The Outcast by Laura Gill

Author:Laura Gill [Gill, Laura]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

“To Pylades Strophides, regent of Mycenae and dear kinsman: greetings. I am writing to you in my own hand to inform you about the Pythia’s decree concerning my fate.” Holding the stylus tightly in order to form the words, I felt as rigid and inflexible as the grammar I was employing. “A few weeks from now, I will descend as a supplicant into a secret place under the earth, where the local priestesses say the Mother of the Mountains and the Erinyes dwell, and there undergo my ordeal. I know only that it will last a day and night; no other particulars have been divulged to me, except that priests have said that not many miscreants survive this test.” Miscreant. Yes, Eurymakos had used that word, and with some glee. “Therefore, I must prepare for the worst, while praying for the best.

“Should I die during this attempt at absolution, this letter will serve as a legal testament to my final wishes. You are not obligated to furnish me with a tomb or grave goods, or otherwise concern yourself with the dispensation of my mortal remains, as the priests of Delphi have already told me they will cremate me, so the fire may purify my flesh; they will scatter the ashes. My only request, my kinsman and brother, is that you pour out a libation of wine or oil, to provide a suitable offering for the ferryman on my journey to the hereafter.”

I did not hesitate in setting down my last wishes; my only trepidation was in thinking about them. “In the event of my untimely death, may Zeus Horkios and the guardian goddesses Hera and Athena bear witness to the words of Orestes Agamemnonides: that my estates, my slaves, my livestock, the product of my workshops and storerooms, my scepter, and the hereditary rights to all my dominions shall pass to my sister Elektra, to be administered by her husband Pylades Strophides, prince of Phocis, on behalf of my nephews, my sister-sons Strophius and Medon. From these holdings, a suitable portion shall be set aside as a dowry for my sister Chrysothemis, against such time as she wishes to marry or enter a sanctuary as a consecrated priestess.”

There was no need to add any personal observations; he would understand without my having to elaborate. Rather, it was Elektra who would demand more, who would snatch the letter from her husband’s hands, slowly parse it hoping to discover some direct message for her, and beat her breast because there was none. Cruel though it might be, it was better not to address her, lest it sharpen her grief when the time came.

The ink dried quickly in the hot summer air, allowing me to fold the papyrus so it could be sealed. I regretted not having Agamemnon’s double-lion seal or my personal lion-mauling-goat seal to stamp into the wax; it meant the high priest was able to pry into my correspondence, and decide whether or not he deemed the message worthy of the god’s Delphic seal.

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