‘Tonight, we keep watch! At daybreak we renew our assault. Will Diomedes, son of Tydeus, press me back from the ships to the rampart? Or will I kill him and carry off his blood-stained armour? Who knows? We shall see whether he dares face this spear! Yet I trust that the rising Sun may find him fallen in a ring of his henchmen. Could I only feel as sure of remaining youthful and triumphant for the rest of my life—honoured like Athene and Apollo—as I do that Agamemnon’s army is doomed to disaster!’
The Trojans, after a burst of applause, unharnessed their sweating teams and tethered them to the chariots. Next, they fetched cattle and sheep from Troy, also wine and bread, and collected kindling-wood in plenty. A wind rose and blew up to Heaven the smoke of their hundred-beast sacrifices. Nevertheless, the gods would not regale themselves with the delicious smell, because of the deep hatred they bore Priam and his people. That night, the Trojans bivouacked on the battlefield, confident of victory.
About the lovely Moon each separate star
Twinkles; remote and windless is the sky;
Peaks, woods and promontories stretch afar—
As clear as day to the glad shepherd’s eye…
Thus, from the walls of Troy, the sentries’ glad eyes saw a thousand little lights illuminating the plain between river and sea; each light a camp-fire, around which sat fifty Trojans. Their teams were tethered to the chariots, munching pearl-barley mixed with spelt, and awaiting the regal glory of Dawn.
Book Nine:
A Deputation to Achilles
While the Trojans kept watch that night, utter confusion reigned among the Greeks. It was as when:
Two furious winds come striving
South-easterly from Thrace,
Brown weed in tangles driving
Across the sea’s wan face—
So wild a storm provokes despair
Among the dumb fish lurking there.
Though dazed by grief, Agamemnon collected a few heralds and sent them off to convene a hurried council-of-war. ‘But give each prince a private warning,’ he said. ‘The Trojans might overhear a public summons.’ When he addressed the Council—
His tears ran down as mournfully as if
They were some dark stream oozing from a cliff…
Agamemnon spoke in a broken voice: ‘Comrades, Zeus Son of Cronus must have cursed me with blindness; I never suspected so cruel a trick. Despite his firm promise that I should not quit these shores before sacking Troy, he now expects me to sail home dishonoured by immense losses. Yet, such being Zeus’ pleasure, what can we do? He has humbled many a proud city and, since his power is supreme, will often do so again. I propose therefore that we raise this siege and make the best of our way back to Greece; for Heaven denies us victory.’
A long silence greeted this outburst, all the Councillors feeling too glum to venture a reply; but at last Diomedes of the Loud War-Cry rose.
‘My lord Agamemnon,’ he said, ‘I shall exercise the right of free speech and you must not resent any strictures on your incompetence—especially after having called me a coward, as everyone in the camp, whatever his length of service, well remembers. The truth is that Zeus Son of Cronus the Crooked-Dealer has a habit of doing things by halves: he has, for instance, granted you the title of High King and appointed you leader of this expedition, while denying you the supreme gift of steadfastness. My lord, do you really consider us mean-spirited? Your ships lie beached beside the many hundreds that followed you from Greece; yonder stretches the sea… But none of us other Greeks will desert the allied cause; or so I trust. Even if I should be mistaken about my fellow-commanders, at least Sthenelus and I, who came here in Zeus’ name, are resolved to stay—just the two of us—until Troy falls.’
A burst of cheering rang out, and King Nestor spoke next. ‘Diomedes, son of Tydeus,’ he cried, ‘you are not only a remarkable fighter, but the best public speaker of our generation! Nobody can disregard or contradict what you have said. Though young enough to be a son of my old age, you gave advice that was both sound and honest—so far as it went. Now, as a soldier of much greater experience, I shall carry the argument to its conclusion; for neither the High King himself nor anyone else is likely to treat my words with disdain:
Only a tribeless, lawless, homeless man
Discord will meditate, and discord plan!
And which of us could be described as tribeless, lawless, or homeless?
‘However, I do not propose to speak on an empty stomach. Since night has fallen, let us prepare supper, while some of the more active men form outposts in the space between the fosse and the rampart. My lord Agamemnon, pray spread a banquet for us Councillors! As High King this is at once your duty and your privilege; and these huts are well stocked with wine ferried across from Thrace. When we have supped, you can review our various suggestions and adopt the wisest. Wisdom we certainly need. To be ringed round by the enemy’s numerous camp-fires is no laughing matter. The fate of our expedition must be decided tonight!’
No sooner said than done. Seven companies, each of a hundred spearmen under a captain, acted as outposts, lighting fires and cooking their suppers in the space between fosse and rampart. The captains were: Thrasymedes, son of Nestor; the Minyans Ascalaphus and Ialmenus, sons of Ares; Meriones the Cretan; Aphareus; Deipyrus; and Lycomedes, son of Creion. But Agamemnon feasted the Council in his hut, and when they had all satisfied their hunger and thirst Nestor, whose advice had always been voted the best—in the old days—generously gave them more of it.
He said: ‘Most noble son of Atreus, my lord Agamemnon the High King! If I both start and end this speech with your name, I do so because Zeus has entrusted you with the sceptre of sovereignty, and placed you in command over many different contingents; it is therefore your duty, as President of this Council, to guide the debate, and approve the sagest proposal made. You can rely on us to follow in whatever direction you then point. I shall be as helpful as possible—and doubt whether anyone present will hit upon a wiser comment than mine—the thought has been floating in my head ever since the day when you sent heralds to take the captive Briseis from Achilles’ hut, not only without our approval but against my express warning—in short, you were a fool to let your proud heart betray you into dishonouring a hero whom the gods themselves honoured—for you robbed Achilles of his prize, and still retain it! Yet it is not too late to think how we may win his renewed support by appeasing him with kind words and friendly gifts.’
‘Venerable Nestor,’ Agamemnon answered, ‘your animadversions are well deserved. I do not deny having acted like a fool. A military commander beloved by Zeus—as Zeus now loves Hector, and allows him to destroy us—is worth many armies. So, repenting of my hasty passions, I shall make amends in the form of a stupendous indemnity herewith offered to Prince Achilles: Seven unused, three-legged bronze kettles; ten gold ingots weighing a talent apiece6; twenty shining copper cauldrons; six pairs of race-winning chariot horses—the man would not be poor, no indeed, my lords, who owned as much wealth as those horses earn me in prizes! To these gifts I add seven craftswomen—marvellously beautiful girls—I chose them for myself from the booty which Achilles won at Lesbos; also the woman of whom I deprived him the other day—namely Briseis, daughter of Briseus—taking an oath that I have had no carnal knowledge of her. All goods and prisoners will be delivered to him at once; and if the gods grant us the good fortune of sacking Troy, then he may claim the further right to select not only a whole shipload of gold and bronze treasures, but the twenty loveliest women in Troy, Queen Helen the Fair-Haired alone excepted. Moreover, if we come safely back to the rich land of Greece, I vow to adopt Achilles and accord him the same rank and honours as my own son Orestes, who is now enjoying a luxurious education at Mycenae. Besides, I have three daughters in that splendid palace of mine: Chrysothemis, Laodice, and Iphianassa. Achilles is free to marry whichever girl he prefers and, when he fetches her away to Phthia, I shall demand no bride-price but, quite the reverse, provide a dowry larger
than any king ever settled on a daughter! I will give him lordship, too, over seven towns: Cardamyle, Enope, Hire (where the grazing is excellent), Pherae, sacred to Apollo, Antheia with its lush meadows, lovely Aepeia, and Pedasus, famous for its vines. They lie together near the sea, beyond Sandy Pylos; and the inhabitants, who own enormous flocks of sheep and herds of cattle, will bring him gifts worthy of a god when they swear allegiance. I make these promises on the understanding that Achilles yields to my entreaty and forgets his grudge. Let him not behave like Hades—the most hated of all the gods, because his stern heart is never softened, nor his mind changed, however cogent the appeal! I expect Achilles, in fact, to be ruled by me; since I am far higher in rank and, what is more, considerably his senior.’
Nestor replied: ‘Most noble Agamemnon, such gifts cannot be lightly declined; but we must send acceptable delegates to Achilles’ hut… See here: if I choose them myself, will anyone raise objections? First, I name the venerable Phoenix, King of the Dolopians, and Achilles’ own tutor; second, Great Ajax; third, King Odysseus. The heralds Odius and Eurybates should accompany them. How is that? Now, pray my lord, call for water to wash our hands, and then for holy silence while we address Zeus Son of Cronus in prayer; he may well show us mercy.’
Nestor’s suggestion being approved, the heralds poured water over every guest’s hands; after which servitors filled the mixing-bowls and ladled out wine. Every guest took his cup, emptied it on the ground by way of libation to Zeus and, when replenished, drank heartily. The banquet thus came to an end and Nestor, with many searching glances at each face, but especially at that of Odysseus, gave the delegates full instructions how best to overcome Achilles’ resistance.
Phoenix, Ajax, Odysseus and the two heralds went along the seashore, praying that Zeus, Supreme Ruler of this Earth, might induce Achilles to accept Agamemnon’s advances. Arrived at the Myrmidons’ lines, they found him singing a lusty ballad about ancient heroes, and accompanying himself on his lyre. This was a resonant, beautifully constructed instrument, with a silver cross-bar, looted from Eëtion’s fortress of Thebe. Achilles’ intimate friend Patroclus sat listening near and, when the delegation reached the hut, did not interrupt his performance. The five men entered, headed by Odysseus, and Achilles sprang up in surprise, still holding the lyre. Patroclus also rose.
Achilles greeted his guests. ‘Well met,’ he cried. ‘I am glad to see once again the faces of my dearest comrades—I have missed you all sorely, despite my anger.’ He offered them seats on settles and bales of purple carpet, then said to Patroclus: ‘Son of Menoetius, fetch a larger bowl, mix stronger drink, and produce five more cups for these friends of mine.’
Patroclus complied. He also carried a huge chopping-block into the firelight, and laid on it the chines of three fat carcases—a sheep’s, a goat’s, and a porker’s. Automedon the charioteer held these in place, while Achilles hacked at them, afterwards slicing and spitting the meat. Patroclus made up the fire and, as soon as its flames died down, spread out the embers evenly and rested the spits on racks over their hot glow. When the slices of meat, which had already been salted, were done to a turn, Achilles heaped trenchers with them; at the same time Patroclus took bread and distributed it in neat baskets around the table.
Achilles sat facing Odysseus, and asked Patroclus to offer the gods a sacrifice by tossing pieces of meat into the fire. This done, they ate and drank heartily until, at the close, Ajax nodded to Phoenix. Odysseus, however, intercepted the nod and, before Phoenix could say what he had come to say, filled his own cup crying: ‘Your health, Achilles! We can always be sure of a splendid feast not only in Agamemnon’s hut, but also, it seems, in this. But where to find good food and drink is by no means our sole preoccupation at the moment; on the contrary, great foster-son of Zeus, after our serious reverse, we are wondering whether, unless you step into the breach, we shall manage to save the fleet. The Trojans and their allies are, as you know, bivouacking behind a long line of fires just outside our defence system, resolved that we shall not survive their next assault. Yesterday Zeus Son of Cronus encouraged them with thunder on the right flank; and Hector, welcoming so favourable a sign, fought like one possessed. He rejoiced in his great strength, charged furiously through our ranks, shouting defiance at gods and men, and dealt death wherever he went. Now, having ordered his men to chop the high stern-ornaments from our ships, set the hulls ablaze, and massacre us in the confusion, he prays that bright Dawn will quickly shine for him. I fear the gods may allow him to fulfil his threats and leave our bones rotting on this alien shore. My lord, here is your last chance to save a demoralized Greek army from the triumphant Trojans. Fail us, and you will always regret it! A disaster on such a scale can never be undone; take my warning and rescue us in the nick of time.’
Odysseus then proceeded: ‘My friend, your father Peleus’ strict injunctions, when he sent you off to serve under King Agamemnon, still haunt my memory. “Achilles, dear son,” he said, “though the Goddesses Athene and Hera give you success in battle, pray try to restrain that proud spirit of yours; gentleness becomes you far better. And keep clear of quarrels, for quiet behaviour is admired by Greeks of all ages!” My lord, even if you have forgotten your father’s words, do, pray, let your anger finally cool! King Agamemnon is anxious to conciliate you with gifts that match your achievements. Listen while I enumerate the valuables which he promises from his treasure-hut: Seven unused, three-legged bronze kettles; ten talents of gold; twenty shining copper cauldrons; six pairs of race-winning chariot horses—the man would not be poor, no indeed, who owned as much wealth as those horses earn Agamemnon in prizes! To these gifts he adds seven craftswomen—marvellously beautiful girls—he chose them for himself from the booty which you won at Lesbos; also the woman of whom he deprived you the other day—namely Briseis, daughter of Briseus—taking an oath that he has had no carnal knowledge of her. All goods and prisoners will be delivered to you at once; and if the gods grant us the good fortune of sacking Troy, then you may claim the further right to select not only a whole shipload of gold and bronze treasures, but the twenty loveliest women in Troy, Queen Helen alone excepted. Moreover, if we come safely back to the rich land of Greece, he promises to adopt you and accord you the same rank and honours as his own son Orestes, who is now enjoying a luxurious education at Mycenae. Besides, Agamemnon has three daughters in that splendid palace of his: Chrysothemis, Laodice, and Iphianassa. You are free to marry whichever girl you prefer and, when you fetch her away to Phthia, he will demand no bride-price but, quite the reverse, provide a dowry larger than any king ever settled on a daughter. He will give you lordship, too, over seven towns: Cardamyle, Enope, Hire (where the grazing is excellent), Pherae, sacred to Apollo, Antheia with its lush meadows, lovely Aepeia, and Pedasus, famous for its vines. They lie together near the sea, beyond Sandy Pylos; and the inhabitants, who own enormous flocks of sheep and herds of cattle, will bring you gifts worthy of a god when they swear allegiance.
‘All this he offers. But if hatred of Agamemnon prompts you to refuse, at least take pity on your wretched compatriots! Save them and earn semi-divine honours! You might even have the undying glory to kill Hector: if his battle-madness comes upon him he is sure to seek you out as our supreme champion.’
Achilles answered: ‘My lord Odysseus, pray waste no more breath in coaxing me to change my heart! I hate a man who conceals his true feelings, as much as I hate the Gates of Hell, and shall therefore make myself plain. Since Agamemnon never showed the smallest gratitude for the countless feats which I performed at his request, neither he nor any Greek alive will persuade me to accept these belated advances! On the ground, I suppose, that death strikes down every mortal irrespective of his service, Agamemnon, when he allotted spoils, would not distinguish between the coward who had elected to stay in his hut and the hero who had borne the brunt of the fighting. What thanks did I get from him, though I hazarded my life time after time?
“The hen-bird flutters out to find
>
Food for her callow chicks,
And nobly bears their needs in mind
When, from the grass, she picks
Beetles or grubs with tireless bill;
But her own maw may never fill.”
‘That was how I used to work: on watch ail night, at war all the bloody day, robbing brave soldiers of their wives and daughters to provide Agamemnon with concubines! I led no less than twelve successful sea-raids on Trojan towns, and eleven successful land attacks. In each case I brought back a huge haul of booty, which the High King shared among his subordinates. He reserved most of it for himself, doling out a few treasures only as prizes of honour. Though my fellow-princes have kept theirs, Agamemnon chose me, Achilles, to rob of my sweetheart! She is still in his power; but now he can do with her what he pleases—Briseis no longer means anything to me.
‘Confess, my lords; how did this war come about? Was it not that Agamemnon raised an immense expedition to recover Queen Helen? Then are he and his brother Menelaus the sole husbands who value their wives? Surely all decent, sound-witted men feel alike? I loved Briseis wholeheartedly, even if she was no more than my prisoner. But since the High King has cheated me of my prize, and I have learned to distrust him, he may as well abandon his attempt at flattery. No, my lord Odysseus, if Agamemnon wants his fleet to stay unburned, he should forget my existence, and call on you and the rest of the Council for advice. He has accomplished many things lately without my help: such as raising a rampart and digging a deep, wide, palisaded fosse—not that they will serve to check the death-dealing Hector! Besides, while I still took the field, Hector never ventured far from his walls; he seldom even reached Zeus’ oak just outside the Scaean Gate, and waited for me there only once. He was fortunate to escape alive!
The Anger of Achilles: Homer's Iliad Page 16
