Hero Tales Page 11

  IPHIGENIA

  After nearly ten years of preparation, the princes and warriors ofGreece gathered their ships and men together at Aulis, ready to makewar upon Troy. A thousand dark-hulled vessels were moored in theharbor; and a hundred thousand brave men were on board, ready to followtheir leaders whithersoever they should order.

  Chief of all that host was mighty Agamemnon, king of men. He was cladin flashing armor, and his mind was filled with overweening pride whenhe thought how high he stood among the warriors, and that his men werethe goodliest and bravest of all that host.

  Next to him was Menelaus, silent and discreet, by no means skilledabove his fellows, and yet, by reason of his noble heart, beloved andhonored by all the Greeks; and it was to avenge his wrongs that thismighty array of men and ships had been gathered together.

  Odysseus came next, shrewd in counsels, earnest and active. He movedamong the men and ships, inspiring all with zeal and courage.

  There, also, was young Achilles, tall and handsome, and swift of foot.His long hair fell about his shoulders like a shower of gold, and hisgray eyes gleamed like those of the mountain eagle. By the shore layhis trim ships--fifty in all--with thousands of gallant warriors onboard.

  One day it chanced that Agamemnon, while hunting, started a fine stag,and gave it a long chase among the hills and through the wooded dells,until it sought safety in a grove sacred to Artemis, the huntressqueen. The proud king knew that this was a holy place, where beastsand birds might rest secure from harm; yet he cared naught for whatArtemis had ordained, and with his swift arrows he slew the pantingdeer.

  Then was the huntress queen moved with anger, and she declared that theships of the Greeks should not sail from Aulis until the king hadatoned for his crime. A great calm rested upon the sea, and not abreath of air stirred the sails at the mast-heads of the ships.

  Day after day and week after week went by, and not a speck of cloud wasseen in the sky above, and not a ripple on the glassy face of the deep.All the ships had been put in order, new vessels had been built, thewarriors had burnished their armor and overhauled their arms a thousandtimes; and yet no breeze arose to waft them across the sea. And theybegan to murmur, and to talk bitterly against Agamemnon and the chiefs.

  At last Agamemnon sent for Calchas, the soothsayer, and asked him insecret how the anger of the huntress queen might be appeased. And thesoothsayer with tears and lamentations answered that in no wise couldit be done save by the sacrifice to Artemis of the king's daughter,Iphigenia.

  Then the king cried aloud in his grief, and declared that though Troymight stand forever, he would not do that thing; and he bade a heraldgo through the camp, and among the ships by the shore, and bid everyman depart as he chose to his own country. But before the herald hadgone from his tent, behold, his brother, Menelaus, stood before himwith downcast eyes and saddest of hearts.

  "After ten years of labor and hope," said he to Agamemnon, "wouldstthou give up this enterprise, and lose all?"

  Then Odysseus came also into the tent, and added his persuasions tothose of Menelaus. The king hearkened to him, for no man was morecrafty in counsel; and the three recalled the herald, and formed a planwhereby they might please Artemis by doing as she desired. Agamemnon,in his weakness, wrote a letter to Clytemnestra his queen, telling herto bring the maiden, Iphigenia, to Aulis, there to be wedded to thebravest of all the Greeks.

  "_Fail not in this_," added he, "_for the godlike hero will not sailwith us unless my daughter be given to him in marriage_."

  And when he had written the letter, he sealed it, and sent it by aswift messenger to Clytemnestra at Mycenas.

  Nevertheless the king's heart was full of sorrow, and when he was alonehe planned how he might yet save his daughter. Night came, but hecould not sleep; he walked the floor of his tent; he wept and lamentedlike one bereft of reason. At length he sat down, and wrote anotherletter:

  "_Daughter of Leda, send not thy child to Aulis, for I will give her inmarriage at another time_."

  Then he called another messenger, an old and trusted servant of thehousehold, and put this letter into his hands.

  "Take this with all haste to my queen, who, perchance, is even now onher way to Aulis. Stop not by any cool spring in the groves, and letnot thine eyes close for sleep. And see that the chariot bearing thequeen and Iphigenia pass thee not unnoticed."

  The messenger took the letter and hastened away. But hardly had hepassed the line of the tents when Menelaus saw him, and took the letteraway from him. And when he had read it, he went before his brother,and reproached him| with bitter words.

  "Before you were chosen captain of the host," said he, "you were kindand gentle, and the friend of every man. There was nothing that youwould not do to aid your fellows. Now you are puffed up with pride andvain conceit, and care nothing even for those who are your equals inpower. Yet, for all, you are not rid of your well-known cowardice; andwhen you saw that your leadership was likely to be taken away from youunless you obeyed the commands of Artemis, you agreed to do this thing.Now you are trying to break your word, sending secretly to your wife,and bidding her not to bring her daughter to Aulis."

  Then Agamemnon answered, "Why should I destroy my daughter in order towin back thy wife? Let those who wish go with thee to Troy. In no wayam I bound to serve thee."

  "Do as you will," said Menelaus, going away in wrath.

  Soon after this, there came a herald to the king, saying, "Behold, yourdaughter Iphigenia has come as you directed, and with her mother andher little brother Orestes she rests by the spring close to the outerline of tents. The warriors have gathered around them, and arepraising her loveliness, and asking many questions; and some say, 'Theking is sick to see his daughter, whom he loves so deeply, and he hasmade up some excuse to bring her to the camp.' But I know why you havebrought her here; for I have been told about the wedding, and the noblegroom who is to lead her in marriage; and we will rejoice and be glad,because this is a happy day for the maiden."

  Then the king was sorely distressed, and knew not what to do. "Sad,sad, indeed," said he, "is the wedding to which the maiden cometh. Forthe name of the bridegroom is Death."

  At the same time Menelaus came back, sorrowful and repentant. "Youwere right, my brother," said he. "What, indeed, has Iphigenia to dowith this enterprise, and why should the maiden die for me? Send theGreeks to their homes, and let not this great wrong be done."

  "But how can I do that now?" asked Agamemnon. "The warriors, urged onby Odysseus and Calchas, will force me to do the deed. Or, if I fleeto Mycenae, they will follow me, and slay me, and destroy my city. Oh,woe am I, that such a day should ever dawn upon my sight!"

  Even while they spoke together, the queen's chariot drove up to thetent door, and the queen and Iphigenia and the little Orestes alightedquickly, and merrily greeted the king.

  "It is well that you have sent for me, my father," said Iphigenia,caressing him.

  "It may be well, and yet it may not," said Agamemnon. "I am exceedingglad to see thee alive and happy."

  "If you are glad, why then do you weep?"

  "I am sad because thou wilt be so long time away from me."

  "Are you going on a very long voyage, father?"

  "A long voyage and a sad one, my child. And thou, also, hast a journeyto make."

  "Must I make it alone, or will my mother go with me?"

  "Thou must make it alone. Neither father nor mother nor any friend cango with thee, my child."

  "But when shall it be? I pray that you will hasten this matter withTroy, and return home ere then."

  "It may be so. But I must offer a sacrifice to the gods before we sailfrom Aulis."

  "That is well. And may I be present?"

  "Yes, and thou shalt be very close to the altar."

  "Shall I lead in the dances, father?"

  Then the king could say no more, for reason of the great sorrow withinhim; and he kissed the maiden, and sent her into the tent. A
littlewhile afterward, the queen came and spoke to him and asked him aboutthe man to whom their daughter was to be wedded; and Agamemnon, stilldissembling, told her that the hero's name was Achilles, and that hewas the son of old Peleus and the sea-nymph Thetis.

  "And when and where is the marriage to be?" asked the queen.

  "On the first lucky day in the present moon, and here in our camp atAulis," answered Agamemnon.

  "Shall I stay here with thee until then?"

  "Nay, thou must go back to Mycenae without delay."

  "But may I not come again? If I am not here, who will hold up thetorch for the bride?"

  "I will attend to all such matters," answered Agamemnon.

  But Clytemnestra was not well pleased, neither could the king persuadeher at all that she should return to Mycenae. While yet they weretalking, Achilles himself came to the tent door, and said aloud to theservant who kept it, "Tell thy master that Achilles, the son of Peleus,would be pleased to see him."

  When Clytemnestra overheard these words, she hastened to the door, andoffered the hero her hand. But he was abashed and drew back, for itwas deemed an unseemly thing for men to speak thus with women. ThenClytemnestra said, "Why, indeed, should you, who are about to marry mydaughter, be ashamed to give me your hand?"

  Achilles was struck with wonder, and asked her what she meant; and whenshe had explained the matter, he said:

  "Truly I have never been a suitor for thy daughter, neither hasAgamemnon or Menelaus spoken a word to me regarding her."

  And now the queen was astonished in her turn, and cried out with shamethat she had been so cruelly deceived. Then the keeper of the door,who was the same that had been sent with the letter, came forward andtold the truth regarding the whole matter. And Clytemnestra cried toAchilles, "O son of silver-footed Thetis! Help me and help my daughterIphigenia, in this time of sorest need! For we have no friend in allthis host, and none in whom we can confide but thee."

  Achilles answered, "Long time ago I was a pupil of old Cheiron, themost righteous of men, and from him I learned to be honest and true.If Agamemnon rule according to right, then I will obey him; but nototherwise. And now, since thy daughter was brought to this place underpretence of giving her to me as my bride, I will see that she shall notbe slain, neither shall any one dare take her from me."

  On the following day, while Agamemnon sat grief-stricken in his tent,the maiden came before him carrying the child Orestes in her arms; andshe cast herself upon her knees at his feet, and caressing his hands,she thus besought him:

  "Would, dear father, that I had the voice of Orpheus, to whom even therocks did listen! then I would persuade thee. O father! I am thychild. I was the first to call thee 'Father,' and the first to whomthou saidst 'My child.'"

  The father turned his face away, and wept; he could not speak forsadness. Then the maiden went on: "O father, hear me! thou to whom myvoice was once so sweet that thou wouldst waken me to hear my prattle.And when I was older grown, then thou wouldst say to me, 'Some day, mybirdling, thou shalt have a nest of thy own, a home of which thou shaltbe the mistress.' And I did answer, 'Yes, dear father, and when thouart old I will care for thee, and pay thee with all my heart for thekindness thou dost show me.' But now thou hast forgotten it all, andart ready to slay my young life."

  A deep groan burst from the lips of the mighty king, but he spoke not aword. Then, after a deathlike silence broken only by the deepbreathings of father and child, Iphigenia spoke again: "My father, canthere be any prayer more pure and more persuasive than that of a maidenfor her father's welfare? And when, the cruel knife shall strike medown, thou wilt have one daughter less to pray for thee." A shuddershook the frame of Agamemnon, but he answered not a word.

  At that moment Achilles entered. He had come in haste from the tentsbeside the shore, and he spoke in hurried, anxious accents.

  "Behold," said he, "a great tumult has arisen in the camp; for Calchashas given out among the men that you refuse to do what Artemis hasbidden, and that hence these delays and troubles have arisen. And therude soldiers are crying out against you, and declaring that the maidenmust die. When I would have stayed their anger, they took up stones tostone me--my own warriors among the rest. And now they are makingready to move upon your tent, threatening to sacrifice you also withyour daughter. But I will fight for you to the utmost, and the maidenshall not die."

  As he was speaking, Calchas entered, and, grasping the wrist of thepleading maiden, lifted her to her feet. She looked up, and saw hisstony face and hard cold eyes; and turning again to Agamemnon, shesaid, "O father, the ships shall sail, for I will die for thee."

  Then Achilles said to her, "Fair maiden, thou art by far the noblestand most lovely of thy sex. Fain would I save thee from this fate,even though every man in Greece be against me. Fly with me quickly tomy long-oared ship, and I will carry thee safely away from thisaccursed place."

  "Not so," answered Iphigenia: "I will give up my life for my father andthis land of the Greeks, and no man shall suffer for me."

  Then the pitiless priest led her through the throng of rude soldiers tothe grove of Artemis, wherein an altar had been built. But Achillesand Agamemnon covered their faces with their mantles, and stayed insidethe tent.

  As the maiden took her place upon the altar, the king's herald stoodup, and bade the warriors keep silence; and Calchas put a garland ofsweet-smelling flowers about the victim's head.

  "Let no man touch me," said the maiden, "for I offer my neck to thesword with right good will, that so my father may live and prosper."

  In silence and great awe, the warriors stood around, while Calchas drewa sharp knife from its scabbard. But, lo! as he struck, the maiden wasnot there; and in her stead, a noble deer lay dying on the altar. Thenthe old soothsayer cried out in triumphant tones, "See, now, ye men ofGreece, how the gods have provided for you a sacrifice, and saved theinnocent daughter of the king!" And all the people shouted with joy;and in that self-same hour, a strong breeze came down the bay, andfilled the idle sails of the waiting ships.

  "To Troy! to Troy!" cried the Greeks; and every man hastened aboard hisvessel.

  How it was that fair Iphigenia escaped the knife; by whom she wassaved, or whither she went--no one knew. Some say that Artemis carriedher away to the land of the Taurians, where she had a temple and analtar; and there is a story that, long years afterward, her brotherOrestes found her there, and led her back to her girlhood's home, evento Mycenae. But whether this be true or not, I know that there havebeen maidens as noble, as loving, as innocent as she, who have given uptheir lives in order to make this world a purer and happier place inwhich to live; and these are not dead, but live in the gratefulmemories of those whom they loved and saved.