Elektra by Jennifer Saint
About The Book
Another beautifully lyrical retelling from Jennifer Saint, the Sunday Times bestselling author of Ariadne.
The House of Atreus is cursed. A bloodline tainted by a generational cycle of violence and vengeance. This is the story of three women, their fates inextricably tied to this curse, and the fickle nature of men and gods.
Clytemnestra
The sister of Helen, wife of Agamemnon – her hopes of averting the curse are dashed when her sister is taken to Troy by the feckless Paris. Her husband raises a great army against them, and determines to win, whatever the cost.
Cassandra
Princess of Troy, and cursed by Apollo to see the future but never to be believed when she speaks of it. She is powerless in her knowledge that the city will fall.
Elektra
The youngest daughter of Clytemnestra and Agamemnon, Elektra is horrified by the bloodletting of her kin. But, can she escape the curse, or is her own destiny also bound by violence?
For Alex
Acknowledgements
I knew that writing a second novel is often notoriously difficult, but Elektra was also written throughout a global pandemic and repeated lockdowns, which added an extra level of challenge. It really wouldn’t have happened without the support I had from so many people.
Firstly, my agent, Juliet Mushens, who loved the novel from the first draft and made me believe in it, too. Thank you also for suggesting the title! Also, thank you to the whole Mushens Entertainment team who are a glorious, leopard-print dream of brilliant women.
To my editors, Kate Stephenson and Caroline Bleeke: you understood exactly what this book needed to be before I did and I’m so deeply grateful for all of your insight and perception. You make the editing process so rewarding and completely transformative.
Thank you to everyone at Wildfire and Flatiron for your faith, encouragement and tireless work. I’m so proud to be published by you! Thanks especially to Alex Clarke, Ella Gordon and Serena Arthur.
An enormous thank you to the designers of my book covers, Joanne O’Neill and Micaela Alcaino, who have created such incredibly beautiful artwork. I am so in awe of your talent.
I was staggered by the energy and enthusiasm of everyone working on the publicity and marketing for Ariadne – thank you so much to Amelia Possanza, Caitlin Raynor, Lucie Sharpe and Vicky Beddow for making it so exciting to launch a novel in a pandemic!
Thank you to the Rights Team and to all of my publishers, translators and readers across the world. To have my novels translated and read in so many countries is so unbelievably wonderful to me, and I hope that I can come and see them for myself in the future.
The booksellers, book-bloggers, readers and reviewers who have championed Ariadne have been so incredible. Thank you so, so much to every single one of you, your enthusiasm and support have meant the absolute world to me. I’ll single out Dan Bassett for a special mention, as I don’t think he let anyone leave the store without buying a copy. Thanks, Dan! Also to Waterstones in Leeds who have always held a special place in my heart – it’s been such a pleasure to come in and see my book in your window and on your shelves, thank you for being so welcoming.
I’m so grateful to the Classics community online and, in particular, to the brilliant podcasters Liv Albert of Let’s Talk About Myths, Baby and Genn McMenemy and Jenny Williamson of Ancient History Fangirl. I listened to so many episodes throughout lockdowns, shutting myself in the kitchen with a glass of wine and a jigsaw and being inspired, educated and endlessly entertained by you after a long day of juggling writing with home-schooling. Getting to actually be a guest on both was such a highlight of the publishing experience!
The 2021 Debut Writers’ group has been amazing and I am so thankful to Kate Sawyer for setting it up and to all the authors who have been so supportive. Thank you, Elodie Harper, for your friendship and all the events we have done together which have been such a joy.
My Northern women writers’ group have been the best support in this very strange year. Bee Barker Horton and Steph Pomfrett – the yoga, the letters, the socks, the Zoom calls and the cheerleading have all been the brightest light, and I can’t wait for the world to find out how incredibly talented you both are.
Jo Murricane, superstar photographer and friend, thank you for all the website help, drinking gin and champagne together and sharing all the many home-school woes.
Thank you to all of my family, my lovely nephews and niece in particular! Evan, Luke, Thomas, Eoin and Thea – thanks for being excited for me, for all the quizzes and for being so brilliant. Thanks to Sally, Gabriel, Catherine, Alan, Lucy, Tim, Gemma, Steve and Lynne for everything.
To my parents, Tom and Angela, words will never express all of my gratitude and my love.
Alex, Ted and Joseph, you make anything possible, and everything I write is for you, always.
‘I know my own passion, it escapes me not . . . but never will I cease from sore lament, while I look on the trembling rays of the bright stars, or on this light of day . . . For if the hapless dead lie in dust and nothingness, while the slayers pay not with blood for blood, all regard for man, all fear of heaven will vanish from the earth.’
– Elektra, The Tragedies of Sophocles, translated by Richard Claverhouse Jebb, 1904
Prologue
Elektra
Mycenae is silent, but I can’t sleep tonight. Down the corridor, I know that my brother will have kicked away his blankets. Every morning when I go in to rouse him, he has them in a wild tangle about his legs as though he has been running a race in his sleep. Maybe he runs after our father, the man he has never met.
When I was born, it was our father who named me. He named me for the sun: fiery and incandescent. He’d told me that when I was a little girl: that I was the light of our family. ‘Your aunt’s beauty is famed, but you’re far more radiant than her already. You’ll bring more glory to the House of Atreus, my daughter.’ And then he’d kiss me on my forehead before he set me down. I didn’t mind the tickle of his beard. I believed what he said.
Now, I don’t care about the lack of suitors clamouring in our throne room for me. I’ve heard the stories about my aunt Helen, and have never felt envy. Look at where her beauty led her. All the way to a foreign city that has held our men for ten years. Ten years that I have lived without my father, clinging to every victory related to us by messengers who pass through Mycenae. News of each triumph gives me a surge of pride, of elation, that it is my father, Agamemnon, who has fought for so long, and who rallies his men to fight on until the towering walls of Troy crumble into rubble beneath their conquering feet.
I see it all the time, in my mind’s eye. How he will storm the gates of the city; how they will fall cowering at his feet at last. And after it all, he will come home to me. His loyal daughter, waiting here for him as year after year passes.
I know that some people will say he never loved his children, that he couldn’t have done, given what he did. But I remember the feel of his arms around me and the steady beat of his heart against my ear, and I know there will never be a safer place in this world for me than that.
I have always wanted to grow up to be the woman he thought I would become, the woman I could have been, if only he had been able to stay. To live up to the name he gave me.