The Thebaid
Page 14
• My husband Vulcan is much more compliant,
despite the injuries that anger him.
I only have to ask him: he will sweat
for endless nights at his unceasing forge
to fashion me new ornaments; what’s more,
he likes to make me weapons, even yours!
‘‘But you—I might as well attempt to move
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rocks or a heart of brass as talk to you.
Answer one question for me; tell me this:
why did you let me give our precious daughter
a Theban husband, since her marriage proved
BOOK ≥ ΠΣ
unfortunate despite your certainty
the Tyrians, descendants of a dragon,
men of the race of Jupiter, would be
famous in arms and vigorous in deeds?
I would have rather that my daughter married
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someone Sithonian or Borean—
or north among your Thracians. Have I not
su√ered enough that she, the daughter of
Venus, a goddess, crawls along the ground
and spits out venom in Illyria?
The Tyrians are innocent’’—but Mars
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could not endure her weeping any longer.
His left hand grasped his spear, and he leaped down
from his high chariot without delay.
He hurt her as he clasped her to his shield
while soothing her with amicable speech:
‘‘My sure rest from the wars, my sacred joy,
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my only peace of mind: to you alone
among the gods and men has it been given
unharmed to face my weapons, to approach
my neighing horses in midslaughter and
to pluck away this sword from my right hand.
Neither the marriage contract of Sidonian
Cadmus nor your dear trust have I forgotten.
Do not take pleasure in false accusations!
‘‘I’d rather sink inside my uncle’s lake
or flee pale shadows unarmed, like a mortal,
but now the Fates, the mighty Father’s will,
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command obedience. I’m warned. The skill
of Vulcan was not needed for this mission.
He was not chosen. What excuse would I
have for ignoring Jove or for denying
decrees that he has spoken?—he who has
such strength that I have seen the earth and sky
and oceans tremble, and the gods conceal
themselves when he is speaking—even now!
Be not afraid, my darling, for although
I have no power to alter what must be,
I will be present at the walls of Thebes
ΠΠ STATIUS, THE THEBAID
when both sides fight, and I will help our people.
You will not be unhappy when you see
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my fury overwhelm the Argive army
in fields of blood. I am allowed this care;
the Fates do not forbid it.’’ Then he rose
and drove his flaming horses through the air.
The wrath of Jupiter descends to earth
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with no less swiftness when the godhead walks
• the snows of Othrys or the frozen peak
• of Ossa in the north and takes in hand
a weapon from the clouds. His lightning bolt
carries the savage message of the god.
It’s three-pronged fork sends terror through the heavens;
farmers point with their fingers, while at sea
poor sailors in their ships are overwhelmed.
Meanwhile, returning Tydeus measured back
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his path through Danaan fields and traced a track
on slopes of green Prosymna. Terrible
to see, his hair was thick with dust, and sweat
and dirt ran down his shoulders through deep wounds.
His eyes were wild and red from lack of sleep;
he thirsted, he breathed hard and sucked his cheeks
but in his mind was conscious of his deeds.
He held himself in high esteem, just like
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a fighting bull who enters his home pasture
dripping his own and his opponent’s blood
that streaks his neck, his dewlaps, and his shoulders.
His strength is pu√ed with weary pride; he scorns
to look down at his chest, as his opponent
lies in the sand alone and sadly moans.
The sound is soothing to his own raw wounds.
And such a one was Tydeus. Everywhere
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he traveled through the towns between Asopos
and ancient Argos he ignited hatred
as he retold how he went forth, a legate
sent by the Grecian nations to regain
a kingdom for the exiled Polynices.
BOOK ≥ Ππ
It was the Echionian ruler who denied
his rights and answered him with force, at night—
an ambush, men in arms, and treachery.
These were the means by which he kept his treaty!
People believe him readily. The god—
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Mars, the great warrior—made all seem real,
and Rumor doubled listening people’s fears.
–?–?–?–
Father Adrastus had, by chance, convened
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a council of respected, leading men,
when Tydeus entered. Suddenly he stood
inside the portals, at the great hall’s threshold,
and shouted, ‘‘Warriors, to arms! To arms!
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Noble Lernaean chieftain, if you share
the blood of your magnanimous ancestors,
prepare to arm! There is no piety,
no sense of right and wrong among the nations,
and no regard for Jove. It would have been
better to send me as ambassador
among the mad Sarmatians or to one
• who waits within Bebrycian woods for murder.
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I do not blame your orders or regret
my mission: I rejoice—rejoice!—that I
experienced myself the Thebans’ crimes.
‘‘It was a war, believe me: it was war!
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I stood there like a strong tower or a city
of fitted stones. Those chosen for the ambush
were armed with every weapon, but in vain.
I was alone. I did not know the place,
but they could not contain me, even though
they ambushed me at night. They lie in blood,
before their desolated city. Now,
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father-in-law, now is the time to fight
the enemy, while they are pale with fright
and timid, while they bear their dead, and while
the memory of what I did survives.
I beg you, even though I am exhausted
Π∫ STATIUS, THE THEBAID
from making ghosts of fifty warriors
and bear wounds that grow cold and blood that festers,
begin at once!’’
The timid Argives cheered.
In front of all of them, his head down, stepped
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the Cadmean, that hero, and ‘‘Can I—
whose life is guilt, one whom the gods detest—
look at your wounds and not wish I were wounded?
Brother, would you have done these things if I
had come home? Were your weapons meant for me?
It is a loathsome thing to cling to life!
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I let this happen, but I never knew
Eteocles could be so barbarous. . . .
‘‘I am
a guest, and it is not my place
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to bring you trouble. Let the walls of Argos
remain in peace. I know—and what has happened
makes it no easier—how di≈cult
it is for children, for the country, for
husbands to leave their wives: let no house blame
me for its troubles; let no mothers squint
at me askance with savage eyes! I hold
my throat before you Thebes; to you, my brother—
great Tydeus, most especially to you.
Father-in-law has spoken but, this time,
may not deter me, nor my loving wife:
freely I go, though sure to lose my life.’’
• These were the words by which he tried their hearts.
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He asked by indirection, roused defiance,
brought tears, let indignation smolder.
Soon all were angry, not just youths but those
whom age had frozen into indolence.
All were one mind, to empty out their homes
and summon men from nearby towns, and go.
The patriarch, however, was well counseled,
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not unaware of what it takes to govern.
‘‘These things are for the gods, and what must be
BOOK ≥ ΠΩ
remedied, I entreat you, leave to me.
Your brother will not bear his scepter unpunished
by you, but we will not be pushed
to promise war. Welcome the son of Oeneus,
and celebrate the honor blood has brought.
May his great heart find long-sought rest in season.
Let us dispense with sorrow, but not reason.’’
At once his comrades and his pale wife crowded
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Tydeus, worn out from battle and from travel.
He was a happy man. He settled in
the middle of the hall and leaned his back
against a mighty column while his wounds
were tended by the Epidauran, Idmon,
who varied his swift knife with warming herbs,
a milder treatment. He was lost in thought,
then he recounted, from its origin,
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his bitter struggle, how it started, each
event in turn, the place where he was ambushed,
the silence of the night in which he fought.
He told who faced him and how many, then
described the moments of his maximum
exertion and how he preserved one sorry
witness, named Maeon. His retelling stunned
the loyal troops, their chieftains, and his fatherin-
law. The Tyrian exile burned in anger.
–?–?–?–
On the steep margin of the western sea
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the sun had set his flaming horses free
and in the currents of the ocean bathed
their red and yellow rays. The followers
• of Nereus, the sea god, and the Hours
relieved him of his reigns and his high crown,
woven of gold, and they released his sweating
horses from harness. Some turned out the team,
for they had earned soft pasture; others leaned
the chariot to rest and raised its beam.
π≠ STATIUS, THE THEBAID
Night. It arrived and calmed the cares of men
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and movements of the beasts. It wrapped the heavens
in its black shroud. Calm came to everyone
indeed, but not to you, Labdacian prince
Eteocles, or you, Adrastus, for
deep sleep made Tydeus dream of great achievements.
–?–?–?–
Among night-wandering shades the war god thundered
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along Arcadia’s borders in his armor,
along the heights of Taenaros, in Nemea’s
• fields, and in Apollo’s town Therapnae.
He agitated hearts and made men want
to enter war at once. Long flowing hair
hung from his crest arranged by Rage and Madness.
His weapon bearer Terror drove his stallions.
But Rumor, wrapped in idle speculation,
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attentive to the least sound, flew before
his chariot, blown by the winged steeds’ sighs.
She fluttered her impatient, humming plumes.
The driver urged her with his bloody lash
to utter what is true and what is false
even as Mars, the father, poked the goddess
with Scythian spear and struck her back and tresses.
It happened as when on the great Aegean
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Neptune drives willing winds he has released
from their Aeolean prison. They precede
his dreadful company. They stir the seas.
The Clouds of Storm, Deep Winter Showers, and Gloom
drone and conglomerate around his reins.
Dark Tempest tears the sand up from the deep.
• The islands of the Cyclades are doubtful,
their roots are torn, but they withstand, and Delos,
you are afraid you will be torn and lose
your moorings from Myconos and Gyaros.
You pray for help from your great son, Apollo.
–?–?–?–
BOOK ≥ π∞
Aurora, goddess of the dawn, appeared—
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her red face shining—for the seventh time
before Adrastus left his inner chamber.
His sons-in-law’s ambitions and the war
greatly perplexed the Persean hero’s thoughts,
and he could not decide whether to license
a call to arms and start new conflicts that
would shake the commonwealth, or put a brake
to all the anger and resheathe drawn blades.
He mulls tranquillity and peace, the quiet
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disgrace of doing nothing, and the task
of swaying an unmanageable people from
the wondrous charms of battle. He resolved,
at last, to settle his misdoubts, to know
the minds of prophets and to move the gods
whose sacred rites give foresight to the truth.
It is a craft, a skill, to know the future:
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Amphiaraus had been given it.
Joining him on his journey was Melampus,
the son of Amythaon: he was old,
but vigorous of mind; he knew Apollo.
It would be hard to say to which one Phoebus
answered more fully, which one’s mouth received
more satisfying drafts of Cirrha’s waters.
At first they searched the blood and inner organs
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of animals to understand the gods,
but they were frightened when the mottled hearts