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.'