The Songs of the Kings

At this moment, Menelaus and Diomedes entered the tent and for once Odysseus was glad to see them: they would swell the numbers for the scene he had in mind. 'I think we are ready for the girl now,' he said. 'Has she been brought?'

'She's waiting outside, under guard,' Menelaus said. 'We passed her as we came in. Nice bit of stuff.'

'Let's have her brought in. I think you'd better leave things to Chasimenos and me, we are used to working together by this time. You others just maintain a sort of imposing silence and keep staring down at her. That will be enough to impress the gravity of the situation upon her, I should think. Iphigeneia is fond of her, that much we have seen. But after all, she's just a little servant, used to scuttling about in the corridors of the women's quarters. She won't have had much experience of being alone among men. Ah, there you are, my dear. Come forward, you are among friends here, don't be afraid.'

Sisipyla, left near the entrance by the guard, advanced on her own, taking short, shuffling steps, keeping her arms pressed to her sides, her head inclined forward and her eyes on the ground before her. It was the slave gait, not used when she was alone with Iphigeneia, but adopted whenever she was attending the princess in company. From the moment of the summons – which she had half expected – she had given careful thought to how she should bear herself during this interview. When she was close to the group of men she crouched forward in a reverence, hands on knees.

'This is Sisipyla,' Odysseus said. 'You are a pretty girl and you have a pretty name. Did you have it from your parents?'

Sisipyla glanced up for the first time at the faces of the tall, bearded men that stood close round her, and she was six years old again and lost and looking at a face closely resembling her own, and a childish voice was asking her questions, stammering on the syllables of her new name, and the bearded mouths were laughing, but these now were not. This time she would get the answers right. 'The name was given me by my mistress,' she said. 'The lady Iphigeneia gave me my name. I do not remember the name my parents gave me.' This was a lie; but a lie told deliberately, one beyond detection, was good at the outset, it steeled her, it separated her from the purposes of these men, whose purposes she must seem to serve.

'You are devoted to your mistress, aren't you?' Chasimenos said. 'You want to serve her best interests, don't you? I suppose you still hope her life can be saved?'

'Yes, Lord.'

'It is not possible to save her life,' Odysseus said. 'We have brought you here so you can understand that. Within two days, at the outside, the thing must be done. There are a thousand men out there, waiting to see the will of the gods fulfilled so they can set sail for Troy under clear skies, with a clear conscience. Her own father has accepted the absolute necessity for her death, though of course it has given him a good deal of personal malaise.'

He paused and Sisipyla saw him swallow at something, some impediment as it seemed, in his throat. 'A considerable amount of malaise,' he said.

'You must keep this one basic fact in your mind,' Chasimenos said. 'The sacrifice must and will take place. No power on earth can stop it now.'

'The key to the whole thing lies in recognizing that,' Odysseus said. 'Now you are a bright girl, I can see that, you will understand that what it boils down to is not whether your mistress will die, but how.'

A pause followed upon this and Sisipyla sensed that some response from her was expected. 'How?' she said. 'Why, at the altar, by the knife, as we sacrifice to Artemis.'

'No, no,' said Chasimenos, who could not forbear chuckling at such simplicity. 'We are talking about the ma

'Chasimenos, you are confusing the girl. My dear, it comes down to style. What would be the right style for Iphigeneia, royal princess and priestess of Artemis? Struggling in the hands of her captors, gagged to stifle her shrieks, drugged to the eyebrows and hardly able to walk? Would any of these be the right style?'

He paused, enjoining caution on himself. He was enjoying this too much, he was talking too fast. The girl was no fool, he could see it in her eyes. All the same, it was neat, it was stimulating, persuading love to be the agent of death. 'Hardly, eh?' he said.

'No, Lord.'

'Well then.' Odysseus straightened his shoulders, pressed back his head and gazed at her expectantly. 'What would be the best style?'

Sisipyla looked seriously at the shrewd and humorous face before her. The eyes were full of life but there was no kindness in them. This was the man who was talking to Iphigeneia, he was the moving spirit in all this. She felt the force of his will and his cleverness, which was greater than hers. Something else too: this was pleasure to him, it was a sort of game. 'The victim must assent,' she said. 'She must go of her own accord. In that way Artemis is the more honoured and the omens will be good.'

'It is Zeus she will be honouring,' one of the other men broke in harshly.

Sisipyla cast her eyes down, 'Yes, Lord, for you it is Zeus, but my mistress will not so easily be persuaded to offer her life to Zeus. She will need to feel it is the will of the goddess.'

'Bravo!' Odysseus looked round at the others as if inviting them to share his admiration. 'We were not wrong about this girl,' he said. 'By all means let it seem to Iphigeneia that she is carrying out the will of Artemis.'

'The princess listens to you, doesn't she?' Chasimenos said.

'I have served her since we were children together.'

'If you love your mistress you will want her to make a good end. You must do your part, you must help us to prepare her mind.'

'I see, yes.' Sisipyla paused for a moment then said slowly, 'When Iphigeneia is gone I will have nobody. All my service in the palace has been with her. What will I do, alone and unprotected, a slave, without possessions?'

She had spoken without looking at any of those round her; but when she looked again at Odysseus' face she saw that he was smiling. 'But of course,' he said. 'We have given that aspect of things some thought already. Devotion is all very well, but a girl needs to think about her future.' He glanced at Chasimenos. 'This can be taken care of, can't it?'

'Certainly. I will make the arrangements personally. You will be set free from slavery and given a grant of land in a place of your choosing, terraced already and planted with olives, five hectares we had in mind, with a timbered house built on it free of charge.'

'With a dowry like that, and a pretty face to go with it, you won't wait long for a husband,' Odysseus said. 'I will throw in a few trinkets that you can wear at your wedding.'

'Excuse me, I am only a poor girl, how will I know that I can count on these promises?'

'My my,' Odysseus said, and the admiration now did not seem feigned. 'Here is a young lady with her head screwed on the right way.'

'I will give you a papyrus, signed by my hand as chief scribe, with the royal seal on it, that you can present at the palace when you return. Will that satisfy you?'

'And how will I return?'

Chasimenos had assumed a look of patience. 'We will arrange for your passage home.'

'Escorted?'

'Certainly, yes.'

'I am afraid of the Queen's hatred if I return without my mistress.'

'Have no fear, we will take care of everything.' Sisipyla allowed time for an appearance of deliberation, then nodded. She felt the approval of the men now – their faces had lost that ster

'What is that?'

'If she could be allowed to walk with the goddess.'