Extract from Medea, Queen of Athens

Alice Williams

This extract comes after Medea’s betrayal of her father and her failed marriage to Jason. Medea has since married Aegeus, the King of Athens, and become Queen at the Goddess Hera’s bequest. Medea’s son, Medus, is actually Jason’s, but Aegeus needs an heir and has not questioned Medus’s parentage. Due to Aegeus’s advanced age and ill-health, Medea has been running the Kingdom. In this extract, Athens is playing host to athletes from other kingdoms to compete in the Panathenaic Games. Their guest of honour is the prince of Crete, Androgeus, who is the son of King Minos.

What had started among the Athenians as a celebration of the founding of Athens had quickly become a competition for the strongest athletes in all of Greece to boast their skill and claim their prize. Men and boys travelled from far and wide to participate. Aegeus’s health had worsened and the day to day governing of the kingdom had largely fallen to me. I had overseen the preparations for the games and it was my latest task to prepare for the arrival of the fleet from Crete. The council had been quick to remind me of the importance of treating the Cretians with the utmost respect as King Minos’s eldest son, Androgeus, was now old enough to enter the games and would represent Crete in the boys’ races. 

I knew of Minos, of his tyrannical rule to rival my father’s. According to his own claim, he was the son of Zeus and ruled in much the same way. Having overthrown his two brothers, he remained the unchallenged ruler of Crete. There was no doubt Crete had flourished under his rule, thanks in part to the strength of their naval fleet. They had trade connections with nearly every kingdom and remained one of Athens’s closest allies, despite Minos’s self-serving temperament, which meant his son was to be our guest of honour. Minos’s marriage to my father’s sister, Pasiphaë, who had her own fearsome stories, only required more attention be given to the welcome of Androgeus. Minos and Pasiphaë would not be present at the games, which I was thankful for, but as the Queen of Athens and King Minos’s niece, I was expected to greet Androgeus personally.

I left Medus with his nurse and went to the throne room. The braziers were lit, illuminating the path to the throne at the far end of the chamber where Aegeus was already seated atop his throne. His servants had dressed him in a robe of vibrant red fastened with a brooch fashioned to resemble Athena’s Aegis. A scene of snakes slithering amongst an olive grove was embroidered along the hem of his tunic in gold thread. I took my seat next to him, carefully arranging my skirt so the pleats folded around my ankles. 

I had been dressed by my attendants that morning in finery I was not accustomed to wearing. A long peplos of deep purple had required the assistance of three servants to pleat and pin to perfection. Any blank expanse of my body had then been garnished in jewellery. Gold pins fastened my clothing at the shoulders and were designed to resemble olive branches. Anything that wasn’t pinned was held in place by arm bands of similar style, and bracelets of gold coiled up my forearms matching the snakes on my husband’s tunic. I had not worn such a lavish ensemble since I lived in Colchis, where I was but a prop to display my father’s wealth. While I found myself in the same position, dressed in such finery to welcome the prince of Crete, I was now a Queen and flaunting my own wealth. A diadem of gold sat comfortably atop my head where my attendants had arranged my hair in coils around so naturally it appeared to be part of my body. 

I reached for Aegeus’s hand as I settled onto my throne without needing to look at him, feeling the slender bones of each finger as I laced mine with his. He always sat in the same regal pose with his hands resting on the arms of his throne, his blank gaze fixed forwards. He hadn’t the energy for much else. His appearance was a rare one those days, but it was required to welcome the prince of Crete. 

The guards positioned at the entrance to the room announced the arrival of prince Androgeus and the rest of the fleet, and a procession of men and boys were led in from the megaron. There were around twenty men and ten boys and about half as many attendants carrying gifts from King Minos. Amphorae were gifted to my husband as the procession reached the dais. I glimpsed the painting on the jars as they passed between the Cretian attendants to our own. Each jar sported a likeness of King Minos in battle armour, flanked by his strongest weapon. A depiction of a child’s body with the head of a raging bull, nostrils flared and horns tapered to a point, loomed behind him: the Minotaur.

Androgeus approached the dais. As Crete’s prince, despite being twelve-years-old, he was their ambassador. It surprised me how much Androgeus resembled my brother. They had both inherited the divine traits from our immortal parents. He had the same round eyes the colour of honey and dark smooth hair my brother had, except Androgeus had tied his hair back with a headband of entwining blue and gold cord fastened about his forehead and the sash of his robes was pinned with a brooch carrying the crest of Crete, an embossed portrait of his father framed with a labyrinthine border, instead of the symbol of Colchis. He even carried himself like my brother, with the carefree arrogance only a young boy who is unaware of his mortality can have. 

I had not thought about Absyrtus since he had died. So much had happened all at once, I’d had no time for sentimentality. I had forged a life for myself, one which had accrued power and security, and in my peace, I was reminded of my past grief. My brother’s death was a necessary one but not one that did not warrant grieving. 

Androgeus knelt in front of Aegeus and myself, his head bowed in reverence to the King and Queen of Athens. 

‘Your majesties. Cousin,’ he said to me with a boyish grin. ‘It is my deepest honour to be here, welcomed into your kingdom. You are my gracious hosts and I in turn intend to be your gracious guest. It will be my pleasure to compete in your games and prove myself a worthy contender.’

He was young, only just old enough to compete, yet he spoke wisely. Or perhaps he had been coached on what to say when he arrived at the palace and his confidence was nothing but a rehearsal. 

‘For decades, our games welcomed only the citizens of Athens…’ Aegeus reminisced. Androgeus’s confident demeanour faltered. Had my husband meant to insult our guest or me? I had demanded my presence be accepted at the games; women had never previously been permitted to attend, either as spectators or competitors. Now Athens had a Queen at last, my attendance at the games had extended an invitation to all the women of Athens. I was introducing change, change my husband in his ill-health had not approved. Perhaps he was more attuned to the goings on in the palace than I gave him credit for, but what could he do? He was too ill to leave his chambers most days. If he wanted to contest my orders to the council, he could not.

‘And we are delighted our traditions have gained such popularity that we may share them with our allies from neighbouring kingdoms.’ I hastened to finish my husband’s sentence in a way I was sure he would not have continued but that put Androgeus at ease once more. 

He rose to his feet, his confidence returning, and said, ‘Then it will be my pleasure to participate in your noble tradition and prove myself a worthy participant.’

I called for an attendant to show Androgeus and the other athletes from Crete to their chambers. We had decided days beforehand where to host our guests from overseas and had chosen to house each fleet in a chamber leading off the megaron so in the evenings the celebration may continue in the central chamber of the palace. The fleet were lead away and only Aegeus and I remained in the throne room. I squeezed his hand to remind him I was there. He didn’t squeeze mine back, nor did he say anything. He simply sat and stared ahead at where the Cretian fleet had assembled before him, as if they were still there.

‘You look tired, my love.’ I’d fallen quite easily into the role of the dutiful wife which had surprised even myself but when it came with the title of Queen and the ability to rule in the stead of my elderly husband, I did not mind it as much as being married to Jason. ‘Shall I call for an attendant to escort you back to your chambers?’

‘I don’t need your help,’ he said gruffly, trying to shake his hand free of mine but he was unable. I unlaced my fingers from his and sat with my hands in my lap. He made no further attempt to move his hand from where it rested on the arm of his throne. ‘I am a king and I will sit on my throne as long as I like and no one shall remove me.’

‘Of course, my dear.’ I sat on the throne next to him for a moment longer but Aegeus showed no sign of movement nor of making further conversation, so I rose and said, ‘There are still things requiring my attention in preparation of tomorrow’s games. Shall I bring Medus to your chambers before dinner?’

He nodded his head slowly, barely making any movement if it weren’t for the billowing of his loose robes. He did not have much attention for ruling these days but he always had time for Medus. Hera had been right. He had been without an heir for so long that he hadn’t questioned why his son was born after only eight months of our marriage. Some children came early, perhaps that was reason enough not to question it.

‘Very well,’ I said, and made to leave. His hand reached up to clasp mine as I passed him and when he could not find me, I took his hand and brought it to my lips. My second marriage may not have been for love but I had come to care for Aegeus as one might care for a dear friend. He was a good man and I pitied him to have reached such an old age and to not have any family to support him or to leave his kingdom to. He loved my son and would leave his crown to him when he died. That made him a good father and a worthy husband. ‘Have someone send for me if you need. I will make sure everything goes smoothly.’ I reassured him, although there was really no need. It was a friendly sporting competition, there was little to go wrong.

*

The games commenced the following day, with the first day of the festival dedicated to revelry. Musicians competed in a festival of music and dance held at the palace, each taking it in turns to reel off an elaborate rhapsody dedicated to the glory of the gods and triumphant battles long since passed. Each grew more and more ludicrous as the competition escalated. When a victor was awarded fifty carafes of wine, it was deemed too much for one victorious man to drink on his own, and shared out amongst his fellow competitors. The night descended into laughter and drunken debauchery.

The boys’ races began the next day, which Androgeus would be competing in. All the citizens of Athens gathered in the stadium, the great ravine of tiered stands filled with eager spectators as the would-be champions assembled in the grounds below. Aegeus and I took our seats on a dais at the bottom of the stands with a view of the races directly in front of us. I had instructed Medus’s nurse to bring him to the games. The event was beloved throughout Athens and the heir to the throne should be present, even if he was four-years-old and more interested in squirming out of his mother’s arms to run amok than he was in sitting still and being admired by his future subjects.

I sat with Medus wriggling on my lap and watched beside Aegeus as the competitors in the youths’ footrace took their places at the starting line. I smoothed Medus’s hair down, brushing it out of his eyes, and readjusted him on my lap so he could watch the race. 

‘Look, they’re about to run the race,’ I explained to Medus as I took both his hands in mine and pointed them to the track to get him to watch the race and stop pawing at my hair. ‘Watch. You like running, you’ll like to watch this.’

‘I don’t like running,’ he whined and twisted around in my lap, somehow managing to turn himself upside down. 

‘Yes, you do,’ I said and coaxed him around to sit upright again. ‘You like running away from your nurse.’ At that, he smiled. ‘Don’t you?’ I bounced him up and down on my knee and he grinned. ‘They’re taking their places now, see?’ I pointed to the track as the boys bent down and waited for the starting signal.

And they were off, all scrambling to get ahead. Androgeus was fast and though he was younger than the other competitors, he was pushing ahead with ease. I watched along with Medus who had stopped fussing for just long enough to watch as Androgeus crossed the finish line, ahead of the other boys, beating the runner up by an ankles’ length. He was congratulated by the others with pats on the back and affectionate headlocks. The games were a celebratory affair rather than a cutthroat competition. Perhaps if they were competing for honour, they would bear a grudge against Androgeus as the victor but the winner at the Panathenaic Games was awarded gifts of physical value. It being a celebration of Athena, naturally the prize for the foot race was an amphora of olive oil. 

‘He was fast, wasn’t he?’ I asked Medus, holding him up to see the victor receiving his prize. Medus pressed his cheek to mine and nodded, nuzzling his head against mine.

‘Am I fast?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. Do you think you could run in the race?’

‘Yes, and I’d come first!’

‘Really? Well, you need to be twelve to enter this race so you’ve got a while yet to wait.’ I blew a raspberry on his cheek and he giggled, worming his chubby arms out of my grasp to rub at the side of his face. ‘What about javelin? Do you think you’d be any good at that? That’s what the next competition is.’

‘What’s javeling?’

‘Javelin. It’s a throwing competition. Watch and you’ll see how it’s done.’

The boys who had finished the race were allowed a few minutes to recover before they were up to compete in the javelin throw. It hadn’t occurred to me before seeing the boys pick up javelins far taller than them how far the games resembled war. It should have come as no surprise given the games were in honour of Athena, a war goddess. These games had evolved to become more than a symbol of unity within Athens, but also between the kingdoms who sent their own citizens to compete. Recreating war games was a way to avoid war; while still competing and appointing a victor there was no need for bloodshed, loss and destruction.

I explained what was happening to Medus as we watched the boys take it in turns to draw back their javelin, take a few steps to propel themselves forward as they arched their arms upwards, and launch it as far through the air as they could. Medus was hypnotised by the whistling arc of the javelin as it left the boys’ hands and hurtled through the air, landing which a thwack as it stuck in the ground. He beamed and clapped after each one. 

After one boy had thrown his javelin, the distance was recorded and the boy allowed to retrieve it so if the contestant after him through their javelin and it landed in the same spot, it would land correctly and their throw would be valid. A javelin needed to land tip first for its score to be counted. The boys took it in turns to throw and retrieve their javelins until Androgeus was up. 

The crowd cheered for their most recent victor in the footrace as he took his mark. He drew back a practice swing, the javelin kept taut by his side, the wooden pole flush to the groove of his cheek bone as he arched his arm forward without yet letting go. He did this two then three times more and when he was satisfied with his line up, he took a few steps backward and began his running leap, launching the javelin into the air a hair’s length before his feet crossed the throwing mark. It sailed through the air, propelled much faster and farther than all the previous competitors’ throws, and it struck the ground firmly, setting the record to beat. The stands erupted into cheers. It did not matter that he was a boy from Crete and not an Athenian. The boys’ games marked prowess in sports, the celebration of emerging athletes, and Androgeus had proved himself a worthy contender indeed. 

I had taken a liking to the boy since seeing him compete. He was an able athlete and after seeing his success in two challenges he was in for a chance of winning the most victories, emerging triumphant as the day’s overall winner. He jogged ahead to retrieve his javelin and had either left it too late, waving up at the stands, basking too long in their cheering before running onto the pitch, or the next contestant had thrown too early, for just as he clasped the wooden pole with both hands and withdrew it from the ground, a second javelin was launched through the air and with expert precision would have landed in the same exact spot Androgeus’s had landed in had the boy not still been standing in its path. He turned around too late to notice he was in mortal peril. The javelin speared him through the chest, pinning him to the ground. 

The stadium fell silent. The boy was clearly dead. Anyone could see, even from the top most tier of the stadium. The impact of the javelin had brought him to his knees but the way it had landed pinned him upright, back arched and arms falling limply behind him. His own javelin, having slipped from his hands, lay flat on the ground. His neck hung backwards at an unnatural angle, his headband had been knocked off. The child was dead. There was no denying it.

No one moved. No one knew what to do. The games had only just begun. There was a full week’s schedule still to come before the games concluded, the men’s races had not even started, and the boys who had yet to compete in the javelin throw stood motionless on the pitch unsure of how to proceed. The poor child who had delivered the fatal throw had retreated into the congregation of boys still waiting to compete, perhaps to conceal his identity as a killer or to avoid the confrontation of Androgeus’s speared body.  

The body needed to be removed from the pitch. The stands were beginning to come to life again. Hushed chatter rippled through the stands. Aegeus continued to sit in his chair, staring blankly ahead at the pitch, seemingly unaware that anything out of the ordinary had happened. I wanted to keep it that way. The whole of Athens had congregated in the stadium to watch the games; there was no stopping the news spreading that a boy had been killed, that the prince of Crete had died while under the care of the King of Athens. If Aegeus had realised, it would have been a problem. He was infirm and unpredictable. If he was aware of the precarity of the situation Athens now found herself in, it would be all the more difficult to manage. The King would have to be sent back to the palace and something would need to be done about Crete.

Ignoring his fussing, I handed Medus to his nurse and instructed he be sent back to the palace along with the King. A decree would be issued: the rest of the games would be cancelled in light of the tragedy that had befallen Athens and her ally. The kingdom would go into mourning in solidarity with Crete. I then called over an attendant to instruct them to remove Androgeus’s body from the grounds and take it to the palace but to make sure that it was guarded. 

‘No one is to enter the chamber with the body, neither Athenian nor Cretian, until I have allowed otherwise. After you have done this, assemble the council.’

Crete would have to find out from us and we would need to break the news delicately. Minos had sent his eldest son and heir to Athens to stay at the palace and compete in our games. He had been under Athens’s protection. Worst of all he had been under my protection, as both Queen and the boy’s family. If I’d learnt anything from my brother’s death, it was that fathers rarely take the loss of their eldest son’s life lightly. Minos would be out for blood to bring justice to his son. If we could not assuage Minos’s fury, Athens’s closest ally may well become her fiercest enemy. Minos was a man of high pride and terrible vengeance. He would retaliate and how we would ever achieve peace again with Crete, I dreaded to think.