Messenger
Messenger
When we came to the sea-shore, where Orestes' ship was moored in hiding,
[1330]
Agamemnon's daughter motioned to those of us you sent with the strangers' bonds to stand far off, as if her sacrifice of purifying flame, that she had come for, were secret. But she went on alone, holding the strangers' chains in her hands, behind them. Your servants, lord, were suspicious,
[1335]
but we allowed it. After a while, so that we might think that she was accomplishing something, she raised a shout, and chanted strange songs and spells, as if she were washing off the pollution of murder. When we had sat a long time,
[1340]
it occurred to us that the strangers, loosed from their bonds, might kill her and escape by flight. But we were afraid of seeing what we ought not, and sat in silence. But at length we all resolved to go where they were, although we were not allowed.
[1345] There we saw a Hellene ship, winged with ready blade for the stroke, and at the oar-locks were fifty rowers with their oars; the two youths stood by the stern, freed from their chains. [1350] Some were holding the prow in place with poles; others were fastening the anchor from the cat-heads; others were drawing the stern-cables through their hands, and making haste to let down the ladders into the sea for the strangers. Without sparing ourselves, when we saw [1355] their treacherous wiles, we seized the priestess and the cables, and tried to draw the ship's rudder-oars out through their holes. Then there was a debate: “What is your reason for carrying the statue and the priestess away from the land by theft? [1360] Who is your father, who are you, to smuggle her away?” He said: “Know that I am Orestes, her brother, Agamemnon's son, and I have come to take my sister, whom I lost from her home.”