Iphigenia's Tears

By ElveNDestiNy

May 22, 2004

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended on The Iliad, or Troy, the movie. References used: The Trojan War, by Bernard Evslin, The Iliad, by Homer, Quintus Smyrnaeus: The Fall of Troy, by Smyrnaeus Quintus, translated by A.S. Way, Greek Lyric IV: Bacchylides, Corinna, and Others, edited by David A. Campbell, Mythographi Graeci, Vol. I, by Apollodorus, edited by Robin Wagner, and Iphigenia at Aulis, by Euripides.

Author's Notes: Although this was first written when I was in 8th grade/12 years old, it's undergone several edits. I've changed it significantly by adopting the first person narrative, so it's quite different from the story I first posteda while ago and completely took off.

Pronunciation Guide (taken from the Encylopedia Mythica at ):

Achilles: uh-KIL-lees

Agamemnon: ag-uh-MEM-nahn

Calchas: KAL-kuhs

Clytemnestra: kly-tem-NES-trah

Iphigenia: if-uh-juh-ny'-uh

Menelaus: men-uh-LAY-uhs

A note to Alkippe: I don't know where you got your information, but as I'm no master of Greek pronunciation, I checked several sources and simply chose the most commonly used/accepted pronunciations. If you have more suggestions, please provide some sort of proof or documentation of your information. Also, notice that I'm using the Romanized names, not the original Greek ones. Similarily, Hercules is not pronounced Herakles.

"Iphigenia!" Electra cried, catching my hands in hers. "Have you heard yet? Oh, what wonderful news for you! Father has sent a message that you are to be married...to Achilles!"

Even now, years later, I can still remember the exact time of day, the clothes I was wearing, and even what I had been doing when my sister brought the news to me. For it was with those simple words that my entire life changed.

- o – o – o – o – o -

Agamemnon, King of Mycenae, had waited so many years for his glory, and now that Troy was within his grasp, the wind would not blow. Why? Why was he cursed at this moment, of all moments? A thousand ships lay waiting in the harbor at Aulis, but without a fair wind for Troy, all was for naught.

The more delayed they were, the more the Greeks talked of returning home. They cared not for glory, nor for Helen—why should they risk spending long years away from their family, risk death from the Trojans, who were well-known for their might in arms?

He was the leader of the host, and he would have his conquest of Troy. Why, why were the seas becalmed now, of all times? Torn with mingled frustration and dejection, Agamemnon decided he would consult Calchas the seer.

"It is your own fault, Agamemnon, that has caused this. While waiting for a favorable wind, you went out hunting and shot one of Artemis' favorite hinds. Worse yet, you boasted of your kill, invoking the Goddess of the Moon's own name to do so," the seer pronounced gravely.

Agamemnon remembered now. Yes, he had done so in the last week, bringing down a beautiful hind that had led them quite a chase through the woods. Curse the Fates! Why must his every action anger the gods?

"Only you can put this to rights," the seer continued. As with most that possessed a second sight, he was blind. The milky blue-white orbs turned to Agamemnon as if they could still see, and he had to fight off a shudder.

"Tell me how I may appease the goddess," Agamemnon demanded, noting that the only other two men in the room, Menelaus and Odysseus, were silent.

"Only by the sacrifice of your daughter, Iphigenia, will Artemis allow the fleet to sail to Troy." As he listened to the seer's words, Agamemnon wished he could wring Calchas' skinny neck, yet was afraid of the gods' further displeasure.

It did not occur to him to question the words of the seer. To do so would be to challenge the gods themselves, and he knew better than to do that. In his mind's eye, Agamemnon remembered the slender, waif-like girl that his wife, Clytemnestra, had borne him. He knew what was expected of him, but he would do so with a heavy heart.

"Very well, then. I must restore the honor of Artemis. One thousand ships lie in wait at the harbor, and still no wind will blow. If the Huntress will demand this price of me, I will pay it for the sake of our fleet."

The other two men watched him silently, offering no opinion. He turned to them then, not meeting their eyes. "Menelaus my brother, and Odysseus my friend, I request that you speak to this of no one. I will take care of this by myself."

When the others were gone, the seer spoke more to Agamemnon. "You cannot simply send for Iphigenia. This is a war camp, and no decent place for a young maiden to be wandering about. Her mother Clytemnestra will question your orders and perhaps seek a way to keep Iphigenia from leaving Mycenae.

Agamemnon knew this well enough. He regarded Calchas with irritation. Not only had the blind seer brought ill news, he was seeking to meddle in affairs not his own.

"Out with you, Calchas," he ordered. "I have no further need for you."

The seer seemed to be staring straight at him and he clenched his hands at his sides. It would not do to further offend the gods by disrespecting their messenger. In a more moderate tone, he continued. "Artemis will be satisfied, I swear on my honor, but it will be done by my own plans. I give you thanks for your aid in this matter."

With a small nod of his head, Calchas left. Agamemnon sat down to think. How old was Iphigenia? Surely about marriageable age, although she was as slim as a willow and looked no less delicate. Perhaps...

He searched about for his writing materials as he thought of what he would write to his wife. It was a cruel ruse, but the heart of Agamemnon was blinded with visions of his future glory. No one, not his daughter, not even the gods, would keep him from this one purpose. To see Troy fall.

- o – o – o – o – o -

Clytemnestra received the messenger from her husband with a little trepidation. The kingdom of Mycenae seemed empty with the king and most of the men gone, so she welcomed any news. However, the fact that Agamemnon was writing to her in the first place told her that he would have ill news. By all rights, the fleet should be halfway to Troy by now, not still at Aulis.

She broke the seal and read the letter carefully. The only sound she uttered was a soft gasp as she scanned the first few lines. The queen of Mycenae quickly composed herself, however, her serene face betraying none of her emotions.

"Go quickly," she urged one of her daughters. "Find Iphigenia and tell her to come here at once. She is to be married to Achilles."

The sisters stared at each other in shock. "Achilles?" one whispered in surprise. Only Electra stirred to their mother's orders and left to bring Iphigenia.

- o – o – o – o – o -

I stared at my sister in shock. "What? Marriage to Achilles?

"Yes, Achilles!"

"Surely you must have misunderstood what you heard, Electra," I said in confusion.

"Iphigenia, it is all true," Electra said, not with a little envy. I looked at her still without realization, too surprised to sort out my whirling thoughts. "Come on now, Mother is waiting for us."

Her mention of our mother seemed somehow to make the news more real, and I followed her numbly, bewildered. Why would the great Achilles choose me, when he could have any Greek maiden to wed? I was thin and pale-skinned, with great dark eyes and dark hair, but I knew that I was no match in beauty for any of my sisters. Electra always claimed that Father loved me best, but it was only because I was the most daring.

In no time at all we had reached the chamber, but as I paused outside, I felt a thrill of excitement in my heart. What girl had not dreamed of marriage to Achilles, after all? His fame had spread until every Greek boy in the marketplace wished to be like him, until old warriors spoke his name with hope for the future. All knew his name.

Electra ushered me in and I dropped to sit. "Mother?"

Clytemnestra looked at me with fondness, I think, but she has never understood me. I was more like our father, whereas all my sisters had the lively brightness of our mother. Against them, I had nothing but perhaps an odd sort of resolve, more determination than passion, more wit than beauty, and these things are not prized in daughters.

"Today a messenger from your father brought a letter to me, summoning us to Aulis. Your sister would have told you about Achilles."

I was no fool, even as overwhelmed as I felt. "Achilles will accompany the fleet to Troy," I said. "Why would he wish to marry on the eve of war, when it has been foretold that the war will be long? He will not see me for ten years, perhaps more."

"Innocent one," she smiled at me, with a little affection but no great love. I had grown so used to it that it did not hurt me. Nor did I blame her for her seeming inability to love me, because she cared for me as much as she was able, I feel. It is neither of our faults that I am not what she expected, and she is not the kind of mother than can love all equally. "Achilles, like any man facing war and possible death, will want an heir. He has chosen you, Iphigenia, for that honor. Make ready with your things; we will leave for Aulis early next morning."

It was a dismissal, and I rose and slipped out of the room quietly, finding my way back to my own chambers quickly. It was an honor, I knew, but I could not help but wonder what life would be like for me now. Would Achilles be kind to her? To hope for love might seem foolish, but some dreams cannot be denied.

I have long known that I would soon be married, spending hours thinking of all the men that might be chosen for me. We had little power over our destinies, truly, and as daughters of the King of Mycenae, I had long since accepted that I would have no say.

Yet Achilles...if there was any one that I might have dreamed of to wed, it could have been him. They say he is fair, and fair of judgment as well, although others disagree, citing his famous temper. Who can separate the truth from the rumors? But in every legend there is some grain of truth, I know, although how Achilles the man might differ from the stories of Achilles the warrior, no one could tell me.

I had not imagined it this way, on the eve of war, with my soon-to-be husband leaving for ten years. Ten years! It is more than half of my lifetime...I am only ten and seven years, now. Perhaps there would be a child to love...

I could not think of these things. The possibilities were endless, and each painted a future that seemed strange to her. I smiled a little bitterly; any of my sisters would have loved the chance to be the honored wife of such a famed man, and I, myself, had dreamed of Achilles. Yet some part of me was fearful.

There was a temple of Artemis not so far away, and I slipped out of the palace easily enough. The guards had long been familiar with my solitary excursions; even as a child I rode off alone. Clytemnestra had been furious the first time I went missing and worried her half to death, but Father had just laughed. Sometimes I wonder if I should not have been a boy. Men have such power. I suppose the fate of women is not so awful, but there has always been a fire in me that wishes for more than we are allotted.

As I knelt on the smooth floor, I smiled a little self-consciously, although there was no priestess of Artemis around to see. After all, for a girl soon to become a wife, I should be offering prayers to Aphrodite, and yet I chose to honor Artemis, the eternal virgin, with my offerings.

If not love, at least affection between us, I prayed. Give me strength to face what life brings me, and the courage to do so with pride and dignity. Let me be content with my destiny, come what may in this marriage to Achilles.

The night was growing colder and I made my way back to the palace slowly, tracing out the constellations in the sky. The light of the stars seemed distant and cold, and I had lost my childish dreams in them.

No one had noticed my absence, for which I was thankful. I lay on my bed for a long time, thinking, a little wistful but mostly uncertain. If even half the rumors about Achilles were true, I knew that I could find in myself love for him. Yet if there is one truth running through all the tales of him, it is that he is a warrior born, and those that are warriors have distant hearts.

I fell asleep before long, worn out with my thoughts. There was only a vague sense of foreboding in my heart that troubled me, telling me that something was wrong. I dreamed of golden hair and beautiful blue eyes, but the expression in them was distant with concentration on battle, and when I woke the next morning, I discovered tears on my cheeks.

- o – o – o – o – o -

Please review! There are a total of three parts to this story, and the next part will be up tomorrow. For those interested in the story of Oenone, visit "The Death of Paris." It's complete!

Thanks - E.D.