'Yes, Lady. And you will live to honour the goddess many times over.'

'The sacrifice will not be in keeping with your destiny, you have no destiny.'

'Lady, I am nothing, I am less than your shadow. This talk of destiny comes from Odysseus. He is clever but he is a bad man and he sees only what is bad in others. So he can be deceived. He will come again to persuade you. But now you will be stronger than he, you will know something he doesn't know. It will be better if you seem to be yielding, if you let him see that he is gaining ground. Not all at once, of course. Then he will be glad, he will want to fix the time of the sacrifice as soon as possible, so as to be done with it, so the ships can sail. In that way we can be ready with our plan. They talk of Zeus, and for a sacrifice to Zeus they will come just before sunrise. We will keep the light low inside here, when they come you will hide your face, you will be Sisipyla, overcome with grief. When they have taken me from the tent you will wait a little time and then make your escape. The boat will be waiting at the edge of the camp, at that side where the rocks have fallen. Everyone will be up on the hillside, waiting for the sacrifice. Macris will take you across the water, he will keep you safe.'

6.

'Amazing, absolutely amazing,' Odysseus said. 'You can talk for hours, for days, and not a flicker. Then you say the same thing again in slightly different words and hey presto, you see a change in the eyes, you hear a change in the voice, you know you are on the way, you know you've struck the right note, you see light at the end of the tunnel...'

'Breakthrough.'

'Breakthrough, brilliant, what I would do without you I don't know. I must admit that I feel pleased about the way things have gone. Of course, I spared no effort to make her see reason, I am capable of dedication when there is need for it. I mean, this business has taken two days and half of one night and given me a sore throat. There were times when I felt irritated, times when I felt like giving her a good spanking. The heavy-burden-of-command argument was no good, for obvious reasons. The sense-of-responsibility argument, which worked so well with her father, didn't really go down very well. I mean, she isn't responsible for anything, is she? She doesn't see herself as a witch, naturally. She is devoted to Artemis, it would have ruined everything to reflect on her duties as a priestess, it would have set her against us, made her more intractable than ever, lost ground already gained...'

'Counter-productive.'

'There you go again, brilliant. I lost a lot of time initially, talking to her about greatness, what is due to her station and so on. But she isn't old enough to know what greatness means. It only started to have effect when I linked it up with destiny. She didn't show any sign at that point, but I am pretty sure that's where her resistance began to break down. Yes, our little Iphigeneia is interested in the idea of a noble destiny. Already, last night, I was getting some response. But it wasn't until this morning that I hit upon the right connection. Believe it or not, she thinks it is her destiny to save her people. She wants to take on the burden, discharge the debt, redeem the wrongs of the world...'

'Messianic complex.'

'By all the gods, you are excelling yourself today. Yes, once I understood that, we got on like a house on fire. She began to confide in me – there couldn't be a clearer sign that she was caving in. She told me the story of the blood-curse on her family, which of course I already knew, but she seemed to think it was a secret. She actually thought that by marrying Achilles she could lift the curse. Now the groom she will meet will be more irresistible even than he and the salvation factor much greater. Not only the family, you see, but everything else too. She declares herself ready to die, and she means it. I know sincerity when I see it. We can notify Croton immediately and set things going. The sacrifice will take place at sunrise tomorrow. It's odd, isn't it? We used the same basic argument of a noble destiny with both father and daughter. It succeeded with the father because he hasn't got any nobility, it has succeeded with the daughter because she has too much of it. I call that really neat. We must remember to keep our promises to that pretty little slave girl – what's her name again?'

'Sisipyla.'

'I think we owe a lot to her. She's obviously been working behind the scenes to bring her mistress round. And she gave me a clue, something I might not have thought of – we all have our limitations.'

'What was that?'

'Well, this moon-mask business. Everything is conceptual, that's a discovery my experience of life has brought me to. I thought, you know, if it was so important for Iphigeneia to walk to the altar with the goddess, she would be open to the idea that the goddess wanted it, had always wanted it, that it was the will of Artemis that she should die.'

7.

It was still dark when Sisipyla started to prepare. The robe had been brought to them the evening before; cut from new cloth and dyed saffron by women of the camp, it had been scented and folded and kept ready for the princess's arrival. Sisipyla put it on carefully in the dim light of the lamp and Iphigeneia adjusted the folds at the shoulders and tied the narrow sash behind. Now it was time for the mask, and here Sisipyla had to instruct her mistress, who was new to this task. First, slowly and carefully, the outline of the oval, beginning across the forehead, curving down through the temples, meeting at the centre of the chin. Then the filling in of the shape, smoothing the paste evenly over the brow and nose and cheeks, taking care not to go too close to the eyes and lips and nostrils. Under her fingers Iphigeneia saw the face she knew disappear and that of an immaculate stranger take its place.

'Now the hair,' Sisipyla said. 'It must be dressed high on the head if we are not to cut it. It must be kept well clear of the neck.' How strange it seemed that her mistress should now be making her up, getting her ready, acting the servant. When they were small Iphigeneia used often to dress her up, tie her hair with ribbons, put various outfits on her. She had served as a live doll for a while, perhaps a year, until the princess had grown tired of it. She felt fear like a knot in her stomach, and the palms of her hands were moist. She saw or imagined a faint light straining through the canvas, contending with the lamplight. It was not ceasing to be that frightened her, only the manner of it, the violation. She had struggled to keep the fear from her mind while she concentrated on the instructions to her mistress. Now that she was dressed and ready, the fear came at her more strongly for having been held back, and she felt a quick, involuntary contraction of the throat.

Iphigeneia stepped back suddenly, putting a distance between them for the first time since the dressing-up had began. And now, just as suddenly, through her own unchanging mask Sisipyla saw the face before her change, pass from a look of appraisal to a different kind of scrutiny, colder, somehow stricken.

'You are me,' she said. 'If you are me, what am I?'

'You are always Iphigeneia.'

'They will think you are me, they will think your blood is mine.'

'Only for as long as needs be. Then you will–'

'No, the time when they think your blood is mine can never be got back again, because the blood is shed for ever.'

'Lady we must be ready, it will soon be light.'

'You are my dear companion but our blood is not the same. My blood is royal, yours is that of an Asian slave girl. You will steal my destiny.'

'Destiny?'

'Only great people have destiny, common people cannot have it. Odysseus explained this to me.'