Dido (3 page)

‘Elissa? Are you all right? You seem to be . . . in some distress.'

‘Thank you, Iopas,' Elissa answered, making an
effort to sound cheerful and strong. Iopas, according to Nezral and Tanith, was hiding a deep love for her, but as far as she could see, all he did was look at her searchingly from time to time. He never followed her, nor tried to make sure he stood next to her when the opportunity arose. He had never even spoken to her much, so perhaps her friends were exaggerating. They loved gossiping and Elissa didn't believe half the things they told her. But now, here he was, standing with his hands hovering in the air as though he wanted to stroke the top of her head and looking (Nezral's words for him)
all moony-eyed
. Elissa hoped very much that if she sounded firm and happier than she felt, he'd put his hands down by his sides again. He wasn't bad-looking: thin and tall with fairish hair and long eyelashes, but he didn't seem special in any way that she could see. Just lately, he seemed to spend most of his time following Dido or Anna about, making sure he didn't miss anything of interest that might turn into a poem, and most people in the palace thought he was nosier than he needed to be: always glad of any scraps of information or rumour that he might use. Some said he was cruel in the uses he made of his knowledge, but Elissa hadn't seen this unkindness for herself.

‘D'you mind if I sit down and talk to you for a moment?' Iopas said, and Elissa nodded. I can hardly say no, she thought. He sat down next to her and went on: ‘I'm still tired. I was woken up so early by the queen. Did you hear her? You must have. No one in
the palace could have slept through her screams. It was terrifying. I thought at first it must be some wild creature – that was when I was still half asleep – but of course as soon as I raced out into the corridor I could see what it was. Poor Dido! My heart aches when I think of her sorrow. I don't think I've ever seen anyone so much in love. In fact' – he turned a little so that he was looking at Elissa – ‘I was in the hunting party on the day they were married. That's what the queen called it. Have you heard that story, Elissa? Shall I tell you about it? I have the tale on good authority from Maron, who spoke to someone who was actually in the cave . . .'

That was another thing she'd heard about Iopas. He was boastful about his inside knowledge of the queen's household and liked telling stories he hoped would impress his listeners.

‘Not now, Iopas,' she said. ‘I'm not in the mood for stories. I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude but I feel so sad. Both for the queen and for myself.'

‘You? And why are you sad?'

Elissa was caught off-guard, wondering what to say, when Iopas struck his forehead with the heel of his hand and said, ‘I'm a fool. Of course I know why you're sad. You're missing Ascanius. I'd noticed how fond of him you are. But why are you sitting here?'

Would he never stop his questioning? Elissa said, ‘I'm waiting to see if the queen needs anything. You don't have to stay and keep me company, you know. I'll be perfectly all right on my own.' As soon as the words
were out of her mouth, Elissa regretted them. I sound churlish and ungrateful, she thought, and whatever I think of him, perhaps he
is
only being kind to me. She went on: ‘I don't mean to be horrible, Iopas. I'm grateful for your sympathy, but I'm sure you have things to attend to.'

‘Well,' Iopas said, standing up, ‘there's always something waiting to be written. Some verse or other. Especially now. Perhaps the queen will require a lament for Aeneas' departure. I'll ask her when I see her. Be happy, Elissa.'

‘Thank you, Iopas,' Elissa said, relieved to see him walking quickly away from her.

As he left, he passed Tanith, who was making her way towards Elissa along the corridor. She usually wore her dark, curly hair bound up in a scarf but today it hung over her shoulders, uncombed. When she reached the bench, she said, ‘I've found you at last. What're you doing here?'

‘Tanith! I'm not doing anything really. I was thinking of Ascanius and—'

‘I'm not supposed to be here. There's yesterday's laundry to be done and the others will wonder where I am. But I've been looking for you everywhere. You're the only one who understands how miserable I am.'

It was true that Tanith, who almost always smiled a great deal, looked quite unlike herself. Her mouth was set in a straight line and she was pale and you could still see she'd been crying. She had come into Dido's service just before Elissa, and the two girls, together
with Nezral, had shared a room and been friends since those days, more than four summers ago.

‘Maron's gone,' Tanith said, sitting down beside Elissa on the bench and sighing. ‘I'll never find someone like him again. No one else has ever paid me so much attention. No one has ever liked me in that way, but he did. Oh, the things he said to me! He spoke such beautiful words to me, and now when I remember them, I just want to cry.'

‘I know, Tanith. It's a sad day for everyone. The queen herself is crying. I've heard her, sitting here, weeping like anyone else. And Maron was a lovely person and we'll miss him, but of course it's worst for you. But don't say you'll never find anyone else. Of course you will. Other young men will like you just as much.'

Tanith shook her head. ‘No, Elissa. I'm not pretty like you, nor clever like Nezral, and Maron was the first person to notice me. In that way.'

Was she pretty? Elissa knew that her hair was glossy and dark; that her body was straight and quite tall; that her eyes were brown and flecked with green – but pretty? She'd never thought of herself as that. She changed the subject.

‘Do you remember when we first met Maron? How he came into the room where we were playing with Ascanius and said,
You might not think I look much like a nursemaid but that's what I've been up till now.
'

Tanith smiled in spite of herself. ‘Yes, I remember. He picked up a cloth lying over the linen chest and
tied it round his head and walked about the room pretending to be a fat old nanny! And we couldn't help laughing. He knew how to do that – make everyone laugh. That was what Ascanius liked about him.'

The girls were silent for a moment, remembering Maron, who had come into the palace and immediately made friends with everyone. That was his gift. Elissa said, ‘He liked people. He was happy to speak to anyone and treat them as a friend. Look at Cubby. No one ever speaks to him, do they? They think he's stupid and ignore him most of the time. I've always felt quite sorry for him, but I'd never dare to speak to him. I'd feel . . . I don't know. A bit strange, in case he didn't understand me properly, or something. Maron didn't think about things like that, though. I saw him quite often, chatting with Cubby in the kitchen. I expect Cubby's sad today too.'

‘He doesn't look sad. They've got him standing guard by the bed in the courtyard. He looks the same as always. He doesn't feel as sad as I do, I'm sure. I can't stop myself from crying, Elissa.'

Elissa put an arm around her friend and Tanith wiped her eyes on a corner of her skirt. She said, ‘I have to go. What are you doing now?'

‘I have to stay here,' Elissa said. ‘I'm supposed to wait here in case the queen needs anything.'

‘Farewell then.' Tanith stood up and her mouth made the shape of a smile, but Elissa could see that her eyes were still sorrowful. She made her way towards the laundry, with her head bowed.

Just then, Dido called out from within her chamber. ‘Elissa? Is that you?'

Elissa sprang up at once and went to the door. ‘Yes, my lady,' she said, coming into the room. The light was dim and Elissa could tell that it would be in shadow till late afternoon. The queen sat on the narrow bed, which was one of only three pieces of furniture in the chamber. There was a small chair and a table under the window. The bed was spread with a coverlet made from the skins of wild animals, stitched together. Dido lifted one corner of it and smiled up at Elissa.

‘You know the story about the ox hide, don't you, Elissa? Sit down, child. I don't want to be alone just now.'

Everyone knew the story, but Elissa didn't want to say anything to stop the queen from telling it again. If she was remembering the old days, when she was young, she'd be distracted from her sorrow. It might make her feel better. Elissa said, ‘You were very young when you came to Carthage, I know.'

‘But clever. Everyone still says how clever I was!' Dido smiled. ‘The chieftains promised me that I could do what I liked with all the land that could be bounded by the skin of an ox. Silly creatures! They thought I meant an ox hide spread out over the earth.'

‘But you tricked them!'

‘It was easy. They all had their eyes hanging out, looking at me. It wasn't every day that a young widow on the run from her husband's murderer came to their attention. They all thought they wanted to help
me, but the truth was they fancied themselves as suitors for my hand and couldn't understand that I didn't want any power through them. I wanted it for myself. On my own. And yes, I tricked them. I ordered my best and most skilful seamstress to cut the hide as though she were making a garment of softest cloth. Oh, you should have seen her! She had a glinting silvery-sharp knife and she traced its tip over the leather, slicing a thin border from the outer edge and then moving in a circle that grew smaller and smaller, till there was a long strip of leather, as narrow as a ribbon, lying on the ground. And when I laid it out, it stretched out so far that it took in most of the land on which the city now stands. The chieftains couldn't believe it.' Dido laughed, though there was little mirth in the sound. ‘Well, that's not quite true, of course – it wasn't
that
long, but it took in so much more than they expected, and they were so stunned by my cheek that they agreed to give me everything: the land Carthage stands on and even more besides. And I allowed them to think that there might be hope for one of them as my husband . . . Too late for that now. I started work on building the city almost at once. And I asked for their help with stonemasons, carpenters and engineers, which made them happy. I paid well, of course. It's amazing, isn't it, how much a little gold greases the wheels.'

Elissa said, ‘It was clever trick. Perhaps the chieftains admired your cleverness.'

‘Yes,' Dido said, and went to stand at the window
with her back to Elissa. ‘And I had my city. I did everything – I've done everything – to make it a fine city, and it
is
beautiful, isn't it?'

‘Very beautiful,' Elissa said. ‘Tall, fine buildings. Green gardens – rich farmlands outside the city too.'

‘And yet I sometimes long for my country. I can't help it. The trees there – they aren't a bit like those we have here. I've planted cedars and vines, but they aren't quite at home in the landscape. A little like me. I still yearn for my childhood. My first husband. And sometimes I wish I didn't have to be a monarch all the time. You have no notion of how burdensome it is, ruling over a people. Never being able to lay that burden down because you have a duty to them; to your people – do you understand?'

Elissa nodded, though she didn't say what was in her mind. If Dido found being a queen so tiresome, why had she not sailed with Aeneas to wherever it was he was bound? Surely he must have asked her . . . No, the truth was, Dido loved being queen more than anything. She loved the power she had over the inhabitants of Carthage. She loved her own fame and reputation. She would never, never give up the pleasure of being a queen; the supreme ruler of her kingdom. How many times, Elissa thought, have I walked behind her as she processed through the city? Dido sometimes travelled on a kind of moving platform carried through the streets by six strong men from the palace guard, with Elissa and the other women walking alongside and behind her. The crowds
stood on the edge of the roadway, and waved and cheered as she passed, and some of them even knelt down in the dirt and touched their foreheads to the ground, and Elissa felt a little of the thrill of being adored. Sometimes she could imagine that everyone was worshipping
her
, but that was just a foolish daydream she indulged in to pass the time and she knew the truth of the matter. It was Dido, dressed in flowing robes of purple and red embroidered with fine gold threads, and with a headdress fashioned from beaten copper studded with opals on her head – she was the one the people loved; the one they admired and revered.

The queen went to lie on the bed, and Elissa was on the point of asking permission to return to her duties when she noticed a movement in the corner of the small room. She turned round and was startled to see someone standing in the shadows near the door.

‘Dido, Queen of Carthage, is unhappy,' the someone said, and when the visitor began to float towards the bed, not quite touching the floor, with the turquoise, silver-embroidered draperies of her robes shimmering and moving around her like smoke, Elissa wondered if this was a dream.

‘Recognize Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love,' said the vision.

‘Aphrodite!' Elissa gazed at her open-mouthed and couldn't think of what to say next.

‘My poor child,' the Goddess said. ‘Do not blame me for the queen's unhappiness. Nor for your own. As you
know, all my desire is to foster love. Blame Zeus for Aeneas' departure. He's the one who sent Hermes to remind the Trojan of his duty.'

‘Was it you who made her love Aeneas?' Elissa asked.

‘Don't chide me,' Aphrodite whispered. ‘What's done is done – nothing comes of mourning the past. And we Gods do not take kindly to being scolded. Everything that has to be will be, and all will become clearer as time passes.' She put an arm round Elissa, who was aware of the faintest touch, as though someone had wrapped a scarf of finest silk around her shoulders.