The House of Atreus bears a curse. One steeped in blood and nourished by decades of violence.
Klytemnestra knew this when she married Agamemnon, but being a princess in Sparta doesn't leave you with much choice, though she longs for it. The Fates s...
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Iphigenia slowly pulls away from me and as I look down at her tear-streaked face and wide eyes, my chest constricts once again. I still sometimes feel a phantom pain in my belly, my abdomen, like a faded echo even though it's been almost two decades now since I lost my son. No man will ever know the pain of losing a child you've carried with you, inside of you for so long. It's like losing a part of you. And now they mean to take away another part of me, chip away another piece of my heart until there's nothing left of it. Until they leave me barren and empty.
My daughter opens her mouth to say something but is interrupted by a sudden rustle of voices from outside. We look at each other, alarmed. Have they come to take her already? Iphigenia's hands close around mine and she clings to me like a little child. I try to stay calm as I pry her fists open slowly and stand up from the bunk we've been huddled on, like frightened animals. Shaking my head at myself, I walk towards the entrance of the tent. I've let myself slip into something I am not.
Take courage, I tell myself. You are not scared. I push my shoulders back and steel myself, arranging my face carefully into an expression of confidence and pull the flaps open so I can see what's going on.
There are men outside. But they're not coming towards us. They walk past our tent and down a path to my right. I can hear more voices coming from somewhere between the tents ahead. A murmur of entangled sounds, too unclear to make out. I furrow my brow and turn around towards Iphigenia, motioning for her to stand up and follow me. She shakes her head, eyes still large and glassy. I don't know what propels me to do so, maybe the thought that we might use the commotion as a distraction to run. Run where, I don't know. But I dart back inside and grab her wrist, tugging her along with me.
She grimaces but allows herself to be led outside. She looks around, more alarmed than before. I stop by the entrance and turn around to face her. My hands cup her cheeks and I swipe my thumbs under her eyes, wiping away the remnants of tears.
"Don't allow them to see you cry, Iphia," I say. "It gives them power over you." She takes a shuddering breath, bites her lip and nods. "Now, straighten your back and lift your chin but stay behind me." She nods again and I motion her forward, following the men that are walking in pairs or small groups, just as curious as us, it seems.
We pass the narrow paths between tents, towards the noise ahead until we reach a small open space where a group of soldiers has gathered. No one seems to pay us any mind or even notice us as we join the back of the crowd. The men in front of us crane their necks and try to look above the heads of those standing before them. For a moment I think it's probably just another fistfight taking place and I almost turn away, but then I hear Achilles' voice rising above the chatter.
"Fellow Acheans, brothers in arms." The sound of his words carries across the little square, all the way to where we stand. "We all came here, to these shores, to join forces and fight the Trojans. We came here because we felt a call to greatness. Because we sought to find glory in battle."
