8 Years Ago: Pylades

My name is Pylades. My father is King Strophius of Phocis, and my mother is Anaxibia – daughter of Atreus and sister of King Agamemnon of Argos and King Menelaus of Sparta. Both my parents are a bit of a bore, since they always seemed to be worrying about me and keep on giving me lectures about being pious, respecting the gods, and not letting my hubris get the better of me. It’s not like that I am arrogant or anything, it’s just that I state the truth when I am better than my peers. I am taller, stronger, faster, and smarter than the other boys of my age whom I play with, and does that not make me better?

Even though my parents sometimes worry too much, I still love them. I am an only child, and they love me back with all their attention. We are a happy family. Sometimes father says that is because we rule over only a small city-state, where things are simpler and court politics doesn’t interfere with family life. I could never understand what he meant. I mean, family is family right? I find it hard to understand how politics can make family life difficult, at least at the time. Little did I know how there will be a boy who will change my life forever.

I still remember the day when I first met Orestes. I just finished roughhousing with some of the other boys on the street and was going to wash myself with one of the public wells near the city gate. This was one of my guilty pleasures as I actually quite like roughing around, but no one in the palace except the combat instructors dares to lay a finger on me. Here, on the streets where I’m not recognized, I am just another kid, and I liked that feeling.

I stripped off my toga as I approached the well, filled a bucked, pulled it up, and cleansed myself with the cool water. Just as I finished putting back my clothes, I heard the sound of galloping horses. I turned to see a rider and two horses rushing through the city gates, the four guards there stepping aside to avoid getting trampled. The horses were rushing towards me and I jumped out of the way but in the process one of the horses’ legs caught my ankle.

A sharp pain jolted through my legs, and a sharper pain occurred when I tried to put any force on my ankle. I started feeling anger building inside me, whoever this rider was, he was going to be whipped bloody for this. I wanted to shout at the guards to chase the rider, but there was no need since he slowed down and got off his horse. He walked towards me, and I could now see him better. The rider was not a man, but a boy, perhaps around my age. His build was a smaller one, yet it looked firm.

“I am so sorry man, I didn’t mean to ride like that, it’s just that I haven’t slept in a while and I lost control of the horses,” I was surprised to see that he looked genuinely sorry, since generally, people who ride so recklessly are either drunk or assholes who didn’t have any regards for the wellbeing of others. But I was still angry as I remembered that my ankle is probably sprained, and I will be needing to stay in-doors for some time.

The boy saw that I was still on the muddy floor and offered his hand.

“Are you ok?” he asked with concern.

The guards had recovered by then and were running towards us. When they got closer they recognized me and jumped on the young rider.

“That is prince Pylades of Phocis that you harmed there rider!” the leader of the guards shouted as he decked the rider and then pressed his face into the muddy ground. The young man groaned as some more mud splashed onto my already stained toga from his face. It was hard not to feel sorry for him, seeing his disposition.

“Take it, easy guardsman,” I said, “no need to be so rough. Take him into the square and have him whipped for reckless riding, and then let him go.”

“Wait,” the stranger shouted, mouth still wet with mud. “You are the prince? That means your father is King Strophius? I came here to see him!”

“Shut up.” The guardsman slapped the kid again, “you really want to see the King after you almost killed his son? You’d be lucky to get out of the city alive!”

The rider seemed to consider this question, and realization of what he did dawned on him. There was fear in his eyes, but only for a second, for they were soon replaced with determination.

“Yes,” was all he said.

The guardsman laughed and started dragging him towards the square.

“What are you doing?” I asked the guard. He looked at me with a puzzled face.

“He asked to see my father,” I said. I liked this boy, he had real guts, and there are not a lot of people like that in the world.

The guard opened his mouth, I shot him a stare, and then he closed it again. “Of course, my prince,” He muttered. One of the other soldiers came to my side and helped me up.

The rider smiled, and I shot him a wink. “What’s your name?” I asked.

“Orestes,” he said.

When later we arrived at the palace, a maid rushed toward me to offer me a fresh change of toga. Orestes was still covered in mud so I told the maid to prepare a change of clothes for him as well. She looks uncertain as Orestes had his arms held behind his back by two guards, but I stared intently at her until she nodded and hurried off. We kept casual conversation as we walked, and I found myself starting to like this boy. We arrived at the door to my father’s throne room, just as the maid arrived with a fresh change of togas.

“Wipe him clean and change his clothes,” I ordered.

This was quickly done, and when Orestes was clean, he looked better. But now that I could see him clearly, without anger or mud, I could see that there were heavy bags under his eyes and strain on his face. He was obviously very tired and very nervous. I don’t know why, but I wanted to comfort him.

“He is bearing no arms and he isn’t running away, there is no need to hold him,” I told the guards. Then I placed my hand on Orestes’ shoulder and squeezed, “Hey, is going to be alright.”

He nodded, and the door opened.

The throne room of Phocis wasn’t luxurious or grand, for we were not an especially wealthy city. However, the room was clean and ordered, reflecting the pious and organized personalities of its inhabitants. The walls were white and always clean, the columns straight and without much decoration. If anything, I thought that this would be the style of the gods on Mount Olympus; after all, what use is gold and silver to the eternal gods?

“Welcome, stranger. You have stated that your purpose is to greet me, is that correct?” My father asked, his voice filling the room.

“Indeed, sir,” Orestes responded.

“And you are also aware that you have sprained my son’s ankle? Yet you insist on showing your face here.”

“You have a reputation of being a pious, gracious, and good king, sir. Those who are not wicked should have no fear of your kind.”

I’ve got to give it to Orestes, he knows how to flatter properly.

“You are, of course, correct,” Father said, “Pylades, would you like to describe the incident?”

“Yes father,” I responded “I was at the city gates when Orestes here rode in recklessly. I tried to dodge but one of the horses’ hooves caught my ankle. But you mustn’t blame this boy father, for as you can clearly see, he is fatigued from long riding, and the incident was totally an accident, as he meant no harm.”

My father’s brows tightened, and he had a pensive face. “Orestes, you say?” he asked, not really a question. “Yes,” I said, half a question. Father looked at Orestes, and simply said “Explain.”

At this point I was confused, since apparently the name Orestes meant something to father. The kid started speaking.

“King Strophius, I am glad to be in the honor of your presence and the safety of your home. My name is indeed Orestes, and I am from the house of Atreus, the royal house of Argos. I have come here seeking hospitality and asylum, for no doubt you are aware of my mother’s affairs with my father’s first cousin which started two years ago. Things have progressed so badly that I now no longer feel safe in my own home. My sister, Electra, as said that you are a good and pious man, as well as a dear friend of my father Agamemnon. I hope that she was correct and that you can offer me safety and comfort for the time being.”

I now looked at Orestes with a brand new gaze. This boy, the kid of the great king Agamemnon? Wow. I also wondered what the deal was with his mother and her affairs, but I did not feel that it is the time to ask.

“I do see the family resemblance young Orestes, and I cannot imagine why anyone would pretend to be you in such a time, when keeping you alive may prove … challenging. But fear not, for though these halls are not covered in gold, the walls are strong. As husband to the sister of your father, I welcome you into my home, and would like to grant you my hospitality.”

And so the polite conversation went on while my head zone out. I honestly didn’t care for the complicated family relations of Orestes, I guess that I kind of feel bad for him since he had to leave them, but hey now he’s got us. If he was going to stay a while, then maybe I would get a brother. I’ve always wanted that but my parents seemed to have difficulty getting another baby. In any case, I thought it would be cool to have another kid my age in the house. One who is smart, educated, and athletic, one who is going to be able to keep up with me.

“And a final point,” I heard Orestes’ voice say as my mind zoned back into the present conversation. “I would insist that I help take care of Pylades until he has fully recovered. This was an injury caused by my carelessness, and though it is the work of servants, honor demands that I correct my own wrongs.”

“That is a fitting and reciprocal responsibility for you to take,” my father said. “I can see that Agamemnon’s son is a responsible and well-spoken young man, and I hope you can be a good influence on my own rambunctious Pylades. For now, this court is at an end and you are both dismissed.”

We nodded our thanks for father’s time and turned to leave. I felt some jealously at how fast father came to accept Orestes into the house, but at the same time, I was also happy that he was going to stay. I glanced at him as he helped me towards my room. His face was full of sorrow, probably from leaving his family. He saw me looking and smiled a genuine smile that didn’t look forced, and I smiled back. It is rare that people become friends in one afternoon, but I was confident that is what we are now.