Electra. Kerry Greenwood

Then she sniffed and added, 'Oh, no. It's Solanos. What did Chryse call it; nightshade? They are preparing poison. Is it true the Argives, in times of famine, kill the women and the girls?'

      I recalled my father talking about cities under siege. 'Yes,' I said. 'Each man keeps one woman to fetch his water and bake his bread; the rest go to the temple and drink the draught.'

      'By the Goddess, Electra, I don't like Achaea. Even Hecate, Dark Mother, couldn't really approve of Achaea.' Cassandra rubbed both hands over her face.

      I could not understand her reaction. No man really needs more than one woman, and most of them would keep a mother or sister, not a wife. New wives could be stolen, or bought, if the village survived. However we felt about it, women were possessions, to be disposed of as the master saw fit. We expected no voice in our fate. Cassandra went back to Diomenes and the elders, striding like a man over the beaten earth. I followed her.

      'Troy has fallen,' said Diomenes. 'Agamemnon has returned.'

      'That,' he said, looking significantly at the burned roofs, 'we know. We have also heard that Agamemnon is dead. And so have the bandits; they came and took what little we had left, last night. We are preparing to sacrifice to Hades, to Pluton the Rich One. Then we will wait for our last hope.'

      Cassandra mixed wine and water for us as we sat down in the square. I wondered that I had lost so much of my mother's training in such a short time. Princess the Lady Electra, daughter of Agamemnon, raised in the strictest propriety, sitting down in public view and drinking wine with unrelated men! I would not have been able to entertain the thought a few days before.

      There is nothing to be said for the strictest propriety. There is no safety behind those thick walls and heavy doors. I drank, remembered my mother, and choked down a burning wave of rage and horror.

      The old men had accepted a little of our wine. I noticed that they were sipping sparingly and wondered that they did not take more, for we had plenty. We produced bread and shared it, and again they mouthed only a token crumb. And they were hungry. Their faces were carved with deep lines of privation.

      'When do the markets begin?' asked Eumides. 'There should be grain soon.'

      'Perhaps there will be food to buy in Argos, guest, but we have nothing to exchange. There are enough provisions in the South Village to feed us all, but we have no treasure. The barley failed, and then the rye failed. We have been scavenging for purslane and roots, acorns and pine seeds, and if the next crop does not grow we will be finished. The beasts are starved as we are. Now that the rain has come, we can sow one last crop. But it takes ten men to drag our ploughs, we are so weak.' He said this not in a boasting or a self-pitying tone, but perfectly calmly.

      I remembered Father saying, 'The common people are hysterical, volatile, prone to despair.' If this was despair it was very controlled.

      Orestes walked over to the nearest child and crouched down on his heels. He broke his lump of bread in half and gave it to the boy. The child stared for a while, his eyes glassy with starvation. Then he ran into the house. I heard a woman begin to cry.

      'But we would not fail in hospitality, our sacred duty,' the old man was continuing. 'A goat shall be slaughtered.'

      'It shall not,' said Eumides gently. 'We may not eat meat tonight, for we are under blood-guilt until dawn. Put off your sacrifice to the Underworld, men of Artemision. That would not please the Goddess. Instead, send men to the South Village, and buy grain and oil for us, also figs, wine and perhaps honey.'

      A wretched mule was brought. It was, however, healthier than its owners, due to its ability to eat grass. Diomenes gave the three men some coins, and they set out, wearily, the mule plodding behind them.

      'They are mountain-born, they will not fail and will return by morning,' the old man said. He touched Diomenes' sleeve, 'Lord, will you ask the Lady for us how we will fare?'

      'The Lady?'

      'Our Lady, the Hunter Artemis. She is travelling with you, like a mortal, for a time, for her own good purposes. She is just as the priests said; tall and proud with golden hair, and a glance to strike fear into men. The Divine Hunter, bent bow in hand; we knew her immediately. We are her faithful people.'

      Diomenes hesitated and Eumides said, 'If she wishes to speak, old man, she will speak. But I think that she is pleased with her reception into Artemision.'

      Cassandra inclined her head gravely. This was blasphemy and I wondered if I should tell them that she was an escaped slave of my father's. Eumides caught my eye and shot me a warning scowl. I went to find Orestes.

      He was in the first house. A woman so thin that her bones thrust against her tight-drawn skin was heating a little milk over a smoking dung fire. As I watched, she poured it into a clay dish, over the crumbled bread which my brother had given to the first child. The woman knelt down to distribute it, spoonful by precious, slow spoonful, to three children. They sat around her, mouths opening like little birds, and she wept as she fed them that she had no more to give.

      I collected my little brother and crept away. What was a little Goddess-impersonation to this suffering?

      The three men returned as promised. I woke abruptly, and the three lying together on the one mantle stirred.

      'Morning,' stated Diomenes, and Eumides buried his head in the Asclepid's shoulder and said, 'Again?' as he always did.

      'The men have returned,' I said from the doorway, 'bringing - how much did you ask them to buy?'

      The mule was sagging at the knees under many sacks and what an amphora of oil. The men were dragging a travois with more sacks. Diomenes joined me and gave a pleased grunt.

      'Yes, that should supply them until the first barley ripens. Come on, sailor, get up. Lady, perhaps you could pour some nice cold water on him.'

      'I'm up, barbarian! Well, this Artemision didn't try to rape us but it has the fiercest fleas in the Argolid.' He stripped off his tunic, captured the insect and cracked it between his nails. There was straw in his coal-black curls. He was a disgusting sight.

      'A picture of Trojan elegance,' commented Diomenes indulgently. 'Put on your tunic, you'll shock the Maiden. Let's go and examine the load. They've made a bargain almost as good as one of yours, Eumides.'

      'Those were authentic silver coins, not convincing tin,' he protested. 'You can't make a very good bargain with real money.'

      'You're a scoundrel,' said Cassandra fondly. 'I must speak to the village. Come with me.'

      She had let down her waist-length hair and she shone like gold as she walked into the square. She had dressed in a tunic and peplos, as Artemis is always drawn. Her strong arms were bare. Her eyes were grey. She looked like a Goddess.

      The voices, exclaiming at all that food, died away as she came. She walked to the very centre of the village and said, 'I am pleased with you, Artemision. You have made me welcome with all you had. Therefore I say: all will be well. The barley will grow. You will eat of my bounty until then. I require this of you; feed your women, for only thus will you breed strong sons.'

      She went into the little temple, came out bearing the cauldron full of nightshade broth, and poured it out on the ground. Eumides and Diomedes unloaded the produce and allotted one sack of grain and a little oil to each house. There was also a handful of figs and one dish of honey, and a measure of strong winter-wine. We would have enough bread to take us to Corinth once they had ground and baked our single sack of barley.

      Cassandra did not come back into the little house, but perched on the well-coping until the women, veils awry or missing in their excitement, carried their grain down to the grinding stones.

      Then she sat down as though she was used to such labour, and rolled the stone for each woman in turn, so that all the flour had been sanctified by the Goddess.

      'Artemision will never forget this,' I said, when she returned. Orestes was eager to watch his friend eat his first full meal and hall followed the women back to their houses.

      'True. They will feel strengthened