The War At Troy

by Lindsay Clarke

  Lips pursed in a half-smile, Achilles stirred the embers of the fire with the skewer he held. They could hear the boom of the surf outside.

  ‘So morale is lower than it’s ever been and there’s only one thing that can lift it.’ Again Odysseus drew in his breath. ‘We need you back among us. We need you to put some fight into the men.’

  Achilles lifted his cold eyes. ‘I thought I made myself clear.’

  ‘You did -- but things can change.’ Leaning forward, Odysseus spoke more urgently. ‘There’s no need for this quarrel to go on. Agamemnon has begun to see things differently. He’s prepared to back down. You can have Briseis back untouched -- he swears that he hasn’t laid a finger on her since he seized her. Seven other women that he took on Lesbos come with her. Then there’s ten talents of gold on offer and twelve prize horses swift enough to win you all the cash you could want.’ When he saw that Achilles was about to interrupt, Odysseus quickly raised his voice. ‘And if that’s not enough to soothe your hurt pride, he wants to make you his son-in-law when we get back. You can take your pick among his remaining daughters. She’ll bring a huge dowry with her, including the lordship of seven handsome towns with all their lands, flocks and cattle.’

  Achilles glanced away. ‘I seem to recall that Agamemnon makes free with my name when he thinks of marriage for his daughters.’

  Odysseus, who had always considered that element in the offer injudicious, expressed his embarrassment now by opening his hands in a wry, deferential gesture. Ajax said, ‘Think about it, cousin. All this is yours for the taking. All Agamemnon asks in return is that you come back and fight at his side.’

  Achilles flicked a hot ember from the fire and smiled across at Patroclus. ‘Anyone might think that the King of Men was desperate!’ Then he turned his cold gaze on Odysseus again. ‘Does Agamemnon think I’m a mere bondsman to be bought and sold?’

  ‘He knows you’re not. He thinks that . . .’

  But Achilles interrupted him. ‘If there’s one thing I loathe above everything else, it’s a man who thinks one thing and says another, so let me be straight with you -- as he has never been with me. You brought me here, Odysseus. You know what I’ve done for the Argive cause. You know how many battles I’ve turned, how many cities have fallen before me, how much plunder I’ve brought back and laid at Agamemnon’s feet. You also know what I’ve been given for my trouble. I’ve been humiliated before the host. I’ve seen my woman taken from me and put to his foul uses. And who cares if she was a captive of my spear? -- I loved Briseis dearly and her loss to me was as grievous as the insult to my honour.’ He turned his fierce gaze on Odysseus. ‘Have the sons of Atreus forgotten why we set out on this misbegotten enterprise? Wasn’t it to help one of them recover the woman that was stolen from him? Do they think they’re the only men who care about their wives? No, my friend, I’ve seen the Lion of Mycenae for the ungrateful and falsehearted oaf that he is.’

  ‘The man has his faults,’ Odysseus conceded. ‘I’m not about to deny it. But so do we all. Isn’t that why we need each other -- to compensate for each other’s weaknesses?’

  ‘Then if he wants to save his ships he must look to you and the other lords to help him. As for me and my friends -- tomorrow we put to sea. With luck, three days should see us back in Thessaly. So tell this to your king -- it was he who first broke faith with me and if he offered me all the treasure of Egyptian Thebes, I wouldn’t serve him. I want no part of his bribes.’

  Odysseus nodded and sighed. ‘I told him you would say that, and I’m glad to see I was right. But aren’t you forgetting something yourself? Didn’t you come to Troy in quest of honour? It seems a pity to leave with little of it gained.’

  ‘At least it’s not lost,’ Achilles answered stiffly ‘So don’t ask me to sully it again by fighting at his side. I am for home, gentlemen. If you’re wise, you will cram your ships with spoil and follow me.’ Fat crackled and spat among the embers of the fire. The wind off the sea shook the leather flap over the door. Otherwise there was only silence.

  Odysseus had known that this was how it would be. He knew that Achilles was no more likely to accept these terms than Agamemnon had been inclined to accept Priam’s offer of the previous day. Now he was cursing quietly to himself in the knowledge that he was surrounded by obdurate men who would watch the world burn sooner than admit that they were wrong.

  How condignly Achilles and Agamemnon deserved one another, he thought, in their differing postures of stupidity. But if disaster was to be avoided, there was still a job to be done, and for the moment he could see no way of doing it, for he could find no chink in this young man’s armoured pride.

  To his surprise it was Phoenix who broke the silence.

  ‘I’ve listened to you, Lord Achilles,’ the old Myrmidon said quietly, ‘and I’ve kept my silence. But I’ve known and loved you since you were a boy and I believe my love earns me the right to speak. I understand your anger. I’ve shared it with you. But a time must come for it to end.’

  Achilles sought to silence him. ‘This is not the time, Phoenix.’ But the old man would not be deterred. ‘A man should be wary of refusing an apology when it’s offered. He can offend the gods that way and bring a worse fate down on his head. I think you would do better to think less of your hatred for Agamemnon and more of your love for your friends. Stand beside them in battle again and they’ll give you more in love and honour than the Lord of Mycenae could ever take away.’

  Odysseus saw the flicker of irritation and uncertainty in Achilles’ eyes. Sensing a shift, he gave another push. ‘The truth is, I have little more respect for Agamemnon than you do these days, but Phoenix is right -- come back and fight for your friends, not for him, and they’ll honour you like a god.’

  Achilles frowned. ‘My friend Phoenix would do well to remember that I place no great weight on the good opinion of the Argives. His duty is to stand by me.’

  Phoenix lowered his eyes and withdrew into the shadows. Odysseus looked to Patroclus who avoided his eyes and glanced uncomfortably away. Thinking quickly, he made one last throw. ‘Well, I understand your position -- but it seems a great pity. If ever there was a chance to win immortal glory, it must surely be now when Hector thinks there is no one in the Argive lines to stand against him.’

  For a moment he thought he had caught him. Achilles hesitated. The pupils of his eyes were moving quickly, and Odysseus could almost hear the fierce young man recalling the prophecy that his life would be short if he fought at Troy but his glory would live for ever. He tried to project into Achilles’ mind a picture of him standing in triumph over the body of Hector, but there were already other pictures there -- of Agamemnon smirking as Achilles returned to the battle, of the humiliation of going back on his word before the entire Argive host.

  Achilles frowned impatiently. ‘I have said what I have said. Not unless Hector comes against my Myrmidons and my ships will I raise my weapons against him.’

  Ajax, who had sat in apprehensive silence, released his frustration now. ‘Come, Lord Odysseus,’ he snapped, ‘we are clearly wasting our time here. We should get back and think what dispositions we must make now that Achilles has failed us.’ He got to his feet and stared down, shaking his head, at the proud young man. ‘I’ve always loved and admired you, son of Peleus, but this stubborn petulance baffles me. Even in cases of murder, men will accept blood-money to end a feud, yet here -- in a stupid quarrel over a woman -- you turn your back on your friends and refuse to hear reason. Well, so be it. I’d rather go down fighting in defeat than stand here pleading a moment longer.’

  Shortly afterwards, Odysseus and Ajax returned to report the failure of their mission. They left a prolonged and uneasy silence in the lodge of Achilles.

  So prodigal were the terms of Agamemnon’s offer that he had not contemplated the possibility that Achilles might reject it, and the news of the refusal left him aghast at first. But when Diomedes castigated him for having tried to make concessions to the
intransigent young man, the shock tipped him out of gloom into a vainglorious ecstasy of rage. Let the next day come -- he would show that arrogant little shit how a true fighting man comported himself when the odds were against him.

  His spirits were lifted by the events of the night. A Trojan scout was captured and, working on information forced out of him before his throat was cut, Odysseus led a marauding raid on a loosely guarded stretch of the enemy lines, broke through a corral and ran off an entire string of Thracian horses. So Agamemnon armed himself for battle next day fortified by the knowledge that the enemy’s mobility would be significantly impaired. But he knew that his situation was still so desperate that only an overwhelming counter-attack could redeem it. To inspire his forces he would have to lead it himself, so he steeled his nerves and urged his chariot at the Trojan host with mindless courage.

  Having smashed his way through the volleying spears, he came across the chariot in which Priam’s son Antiphus was driven by his bastard half-brother Isus. Isus went down under Agamemnon’s spear and then his sword crashed into the side of Antiphus’ head with such force that he was knocked out of the chariot. As if possessed by a vision of his own invulnerability, Agamemnon pushed on, with his infantrymen shouting at his back. They drove the Trojans off the high ground and half-way back towards the city walls before Hector managed to rally them. But the Argives were within sight of the Scaean Gate and Agamemnon was roaring at the smell of victory when he was caught unawares by a spear thrust through the arm.

  For a time not even that wound could deter him. He struck down his assailant and pushed on, hacking at the enemies around him until the muscles of his arm suddenly seized and he was forced to order his driver to pull back. Above the din of the struggle he shouted to his captains to fight on, but the impetus of the attack had been driven by his reckless battle-ardour, and the force went out of it when the Argives saw their leader in retreat. Hector gave a great shout of encouragement to his own men and led them in such a powerful counterassault that almost everywhere the Argives were thrust back across the plain.

  All along the line, men were on the run, scrambling and stumbling, dropping their shields in the rush to get away. Some were crushed by the chariots as they ran, others fell under blows that darkened their eyes for ever. Odysseus leapt from his chariot and tried to halt the rout near the burial-mound of Ilus. He was joined there by Diomedes who caught sight of Hector and hurled his spear. The point struck Hector’s helmet with a glancing blow that left him briefly dazed. Once again the battle might have turned in that moment, but Paris had returned to the field armed with his favourite weapon. He put an arrow to his bow, released it, and thought it was about to fall short until he heard Diomedes shout with pain. The arrow had pierced him through the foot, pinning him to the ground. Odysseus sprang to protect his comrade while the wounded man pulled out the arrow and limped into his chariot to be carried away.

  Odysseus was now isolated with his small company, and fighting like a bayed boar to hold off the ring of Trojans who were threatening to encircle his position.

  He had cut down five men before a spear penetrated his shield and tore through his armour to cut a gash in his side. Wincing with pain he managed to pull out the spear and hurl it back at his attacker, but then he was forced to give ground with blood streaming down his thigh. His cousin Sinon sprang at once to his defence, but Menelaus, who had taken command of Agamemnon’s Mycenaeans on his left, had also seen him take the wound. Calling to Ajax for support, he drove to the rescue of the struggling Ithacan and pulled him up into his chariot while Ajax and his brother Teucer held the Trojans back.

  Three of the Argive commanders were now out of the fight, and as each of them was carried away from the front, the men around them lost heart. Ajax held his ground as long as he could but he was exposed and outnumbered, and his nerve was shaken when he looked around and saw that it couldn’t be long before the whole Argive host was thrust back over the ditch and through the palisade. In all the long years of the war their position had never been so desperate.

  Knowing that if Agamemnon’s forces were routed, they might soon be fighting in defence of their own ships, the Myrmidons had been keeping careful watch on as much of the battle as they could see from the western end of the palisade. When Achilles saw Nestor driving his chariot from the field at great speed, he decided to send Patroclus to get a report on how things stood with the Argive cause.

  Glad of the chance to act, Patroclus ran along the strand to Nestor’s lodge, where he found the old man caring for the army’s chief surgeon Machaon, who was bleeding profusely from an arrow wound in his thigh. ‘Paris did this to him,’ Nestor panted. ‘I had to get him away. We’re going to be in dire need of his services. Agamemnon, Diomedes and Odysseus have all taken wounds. Ajax is trying to hold the Trojans back but it can’t be long before they’re at the wall.’ He looked up from the wound with an angry scowl. ‘No doubt your friend will take satisfaction from the news.’

  At that moment there was a great shout at the main gate of the stockade and a panic-stricken body of men came bursting through. Even as their officers urged them up onto the parapet to defend those coming after them, some of them made a run for the ships. Nestor looked up at Patroclus, white-faced. ‘Hector must be near the ditch. We need your help, son of Menoetius. Your father is my good friend, and I know he would die of shame if he saw you standing idle while your comrades are cut down. We need the Myrmidons. Go to Achilles. Tell him what’s happening. If you speak, he’ll listen. Tell him that if he doesn’t bring his aid to us now, he will live to regret it for ever.’

  Though he shared his proud friend’s sense of injury, Patroclus had stayed out of the fight only from a fierce loyalty to Achilles. He had been biting his tongue with frustration when Odysseus and Ajax came on their mission to the lodge, for like Phoenix, he believed there was now far more at stake than wounded vanity. He knew that he was not alone among the Myrmidons in wanting to forget the quarrel and get back to the fight, but Patroclus was also troubled by the knowledge that, unlike Achilles, he had taken the oath at Sparta. He was sworn to the aid of Menelaus as Achilles was not, and the quarrel with Agamemnon had opened a deep divide in his loyalties.

  That divide had suddenly become too wide for him to bridge. He nodded to Nestor now, gave him his word that he would do all he could to persuade Achilles to order his men back into the battle, and sprinted back down the strand.

  Not long after he had left, Agamemnon, Odysseus and Diomedes staggered across to Nestor’s lodge to find out what was happening beyond the wall. All three of them were in pain from the wounds they carried, and when Agamemnon learned how far the situation had deteriorated, his nerve failed him once again. For a stunned moment, the others listened in silence as he shouted that the gods were against them and they must do what they could to avoid destruction. ‘We should at least get the first line of ships out to sea. They can stand off the coast until we see how things are going.’

  Odysseus said. ‘If the men see you taking to the ships they’ll panic and the Trojans will be all over them.’

  Diomedes nodded his agreement. ‘I haven’t fought here for ten years merely to forsake my friends at the end.’

  ‘Nor I,’ said Nestor.

  Agamemnon turned away, clutching his wounded arm and staring at the ships.

  For a vivid moment earlier that day, he thought he had broken through. He could see his glory in front of him like a bright torch urging him on. Proud men had fallen before him. He had seen their chariots smashed, heard their horses scream, watched them die in agonies of disbelief. And then, out of nowhere, that spear thrust had sapped his strength and once again he was confronted by ruin. It seemed that everywhere he turned he must be blocked and opposed - if not by the enemy, then by his own fractious captains, and if not by them, then by the capricious gods themselves. He might have stood on the strand bellowing like a wounded bull had he not been conscious of the three men staring at him.

  ‘T
hose ships are full of booty,’ he said. ‘At least if we get them away we can fight again.’ But seeing only contempt around him, he looked away. ‘If anyone has a better plan, I will be pleased to hear it.’

  ‘There is only one honourable course,’ Diomedes answered, ‘to fight and keep on fighting, as Menelaus and Ajax are fighting. Wounded as we are we can’t do much ourselves, but we can at least urge on our friends with our presence at the wall. And if it’s the will of the gods that the Argives are defeated, then we can stand and die with them between the Trojans and the sea.’

  Even as they were talking, the great double-gateway through the palisade was being closed against Hector’s advance. Many retreating Argives were left trapped outside the gates, outnumbered and desperate, and they were swiftly cut down. The Trojans began battering at the gates and though the timbers splintered and groaned, the bar behind them held. In an inspiration of fury, Hector lifted a huge boulder and hurled it at the gate. One of the hinges broke and the gate at that side sagged far enough for the attackers to get a purchase on it. Minutes later the gate was down. With a huge shout of triumph, Hector stepped through and when the Trojan warriors followed him the Argives fell back like men in fear of an oncoming flood. Moments later they turned and ran for the ships.

  A detachment of Locrian archers had been posted by the ships as a last line of defence. They raised their bows now and released a volley of arrows that brought the advancing Trojans to a staggering halt. But Hector had gone unscathed. He turned to urge his troops on, shouting that they would break through the wall of men confronting them just as they had broken through the wall of wood. Heartened by his cry, the Trojans charged again. At different points along the buckling Argive line, Idomeneus, Menelaus and Ajax rallied the ranks to meet them, and the ground between the palisade and the ships shook under the convulsive impact of thousands of men.