Disclaimer: These characters are not mine.
Spoiler Warning?: If you've read the Odyssey at all, you know that Agamemnon dies.
Rating: A pretty gruesome death and talk of passion experienced behind closed doors.
Woes of Agamemnon
While the mists of dawn still hung in the salty air, a cry went up from the watch that land had been sighted along the horizon. I rushed to the helm and, blinking my eyes against the sea spray, I looked out over the immense body of water that lay before my ship. Far off in the distance, I saw a strip of land, silhouetted by the rising sun behind it.
As we drew closer, I recognized the rocky shores of my homeland; before us lay the kingdom of Mycenae. A wave of dizziness came over me, and I clutched the side rail tighter to keep myself standing. How I have missed this place, I thought, coming to the realization that I have been gone for more than ten years; for longer than I could have ever thought the war would last.
I called out orders to my crew and leaned against the railing, watching the land get larger and larger, as we closed the distance.
A loud cheer went up when the ship was docked. Without waiting for orders, my men leapt over the railings of the ship. Some landed on the wooden dock, some on the beaches, and some in the water. Those in the water swam until they reached the beaches. Some of the men crawled on their hands and knees, touching their lips to the ground, again and again. The joy and relief to be home was obvious in my men. Some of them were hunched over, whispering silent prayers to the gods.
I walked slowly down the plank that led to the shore. I paused wearily at the end before taking my first step onto the land where I had grown up… the one that I had sorely missed all the while on my voyage. I felt a thrill go though me when my food touched the ground. My legs almost gave out on me at my relief at being home. This was where I belong, not across the sea at Troy. I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the salty air. I let it out slowly before moving purposefully towards the town. Everything could wait; all I wanted to do was see my beautiful wife, my beautiful Klytaimnestra.
I reached my home and knocked loudly on the door. Soon, a servant opened the door. It was a young woman that I did not know. Obviously a servant taken on since I'd been gone, I decided.
"King Agamemnon." She said with a curtsey. She moved aside quickly to let me in.
"Where is my wife?" I asked.
"Sir, she is in her quarters, still deep in sleep at this early hour. Shall I wake her?"
"Yes."
"And will you be wanting food, your Majesty?"
"Yes, but I desire a bath first."
"I shall have one prepared, Sir." With a final curtsey, she disappeared from the main hall. Footsteps could be heard ascending the stairs.
I walked around the hall, examining my home, noticing the changes that had occurred since last I set foot in these halls. Then I headed upstairs to the bathing room where I found a tub of hot water waiting for me. Another servant waited in the corner. I removed my clothes and handed them to her. Then I lowered myself slowly into the water, a sigh escaping my lips as I felt my muscles instantly relax.
The servant came forward now and rubbed my shoulders and back with a wet sponge. She was cleaning all the blood from my battles, every death that I caused was being washed away, disappearing from my memory. When she was done, I stood, and she slowly rubbed oils over my body. Then she held out my long robe, and I stepped into it, closing it and tying it shut.
I donned clothes and went downstairs to the dining room where I found the table filled with food and the love of my life, Klytaimnestra sitting in a chair, waiting for me. She didn't speak when I entered the room. She stood and her eyes followed me as I went around the table to where she stood. She curtseyed.
"Lord Agamemnon, it is good to see you, safely home from the war." I nodded once and pulled her to me for a soft, chaste kiss. The passion would come later, when the sky was dark and we had retired to our bedroom for the night.
"Sit. You must be hungry, my Lord."
I nodded, sinking into my chair, at the head of the table. Klytaimnestra stood and silently filled my plate with food. I watched her, watched her face, recalling the many sleepless nights that I had had, imagining her beautiful face. She set the plate in front of me and sat in her own chair to watch me eat. I picked up a fork and began to eat.
When I had eaten my fill, a servant whisked away my plate. Klytaimnestra had not moved from her seat, nor had her eyes wavered from my face.
Without warning, Klytaimnestra leapt from her chair and ended up on top of me. I felt a sharp pain in my chest and the warmth of the blood that was freely flowing over my fingers as I clutched at the knife protruding from my chest. I could only imagine the shock on my face as I fell to my knees and then my back, my eyes starting to grow cloudy. Above me loomed the face of the wretched woman that had put the dagger in my chest, a smile playing across her lips, her hand drenched in my blood. Then, as my last breath was sucked from my lungs, everything went black.