ivory carvings of animals, a gold box inlaid with amber and an alabaster statuette of a young girl. I picked up the small statue and noted the detail in her face, her hair and even in the folds of her robe. In the hands of the skilled sculptor, the white stone looked like a living person, with flowing fabric draped around her body.
I replaced the girl carefully and looked along the opposite wall. There was a row of vases in the shape of naked women, some not very flattering, and another row of two-handled gold goblets. All this in a room they kept for guests! I waved my lamp into one of the corners and saw the glimmer of yet more ornaments, but I could barely keep my eyes open. They’d have to wait until morning.
Lamb skins lay on the bed and I tumbled onto them, grateful to feel their warmth and softness. I pulled up the woollen covers and immediately fell asleep.
Chapter FIVE
Iphigenia
E arly the next morning I had just joined Iphigenia in the entrance hall when Clytemnestra swept in and embraced her daughter.
“Try not to be scared,” Clytemnestra whispered. Then she stepped back and spoke more formally, her words intended for the officials encircling them. “Now is the time for the princess to cast off childish things and start her life as a woman. Tonight I will sacrifice to the goddess Hera. May the gods bless my daughter and grant her many strong sons.”
One of the servants ran past me and placed something small in Clytemnestra’s hand. Clytemnestra presented it to Iphigenia. “Here is a gift from your childhood home. May it give you good fortune always.”
I saw Iphigenia’s lip quiver. “A little lion.”
Clytemnestra nodded. “The Lion of Atreus, ready to guard you in your married life.”
Iphigenia flung her arms around her mother for one last time and then rushed to her younger sister, unable to stem the tears any longer.
“Please don’t let people forget me, Electra,” she sobbed. “And tell baby brother about the games we played.”
“I don’t want you to go,” the six-year old whimpered.
I looked away, wondering if Iphigenia would see her sister and brother again. Perhaps the distance between Mycenae and Achilles’ home wasn’t too great, but some husbands didn’t allow their wives to travel, especially if they were expecting a child. And some wives were always expecting a child.
Clytemnestra stepped away from the two girls and beckoned to me. Leaning close, her voice was a whisper. “Forget what I said last night. It’s hard for a wife when a husband goes to war and her daughter leaves to be married.” She placed something in my hand. “Here, my gift to you. It’s a ceremonial knife, but still effective. Do not be afraid to use it on any man who threatens Iphigenia.”
I examined the hilt embossed with a silver lion’s head. It was elegant and light, but when I slipped the well-polished blade from the leather sheath, I realised it could be lethal.
“You think Iphigenia’s in danger?” I gasped. I meant danger beyond that of marriage.
Her eyes flashed at me. “A king’s daughter is always in danger. You would be wise to remember that.”
Returning the knife to its sheath and then tucking it into the small pocket inside my cloak, I nodded, pretending I understood. To my relief, Phoebus strode into the hall and distracted us.
“The mule cart and the three attendants are ready, Lady Clytemnestra,” he said, bowing his head. “I’ve seen to the princess’ clothes chest. Shall I escort Iphigenia and Neomene down the steps?”
“Thank you, Phoebus. You take them now. I’ve said my farewells and have no wish to see my daughter ride away.”
Iphigenia pulled away from her sister, wiped her eyes and patted the head of the stone statue. “Goodbye, Bully.” She glanced at her mother, but finding Clytemnestra staring blankly at the wall paintings, she hurried to the doors and waited for me to catch up.
When we stepped out onto the
I replaced the girl carefully and looked along the opposite wall. There was a row of vases in the shape of naked women, some not very flattering, and another row of two-handled gold goblets. All this in a room they kept for guests! I waved my lamp into one of the corners and saw the glimmer of yet more ornaments, but I could barely keep my eyes open. They’d have to wait until morning.
Lamb skins lay on the bed and I tumbled onto them, grateful to feel their warmth and softness. I pulled up the woollen covers and immediately fell asleep.
Chapter FIVE
Iphigenia
E arly the next morning I had just joined Iphigenia in the entrance hall when Clytemnestra swept in and embraced her daughter.
“Try not to be scared,” Clytemnestra whispered. Then she stepped back and spoke more formally, her words intended for the officials encircling them. “Now is the time for the princess to cast off childish things and start her life as a woman. Tonight I will sacrifice to the goddess Hera. May the gods bless my daughter and grant her many strong sons.”
One of the servants ran past me and placed something small in Clytemnestra’s hand. Clytemnestra presented it to Iphigenia. “Here is a gift from your childhood home. May it give you good fortune always.”
I saw Iphigenia’s lip quiver. “A little lion.”
Clytemnestra nodded. “The Lion of Atreus, ready to guard you in your married life.”
Iphigenia flung her arms around her mother for one last time and then rushed to her younger sister, unable to stem the tears any longer.
“Please don’t let people forget me, Electra,” she sobbed. “And tell baby brother about the games we played.”
“I don’t want you to go,” the six-year old whimpered.
I looked away, wondering if Iphigenia would see her sister and brother again. Perhaps the distance between Mycenae and Achilles’ home wasn’t too great, but some husbands didn’t allow their wives to travel, especially if they were expecting a child. And some wives were always expecting a child.
Clytemnestra stepped away from the two girls and beckoned to me. Leaning close, her voice was a whisper. “Forget what I said last night. It’s hard for a wife when a husband goes to war and her daughter leaves to be married.” She placed something in my hand. “Here, my gift to you. It’s a ceremonial knife, but still effective. Do not be afraid to use it on any man who threatens Iphigenia.”
I examined the hilt embossed with a silver lion’s head. It was elegant and light, but when I slipped the well-polished blade from the leather sheath, I realised it could be lethal.
“You think Iphigenia’s in danger?” I gasped. I meant danger beyond that of marriage.
Her eyes flashed at me. “A king’s daughter is always in danger. You would be wise to remember that.”
Returning the knife to its sheath and then tucking it into the small pocket inside my cloak, I nodded, pretending I understood. To my relief, Phoebus strode into the hall and distracted us.
“The mule cart and the three attendants are ready, Lady Clytemnestra,” he said, bowing his head. “I’ve seen to the princess’ clothes chest. Shall I escort Iphigenia and Neomene down the steps?”
“Thank you, Phoebus. You take them now. I’ve said my farewells and have no wish to see my daughter ride away.”
Iphigenia pulled away from her sister, wiped her eyes and patted the head of the stone statue. “Goodbye, Bully.” She glanced at her mother, but finding Clytemnestra staring blankly at the wall paintings, she hurried to the doors and waited for me to catch up.
When we stepped out onto the
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