There is only so much that you can forgive.
Agamemnon murdered my love Tantalus,
Snatched my infant from my arms and dashed it
headlong into the rocks below–
Dark cliffs,
Spartan seas. And then My father gave me to him
the lion’s prize, crowned him king of Sparta
King of Sparta! If my brothers had been here
Agamemnon, Menelaus, both would
fall—if only they had fallen to the god-touched
twin spears, Castor and Polydeuces’ wrath.
Brothers against brothers, as it was with
Lynceus and Idas. My brothers were
half-immortal, Castor dead in Pollux’
arms since nothing in the world could wound the
god-descended twin.
But the loss of half
his own identity he could not bear.
They gaze at us from the stars now– I wonder
Do they weep? There is no one here to save
me as the twins once saved Helen from the
rape of Theseus—My own twin sister.
They are dead—so long dead, all this happened
so many years ago that I have three
children grown already, borne of mine and
Agamemnon’s seed. Had three children–
Iphigenia, flow’r of Spartan hearts
Electra, pale and delicate a girl
and young Orestes, still a boy at play.
It was Agamemnon’s fault entirely
that shallow boasting drove fair Artemis
to a hunter’s rage—why he could not just
keep his fool mouth shut I will never know—
and I will never know how he could lie
to Iphigenia, his own daughter,
tell her to come to Sparta for betrothal
To wed the great hero Achilleos.
But no, Achilles was never asked to
wed my daughter—it was the cruelest trick
to see her joy and happiness destroyed.
Her father needed winds to sail the ships,
the thousand ships of vengeance towards Troy
for stealing Menelaus’ Helen.
–It
Was no fair trade – my daughter slaughtered
on her wedding day, bound to an altar
that took her virgin soul to satisfy
the angry gods.
It is not the first time
I wished my sister dead. Do you know how
much I hate her? There are no words for
how I feel, my hate dwarfs the endless stars.
I am the daughter of a man, while she is
the daughter of a god. Zeus, the king of
Mount Olympus. Zeus rapes our mother, Leda
in swan’s feathers, the same night that she beds
Tyndareus, nine months before she lays
two eggs, two sets of twins, two boys, two girls.
I am the mortal twin, Clytemnestra,
Loveliest of human women—but still
nothing compared to my sister’s god-touched
Beauty. You could not look upon her face
and not fall in instantaneous love.
It is the same face! Same shape, same features!
And yet you can see immortality
in her eyes. The voice of a god comes through,
a glimpse of perfection in her movements.
But still human, still attainable–
She
Will not burn the eyes from your skull if you
should gaze upon her naked breast. Compared
to that, how could I compete?
I could not.
Tantalus, King of Pisatis, loved me.
Of all the suitors, he was the only one
with eyes for me, not my uncanny twin.
Even Agamemnon, Tyndareus feared,
would cast me off to vie for Helen’s hand.
He did not; he would not stand against his
brother, Menelaus. He took me—and
I forgave, although I dreamed of murder
every night I slept beside him.
My sister wed Menelaus after
All her suitors swore blood oaths to protect
the one who pulled the lucky straw—no death
from distant lands, no crimson heart’s blood shed.
Wise Odysseus should have won her hand
for bringing the best gift of all. But no—
he too was wise and chose Penelope.
Each day, these ten long years he has been gone
I have prayed, begged, for Agamemnon’s death.
Perhaps a Trojan arrowhead, laced with
Stygian poison, slow and painful doom;
Crushing mallets, ship wrenched from the cruel sea,
Stamped down beneath Hector’s chariot steeds.
I am Queen of Sparta. I rule this land.
I have taken Aegisthus to my bed.
He loathes Agamemnon as much as I,
vengeance upon his cousin revenging
his father-cum-grandfather’s reprisal.
It’s complicated.
This story is of twins—
Two brothers, Atreus and Thyestes.
Thyestes fucks his brother’s wife and steals
Mycenae’s throne. Atreus kills the sons
of Thyestes and serves them for dinner.
Atreus takes back his throne and wife, and
Thyestes stews in his furious hate.
Agamemnon and Menelaus are
Atreus’s sons by faithless Aerope.
Thyestes rapes Pelopia, his child
just as the oracle informed him. His
son-and-grandson is Aegisthus, who kills
Atreus, slays him with Thyestes’ sword
as king, returns his father to the throne.
This lasts until Atreus’ spawn return—
Exiled princes with Tyndareus’ aid
slay their uncle, drive off their cousin, and
seize the gods-damned house of Atreus.
Agamemnon’s line is cursed through incest,
rape, murder, cannibalism, offense
to the gods themselves.
How can this be fair?
Agamemnon and Menelaus return
Home in triumph, bearing their spoils of war.
This is not justice. I will take it in
my own two hands, for the two children that
he took from me. I will play the part
of loving wife.
I will draw a bath of
honeyed milk, white and thick to hide the net
Silken rope to hold a warrior’s strength back
to the level of a Spartan woman.
Usurper. Murderer. My knives are sharp.
He will die and I will have my vengeance.
-Sylvie Lee
