“Your eyes are open,” the silver-tongued grandson of Autolykos
said to the wife of Agamemnon. “And you see them,
those strong men, brave men who have fought at your husband’s side
and earned his trust and undying gratitude for how they suffered and bled
in Enyo’s field to make his name glorious among men; aye them.
Do you think men like that would do anything to bring harm or disgrace
upon your most cherished possession? No, I tell you!
Agamemnon, king over kings, has promised Iphigenia’s hand
to Achilles the islander so that his Myrmidons will stand beside your husband’s troops
and strike terror into the hearts of those cowardly Trojans.
And let me tell you this – the sooner we’ve sacked their city,
the sooner he’ll be able to sail back to you.
Surely making your daughter a wife of the black hunter is worth all that.”
And Klytemnestra, with a sinking feeling, relented.
