Paris was slain by another skilled bowman, whose arrows caused foul-smelling, incurable wounds. Still Troy resisted, and time was not on the side of the Achaeans. They were exhausted, and they longed to go home. They risked everything on a ruse that Odysseus had come up with: the wooden horse.
The Achaeans pretended to sail away, but they left behind a huge wooden horse, with some of their best warriors hiding in its belly. The Trojans couldn’t resist pulling the horse into the city, whereupon they ate and drank to celebrate their victory. When they eventually lay down in their beds, the Achaeans emerged from inside the horse and slaughtered them as they slept.
Menelaus, Helen’s betrayed husband, stormed into her chamber with his sword at the ready, determined to kill her and restore his honor by spilling her warm blood on the cold stone floor. She was waiting for him with her hair swept up in “the executioner’s style,” leaving her neck exposed, and she was wearing a long white dress. She opened it and pointed to her heart.
“This is where the fault lies,” she said.
Menelaus the slayer of men was dazzled by her face, her throat, and her bosom, and the sword fell from his hand. Beauty conquered both the man and his rage.
It took the Achaeans several days to destroy the city completely. They razed it to the ground, and only Hecuba could be seen wandering the deserted streets singing her mournful songs.
How did it go for those who had survived that terrible war?
Andromache was forced to go with Achilles’s son.
Odysseus began his long journey back to the island of Ithaca.
Agamemnon was murdered by his wife when he arrived home.
Homer didn’t care about any of this. He wanted to talk about one thing and one thing only: the fact that war is a source of tears, and that there can be no victors.
________________
The siege of Troy was over.
The war in which we were living went on.
We were on our way home when British planes appeared over the village. The German airfield was set on fire. A plane that managed to take off was immediately shot down. It landed in the middle of the square, where people had gathered as usual. Many died, and several more were injured.
Dimitra’s father—who became twice himself when he was drunk—was struck in the middle of the forehead by a piece of metal and died instantly. Dimitra suffered a deep laceration in her right thigh.
Miss Marina was shot as she ran to the wreckage of the plane to help Wolfgang out. They died in the flames together.
That was the last day of the great war.
It was also the last war for my father. My grandmother eventually found out that he had died in jail. No one knew where he was buried or if he had been buried at all.
Maybe he was just tossed into some ravine to feed the vultures and the wolves.
We never got to say goodbye to him.
I never got to hear his last words.
Instead I had to take care of my mother.
But I wasn’t alone. In the end Dimitra and I became what we were meant to be. We became a couple. I went to her house every day and helped her take a few steps.
“You’re my crutch,” she would say.
I knew I was more than that.
I also knew she was my crutch.
It wasn’t long before a new war began.
The worst war of all. Greek against Greek, brother against brother, father against son.
The Trojan War had simply changed its name.
Dimitra and I would survive this too.
Every Sunday afternoon we went to the churchyard and tended the graves. Dimitra’s father was lying there, Miss Marina was lying there.
In the distance we could see the village, with the lamps being lit one by one.
Our mothers were waiting for us.
AFTERWORD
Ever since I was in high school The Iliad has touched my imagination and aroused my admiration. In my eyes it is the strongest anti-war poem ever written. Unfortunately a great many people find it difficult to read. There is nothing wrong with the translations. The problem is that these days we do not stimulate, do not enable the demanding reading that The Iliad offers.
For several years I wondered whether it might be possible to do something about that—which is what I have tried to do now. Blasphemy? Perhaps. Hubris? No. I had absolutely no intention of trying to replace Homer.
I just wanted more people to get to know him.
The reader must decide whether I have succeeded.
Two individuals have contributed well-founded and insightful comments: my friend and colleague Ernst Brunner, and Ida Östenberg, Associate Professor of Classical Archaeology and Ancient History.
Warm and heartfelt thanks to you both.
Theodor Kallifatides
Bungenäs, Sweden, August 21, 2017
The Siege of Troy Page 15