It was no use trying to get a word in. My sister had made up her mind: “You never pick up a spindle unless someone makes you do it, and I’ve never seen you having a lesson at the big loom. As for learning how to make medicines from Mother—” She made a scornful sound. “I feel sorry for Sparta when you’re queen. What are you going to do? Tell your husband and the rest of the court that they can wrap your beauty around them to keep warm and well all winter?
“I made Father a long tunic,” she went on. “I made it myself, start to finish, from carding the wool to weaving the cloth to embroidering a pattern of waves on the sleeves. When I gave it to him, I told him I chose waves because Aphrodite was born from the sea and I knew how much he loved her. Do you know what he said to me then?” Clytemnestra’s eyes narrowed. “He said, ‘What a lucky man I am to have one daughter who’s as clever as Athena and another who’s as beautiful as Aphrodite!’ Even when you did nothing, even when you weren’t there, he praised you!”
She threw down her carding combs and swept into the shadows of the palace, leaving me standing like a statue in the courtyard, all my wishes for her future happiness unsaid.
The ambassador from Mykenae stayed with us for ten days. The night before he left, Father gave a great banquet to honor him and to celebrate Clytemnestra’s betrothal. Ione helped me get ready for the feast, picking out my dress, fussing over my hair, and chattering away the whole time.
“Ah, look at how well you’ve healed in just ten days’ time!” she exclaimed, examining my feet before slipping them into my best pair of sandals. It was true: The gash on my foot was almost gone. I only needed one thin strip of cloth to cover it. “You must have made a good sacrifice to Aesculapius the Healer.”
She straightened up and began to arrange my hair. As much as I wanted to dress and groom myself, Ione refused. As my nurse, she’d get the credit or blame for how I looked at the banquet.
“What lovely curls!” she said, working diligently with the ivory comb. “That Mykenaean will have to fill his mouth with gold when he describes you to his master, Lord Thyestes.”
“Why would he need to do that?” I asked.
My nursemaid chuckled. “Do you imagine that your sister’s marrying the only prince of Mykenae? Lord Thyestes has plenty of sons, and his royal brother, Atreus, has at least two that I know of. Those Mykenaeans breed like rabbits.”
I giggled, then clapped my hands to my mouth. “Ione, what an awful thing to say!” I exclaimed, still laughing.
“Well, no one can deny it. I only pray that your sister’s getting a good man. With a family that large, there’s bound to be at least one rotten apple on the tree. If even half the stories I’ve heard about the kings of Mykenae are true—”
“What stories?” Mother had stopped Polydeuces before he could tell me anything.
“I really shouldn’t say a word; nasty things.” She put down the comb and began to weave a strand of freshwater pearls through my hair.
I turned around quickly and grabbed her hands. “Please tell me, Ione. I promise I won’t repeat anything. You won’t get into trouble for telling me.”
“Hmph! There’s no chance of that unless you come right out and mention my name. Everyone knows about those Mykenaeans.”
“I don’t. And I think I should; my sister is going to be their queen.” I gave her my most persuasive smile, the one I’d used since babyhood whenever I wanted to get her to bend the rules for me, just a little.
“Oh, all right.” She gave in easily. I think she wanted to tell me all the tales. “But turn around and sit still or you’ll never be ready for the feast tonight, and then I will be in trouble. Your sister is marrying Lord Thyestes’s oldest son, but that man wasn’t always king of Mykenae. At first his brother, Lord Atreus, ruled.”
She made a small scornful sound. “Brothers. Not all brothers are like yours, my dear; I helped raise Castor and Polydeuces, so I know. They may quarrel and scuffle, but it’s all quickly over and forgotten. There’s true affection and loyalty binding those two. If they were stones in a wall, you couldn’t fit a knife blade between them.
“But Atreus and Thyestes—! I’ve heard they hate one another as fiercely as if they came from separate sides of the earth instead of from the same mother’s womb. They both want Mykenae, and so they’ve spent their lives fighting and scheming and betraying one another in order to seize the throne. Back and forth it’s gone—first Atreus was king, then Thyestes, then Atreus again—and every time the crown changes hands, it’s stained with fresh blood. I heard that Lord Atreus even killed his own wife, a Cretan princess, because she dared to smile at his brother!”
“Just for smiling at him?” I couldn’t believe it.
Ione coughed nervously. “Well, perhaps she did more than smile. But that’s nothing. The worst is this: I heard that Lord Atreus actually killed some of his brother’s children, then ordered their flesh cooked and served it to their own father! Lord Thyestes didn’t suspect a thing until after that abominable meal, when Atreus showed him their heads.”
For someone who hadn’t wanted to tell me one word about the Mykenaeans, Ione was taking unnatural glee in repeating one grisly horror after another.
“What kind of a family is my sister marrying into?” I cried, jerking my head out from under Ione’s busy hands.
My nurse seemed unconcerned with Clytemnestra’s future among such people. “Tsk. Now look what you’ve done, torn the pearls loose and mussed your curls. I’ll have to start all over.”
“But Clytemnestra can’t marry a monster!” I protested.
“Oh, hush,” Ione said calmly, taking up the comb again. “Prince Tantalus never harmed anyone, and as for the stories about his father and uncle—I’m sure they’re only stories. Do you think your royal parents would give their darling girl to Mykenae if the tales were true?
“Of course, you won’t have that problem, little bird,” she went on. “As our queen-to-be, you’ll pick yourself a good husband.”