There will come a time when songs are sung about her, about the people she loved and the ones she hated. They will sing of her mother, the queen seduced by a god, of her brothers, boxers and horse-breakers, of her sister, a woman so vain who couldn’t stay in her husband’s bed, of Agamemnon, the proud lion of Mycenae, of the wise, many-minded Odysseus, of the treacherous, cursed Aegisthus, of Clytemnestra, cruel queen and unfaithful wife. But it doesn’t matter. She was there. She knows songs never tell the truth.
