In this story, Clytemnestra learns of her husband’s plan.
She sees the altar and knows it’s not for marriage. She breaks free, saves her daughter, steals the dagger. She screams “the gods want a sacrifice? I’ll give them one!” as she slices Agamemnon’s throat open. The wind ruffles her hair as his blood, and not the blood of Iphigenia, soaks into the ground.
She doesn’t care what happens next, as long as her daughter is safe.
The Greeks don’t care, as long as the wind is at their backs and they can sail for war.
Instead, Agamemnon lives. He kills and steals and takes women as war prizes. Clytemnestra looks out the window of her murdered daughter’s bedroom to the sea and rages any time a breeze picks up. She is all rage, these days, all rage and revenge and regret. She knows time doesn’t soothe wounds like hers.
So she waits, hones her grief like a weapon, and swears to the gods she will have her retribution.
The Greater Grief; Clytemnestra