Read Online Beauty's Daughter: The Story of Hermione and Helen of Troy by Carolyn Meyer - Free Book Online

free, Iphigenia,” he said. But the crowd turned against him and roared its disapproval, threatening to stone Achilles if he saved her. A goddess had demanded a sacrifice, and she must be satisfied.
    But my cousin didn’t move. “I am willing to die for the glory of Greece,” she said, gazing up at Achilles with her soft brown eyes. “And for love of you, Achilles.” She wasn’t going to flee! I thought she was unbelievably brave. I knew that I could never do what she was doing. She closed her eyes and murmured, so softly that I nearly missed her words, “Do what you must do, Father.”
    Eyes bulging, teeth bared, Agamemnon drew back and swiftly brought the bronze blade to Iphigenia’s throat as Clytemnestra unleashed a terrible scream and fainted. A deafening clap of thunder split the air, and the bright sky went blacker than the blackest night. It was as if we had all been struck blind. There was a rush of wind, and when the darkness vanished as suddenly as it had come and the sun again blazed on Agamemnon’s killing knife blade, Iphigenia was gone. In her place on the altar lay a hind, a female deer, with an enormous rack of antlers. The sacrificial knife fell on the beast’s throat, blood spurted in a red fountain, and the crowd gasped.
    One of Artemis’s priests stepped forward and in a high, reedy voice addressed the astonished crowd. “Princess Iphigenia has been spared,” he told them. “She has been wrapped in a cloud and taken away by the great goddess to serve as her priestess in the land of the Taurians.”
    Immediately the northeasterly gale shifted. The black ships would sail.

8
A Thousand Ships
    THE BEACH AT AULIS thrummed with excitement, and I was swept into the activity swirling all around me. Many men came to the altar where the dead hind lay, touched her great rack, and dipped their fingers in the animal’s still-warm blood. Clytemnestra swayed, clutching the arms of Electra and Chrysothemis, the two daughters still left to her, both wearing stunned expressions. Agamemnon, too, looked stunned, but also relieved. I could no longer locate my father.
    I turned my attention to Achilles, handsomer by far than Paris, in my opinion, with a hard-muscled chest and the long, sinewy legs of a fleet-footed runner, masses of pale locks falling over a wide brow, and finely chiseled features. He moved with confidence and authority. He had acted nobly, trying to save my cousin’s life. I had already decided what I was going to do. I would not return to Mycenae with my aunt and her two daughters. Iphigenia was gone to Tauris, a land that lay far to the north. Orestes, who had been restrained while his sister lay on the altar, would sail with Agamemnon. There was nothing at all for me in Mycenae.
    I would go to Troy.
    I intended to smuggle myself onboard Father’s ship. I was angry with my father for betraying Iphigenia, but still I wanted to be with him. When it was too late to turn back, I would reveal myself to him. He would be happy to see me, I was sure of that. Perhaps a little angered at what I had done, but proud of me too. We would forgive each other.
    But I had no idea where my father was in that noisy, churning crowd, or how to find his ship among the thousand.
    Achilles glanced at me briefly. There was no reason for the great warrior to notice me, but I reached out my hand, and his gaze returned and rested on me.
    “Who are you?” he asked, frowning.
    “Princess Hermione, daughter of Queen Helen and King Menelaus. I’m looking for my father’s ship,” I said.
    I knew at once I’d made a mistake. I should not have given myself away. I should have made up a lie, told Achilles that I was a servant. Now it was too late. He would no doubt offer to take me to my father, who would then turn me over to my aunt and insist that I return to Mycenae as planned. A boy trailing behind Achilles stared at me sullenly. He bore a strong resemblance to the great warrior—the same pale locks, the same