've found happiness with Aegisthus."
"But, what about your duty to your husband?"
"He should have thought about that duty before he left for Troy. Agamemnon is the one who started this. Remember, whatever happens, I am simply following his lead."
"I wish you would change your mind."
"I know, but I won't. We've had this discussion before."
Electra followed her mother's gaze to the fleet of ships getting ever closer. Clytemnestra saw her shiver.
"They'll be here soon," said Electra, interrupting the silence. "I'm going to go and get ready."
"Good idea," replied Clytemnestra. "I'll see you tonight, at the feast."
"Should we do a sacrifice to the gods, to say thank you for his safe return?" asked Electra.
"Of course, my dear. I already have that covered."
YOU ARE READING
Betrayed: The Story of Clytemnestra
Historical Fiction"There is a smell of murder. The walls drip with blood." From Agamemnon by Aeschylus. Queen Clytemnestra, the original femme fatale, rules the powerful ancient kingdom of Mycenae, kills her husband when he returns victorious from the Trojan War, and...