The Anger of Achilles

by Peter Tonkin

  ‘Your Royal Highness,’ said Odysseus to the princess by way of farewell, then he led me out into the megaron once more.

  The megaron throne room was all-but empty now, so it was easy for me to see its size and design. Like many others I had visited since joining captain Odysseus’ crew, it was a large, square, high-ceilinged space with a tiled floor and brightly painted walls, well suited to royal audiences, the entertainment of visiting dignitaries and the holding of stately feasts. The ceiling was covered with both paint and tile except for a gaping section in the middle of it which stood open. Immediately below this lay the bed of a circular fire, now ironically dead and cold in the midst of all the blazing heat outside. Four brightly coloured columns stood around this, one at each corner of a square whose edges the curves of the fire-pit just reached.

  There was a range of openings leading off the megaron. The one we had just come through from the princess’s prison, of course, and the one, on my right, that led into the passage where Princess Briseis had faced Prince Aias. Straight ahead was the opening to the area where Odysseus had talked to Achilles – the propylon vestibule to the palace’s main temple. This seemed to be dedicated to the God of the Sky, a powerful, bearded being, a little like the Achaean great god Zeus if his effigy was anything to go by, though other nearby cities obviously worshipped gods who were even more familiar to us. High King Agamemnon’s captive from the nearby city of Thebe, for instance, was daughter to Chryses the High Priest of Apollo.

  On the far side of the megaron, straight ahead of me, along the wall behind me, and further away on my left, opposite that main entrance from the reception area, there were other openings. These, no doubt would lead into a rabbit warren of further rooms and passageways if my experience of other palaces and citadels was any guide. The palaces I knew best at Phthia and Skyros were almost as famous as those at Mycenae, Pylos and Tiryns but this palace of King Euenos at Lyrnessus seemed larger and more complex than any I had visited.

  Odysseus and I followed Elpenor and Perimedes across the megaron, turning left to skirt the fire-pit, then proceeding to the rear of the great room and entering a passageway which obviously led into the domestic sections of the place, where the royal family, their nearest relatives, most important functionaries, their servants and slaves were housed – those who did not live in the ants’ nest of streets and dwellings immediately outside the palace but still within the walls of the citadel. Even on this level, the place seemed vast, split into two as it clearly was. One half for men and the other half for women, I guessed. Like many other cities on the eastern islands and the Trojan shore, Lyrnessus sat uneasily between the Achaean traditions and the Anatolian ones, clearly displayed in the relationships between the peoples and their gods, but also between the sexes and family life. Odysseus, Menelaus and Agamemnon all had one wife and few children of either sex, sharing their palaces with them demanding little or no separation.

  King Priam in Troy, on the other hand, had a harem which he kept isolated in discrete women’s quarters such as these, and was father to more than fifty children, nineteen with Hecuba, his senior consort. Under most circumstances, entry to the women’s quarters would be strictly forbidden and the women within them would only appear in public heavily veiled, as was the case, for instance in King Lycomedes’ court on Skyros. It was yet another aspect to Briseis’ bravery, now I thought of it, to confront her would-be rapist with her face uncovered – obviously to make clear the threat to cut her own throat. But as we proceeded, my thoughts returned to those parts of the palace we were hurrying towards. Almost certainly, as well as the accommodation, there would be store-rooms of all sorts, I calculated. And, somewhere below this level, the excavations that housed the citadel’s main water supply where yet more rooms suited to a range of purposes might be found.

  Elpenor and Perimedes led us through the widest of the openings, out of the megaron and straight into a shadowy passageway which in turn had openings gaping on each side. As we passed them, these revealed rooms of various sizes decorated in a range of styles and richness. It was clear the rapacious Locrians had not reached here yet. Nor were they likely to – the rooms containing the richest furnishings each had a pair of Myrmidons stationed at the doorway. Right at the end of the corridor, the doorway opened into the most richly furnished room of all. To begin with, I supposed that this was why the Myrmidon guards had been joined by their princely general. But the expression on Achilles’ face when he turned made me think again. ‘What is this?’ he asked Odysseus. ‘Do you know what this is, old friend?’

  Odysseus stepped right into the room and I followed him. To discover, right at the back, beside a window looking out across the agora and the destruction lying beyond it, a chair so ornate that it was clearly designed to be a throne. Its occupant, hunched and grey-haired, was also wearing a circlet of gold that might well pass for a coronet or a crown. And, indeed, it soon became clear that the man sitting in it, looking listlessly out across the burning ruin, was a king.

  Odysseus stepped forward, paused with unaccustomed hesitation, and spoke. ‘Majesty?’ he said gently. ‘Your majesty?’

  The grey head with its royal diadem did not turn.

  Odysseus took a step or two closer to the throne, moving aside a small table bearing a platter piled with honey-cakes. ‘Your majesty?’ he said again, more loudly. ‘King Euenos, it is Odysseus, King of Ithaca. I visited you here some time ago. Do you remember me?’

  v

  The man at the window stirred. His right hand tried to gather together the edges of the robe sagging wide across his chest. The grey head turned slowly, followed by the shoulders and the upper body. As it did so it revealed a broad breast covered in tight curls of white hair and the top of a pot-belly as the ineffectual fingers failed to pull his clothing closed. There were crumbs of the sweetmeats in the curls on the king’s chest, I noticed. Above the chest, there was a scraggy neck surmounted by one of the strangest faces I had ever seen. It was gaunt, grey; not so much bearded as unshaven. But that was not the strange thing. What struck me was the fact that the two halves of the king’s countenance did not match. The right side was that of a handsome, decidedly regal-looking elderly man. The left side, from forehead to chin, drooped as though it had been made of pale pork-fat that had begun to melt. The eye sagged outwards and downwards, half closed. The mouth, too, from the little central valley on the upper lip beneath the nose drooped downwards. A rivulet of spittle ran from its corner down the side of his chin. The right eye was dull but wide; a strange brown, almost gold, in colour. The left, behind those drooping lids, was as grey as the rest of his face, seemingly covered with cobwebs.

  ‘Have you ever seen anything like this?’ asked Achilles, shaken.

  ‘I have,’ said Odysseus sadly. ‘I would guess that the king’s left arm and left leg no longer function. And that his understanding is now little greater than that of a babe in arms.’ He shook his head, paused for an instant and then observed, ‘Such a visitation is terrible enough in a common man. In a king it is all too often fatal to the kingdom!’

  ‘Well, we were victorious in our siege easily enough,’ said Achilles, ‘either through your cleverness in using the spare mast to break through the gates like a charging ram or through the cowardly deception the princess spoke of. But I saw no sign of a kingdom fallen to pieces. Someone was holding the reins of power firmly enough, especially towards the end, even if it was not the unfortunate king.’

  ‘Do you think,’ I said, ‘that Princess Briseis was trying to protect poor King Euenos as much as the other members of the royal household?’

  ‘I do, now you mention it,’ nodded Odysseus. ‘A brave and desperate act! My respect for the princess grows with each new fact I discover about her.’

  ‘Did the princess talk of this when you spoke with her?’ asked Achilles, gesturing towards the stricken king.

  ‘No,’ answered Odysseus. ‘There are clearly facts about this place and her situation in it that she is no
t yet ready to discuss. However, it is quite clear that King Euenos could never have led the city’s defence, as you say. Prince Mynes must have been in command – unless, as the princess told us, he, his brother and his brothers-in-law were also somehow incapacitated at some stage during the siege.’

  ‘Who would have organised the defences then?’ wondered Achilles.

  ‘I don’t know who commanded in the lower city or the citadel,’ said Odysseus. ‘But it’s pretty clear to me who led the final stand here in the palace.’

  ‘Not King Euenos,’ said Achilles.

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘the king could not possibly look after himself given the state he seems to be in, let alone command a last stand. But I assume there must have been people here tending him. Maybe they will know some of the things the princess does not want to tell us.’ A thought struck me. ‘If they are still alive, that is…’

  Achilles gave a grim chuckle. ‘A good point, lad. But no, you needn’t have worried. Even Aias’ Locrians have only been killing enemy soldiers. Largely because there’s no-one else around out there, I suspect. The people we found here in the palace are all still breathing. And, by my best guess, they are everyone of importance in the city who was not directly under arms and involved in its defence.’

  ‘Good,’ said Odysseus. ‘Where are they? I’d like to talk to some of them.’

  ***

  Behind the main palace building was a huge courtyard. One side was walled with the rear of the palace itself and the other three sides by the defensive walls of the final redoubt. The back wall had a solid-looking gate in it which would have seen off all but the most determined attack had it been closed and manned. It was neither, but it was guarded by yet more Myrmidons. How many men and women, boys and girls were crowded into the space I could not begin to guess. They were ringed with those massive Myrmidons and clearly, understandably terrified. The passageway we had followed opened onto a raised section with a couple of steps down into the yard. The commander of these Myrmidons was standing there. He turned as we arrived and I recognised General Peisander, one of the five senior Myrmidon commanders under Achilles. He saluted the golden prince. ‘These are all we could find with the first sweep,’ he said. ‘But the palace is a warren. There are rooms we haven’t got to yet and more potential prisoners, I’m sure. We haven’t started sorting out who’s who or what’s what yet. But at least this lot all seem to understand Achaean if you need to talk to any of them.’

  As we’d approached, I had heard the noise they were making but when Achilles, Odysseus and the rest of us appeared they fell silent. Odysseus looked at them for a moment, mulling over General Peisander’s words, then called, ‘I would like those of you who have been tending King Euenos to come to the front, please.’

  The silence persisted. No-one moved.

  ‘Don’t be frightened,’ Odysseus continued ‘I have discussed matters with Princess Briseis and I want to talk to those of you who have been tending Prince Mynes’ father. No harm will come to you, I swear on my honour.’

  ‘What honour can we expect from men like you?’ called an anonymous voice. I could not tell whether it belonged to a man or a woman; nor where it had come from. The black-clad guards stepped threateningly forward and a tense silence settled once again.

  But Odysseus seemed certain. ‘That sounds as though she’s been talking to Briseis,’ he whispered to Achilles who made a gesture and the Myrmidons who had stepped forward when the woman called out stepped back again.

  By way of reply to Odysseus’ observation, the Prince of Phthia simply growled, his smouldering anger clearly rekindled.

  ‘You place us in an awkward position,’ said Odysseus loudly, his voice dripping with regret, as though he was an actor in a tragic play. ‘We are simple soldiers. We know nothing about caring for men struck down by the gods be they kings or commoners. But we have much to do here and little time to do it. Nor do we have men to spare any more than we have any time in hand. If we cannot help his majesty then we will have to dispose of him so that we can carry on. And as I’m sure you will appreciate, being kings and princes ourselves we would prefer to see King Euenos tended rather than executed.’

  The crowd stirred and, with much muttering and whispered warnings, it parted. A square-bodied, broad-shouldered woman of uncertain years pushed herself to the front. ‘I look after the poor man,’ she said, her accent thick but her words clear enough. ‘He’s as harmless as a baby. He can present no threat to you. You have no call to kill him.’ She looked around her assembled companions. ‘No more than you have reason to hurt any of us.’

  Someone behind this woman said, ‘No… Hepat…’

  The woman apparently called Hepat swung right round to address the nervous crowd. ‘Someone has to look after the poor man or they’ll kill him! He might not have long before the gods take him but I’ll not have it on my conscience that I could have helped him but I didn’t! Khloe, Thalia, you’ll be helping too.’

  ‘They clearly breed decisive women in Lyrnessus,’ observed Odysseus as Hepat and her two helpers came towards us and, with no hesitation at all, came up beside us, heading for the stricken king’s chamber. ‘Wait,’ said Odysseus. He pulled a ring off his finger. ‘Show this to the guards, otherwise they’ll never let you in.’

  Hepat took it with a nod and hurried on towards the building. Then, she turned at the entrance to the corridor. ‘And the Princess?’ she demanded. ‘What have you done with Princess Briseis?’

  ‘The princess is quite safe,’ answered Odysseus. ‘She is in a comfortable room a few doors up from the king, waiting to have further discussions with us.’

  ‘I can imagine what those will involve, after what she has said and done.’ Hepat stormed away, followed by her two terrified young helpers. Odysseus watched her go with a pensive look. In the meantime, Achilles turned to General Peisander. ‘Now that we seem to have established who the most important women here are,’ he said, ‘have we any idea whether there are any important men? Members of the royal family? Priests? Warriors - there always seem to be a few who steal away from the battle when things start going downhill. Citizens. Influential merchants, city fathers, men like that?’

  ‘I’d be surprised if you find royalty at least,’ said Odysseus with an air of finality. ‘Or anyone who can actually show you the whole picture. Given everything that’s happened so far and everything Princess Briseis has said – and not said – there’s been a great deal going on here that we’ll be lucky if we ever understand!’

  Achilles gave a grunt that might have passed for a laugh. ‘I see your point. But if anyone can ever get to the bottom of it all, Odysseus, that man will be you.’

  2: The Temple

  i

  ‘In the meantime, let’s try and see what we can discover here and now,’ said Achilles. ‘Carry on, General.’

  General Peisander gestured and two of the Myrmidons pulled someone forward. He was a plump man of middle height and years. His whole person seemed at war with itself, partly puffed with self-importance which was clearly enhanced by his selection from the crowd, and partly wishing to become invisible before we terrifying Achaeans decided upon some horrific mode of death for him. ‘I understand that this man is named Demir,’ said Peisander. ‘He is – was – one of the royal family’s chief advisors. In matters of finance and policy, I would guess; he is clearly not a war leader. Not even a soldier. I believe that amongst his other responsibilities he is what we would call oikonomos the chef steward or major domo of the palace.’

  Odysseus and Achilles looked down at the man, who was seemingly finding their footwear fascinating. ‘Demir,’ said Odysseus to the balding top of his bowed head. ‘Do you speak Achaean?’

  ‘I am conversant with your Argive language, Majesty. And I recognise you from your previous visit here,’ Demir mumbled breathlessly.

  ‘I remember meeting King Euenos in better days, talking with his sons Mynes and Ephistrophos who were twins if I remember rightly though Mynes w
as the elder by a natter of moments and the crown prince therefore. Then there were men from the council, war leaders and so forth,’ said Odysseus. ‘But I do not remember you.’

  ‘Nor would you, Majesty. I was of little account in those days.’ Demir’s head went further down. His plump shoulders sagged. ‘The king was still in mourning for his poor wife, dead in childbirth more than ten years earlier, and had yet to notice me.’

  ‘Ah, yes. I had forgotten about the poor queen. But I see that you have risen since,’ nodded Odysseus. ‘Of course with greater authority comes greater responsibility.’

  Demir remained silent at this observation, but his gaze flashed up from the ground to meet Odysseus’ for a heartbeat. The chief steward had bulbous, mud-brown eyes that seemed calculating, perhaps cunning. His hair and beard were oiled in the eastern fashion. I was mildly surprised to note that he had been allowed to keep not only his fine robes but also the badges of office hanging round his neck, which he was currently holding in place with his left hand.

  The sight of Demir’s insignia made Odysseus look thoughtful. Abruptly, he turned to me. ‘On reflection I find I don’t quite trust Hepat,’ he said quietly. ‘I may have taken a step too far giving her my ring. Why don’t you go and see what she and her helpers are actually doing? Try not to let them see you or they’ll stop whatever they might be up to.’

  I nodded breathlessly, turned at once and began to follow in Hepat’s footsteps back into the palace. Of course, I understood well enough why Odysseus had chosen me for his secret mission. On the one hand, his only alternative would be to send one of his Cephallenian soldiers or Achilles’ Myrmidons. Men from either army were highly unlikely to fade into the background and go unobserved. On the other hand, I was easy to overlook. He would also have been well aware of the damage done to my self-esteem by Princess Briseis’ insulting words and he was offering me a chance to repair it, especially if I could discover the princess or her cohorts in some sort of mischief. Also, of course, all of the door-guards had already seen me in the company of Odysseus and Achilles so they wouldn’t stop me going about the assignment Odysseus had tasked me with. I continued to follow the path Hepat had taken back into the palace, therefore, hoping I presented a picture of innocence in the unlikely event that anyone would pay me any particular attention.