Vengeance in Mycenae

The time has come to avenge my daughter's death.

The trireme with Agamemnon's flags lingered outside to the harbor until the tide could help them in. Now, the entire polis of Mycenae seems to hold its collective breath. From my position on the palace's upper veranda, I can see the people below pausing, just a moment, to consider the incoming ship. They invariably look up towards the palace, then continue on their ways. I can't see their facial expressions. Perhaps some are planning to align themselves with their estranged king.

Or maybe their loyalty lies with me. I have ruled them on my own these past ten years. I've guided Mycenae through plague, tax reform, increased agricultural production, and a successful housing program. I am the Queen they deserve.

Most likely, they will hang back and allow the local royalty to squabble without interference. I can't blame a fisherman or artisan for caring more about the day's work than which noble's buttocks grace the king's throne.

"Mother?"

The gentle voice snaps me out of my reverie. I turn to see my second, and only living daughter: Elektra. She still wears the masculine tunic and blue cloak she had ridden in, her long black curls barely tamed up in braids.

The sight of her face warms my heart. "My dearest!" I embrace her. "How was the journey?"

"Very pleasant, thank you." She presents me with two parchment scrolls. The first has the seal of Megara. "I have a letter for you from King Tiophanes of Megara, agreeing to your proposed trade deal. We can expect the first shipment of wool next week."

"Well done, my dear!" I say proudly. I open the other scroll, which bears the seal of Delphi. I read aloud: "'Vengeance begets Justice.'"

A thrill of vindication bubbles upwards from my core. I grin and ring the bell, then order my chambermaid to fetch Lord Aegisthus.

When the girl is out of earshot, Elektra takes my hand affectionately. "The priests at Delphi cautioned me, Mother, and I must caution you too: even the gods' most simple phrases can be difficult to interpret correctly."

I squeeze my daughter and reply, "Thank you, my dear. I am certain that in most cases, this is true."

My lover appears at my door. He bows respectfully to Elektra and me. "You called for me, Madam?"

"Aegisthus, order a victory feast," I tell him. "We will sacrifice the finest possible bull to Apollo." I look back to the harbor, where my murderous husband's trireme draws inevitably closer. "The God of the Sun and I have an enemy in common."

Aegisthus bows again and obeys.

Elektra and I part to prepare ourselves. I dress in the King's Chambers, which I'd claimed for myself the moment Agamemnon left for Troy. I choose a brilliant red bodice and a tiered skirt of red, orange, and yellow--the colors of the sunrise. I feel as certain of Apollo's blessing as I do of the sun's shining warmth. I have my chambermaid dress my hair in my tallest polos, fixing my black and silver curls up with ivory pins.

Elektra meets me on the main floor portico, dressed and styled in similar feminine grandeur. The royal household finishes its preparations as Agamemnon's trireme drops anchor. We watch as his longboats lower and launch. Aegisthus leads a fine, fair bull with broad, smooth horns to the center of the courtyard and binds it there, prepared for sacrifice. Agamemnon begins a royal procession from the harbor up towards the palace.

My household and I take our ceremonial positions. I stand in the King's place, with Elektra in the Queen's. My sons stand dutifully behind their elder sister. Courtiers and servants line the courtyard edges.

As Agamemnon approaches, it becomes clear that he is not alone on his horse. A young woman in a long saffron-yellow robe sits on the saddle in front of him, carrying a small, dark-haired baby.

"Bastard," I say, only loud enough for Elektra to hear. "If she were anything less than royalty, Agamemnon would have bundled her in with his other spoils of war."

"He must acknowledge the baby as his," Elektra responds. "He would have murdered a child of Troy."

We share a grave look. Agamemnon had murdered Mycenae's eldest princess and abandoned the polis for a decade… and now he expects to return as King, with a new Queen.

Very well. They can all die as a family.

The procession draws nearer, and their faces come into closer focus. Agamemnon grins triumphantly. His mistress stares ahead blankly, as if quietly accepting her fate.

"No curiosity to see her new home," Elektra observes. "No fear of the unknown. No excitement to be the new queen. Mother, she might not be a rival."

She certainly is a strange creature. She has pretty, dark Trojan features and long, straight, dark brown hair. Why, she is younger than Elektra. This girl has seen fifteen summers at most.

The procession reaches the courtyard. Agamemnon dismounts with the practiced ease of a soldier. He lifts his young mistress down.

The moment the girl's feet touch the ground, something changes. Her eyes snap to the bull, then to me. Her expression softens.

She's… happy to see me?

"Congratulations on your victory in Troy, King Agamemnon," I proclaim.

"Thank you, Klytemnestra," he replies, omitting my royal title. He draws his sword and holds it horizontally in front of him. "Would you bless the homecoming of my blade?"

That ancient rite hadn't been invoked in generations, but I see no way to refuse. I step down from the portico. The girl in the yellow dress caresses her sleeping baby and nods at me. I approach.

Just before I can touch the blade, Agamemnon adjusts his grip on the hilt. His young mistress is even faster. She jabs her fingers up into Agamemnon's underarm. The warrior king bellows with pain and lurches forward. I wrench the sword out of his hands and see the girl snatch his daggers. She tosses them out of reach and backs away, soothing her now-crying baby.

"Trojan asp!" Agamemnon roars. He looks at me and his eyes suddenly widen.

I'm sure he realizes he is unarmed, face to face with the woman he angered, abandoned, and intended to replace. He says, "If you strike me down, you'll have to fight the entire army that sacked Troy."

"Will I?" I ask. His sword is heavy in my hands. "You think you're that popular?"

I tap his golden circlet with his blade and watch it fall to the ground. The surrounding Myceneans, his people and mine, stand by.

I walk back up the portico steps and resume the King's place. I hand the sword to Elektra.

Agamemnon swears and looks around, first demanding an ally to step forward, then begging for one. No one answers him.

"Agamemnon, Son of Atreus!" I proclaim. "For the sacrifice of your own daughter, I declare you a murderer. For the murder of a Princess of Mycenae, I declare you a traitor. In the name of Apollo and the People of Mycenae, I condemn you to death."

Agamemnon opens his mouth to object, but I gesture. Aegisthus steps forward and drives an axe into Agamemnon's chest, just between breastplate and neck. The traitor falls to the ground, never again offending the gods, Mycenae, or me.

Elektra watches her estranged father's death dispassionately. "If I may, Mother," she says, "I'd like to speak with the girl. She acted like your ally."

"She acted like an oracle," I answer. "She knew what I was going to do, before I did it." Then I declare to the assembled crowd: "Let the bull be sacrificed to Lord Apollo. Let the feast begin!"

Cheers and activity fill the courtyard.

Elektra follows me back down the portico steps. The Trojan princess sits on the bottom step, nursing her baby, once again staring blankly ahead of her.

"Is it male or female?" I ask her.

She doesn't move.

I snap my fingers in front of her face and she startles. Then she looks up at me with polite attention.

"Is the baby male or female?"

"Male," she says.

"Who is his father?" I ask.

"I am his only parent."

Elektra takes a seat beside the girl. "We need to know if there is a son of Agamemnon who will seek vengeance. My brothers understand our sister's justice, but…"

The girl shakes her head. "I am his only parent. He may have been sired by Ajax, who attacked me in the Temple of Apollo. Or maybe it was one of the soldiers after that. There were a lot of them, before the Achaens realized my value as a daughter of King Priam." She shrugs and shifts the nursing baby to her other breast. "Maybe it was Agamemnon, who violated me gently, with just as little invitation as all the others. It may as well have been Lord Apollo himself."

She fixes me with serious, dark eyes.

"I am this child's only parent," she repeats. "And you, Queen Klytemnestra of Mycenae, sister of my beloved sister-in-law Helen." She takes my hand in a familiar, even loving way. "You will be his godsmother."

I ask, "What is your name, child?"

"Princess Kassandra of Troy," she answers. "But there is no more Troy, so I am not a princess anymore."

I look at Elektra, who gives me a hopeful nod.

"Welcome home, Kassandra of Mycenae," I say.

The girl and Elektra both beam at me.

Kassandra's baby finishes nursing. She covers herself up and burps him gently on her lap. Her gaze wanders into the distance, her expression once again flat. "I had thought that my visions showed Helen holding my baby. But now I think it was you. He will be happy here."

Elektra helps Kassandra to her feet. The girl holds out her baby to me and I take him in my arms. He grabs at my necklace, cooing curiously. I cannot hold a baby, feel his warmth, and smell his hair; without adoring him.

All day, my head had been full of grief and rage over Iphigenia's unnecessary death. Now, Apollo has given me two more children to love. I thank the God of the Sun in my prayers, cover the baby's soft cheek with kisses, and lead Kassandra into her new home.