Dido Read online

  ‘Seen some action, this bed, so they say . . .’

  ‘Surprised it’s still in one piece.’

  ‘But what’s she doing getting rid of it? She must be getting rid of it or why would she put it out here, eh? It’s in good enough nick for a few more shags, I’d have thought.’

  ‘There won’t be much of that. He’s buggered off. She’s in despair. That’s what I heard.’

  ‘Yeah, but how long will that last, eh? Someone else’ll come along and then what’ll she do without a bed?’

  ‘It’s not the only one in the palace, bonehead.’

  ‘No, but it’s the bed. Right? It’s, like, the main bed. The bed of beds.’

  ‘What’ll happen to it now? That’s what I want to know. Who puts a bed in the middle of a courtyard? Ridiculous, that is. She could have done anything with it. Moved it to a guest room. Made a gift of it to a poor family. It’ll get wrecked out here. Criminal waste, I call it.’

  Cubby sat down on one of the stone benches that were set under the trees. He rubbed at his shoulder, which was going to have a massive bruise on it, for sure. He hadn’t realized till that moment how sore it felt. Suddenly he became aware of someone standing behind him and he sprang to his feet. He knew it couldn’t be one of the soldiers, for they were all down near the bed, laughing and talking, happy to have got shot of their burden. He turned and saw a woman leaning against one of the columns that rose from the marble floor to the roof of the colonnade. How could that be? Who was this? Cubby had never seen anyone half as beautiful in his life. Even the queen looked quite ordinary next to this lady. He gulped and shuffled his feet.

  ‘Don’t bother to speak, boy,’ said this princess. She had to be at least a princess, Cubby reckoned. He had no intention of speaking, but he could see that the lady was crying. She was doing it very neatly. No bawling or red eyes for her, whoever she was. She just had a line of tears, like little pearls, creeping down her cheek. She lifted a corner of the flimsy-looking scarf she wore over her head and brushed them away.

  ‘There! I’ve stopped crying now. There is no point in tears. Zeus has had his way again and that’s all there is to it. Don’t look so puzzled. You’re too stupid to understand the ways of the Gods. I’ve spoken to you before – don’t you remember? Never mind. You’ve clearly forgotten our last meeting. Dullards find it hard to keep any memory in their heads of the Gods they meet.’

  ‘Gods? What’re you on about?’

  It occurred to Cubby that the woman might be drunk. Or mad. Who else would be wandering around the palace courtyard? But now that she mentioned it, she did look a bit familiar. He tried to think where he might have seen her before, and for a few moments something fluttered at the edge of his memory, but then it was gone and no matter how hard he racked his brains, he couldn’t remember a thing. He decided not to worry about it.

  ‘You have no idea who I am, have you?’ she said. ‘I’m Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love. My sister, Hera, and I fostered this love and now Zeus has sent his messenger, Hermes, to speak to Aeneas, and that’s that. He’s seen to it that it’s all over. He’s taken him away from her.’

  ‘Who? Taken who away?’

  ‘Fool! You’re nothing but a dimwit. My son, Aeneas, and his men and ships will leave Carthage very soon and it’s Zeus’ doing. Dido is bereft. That’s why she’s given orders for the bed to be brought out here.’

  What did bereft mean? Cubby had no idea but knew it couldn’t be anything good from the way she said it. Perhaps it just meant that Dido would be sad because Aeneas was leaving. Everyone knew who he was. He’d been part of life at the palace for ages. Maron had explained on the very first day that his master was a prince who came from far away, from somewhere called Troy. You couldn’t live here and not know that, but how come this creature who said she was a goddess also said she was his mother? She didn’t look old enough to be anybody’s mother. Cubby was feeling more confused than he usually did when people told him things, and that was saying something. He asked, ‘What’s going to happen to it – to the bed?’

  The lady came to sit next to him on the stone bench. He blinked. Perhaps, he thought, I’m asleep and this is my dream. There was a kind of music in the air as she moved, which came, he realized, from silver bells sewn on to the hem of her dress. He could smell her now too: a fragrance like roses and almond blossom. If I put out a hand, Cubby told himself, I could touch her scarf. He imagined how it would feel under his fingers, like mist or a stream of water, but pale green and pink and threaded with gold.

  She shouted at him, right in his face: ‘You’re stupid and witless and shouldn’t be here at all. This is wasted on the likes of you. Nothing good will come of it, you can be sure of that.’

  Cubby blinked. When he opened his eyes, she’d gone. The beautiful lady was nowhere to be seen.

  ‘You!’ The master of the guard was shouting at him again. ‘Back inside now. Look sharp. Plenty more to bring out here. This bed’s just the start of it.’

  Cubby plodded along behind the other men, frowning and trying to remember what she’d said her name was. Aphra-something. What else was there to bring out? What did that mean? When would he be getting back to the kitchen? He was starting to feel a bit sleepy and stared down at his feet as they covered the ground back to the bedrooms. One foot in front of the other. Suddenly it came to him where he’d seen her before. Aphrodite – that’s her name, Cubby told himself, and felt quite clever for a change, because he’d remembered after all. It made him go red in the face just thinking about that day. He was glad the light was dim and was pretty sure the others, the real guards, hadn’t noticed him blushing like a silly girl. He’d tried to put everything that had happened then out of his mind, because thinking about it made him feel confused and wobbly inside. Mostly he succeeded, but bits of what happened on the day he met Aphrodite sometimes came back to him, and then he felt a mixture of shame and a sort of longing for something he didn’t quite understand. He tried to concentrate on what he was doing. He counted steps and tried to make a list in his head of all the bits and pieces he’d carried from various rooms to put on the bed, and soon the beautiful lady he’d met in the courtyard and everything she reminded him of had been pushed firmly to the back of his mind.

  Elissa

  Early morning; a palace corridor/a small bedchamber

  THE QUEEN HAD hidden herself in a small room, right at the end of one of the longest corridors in the palace, and Elissa had been sitting just outside it on a wooden bench for what seemed like a very long time. Anna, the queen’s sister, had told her to stay there just in case Dido wanted anything. Elissa was wondering if she could slip away for a while and go down to the harbour. How could she let Ascanius go without kissing him goodbye? Her eyes filled with tears as she imagined the boy being dragged on to the ship and begging his father, asking over and over, Where’s Elissa? I want Elissa . . . She could hear his voice clear in her head, as though the child were beside her. She was so deep in thought that she didn’t see Iopas till he was standing in front of her.

  ‘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.’