Iphigeneia

Euripides

Translated by

George Theodoridis

Contents

About this ebook

Iphigeneia in Aulis

Iphigeneia in Tauris

Copyright notice

Colophon

About this ebook

Euripides was born in Athens about 480 BC, and lived there until moving to Macedon late in life where he died in 406 BC. He is said to have been a schoolfellow of Socrates, and was the third of the great Athenian tragedians.

Aristophanes ridiculed him, and he won few prizes at drama festivals (perhaps because he questioned religious beliefs) but he was revered by Roman and Renaissance writers.

This ebook contains two of his plays about the Trojan War. Iphigeneia in Aulis tells how she is sacrificed in Aulis by Agamemnon, her father, so that the gods will grant the Greeks a fair wind for Troy, and how she is taken up by the Gods. Iphigenia in Tauris tells how she is made a captive priestess of Artemis in Tauris, and escapes with Orestes, her brother, to Athens having stolen a sacred statue of Artemis.

The source text was a modern English prose translation of the plays, with stage directions, by George Theodoridis of Melbourne University. He retains the copyright, and has given me permission to use his text. He has used original Greek names rather than their more familiar Latinised versions.

Iphigeneia in Aulis

Written in 410 B.C.

First produced circa 405 B.C.

Translated by

George Theodoridis

© 2007

https://bacchicstage.wordpress.com/

Dramatis Personae

AGAMEMNON: King of Argos

OLD MAN: Servant to Agamemnon

MENELAOS: Agamemnon’s brother, King of Sparta

KLYTAIMESTRA: Agamemnon’s wife

IPHIGENEIA: Daughter of Agamemnon and Klytaimestra

ACHILLES: Chief of the Myrmidons, an army

FIRST MESSENGER

SECOND MESSENGER

FIRST CHORUS: Of women from Chalkis

SECOND CHORUS: Men and women of Argos, attendants to Klytaimestra and Iphigeneia

THE BABY ORESTES: Son of Agamemnon and Klytaimestra. Silent

GUARDS: Silent

VARIOUS OTHER ATTENDANTS: Silent

[At the camp of the Greek army.

We are in front of Agamemnon’s lavish tent which has two entrances, one of which is the larger and used only by Agamemnon and his family. His servants use the other. In front of the tent is a small table at which sits Agamemnon. There is a small oil lamp on the table as well as various writing implements.

He is writing a letter, an exercise which, it seems, is excruciatingly difficult for him. He writes a few words, then scratches them out and begins again. At one point he is satisfied with what he’s written, seals it with his ring but then, a moment later, he scratches away the seal and re-reads the letter. Later, he becomes so angry that he picks up the wooden frame upon which the scroll rests and throws it violently to the ground. His head falls heavily into his hands and he begins sobbing.

Finally, he picks up the scroll, gets up and moves away from the table. He walks slowly about the stage, anxiously searching the starry sky.

Dawn is about to break. The sun should rise slowly until full daylight is reached just before Agamemnon goes back into his tent, and the First Chorus appears]

AGAMEMNON:

[Shouts towards the tent]

Hey, old man!

[No answer. Louder]

Old man, come out here! Out here, in front of the tent!

OLD MAN:

[From within the tent]

I’m coming, my lord… I’m coming! What’s in your mind, this time, my lord Agamemnon?

AGAMEMNON:

[Pause. Old man is being too slow for Agamemnon]

Come on, hurry up!

OLD MAN:

[From within]

I am hurrying, my lord, I’m hurrying!

[Enter the old man from Agamemnon’s tent]

OLD MAN:

Ah, old age! It has burdened me with lack of sleep and with overactive eyes, my lord!

AGAMEMNON:

[Pointing at the sky]

Come, look up there! Tell me, what star would that be, that one, gliding across the sky… up there?

OLD MAN:

That? That’s Sirius, my lord. It’s going past those seven stars, the Pleiades, my lord… straight through the very centre of the heavens.

AGAMEMNON:

[Nods, then looks around him. Pensively, anxiously]

Not a sound to be heard anywhere, old man!

Not from any birds, not from the sea and not from any of the winds that rule over the waters between us and Epirus… Total silence!

OLD MAN:

So, my lord, why on earth are you wandering about out here, then? The whole city of Aulis is quiet and the guard on the walls has yet to change. Come, my lord, let’s go back inside!

AGAMEMNON:

I envy you, old man! I envy the man with the quiet life, the safe life. I envy the man who knows no fame; and I don’t envy the man whose life is heavy with the trappings of office.

OLD MAN:

But, surely, my lord, surely it is there, in the trappings of office and power, that we find pleasure!

AGAMEMNON:

Pleasure! Pleasure, my old friend, is a dubious thing, an unstable thing; and as for all the trappings of office, all the power that goes with it, sure they might look sweet from the distance but once you get them, they become unbearable pains! There are times when the gods shun you, reject you, thwart your every effort and there are times, too, when the whining and the moaning of your men crush you!

OLD MAN:

I… I don’t approve of words like these coming out of the mouths of leaders.

Your father, my lord, Atreas, didn’t bring you into this world so that you may taste only its pleasures, my lord. No, he gave you life so that you may understand pain, as well as pleasure.

You, too, my lord are a mortal and, whether you like it or not, this is how the gods want it: mortals must taste the good along with the bad. But I see a letter in your hand, my lord. I saw you trying to write it by the light of that lamp there. You write down some words, then you scratch them out and write other words in their place. Then you seal the letter. Then you scratch away the seal and then you throw its pine frame onto the ground and then you begin to cry profusely!

This is the behaviour of a man in the grips of despair, my lord and it leaves no doubt in the mind of anyone who sees you, my lord, that you… that you’ve gone mad, my lord!

What has brought on all this anxiety? Come, tell me, share your story with me. You will be doing so to a man who’s loyal and faithful to you. Your old father-in-law, Tyndareus, gave me to your wife, Klytaimestra, as part of her dowry, to be her loyal servant.

AGAMEMNON:

My old friend, Thestius’ daughter, Leda, had three daughters: Phoebe, Klytaimestra (my wife) and Helen. This last one, Helen, had received the most famous, the greatest sons of the whole of Hellas as her suitors… ferocious threats of murder were uttered by those who had missed out on her. Tyndareus, her father was in a dreadful dilemma: should he allow her daughter to marry or not? What would be the best action for him to take?

Finally, my old friend, he came upon the answer.

The suitors should all swear a solemn oath, by giving their right hand and by making sacred sacrifices, that each and every one of them would defend the man who won Helen’s hand in marriage, no matter who that would be and to come to his aid in case someone stole her from their home and thus deprived that man of his legal conjugal bed. And, they should also swear that they would attack and destroy the land of the wrongdoer by the force of arms, whether his land is Greek or foreign.

Once the wise old Tyndareus had convinced them all to take these oaths, he allowed his daughter to choose the suitor she liked and Helen allowed herself to be guided by the sweet, lusty sighs of Aphrodite in her heart.

Well, Helen, unfortunately, old man, chose Menelaos!

After that, Paris, the man who, according to the legend, judged the three goddesses, Hera, Aphrodite and Athena, for their beauty, arrived at Sparta.

He came all the way from Troy, dressed in all his colourful garb, and, typical of the barbarians’ love for splendour, his whole body was sparkling with gold jewels!

Helen fell in love with him and he fell in love with Helen. The opportunity was made for him to elope with her, since Menelaos was absent at the time. Paris took it and carried her off back to his own home, in Ida, a place where the cows graze in luxurious pastures.

Well, old man, Menelaos was outraged by this! In his frenzy, he rushed about the whole of Greece, calling upon everyone to remember Tyndareus’ solemn oath and to help him, since he was the wronged husband.

And that’s why the whole of Greece rose up in arms with great fervour. They picked up their spears, strapped on their armour, and rushed over here, in Aulis, with ships, troops, and a huge number of horses and chariots.

I, being Menelaos’ brother and for his own good, was chosen by them to be their leader… How I wish this honour were given to someone else, my old friend!

So, we have all gathered here and here we are still, tied down by the weather! After a while, Calchas, our prophet, came up to us and suggested – much to our dismay – that we should sacrifice my own daughter, Iphigeneia, to the goddess Artemis, whose shrine is in these parts!

He announced that if we did make that offering to the goddess, we would be able to sail away and we would succeed in sacking the Phrygian capital, Troy; otherwise we would fail.

This got me so angry that the very next moment I ordered Talthybius to use his powerful voice and call the army to disband. I was not going to slaughter my own daughter, old man! That I could never do! But my brother, using all sorts of arguments, finally persuaded me to commit this dreadful deed! I… wrote a letter to my wife, Klytaimestra.

I told her to bring our daughter here so that she may marry Achilles. It was a lie. In it I spoke of Achilles’ high rank, his bravery, his honour… and told her that the man refused to sail with us unless one of our daughters became his wife and went to live at his house, in Phthia. And it was with this lie, about the girl’s mock-marriage, that I tried to persuade my wife to bring her here. The only other Greeks who know about this are Calchas, Odysseus and Menelaos.

Well, old man, I’ve reconsidered all those dreadful decisions I’ve made back then and wrote another letter in which I am correcting them. This is the letter which you saw me writing in the dark, opening it and shutting it, labouring over it.

Here, take it now and carry it over to Argos. Now, I’ll tell you everything I’ve written in this folded scroll because you are a true and loyal servant to my house and to my wife.

OLD MAN:

Yes, tell me so that what I say to your wife agrees with what you’ve written in there.

AGAMEMNON:

The words I have written here, old man, are these:

“Leda’s daughter, Klytaimestra, I’m sending you a second letter to replace the first. Do not send our daughter here, in Aulis, the place whose harbours are well protected from the harsh seas and which juts out towards Colchis. We shall make the wedding celebrations another time.”

OLD MAN:

But how will Achilles take this? Will he not get furious with you and with your wife if you deprive him of his bride? This is very dangerous indeed, my lord! Please tell me what to say to your wife.

AGAMEMNON:

Achilles is acting in name only and not in deed. He knows nothing of my scheme, nothing of the marriage and nothing of my supposed wish to give my daughter to him, to have him take her into his arms and into his marital bed.

OLD MAN:

You have dared to do a most frightening thing, my lord, Agamemnon! You have declared the girl to be the bride of a goddess’ son, yet you bring her here to be a sacrificial offering for the benefit of the Greeks!

AGAMEMNON:

I was out of my wits, old man! Out of my senses!

But go! Go, now! Run! Forget your old age and run!

OLD MAN:

Yes, my King! I shall run!

AGAMEMNON:

And don’t waste any time hanging about some watering hole in the woods… and don’t fall victim to the magic of sleep!

OLD MAN:

How can you say such a thing, my lord?

AGAMEMNON:

And… when you come across some fork in the road, check it carefully. See that there are no wheel marks on the road. They might be from the wagon that is bringing the girl here, to the Greek ships.

OLD MAN:

I’ll do that, my lord.

AGAMEMNON:

And… if she has already left the safety of her home and if you chance to meet her retinue on the road, send them back again… take the reins from their hands and hasten the horses towards the shrines of the Cyclopes.

OLD MAN:

And, my lord, if I say all these things you’ve just told me, will your daughter and your wife believe me?

AGAMEMNON:

Make sure you don’t break the seal of the scroll!

Now go! Look! Dawn’s light is already being taken over by the fire of the Sun’s brilliant chariot! Go! Accomplish your tasks, old man!

[Exit Old Man]

No man is blessed or happy for ever. No one was ever born to a life free of misery.

[Exit Agamemnon into his tent]

[Pause. Daylight]

[Enter First Chorus of women]

FIRST CHORUS:

We have left behind our land, Chalkis, a land washed by the salty waters of glorious Arethusa and we’ve travelled through the narrow straights of Euripus to come here, to Aulis, to this sandy peninsula.

We have come to watch the army of the divine Greeks and their thousand ships.

Our husbands told us they are all gathered here, under the helm of Agamemnon and his fair haired brother, Menelaos, noblemen both, preparing to launch an expedition against Troy.

They’re off to bring back Helen, Menelaos’ wife, whom Paris, the Trojan cowherd, abducted from her home in Sparta, a city built by the reed-covered banks of the river, Eurotas.

Helen was given as a gift to Paris, by Aphrodite, one day when, near the cool springs, she won the beauty contest from her rivals, Hera and Pallas Athena.

I sped through Artemis’ woods, a place rich with sacrifices, my youthful shyness blushing my cheeks, anxious to see the army’s might, the tents of the Greeks and their countless horses.

And there I saw the two Ajaxes sitting together: Oeleus’ son and the son of Telemon, the crown of Salamis and Protisilaos and Palamides, whose father is Poseidon’s son. They were sitting together on stools, joyfully immersed in a game of draughts, a game full of complex moves.

Diomedes, too, was there amusing himself, throwing a discus. Next to him was Myriones, son of Ares, a marvel to all men and Odysseus, Laertes’ son, who came from the hills of his island, Ithaca. Next to him was Nireas, first among the Greeks in beauty.

And fast-footed Achilles, too, whose feet fly faster than the wind. He is the son of the goddess Thetis, and his tutor was Chiron, the most honourable of all the centaurs.

We saw him, racing in full armour upon the shells of the shore, in a contest against a chariot pulled by a team of four horses, a contest out of which he came victorious. Eumelus, Pheres’ grandson was the driver of the chariot who, with a goad in his hand, he urged on and shouted at his beautiful steeds whose reins were a work of wondrous design, wrought in lustrous gold.

The two horses in the centre, those that took the weight of the yoke, were dappled with spots of white; the two on the outside carried the traces and they had to negotiate the turns on the track. Those two had hair the colour of fire and were spotted from below the ankles of their great hooves. There, alongside of them, ran Achilles, Peleas’ son, in his full armour. He kept pace with the rail and with the wheels of the chariot.

I came to take a look at the great number of ships, a sight most pleasant and most able to satisfy my girlish eyes. What a sweet joy!

The right wing of this naval force was taken up by the fifty swift ships of the war-loving Myrmidons from Phthia. At the tip of their sterns stood the golden statues of Nereids, the emblem of Achilles’ army.

Moored next to them was an equal number of Argive ships, headed by two chiefs, Euryalus, the son of Mecisteus, who was raised by his grandfather, Talaus and Sthenelus, Capaneus’ son. Next to these were the Athenian ships – sixty of them, and these were captained by Theseus’ son.

Their emblem was the goddess, Pallas Athena, standing on a chariot pulled by winged horses, an emblem that pleased and encouraged the sailors.

I also saw the Boetian fleet, fifty in number, led by Leitus, a mortal, born of the Earth. These ships, too, were adorned with emblems at their high sterns, this time of Cadmus, holding a golden serpent in his hands.

Ships from Phocis and Locris were also there in similar numbers and their captain was Oileus whose city is the famous Thronium.

Atreas’ son, Menelaos, brought with him from Mycenae, the city built by the Cyclopes, one hundred ships and all the sailors to man them. With him also was his close friend, Adrastus, their commander, ready to exact vengeance for Hellas’ sake, against the woman who fled her husband’s halls so as to marry a barbarian.

And I saw Gerenian Nestor who came from Pylos. On the stern of his ships was an emblem portraying the river Alpheus, his neighbour, who, on that emblem was given four feet and made to look like a bull.

The Aenians brought twelve ships, captained by their king, Gouneus; and beside them were moored the lords of Elis whom everyone called Epeians.

Their captain was Eurytus.

The fleet of the war-loving Taphians, with its foaming oars, was commanded by their king, Phyleus’ son, Meges who had left the Echinae, islands that are far too unwelcoming for sailors.

The left flank of the Greek armada ended with the twelve trim and fast ships, led by Ajax whose birthplace is Salamis.

This is the naval force I saw with my own eyes and about which I had heard earlier.

If any barbarian dared to bring his ships against these he’d never see his home again.

So this is the armada I saw here and about which I had heard back home earlier.

[Enter Menelaos and the Old Man. Menelaos is carrying a staff and has nearly finished reading Agamemnon’s letter which he has torn from the Old Man’s hands. The Old Man is angry and tries to take the letter back from him]

OLD MAN:

Menelaos! Oh, this is a terrible thing you’re doing! How dare you!

[Menelaos ignores him]

No, you shouldn’t do that! Don’t…

MENELAOS:

Leave! Go away old man! You’re overdoing your loyalty to your master!

OLD MAN:

Your very reprimand shows the extent of my virtue!

MENELAOS:

Act according to your position, or you’ll be very sorry, old man!

OLD MAN:

You should not have opened this letter!

MENELAOS:

And you should not be bringing so much trouble to the Greeks!

OLD MAN:

[Tries to take the letter from Menelaos]

Argue with others about that. Now let go of my letter!

MENELAOS:

No, I will not!

OLD MAN:

Nor will I!

MENELAOS:

If you don’t let go of it I shall crack your skull open with this staff!

OLD MAN:

Dying for my master will be a glorious thing.

MENELAOS:

Let go!

[He gains control of the scroll]

For a slave you have just too much to say!

OLD MAN:

[Shouts into Agamemnon’s tent]

Agamemnon! Master! Come out! We’ve been robbed! My lord!

[Enter Agamemnon from his tent]

This man has forcefully and unjustly ripped your letter from my hands, my lord!

AGAMEMNON:

What? What is all this loud brawling in front of my tent?

MENELAOS:

Listen to me, Agamemnon! I have a greater right to speak than he does!

AGAMEMNON:

Menelaos! Why are you arguing with this man? Why all this violence?

MENELAOS:

First, look at me in the eye and then I’ll tell you!

AGAMEMNON:

Look at you? Why? Do you think that I, son of Atreas the fearless, will be afraid to raise my eyes and look at you in the eye?

MENELAOS:

See this? See this letter, this… contemptible letter with the contemptible message inside it?

AGAMEMNON:

Yes, I see it and, before you start you’d better hand it back to me!

MENELAOS:

No! Not before I tell all the Greeks what it says!

AGAMEMNON:

So you broke its seal and read its contents? These are things you should know nothing about!

MENELAOS:

Yes, you may well suffer now because I did break your seal and yes, I do know the secret trickery you were concocting!

AGAMEMNON:

By the gods! Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? Where did you catch him?

MENELAOS:

I was waiting to see if your daughter would leave Argos to come to the army camp.

AGAMEMNON:

What? Who gave you the right to spy upon my affairs? What a disgraceful behaviour!

MENELAOS:

Who gave me the right? My curiosity. Do you think I’m some slave of yours?

AGAMEMNON:

This is scandalous! Am I not allowed to manage the affairs of my own home, in my own way, now?

MENELAOS:

No, you’re not! Because the workings of your mind always have been, are now and always will be, deceitful.

AGAMEMNON:

An eloquent covering of a shameful act! Eloquence, brother, begets hatred!

MENELAOS:

Yes, but an unstable mind is an evil thing, something which befuddles the minds of one’s friends.

Let me tell you of your faults, Agamemnon! And I’ll list them all, if you don’t start getting angry or begin to deny them. Believe me, I won’t be exaggerating.

You know very well how humble you were during the days you wanted to be the leader of the Trojan expedition. Well, you pretended you didn’t want the job but you did.

During those days you shook the hand of everyone you came across and, whether they wanted it or not, your doors were always wide open and ready to receive everyone. You’d greet anyone and everyone, hoping with this behaviour to gain their approval and thus become their leader. Then, the moment you became one, all this nice behaviour changed and you had turned your back on all your friends. You locked yourself up indoors and became totally unapproachable to everyone.

A good man, my brother, must not change his manner just because his life is going well. It is, in fact, at that time when his friends should be able to rely on him because it is at that time, the time when things are going well with him, that he can help them the most.

Now, that was the first of my complaints against your character.

Then, you arrived here, in Aulis, with the whole of the Greek army and immediately you lost every virtue you had. You became a nobody. The gods deserted you and they wouldn’t give you a favourable wind for our sails. You were totally bewildered by the change of your luck! And so, the Greeks ordered you to let them board their ships and go back home and to stop wasting their efforts here.

Well! The looks your face took up at that suggestion! The thought that you would no longer lead our thousand ships against Priam, that you would no longer conquer his city with our soldiers – all that filled you with utter distress and dismay!

“What shall I do now?” you asked me. “Tell me what plan I should adopt! Who can help me here?” You were terrified of losing face and authority!

Calchas gave you the answer and you jumped with joy when he told you that the Greeks would be able to sail for Troy only after you had sacrificed your daughter to Artemis. You were only too glad to take up that offer! Too glad to commit the girl to the goddess.

Then, without anyone forcing you, totally of your accord – and don’t claim it wasn’t – you had sent a letter to your wife to bring Iphigeneia here, in the pretence that she’d be marrying Achilles.

[Indicating the sky]

Look up there! This is the very same sky that heard your words then and the words you chose to write afterwards, reversing your message to your wife, telling her this time, in words to the effect that “I’ll no longer be my daughter’s murderer!”

Isn’t it so? Of course it is!

You, Agamemnon, are doing what countless others have also done in public life: While they’re in power they put up enormous efforts to keep it but then, when the public makes a stupid decision – sometimes understandably so because the leader is too weak to lead the State – these public figures fall all in a heap and they disgrace themselves!

My own heart aches more for poor Hellas than for you because Hellas was about to achieve something great against the barbarians when you and your daughter stopped her; and now these insignificant barbarians will be allowed to go free! Free to mock her!

The true leader of a city and of an army is not merely brave but intelligent. Intelligence, brother, can turn any man into a head of State.

FIRST CHORUS:

What an awful thing it is for brothers whose views differ to come to insults!

AGAMEMNON:

And now it’s my turn to criticise you but, no, I won’t do so in some arrogant, contemptuous way, with my eyes looking down on you but I shall do so in a conciliatory, brotherly way.

A sensible man usually speaks to others with respect.

So, tell me, my brother: What is all this violent fury? What’s with this flushed face of yours? Who’s done you wrong and what is it that you want? Is it a good wife you’re after? Don’t look at me for that, I can’t give you one! You already had one and you couldn’t control her. It’s not my fault she left you for another man, so why should I pay for your mistakes? You talk about my ambition. No, it’s not my ambition that’s bothering you, my brother! Rather, it’s the fact that you need a good woman… one to fill your arms with – and, in order to get her, you’ve lost your wits and your manners!

These are wicked pleasures for a wicked man!

And then am I mad if I had changed my mind about something which I later realised I was wrong? No, it’s not me who’s gone mad, brother but you. You’re the one, after all, who, even though the gods have helped you rid yourself of a bad wife, there you are, still intent on getting her back!

Dying for a marriage about which her lunatic suitors swore Tyndareus’ oaths.

Give thanks to the goddess Hope! Be thankful to her because it is she who was looking after you and brought about all this for you, because, the truth is, neither you nor all of your power had anything to do with it.

So now, go on, take them all, take all these lunatics, all these soldiers and lead them on to the expedition. They’d love to go precisely because they are mad.

The gods are no fools and they know when oaths are falsely pledged or forced upon people.

And, no, I will not murder my children and certainly won’t do it so that you can wrongfully enjoy some sort of vengeance exacted from a disgraceful wife, while I waste away in tears day and night because I had committed such a godless crime against them, against my own flesh and blood.

My words were brief, blunt and clear. If you’re wise you’ll heed them; if not then, have no fear, I know how to settle my own affairs well.

FIRST CHORUS:

Different words now but better. It’s good that the children will be spared.

MENELAOS:

Gods! Have I no friends then?

AGAMEMNON:

Of course you do – so long as you don’t try to ruin them!

MENELAOS:

How else, then, can you, Agamemnon, prove that we are brothers? How can you prove that you and I have the same father?

AGAMEMNON:

We are brothers when we are doing what is reasonable, not when we do what is madness.

MENELAOS:

Brothers must share each other’s pain.

AGAMEMNON:

Call on me when you want me to do something reasonable, not when you want to ruin me.

MENELAOS:

And what about Greece? Do you not want to fight for her?

AGAMEMNON:

I would, but some god has made both you and Greece insane!

MENELAOS:

Enjoy the glory of your sceptre then! You have betrayed your own brother! I shall look elsewhere for friends and help…

[Enter Messenger excited with joy]

MESSENGER:

Agamemnon, leader of all the Greeks! I have brought with me your daughter, Iphigeneia and her mother – your wife – Klytaimestra, as well as your young son, Orestes. They should bring you great joy after such a long absence from your home.

But, alas, the road was long, my lord and so the women are now having a rest by the refreshing waters of a spring. We also let the horses loose to drink and to graze at a meadow nearby. I’ve rushed here before them so that you can be ready to receive them. The news spread quickly and so the whole army already knows that your daughter has arrived. They’ve all rushed over there to see her. The whole world loves to talk about the famous and to see them in their flesh.

The soldiers talk and they ask questions. “What’s going on?” some of them ask. And others, “is there going to be a wedding?” Yet others again, “did the king call his daughter here because he’s missed her?” Then there were others who said, “the girl will be presented to the goddess Artemis, protector of Aulis, before the wedding. I wonder who her groom is.”

Come, then, Lord Agamemnon, make a start on the celebrations. Gather the baskets for the sacrifices, place wreaths on your head. You, too, Menelaos, get everything ready for this joyous occasion and let’s hear the flutes sing and the dancers pound the earth with their feet. This is a happy day for Iphigeneia!

AGAMEMNON:

Thank you, friend. Now go inside, my good man and everything will happen according to the will of Fate.

[Exit Messenger into Agamemnon’s tent]

Horrible Fate, what a dreadful yoke you’ve locked me into!

Where shall I begin? What can I possibly say now? Your wit is truly far greater than mine. Ah, but the common folk have it easy. They cry when they wish and speak their mind freely, something which a leader cannot do: it’s undignified, it’s an insult to the splendour of his position and his whole life is controlled by it.

Leaders are but slaves to the common folk.

Here, then, I have suffered the greatest misfortune yet I am ashamed to cry just as I am also ashamed to hold back my tears.

What shall I say to my wife, then? With what face shall I receive hers? Her unexpected arrival has added to my ruin. New troubles are now added upon those I’m already suffering. Yet it is right that she should come with her sweet daughter to give her away as a bride…

Ah! And that’s when she’ll discover my treachery!

Poor, sweet young girl!

But why “girl?” Why do I not call her a “woman?” Will she not be made Hades’ bride soon?

Oh, my girl! How I pity you! How I cry for you!

She will be begging me, my sweet young girl!

“Daddy, do you want to kill me? Well, then, may you and your friends also enjoy a marriage such as mine!” She will say to me!

My baby boy, Orestes, will also be there and he, too, will cry. His baby sounds will make no sense but they’ll be full of meaning.

Paris! You are the cause of it! You, Paris, you son of Priam! What ruin, what catastrophe you’ve brought upon me by running off with Helen!

FIRST CHORUS:

I, too, feel pity for you – if it is at all proper for a foreigner to feel pity for the plight of kings.

MENELAOS:

Brother, give me your right arm!

[Agamemnon does so]

AGAMEMNON:

Here, Menelaos. You win, I cry.

MENELAOS:

I swear, Agamemnon, by our father, Atreas and by our grandfather Pelops that I will tell you the truth plainly and clearly, just as I feel it in my heart and as I know it in my mind.

Tears of pity came into my eyes just now, when I saw your own tears roll from yours. I’ve changed my mind, brother. I no longer want to be your enemy.

I’ll now stand by you and so I advise you not to kill your daughter or put my own interests before yours. It is unjust that you should be mourning while I’m living a life full of joy. It is unjust that your children should die while mine still enjoy the sunlight. After all, what is it exactly that I want? Is it marriage? Surely I could find another wife elsewhere! Gods forbid that I should choose to lose a brother to win a Helen! Should I exchange the good for bad?

I acted like a stupid child before but now I thought more deeply about what it’s really like to kill your own children.

And then I also realised that we’re brothers and my heart went out for the poor girl who would be sacrificed for the sake of my own marriage.

What does your Iphigeneia have to do with my Helen?

Come, disband the army and leave Aulis my brother and stop your tears and mine! If the oracle has given me some say into your daughter’s fate then I pass that say over to you. I’ll have none of it!

I’ve changed, you’ll say! Gone are the harsh words, suddenly!

That’s true, I’ve changed and I’ve changed because I love you, brother. I’ve changed because of my love for my mother’s son. It’s a natural thing for men with decent hearts to do the decent thing.

FIRST CHORUS:

Honourable words, Menelaos!

Words worthy of Tantalus, Zeus’ son.

Words that will not shame your ancestors.

AGAMEMNON:

I praise you, Menelaos for these unexpected words, proper words, words truly worthy of you. Brothers fight because of lust and because of greed in their inheritance.

I hate such relationships; they bring bitter pain to all. But, my brother, we can do nothing now but go on with the bloody murder of my darling daughter.

MENELAOS:

Why is that? Who on earth could force you to murder your own child?

AGAMEMNON:

The entire Greek army, Menelaos! All of them, here in Aulis.

MENELAOS:

No, they can do nothing if you secretly send her back to Argos.

AGAMEMNON:

Sure, that I can certainly do secretly but there’s something else, brother; something I cannot hide…

MENELAOS:

And what would that be? Don’t be so afraid of the masses!

AGAMEMNON:

Calchas will reveal his oracles to the men.

MENELAOS:

Not if he dies first. That will be very easy to accomplish.

AGAMEMNON:

Curse Calchas and his whole horde of glory-loving prophets!

MENELAOS:

Useless when you need them and a curse when you don’t.

AGAMEMNON:

A thought just occurred to me, a thought which might frighten you, Menelaos!

MENELAOS:

Tell it and I’ll see.

AGAMEMNON:

Sisyphus’ son, Odysseus, knows our whole story.

MENELAOS:

Odysseus will give us no trouble.

AGAMEMNON:

Odysseus has a shifty mind and he’s a rabble-rouser.

MENELAOS:

True. He, too, loves glory. A dreadful sickness!

AGAMEMNON:

Can you not see him standing in the midst of all the Greeks, telling them all about Calchas’ prophesies and all about how I’ve promised to sacrifice my daughter to Artemis but then went back on my word?

He’ll have the whole army eating out of his hand and then make them kill us and sacrifice the girl anyway! And if I tried to run off to Argos, the whole lot of them will come over and destroy the place, raze the whole city to the ground, Cyclopean walls and all!

That’s what I’m afraid of! See what troubles the gods have thrown at me, the poor wretch?

Be careful of one thing, Menelaos. Be careful when you’re walking among the men not to let Klytaimestra find out anything about the sacrifice; at least not until after I’ve sent my daughter to Hades. This way, I hope, my pain will be lessened a little.

[Turning to the chorus]

And you, foreign ladies, say nothing about this.

[Exit Agamemnon and Menelaos]

FIRST CHORUS:

Joy will come to those who share their marriage bed with the calm of Aphrodite’s love and not with the frenzy of Eros’ stinging arrows!

This god, this god with the golden hair, lifts his bow and shoots two arrows of passion, one to bring us life’s greatest joy, the other to send us into a whirlwind of confusion.

Oh, Lady, goddess of love, Aphrodite!

Make sure this golden hair god stays far away from my bed chamber! I want my love for others to be moderate and my desires to be pure. I ask only for a modest share of Aphrodite’s love; let it be not excessive!

Mortals vary in body as well as in mind but true virtue, which comes from a good upbringing and a good education, always stands out.

It is wise to be modest because modesty gives you the rare gift of circumspection, the ability to judge what is right, what is your duty; an ability that will give you respect and will remain with you for ever.

And it is a great thing to follow the footprints of virtue like a hunter follows the footprints of his prey.

Women protect it well by avoiding immoderate love and men by bringing civil order in their city, thus making it great.

There you were, Paris: a man brought up to be a cowherd, looking after the grazing, white cows of Ida with their heavy udders, playing Asian tunes in your reedy pipes, airs much like those Trojan songs from Mount Olympus when, suddenly, you had to judge between three goddesses; and it was this judging that has sent you to Helen’s ivory palace in Hellas.

Once there, a maddened gaze of love from each of you had sent you both into Eros’ confusion and sent Greece to Troy with strife-searching ships and spears.

[Happy noises of incoming royal procession, including horses and chariot are heard within, Stage Left]

[Enter Second Chorus of men and women, Attendants of Klytaimestra]

SECOND CHORUS:

[Indicating behind the curtains, Stage Left]

Great is the joy of the great!

Look there: our Lord’s daughter, Iphigeneia, our princess; and there, his wife and Tyndareus’ daughter, our Lady, Klytaimestra!

They are the offspring of a great and most fortunate family.

To the lowly and weak mortals, the fortunate always appear like gods.

FIRST CHORUS:

Come, children of Chalkis, let us go and give the Argive Queen our gentle and firm hand to help her step down safely from her carriage and let us look welcoming towards Agamemnon’s glorious daughter lest she be afraid of having arrived here at this place and at this time; and let us also make sure that the Argive women feel no distress or concern for being strangers in a strange place.

[Exit Stage Left]

KLYTAIMESTRA:

[Within]

I take your kind welcome and gracious words as signs of a good omen. I have brought this bride here with strong hopes for a wonderful marriage.

Come, folks come and take down from the carriage the wedding gifts I’ve brought and carefully carry them into the tent.

Come, darling Iphigeneia, come down from the carriage now. Step gently down, onto the earth. Women, help her. Give her your arms and bring her down safely.

And help me, too. Please lend me your arms, so that I may get down from the seat of this carriage modestly.

Some of you stand by at the front of the horses to quieten them.

Horses can panic if there’s no one to soothe them.

[Enter from Stage Left Klytaimestra and Iphigeneia, accompanied by an entourage of men and women, some of whom are carrying gifts into Agamemnon’s tent]

[A nanny is holding the baby Orestes in her arms]

Here, friends, take this baby to his father, Agamemnon. It’s young Orestes, a baby still.

[Looking over the baby]

Are you still sleeping, my baby? Has the carriage lulled you to sleep? Ah, yes! Soon you’ll wake up a happy young man, my son. Happy to be at your sister’s wedding. I can see you there now: a nobleman becoming a brother-in-law to a nobleman, to the divine Achilles, the son of Thetis the Nereid.

[Turning to Iphigeneia]

Come, my darling daughter, come, Iphigeneia, come and stand near me. Let our friends here see how happy you make me.

[As Iphigeneia approaches her, Agamemnon enters]

Ah, here’s your father, go to him, darling!

IPHIGENEIA:

Yes, mother, please let me run to him before you do. Please don’t be offended now! Let me hug him tightly against my breast before you do!

[Iphigeneia rushes and embraces Agamemnon]

KLYTAIMESTRA:

My dear Lord, Agamemnon! Here we are, eagerly obedient to your wish!

IPHIGENEIA:

Father! Give me a big hug! It’s been such a long time! I’ve missed you so much. Please don’t get angry with me…

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Yes, quite right, too! Of all of my children, you, Iphigeneia, have always loved your father the most!

IPHIGENEIA:

How wonderful it is to see you again, daddy!

AGAMEMNON:

[Awkwardly]

And I’m very pleased to see you, too! I’ve also missed you!

You speak for both of us, darling.

IPHIGENEIA:

Oh, I’m so happy you’ve brought me here to see you.

AGAMEMNON:

Are you, darling? I… I’m not so sure.

IPHIGENEIA:

What’s wrong, daddy? You say you’re happy to see me but your face looks worried!

AGAMEMNON:

A king, darling, a General is always worried.

IPHIGENEIA:

Make your worries go away, daddy. From now on, think only of me.

AGAMEMNON:

Yes, my darling. I shall think of nothing else but you from now on.

IPHIGENEIA:

Well then, get rid of this ugly frown from the face that I love so much!

AGAMEMNON:

There! Oh, what a joy it is to see you, Iphigeneia!

IPHIGENEIA:

But… but look at you, father! Full of joy and yet tears flow from your eyes…

AGAMEMNON:

Yes, dear… because our separation will be a long one.

IPHIGENEIA:

Separation? I don’t understand, father. Whatever do you mean? Why – where do they say the Phrygians live, father?

AGAMEMNON:

Where, darling? They live at a place, darling, where I wish Paris, Priam’s son, never lived!

IPHIGENEIA:

You’re going off on a long journey daddy and you’re leaving me behind!

AGAMEMNON:

My thoughts exactly, my darling. For such a young girl you are so intelligent!

I feel so sad…

IPHIGENEIA:

Then I shall be stupid and make you laugh!

AGAMEMNON:

[He laughs]

Thank you, my sweet daughter!

[Sadly, softly so that she won’t hear him]

How could I ever speak the truth now?

IPHIGENEIA:

Don’t leave home, daddy. Stay here with us, with all your children!

AGAMEMNON:

I wish I could, my child! If only I could!

This makes me so sad!

IPHIGENEIA:

Damn all these spears of Menelaos! All these troubles he has caused!

AGAMEMNON:

Damn them, indeed… as I am damned, Iphigeneia, I and many others!

IPHIGENEIA:

You’ve been so long here in the harbours of Aulis!

AGAMEMNON:

And still something is holding back the expedition.

IPHIGENEIA:

If only it were possible to take me with you, father.

AGAMEMNON:

You, too, Iphigeneia, you also have a journey to make.

You’ll go to a place where you’ll forget about your father.

IPHIGENEIA:

Will I go on my own or with mother?

AGAMEMNON:

Alone, darling. No mother, no father.

IPHIGENEIA:

Are you sending me to live with another family, daddy?

AGAMEMNON:

Little girls should not be bothered with such things. Enough!

IPHIGENEIA:

You’ll come right back after you’re done with Troy, won’t you?

AGAMEMNON:

Yes but first I must make a sacrifice here, in Aulis.

IPHIGENEIA:

Of course. We must do what we must do, to please the gods.

AGAMEMNON:

You’ll be able to see the sacrifice. You’ll be standing right there at the altar.

IPHIGENEIA:

Shall we set up choruses around it, daddy?

AGAMEMNON:

You are much happier than me for knowing less than I do.

Come, go into my tent now. It’s not proper for young girls to be in the public eye for too long.

[Iphigeneia begins towards the tent but is stopped by her father]

Hold on! First, come, give your father a kiss. Give me your hand, my dear child.

You will be away from me for a very long time.

[He embraces and then steps back to look at her sadly]

Oh, your poor cheeks, your poor beautiful, golden hair, your youthful breasts! What an awful burden Helen and Troy have become for us!

Ah! I can talk no more. The more I hold you in my arms the more the tears rush to my eyes. Go! Go inside now!

[Iphigeneia obeys]

And you, dear wife, daughter of Leda, I ask forgiveness from you, too, for all my tears. Tears that come about from making our daughter a bride to Achilles.

Weddings are blessed things but still very tough on the hearts of the bride’s parents.

It is a bitter thing for a father to take, a father who has worked hard but who must send his daughters away – away to another household.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

I am not so insensitive, Agamemnon.

I, too feel the same pain so I won’t be angry with you. I shall be accompanying our girl with the wedding song.

Have no fear, the pain will soften with custom and with the passage of time.

Husband, I know the prospective groom’s name but I know little about his family or his country.

AGAMEMNON:

Asopus, the river god, had a daughter, Aegina…

KLYTAIMESTRA:

…who was married to whom? A god or a mortal?

AGAMEMNON:

Zeus. He married her and they had a son, Aeacus who became King of the island Oenone.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Who then was the heir to the House of Aeacus?

AGAMEMNON:

The heir was Peleas. He married Thetis, Nereus’ daughter.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

With Zeus’ will or against it? With blessings or with force?

AGAMEMNON:

Zeus himself gave her to him. He was her lord.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

And were they married in the sea?

AGAMEMNON:

No, the wedding was held in the sacred valleys of Pelion, where Chiron lives.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

That’s where they say the centaurs live.

AGAMEMNON:

Yes. That’s where all the gods held the wedding feast.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

So, who raised the young Achilles, Thetis or his father?

AGAMEMNON:

Neither. Chiron, the centaur did, so that the child might be brought up not knowing the behaviour of evil men.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Ah! Chiron, the wise teacher, was entrusted by a wiser parent!

AGAMEMNON:

Yes, so you see what sort of a man your future son-in-law is!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Sounds ideal to me. Where in Greece does he live?

AGAMEMNON:

He lives in Phthia, by the river Apidanus.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

And is that where he’ll take our daughter?

AGAMEMNON:

That will be his decision. She’ll be his wife.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

May they be happy there! When is the wedding?

AGAMEMNON:

It will take place at the most propitious time: When the moon completes its cycle again.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Have you made the pre-natal offerings to the goddess yet?

AGAMEMNON:

Very soon. We’re working on it right now.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

What about the wedding feast after the ceremony?

AGAMEMNON:

It will take place after I make the sacrifice.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

And the feast for us women? Where are we going to set it up?

AGAMEMNON:

Here, at the harbour, near our beautiful Greek ships.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

[Displeased]

The girl deserves better… still, may the gods be with us!

AGAMEMNON:

[Suddenly angry]

Wife, do as I say! Listen to me!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

… What’s wrong? I always have!

AGAMEMNON:

[Looking around him]

And I shall… here where the groom is, I shall…

KLYTAIMESTRA:

You? What, you’ll be performing a mother’s duties now?

AGAMEMNON:

… I, with all the Greeks as witnesses shall give Iphigeneia away…

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Really? And where will I be at the time?

AGAMEMNON:

You? You’ll be back in Argos, taking care of our other daughters.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

And leave my darling behind? But… who’ll carry the bridal torch?

AGAMEMNON:

I’ll carry the bridal torch.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

That’s not what the laws of the custom say. You shouldn’t go against them!

AGAMEMNON:

And you shouldn’t be hanging around here, among all the soldiers!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

What I should be doing – as a mother – is to be the one who gives Iphigeneia, my daughter, away to her groom. It is what a mother must do!

AGAMEMNON:

What you must do is not leave your other daughters alone, back at the house.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Our other daughters are looked after well and they are safe in their quarters.

AGAMEMNON:

Listen to me!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Never!

By the goddess Hera, protector of Argos and of marriage, I shall not do so!

No, you look after everything outside the household and I shall take care of things within it!

Our daughter’s marriage is my concern!

[Klytaimestra turns away angrily and enters the tent]

AGAMEMNON:

I have failed miserably! I have tried desperately to send Klytaimestra away from here but I’ve failed. I’ve tried all manner of subtle tricks to get my closest friends to agree with me and there, too, I’ve failed.

Failed utterly at every turn…

I shall go to the priest. Calchas will find out for me what it is the goddess will be satisfied with… though, I know, it will be something which will bring me misery and a great deal of hard suffering for the rest of Greece…

Ah, Menelaos! A wise man must keep in his house a good and faithful woman, or else he should never marry!

[Exit Agamemnon. Only the two choruses are now present. They fuse into one]

CHORUS:

And so the Greek ships will sail. Stuffed full with men and spears. They will reach the silvery eddies of the Simois river that runs through Apollo’s stronghold, the rocky plains of Troy.

They tell me that Cassandra, Apollo’s priestess is there. Cassandra who shakes loose her golden hair beneath the green garland of laurel whenever the god grips her with his prophetic gasp.

There, upon the city’s towers and round about its high walls, the Trojan folk will stand when the warriors with their bronze shields bring their ships closer, over the river’s waters, after their long journey over the ocean.

There they will arrive with their war-whetted spears and shields to wrest Helen from Priam’s city and bring her back to Greece. Helen, the sister of the Heaven-dwelling twins, the Dioscuri.

And they will surround the city Pergamum, all about its stone towers with murderous war-men who’ll smash the heads of the Trojans, cut through their necks and tear their city down to its foundations.

And the weeping and wailing of Priam’s daughters and of his wife will be bitter and piercing. And Helen, Zeus’ daughter, will shed bitter tears, too, for betraying her husband.

Oh, I hope I’ll never see the day, nor should my children nor my grandchildren, should see the day when I suffer the torture that the golden Lydian women will suffer, the wives of those Trojan men, who will be suffering when, years later, working at their looms they’d be talking of this!

Do you hear them, Helen? Listen! Listen to their words:

“Who will it be, I wonder, who will bring tears to my eyes, drag me by my beautiful hair and pluck me from my ruined land?”

Do you hear them, Helen? That’s what they’ll be saying; and all this because of you, Helen! Yes, you, daughter of the long-necked swan!

That is, if what they say about you being Leda’s daughter is true.

They say that Zeus had transformed himself into a bird and then slept with your mother. Is this true or is it yet another one of these tales conjured up by the poets and then spread idly about the world through the ages?

[Enter Achilles, angry]

ACHILLES:

[to the chorus]

Where is the leader of the Greek army? I know he’s around here somewhere. One of his servants go and tell him that Achilles, Peleas’ son is here, waiting for him, at the entrance of his tent!

[A member of the chorus rushes into the tent]

Are we not all wasting our time here, by the banks of Epirus? All of us? Married and single alike? The single men have left their houses empty and uncared for and the married ones have left their wives and children behind. They’re all just sitting idly around by the shore. What a lusty fervour the whole of Greece has stirred up for this expedition! Aided and abetted by the gods! The whole thing is a game played by the heavens!

Let me tell you why I am angry. Other men may have different views but let me give you my own. I have left Pharsalia and Peleas, my father, to come here. I have my army, the famous Myrmidons, wasting their time hanging about the quiet waters of Epirus, getting angrier and more impatient by the minute. Anger and impatience which I must control.

They yell at me!

“Achilles,” they say. “Why are we wasting our time around here? How much more time do we need to waste on this expedition to Troy? Be a leader! If you really want to do something against Troy then do it, or else just take us all back home. Stop waiting for those indecisive sons of Atreas to tell you what to do…”

[He is interrupted by Klytaimestra’s entrance]

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Achilles, son of the Nereid! I just heard your voice from inside and came out to greet you.

ACHILLES:

By the goddess Modesty! Who is this exquisite looking woman I see here?

KLYTAIMESTRA:

I’m not surprised you don’t recognise me. We’ve never met before. I’m very pleased that you, too, honour the goddess Modesty, Achilles!

ACHILLES:

But who are you, madam? And how is it that you, a woman, are here, where the whole army of the Greek men and their shields is gathered?

KLYTAIMESTRA:

I am Klytaimestra, Leda’s daughter and Agamemnon’s wife.

ACHILLES:

A brief but adequate answer!

Still, it’s not proper for me to be talking with a woman.

[Begins to walk away]

KLYTAIMESTRA:

[She stretches her right hand]

Achilles, stay! Why are you leaving? Come, give me your right hand and let’s make this the beginning of a blessed marriage!

ACHILLES:

What do you mean, madam? Give you my right hand? It would be shameful if Agamemnon saw me touching what’s not rightfully mine!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

But it is rightfully yours, Achilles! Son of the Nereid, you are marrying my daughter…

ACHILLES:

What? What marriage are you talking about, madam? I… I am shocked, my lady! Words escape me!

[Directing his question to the chorus]

Are these amazing words the words of a delirious woman?

KLYTAIMESTRA:

[Chuckles]

Ha, ha, ha! It’s a common thing for a man to be shy when he meets his relatives for the first time and they’re talking about marriage!

ACHILLES:

My lady, I have never proposed to your daughter… Atreas’ sons have never talked to me about a marriage!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

But… Achilles, think again! You find my words strange but I find yours equally odd!

ACHILLES:

This is preposterous!

Let’s think through this together, my lady. Perhaps we’re both being deceived.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Could this be right?

What a disaster! What a dreadful shame!

It seems I’m eagerly preparing for an imaginary wedding! What a terrible shame!

ACHILLES:

Ah! Someone must be playing games with both of us for some reason! Forget it, madam! Think nothing of it!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

[She turns from him]

Leave now, Achilles. Leave! Good bye. I feel too humiliated to face you after the lies I’ve uttered, after the dreadful way I’ve been treated!

ACHILLES:

Me, too! I also feel ashamed… I…

[turns towards the tent]

I am going to go and speak with your husband…

[The Old Man fearfully pokes his head through the flaps of the tent. He is barely visible]

OLD MAN:

Psssst! Achilles! Stay! You, grandchild of Aeacus… you, too Leda’s daughter, stay!

ACHILLES:

Who’s that? Who’s calling through that half-opened door? He sounds frightened.

OLD MAN:

A slave. Fate gave me nothing to be proud of.

ACHILLES:

Slave to whom? Not mine, that’s for sure. Agamemnon and I have separate properties.

OLD MAN:

That woman’s there. I was given as a gift by her father, Tyndareus.

ACHILLES:

[Turns back]

All right, you’ve stopped me… I’m waiting. Tell me what it is you want, now.

OLD MAN:

[anxiously looking all around him]

Are you two alone out there?

ACHILLES:

Yes. Rest assured, we are alone. Now come out of Agamemnon’s tent.

[The Old Man exits the tent]

OLD MAN:

Dear Fortune, help my brain to save those I love.

ACHILLES:

Weighty words, old man! They’re bound to serve someone well, sometime.

[Old Man anxiously takes Klytaimestra’s hand and kisses it]

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Come, come, old man! Don’t waste time kissing my hand. Tell us what’s wrong!

OLD MAN:

My lady, you know who I am and just how loyal I’ve been to you and your children.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

I know well that you are an old servant of my house.

OLD MAN:

And you know, too that I was part of your dowry when you married King Agamemnon.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Yes. You had come with me to Argos and stayed with me as my servant.

OLD MAN:

Yes, my lady and so, I am more loyal to you than I am to your husband.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Well? Tell me what is this secret that’s worrying you so much.

OLD MAN:

[Apprehensive]

My lady… your daughter… her father… he is about to kill her!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

What? What did you say? No! This surely is nothing more than drivel spat out of the mouth of a mad old man!

OLD MAN:

No, madam! With his own sword, madam… he will make bloody the young girl’s white neck… bloody it with her own blood!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Ahhh! What shocking news of disaster is this? Has my husband gone insane?

OLD MAN:

In all other things, no, my lady. He’s gone mad only so far as your daughter and you are concerned.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

But why? What demon has taken possession of his mind?

OLD MAN:

The priest, my lady. Calchas. He said that it must be done if the expedition is ever to make it to…

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Expedition? Where is the army going? Oh! Poor, poor child! Poor, poor girl!

She’s about to be slaughtered by the hand of her own father!

OLD MAN:

The army is heading to Troy, my lady. To Dardanos’ house, in Troy, to bring back Menelaos’ wife, Helen.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

So, my sweet darling must face this horrible fate because of the need to bring Helen back?

OLD MAN:

Yes, my lady. Now you know the whole thing. Agamemnon, her father will sacrifice her to the goddess Artemis.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

But what about the marriage? What was the point of bringing us up here for a marriage that…

OLD MAN:

He tricked you about the marriage with Achilles, my lady, so that you’d be willing to come here.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

O, my darling daughter! You’ve come to your death – you and me also!

OLD MAN:

Both of you have pitiable fates, my lady! Agamemnon dares to commit a most dreadful deed!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

[In tears]

Oh! What destruction! What horror! I… cannot stop crying!

OLD MAN:

Yes, dear lady! Cry! It is a horrible thing for one to lose a child!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

But… tell me, good servant, where did you hear all this?

OLD MAN:

He had sent me off to bring you a letter, madam… about the first message…

KLYTAIMESTRA:

What was the second message? To stop me from coming here or to urge me to do so?

OLD MAN:

To stop you… By then he had come back to his senses.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

But why didn’t you deliver that message to me, if it was in your hand?

OLD MAN:

Because Menelaos took it away from me, my lady. He, madam, he’s the cause of all your torment, madam.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Achilles, do you hear this?

ACHILLES:

I do, my lady and I can see it’s a horrible thing for you to endure. And I also hear what they’ve done to me!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

They’ve tricked my daughter to her death by promising her to you in marriage.

ACHILLES:

Yes, madam and I too, am furious at your husband. This is something I won’t tolerate.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

[Falls down and clasps Achilles’ knees]

Oh, Achilles! I clasp your knees without shame!

You’re the son of a god and I am a mere mortal! I’m not too proud to do so. There is nothing that I would not do for my darling Iphigeneia.

Come, son of a goddess! Protect us in our terrible misfortune. Help my girl. She was falsely called your future wife. I had put a wedding wreath on her head and brought her here to be your wife. But, no, instead of that, I have brought her to her slaughter!

They will speak badly of you if you do not help her.

They will say that even though you weren’t wedded to her, you were still the poor virgin’s promised husband. You were still the man she loved.

I’m on my knees, begging you, Achilles!

[She runs her hand over his chin, over his right hand]

By your chin, Achilles, by your right hand and by your mother, stand by us! Help us!

It was your name, Achilles that has brought us to this misfortune, so protect it now. Protect your name. I have no one else to turn to, no other friend, no other altar to pray upon. Only your knees.

You know the dread that Agamemnon has brought upon us. You can see it!

It’s an unbearable, harsh dread. And you can see how I, a woman, have come here to the camp of soldiers, tough men, brave and ready for war and violence.

[She places his right hand over her head]

Come, son of the goddess, lend us a hand, help us, or else we are doomed!

CHORUS:

Awesome is the power of giving birth! It makes the mother love her child most deeply and she will defend it with her life.

ACHILLES:

I know, I have a bloated pride, madam but I can assure you, I feel the pain of misfortune and the joy of success with a wise temper, a moderate temper; because I also know that those with a moderate temper lead a wiser life.

It’s true, my lady that there are times when it is more pleasant to avoid excessive wisdom and there are times when wisdom is helpful but I, madam, I was raised in the house of Chiron, a centaur who respected the simple ways, the honest ways.

If the sons of Atreas practice honesty then I shall obey them but if they don’t, rest assured, madam that I’ll defy them.

I am here, madam, as I will be in Troy also, to defend – with my shield and with my spear – my honour as a man and to do my best to glorify the god of war, Ares.

You have been wronged, madam. Most treacherously wronged by your closest friends. Let my pity be a protective blanket over you; it is the pity of a young man but it is a sincere pity, nevertheless and one brought about by the fact that I have been the one named as your daughter’s husband. Believe me, madam: Agamemnon will not slaughter her! I will never permit your husband to perform such treacherous deeds!

It is my name that he will be using as his sword to slaughter Iphigeneia and this awful man will disgrace my body if I let your daughter, who was about to marry me and who has suffered this insufferable fate die because of me.

To let this man succeed in this deed, to let him use my name as his bloody sword, would be to make me the worst of all the Greeks – a worthless man, one more cowardly than Menelaos, as if I were not the son of Peleas but that of some evil demon. By my grandfather, my mother’s father, Nereus, who was nurtured by the ocean waves!

Agamemnon shall never lay a finger on your daughter – not even to touch her robes! Or else, we might as well call Mount Sipylus, the Asian city where his barbarous ancestors came from a “great city” and wipe out of our mind the name of Phthia!

When our esteemed prophet, Calchas, conducts his next sacrifice, when he will mingle his barley and his holy water upon the altar, he will pay bitterly for it!

A prophet? Ha! What is a prophet? A teller of truth one time and a teller of lies one thousand times… if he’s lucky! And then, if his prophesies are found to be false, he vanishes!

[Turning to the chorus]

I’m not talking like this because I’m missing out on this wedding. No, there are hundreds of women who want my wedding bed! I’m angry because King Agamemnon has insulted me so gravely. He has used my name without my permission! He has used it to lure and snare his daughter and to convince Klytaimestra to bring her here, to me, to be presented as my wife!

In fact, had he asked me for my permission to use my name for this, I would have given it. I would have given it if the Greeks couldn’t get to Troy without my doing so.

I would have given it to serve the greater good of our soldiers. I would have given it for the sake of my fellow soldiers. But now? Now that Agamemnon has insulted me, dishonoured me so badly, I feel like a… like a nobody.

It seems that the generals do as they please with me. Whether they treat me well or appallingly makes no difference to them.

[He turns back to Klytaimestra]

Madam, let this sword of mine bear witness to what I’m about to say!

This sword will have blood on it even before I leave for Troy! The barbarian blood of the sons of Atreas, of your husband, madam and that of his brother, if either of them snatches your daughter from my hands!

So, calm yourself now, Klytaimestra. I know, I’m behaving as if I were some god towards you though I’m a mere mortal.

CHORUS:

Your words are worthy of you, Achilles and of your mother who is a splendid goddess.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Dear Achilles! How could I possibly express my gratitude to you in a modest way? I want neither to overwhelm you by its excess nor insult you by its timidity. Those worthy of praise find it a hateful thing when they are praised too profusely.

I am too ashamed to tell you this pitiful story of mine. I know too well that this awful plight is mine and mine alone – you have nothing to do with it…

But I will talk: the strong ought to help the weak where they can, even if they have little to do with their plight. Help us, Achilles! Help us because our plight needs your help.

When I first thought you were going to be my son-in-law, I had high hopes – vain hopes as it turned out but hopes nevertheless. Help us for that reason and help us, too, because if my daughter is killed on the altar that would be a bad omen for your future marital prospects, an omen you should try and avoid.

You began and ended your speech with fine sentiments.

My daughter’s life hangs on your will. She will be saved if you will it. Would you like her to plead at your knees? Because, even though it would be improper for a little girl to plead at a man’s knees, she will put aside her sense of modesty and do it, if you wish.

But let me try and persuade you and let her stay inside the tent. Let her keep her dignity intact. Those with dignity are respected, those without are shamed, though defending one’s dignity is not always possible.

ACHILLES:

No, my lady, don’t call your daughter out to see me. Let’s not have the common tongues wag against us.

Soldiers who have been gathered together, away from the chores of their homes and are idle have malice and gossip ready at their tongue.

No, it will not be necessary. Pleas or no pleas the result will be the same with me because I have only one thing in mind, now: to save you both from this disaster! And this, my lady, this is no lie, believe me! If I’m lying to you, madam, then let death come upon me. I shall save your daughter!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

May joy be with you for ever, Achilles. May it be with you always, for helping the unfortunate!

ACHILLES:

Then listen to me carefully, madam so that we’ll achieve our aim.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

What would you like me to do? I’ll obey your every command.

ACHILLES:

First, let us try and bring her father back to his senses.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

He’s an evil man, my husband. A coward. He is afraid of his own soldiers.

ACHILLES:

Words, logic, can fight off fear.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

A cold hope, that one, Achilles. But tell me what I must do.

ACHILLES:

First, plead with him. Tell him not to kill his daughter. If you cannot persuade him then come back to me. If your pleas work and they save the girl’s life, then my intervention will not be necessary.

That way, not only will I not lose a friend but the army will also not be angry with me when it sees that I’ve used my brains rather than my brawn.

If this works out well, then the result will be good for you and your family without my getting mixed up in the affair.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Good idea. I shall do as you say.

Still, if I fail? Where will I find you? Where shall I go to find your hand, to ask you to help me in my hour of despair?

ACHILLES:

I’ll be watching out for you. Checking out the situation carefully. What you mustn’t do is run around wildly about the camp among the soldiers. Be careful not to disgrace your ancestors’ house.

The name of Tyndareus stands high among the Greeks and one shouldn’t demean it.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

No, I won’t. I shall obey your directions. If the gods are just, then they should reward just men like you. Otherwise why should we bother being just?

[Exit Achilles. Klytaimestra goes into the tent]

CHORUS:

What a delightful wedding song was sung while the Lybian flute played on the day that Thetis and Peleas married!

How the dance-loving lyre and the enchanting notes of the reedy flute brought the fair haired Muses up from their home, the Pierian Springs, to the top of Mount Pelios!

With what joy the Muses pounded the earth with their gold-sandaled feet as they climbed the mountain side to get to the wedding!

Joyous notes were sung to the glory of Peleas, son of Aeacus and Thetis, there, upon Mount Pelion, the woody realm of the Centaurs.

And there it was that Dardanos poured the heavenly nectar into the deep golden cups of the gods.

He is the Trojan Ganymede, the loving delight of Zeus’ bed!

And there, along the white sands below, Nereus’ fifty daughters whirled and weaved their dance circles and made splendid the wedding of the Nereid.

And to the feast of the gods and to Bacchus’ wine-mixing bowl came, too, with spears of fir and with wreaths of green leaves, the troupe of horse-mounted centaurs.

And their call to the Nereid was loud and clear:

“Chiron,” they cried out, “Chiron who knows well the meaning of Apollo’s words, foretells that you’ll give Thessaly a son, a boy who’ll be its brightest light. He’ll be the man who’ll take his army of spear-loving Myrmidons and turn Priam’s city into rubble.

“A man whose body will be clothed in golden armour, fashioned by Hephaistos himself and given as a gift to him by his divine mother.”

And so, the blessed couple were wed by the gods: The nobly born oldest daughter of Nereas and Peleas.

[Iphigeneia’s scream of grief is suddenly heard from within the tent. The Chorus turns in the direction of the scream and responds!]

CHORUS:

Ah! But as for you, daughter of Agamemnon!

Even though you were not raised among the sounds of the shepherd’s flute, even though you were raised, instead, by your mother’s side, raised to be adorned one day as a bride to one of Iachus’ descendants, you, my young girl, will be dragged down like a spotted deer, or like a young heifer is dragged down from some rocky mountain’s cave, dragged down there to the goddess’ altar.

CHORUS:

Then the Greeks shall tie a garland around your fair hair and stain your human throat with your own blood.

Where has the strength of your face gone? Where has the strength of the face of Modesty or of Virtue gone?

Alas! Now the strength rests with Irreverence and Virtue is now scorned by the mortals.

Gods’ laws are ruled by lawlessness and mortals don’t unite to stand against the wrath of Heaven.

[Enter Klytaimestra. She looks around the stage anxiously for a minute]

KLYTAIMESTRA:

I’ve come out here looking for my husband. He’s gone out a while ago and Iphigeneia, in the meantime, has heard how her father is planning to kill her.

She is in there, crying and falling from one abyss of misery into another.

[Suddenly she sees Agamemnon approaching]

Ah, there he is! He’s coming this way now. We will soon reveal Agamemnon’s sacrilegious schemes against his very own children!

[Enter Agamemnon]

AGAMEMNON:

Thank goodness you’re out here, Leda’s daughter. I need to tell you things that our daughter should not hear. Things that should best be kept away from a bride’s ear.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

What is it? What is it that I need to hear alone, out here?

AGAMEMNON:

Look, the sacrificial ceremony is ready. The lustral water, the barley, everything is ready for the holy flame. The young heifers that will be sacrificed and that will deliver their abundant dark blood to the goddess Artemis are ready.

Now call her out here so she can follow me to the altar.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

These are lovely words, Agamemnon… but what of your deeds? What should I call them? What should I call your deeds to make them also sound lovely?

[Turns towards the tent]

Iphigeneia! Come out here, darling!

You already know your father’s intentions, poor love. Come out here and bring your little brother, Orestes with you. Cover the baby with one of your cloaks.

[Enter Iphigeneia holding the baby in her arms. It’s covered with a cloak. Iphigeneia is crying]

Obedient child. Here she is but I’ll do the talking for both of us.

[Agamemnon approaches Iphigeneia and tries to console her]

AGAMEMNON:

My child, why are you crying? Lift your head up for me, darling, smile for me.

No, don’t bury your face inside your cloak!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Oh, Gods! How should I start? What pain should I mention first – or second, or last?

Every one of them is just as unbearable!

AGAMEMNON:

What’s wrong with you two?

You’re both in such a state of distress and confusion!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Answer me honestly, my husband!

AGAMEMNON:

No need to tell me to answer you honestly. Ask me, what is it?

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Is it your wish to kill our child?

AGAMEMNON:

[loud outrage]

What? What a dreadful thing to say! What a dreadful thought to have in your mind!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Stop your shouting. Just answer my question!

AGAMEMNON:

Then make it a reasonable one!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

My question is nothing but reasonable. Now make your answer reasonable also!

AGAMEMNON:

Holy Fate and Fortune! Holy Spirit of mine!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Yes! Your Fate and mine – and hers, too! A black Fate for all three of us!

AGAMEMNON:

You? Why, what have they done to you?

KLYTAIMESTRA:

You have the impudence to ask me that? You ask me what they’ve done to me? Ah, but this impudence of yours will miss its mark!

AGAMEMNON:

[He covers his face with his hands in shame, and groans]

Ah! I’m lost! Someone has exposed my plans!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Yes!

I know everything! I know about your plans. I know what you want to do to me… Go on! You groan but you say nothing. That in itself is your admission…

Don’t bother making a long speech about it, husband! There is no need!

AGAMEMNON:

Yes, I shall say nothing in my defence. How could I? I’d only be speaking lies and I’d be adding disgrace to my miserable Fate!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Listen then and listen to me well! I shall speak clearly for you. No fancy, confusing words for you. The plain truth.

Hear my first attack on you: You’ve married me by brutal force and by murder.

You’ve murdered Tantalus, my first husband and with even more brutal violence, you’ve torn my baby from my breast and dashed it hard against the ground!

So angry were my twin brothers, the Dioscuri, that they came charging down from Zeus’ side on their glistening horses to fight you but you went begging to my old father, Tyndareus and he, not only saved you but made me your wife!

I accepted my fortune and you’ll admit that I have always been a good wife to you. Faithful, devoted, temperate in nuptial duties, a good keeper of your house.

I was a very good house keeper for you. You felt a great deal of joy when you came in that house, and when you went out of it you felt a wealthy man.

Such good wives are rare, Agamemnon! As for the other sort, the bad ones, they are everywhere!

Look there! I bore you this son… a son and three daughters and now you tear one of them from my hands so violently! You’re drowning me in misery.

Tell me, Agamemnon. Tell me what will you say to someone who asks you why you’ve killed your daughter? Tell me the reason you will give… no let me speak on your behalf, because I know what you will say. You will say that you’ve killed our daughter so that Menelaos, your brother, can get back his Helen!

What a wonderful excuse! What a price to pay for the sake of saving a slut! Your own baby! You will kill the one who’s loved by all so as to save the one who’s hated by all!

Tell me Agamemnon! After you have gone… gone away on your expedition and you have left me here, alone in the house – and alone for a long time, our darling daughter’s chair empty… her bedroom empty – what sort of heart do you think will be beating in my breast?

I would be there, alone, Agamemnon, wailing, crying bitter tears, yelling, “Darling Iphigeneia! Your own father has slaughtered you with his own hand! He alone did it, he, alone, with his very own hand! He and no one else!”

What sort of a welcome do you think you’ll receive on you return? What do you think I and the rest of your family will feel towards you?

We – your children and I – will give you the return that an evil man deserves. By the gods, Agamemnon! Don’t force me to become evil! Don’t become an evil man!

[Despondently]

I see. So you will sacrifice your daughter!

Well then, tell me: what will your prayer, your plea to the gods be? What will you ask the gods to grant you as your knife cuts through your daughter’s throat? A safe return? No! Should you not be expecting a poisonous welcome since you’re departing like a snake? And, do I not also have the right to make my own prayer to the gods about you? Don’t suppose for one minute that I’ll be asking them to treat you well. We would be treating gods as fools if we thought that they would act kindly towards murderers.

And tell me another thing, Agamemnon, when you return home, when you come back to Argos, will you have the gall to put your arms around any of your children? What a shocking thing that would be! Which one will it be? Which of your children will dare even look at you? Which one will not wonder if it will be the next one you take to the slaughter?

Have you thought of any of this, or do you just go wandering about the army camp proudly waving about the sceptre of a General? Is being a General the only thing in your head? Think about your daughter for once, Agamemnon and make a fair proposal to your army: Ask them all if they really want to go to Troy and if they do, well then, let them draw lots that will include their own children also! Let them all see which one should be sacrificed. Why should you be the only one to offer our child as a victim to the altar?

Or else let Menelaos kill Hermione, his own daughter. All this is his own doing. His wife’s doing, so, let him kill his wife’s daughter. Why should I, a faithful wife, endure the misery of having my daughter killed while she, a slut, gets to rejoice by having her daughter kept safely at home, in Sparta?

If I’m right, do the sensible thing and don’t kill our darling.

[Iphigeneia hands baby Orestes to her mother]

IPHIGENEIA:

If only I could sing like Orpheus, father!

Orpheus, who could charm even the heartless rocks into following him!

If I could use such a voice and have everyone charmed, have them all convinced to agree with me and to follow me, then I would use that voice.

But I have no such skill. The only voice I have, father, my only skill is in my tears and, here, father, I am giving them to you! I am giving you my tears!

I am giving you all I have!

[She leans before him and embraces his knees]

Here, father, here is the body of a suppliant! Here is the body that your wife has given birth to. I wrap its limbs around your knees and beg you: Please father, do not cut short my life. Let me enjoy the sweet light of day and do not force me to enter the world beneath the earth.

I am your first one, father!

The first one to call you father, the first one you called daughter. Me, father! I was the first to play on your knees, the first one of your children to enjoy your love and the first one to give you a child’s love.

Remember, father? You use to ask me, “I wonder, my darling, will I get to see you married one day, married and settled happily in your husband’s home, your life ever blossoming, making me proud of you?” And I’d touch your chin, my father, hang from your beard, father, like I am doing now and say, “and what about you, father, will I get to see you, father, an old man, visiting me at my house, ready for me to repay you for your hard work in raising me?”

No, you don’t remember these words, father. I do but you don’t! You have forgotten them and so, now, you want to kill me.

Please, father! Please, in the name of Pelops and of Atreas, who is your father, I beg you!

Please don’t do this!

And I beg you also for my mother’s sake, the woman who laboured to bring me to life, the woman who is being tortured even now. I beg you, father!

What does my life have to do with the marriage of Paris and Helen father? Why has their marriage brought about my death, father?

[Agamemnon turns away]

[She continues despondently]

Come, then, father, turn to me and give me a final kiss. A kiss to remember you by in the underworld since my words have not convinced you.

[Agamemnon does not move]

[She goes over to her mother and takes baby Orestes into her arms. She swings him, sadly, gently back and forth and leans over him as she speaks to him]

What a weak little helper you are, my tiny brother! Won’t you cry with me, Orestes?

Come on, won’t you beg your father not to kill your big sister? Come on, Orestes, even babies know when there’s trouble around!

Ha! See, father? Orestes is begging you, too! Begging you by his silence.

Do you not care about me any more, father? Spare my young life, father. Spare me! Here! Look here, father! Here are the two of us, one’s a baby, the other a grown up girl, a brother and a sister, both your children, begging you, by your beard, pleading with you…

[She turns and looks sadly around her, then up at the sun]

That! Up there is my final argument.

That light, this light all around us, will cut all other arguments to pieces. This light is the sweetest thing that can fill the eyes!

The world beneath the earth is a world of nothing. Only fools would pray to go down there. I’d rather live a life full of misery than die a hero’s death!

CHORUS:

[Shouts angrily]

Helen!

All this is your doing, Helen!

You, evil Helen! You are the cause of this miserable conflict between the sons of Atreas and their children!

AGAMEMNON:

I know well about pity – I know well who deserves it and who does not and I – I love my children!

No, I have not lost my senses.

This is a dreadful thing for me to do but it is just as dreadful not to do it.

Whether I do it or I don’t, the consequences for me will be the same.

You both know the size of the army gathered here. You saw the endless ships. The whole place glitters with the bronze armour of the warriors. The whole of Greece is gathered here and they all want one thing: to go to the famous city of Troy and tear down her towers.

[Turns towards Iphigeneia, pleading]

But they can’t, my darling daughter. Not unless I obey the priest’s demand, not unless I sacrifice you.

Some madness has overtaken their hearts and they want to sail immediately over to Troy – to the land of those barbarians and to put an end to this raping and stealing of our women, to tearing them away from their marital beds.

[To Klytaimestra]

It is a madness I cannot control. If I try to stop them they will kill us all. They will sail over to our home, to Argos and kill our children and the two of us as well!

[Back to Iphigeneia]

I cannot defy the goddess’ demands, my darling.

It’s not Menelaos who’s in control here, Iphigeneia. I don’t have to do anything he says and I didn’t.

The one in control here is Hellas. The whole of Greece.

It is for Hellas that I am forced to sacrifice you. Whether I want to do so or not, I must obey Hellas. I am forced to do it! It is Hellas I must obey, darling, not Menelaos. Both of us, darling! Both you and I, whether we want to or not, must help Hellas stand free – Hellas’ men cannot have their wives stolen from their beds.

[Agamemnon turns and exits]

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Ah, my darling!

Oh, dear ladies!

Oh, my sweet daughter! How can I endure your death?

Your father has gone, my darling and abandoned you to Hades!

[She takes the baby Orestes from Iphigeneia’s hands]

IPHIGENEIA:

The same song, mother, the same words tell both our fates, dear mother and I… I’ve lost the day’s sweet light, the sweet light of the sun’s rays!

It was upon the forests of Trojan Ida, its woods covered thickly by the shroud of snow where King Priam once abandoned his child boy, Paris. The King feared the prophet’s words that the boy would grow up to destroy him – him and his city and so he tore the baby away from its mother’s arms and cast him on the mountainside, hoping that he would die.

That child was Paris. Everyone called him “Idean” because of the Trojan city Idean. How I wish this herdsman, this boy who was brought up to care for cows, had never lived! How I wish he never lived near the gurgling white waters of those springs, the springs where nymphs gathered. How I wish he never lived at that meadow where all the flowers bloomed: roses and hyacinths, all those flowers that the goddesses plucked.

It was there, at that meadow that Pallas Athena and Aphrodite, whose heart was full of cunning, came with Hera and Hermes, Zeus’ messenger.

One goddess, Aphrodite, was proud of her insatiable love.

Another, Pallas, was proud of her war spear and the third, Hera, proud of the fact that she shared her bed with Lord Zeus. She was the Queen of the gods.

It was there, at that meadow, that these three women came before Paris to put an end to their dire contest about which of them was the most beautiful. Dire to me because it brought about my death.

[Speaking to the chorus]

Dear women of Argos, this death, my death, this sacrifice to Artemis, will speed the Greeks to Troy and bring honour to the Greeks.

[Back to her mother]

Mummy!

Mummy!

My father, my own father has left me! He has abandoned me to deal with this dreadful calamity all on my own!

What a hateful, bitter sight is Helen! Abominable creature! Godless!

And I? I will be led to a godless slaughter by a godless father!

If only this town, if only Aulis, had refused to let all these Troy-destined ships enter her harbour! Them and their pine sterns and their shiny bronze prows!

And if only Zeus had not breathed his contrary wind upon Euripus, this wind that stopped this expedition from leaving for Troy! This breath that quieted the breezes in the Greek sails!

He sends all sorts of winds to sailors: winds to make them happy to lift their sails and plunge into the sea, winds to make them sad because they must furl their sails; and winds that make other sailors crazy because they’re forced to move too slowly.

How harsh is the life of mortals!

How full of torment is life for us ephemeral creatures!

Our Fate dictates misery for us all!

How much suffering, how much pain has Helen, Tyndareus’ daughter, brought upon us, upon the children of Danaus!

CHORUS:

What an awful, pitiful fate you must endure, child! I wish you could avert it somehow.

[For a moment a great deal of shouting by men is heard behind the curtains]

[All the women are frightened and turn towards it. Iphigeneia hugs her mother]

IPHIGENEIA:

[Looking into the distance behind curtains]

Mother, I see a group of men coming towards us!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

[Peers into the distance anxiously for a moment but is finally relieved]

Ah! That’s Achilles, my darling. The goddess’ son. He is the very reason you are here!

IPHIGENEIA:

Servants, quickly, open the doors of the tent so that I may hide!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Oh, no, child! Why run away?

IPHIGENEIA:

Mother, I’m too ashamed to face Achilles.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

But why, child?

IPHIGENEIA:

I am ashamed because my marriage has turned out to be such a dismal failure.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Darling, no! The circumstances are too dire now for modesty and for polite coyness! Stay here.

This might turn out to be a blessing for us –

[She hands Orestes to her]

[Enter Achilles with fellow soldiers in full armour]

ACHILLES:

Dear, unfortunate Klytaimestra…

KLYTAIMESTRA:

“Unfortunate,” Achilles, yes, that is true!

ACHILLES:

The whole army is calling out for…

KLYTAIMESTRA:

What, Achilles? What does the army want? Tell me!

ACHILLES:

The whole army wants her – your daughter – killed!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

The whole army? Does no one speak against it?

ACHILLES:

I did but they’re shouting at me, too! They want me to…

KLYTAIMESTRA:

You? What do they want to do with you?

ACHILLES:

They want to stone me to death, Klytaimestra!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Why? Because you’re trying to save my girl?

ACHILLES:

That’s right.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

But who on earth would dare touch you, Achilles?

ACHILLES:

Who? The whole Greek army, Klytaimestra, that’s who!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

The whole of the Greek army? What about your own soldiers, Achilles, what about your Myrmidons? Did they not side with you?

ACHILLES:

They were the worst of them all! They hate me the most!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

[Turning to Iphigeneia]

Then that’s the end, my sweetheart! We are doomed now!

ACHILLES:

They jeered at me! Called me slave to a wedding bed!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Did they? And how did you respond to that?

ACHILLES:

I told them that if that’s what they thought, then they should not kill my intended wife.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Of course!

ACHILLES:

Her father had promised her to me!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

And kept his promise by bringing her here, to you, all the way from Argos!

ACHILLES:

But all that shouting!

I just couldn’t get through to them! I was beaten by all the noise.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

That’s what a mob is like! Awful!

ACHILLES:

Still, I’ll help you anyway.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

You, alone? You’ll fight them all?

ACHILLES:

Alone? Can you not see these men in full armour?

KLYTAIMESTRA:

May the gods give your heart strength!

ACHILLES:

I hope so!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

So, my darling will not be put to the sword?

ACHILLES:

Not if I’ll have anything to say about it!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Will anyone come to take her away?

ACHILLES:

Yes, many and they’ll be lead by Odysseus!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Odysseus? You mean, the son of Sisyphus?

ACHILLES:

Yes, that’s the one!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Was he picked by the army to do this or is this his own private doing?

ACHILLES:

He was elected, all right, but he didn’t say “no”!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Elected to commit a murder! How dreadful!

ACHILLES:

But don’t worry, I’ll certainly make it hard for him!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Will he try and come here and drag my darling away, just like that, against her will?

ACHILLES:

Yes. He’ll grab her by her blond hair, if he has to and…

KLYTAIMESTRA:

So what should I do?

ACHILLES:

You must grab her and not let go of her.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

I’ll certainly try that – if that’s the last thing I do!

ACHILLES:

Yes, it might be just that. The very last thing you do.

IPHIGENEIA:

Mummy please listen!

I can see that you’re angry at your husband but I think you’re wrong about that.

There is no point. We can’t go on fighting against Necessity!

[Indicating Achilles]

Our friend here should certainly be thanked for his efforts but we should be careful not to put his life in jeopardy against the army with no advance in our predicament.

Let me tell you my thoughts, mother.

It’s obvious that there’s no escaping my death; so now, I want to die nobly. I don’t want anyone to think despicable things about me.

Let me die in clear, unblemished glory.

[Klytaimestra shakes her head]

No, listen to me, mummy!

[She hands Orestes to her]

Listen, mummy and see if I’m not right.

All the eyes of Greece are upon me.

Her strength depends upon me.

Her expedition to Troy and its destruction depends upon me.

The future of our Greek women rests upon my actions. The barbarians will no longer abduct them and carry them off from our wealthy shores, once Helen’s abduction by Paris has been avenged.

My death will bring about all this liberation and my good name will live into eternity.

People will talk about how I’ve saved Greece.

And then… there’s also this: what right do I have to love my life so much?

You haven’t given birth to me simply for your own sake! No, you’ve brought me to life so that the whole of Greece may rejoice!

How can I insult all those countless brave warriors and their shields, all those myriads of men, clasping hard at the oars – men with courage enough to attack our enemy and die for our country, to clear her name?

How can I insult them all – insult their efforts, by trying to save myself – I, one, single life?

Would that be just?

What would my excuse be, mother?

And then there’s yet this:

We are asking this good friend of ours here to fight with the whole Greek army and be killed – for what? For a mere woman? No, mother!

No, I’d rather see the death of a thousand women than that of a single man!

A goddess, mother, the goddess Artemis has called for my body.

How could I, a mortal, go against that? I could not. I shall give it to her for the sake of Greece.

Come! All of you! Prepare my sacrifice. Soldiers, go and tear down Troy!

Let that act be what I’ll be remembered by. Let that stand for me in place of the children and the marriage I could have had.

Let that be my fame!

Let the Greeks win, mother, not the barbarians.

We are a free people, whereas they are slaves.

CHORUS:

You’re a brave girl, Iphigeneia. What an awful Fate the gods have delivered to you!

ACHILLES:

Yes, it would have been some god’s blessing had I married you, daughter of Agamemnon! Greece is lucky to have you as one of her daughters – I envy her and I envy you because you are lucky to have Greece as your mother.

Your words are good, worthy of our country. You have chosen logic and good intentions to that of continuing a war against Fate and against Necessity.

You are indeed a brave, noble person, Iphigeneia and for that reason I want you to be my wife.

I want to marry you, to take you to my home and to protect you. I swear by my mother, the goddess Thetis, that I shall fight the Greeks to save you!

Think again, Iphigeneia! Death is a dreadful thing!

IPHIGENEIA:

I’m not afraid to say this in front of everyone: Helen, Tyndareus’ daughter, has caused wars and the endless spilling of blood because of her body. Let hers be the last one to do so!

My friend, neither kill nor be killed because of me. Let me, instead, save Greece, if I can.

ACHILLES:

No, Iphigeneia! You are, indeed, a noble soul and you leave me speechless and unable to argue against your views. The decision is yours and it is a brave one, I admit that.

But listen to me, Iphigeneia. You might still change your mind. Once you see the knife approaching your neck you might well call for my help.

I shall be there, very near the altar.

My armed comrades will be there with me to save your life, to stop your execution. I won’t let anyone take your life even though it would be against your wish.

[Exit Achilles. Klytaimestra bursts into tears]

IPHIGENEIA:

Mother, you’re crying!

But why?

Come, say something!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Yes… I am crying!

There is a great reason to cry…

My misery is too great…

IPHIGENEIA:

Come, now, mother, don’t make me lose heart! Shhhh… listen to me!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

All right…

Speak.

I…

Speak and I will listen!

IPHIGENEIA:

[She runs her fingers gently through her mother’s hair]

Promise me, mummy! Promise me that you won’t cut even a strand of your hair in mourning… nor wear black!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

What? Can I not mourn my daughter’s loss?

IPHIGENEIA:

But there is no loss, mummy!

My life, mummy, my life has been saved! And you, you will carry the honour of my deed wherever you go!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

But you’re saying that I cannot mourn your death, my darling! How…

IPHIGENEIA:

No, mother. I want no one to lose tears over my grave. There will be no grave. No tomb, no tombstone!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

How can there be a death and not a grave? It is our custom to bury sacrificial offerings.

IPHIGENEIA:

Artemis’ altar will be my grave. The altar of Zeus’ daughter.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

All right!

You’ve persuaded me with wise words. I shall do as you say.

IPHIGENEIA:

I am a fortunate girl, mother. I shall serve Greece!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

What shall I tell your little sisters?

IPHIGENEIA:

Don’t let them wear black either!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

A sweet word of love from you?

IPHIGENEIA:

Wish them joy for me… and take good care of my little brother, Orestes for me. Bring him up to be a man.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

[Hands her the baby]

Here, take him into your arms for the last time. Look at him for the last time.

IPHIGENEIA:

[Cuddles Orestes tightly]

Darling, darling little brother! You’ve done all you could to help your big sister, haven’t you?

KLYTAIMESTRA:

What shall I do for you in Argos?

IPHIGENEIA:

Do not hate daddy – my daddy, your husband.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

No, what he’s done to you will cost him a great deal of trouble!

IPHIGENEIA:

Mother, he will sacrifice me for the sake of our country, for Hellas, against his will.

KLYTAIMESTRA:

And he will achieve this by trickery. Vile trickery, unworthy of his father, Atreas!

IPHIGENEIA:

[Hands Orestes back to her mother. Rolls her hand gently through her own hair]

[Thoughtfully]

My hair! Mother, who’ll come with me when they’ll come and drag me by my hair?

KLYTAIMESTRA:

I’ll come with you. I’ll…

IPHIGENEIA:

…No, mother! No, that’s not a good idea…

KLYTAIMESTRA:

I’ll hold you tight, by your clothes…

IPHIGENEIA:

No, mother. Listen to me! That would be bad for both of us.

[She goes to the door of the tent and opens it so that the servant may hear her]

No, mother, let one of daddy’s servants accompany me to Artemis’ woods, the place where I shall be sacrificed.

[A female servant enters from the tent]

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Darling! You’re going?

IPHIGENEIA:

Yes, mother. Going forever!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

And you will abandon your mother like this?

IPHIGENEIA:

Yes, mother. I must go. Unjustly but I must!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

[Grabs her by her arm]

No! No! Stop! Don’t go! Don’t leave me!

IPHIGENEIA:

Stop! Mother, no! I will not have you crying!

[She leads her mother into the tent and returns to centre stage]

[To the chorus]

You, girls! Raise a hymn now to the goddess Artemis, Zeus’ daughter, for the sad honour she has asked me to endure and let the women of Argos, the daughters of Danaus, hold a silence of reverence.

Let someone go and prepare the sacrificial basket and may the blessed fire burn high with the purifying barley.

And may my father work well his right hand upon me at the altar!

My sacrifice will bring about a victory for the Greeks and secure their safety.

Now, come, take me away to the altar! I, the destroyer of Priam’s city and its people!

A garland for my head… a garland for my hair… some holy water from the sacred basins!

[Some members of the chorus rush about her, placing garlands on her hair and sprinkling water upon her head]

Dance, girls, dance around Artemis’ altar!

Dance around the temple of the blessed goddess! If I must then I shall wash away her oracle with my blood, with my sacrifice upon her altar.

No, holy mother!

No, I will not shed any tears now. It is improper for tears to be shed during holy rites.

Come, friends, sing with me in praise of the goddess whose temple faces Chalkis, the place where the spears of war are waiting for me in anger!

There, in the narrow harbour of Aulis.

My country! My Pelasgia! My Mycenae! My home! My mother!

CHORUS:

That is the city of Perseus, you’re calling to! A city built by the Cyclopes!

IPHIGENEIA:

Pelasgia! You’ve raised me to be the shining light of Greece.

I do not fear my death!

CHORUS:

No, your name will never die!

IPHIGENEIA:

Glorious day!

Glorious sun! Zeus’ own light!

I’m leaving for another world! From now on I will live there in that other world.

Goodbye, sweet light!

[Exit Iphigeneia]

CHORUS:

And there goes the girl!

There goes the destroyer of Troy and her people!

There goes the girl with garlands on her hair and holy water upon her head!

There goes the girl who’ll soon stain the altar of the murderous goddess with the gushing blood of her beautiful throat!

Go, young girl! The sparkling water of your ancestral streams is waiting for you!

Go, young girl! Your father’s holy water is waiting for you!

Go, young girl! The Greek warriors are waiting for you, anxious to start off for Troy!

Friends, let us sing our prayer to Artemis! Let us pray for a good fortune!

O, dear goddess! Blessed Artemis!

Enjoy now the sacrifice of blood and then help the Greek army launch its expedition to the land of the Phrygians, Troy the treacherous!

Let Agamemnon’s spear see victory!

Let Agamemnon place a crown upon the head of Greece and let him be crowned in turn!

Let Agamemnon’s name live for ever in glory!

[Enter Second Messenger running excitedly]

[He goes to the tent and shouts through its door]

SECOND MESSENGER:

Klytaimestra! Klytaimestra! Daughter of Tyndareus! Come out here immediately! Come and hear my news!

[Enter Klytaimestra]

KLYTAIMESTRA:

I hear you, I hear you! Here I am.

Your voice has horrified me! I’m shaking with fear.

Are you here to add to the mountain of dread I have to endure already?

SECOND MESSENGER:

No, my lady! Indeed no! Rather, I have an amazing story to tell you about your daughter. A real miracle!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Go ahead then, speak. Don’t waste any time!

SECOND MESSENGER:

My dear lady I shall. You’ll soon hear it all. That is, if my brain doesn’t falter and make my tongue trip over its words!

We took Iphigeneia to the forest of Zeus’ daughter, Artemis. It’s a meadow full of bright and beautiful flowers.

The moment we got there with your daughter all the Greek soldiers gathered around us. Agamemnon saw his child on her way to her slaughter and immediately groaned with horrible pain. He lifted his cloak up and dug his face deep into it, trying to hide the tears that flooded his eyes.

Still, the girl came up close to him and said, “Daddy, here I am, ready to do as you say. I offer my body to my country and to the rest of Greece, willingly. Come, take me to the altar of the goddess. Sacrifice me. It is the wish of the Heavens. On my part, I wish you all happiness and may you return to the land of your fathers victorious. Let no Greek touch my body with his hand. I offer my neck quietly and with no fear for the knife.”

That’s what she said and every man there was amazed at the bravery and the virtue of the young girl.

Then Talthybius stood up amongst them all and told them to be silent. He was the one responsible for that job.

Then Calchas, the priest, took out a sharp sword out of its sheath and placed it in a basket made of gold. Then he placed a garland upon the girl’s head and sprinkled holy water on her hair.

Then Achilles, Peleas’ son, took the golden basket and the holy water in his hands and ran around the goddess’ altar, chanting:

“Oh, Artemis!

Oh daughter of Zeus!

Oh, killer of wild beasts!

Oh, goddess who lets her brilliant light roll along through the gloomy darkness of the night!

Accept this sacrifice which we, the Greek army and Agamemnon, offer to you!

Accept the pure blood from this girl’s lovely neck!

Accept it and grant us a safe journey!

Accept it and let our spears sack the tall towers of Troy!”

The whole army and both the sons of Atreas stood there in silence, their eyes downcast.

Then the priest took hold of the sword and, after a few words of prayer, began searching the girl’s neck looking for the best place to strike.

I… I felt a sharp pain cutting into my heart, my lady and I looked down onto the earth.

But then, suddenly a miracle happened, my lady!

All of us –we all heard the awful thud of the striking sword but when we looked up, we could not see the girl anywhere! She had vanished, my lady! Gone!

Then the priest lets out a huge roar and the whole army roared with him as they saw the most unbelievable sight, a sight that must have been sent by Heaven, a sight that made them question their very eyes.

There, my lady, there, upon the ground, lay a large animal, a beautiful stag, letting out its last breaths. Its blood spattered about, saturating the goddess’ altar!

You just can’t imagine Calchas’ joy, madam!

He spoke and he said, “Chiefs of the Greek army, can you see this offering? Can you see what the goddess has placed upon her altar? Can you see this stag, this animal that walks about in the mountains? The goddess would much rather have this animal offered to her than the girl so that her altar would not be defiled by shedding the blood of a human. She has accepted this offering gladly and has granted us a safe journey for our expedition against Troy. And so, soldiers, take heart and head for your ships because today we must leave behind the deep harbours of Aulis and cross our way through the vast Aegean sea!”

And when the animal was thoroughly burned in the flames of the god of fire, Hephaistos, and when the holy rites were completed, Calchas prayed for our safe return.

Then Agamemnon came to me and ordered me to come here and tell you what Fate the gods have granted to your daughter. It is a glory that will never wither in the minds of the Greeks.

Let me make it absolutely clear, my lady: I was there and I saw it with my own eyes! The girl is with the gods! She has flown away to the Heavens!

Be sad no more!

Be angry with your husband no more!

The gods do strange things, madam, things that baffle us mortals but they save those they love.

Your daughter, my lady, has today seen both death and life!

[Exit Second Messenger]

CHORUS:

What joyful news that messenger has brought you, my lady!

He said your daughter is still alive, my lady!

…and living with the gods!

KLYTAIMESTRA:

Darling Iphigeneia!

Sweet daughter! Which of the gods has stolen you?

How should I address you from now on?

And how can I be certain that this isn’t just an idle little story to cheer me up, to ease my dreadful grief for you?

CHORUS:

[Indicating within]

Ah! Here comes the king himself, my lady. Here comes Agamemnon!

He’ll be able to confirm the messenger’s words.

[Enter Agamemnon, excited]

AGAMEMNON:

Wife, we should consider ourselves very much blessed. Our daughter now lives among the gods. Now, you must take with you our newborn son from here and go back home. The Greek army is getting ready to sail.

Good bye, then!

It will be a long time before I return from Troy, a long time before I greet you again. May all things turn out well for you!

CHORUS:

Agamemnon, son of Atreas, begin now your journey to Troy and may it be a happy one!

Come back to us once you’ve taken from that city her fairest spoils!

Exit all

Iphigeneia in Tauris

Written 414-412 B.C.

First performed in 412 B.C.

Translated by

George Theodoridis

© 2009

https://bacchicstage.wordpress.com/

Dramatis Personae

IPHIGENEIA: Sister of Orestes

ORESTES: Brother of Iphigeneia

PYLADES: Friend of Orestes

HERDSMAN:

THOAS: King of Tauris

SERVANT AND MESSENGER: Of Thoas

THE GODDESS ATHENA: Appears through a dues ex machina

CHORUS: of Greek women, Iphigeneia’s servants

TWO MAIDS TO IPHIGENEIA: silent

VARIOUS GUARDS: silent

As Dawn slowly breaks we discern more and more clearly the eerie setting of the play.

It is the Temple of Artemis in Tauris (modern day Crimea).

In front and almost centre stage, an altar, heavily stained by the blood of sacrifices.

From the eves of the Temple hang human bones, skulls, pieces of armour.

Stains of spattered blood can also be seen on the columns and walls of the temple.

It will be disclosed that the victims sacrificed on that altar are humans.

The temple has two doors. Iphigeneia and the temple wardens use the central door. Others the side door.

SR leads to the seashore.

SL leads to Thoas’ palace.

FX: The gentle sounds of the sea in the distance.

Enter Iphigeneia from the centre door of the temple.

She is the priestess of Artemis.

FX: Cut sounds of the sea

IPHIGENEIA:

The moment Pelops, Tantalus’ son, arrived in Pisa on his swift horses, he married the daughter of Oenomaus and with her fathered Atreus who, in turn, fathered Menelaos and Agamemnon. I am Agamemnon’s daughter, Iphigeneia. My mother is Klytaimestra, Tyndareus’ daughter.

My father sacrificed me to Artemis, for Helen’s sake. At least that’s what he thought. The slaughter took place in the famous meadows of Aulis, by the tumbling salty tides of the dark sea that Euripus often whirls with his breezes.

There it was that my father, King Agamemnon, had gathered a fleet of a thousand Greek ships intending to win the crown of a glorious victory for the Greeks over the Trojans and, at the same time, appease his brother, Menelaos, by undoing the insult Paris had brought upon his marriage with Helen.

But the winds that bloat the sails of ships did not come and so Agamemnon checked the entrails of the burnt offerings. The priest, Calchas, examined them and declared thus: “Agamemnon, leader of all of Hellas, your ships will not leave this harbour unless you sacrifice to Artemis your daughter, Iphigeneia. You have sworn an oath to Artemis, the goddess who carries a torch on her nocturnal hunts, that you would slaughter for her the most beautiful thing born that year. Your wife, Klytaimestra, had given birth to a daughter that very year.”

Then the priest said that I, Iphigeneia, Klytaimestra’s daughter, was the most beautiful thing born that year and so, my father had to sacrifice me.

Then they took me from my mother and brought me to their camp at Aulis, under the pretext of marrying me to Achilles. That was one of Odysseus’ usual sly tricks. When I got there, they lifted me up above the altar and slaughtered me with a sword.

But Artemis snatched me away at the very last minute and in my place, on the altar, she put a deer. She picked me up and sped me through the bright air to have me land here, in Tauris, to live among the Taurians.

King Thoas rules this place. A barbarian, ruling barbarians. They call him Thoas because his feet are as swift as wings.

She made me her priestess in this temple and, ever since, I have done as custom dictates: I have conducted the sacrifices according to the rites of the Festival which the goddess Artemis loves so much.

Festival in name only, though I’m just too afraid of the goddess to talk about what really does go on during it. Not a word!

There is a law here. A law that says that if a Greek man sets foot on this land, he will be sacrificed to the goddess. My duty is to purify him and to prepare him for the slaughter. The rest of the work – work that cannot be talked about – is done inside. Inside the temple.

Now I’ll tell you about the disturbing visions this past night has brought to me. I want to utter them to the light of the Day. Perhaps this will bring me some sort of remedy. In that dream, I had escaped from this land and was back in Argos.

It was night and I was asleep in my own old quarters. The quarters assigned for little girls. Then the earth shook terribly and, afraid, I went outside.

Then I saw the eves, the roof, the whole palace tumbling down.

I think that I saw only one, a single column left standing.

Then – then the dream showed the column sprouting blond hair from its top. Then this column began uttering words, with a human voice.

Then I did what I do here. I wailed and sprinkled holy water on the column as if I were preparing it for sacrifice, as if it were a man.

I believe the meaning of this dream is this:

My brother, Orestes, is dead and I believe the dream is telling me that it was him I was sprinkling holy water on, preparing him for the altar!

Now, two things must be considered: First, boys are the columns of a house and second, anyone my holy water touches dies.

I cannot think of anyone else that the dream could be referring to. My uncle Strophios had no sons at the time when my death was supposed to have taken place.

But now, now, I am waiting for the Greek maids the king has given me, to come and help me pour libations to my missing brother. It’s the only thing I can do for him from here. But why are they so late?

I think I’ll go inside the temple of the goddess and wait for them there. This temple is also my home.

[Iphigeneia enters the temple]

[A few seconds later Orestes and Pylades appear (SR). They examine the place cautiously]

ORESTES:

Be careful, Pylades! Look all around you. Is there anyone on the road?

PYLADES:

I am being careful! I’m looking all around us.

ORESTES:

Pylades, do you think this temple looks like that of the goddess we’re looking for? Do you think it’s the one we’ve sailed from Argos for?

PYLADES:

Yes, this is the one, Orestes. This must be it. Don’t you think so?

ORESTES:

Look, here is the altar, drenched in Greek blood.

PYLADES:

The whole of its top is painted red with the blood.

ORESTES:

Look up there! Look at all the prizes hanging up there, under the eves!

PYLADES:

Human skulls! Skulls of men who were sacrificed! Watch out, Orestes!

Examine the place very carefully.

ORESTES:

[Addressing the Heavens]

O, Phoebus Apollo! What kind of trap have you set up for me with your oracles this time? They have sent me to murder my mother and avenge my father’s murder; and after that, they had me hunted down by the Furies whichever way I ran.

Because of your oracles I had become a wandering exile until I went to your temple and asked you for a way to escape their frenzied anger and that’s when you told me to come here. Here, in Tauris where your sister, the goddess Artemis, has her temple and her statue, a statue they say which has fallen here from the sky and which you have ordered me to take away from here, any way I can, including by use of trickery.

Then, once I completed this dangerous task, you’ve told me to take the statue to Athens and dedicate it to her people.

That’s all you said I should do, Apollo and then, you promised, I would be released from my torment. So here I am, Apollo. In a foreign and inhospitable land.

[Turning to Pylades]

Pylades, my poor companion in this labour, what do you think we should do now? The walls of the temple, as you can see are very tall. Do you think we can enter it through the roof? Surely, they’ll see us if we tried.

Do you think we should try to break the bronze padlocks with crow bars? We know nothing about padlocks.

They’ll catch us trying to break them and then they’ll kill us.

No Pylades, rather than die, let’s get back to the ship with which we came here and let’s –

PYLADES:

– run away? Unbearable stuff!

Cowardice is a shameful thing, Orestes. It’s not in our nature. We can’t betray Apollo’s command. Let’s just move away from the temple, go into one of those caves, one that’s been battered by the black waves, away from the ship, in case someone sees it and tells their king. They’ll search the place and catch us.

Then, when the eye of the gloomy night comes, then, Orestes, we must pluck up our courage and steal the statue the best way we can!

Look there, see? We can climb down through those triglyphs there! There’s enough space for us.

Brave deeds, Orestes are accomplished by brave men. The cowards accomplish nothing.

ORESTES:

You’re right, Pylades. We have not crossed all these oceans so as to turn back just before we accomplish our deed.

You’re quite right. I must listen to you. Let us go and hide in some place where they cannot find us.

I won’t be the one who has caused the fall of Apollo’s command.

Come then, Pylades, courage! Danger does not make young men hesitate.

[Exit Orestes and Pylades, SR]

[Enter the chorus]

CHORUS:

[To the audience]

To all of you whose homes are here, by the twin rocks that clash against each other, in this inhospitable sea, keep reverent silence!

O, Artemis! Dictynna, daughter of Leto!

Goddess of the mountains! Huntress!

Revered virgin!

We, maids to the holy virgin who holds the keys of your temple, have come, in answer to her call.

We have left the tall towers and the high walls of Greece, a horse-loving land, a land of Europe, a land of marvellous trees, the land of my home.

[Enter Iphigeneia from the temple. She is accompanied by two maids, one carrying a golden cup, the other an urn]

CHORUS:

Ah, Iphigeneia, daughter of Agamemnon! Daughter of Atreus’ son who took the glorious fleet of one thousand Greek ships to the Trojan towers.

We are here. What news? What troubles you? Why call us here to the temple?

IPHIGENEIA:

O, dear, dear friends!

Misery of miseries! Unbearable pain! Lament most hurtful!

No lyre accompanies these wails, my dear friends!

Wails of grief! Wails of death!

I cry, dear friends, in grief of my brother’s death!

I saw a dreadful dream last night. A vision that showed the total destruction of my race. I am lost! I am destroyed!

My father’s race, dear friends, that noble race of the Atreides, is no more!

O, the misery in Argos! How that city suffers!

O, Fate! Fate most bitter!

You’ve snatched the only brother I had and took him down to the halls of Hades!

I have brought these libations for him which I will pour upon Earth’s broad shoulders:

Milk from the mountain herds…

Wine, Bacchus’ blessed offering…

Honey, the work of the golden bees.

Such things soften the pains of the dead.

[To one of her attendants]

Come, give me the golden bowl.

[The attendant obeys and Iphigeneia takes the bowl. Then, to the other attendant]

And the offerings for Hades.

[The attendant obeys]

[Iphigeneia holds the urn and the bowl up high as she intones]

O, child of Agamemnon!

Orestes, who’s now in Earth’s dark embrace, down below!

I have brought you these offerings, offerings for the dead.

Receive them!

I cannot bring a lock of my blond hair to your grave, my brother, or let a tear fall upon it from my eyes. Because now, now I am far from the land that nourished us both. Far from that land where the people think of me, poor woman, as having been slaughtered and dead.

CHORUS:

And we, my lady, we shall sing with you, wild sounds, laments usually heard in the East. We’ll sing laments and odes that please the dead, songs sung by Hades himself.

Sounds that bring dread to the living.

Ah!

Ah!

Ah!

The glorious light of the royal palace has died!

The house of the Atreides is destroyed!

Gone is the spark of the royal line!

Gone is the wealth of the kings of Argos!

Ah!

Ah!

Ruin! Destruction!

Misery upon misery since the brilliant winged chariot of the Sun God turned from its path to avert its holy sight from the treachery of the golden sheep.

Sorrow upon sorrow! Pain upon pain! Murder upon murder!

And so, the vengeance of all the murdered sons of Tantalus visits all its new sons!

But as for you, dear girl! As for you, Fate works upon you unjustly!

IPHIGENEIA:

My Fate was black from birth, dear friends.

Black from the very moment my mother undid her girdle, from that very night I was conceived. Since then the Fates, the goddesses who preside over births, have fastened a hard grip upon my life!

Ah!

I was the first blossom of the house!

Wooed by all the nobles of Greece!

Slaughtered on the altar by my own father’s arrogance!

It was for him and for that very slaughter that my poor mother, Leda’s daughter, gave birth to me!

She had raised a miserable victim for that unholy sacrifice!

They had carried me down to the sandy shores of Aulis on a bitter horse-drawn carriage, to be a bride, a sad bride, to Achilles, son of Thetis the daughter of Nereus.

Ah!

But now, here I am, a stranger, living in a house surrounded by a hostile sea, with no husband, with no children, with no city and with no friends!

Exiled from Greece. Forgotten by Greece.

I sing no songs for Hera at Argos.

I weave no more. My shuttle does not sing upon the loom! It does not weave in many colours the pictures of Pallas Athena and the Titans.

Ah!

These days, I bless the rites of the dreadful sacrifices of strangers whose blood colours this altar, the blood of men who wail with despair, who cry with despair, sounds unaccompanied by the flute.

Ah!

But now I will not think of those men but of another.

Now I will weep for one who died in Argos. Orestes, my own brother whom I left behind, a tiny sapling, a baby at my mother’s breast, deep inside her arms.

My brother, Orestes, bearer of the sceptre of the royal house of Argos.

CHORUS:

[Indicating behind the wings]

My lady, a herdsman! He’s left the seashore to bring you some news.

Enter Herdsmen from SR. They look excited

HERDSMAN:

Iphigeneia, daughter of Agamemnon and Klytaimestra, I have some surprising news for you!

IPHIGENEIA:

Surprising? What could be so surprising about your news?

HERDSMAN:

Iphigeneia, two young men! They’ve managed to escape the Clashing Rocks and they’ve landed here, in our country. They would certainly make a pleasant offering, Iphigeneia, a sacrifice to our goddess, Artemis! Come, Iphigeneia, quickly, prepare the rites for the blessing and their purification!

IPHIGENEIA:

Can you tell from their appearance which country they are from?

HERDSMAN:

I can only tell that they are from Greece, nothing more.

IPHIGENEIA:

What about their names? Did you hear them? Do you know what they’re called?

HERDSMAN:

I heard the name of one of them. One of them had called the other, Pylades.

IPHIGENEIA:

What about the other one? Did you hear what his friend was called?

HERDSMAN:

No, Iphigeneia. We didn’t hear his name, so none of us knows.

IPHIGENEIA:

So, tell me how you came across them, tell me how you caught them.

HERDSMAN:

We were down at the shore, where the surf of the hostile sea crashes.

IPHIGENEIA:

The shore? Why would herdsmen go to the sea shore?

HERDSMAN:

We took our cattle down there, Iphigeneia. We usually wash them with salt water.

IPHIGENEIA:

I see. Good. Begin your story again, then. I want to know exactly how you’ve caught them, so tell me that. It’s been a long time since Greeks landed here and Artemis’ altar is not yet had its fill of Greek blood.

HERDSMAN:

Our cattle graze up in the pastures of the forest but we take them down to that part of the shore, where the ocean waters flow through the clashing rocks. Just there, where there is a cave hollowed out by the constant crashing of the great waves. The porphyry fishers use it as a shelter. One of our drovers was down there and he saw these two young men, so he carefully snuck away and rushed to tell us about them.

“Look there,” he said. “See those two sitting over there? They are gods!”

Then, one of us, a devout man, turned in their direction and, raising his hands in prayer, said, “O Lord Palaemon, son of Leukothea, goddess of the sea! You, the protector of ships, or if you are the Dioscouri, or some boys loved by Nereus, the father of the bright chorus of Nereids, be merciful to us!”

But then, another one of our companions, a crude man, a fool with no manners or faith, laughed at the first man and his prayers and said that those men there, who were sitting in that cave, were nothing but shipwrecked sailors, hiding in there because they must have heard that we sacrifice strangers on this island.

Most of us agreed with him and so we decided to obey our laws and catch them so as to have them sacrificed to our goddess.

However, one of the foreigners got out from behind the rock, got up, shook his head about and began screaming and groaning and shaking his hands like a madman! Then, he called out to his friend:

“You see this one too, Pylades? This one here? And there? You see this beast, this Fury from Hades? See how she wants to kill me? To strangle me with her dreadful vipers? Look at them! They’ve turned towards me! And that other one there! And there, another one! Fire and blood drip from her clothes as she flaps her wings. Look! She has my mother in her arms, a huge stone to hurl at me! She will kill me, Pylades? Where can I escape?”

But we couldn’t see any of what he saw. He must have confused the noises of the cattle-bellows and the barks of the dogs with what the Furies are supposed to sound like. We thought he was going to die so we sat there holding our breath. Then he pulled out his sword out and, like a lion, charged at our cattle, jabbing them at the ribs and at the sides, as if he thought he was defending himself against the Furies.

Buds and blossoms of red blood covered the sea.

Seeing what he was doing to our cattle, cutting them down, killing them, we all took some weapon or other and also blew the warning conch to summon what people were nearby. We thought that herdsmen like us could never win in a fight against such strong young strangers. Pretty soon a fair crowd of us gathered around but by then, the foreigner had stopped his fit of madness and fell to the ground, his beard drenched with foam. This gave us an advantage and we all rushed to throw stones at him and to beat him up as hard as we could.

But the other foreigner, the one he called Pylades, came over to him, wiped the froth from his beard and spread his heavy cloak over him to shield and protect his body. Pylades warded off our stones and blows with his garment and also tried to comfort his friend. And then the stranger on the ground regained his senses and jumped to his feet but he saw how close to them all their enemies were and also sensed that Fate was about to make her move upon them. He groaned at the prospect but we did not stop. We kept hurling stones at them and hitting them as hard as we could.

That’s when we heard this desperate shout: “Pylades, we will die, so let’s die honorably! Come, draw your sword and follow me!”

At the sight of the two swords drawn against us we ran. We scattered all around and into the woods of the valley. Some of us, though stayed and continued hurling stones at the strangers and when that lot was pushed back by the strangers, the first lot that had fled came rushing back and went on with the pelting.

But something incredible was happening: Of all the stones that were hurled at the strangers, none hit them! None touched our goddess’ victims!

Finally we caught them! Not because of our courage and ability but because we fought hard.

First we surrounded them and then we knocked the swords out of their hands with our stones. Then they became really exhausted and just sank to their knees.

After that, we took them to our king who, the moment he saw them, sent them over to you, to purify them and prepare them for the sacrifice.

Young lady, these are the sort of victims you should always pray for!

It’s only by sacrificing such strangers that Greece will pay for your murder, for your sacrifice at Aulis.

CHORUS:

What a strange tale you tell of this madman, whoever he is!

A Greek that came here, to this hostile sea!

IPHIGENEIA:

Right then. You go and bring the foreigners and I’ll see to the holy preparations here.

[Exit the Herdsman]

O, my long-suffering heart!

You were always compassionate and sympathetic, soft towards the fate of strangers and you shed a tear when those strangers who were brought to you for the sacrifice were fellow Greeks. But this time, this dream I had last night, turned me into a wild beast because now I believe that my Orestes no longer sees the light of the sun.

Whoever you are, you men who have come here, will find me a hard-hearted woman.

What they say is true, my dear friends. I know it, I feel it in my soul:

Those whose Fate is miserable feel no pity for those whose Fate is even worse!

But Zeus has not yet sent a breeze strong enough for a ship carrying Helen herself to sail through the Clashing Rocks. Helen and Menelaos, the two who brought about my death! These two have not come for me to take my vengeance upon them, to make this place an Aulis like that in Greece, where the Greeks grabbed me like some calf and slit my throat upon an altar. The priest who had performed that sacrifice was none other than my own father!

Ah!

Ah!

How can I forget? How can I forget that despair?

How can I forget how many times I had stretched my arm out to him, to try and touch his chin, or kneel down and hang from his knees calling out to him, “Father, what a shameful marriage you’re sending me off to! Father! Father, at this very moment, this moment that you’re killing me, my mother, back home, is singing my wedding songs along with other Argive women. This very moment the whole house is echoing with the sounds of flutes, yet at this very moment, from you, I receive death! While I was on that cart with which you brought me here, you had betrayed me! You had promised me a marriage with Achilles, Peleus’ son but, instead, you’re now sending me to a blood-stained marriage with Hades!”

I hid my eyes behind my wedding dress and did not lift my little brother up into my arms and now he’s dead. Nor did I kiss my sister in the mouth, obeying the custom of a virgin going off to her wedding. I thought then that I was only going to the house of Peleus. So many farewells I had put off then because I thought that I’d soon return home. Orestes! Orestes, my unfortunate brother!

O, the wealth and the grandeur of the house you’ve left behind! Your father’s house!

But I hate the sly cleverness of this goddess!

She deems unclean anyone who has touched with his hands the blood of someone murdered or a corpse, or a woman who is in labour and forbids them from approaching her altars, yet, she, herself rejoices in the sacrifices of mortals!

How could anyone believe that Leto, Zeus bride, could have given birth to such a foolish creature?

And I don’t believe the story about that feast that Tantalus gave to the gods, where, supposedly, the gods had enjoyed eating the flesh of his own son.

No, I think these people here, the Taurians are a murderous lot and they use the goddess as an excuse for their bloody deeds.

I don’t believe at all that any of the gods is evil.

[Exit Iphigeneia and her maids into the temple]

CHORUS:

Dark, most dark the wild union of seas traversed by the winged frenzy…

Through the hostile ocean the waves carried the cow, Io, from Argos…

Leaving Europe behind and adopting Asia as her new home.

Who are they, then? Who is it who has left the lush, cool springs of reedy Eurotas?

Who are they who have left Dirke’s wild streams, to come to this untamed land? To come here, where Zeus’ daughter, Artemis, steeps the altars and the temples with their rich colonnades, in the blood of mortals?

Was it insatiable greed for wealth to clog their houses with, that brought these sea farers here?

They’ve cut across the ocean’s waves with their ships, two banks of oars made of pine on them and linen sails, bloated by the wind.

They’ve come because the hope for riches always warms the heart and is unquenchable.

A gushing stream of curses for all mortals!

They travel to foreign lands, all with a single purpose in mind.

Some miss the moment, others are lucky.

But how did they manage to pass through the Clashing Rocks?

And what of the restless shores of Phineus?

Shore by shore they reached the surging waves of Amfitrite.

At those shores, when the wind billows the sails, the fifty daughters of Nereus dance and sing in circles.

And Zephyr’s breezes or the southern gales whistle through the oars resting at the stern.

And so, they’ve come here, to the shore of the white sand and of the great flocks of birds and where Achilles has built his racing track, here, by this sea, the sea that hates foreigners.

How I wish that the prayers of my mistress, Artemis were answered and Helen, Leda’s darling daughter somehow left Troy and suddenly appeared here!

Here, she would know the feel of the sacrificial water, sprinkled all around her hair…

Sprinkled by the hand of my mistress herself, a sprinkling that brings forth blood and slaughter and justice for all she’s done throughout her life.

But the best news to receive would be that someone from Greece has sailed here to rescue me, poor soul from the torment of slavery.

How I wish, even in a dream, to have visited my parents’ home, in my own city! What joy do dreams bring!

Dreams are a common delight to us all.

[Indicating within, SR]

Ah! Look! The two young men! Here they are, their hands tied fast, coming for the sacrifice.

Fresh blood!

New blood for the goddess!

[Enter the herdsman with two armed guards leading Orestes and Pylades, their hands in chains. Whispers of surprise and awe from the chorus]

[Loudly so that they may be heard by Iphigeneia in the temple]

Silence, my friends! The herdsman was right. The two most precious buds of Greece are approaching the altar.

[Enter Iphigeneia from the temple]

CHORUS:

[Praying]

O, revered Artemis!

If these rituals, performed by this city for you, give you any pleasure, then accept these sacrifices!

They are against the holy laws of our own land and deemed abhorrent by all the Greeks.

IPHIGENEIA:

[To the chorus]

Enough, friends!

Let me tend to my first duty which is to make sure that the rites of our goddess are properly observed.

Untie the hands of the foreigners. Foreigners are sacred. It is not proper that they are bound.

[The guards obey]

[To the Herdsman and the guards]

Now you go into the temple and prepare all that is necessary for the sacrifice.

[The Herdsman and the guards obey, entering the temple by the side door]

[To Orestes and Pylades]

Ah!

Poor men! I wonder who your mother is and your father.

I wonder who is your sister – if you do have a sister. How could she lose brothers like you two, fine young men and not sink into utter despair?

Ah!

Fate! Who knows what sort of Fate might befall anyone?

All things that come to us from the gods, come to us slithering, like invisible snakes. When they will come to us and where from, no one knows. Disaster strikes in a most mystifying, unexpected way.

Ah!

Unfortunate strangers, where are you from?

It must have taken you a long time to sail all the way to this land but now, now you’ll stay away from your home for ever. Your new home will be below the earth.

ORESTES:

Why grieve like this about such things and add more grief upon the grief that we must suffer?

Who are you, woman?

I think it’s improper for people who are about to slaughter someone, to try and sweeten that slaughter with pity.

And it’s not wise for the one who’s about to die and there is no hope of escape, to cry about his imminent death. To do that, would be to turn one pain into two: He’ll be thought of as a fool and he’ll die anyway!

Such things are best left to Fate.

As for you, don’t cry for us. We know very well what sort of sacrifices take place here.

IPHIGENEIA:

Which one of you was called by the other, Pylades?

Let me find that out first.

ORESTES:

[Indicating Pylades]

If this knowledge pleases you, then let me tell you it’s this man.

IPHIGENEIA:

Which Greek city is he from?

ORESTES:

What will you gain by knowing that?

IPHIGENEIA:

Are you from the same mother? Are you brothers?

ORESTES:

We are brothers by friendship, not by birth.

IPHIGENEIA:

And you? What name has your father given you?

ORESTES:

Better if he had given me the name “Unfortunate.”

IPHIGENEIA:

I’m not asking you about that. That is Fate’s business.

ORESTES:

Better die without a name. That way I’ll escape ridicule.

IPHIGENEIA:

Why don’t you want to tell me your name? Are you that proud?

ORESTES:

Because you’ll only be sacrificing my body then and not my name.

IPHIGENEIA:

Will you also not tell me your city?

ORESTES:

I’m about to die. What good will it do you to know such things?

IPHIGENEIA:

But what stops you from granting me this favour?

ORESTES:

Then, I am proud to say that my city is famous Argo.

IPHIGENEIA:

O, gods! Is that true, stranger? Are you truly from Argos?

ORESTES:

From prosperous Mycenae, in fact.

IPHIGENEIA:

But what made you leave that place? Or, did you fall upon some misfortune?

ORESTES:

I am an exile, yes. Of my own will… and yet not.

IPHIGENEIA:

Will you tell me something I want to know, I wonder.

ORESTES:

So far as my misfortune will allow me to do so.

IPHIGENEIA:

And yet, your arrival here from Argos has made me very happy.

ORESTES:

It might have you made happy but it did no such thing to me.

IPHIGENEIA:

Tell me then. Everyone knows about Troy, do you?

ORESTES:

I wish I didn’t. Not even from my dreams.

IPHIGENEIA:

They say that city was destroyed by the war.

ORESTES:

They have informed you well. That’s how it is.

IPHIGENEIA:

Then, has Helen returned to Menelaos’ palace?

ORESTES:

She has and by doing so she brought disaster to some one I know.

IPHIGENEIA:

So, where is she now? And as for disasters, she has caused me one, as well.

ORESTES:

She lives in Sparta, with her first husband.

IPHIGENEIA:

O, hateful woman! Hated not only by me but by all the Greeks!

ORESTES:

I, too have enjoyed something out of her marriage.

IPHIGENEIA:

They say all the Greeks have returned home. Is that true?

ORESTES:

Heavens! Bit by bit you are telling me the whole story!

IPHIGENEIA:

I want to know that whole story before you die.

ORESTES:

Well then, if you want to know it so badly, go ahead: ask me your questions and I’ll answer them.

IPHIGENEIA:

There was a seer. His name was Calchas. Has he returned from Troy?

ORESTES:

No. The Myceneans were saying that he died there.

IPHIGENEIA:

O, Artemis, my goddess! Thank you. What of Laertes’ son, Odysseus?

ORESTES:

They say he’s still alive but he hasn’t reached home yet.

IPHIGENEIA:

I hope he, too, dies and never makes it home!

ORESTES:

You shouldn’t curse the man. Nothing is going well for him.

IPHIGENEIA:

What of the Nereid’s son, Achilles? Is he still alive?

ORESTES:

No. He’s dead, so that marriage of his, at Aulis, came to nothing.

IPHIGENEIA:

Those who know him, know very well just how treacherous the man was.

ORESTES:

Who are you? How pertinent are your questions!

IPHIGENEIA:

I am from those parts and in those parts I died when I was but a child.

ORESTES:

You’re quite right, then, lady, to long for news from there.

IPHIGENEIA:

What of the General? That great General who, they all say, is doing very well for himself.

ORESTES:

Which General do you mean? Because the General I know is not among the prosperous.

IPHIGENEIA:

I mean that man who was a king. Agamemnon, son of Atreus.

ORESTES:

[shocked, turns away]

I… I know nothing about him. Change the subject.

IPHIGENEIA:

O, no! In Heaven’s name! Tell me, friend. Please tell me about him! It will give me joy!

ORESTES:

The poor man… died. And with his death he took someone else’s life.

IPHIGENEIA:

Ah!

He died? But how?

Ah!

What dreadful misery for me!

ORESTES:

Why are you grieving like this? Was he a relative of yours?

IPHIGENEIA:

I grieve for the happiness he once enjoyed!

ORESTES:

His death was horrible. He was slaughtered by his wife.

IPHIGENEIA:

Endless the tears for the murderess, endless the tears for the murdered.

ORESTES:

Enough! Stop! Ask me no more questions!

IPHIGENEIA:

One last question: His wife, is she still alive?

ORESTES:

No. She is not. Her own son killed her with his own hands!

IPHIGENEIA:

Ah!

What a troubled house! But why did he do this?

ORESTES:

As punishment for his father’s murder.

IPHIGENEIA:

An evil, justly done!

ORESTES:

True, “justly done” but the gods will not allow him to rejoice in it.

IPHIGENEIA:

Any other of Agamemnon’s children still living?

ORESTES:

He has only one daughter left, Elektra.

IPHIGENEIA:

What of that daughter of his that was slaughtered? Are they saying anything about her?

ORESTES:

No, no one speaks of her. Only that she was sacrificed.

IPHIGENEIA:

Unfortunate the girl and unfortunate her father who had to kill her.

ORESTES:

An unjust death. She was killed for the sake of a horrible woman.

IPHIGENEIA:

What of the son of this murdered king? Is he still alive?

ORESTES:

Yes, he is still alive but he has a wretched life. He is nowhere, yet he is everywhere!

IPHIGENEIA:

Oh, dreams! What nonsense you were! You were false. Meaningless, worthless!

ORESTES:

The gods, too, whom the prophets call wise, are like those fleeting dreams: False!

Both worlds, the divine as well as the mortal, are equally chaotic.

And this is the thing that saddens this man: Even though he’s a wise man, he still believed in the prophesies and so, he was destroyed.

Those who know him, know how that happened.

CHORUS:

And what about us?

Are our parents alive or dead?

Who can tell us?

IPHIGENEIA:

Hear me friends.

A thought has just entered my mind.

And you, too, strangers. This will profit you as well as me, which is the best way to go about such things, by pleasing everyone involved with the one action.

Tell me: If I were to spare your life, would you undertake to deliver news, as well as a letter to my friends in Argos?

The letter has been written by a prisoner who felt sorry for me and who didn’t believe that my hand is a murderous hand and that it is the law of the goddess that does the murdering, because she thinks murder is justice.

So far, there’s been no one who could take the letter back to Argos, no one who has overcome all the difficulties of getting there and delivered the letter to someone in my family.

But you, you seem to have come from a noble family and you also know all those in Mycenae I love. Well then, save your life! Your reward for the small deed of delivering a letter will not be small, it will be your life!

As for your friend though, since the city requires it, let him remain here and be sacrificed to the goddess.

ORESTES:

You speak well, my friend, but you’re wrong about one thing: This man’s sacrifice would be too heavy a burden for me to bear.

In this journey, it is I who has loaded the ship with all the misfortunes.

This man has sailed with me to share the pain of my ordeals, so it isn’t right that I should escape those ordeals by bringing about his destruction.

Rather, let us do it this way: Give him your letter. He’ll go back to Argos and do as you wish. If there’s any need for anyone to kill someone, then let that someone be me. It’s a shameful thing for a man to save his life by throwing his friends into destruction. This man is so dear a friend to me that I wish him to look upon the sun’s light for no less a time than me.

IPHIGENEIA:

O, what a noble heart! You must obviously come from a noble family indeed, to be so loyal a friend to your friends! How I wish that my one remaining brother were like you!

Because, strangers, I, too have a brother – a brother that I have but cannot see!

So be it then. If that’s what you want, then let him go and you stay and be sacrificed.

It seems that you have some strong reason why you wish this.

ORESTES:

Who’ll perform the dreadful deed of sacrificing me?

IPHIGENEIA:

Me. That’s the service I perform for the goddess.

ORESTES:

Unenviable stuff this, young lady. Horrible.

IPHIGENEIA:

Yes, but it’s a service forced upon me and I must perform it.

ORESTES:

You, a woman? Will you use a sword on a man, yourself? Kill him and sacrifice him?

IPHIGENEIA:

No, I will only wet your hair with the purifying water.

ORESTES:

Am I allowed to know who will be my slayer?

IPHIGENEIA:

There are people inside the temple who take care of such things.

ORESTES:

And when I die, what sort of tomb will receive me?

IPHIGENEIA:

First you will be received by the sacred flame and then by the wide hollow of the rock.

ORESTES:

How I wish my sister could drape the funeral cape around my corpse!

IPHIGENEIA:

A futile hope, poor man, whoever you might be.

Your sister is far from this barbaric land.

But since you happened to be an Argive, I will perform for you as many of the things you ask for, as I can. I will pile a great many rich gifts upon your tomb, sprinkle golden oil upon your body to quell the fire and, over your pyre, I will pour the golden flower nectar gathered by the mountain bees.

But let me now go and bring you the letter and don’t think that I am responsible for all the things that you are about to suffer.

[Enter the guards from the temple]

You, guards, guard them but do not tie their hands.

[To herself]

Perhaps this letter will reach someone in Argos, to the dearest man I know. A hope beyond all hope! It will inform the man that the person he thought is dead, still lives. It will be news that he will delight in.

[Exit Iphigeneia into the temple]

CHORUS:

We mourn for you, stranger!

The purifying water will soon be sprinkled in your hair, claiming your blood!

Such things are not to mourn for, ladies but I bid you farewell.

But as for you, young man. Fate favours you. We rejoice with you, since you will soon step upon your own land.

PYLADES:

Rejoice? How can a man rejoice when he loses his friend?

CHORUS:

[To Pylades]

Ah! What a grim journey awaits you!

[To Orestes]

Ah! What a grim death awaits you!

Ah! Which of you has the grimmest Fate?

My mind is torn between you. For whom should my heart cry more?

ORESTES:

[An idea strikes him suddenly]

Great Heavens, Pylades! Are you thinking what I am thinking?

PYLADES:

I… I don’t know. What do you mean?

ORESTES:

Who is that young woman?

She knows so much about Greece! Her questions about our pains in Troy, about the return of the Achaeans, about Calchas the seer who examines birds, and about Achilles’ fame! And did you notice how hurt she was when she heard about poor Agamemnon and his wife… all those questions about his children!

I think this woman is from there. She’s an Argive by birth. A foreigner here, herself!

Why else would she send a letter there?

Her questions, too, Pylades. The way she asked them, in such detail, as if her fate depended upon that of Argos. If Argos goes well, she’s happy.

PYLADES:

You took the words right out of my mouth, Orestes but, still, everyone knows the story of those two suffering kings, at least, everyone who travels.

But there’s something else I just thought of. Something that’s bothering me.

ORESTES:

Yes? What is it? Tell me and we might be able to sort it out together.

PYLADES:

The shame, Orestes! The shame of me being alive after you’ve been killed! That shame would be unbearable for me.

We have sailed here together. Let us die together, or else, I can see quite clearly just how I will be received back, in Argos and in the valleys of the Phockians: a coward and a disgrace! Those with evil souls abound, Orestes. They will be saying that I have abandoned you here and sailed home safely, alone.

Worse still, they will say that I had taken advantage of the dire fortune your family is in and, being married to your sister, Elektra, who would inherit your fortune, plotted your murder so that I could steal the kingdom’s throne.

These thoughts worry me a great deal, Orestes.

I am worried and I feel ashamed.

Orestes, I will not be convinced otherwise: I should die with you, be sacrificed with you and have my corpse burned on the same pyre with you! We’ve been friends for a very long time.

I hate slanderous tongues!

ORESTES:

Talk sense, my friend!

My own misery is for me to endure. I can bear that one but I can’t bear another on top of it as well.

What you have just called shame and dishonour will also apply to me if I cause your death, the death of a close friend who has helped me with my troubles. In any case, since the gods have decided to deliver me such unbearable misfortune, leaving this earth wouldn’t be such a bad thing for me.

You, however, you are blessed with a pure family, one that is not cursed, or polluted, like mine. As well, if you escape this death and do marry Elektra, my sister, whom I offered you as a wife, you will have children with her and so my name will live on and so, my father’s house will not be left bereft of descendants and become extinct.

So, Pylades, save your life and go and look after my father’s kingdom!

But once you arrive in Greece, in horse-loving Argos, I ask you that you swear that you will do this for me: make a small tomb and put upon it my name and tell my sister to make offerings to that tomb: of her tears and of a lock of her hair.

Also, announce to the Argives that I was sacrificed by an Argive woman. Tell them it was an Argive woman who first sprinkled the purifying water on my head.

And one more thing I ask of you, Pylades: Don’t desert my sister when you see that her home, my home, too, has been abandoned and her family gone.

Now, farewell to you, the most loved of all my friends. As children, we played together and then, later, we went hunting together. You have shouldered much of the pain of my miserable life.

I was Apollo’s plaything. The god is a prophet but he’s also a liar. With lies and deceit, he dragged me as far away from Greece as it’s possible, so as to hide his shame over that old prophesy of his and I, I foolishly trusted his word and went and murdered my own mother, so now, poor wretch, now I too am about to die!

PYLADES:

My poor friend, you will have your tomb and I will never desert your sister. If it so happens that you will die, then I will love you even more.

Still, even though you are close to death, the god’s oracle has not yet been realized. You are still alive and it is possible, very possible that utter despair can bring about great changes.

[Enter Iphigeneia from the temple, carrying a letter]

ORESTES:

Enough, Pylades. Apollo’s words are of no help to me.

Here comes the woman from the temple.

IPHIGENEIA:

To the guards

Guards, go now inside and help those who take care of the sacrifice.

[The guards enter the temple through the side door]

[To Orestes and Pylades]

My friends, here’s my letter. It is written in many folds but I need to add yet one more thing. No man stays the same once he has escaped danger and finds himself on solid and safe ground.

That’s why my heart trembles at the thought that this man, who is about to go to Argos, once he has left this place and is far from here, will forget all about my letter.

ORESTES:

Well, then, what would you like us to do about that? What’s making you hesitate like this?

IPHIGENEIA:

I need him to swear to me that he will take this letter to Argos and hand it to the friends I want it delivered.

ORESTES:

What about you? Will you swear an oath in exchange?

IPHIGENEIA:

Swear an oath? What would you like me to do, or to avoid doing? Tell me.

ORESTES:

Swear that you will help him escape the barbarians alive.

IPHIGENEIA:

Quite right. How else will he be able to deliver the letter?

ORESTES:

But will the King agree to these things?

IPHIGENEIA:

Yes, I will convince him to do so. Then, I, personally will see him aboard his ship.

ORESTES:

To Pylades

Go ahead, my friend, swear the oath.

[To Iphigeneia]

Dictate to him the words of the most austere oath.

IPHIGENEIA:

You must say, “I will deliver this letter to your people.”

PYLADES:

I will deliver this letter to your people.

IPHIGENEIA:

And I will see you safely beyond the Black Rocks.

PYLADES:

Which of the gods do you invoke?

IPHIGENEIA:

Artemis. She it is I serve in this temple.

PYLADES:

And I invoke the Lord of the Heavens, almighty Zeus.

IPHIGENEIA:

What if you break your oath and betray me?

PYLADES:

Then may I never make it back to my country. What about you? What should happen to you if you don’t save me?

IPHIGENEIA:

May I never step foot on Argos alive.

PYLADES:

Now listen to something we have left out so far.

IPHIGENEIA:

There is always time to correct things.

PYLADES:

I will need you to allow me this exception in my oath: If something happens to my ship and along with other things, this letter is also lost but I manage to escape alive, then, in that case, the oath should not hold.

IPHIGENEIA:

Well, know this, then. One can escape many disasters if one is prepared, so what I’ll do is to tell you all that is written in that letter so that you can repeat them to my friends. That will secure its delivery.

If you save the letter, then it will speak for itself, if however it’s lost in the sea but you survive, then your own survival guarantees the survival of its message.

PYLADES:

Your ideas about the oath as well as about me are sound. Now tell me the person you want me to deliver this letter to in Argos and what else should I tell him.

IPHIGENEIA:

Tell Orestes, Agamemnon’s son this: “The girl Iphigeneia whom they slaughtered in Aulis and who they think is dead, is alive and says the following…

ORESTES:

What? Where is she? Has she died and come back from the dead?

IPHIGENEIA:

She is the one before you. Now don’t interrupt me. “Come, brother and take me back to Argos lest I die in a country of barbarians. Come and rescue me from the human sacrifices performed for the goddess during which I must sprinkle sacred water upon the heads of strangers…”

ORESTES:

Pylades, my friend, what can I say? Where are we?

IPHIGENEIA:

“… or else this shall become a curse upon your house, Orestes!”

Now let me repeat the name so that you won’t mistake it –

ORESTES:

O, gods!

IPHIGENEIA:

Why call upon the gods while I’m talking?

ORESTES:

Oh, nothing. Please continue. My mind went elsewhere for a minute.

[To Pylades]

Even if I ask no questions, I will hear incredible things.

IPHIGENEIA:

[Continues with the dictation of the letter]

Tell him also that Artemis saved me by replacing me with a stag, which my father slaughtered, thinking that his sword stabbed me. Then the goddess brought me here, in this land.

These are the things I want him to know. They’re in the letter as well.

PYLADES:

[Takes the letter for Iphigeneia]

Lady, you have bound me in easy oaths and because you have also sworn a great oath, yourself, I shall not waste any time in delivering your letter.

[To Orestes, handing him the letter]

Here you are, Orestes. This letter is from your sister, this lady here.

ORESTES:

[Takes the letter]

I accept this letter but I shall leave the written words for later so that I may enjoy this moment fully.

O, my beloved sister! I am stunned. These hands! These hands are yet to believe this but I will embrace you with them! Let me feel the full joy of these unbelievable words I’ve just heard!

CHORUS:

Stranger, stop! Don’t touch the sacred robes of the priestess! Do not pollute the servant of the goddess!

ORESTES:

My sister!

Child of Agamemnon, just like me! Don’t turn your head away from me. I am the brother you could never have hoped to see again.

IPHIGENEIA:

Me? Your sister?

Enough of this! My brother is famous throughout Argos, as well as Nauplia!

ORESTES:

My darling sister! Your brother is not in Argos now!

IPHIGENEIA:

Are you, like me, the child of the Spartan daughter of Tyndareus?

ORESTES:

Yes. I am the son of Pelops’ grandchild, of Agamemnon!

IPHIGENEIA:

But – the things you say!

Can you give me any proof at all?

ORESTES:

But of course! Ask me any questions you like about our family.

IPHIGENEIA:

No, you talk and I will listen.

ORESTES:

Well, let me begin by telling you all that I’ve heard from Elektra.

Have you heard of the great quarrel between Atreus and Thyestes?

IPHIGENEIA:

About the golden lamb? Yes, I’ve heard about it.

ORESTES:

And do you remember how you weaved all these stories on those fine cloths?

IPHIGENEIA:

O, my dear friend! How closely you approached my heart!

ORESTES:

And do you remember weaving the story about the sun and how he changes his path?

IPHIGENEIA:

Yes, I weaved that on a very fine piece of tapestry.

ORESTES:

And what about when mother bathed you in preparation of your marriage in Aulis?

IPHIGENEIA:

Yes, I remember that bath. The marriage itself has not brought enough good memories to overpower that one.

ORESTES:

Now then, what else? Ah! Do you remember when you had sent your mother a lock of your hair?

IPHIGENEIA:

Yes. I did that when I found out I was going to die in Aulis and I wouldn’t be going back to Argos to be buried. I sent it for my tomb; to be placed there instead of my body. In remembrance.

ORESTES:

And now, as further proof, let me tell you what I saw with my own eyes.

Sister, do you remember Pelops’ ancient spear, the one hidden in the girls’ quarters? The spear with which he won as his bride, the virgin Hippodamia from Pisa by killing her father, Oenomaus?

IPHIGENEIA:

[Rushes to embrace him]

My dear brother! The dearest man in my life!

You have sailed here, so far from your land, Argos!

Let me hold you!

ORESTES:

And let me hold you, too, my dear sister. You, who people say are dead!

Tears stream down my face! I grieve and I rejoice, just like you!

IPHIGENEIA:

Oh! You were a tiny baby, a tiny, tiny baby when I left you in the arms of your nurse.

The tiniest little being in the palace!

Oh! My heart! You are more joyful than words can express!

What can my lips say?

All this was beyond hope. Beyond miracles, beyond words!

ORESTES:

May this joy of ours be everlasting!

IPHIGENEIA:

[To the Chorus]

O, what an unbelievable joy I’ve just received, my dear friends!

Now, I’m afraid that he will suddenly take wings and escape from my hands to fly to Heaven!

[To Orestes]

O, hearth of my home! A home built by the Cyclopes!

My dear home, Mycenae!

I owe you thanks for giving life to this man. For raising him, for resurrecting him!

This man, my brother, the saving light of my house.

ORESTES:

Fate has given us a great family, my sister, but a life full of misery.

IPHIGENEIA:

And I, poor creature, know it well! I felt that dreadful misery when our father, with a dark heart, put a sword to my throat.

ORESTES:

I wasn’t there then, my sister but it’s as if I am there now.

IPHIGENEIA:

No wedding song accompanied me to Achilles’ wedding bed, my brother! That wedding has never happened and by my altar were only tears and groans of pain!

Ah! Those horrible purifying waters!

ORESTES:

I, too cried bitter tears when I found out that our father had the heart to do such a thing.

IPHIGENEIA:

My fate had declared that I’d be an orphan and from then on, one disaster followed another, as if some god pursued us.

ORESTES:

Imagine, Iphigeneia! You could have sacrificed your own brother!

IPHIGENEIA:

Ah, my brother!

What a dreadful, dreadful thing I was about to do! Shocking! Horrible!

Your own sister almost slaughtered you!

You were saved only by a short moment!

But now? What will we do now? How will all this end?

O, what Fate will come to help me here?

How can I send you away from here, far away from this land of death, to Argos, our country?

How can I do this before the sword spills your blood?

[To herself]

Come, my heart! Come, this is your task. It is up to you to find a way.

[To Orestes]

Should I send you off by ship through the sea or by foot, over land?

No, by land you’ll be in grave danger from all the barbarian tribes and the unknown roads. But then again, by ship, the path through the Clashing Rocks is narrow and the journey long.

Ah, poor heart! Poor soul!

What god, what mortal or what anything between the two will come to show us the way out of this dreadful, impassable dilemma? Who’ll release us from these horrors? Us two, the remnants of the house of Atreus?

CHORUS:

Now I have seen a wonder beyond words!

I will be telling this story as one who has seen it with his own eyes and not heard about it with his ears!

PYLADES:

Orestes, it’s human nature for people who love each other and meet after a long time to embrace but, my friend, we should now control all this emotion and think of how we can see our way out of this barbarian land. We need to find a way to save ourselves and see the brilliant face of escape!

Let’s act wisely. Let’s not miss the opportunity to escape by getting distracted by other joys from the path that Fate has shown us.

ORESTES:

Sound advice, my friend. Fortune, I believe, is on our side in this because the gods give aid more readily to those willing to act.

IPHIGENEIA:

Let no one stop me nor distract me from what I want to find out now.

The question about Elektra concerns me deeply. How is life treating her?

I love you two more than anything else in my life.

ORESTES:

Elektra is married to this man and is enjoying a happy life.

IPHIGENEIA:

But… where does he come from? Who is his father?

ORESTES:

Strophius, the Phockian.

IPHIGENEIA:

Then, is not also Anaxibia’s son, Atreus’ grandson, a relative of ours?

ORESTES:

Yes, Iphigeneia, he is our cousin, and my most trusted friend.

IPHIGENEIA:

He had not been born yet when my father sacrificed me.

ORESTES:

That’s right, Strophius didn’t have any children until later.

IPHIGENEIA:

Greetings, dear husband of my sister.

ORESTES:

And not only a relative but my saviour, as well!

IPHIGENEIA:

But, my brother, how could you do such a horrible thing to our mother?

ORESTES:

Let’s not talk about that. I did it to avenge our father’s death.

IPHIGENEIA:

But why did she kill our father?

ORESTES:

Don’t think about your mother’s deeds. It will do you no good hearing about them.

IPHIGENEIA:

All right. I’ll be silent about it. Now, do the people of Argos think of you as their ruler?

ORESTES:

The ruler is Menelaos, our uncle. I am in exile.

IPHIGENEIA:

But I can’t believe that our uncle would usurp an ailing palace by sending you into exile!

ORESTES:

No, it wasn’t him.

No, it was my fear for the Furies that has turned me into an exile.

IPHIGENEIA:

I understand. The goddesses drove you away because of what you did to our mother.

ORESTES:

That’s right. They had forced their blood-dripping bridle into my mouth.

IPHIGENEIA:

So that is the frenzied fit the guards were talking about. That’s what you went through down at the shore.

ORESTES:

This was not the first time people saw me in this miserable condition.

IPHIGENEIA:

But what made you come here, in the first place?

ORESTES:

Apollo’s orders brought me here.

IPHIGENEIA:

Orders? What sort of orders? Can they be uttered aloud or must we be silent about them?

ORESTES:

I will tell you. That’s where all my troubles began.

When mother’s unutterable story had ended with my hands in blood, the Furies pursued me everywhere. I rushed here and there, in utter frenzy, until Apollo sent me to Athens where I was tried in a court overseen by these goddesses who have no name.

Zeus had a court established there, due to a murder committed by Ares and the need to have the pollution removed from his hands. When I first got to Athens I could find no host willing to help me. Everyone was afraid thinking that I was cursed by the gods. Eventually though, out of pity, some people softened their hearts and offered me a roof but, even though I was in the same house with them, I had to eat at a separate table and they’d never respond to my words.

Each one of them had his own separate jug and drank his wine but I had nothing.

Still, I didn’t argue with them. I simply suffered my pains silently, pretending not to notice anything. I sighed deeply with the regret of killing my own mother.

Now I’ve discovered that my pains have become a customary ritual in Athens. It’s called “The celebration of the jugs” and they hold it during the Flower Festival.

At my trial on the hill of Ares, I was made to stand on one platform and the eldest of the Furies stood on another platform and she accused me of murdering my mother. But then Apollo gave evidence and that evidence saved me. Then the goddess Athena raised her hand and counted the votes. These came to an equal number of guilty and innocent which meant I won and so I got up and left the murder trial.

Those of the Furies who accepted the trial’s outcome, were allowed to mark out a spot for their temple, there, near the court itself.

The others, though, the ones who didn’t accept the court’s decision, continued to chase me relentlessly until, once again I came to the sacred grounds of Apollo.

I lay flat onto the ground, in front of his temple and, ate nothing, and I swore to Apollo there and then that unless he saved my life, the life he had destroyed, I would end it at that very moment!

Apollo answered me then by making a speech from his golden tripod. He told me to come here, take the statue that has fallen from the sky and set it up in Athens.

So, Iphigeneia, I need you to help me save myself, as Apollo has ordered.

If we take this statue of the goddess, I will be rid of these fits of madness and also take you with me on my ship with its many oars and bring you once again to Mycenae where you can settle down.

Come, my dearest sister, my loving sister, save your father’s house and save me!

Unless I get that statue of the goddess I will be destroyed and with me the house of Pelops.

CHORUS:

A huge and dreadful anger from the gods has scorched the seed of Tantalus and drags his family through misery!

IPHIGENEIA:

I have always longed to return to Argos and see you again, my brother. Even before you arrived here. Now I want what you want: to help you escape your pains and to raise, once again, our ailing house. I hold no anger at the man who has killed me.

I want these things and it is possible to achieve them.

If I rescue you, then my hands will not be polluted by the shedding of your blood and, at the same time, I will have also rescued our house.

But I am afraid, Orestes. Afraid that the goddess and the king will discover that the statue is missing from its pedestal. They will kill me then. There will be no escaping that. What excuse could I give them?

But, if both of these things happen at the same time, if you take me, as well as the statue with you to your great ship, this adventure will come to a good end.

Otherwise, you might be able to end your troubles and get home all right but I will certainly be murdered. Still, I will not hesitate to save your life even if it means I will lose mine.

A house suffers much more by the loss of a male than by that of a female.

ORESTES:

Iphigeneia, I will not become the murderer of both, our mother and of you. The spilling of mother’s blood is enough. We both have a single aim and we will share it equally, in life as well as in death.

Either I will take you home with me when I manage to escape or I will stay here and die with you.

But listen to what I just thought: Why would Apollo ask me to take the statue back to Athens if that was against Artemis’ will? And why would he want to send me here to see you but then be sacrificed by you?

None of this makes sense to me, so I’m now convinced that we will make it safely home.

IPHIGENEIA:

Well then, how will we achieve our goal and escape death?

That’s where we stumble upon in this matter. We certainly don’t lack the will.

ORESTES:

Can we kill the king?

IPHIGENEIA:

Us? Foreigners kill the local king? An impossible thought!

ORESTES:

Still, if it means our escape, it’ll be worth the effort.

IPHIGENEIA:

I admire your courage, brother but I could do no such thing.

ORESTES:

What if you hid me in this temple?

IPHIGENEIA:

Do you think our escape can be better achieved in the dark?

ORESTES:

Yes, sister. Thieves need the dark. Honest folk need the light.

IPHIGENEIA:

The temple’s guards are in there. They will notice us.

ORESTES:

Damn! So we are lost then! How can we possibly escape?

IPHIGENEIA:

I think I’ve just come up with an idea!

ORESTES:

What sort of an idea? Tell me.

IPHIGENEIA:

I will turn your woes into a clever trick.

ORESTES:

Women are unbeatable when it comes to clever tricks!

IPHIGENEIA:

I will tell them that you have come here, from Argos, after you have murdered of your mother…

ORESTES:

Yes, yes, use my woes if they will help.

IPHIGENEIA:

…and then I will tell them that it is against the sacred laws to sacrifice a murderer…

ORESTES:

But why? What reason will you give against sacrificing me? Though I think I know.

IPHIGENEIA:

A murderer is impure, unclean. I can only sacrifice pure victims.

ORESTES:

And how will this help with the stealing of the statue?

IPHIGENEIA:

I shall ask for permission to purify you first. With sea water.

ORESTES:

But the statue is still in the temple.

IPHIGENEIA:

I will tell them that you’ve touched it and so I’ll need to wash that, too.

ORESTES:

Where will we go? To which part of the shore?

IPHIGENEIA:

We’ll go to where your ship is anchored with the flaxen ropes.

ORESTES:

Are you going to carry the statue in your arms or will someone else do it?

IPHIGENEIA:

I will carry it myself. No one else is allowed to touch it.

ORESTES:

But how will you bring Pylades into this?

IPHIGENEIA:

I will tell them he too, is polluted and for the same reason as you.

ORESTES:

Will you let the king know what you’re doing?

IPHIGENEIA:

I will talk with him. Inform him and convince him. This cannot be done without his knowledge, so you two take care that all else goes smoothly.

ORESTES:

In that case, my ship with its well-built oars, is ready for us…

There is just one more thing, though. You must make sure these women keep our plan a secret. Talk to them, convince them of that. You’re a woman and women can touch hearts. After that, all the rest might go well for us.

IPHIGENEIA:

[To the chorus]

My dear friends, I turn my eyes towards you.

My hopes and my Fate rest with you. Whether I succeed in this effort or I die by it; whether or not I lose my country, my beloved brother and my beloved sister, it all rests with you.

Let the first words of my plea be these:

We, women, are wise, we support and trust each other and we defend our common interests with all our might. Keep these events a secret and help us with our escape.

A disciplined tongue is a noble thing.

You see before you three close friends united with one Fate: Either to return home or to die. If I succeed, then I will make sure you get your share of my luck. You, too will return home, back to Greece.

So, my dear friends, I beg you. I swear by your right hand –

And yours, and yours, too!

And by your sweet cheeks!

By your knees!

By whatever you hold dear, back home: a mother, a father, children, those of you who have them.

What do you all say, then? Speak! Who among you says, yes, who says, no?

If you do not agree with us then I am lost. As well as my poor brother.

CHORUS:

Courage my Lady! Think only about saving yourself. As Zeus is my witness, we will stay silent.

IPHIGENEIA:

For your good words, dear friends, I wish you all the best and may you always have joy in your life.

[Turning to Pylades and Orestes]

You two must now go into the temple.

Soon the country’s king will come to see if the sacrifices have been performed.

[The two men obey while she prays to Artemis. They enter through the main door]

O, reverent goddess! In the meadows of Aulis you have saved my life from my father’s murderous hand.

Now I beg you to also save the lives of these two men, or else it will be your fault that the mortals will no longer trust Apollo’s prophesies.

So, then, I ask you kindly to leave this land of the barbarians and go to Athens. It is not proper for you to have your temple here when you could have it built in a city blessed by the gods.

[Exit Iphigeneia into the temple]

CHORUS:

O, Halcyon, my sad bird!

You sing a moving melody by the crags of the shore,

A melody of your black fate.

A voice easy to understand for those who know your grief,

The grief you endure for the loss of your lover.

I, alone, a bird with no wings, can match your grief and your sad melody.

I long for the Greek festivals!

I long for Artemis, protector of birth, who dwells on the hill of Kythos!

I long for Kythos, where the date trees with their gentle tresses grow!

And where the lush laurel, the sacred child of the green olive, sweet companions of Leto during the hour of her birth flourish.

I long for the lake whose waters swirl gently and where a melodious swan waits upon the muses.

And I remember the tears! The rivers of tears that drenched my cheeks when the towers of my city were taken and I was brought here on a ship with oars and spears!

Gold changed hands for me and I was brought to this barbaric land to serve Agamemnon’s daughter, the priestess of Artemis, the deer-slaying goddess.

And to care for the altars upon which no sheep is ever sacrificed.

I envy the man who’s never tasted good fortune! He can endure misery if he’s had it as a constant companion throughout his life but changes in fortune beget despair.

A ship with fifty oars, my reverent lady, will take you back home to Argos!

Pan’s pipe of reeds, bound by wax, will give the rhythm to the ship’s oars. Pan, the god of the mountains.

And Apollo, with his loud lyre, his lyre of seven strings will sing along and guide the ship into the safety of glittering Athens. Apollo, the god of prophesy.

And the oars of the sea-cutting ship will turn wave into white foam and the sail cloth will spread across the wind, over the bows and onto the peak of the prow.

But you will abandon me here, my lady!

How I wish I could fly!

Follow the paths of the Heavens above where the sun spreads his sweet light…

Where he urges the fleetfooted steeds of his chariot.

Then, by beating the wings on my back, I could go and stop above our own home.

If I could only stop high above the place where the chorus dances…

…there where, as a young girl, worthy of a handsome groom, I would dance with my girlfriends, all of the same age, my mother swelling with pride nearby.

And whenever I got up to compete in beauty, in luxury, in the softness of hair, I’d hide my cheeks with my plaits and with my fine veil.

[Enter King Thoas with attendants]

THOAS:

Where is the Greek priestess of this temple?

Has she performed the purifications for the sacrifice of the strangers yet?

Has the holy fire in the inner chamber consumed their body yet?

[Enter Iphigeneia carrying the statue of Artemis]

CHORUS:

Here she is, my king. She can answer all your questions herself.

THOAS:

Iphigeneia, daughter of Agamemnon, what on earth are you doing? Why are you carrying the statue of the goddess in your arms? Why did you remove it from its sacred spot?

IPHIGENEIA:

Stop where you are, my Lord. Don’t step too close to the temple!

THOAS:

Why, Iphigeneia? What’s happened in the temple?

IPHIGENEIA:

[She spits as if to avert evil spirits]

There, I spat to satisfy the holy orders.

THOAS:

Iphigeneia, you are preparing me for something nasty. Tell me clearly, what is it?

IPHIGENEIA:

King Thoas, the victims you’ve brought to me were unclean.

THOAS:

Is that something you, yourself understood or did someone who knows about such matters told you so?

IPHIGENEIA:

The statue of the goddess had turned its back to us.

THOAS:

What? Of its own accord or did some earthquake move it?

IPHIGENEIA:

Of its own accord… and it also shut its eyes.

THOAS:

But why? Was it the fact that the victims were unclean?

IPHIGENEIA:

Yes, that’s it absolutely. They have committed unspeakable evil.

THOAS:

Have they killed one of our barbarians in the beach? Is that it?

IPHIGENEIA:

They have arrived here after having spilled the blood of their own folk.

THOAS:

Is that so? Tell me about it! Whose blood is it they spilled?

IPHIGENEIA:

They’ve conspired and then, with their own swords killed their mother.

THOAS:

O, dear Apollo! This is something that even we barbarians would never do!

IPHIGENEIA:

They’ve been exiled from the whole of Greece.

THOAS:

So, is this why you’re taking the statue outside?

IPHIGENEIA:

I’m taking it outside beneath the pure sky so as to reverse the pollution caused by the unholy murder.

THOAS:

How did you learn about the murder that the foreigners had committed?

IPHIGENEIA:

When the statue turned I questioned them.

THOAS:

Greece has raised you well, Iphigeneia. You are indeed a wise woman! You’ve done well!

IPHIGENEIA:

They’ve thrown a sweet lure into my heart.

THOAS:

Did they give you some good news from your people in Argos?

IPHIGENEIA:

Yes, in fact they’ve told me that my only brother, Orestes, is doing well.

THOAS:

No doubt they’ve told you that to make you happy so you could spare their lives.

IPHIGENEIA:

They’ve also told me that my father is alive and is also doing well.

THOAS:

But you, of course, followed the will of the goddess.

IPHIGENEIA:

Yes. Hellas has destroyed me. I hate that country.

THOAS:

Well, then, Iphigeneia, what are we to do about the foreigners?

IPHIGENEIA:

What we must do is to pay due respect to our own customs.

THOAS:

Well then, where are your sword and your purifying water?

IPHIGENEIA:

No, first I must wash them and purify them in clear water.

THOAS:

You mean pure water from a spring, or from the sea?

IPHIGENEIA:

The sea. It washes all mortal evil.

THOAS:

Yes, that way the goddess will enjoy the sacrifice all the more.

IPHIGENEIA:

For me, too, it will be better.

THOAS:

But the waves wash right up against the temple. Will not that do?

IPHIGENEIA:

No. I need a deserted place. I need to do other things as well.

THOAS:

Go ahead. Go where you need to go. I’d hate to witness secret mysteries.

IPHIGENEIA:

I need to also purify the statue of the goddess.

THOAS:

Of course, if it’s been defiled by the hand of murderers…

IPHIGENEIA:

I wouldn’t have taken it down from its pedestal if it hadn’t.

THOAS:

Your piety and thoughtfulness, Iphigeneia, is most honourable and that’s why the whole city admires you.

IPHIGENEIA:

Well then, listen to what I need done.

THOAS:

Just name it.

IPHIGENEIA:

Firstly, tie up the strangers.

THOAS:

But where could they possibly go to escape your hand?

IPHIGENEIA:

Consider no Greek trustworthy!

THOAS:

[To his attendants]

Servants, go and tie the strangers up!

IPHIGENEIA:

Then bring them here.

THOAS:

It shall be done.

IPHIGENEIA:

Cover their heads with capes.

THOAS:

You mean, so that they won’t pollute the air and the sun’s rays?

IPHIGENEIA:

Yes, and my lord, send some of your servants with me.

THOAS:

These men will follow you.

IPHIGENEIA:

And send someone to the city to tell them that…

THOAS:

Tell them what, Iphigeneia?

IPHIGENEIA:

Tell everyone to stay indoors.

THOAS:

You means, so as not to meet with the tainted murderers?

IPHIGENEIA:

Yes, because the tainted must be avoided.

THOAS:

To an attendant

You! Go and make that announcement through the city.

[Exit attendant]

IPHIGENEIA:

Tell them that no one should come out to see us.

THOAS:

You care so well for our city, Iphigeneia!

IPHIGENEIA:

For the city and for all of the people I love the most.

THOAS:

You mean me?

IPHIGENEIA:

But you stay here, by the temple of the goddess.

THOAS:

And do what?

IPHIGENEIA:

Make the temple pure with the torch.

THOAS:

And have it ready for you when you come back?

IPHIGENEIA:

When the foreigners come out…

THOAS:

What do I have to do then?

IPHIGENEIA:

You must cover your eyes with your cape.

THOAS:

Cover them so that I won’t see the tainted men.

IPHIGENEIA:

But if it looks like I’m late coming back…

THOAS:

How will I know that?

IPHIGENEIA:

… don’t be too surprised.

THOAS:

By all means, take your time and perform well everything the goddess needs.

IPHIGENEIA:

May this purification be accomplished as I wish it.

THOAS:

Indeed!

[From the Temple enter Orestes and Pylades, their heads covered and pushed along by guards]

[Other attendants follow bringing young lambs for sacrifice, torches, ropes and other sacrificial implements and utensils]

[Thoas steps back and hides his face]

IPHIGENEIA:

Ah! Here they are! The foreigners have come out of the temple and I can see the servants, carrying the goddess’ adornments.

And the newborn lambs are here. I shall wash away the taint of the blood committed by the murder with their blood.

Ah, and the torches, too and everything else I’ve asked for; everything I need in order to perform the purification of the foreigners and of the statue of our goddess. Let all the citizens of Tauris stay away from this impurity!

Whether you are a guardian of the temple, keeping your hands pure for the gods, or if you are betrothed, or yet if you are a woman weighed down with pregnancy, I say, run away now! All of you!

Run away, lest the pollution fall upon you!

[Praying]

Daughter of Zeus and Leto, virgin goddess!

Let me wash away the impurity of the murder done by these two men!

Let me perform the sacrifice there where it is proper!

Then you will dwell in a pure temple and we, too, will enjoy good fortune.

I will not utter my other thoughts, reverent goddess but you and the other gods, who are wise, will read them.

[Exit Iphigeneia, Orestes, Pylades and the attendants, SR]

[Thoas goes into the temple]

CHORUS:

On the fertile plains of Delos, Leto gave birth to two great children: Apollo with the golden tresses and with his skill with the lyre, and proud Artemis, who delighted in her unerring bow and arrows.

Leto wasted no time to leave her birthing place, there on the cliff by the sea, and brought her son to the peak of Parnassus with its rushing brooks and its frenzied celebrations of Dionysus.

There, in the shade of the broad-leafed laurel, lay a monstrous snake with gleaming dark skin, with eyes the colour of wine and with scales of every colour, guarding Earth’s ancient temple.

And though you were still a baby, Apollo and though you were still bouncing about in your mother’s lap, you still managed to kill that monster and become the new keeper of the sacred temple.

And so, your throne now is the golden tripod, a throne that knows no lies! From the depths of the sacred sanctuary, you send the prophetic words of the gods to all the mortals.

You are the neighbour to the Castalian waters.

Your temple is the centre of the earth.

But then, when Apollo had driven Earth’s daughter, Themis, away from of this most sacred Pythian throne, at Delphi, Earth brought forth ghostly dreams that came out in the dark night.

Dreams that revealed to many mortals in their sleep things that have happened and things that Fate decreed would happen.

And so it was that Earth, angered on behalf of her daughter, took away Apollo’s prophetic honours.

And so it was that Lord Apollo sped away on his quick feet to Olympus to wrap his young arms around Zeus’ throne and beg him to restore his Pythian temple to him, take it back from the anger of the goddess Earth.

Zeus laughed when he saw how his young child had already wanted to rule the realm of worship and of its endless stream of gold. With a shake of his long locks, Zeus put an end to all the ghostly dreams and tore out the shadowy faith the mortals had in them.

Apollo was given back the office of prophecy and the people thronged around his throne, with their faith in his oracles restored.

[Enter Messenger SL]

[He is heavily bruised about the face, bleeding from small wounds about his arms and legs and his clothes are torn. He ignores the chorus and rushes up to the door of the temple which he pounds hard with his fists]

MESSENGER:

Guards! Guards of the temple! Attendants of the altar! Open these locked doors!

Where can I find King Thoas? Tell the king to come out!

CHORUS:

If I may speak without being spoken to, may I ask what is wrong?

MESSENGER:

Those two young men! They’ve escaped! Helped by Agamemnon’s daughter!

They’ve left the country and they took with them the holy statue of our goddess.

They’ve taken it down into the hold of their ship!

CHORUS:

Incredible!

Incredible!

But, if you’re after the king –

He’s gone. He’s not here!

He left the temple in some hurry.

MESSENGER:

Gone? Gone where? I must find him and tell him what’s happened.

CHORUS:

I don’t know where he’s gone!

Go and look for him!

Go! Find him and tell him the news!

MESSENGER:

[Suspects a plot]

Ha! I can see just how treacherous women are!

You lot! You too, are in on this conspiracy!

CHORUS:

You must be mad!

How could we possibly be involved in the escape of those strangers?

Why don’t you run over to the Palace?

Run! As fast as you can!

MESSENGER:

[He takes hold of the big door knocker and bangs it violently]

Not until this door knocker responds]

[Bangs hard at the door even more violently]

Ey, you, inside this temple! I’m calling you!

Undo the bars of this door and open it now!

Call out the king! I’m just outside the door and I’m carrying a huge load of dreadful news!

THOAS:

[Within]

Who’s making all this awful noise here, banging at the door like this? This is the temple of the goddess!

[The door opens and Thoas and his retinue come out]

MESSENGER:

Ah! My lord, you’re in there!

Proof that these women just lied to me. They told me you had left and they wanted me to go away as well.

THOAS:

Why would they say that? What could they gain by telling you a lie like that?

MESSENGER:

My lord, I’ll talk to you about them later but first you must hear what urgent matters concern you. Iphigeneia, my lord, the young woman who presides over these altars, has left the country! She has left with those young men carrying the statue of our goddess in her arms. All this talk about purification was a trick!

THOAS:

What are you saying, man? What wind blew her in that direction?

MESSENGER:

It will shock you to know this my lord: She wanted to save Orestes!

THOAS:

Orestes? Tyndareus’ grandson?

MESSENGER:

The very man. The man our goddess wanted to sacrifice upon these very altars!

THOAS:

That’s awful! There’s no other word for it, is there?

MESSENGER:

Don’t get distracted by such things now, my lord.

Listen to me carefully and then figure out a way of catching these foreigners.

THOAS:

Quite right, yes, go on, then. They have a long journey ahead of them if they are to escape.

My army won’t let them do that.

MESSENGER:

When we, the guards you’ve sent with the ropes for the foreigners, got to the seashore, near where Orestes had hidden his ship, Iphigeneia, with a silent motion, ordered us to stand quite a distance back.

She said she was about to light the sacred flame for the sacrifice and for the sacred purification ceremony. She took the ropes herself and walked behind the strangers, something which looked suspicious to us, my lord but then again we, your servants, did not want to disobey your orders either, so we stayed behind.

Anyhow, after a while, to make us think that she was actually performing the rites, she gave out a loud scream and began singing barbarian religious hymns, as if she was a priestess in the process of purifying tainted blood.

Then, after we sat quietly there for quite a while, we began to suspect that perhaps the strangers had managed to escape from their shackles, perhaps they had killed the girl and then perhaps they ran away but, we were still afraid of seeing anything that might be forbidden so we did nothing. Just sat there silently until, finally we all decided to go where they were, in spite of the fact that we were forbidden to do so.

Suddenly we saw before us a Greek ship, ready to sail off, its oars raised up at the tholepins and worked hard by fifty sailors. Those oars, my lord, looked like giant wings!

The two young men who had escaped were now standing, free of any bonds, near the stern of the ship.

Some of the sailors were holding steady the prow with poles, while others were securing the anchor onto the bulwarks. Some others were rushing about trying to lower a ladder into the sea, to help the foreign girl climb aboard.

At the sight of this treachery, we all lost our fears about the holy rituals and rushed down at them. We grabbed the girl, seized the hawsers and began to dismantle all the steering oars from the handsome craft.

Then we started shouting at them: “What gives you the right to come here and steal our statues and our priestesses? Who are you? Whose son are you that would give you the right to steal this woman away from us?”

To this the man answered, “You better know this: I am her brother, Orestes, Agamemnon’s son and now I am taking my long-lost sister back home.”

But still, we held firm onto the girl, trying to force her to come back with us, back to you, my lord.

That’s how I got these bruises on my face. Neither we not they had any swords so we fought with our fists. The two young strangers beat us hard with their fists and kicked us about our bodies, our ribs, our kidneys – they beat us hard, my lord, until our bodies became paralyzed with pain.

We all ran away to the cliffs, some of us bleeding from the head and others from the eyes. From up there, we fought them much more cautiously, by throwing stones at them but then archers on the ship made us retreat even further back.

Then, suddenly, a huge wave washed the ship further on to the beach and the woman was too afraid to step into the water. Orestes then came down to her, lifted her onto his left shoulder and walked into the water himself, all the way to the ladder, climbed it and placed upon the handsome ship’s deck both, his sister as well as the statue that fell from the sky, the statue of Zeus’ daughter, Artemis.

Then we heard a voice calling out aboard the ship:

“Sailors of Greece! Take up your oars and turn the sea’s waves into white froth! We have it all now. Everything we came for, everything we were looking for when we sailed our way through the Clashing Rocks and into these hostile waters!”

At that, the men let out a huge roar of relief and hit the salty waters with their oars.

And while the ship was inside the harbour it sailed well, towards the wide open ocean but the moment it got outside the harbour, a huge tempest crashed upon it, shaking it about. Then a sudden wind rose up and pushed the sails back against the stern. The men battled furiously against the wave but the tempest brought the ship back onto the shore.

At this, Iphigeneia stood up and began praying:

“Oh Leto’s daughter! Goddess!

I am your priestess. Forgive my theft and please take me away from this barbarian land and bring me safely back to Hellas! You, too have a brother whom you love, so you must know that I also love mine!”

In answer to Iphigeneia’s prayers, all the men sang a hymn to Apollo and then bared their arms and at the command of the boatswain beat the water in perfect rhythm. Still, the ship came further and further back, towards us, onto the rocks.

Seeing this, one of our men jumped into the water and another tried to get a hawser looped onto the ship. I was told to rush back here and tell you, my lord, what is happening down there.

So, come on, take shackles and ropes and go down there. If the tempest doesn’t subside the Greeks will have no hope of saving their lives!

The lord of the sea, the revered Poseidon himself will help you. He watches over Troy and hates all of Pelops’ descendants so he’ll make sure that Agamemnon’s son and daughter will fall into your hands. Iphigeneia has obviously forgotten how Artemis had saved her life from the sacrifice at Aulis and she has now betrayed her.

CHORUS:

How unfortunate you are, Iphigeneia!

You and your brother will be destroyed if you fall into the hands of your masters!

THOAS:

[To the audience]

Come! All you citizens of this barbarian land! All of you!

Go quickly, harness your horses and gallop down to the shore! Go and pick up the wreckage of the Greek ship!

Go! Let the goddess help you hunt down and capture those impious strangers!

Some of you drag down to the sea some swift ships. We’ll surround them by sea and by land, catch them and hurl them down the rocky cliffs. Impale their bodies on stakes.

[To the chorus]

As for you! You were part of this conspiracy!

I will address the matter of your punishment later. I cannot stop now because I have more pressing business to attend to.

[He begins to leave but the goddess Athena stops him as she comes onto the stage by a deus ex machina]

ATHENA:

Such haste, King Thoas! Where are you off too in such a rush?

Listen to the words of the goddess Athena:

Stop this hunt! Stop this invasion of your army!

Orestes has come here under Apollo’s prophetic instructions, so as to escape the wrath of the Furies and to take back to Argos his sister and to bring the holy statue to my own home and thus bring some relief from the dreadful misery he’s been suffering.

And let me add these words to you:

You think you will capture and kill Orestes with the help of the tempest but Poseidon has already answered my call and has calmed the sea’s waters so that Orestes’ ship might sail through.

And to you, now Orestes:

Hear me Orestes and hear my commands. You might be far from here but you can hear well the voice of a goddess.

Take the homeward path with your sister and with the statue.

When you reach Athens, the city built by gods, look for a place near its border with Attica, next to the cliff of Karystus, a sacred place which my people call Halae.

You must build a temple there and inside that temple you must place the god-sent statue. You must name this temple the Taurian Temple and it will stand as a reminder of this land and of the troubles you have suffered, being pursued all over Greece by the Furies. In that temple, mortals will go to sing hymns in honour of the goddess Artemis from Tauris.

And you must establish this custom:

At the time of the feast, let the priest hold a sword at the neck of a man and draw blood. This will atone for your sacrifice, the rites of piety will be done and, as well, the goddess will receive her due honour.

As for you, Iphigeneia:

You must serve this goddess as her temple warden in the sacred valleys of Brauron. There, you will be buried when you die and people will, in your honour, place upon your tomb the finely woven garments that women who have died at childbirth leave behind.

[Turning to the chorus]

And now, about these Greek women:

Their hearts are pure and so I order that they be escorted from this country and on to theirs.

As well, since I have saved Orestes in the court on the Hill of Ares by bringing the vote to a tie, I want the following to be the custom here, also: He who receives an equal number of votes, wins his case at court.

And now, Orestes, son of Agamemnon, take your sister, Iphigeneia with you and leave this land.

You, Thoas, end your anger!

THOAS:

My Lady, Athena! Only a fool would hear the words of a god and not obey them!

I have no anger for Orestes, nor for his sister who left here with the statue. How can a mortal come to a good end by going against the will of the almighty gods?

No, let them go to your land with the statue of the goddess and may they be established there with all happiness.

As for these women, here, I will do as you have commanded me. I will send them back to their blessed land, Greece.

I shall withdraw all the preparations I’ve made against the foreigners; stop the spears and the oars from attacking them, since this is your will.

ATHENA:

I commend you for your wisdom!

Both gods and mortals must obey Necessity.

Winds! Blow hard now and take Agamemnon’s son to Athens. I will go with him to make sure that my sister’s holy statue is safe.

[To the chorus]

Blessed people, go and find your happiness! You will arrive home safely!

[Exit Athena]

CHORUS:

Reverend goddess Athena!

Revered by gods and mortals alike, we will obey your words.

Sweet and unexpected are the words that have reached our ears!

O great and reverend lady, Victory!

Always be my guide!

And never cease to crown my head with garlands!

Exit all

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Version 1  April 2017