Dido (11 page)

‘Yes,' Dido answered. ‘Grief. That's it exactly. As though the object of your love had died. I know all about grief, Iopas. My first husband, my beloved
Sychaeus – he died. Did you know that? He was butchered by my brother. Can you imagine anything so terrible? My love, lying on the floor of our bedchamber with blood bubbling out of his throat, his eyes like the eyes of a dead fish on a marble slab. I couldn't stay. I couldn't touch him – the man whose every word used to fill me with happiness, the taste of whose lips had been a kind of divine nourishment for me. I ran away. I woke my sister and my servants and we fled like robbers. Till I came to Carthage I didn't know a moment's peace, and even here, though there were many who helped me and were kind to us, though I was occupied with the building of the city, my heart . . .'

Dido made a fist of her hand and struck herself below her left breast, over and over again, till Iopas wondered whether he ought to stop her. Take hold of her arms and prevent her from hurting herself. Surely she would be bruised from such blows? He started up from the stone bench, and the queen smiled suddenly.

‘I can see you're worried, Iopas. You think I might harm myself in my sorrow. Well, I might, and I wouldn't care if I did, and neither should you. But you're a gallant soul. I knew that when I chose you to be the court singer. I was right to do so. I'm very satisfied with all your work. All the songs . . .'

‘I hope I may write many more for you, madam,' Iopas said.

‘I'll come to that.' Dido smiled at him. ‘But I want to
know: those first few days after Aeneas arrived on our shores – how well do you remember them?'

‘As if they'd just happened.'

‘Tell me. Tell me your memories.'

Iopas took a deep breath. Was there anything he should avoid saying? He hadn't been entirely honest with the queen. It was true: he
could
summon up a fair amount from those days (which, after all, were only two summers ago), but there was sure to be much that he'd forgotten, and maybe those were exactly the things the queen wanted to revisit. Well, hesitating wasn't going to help him. He had to say something.

‘The whole palace was like a busy market, that's what I remember. So many people bringing things to the kitchen. Suddenly we seemed to need a great deal more food.'

‘Thirty people. That's not a couple of unexpected guests, is it? After the first few nights we found quarters for most of the men with families in the city, who were happy to have them. I paid, of course, for their food and board. It's amazing how much you can achieve with gold. But Aeneas . . .'

‘You gave orders that he was to be put in the main guest bedchamber. Your sister brought in extra seamstresses to embroider the linens and window drapes. I think she worked on the more delicate pieces herself.'

Iopas didn't want to dwell too long on the sewing room. In those days Anna had been in the habit of summoning him there just as the sun was setting, saying that her work would be much easier if he sang
to her as she sewed. That was a pretext. Iopas knew her real reason for wanting to get him on his own, and avoiding being caught by her in an embrace took a great deal of manoeuvring. Once, he'd not been quite quick enough and found that Anna had placed herself between him and the door as he was on his way out, and she'd actually put her arms around him and pressed herself against him, and her lips were on his before he knew it, and what was he meant to do? He was only human, and she was pleasant and he liked her and her mouth tasted good and he responded for a moment and allowed himself to hug her back and kiss her rather more enthusiastically than he ought to have done. ‘Oh, Iopas,' she'd breathed. ‘I knew it. I knew you had a fondness for me. I can feel that you do—'

‘No, madam . . .' He'd been quick to spring back and dodge round her body, and go and stand with his hand on the door, ready to escape. ‘I can't – I mustn't. Please don't tempt me. My future father-in-law will hear of it and then I don't know what might happen. I hate saying this to you, madam, but we mustn't – truly. I'm so sorry. You're right, I
do
have a fondness for you, but I must forget that and put it aside and not endanger my true love.'

To her credit, Anna had behaved very well. She was kind, it occurred to Iopas, and he'd been grateful to her. But whenever she could, she still found ways to be alone with him. She came to the door of his bedchamber from time to time, and he had to go and stand on the threshold – otherwise, he was sure, she'd
have invited herself in and sat on his bed and then contrived to kiss him, and who knows where that would have led? He had to be on his guard all the time. It would not do to offend the queen's sister in case she complained to Dido about him, and then he would find himself thrown out of the palace. Dido would send him packing with no thought or regret for any work he'd done. He sighed and tried to remember what those first few days had been like.

‘Take your time,' Dido said. ‘There's no rush.'

Iopas had never known the palace to be so full of people. Everywhere you went, you tripped over one of the new guests – men who'd come ashore with Aeneas and who in another life had been Trojan soldiers. Their manners were not exactly delicate and they were very noisy and boisterous, and some of them rampaged through the corridors making such a racket that the master of the guard had been forced to turn them out into the gardens for most of the day. The only person who'd bothered to speak to him was Maron, who was not much more than a boy but seemed a pleasant fellow. He'd come into Iopas' room on his first day at the palace and said, just as though he were a long-lost friend: ‘Hello! I know who you are – the poet who sang to us last night. Iopas, right?'

‘Right,' said Iopas, echoing the word, though it wasn't the kind of thing he said naturally.

‘Maron, that's me. I've been given a room just down there' – he pointed towards the end of the corridor –
‘but I thought I'd do a bit of exploring. Don't you get bored, writing poems all day long?'

He'd come into the room and somehow settled himself on Iopas' only chair, even though he hadn't been invited to sit down. Iopas, still standing, said, ‘No, I don't. There are so many things that ask to be written about.'

‘Like . . . ?' Maron smiled up at him. ‘Read me one of your poems. I can't read myself, but I like a nice song. You don't have to sing if you don't feel like it. But I'd like to hear a few verses.'

‘Oh!' That was one thing Iopas couldn't resist: someone asking to hear his words. He picked up a piece of parchment and said, ‘Well, I won't sing this one – my lyre is over there but one of the strings needs changing. This is about great men being brought low.' He cleared his throat and began to speak:

‘That's not bad,' said Maron, looking as though he really meant it. ‘The tree's supposed to be like the man, is that it? You're saying that however big a hero someone is, there's someone else even bigger and fiercer who can cut him down to size.'

‘Exactly!' said Iopas. The boy may not have been able to read, but he was clearly very intelligent.

‘Well, it's good to meet you. I've got to go and find Ascanius now, or he'll be getting into some kind of mischief.' Maron stood up and went over to where Iopas' lyre was lying on the table. He ran his fingers over the untuned strings and Iopas winced at the sound. ‘Sorry,' said Maron. ‘Couldn't resist!'

He was gone before Iopas could object.

After that first day Dido and the Trojan fell into the habit of going on long walks through the city and Iopas thought that she did this to show off for his benefit. Whenever he could, he accompanied them as part of the train of courtiers and guards who followed the queen wherever she went. In the streets of Carthage, as she passed, everyone bowed almost to the ground, and she smiled at them and made a sign with her hand for them to stand upright, and then they'd wave and smile and she would bow her head, and the servants who walked behind her and Aeneas carrying sunshades had to keep well out of the way so that everyone got a good view. Every so often she and Aeneas would stop and speak to a shopkeeper, or a builder on one of the many new sites around the city where yet another splendid building was rising out of the earth. Iopas could see, from the way the queen leaned towards Aeneas, that she was in love with him. He'd had enough experience of seeing common people in the throes of passion and it was a little disappointing to realize that royal personages were no different. Dido tossed her head flirtatiously, looked up at the Trojan through her eyelashes and licked her lips
to moisten them. Iopas wasn't close enough to overhear any words, but laughter carried to him on the air, and even though the heat was often intense, when they stopped to admire anything, they stood very close to one another. Sometimes Aeneas gave Dido his hand as they moved from one spot to another, as though she were in danger of losing her balance and falling. The queen, who was famous for her calm and stately demeanour; who had all the neighbouring chieftains in awe of her cool head, her intelligence and her dignity, was running about like a schoolgirl, practically giggling. Something, some magic potion or spell must have been at work, because this had happened so suddenly.

It had taken only one night of storytelling from the Trojan and the spell was cast. Iopas knew because one of the first things she did on the morning after the feast was arrange for the ceremonial bed in her chamber to be moved to the guest room. There had been objections. Anna, for one, was against it. She said: ‘Why can't he sleep in the bed that's in there? The servants have enough to do, what with feeding and looking after these people, without beds being moved all over the place. There's nothing wrong with the bed in that room.'

‘But my bed is the most beautiful thing in this whole palace, and I want Aeneas to have nothing but the best. The bedhead is carved from a single piece of wood by the most skilled woodworkers in the city. The mattress is as soft as a cloud. I want it moved into
Aeneas' room. We'll put the guest bed into my bedchamber. Just while he's staying with us here.'

‘Let us hope that his visit isn't too long then,' said Anna – and that made Dido furious, Iopas remembered. She'd stood in the corridor outside the guest room, almost spitting with fury.

‘How can you say that? This is the first time I've had a chance to— Oh, never mind. But Aeneas is an honoured guest for as long as he cares to stay with us. Haven't you got work to do in the sewing room? I want the best linens for that room too. Will you see to that? Or do you object to him having decent bedclothes?'

Anna had muttered something under her breath and moved away. Iopas, knowing that his best chance of getting more information was talking to Anna, followed her into the sewing room. It was also possible that Elissa would be there, stitching or mending, and any glimpse of her made his day better. Because she was the queen's sister, Anna could hardly sit with the other young women who were constantly engaged in maintaining and refurbishing the hangings and fabrics that were the pride of the palace, but she'd made it her business to oversee what went on there, and to direct the work that the others were engaged in. She settled at a small table from which the other tables could be supervised and patted the chair beside her to indicate to Iopas that he could sit beside her.

The biggest table of all, which ran almost the whole length of the room, had an enormous length of purple-dyed cloth spread out on it. As well as the
public hangings and linens, there was also the matter of the queen's garments. These had to be kept in perfect condition and new ones made at her request. Anna often said that her girls, as she called them, were the busiest workers in Carthage. They were young women with dainty fingers who had come from the surrounding villages to find work in the palace and now felt privileged to be working for their adored queen. The most gifted workers did the embroidery: the delicate flowers in silver and gold thread that edged Dido's clothes needed more care than routine mending and it was considered an honour to be given such work. Anna sometimes undertook this embroidery herself, and now she bent to unpick some stitches on a scarlet butterfly which had not turned out to her satisfaction. She said, ‘That's one of the reasons I like this work.'

Iopas reflected that he hadn't mentioned embroidery. Anna continued, ‘If something isn't right, you aren't forced to put up with it. You can change things. Make everything perfect. In real life, matters frequently run out of your control. That's what's happening now. With my sister.'

‘In what way?' said Iopas, turning to face Anna and smiling his most winning smile. ‘I know that all these arrangements have meant a lot of extra work for you. I saw how harassed you looked last night at the feast. I felt for you, truly.'

‘You're a great comfort, Iopas. A great comfort. You appreciate what I do. I know that. And I didn't realize you were looking at me last night.'

Iopas decided to move the conversation on to something else before Anna was sidetracked into discussing his attention to how she looked. He said, ‘You do so much. So many things that not everyone notices.'

Anna nodded vigorously. ‘Exactly. Scarcely anyone
does
notice. But this latest thing – I don't know how that will turn out.'

‘Latest thing?' The trick was to appear just interested enough to keep the confidences flowing and yet not so eager that the speaker was put on their guard. If Anna realized that she was giving him access to her private thoughts, she might quite suddenly stop talking. But he needn't have worried.