Triptych and Iphigenia by Edna O’Brien

his concubine.
    In contempt of the gods and all pious feeling.
    Brought back to the House of Atreus.
    You will greet your war-torn husband with every appearance of delight.
    Unroll the purple carpet.
    Lead him to the bathhouse.
    When he steps out of the bath, eager for banquet, you will come forward …
    As if to wrap a towel about him but instead …
    It is a net …
    Entangled in it like a fish, Agamemnon will perish at the hands of Aegisthus, son of Thysetes and corruptor of your marriage bed.
    The broad blade driven in to Agamemnon’s garlanded throat.
    He falls on the silver-sided bath, his brain awhirl, in death convulsion, his eyes staring in disbelief at you, at you his queen.
    Will add her hand to the hand of Aegisthus and drive the blade clean home into your king’s breast, exacting the full price …
    On the thirteenth day of Gamelian.
    Not troubling to close his eyeballs and wiping the blood off your hands, you will return to the feast, unafraid of divine retribution.
    CLYTEMNESTRA
    Sweeter to me your words
    Than heaven’s raindrops
    When the cornland buds.
    Darkness.