The Story of Iphigenia

King Agamemnon sat in his tent at Aulis, where the Greek army was gathered, ready to sail against the great city of Troy. It was past midnight, but the king could not sleep, for he was weighed down by many cares. A lamp burned before him, and in his hand he held a tablet of pine wood on which he wrote. Yet his mind changed constantly: he would blot out the letters, then write them again; now he would press his seal upon the wax, only to break it moments later. As he worked, he wept, looking like a man possessed. At last he called to an old servant, a man given long ago by Tyndareus to his daughter, Queen Clytemnestra, and said: "Old man, you know how Calchas the seer commanded me to sacrifice my daughter Iphigenia to Artemis, the goddess of this place. He said that only then would the fleet have a fair voyage to Troy, and that we would take the city and destroy it.

When I heard those words, I ordered Talthybius the herald to proclaim throughout the camp that every man should return to his own home, for I would not do such a thing. But my brother, King Menelaus, persuaded me, and I consented. Now listen carefully: only three men know what I am about to tell you—Calchas, Menelaus, and Odysseus, king of Ithaca. I wrote to my wife, the queen, telling her to send our daughter here, pretending she was to marry Achilles. I praised Achilles highly, saying he refused to sail with us unless I gave him my daughter in marriage. But now I have changed my mind and written another letter, which I will read to you: 'Daughter of Leda, do not send your child to the land of Euboea, for I shall give her in marriage at another time.'" "Aye," said the old man, "but what of Achilles? Won't he be angry when he learns he has been cheated of a bride?" "Not so," replied the king.

"We used his name, but he knows nothing of this marriage. Now hurry. Do not stop to rest by any fountain in the woods, and do not let your eyes close in sleep. Beware lest the chariot carrying the queen and her daughter pass you where the roads divide. And make sure the seal on this letter remains unbroken." So the old man departed with the letter. But he had not gone far when Menelaus spied him, snatched the letter, and broke the seal. The old man cried out, "Help, my lord! Someone has taken your letter!" King Agamemnon came from his tent, saying, "What is this uproar and dispute I hear?" Menelaus answered, "Do you see this letter I hold in my hand?" "I see it. It is mine. Give it back." "I will not give it until I have read its contents to all the Greek army." "Where did you find it?" "I found it while I was waiting for your daughter to arrive at the camp." "What business is that of yours? Am I not master of my own household?"

Then Menelaus rebuked his brother for his fickleness. "Before you were chosen commander," he said, "you were kind to everyone, greeting all courteously, shaking hands, and leaving your doors open to any who wished to enter. But once elected, you became haughty and hard to approach. Then, when trouble arose, and you feared losing your command and the glory it brings, you listened to Calchas and promised your daughter as a sacrifice. You sent for her under the pretense of marrying her to Achilles. And now, you have gone back on your word. Surely this is a dark day for Greece, troubled because you lack wisdom." King Agamemnon replied, "What is your quarrel with me? Why blame me if you could not control your own wife? Now, to win back that woman because she is beautiful, you cast aside reason and honor. And if I had an evil purpose and have now changed to a wiser one, do you call me foolish?

Let those who swore the oath to Tyndareus go with you on this errand. Why should I slay my child and bring endless grief upon myself so you can take revenge on your wicked wife?" Menelaus turned away in a rage, crying, "Betray me if you will. I shall seek other counsel and other friends." But even as he spoke, a messenger arrived, saying, "King Agamemnon, I have come as you commanded, bringing your daughter Iphigenia. Her mother, Queen Clytemnestra, is also here, with your little son Orestes. They are resting by a spring, for the journey was long and weary. All the army has gathered to greet them and wonder why they have come. Some say, 'Does the king arrange a marriage for his daughter?' Others think you simply wished to see her. But I know your purpose, my lord, so let us dance and shout for joy, for this is a happy day for the maiden." But King Agamemnon was dismayed when he heard the queen had come.

He muttered to himself, "What shall I say to my wife? For who can deny that she has rightly come for her daughter's wedding? But what will she say when she learns my true purpose? And what of the maiden? She will cry, 'Father, would you kill me?' And little Orestes will wail, not understanding, for he is just a babe. Cursed be Paris, who has brought this misery upon us!" Just then Menelaus returned, saying he regretted his harsh words. "Why should your daughter die for me? What has she to do with Helen? Let the army be disbanded rather than commit such a wrong." King Agamemnon said, "But how can I escape this dilemma? The whole host will force me to do this deed." "Not so," said Menelaus, "if you send the maiden back to Argos." " asked the king. "Calchas or Odysseus will reveal that I broke my promise, and if I flee to Argos, they will come and destroy my city. Woe is me, what a dire strait I am in!

But see to it, my brother, that Clytemnestra hears nothing of this." As he finished speaking, the queen herself approached the tent, riding in a chariot with her daughter beside her. She ordered attendants to carefully unload the caskets she had brought for her daughter, and others to help her daughter alight, and still another to take the little Orestes. Then Iphigenia greeted her father, "You have done well to send for me, Father." "True, and yet not true, my child." "You do not look pleased to see me, Father." "A king who commands an army has many cares." "Put aside your cares for a while and give yourself to me." "I am overjoyed to see you." "Joyful? Then why do you weep?" "I weep because you must be apart from me for a long time." "Curse all these wars and troubles!" "They will bring ruin to many, and to me most miserably of all." "Are you going on a journey without me, Father?" "Yes, and you also have a journey to make."

"Must I go alone, or with my mother?" "Alone; neither father nor mother may accompany you." "Are you sending me to dwell elsewhere?" "Hush, my child; such things are not for maidens to ask." "Very well, Father. Settle matters with the Phrygians, then hurry home." "First I must offer a sacrifice to the gods." "That is good; the gods deserve honor." "Yes, and you shall stand close to the altar." "Will I lead the dances, Father?" "Oh, my child, how I envy you in your innocence! Now go inside the tent; but first kiss me and give me your hand, for you shall be parted from your father for many days." When she had gone inside, he cried, "O fair bosom, lovely cheeks, and golden hair of my child! O city of Priam, what sorrow you bring upon me! But I must say no more." Then he turned to the queen and excused himself for weeping when he should have rejoiced over his daughter's marriage.

When she asked about the bridegroom, he told her his name was Achilles, son of Peleus and Thetis, daughter of Nereus of the sea, and that he lived in Phthia. When she asked about the date, he said it would be within the same month, on the first lucky day, and that the wedding would take place where the bridegroom was, in the camp. "I myself," said the king, "will give the maiden to her husband." "But where," asked the queen, "shall I be?" "You must return to Argos and care for the maidens there." "You say I must return? Then who will hold the torch for the bride?" "I will do what is needful. It is not proper for you to be present when the whole army is gathered." "Yet it is proper for a mother to give her daughter in marriage." "But the maidens at home should not be left alone." "They are well guarded in their chambers." "Be persuaded, lady." "No: you must manage what is outside the home, but I will manage what is within."

Just then Achilles came to tell the king that the army was growing restless, saying that unless they could set sail for Troy soon, they would return each to his own country. When the queen heard his name—for he had said to a servant, "Tell your master that Achilles, son of Peleus, wishes to speak with him"—she came out of the tent, greeted him, and asked him to give her his right hand. When the young man blushed, for it was not customary for men to speak with women, she said, "Why are you ashamed, since you are about to marry my daughter?" He answered, "What do you mean, lady? I am astonished at your words." "Often men feel shy when they meet new relatives and talk turns to marriage." "But, lady, I was never a suitor for your daughter's hand, nor have the sons of Atreus said anything to me about this." The queen was utterly astonished, crying, "This is shameful indeed, that I should seek a husband for my daughter in such a way!"

Achilles was about to leave to question the king when the old servant who had carried the first letter came out and urged him to stay. Once he was assured he would not be punished for telling the truth, he revealed the whole plot. When the queen heard it, she cried to Achilles, "O son of Thetis of the sea! Help me now in this crisis, and help this maiden who has been called your bride, though it is false. It would be a disgrace to you if such wrong is done in your name, for it is your name that has destroyed us. And I have no altar to flee to, nor any friend but you in this army." Achilles answered, "Lady, I learned from Chiron, the most righteous of men, to be true and honest. If the sons of Atreus govern rightly, I obey them; if not, I do not. Know then that your daughter, though only in name my bride, shall not be slain by her father.

If she dies, my name will be stained with dishonor, for it was through me you were persuaded to come here. This sword will soon see whether anyone dares take this maiden from me." At that moment King Agamemnon came out, saying all was ready for the wedding and they awaited the bride, not knowing the queen had learned everything. She said, "Tell me, do you intend to slay your daughter and mine?" He was silent, not knowing what to say, and she reproached him bitterly, reminding him that she had been a faithful, loving wife, and this was how he repaid her. When she finished, the maiden came out of the tent, holding little Orestes in her arms, and threw herself at her father's feet, begging, "Father, I wish I had the voice of Orpheus, who could move even rocks, that I might persuade you. But all I have are these tears. I am your child; do not kill me before my time. This light is sweet to behold; do not drive me into the darkness.

I was the first to call you father, and you called me your child. You said, 'Someday, my child, I shall see you happily married.' And I replied, 'I will care for you in your old age and repay you for all your kindness.' This I remember, but you have forgotten, for you are ready to slay me. Do not, I beg you, by Pelops your grandsire, and Atreus your father, and by my mother, who suffered in giving me birth and now suffers again. And you, my little brother, though only a babe, help me. Weep for me, beg your father not to kill your sister. O father, though he is silent, he pleads with you. For his sake, and mine, have pity on me and spare my life." But the king was torn with indecision, for a terrible necessity was upon him: the army could not sail to Troy unless this deed was done.

While he hesitated, Achilles arrived, saying there was a horrible riot in the camp; the soldiers were demanding the maiden be sacrificed, and when he tried to stop them, they stoned him, and even his own Myrmidons turned against him. Nevertheless, he declared he would fight for the maiden to the last, and that there were faithful men who would stand by him. But when the maiden heard this, she stepped forward and said, "Listen, Mother. Do not be angry with Father, for we cannot fight fate. We must also think of this young man; his help would be useless, and he would perish. Therefore I am resolved to die. All Greece depends on me; without my death, the ships cannot sail, nor can Troy be taken. You bore me, Mother, not only for yourself, but for this whole people. So I will give myself for them. Offer me as a sacrifice, and let the Greeks capture Troy, for this shall be my eternal memorial."

Then Achilles said, "Lady, I would count myself most fortunate if the gods granted you to be my wife, for I love your noble spirit. And if you will, I will take you to my home, and I doubt not I could save you, even against all the Greeks." But the maiden answered, "I have spoken with full purpose. I will let no man die for me; rather, I will save this land of Greece." Achilles said, "If this be your will, lady, I cannot object, for what you do is noble." Nor was she persuaded from her purpose, despite her mother's tears. So the attendants led her to the grove of Artemis, where an altar had been built, and the whole Greek army gathered round. When the king saw her going to her death, he covered his face with his cloak. But she stood before him and said, "I give my body willingly to die for my country and for all Greece. I pray the gods grant you victory in this war and safe return to your homes.

Now let no man touch me, for I will die with a good heart." All marveled at her courage. The army stood watching the maiden, the priest, and the altar. Then a marvelous thing happened. Suddenly, the maiden was gone. No one knew where she had vanished. In her place lay a great hind, gasping, and the altar was red with its blood. Calchas cried, "See this, Greeks! The goddess has provided this offering instead of the maiden, for she would not have her altar defiled by innocent blood. Be of good courage, and each man return to his ship, for this day you shall sail across the sea to Troy." Then the goddess carried the maiden to the land of the Taurians, where she had a temple and altar. On this altar, the king of that land would sacrifice any Greek stranger who was driven there by storms, for no one went willingly. The king was named Thoas, which in the Greek tongue means 'swift of foot.'

Now when the maiden had been there many years, she dreamed a dream. In the dream, she seemed to have left the land of the Taurians and to be dwelling in Argos, her birthplace. As she slept in the women's quarters, a great earthquake shook the palace of her fathers, toppling it, until only one pillar remained standing. As she looked at this pillar, yellow hair, like a man's, seemed to grow upon it, and it spoke with a human voice. She performed her customary ritual for sacrificial strangers: purifying it with water, weeping all the while. She interpreted the dream as meaning her brother Orestes was dead, for male children are the pillars of a house, and she alone was left to her father's line. It happened that at that very time, Orestes, with his friend Pylades, sailed to the land of the Taurians in a ship. The reason for his coming was this: after he had slain his mother to avenge his father, King Agamemnon, the Furies pursued him.

Apollo, who had commanded the deed, sent him to Athens to be judged. Though he was acquitted, the Furies still tormented him. So Apollo ordered him to sail to the Taurians, take the image of Artemis, and bring it to Athens, promising rest thereafter. When the two arrived, they saw the altar red with the blood of past victims. Orestes doubted they could accomplish their task, for the temple walls were high and the gates secure. He would have fled back to the ship, but Pylades refused, saying they were not ones to abandon a mission. Instead, he counseled they hide by day in a cave near the shore, away from the ship, and at night creep into the temple through a gap between the pillars, seize the image, and escape. So they hid in the sea-cave. But it chanced that herdsmen were pasturing their oxen near the shore, and one of them, coming near the cave, spied the young men sitting inside.

He hurried back and said, "Do you see those sitting yonder? Surely they are gods," for the strangers were exceedingly tall and handsome, which in that land was a sign of divinity. Some began to pray, thinking they might be the Twin Brethren or sons of Nereus. But another laughed, "Not so; these are shipwrecked men hiding, knowing we sacrifice strangers to our gods." The others agreed, and they decided to seize the men for sacrifice. But while they hesitated, Orestes rushed out of the cave in a fit of madness, crying, "Pylades, do you see that dragon from hell? And that one who breathes fire, holding my mother to cast her upon me?" He bellowed like a bull, then howled like a dog, possessed by the Furies. The herdsmen, terrified, sat down in fear.

But when Orestes drew his sword and leapt like a lion into the herd, slaying the beasts (for in his madness he fought the Furies), the herdsmen blew on their conch shells, summoning the people of the land, for they feared the young men's strength. When a crowd gathered, they began to throw stones and javelins at the two. Orestes' madness began to abate, and Pylades tended him, wiping the foam from his mouth and shielding him with his cloak. When Orestes came to his senses and saw their peril, he groaned, "We must die, Pylades, but let us die as brave men. Draw your sword and follow me!" The people dared not face them directly, but some fled, others hurled stones. Yet no one could wound them. At last, a large crowd surrounded them, knocked the swords from their hands with stones, bound them, and took them to King Thoas. The king ordered them taken to the temple, so the priestess could deal with them according to custom.

So they brought the young men in bonds to the temple. The people knew the name of one, for they heard his companion call him, but the other remained unknown. When Iphigenia saw them, she ordered the people to loose their bonds, for being sacred to the goddess, they were free. Then, assuming they were brothers, she asked, "Who is your mother, your father, and your sister, if you have one? She shall lose noble brothers this day. And whence do you come?" Orestes replied, "What do you mean, lady, by lamenting over us? I consider it foolish for one doomed to die to bemoan himself. Pity us not; we know what manner of sacrifices you practice here." "Tell me, which of you is called Pylades?" "Not I, but this my companion." "Of what city in Greece are you? Are you brothers by birth?" "We are brothers in friendship, not in blood." "And what is your name?" "That I will not tell. You have power over my body, but not over my name."

"Will you not tell me your country?" When he said his country was Argos, she asked him many questions—about Troy, Helen, Calchas, and Odysseus. Finally she asked, "And Achilles, son of Thetis of the sea, is he still alive?" "He is dead, and his marriage at Aulis came to nothing." "A false marriage it was, as some well know." "Who are you that ask about matters in Greece?" "I am of Greek birth, but was brought here as a child. But there was a certain Agamemnon, son of Atreus; what of him?" "I do not know. Lady, drop this subject." "Please, do me a kindness and tell me." "He is dead." "Alas! How did he die?" "Why do you grieve? Are you his kin?" "It is sad to think of his greatness, and now he is gone." "He was killed most miserably by a woman, but ask no more." "Just one thing more: is his wife still alive?" "No, for the son she bore killed her, avenging his father." "A terrible deed, but just."

"Just he is indeed, but the gods do not favor him." "Did the king have any other child?" "One daughter, Electra by name." "And is his son still alive?" "He is alive, but no man is more miserable." When Iphigenia heard that he was alive, she realized she had been deceived by her dreams. A plan formed in her heart, and she said to Orestes, "Listen now, for I have something to say that will benefit us both. If I spare your life, will you carry news of me to Argos and bear a tablet from me to my friends? I have such a tablet, written by a fellow captive who pitied me, knowing I was not responsible for his death but the law of the goddess. I have found no one yet to carry it. But you seem noble and familiar with Argos. Take this tablet and your life as reward, and let this man be sacrificed to the goddess." Orestes replied, "Your offer is generous, lady, except in one thing. I will not let this man die in my place.

I am the one who planned this voyage, and he came only to help me in my troubles. It would be a great wrong for him to suffer while I escape. Give the tablet to him. He will carry it to Argos, and you shall have what you desire. As for me, let them slay me." "Well spoken, young man. You are clearly of noble birth. May the gods grant that my own brother—for I have a brother, though he is far away—may be such as you. So be it. This man will depart with the tablet, and you shall die." Then Orestes asked how he would be put to death. She told him she did not slay the victims herself, but there were ministers in the temple appointed for that, while she prepared them for sacrifice. His body would be burned with fire. Orestes expressed a wish that his sister could honor him in death, and she said, "That cannot be, for she is far away from this strange land.

But since you are from Argos, I myself will adorn your tomb and pour olive oil and honey upon your ashes." Then she left to fetch the tablet, ordering the attendants to guard the young men without bonds. When she was gone, Orestes said to Pylades, "Pylades, what do you think? Who is this maiden? She knew much about affairs in Troy and Argos, and of Calchas and Achilles. And she wept over Agamemnon. She must be from Argos." Pylades answered, "I cannot say; everyone knows what happened to the king. But hear this: it would shame me to live if you must die. I sailed with you, and I will die with you. Otherwise, men will think ill of me in Argos and Phocis, believing I betrayed you or murdered you for your kingdom, marrying your sister who inherits. No, I will die with you, and my body shall burn with yours." Orestes answered, "I must bear my own troubles. It would be shameful for me to destroy you, who only sought to help.

As for me, given how the gods treat me, it is best I die. You are fortunate, and your house is blessed, but mine is accursed. Go, and my sister, whom I have given to you as wife, shall bear your children, and so my father's house will not perish. I charge you: when you return safely to Argos, build a tomb for me, and my sister shall offer her hair and tears there. Tell her I died, slain by a woman of Argos who offered me as a sacrifice. And do not desert my sister, but be faithful to her. Farewell, loyal friend and companion in my trials; for indeed I die, and Apollo has lied to me with false prophecies." Pylades swore he would build the tomb and be a true husband to his sister. Then Iphigenia returned, holding a tablet. She said, "Here is the tablet. But I fear the bearer may pay it no heed once he reaches Greece. So I wish to bind him with an oath that he will deliver it to its intended recipients in Argos."

Orestes agreed, adding that she should also swear to save one of them from death. So she swore by Artemis to persuade the king and free Pylades, and Pylades swore by Zeus to deliver the tablet. Then he asked, "But what if I am shipwrecked and the tablet lost?" "I will tell you its contents," she said. "If it perishes, you shall repeat them orally; otherwise, deliver it as I say." "And to whom shall I give it?" "To Orestes, son of Agamemnon. '" At this, Orestes interrupted, "Where is this Iphigenia? Has the dead returned among the living?" "You see her in me. bid you bring me to Argos before I die, taking me from this altar red with strangers' blood, where I serve.' And if Orestes wonders how I live, say that Artemis put a hind in my place, and the priest, thinking he struck me, slew the beast, and the goddess brought me here." Then Pylades said, "My oath is easy to keep. Orestes, take this tablet from your sister."

Orestes embraced her, crying out (for she turned away in confusion), "O my sister, do not turn from me; I am your brother, whom you never expected to see again." Still doubting, he revealed private tokens: the tapestry she had woven depicting the strife between Atreus and Thyestes over the golden lamb; the lock of hair she had given at Aulis; and the ancient spear of Pelops, with which he slew Oenomaus and won Hippodamia, left in her chamber at Argos. Then she knew he was indeed Orestes, whom she had held as a baby. They talked joyfully for a while, sharing all that had happened. Pylades reminded them, "Greetings of friends are sweet after long parting, but we must plan how to escape this barbarous land." Yet Iphigenia first asked, "Tell me, how fares my sister Electra?" "She is married," said Orestes, "to this man, Pylades, whom you see." "Of what country is he and who is his father?"

"His father is Strophius the Phocian, and he is a kinsman, for his mother was daughter of Atreus. Moreover, he is my dearest friend." Then Orestes explained why he had come: to take the image of Artemis and thus be freed from his madness, and to bring his sister home. He said, "Help me, sister, so that we may bear away the goddess's image. Then I shall be cured, and you will return to your native land, and the house of our father shall prosper. But if we fail, we shall all perish." Iphigenia pondered how it could be done, then said, "I have a plan. I shall tell the king you have murdered your mother and cannot be sacrificed until purified in the sea. I shall also say you have touched the image, which must be purified likewise. I alone may carry the image, so I will bear it to the shore. Pylades, I shall say, is similarly polluted. Thus we three shall make our way to the ship, which you must have ready."

Then she prayed to Artemis: "Great goddess, who brought me safe from Aulis, bring me and these with me safely to Greece, so that men may know Apollo's oracle true. Do not be unwilling to leave this barbarous land and dwell in the fair city of Athens." After this, King Thoas came, asking whether the strangers had been sacrificed and their bodies burned. Iphigenia said, "These were unclean sacrifices, O King." "How do you know?" "The image of the goddess turned of its own accord and covered its face with its hands." "What evil had they done?" "They murdered their mother and were banished from Greece." "Monstrous! We barbarians never do such deeds. What do you propose?" "We must purify the strangers before sacrifice." "With river water or sea?" "With the sea, for the sea washes away all evil among men." "Well, it is close by the temple walls." "Yes, but I must find a place apart from men."

"Go where you will; I would not see forbidden things." "The image also must be purified." "Yes, if the murderers' pollution touched it. This is well thought." She instructed the king to have the strangers brought out, bound and veiled. Guards would accompany her, but the people must stay indoors to avoid defilement; he himself should remain in the temple, purifying it with fire, and cover his head as they passed. "Do not worry," she said, "if I seem to be long." "Take your time," he said. So guards led the two young men from the temple, and Iphigenia led them toward the ship. When they neared the shore, she made them halt, saying she had rites to perform. She took the chain binding the young men, and sang a strange song of enchantment. The guards waited long, then fearing the strangers had slain the priestess, they rose. At the sea, they saw the ship ready: fifty sailors at the oars, and the two young men unbound on the shore.

Sailors were pulling the ship close for boarding. The guards seized the rudder, crying, "Who are you that steal our priestess and the goddess's image?" "I am Orestes," he replied, "and I take my sister." The guards grabbed Iphigenia, but the sailors leapt from the ship, and a fierce fight broke out with fists and feet, for neither side had swords. The stronger, more skilled sailors drove the king's men back, wounded. The guards retreated to a bank and hurled stones, but archers on the stern shot arrows. Fearing for his sister, Orestes leapt into the sea, lifted her onto his shoulder, and set her in the ship, with the image. Pylades shouted, "To your oars, sailors! Smite the sea, for we have what we came for!" They rowed powerfully; while in the harbor all went well, but in the open sea a great wave struck, for a violent wind drove them back. A guard saw this and ran to King Thoas.

The king hastily sent messengers on horseback to summon the people against Orestes. But as he commanded, the goddess Athene appeared above him, saying, "Cease, King Thoas, from pursuing these men; for Orestes came here by Apollo's command, and I have persuaded Poseidon to calm the sea for his return." King Thoas answered, "As you will, goddess. Though Orestes has taken his sister and the image, I let go my anger, for who can fight against the gods?" So Orestes departed, came to his own country, and dwelt in peace, freed from his madness, as Apollo had promised.