In my heart of hearts, I know that I must work out the curse of my house, and pay my actions with ruin and suffering. Yet never in my life did I wish to harm my brother, but there was no way to convince him out of this. What were his words again? That I’d have better luck convincing the morning tides not to break?
It took us over a week to ride back to Argos since we rode carefully, always on the lookout for bandits and assassins. Surprisingly, nothing eventful happened on our way. No assassins, no bandits, no nothing. The most exciting thing that happened was that brother almost slipped when filling water from a river, he didn’t even slip, just almost slipped. We laughed about his lack of balance, and for a few moments, it felt as if we were boys again. Oh how I miss those years.
Eventually we arrive at Argos, the city of my birth, and the home that I have left so long ago. I know that travelers often speak of their longing for home, but for some reason I felt no such longing. I guess it’s because most of the good memories I held were with Py, and Electra… My heart ached at the thought of my sister, and then I felt shame for almost forgetting about her. When was the last time I thought of her? A week, a month, a year? While I was enjoying my time with brother, it must have certainly been terrible for her, to be stuck with mother and her lover, then to see father murdered.
At the thought of father, my stomach churned. I had no idea what I was supposed to feel about the man. I felt little love for there was little of him in my memories, adding the fact that he murdered my sister, it hard not for me to feel indifferent to his death. Yet it is a son’s sacred duty to defend his honor. Then there is mother, a woman that I am sure that I still loved, though for what reason I cannot say. She has tried to kill me not once, but twice, and those are only the attempts that I was aware of. I feel that I have all the reasons to kill her, yet the laws of the gods forbid it.
I was pulled out of my thought my brother’s voice. “We are here, Ore,” he said, “remember the plan?”
“Yes,” I responded, with determination. Our plan was simple, and takes advantage of the fact that mother has sent assassins for me. We would go to the city gates, and declare that I was dead, killed by an assassin near Delphi, but that the assassin died in the struggle as well. I have been cremated, and now my urn was being brought back to my home to be buried in our family grave alongside father.
It was unlikely that any of the guards would recognize me after these eight long years, and when we have an audience with mother and her lover, we will kill them. As diplomats from a friendly state, we would be allowed to carry our weapons. Whatever happens after this … well, I guess brother and I would need to improvise. Thinking about it now, it was a pretty bad plan, though it was the best we can do when riding on the road and suffering from lack of good sleep.
We arrived at the city gates, and as the guards approached, Py spoke. “My name is Iason, and here is my companion Dimitris. We are messengers from the court of King Strophius. Orestes, the son of the Queen Clytemnestra and the late king Agamemnon, is dead by assassin’s hands. We bring his ashes in urn, in hopes that his soul should rest peacefully with his ancestors. Here are our papers.”
Py showed the guards the official papers that he forged. I knew that the guardsman couldn’t read, but he made a good effort at pretending and inspecting the seal.
“Right this way,” he said, and led us into the city and the palace.
We were sitting quietly in a waiting room when sounds of wailing come. There was a muffled but energetic conversation coming from the doors behind us.
“I am sorry my lady, but these two are waiting for the Queen.”
“I do not care, he was my brother! I swear by the gods if you do not move aside this very second I shall…”
The guard must have moved aside, for before the speaker could finish her sentence, the door behind us opened loudly. I turned around and there she was, Electra. Time and age have treated her well, for the last time I saw her she was but a girl. Now, she is a woman, standing strong, tall, confident, yet in great grief. She did not instantly recognize me, but as she came closer, I smiled and realization dawned her face in surprise.
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Then she wept openly and embraced me in a hug, almost like the way I did her eight years ago when I was to leave. Except this time, I am coming back. Before I could out a single word, she looked up with teary eyes and spoke. “Your face is my father’s face. All, all is yours. The love I owed my father who is dead. The love I might have given to my mother, and my poor sister cruelly doomed to die. All yours now, only yours.”
I suddenly had no words, and only continued to hug her.
“What is this?” came a voice roughly. I looked up and there was Aegisthus, the man whom I hated. Besides him the guard stood with his mouth open, socked by the revelation. Aegisthus had a sword by his side, and he reached for it. My own sword was by my side, yet my sister was in the way, and surely the guards would come to Aegisthus’ aid. This wasn’t looking good. Yet before his sword was out, brother was there. His strike straight and true, right through that devil's heart. Not a word came before he fell dead.
We looked at the guard, who looked uncertain holding his weapon. Behind him, his comrades looked equally unsure of what to do. I spoke. “The rightful King of Argos is back, blessed by the Oracle of Apollo. Crimes of yesterday must now be answered for by blood. Move aside, or lead me to the chamber of the criminal, for otherwise you stand in the way of divine justice.”
The guards looked stunned, then one dropped his weapon, and the other followed. Py gestured for one of the older ones to lead the way, and we followed him. While hurriedly walking, I looked to my sister beside me. “She told me appease the angry dead,” I say “Yet the cursed criminal I am to become, for such there is no home, no refuge anywhere. No altar fire burns for him, no friends greet him. He dies alone and vile. But yet, but yet the deed is to be done and I must do it.”
“Perhaps no friend shall greet him,” Ele said, “but he shall have a sister to accompany him.”
“And a brother too,” Py added, “and there they shall have a home unto their own.”
I knew not what else to say was we made our way through the hallways. Servants who saw the blood on brother’s sword and the way sister hugged at me knew at sight what was happening. They scurried out of the way, and when we neared mother’s chambers there were shouts in the air. “Treason! Our master! Treason! Orestes – alive – here!”
Py kicked the door open, and there mother stood. In a dress of white, a perfect contrast to her dark rotten heart. Age has not treated her well, unlike sister. There were signs of fatigue and worry on her face, if she had been tortured for nights by unstopping nightmares. She held an axe, which she dropped when she saw me. Her features softened, and in a soft voice she spoke.
“Stop, my son,” she said, “Look – my breast, the place that you were once fed as a babe, many a time. Here, on my lap where your heavy head would always drop and sleep. You baby mouth, where never a tooth was, sucked the milk, and so you grew…”
I knew what she was doing, but I couldn’t stop myself from listening. “Ah! Pylades,” I shouted, drowning out mother’s voice “she is my mother, may I spare…”
‘No,” He replied sternly “Apollo has commanded, and so the god must be obeyed.”
“But beyond the laws of the gods there is the eternal law of the right! I cannot possibly bring myself to…” I stopped my sentence, for I see that mother held a gleaming dagger which plunged towards Py. His guard was down and I knew that he would not be able to dodge such a strike. But my sword was up while I was wailing and without hesitation I strike.
The sword torn through flesh with barely a sound.
Mother fell.
My sword fell.
Py leaped back, I looked at him. He was unharmed, but there were blood coming out of his eyes. His features looked decayed, and involuntarily I took a step back.
“Ore?” it was my sister’s voice, I turned to her. But instead of my sister I saw a wicked demon, a shadow of pure evil. The pushed past them into the hallway, and everywhere I looked were shadows and images of the dead. I entered the courtyard, it was full of people, or rather, shadows. But among the masses were three winged monstrosities – the furies.
“The man is dead, and I am not guilty there!” I begged. “He had to die. But she, did she do it or did she not? Gods, friends, fellow men, I beg of you. I say I killed my mother – yet it was not without reason – she was vile and she killed my father and she tried to kill me and my brother and the gods hated her!”
I felt hands on my shoulder, and heard the voices of my brother and sister comforting me. I dared not to turn for I feared what I would see. “Look! Look!” I shouted, “Demons, shadows. Black, all back, with tendrils like snakes!”
“It’s in your head,” they told me. “There is nothing,” they told me. Perhaps they were right. But I loved them, and there was no way I would let them endure this with me. So I ran, out of the palace and out of the city. At first, I could hear brother chasing me, but he was never as good a runner as I, and soon his voices faded behind me. All that was left were the screams of the dead and the beating wings of the furies.