The Anger of Achilles

by Peter Tonkin

  ‘Of course Hepat would pass it on to you,’ Odysseus continued, distracting me, ‘in order to give you the freedom of action you need to undertake the next part of your plan. Which is, I assume, to escape from the city before your part in its defence is discovered, taking as many of your helpers and anyone else at risk along with you. Then, I would calculate, to travel to Myletus in order to join King Sarpedon of Lycea, a risky five-day sail south of here but I doubt that would put you off. Especially as you would be carrying with you as much intelligence about our strength and siege techniques as you can amass.’

  He paused again, but she still offered no reply except that cold grey stare.

  ‘Myletus is where I assume you or your late husband have already sent all of your subjects not needed for the defence of the city as well as any refugees fleeing this way from Agamemnon’s attack on Thebe,’ Odysseus concluded. ‘Only a fool prepares for a siege by allowing their supernumeraries to stay as extra mouths to feed and thirsts to quench. That is the reason, I suspect, that Prince Aias’ Locrians are having difficulty finding throats to cut, bodies to ravish and citizens to enslave out in the lower city at least. But I must admit I felt I was on solid ground when I assumed you would not escape quite yet because your husband and brothers had to be here somewhere, living or dead. And, in the unlikely event that you would be willing to leave them without the requisite funeral rituals in order to save yourself and pass on your vital information, once I had met your late husband’s father I knew you would never leave the old king helpless and alone in our hands.’

  ‘Very clever!’ sneered Briseis at last.

  Odysseus blandly took her sarcasm at face value. ‘Thank you, your highness. A royal compliment is always welcome. But am I clever enough I wonder?’

  Once again, she was trapped by his seemingly innocent words and their emollient tone. ‘Clever enough for what?’ she demanded.

  ‘To separate what is really going on here from all the other distractions – and then to solve the riddle it poses both on your behalf and on that of Achilles, who, I repeat, is absolutely innocent of any dishonourable duplicity.’

  ‘On my behalf?’

  ‘Of course. Unless there is even more that you aren’t telling me than I suspect there is, then you have no idea who has killed your family, or how at least in part, or – besides the obvious – why.’

  ‘Besides the obvious…’

  ‘As you yourself quite rightly stated, at least a part of the reason must have been to make Lyrnessus fall more easily – if thoroughly dishonourably - into our Achaean hands.’

  After a moment’s silence while all three of us – I suspect – considered the undeniable truth of that statement, Odysseus continued. ‘But who would do such a thing?’

  ‘Citizens with a sufficient grudge to turn traitor?’ I suggested.

  ‘No-one could bear a grudge against Mynes,’ she said at once. ‘Everybody loved him as they had loved his father until the gods struck him down.’ She glared at Odysseus, who raised his eyebrows as though questioning the truth of her assertion. ‘Lyrnessus was a place of peace and contentment until Agamemnon’s Achaeans showed up!’

  ‘Someone desperate enough to turn traitor for a bribe?’ I persisted.

  ‘Which begs the question, who would offer such a bribe and how would it be paid,’ the princess snapped at me while still glancing at my general as though her looks were spears.

  ‘An outsider would offer it on behalf of the Achaeans,’ I suggested, ‘though I admit that at that moment I cannot quite see how.’

  Odysseus took my suggestion a little further. ‘And you have been entertaining outsiders, have you not, before you sent them south to Sarpedon…’

  ‘The refugees from Thebe, you mean,’ said Briseis. ‘Could some of them be Achaean agents in disguise? More dishonour again. Have you people no idea of how disgraceful such stratagems are?’

  ***

  ‘Of course Agamemnon could use Theban refugees as agents, especially given how much time and substance besieging Thebe for so long actually took.’ Odysseus shook his head in sorrow that such unheroic and underhanded things could be true. ‘And, given the chance or motivation, some men would be prepared to do anything he bribed them to do. It is only a small step from revealing vital secrets to opening city gates. From opening city gates to making sure the defenders’ leaders are incapable of defending them in any case.

  ‘Or of breathing,’ I added, to clarify his point.

  ‘But I doubt even our overpoweringly ambitious High King would stoop so low,’ said Odysseus.

  ‘Though he was willing to sacrifice his daughter Iphigeneia to ensure we had fair winds from Aulis,’ I pointed out.’

  ‘True, though the circumstances may have constrained him.’ Odysseus said, glancing at me. Then he looked at Briseis once more. ‘Do you know precisely how your husband and brothers met their ends?’ he asked.

  ‘No. Not even though I nursed Mynes and Ephistrophos with the help of Hepat and her women, not to mention our priests who importuned the gods. My brothers were beyond help when they were brought to us. Their wounds were fatal.’

  ‘Fatal and identical from what I can make out,’ said Odysseus.

  ‘But we had further help when things began to move out of our hands.’ Briseis paused and drew a shaky breath. Refusing to rise to his bait about her brothers. ‘All to no avail. I oversaw the preparations for their funerals,’ she said. ‘I attended while the priests of Teshub performed the rites here and I could see nothing strange or suspicious beyond the sickness that had claimed Mynes and his brother. The priests said it was the hands of the old gods. As to my brothers, I understand that it is common practise for the victor to despatch the defeated opponent in this way, though I of course have had blessedly limited experience of such things. That’s what our soldiers told me at any rate. And the priests.’

  Odysseus glanced back at the winged statue looming at his back. ‘The priests of Teshub?’ he asked.

  ‘The old god of storms, earthquakes and the sea.’

  ‘He sounds like our great god Poseidon,’ said Odysseus.

  ‘Also of the cold depths and the lands below; consort to Lelwani, Goddess of the Dead. They are associated with the Dipsioi, the thirsty ones who drink the souls of the dying. He watches over Lyrnessus. Or he has done in the past.’ Her tone was dry, matter-of-fact. ‘Neither he nor Anu, God of the sky whose temple is above this one, have held their hands over us recently.’

  ‘And where are these priests now?’ Odysseus wondered. ‘I saw no priests out in the courtyard behind the palace.’

  ‘Gone,’ she shrugged.

  ‘Gone where?’ His brow furrowed. Suspicion quickened in his eyes.

  ‘If they didn’t go with the refugees,’ I said, ‘and they can’t have done so if they were here while Prince Mynes and his brothers were preparing the city’s defences and then stayed to prepare their corpses, then they’ll have used the secret pathways out through the walls. If they’ve really gone and aren’t just hiding somewhere.’

  Both Odysseus and Briseis looked at me sceptically. ‘Secret pathways?’ echoed the princess, her tone heavy with disbelief.

  ‘What secret pathways, lad?’ asked Odysseus.

  ‘Tunnels for the most part,’ I said. ‘Leading under the walls or sometimes through them. I know of several passing in and out of Troy and I assumed that all the cities here on the mainland probably shared the same techniques of architecture.’

  ‘On Anatolia,’ prompted Odysseus. ‘Not Achaea?’

  Now it was my turn to demonstrate a little knowledge and understanding. I seized the opportunity with both hands, especially as I was hoping to demonstrate my strengths in front of the princess. ‘In Achaea, the citadels tend to sit like crowns on top of steep-sided hills that are easy to defend,’ I said. ‘Acro polis – high city,’ I emphasised for Briseis in case her understanding of arcane Achaean stopped at anapiro - cripple. ‘The rocks they stand on like the huge stones th
at wall them are so massive that legends have grown up to say that only the giant cyclops could have built them. Tunnels are almost impossible to dig through such rocks, though some citadels have subterranean watercourses and cisterns to ensure water supplies during sieges. I know this to be true of the citadel at Mycenae, and I’m sure you can think of others, General. Here things are different, however. The hills are lower, the ground softer. One city may even be built on top of the ruins of another. The walls of Troy may be famously smooth, wide and high, their gates massive and impregnable, but still there are secret ways to get in and out if you know where to look. I simply assumed that the same would be true here in Lyrnessus. The existence of this underground temple and the subterranean passages and chambers surrounding it add weight to my observations, I believe.’

  ‘This is nonsense,’ snapped Briseis.

  ‘Who would know where such tunnels might be?’ asked Odysseus, his eyes fastened speculatively on me.

  ‘The priests of Teshub, obviously, if they used them to escape,’ I answered slowly, my mind racing.

  ‘Taking their secret knowledge with them,’ said Odysseus. ‘Who else – assuming the architects and builders, be they cyclops or mere mortals, are dust and ashes themselves.’

  iv

  ‘The king and his most immediate advisers…’ I said hesitantly.

  ‘Their knowledge also seems to be beyond our grasp,’ said Odysseus, glancing at the corpses.

  ‘Unless Demir the oikonomos knows,’ I suggested. ‘As Royal Steward, he should know more about the citadel than anyone else.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ said Odysseus. ‘Yet more questions for the unfortunate Demir. Let us hope he has survived whatever Achilles and Aias have asked him to tell them.’

  ‘But you believe this?’ interrupted Briseis, her eyes fixed incredulously on Odysseus. ‘Secret tunnels! It has no more truth in it than a bedtime story a mother might tell to soothe a restless infant! How would a mere rhapsode know such things?’

  Odysseus gave the sad smile he used when I said something really stupid myself. ‘Do not underestimate my rhapsode, Princess. Before he became the young man you see here, he was a brave and successful seafarer, as well-travelled as I am myself; as widely experienced as King Nestor who sailed with Jason aboard the Argo. He knows every major port-city between Ugarit in the east and the Pillars of Hercules in the west, Egypt in the south and Colchis in the north. He knows Troy better than any man alive except for Priam and his fifty sons. And if he says there are secret tunnels leading through or under the city walls, I do not hesitate to believe him.’ He stopped, looked from one of us to the other and shrugged. Then he continued, ‘But finding any tunnels is a task for later. My most immediate concern, Princess, is to seek your permission to examine the bodies of your murdered relatives. Even if Achilles had no hand in their deaths, someone certainly did and we need to discover who that person was.’

  ‘I can see why I would want to know,’ she snapped, ‘for I believe that when I do so I will simply catch Prince Achilles in an underhanded and dishonourable trick.’

  ‘And you know why King Odysseus wants to,’ I said. ‘Because he believes he will unmask the true author of these deaths and prove Achilles innocent.’

  ‘But,’ added Odysseus, ‘I’m afraid your public accusation has added another, unforeseen element, Princess. If whoever did these murders is still here, hiding like the priests of Teshub might be if they have not escaped after all, pretending innocence, and contriving to remain unsuspected at the moment, the fact that you are causing these matters to be examined more closely might well motivate him or her to extend their field of operations.’

  ‘Meaning what?’ she demanded.

  ‘Meaning, Princess, that whoever hoped to get away with killing your relatives, might well now feel they have good reason to silence those looking into the matter and whoever is causing the investigation. In other words, to try and kill me, Prince Achilles and you.’

  ‘And me,’ I added, automatically, too concerned about being left out to think what I was saying.

  ‘Yes, lad,’ answered Odysseus, grimly amused. ‘And you too.’

  ‘But,’ I said as the full impact of the last two parts of our conversation really hit me, ‘surely we’re only in any danger if the people who killed Princess Briseis’ husband and brothers are still here in the city. How likely is that?’

  ‘Setting escape though your secret tunnels aside,’ Odysseus answered, ‘it really depends on whether they did it in expectation of some reward…’

  ‘And if they did,’ Briseis interrupted him, ‘whether that reward was to have been paid by someone who has recently arrived with the Achaean army, which would stand to reason. Someone such as Achilles…’

  ‘A good point, Princess, though we have to leave Achilles to one side for the moment as well. And you must admit that Prince Aias is a more likely candidate for any bribery and corruption. If they were expecting payment from someone in the Achaean army, and if they are still in the city waiting for payment to be made…’

  ‘Then we could all be in mortal danger,’ I concluded.

  ‘Precisely!’ said Odysseus and Briseis both at exactly the same time.

  ***

  Their unexpected unity surprised both of them and they were silent for a moment. Then Briseis seemed to make up her mind about something. She held out her fist, then turned it and opened her fingers, allowing Odysseus to pick his ring off her palm. As he did so, she began to talk. Her tone mellowed slightly and she went off on an unexpected tack. Unexpected to me at any rate. ‘The priests prepared the bodies for funeral,’ she said, ‘and I observed them as they did so as I said. I also tended Prince Mynes during his final illness but it was Hepat who really nursed him. But neither the priests nor Hepat and I could do anything in the end. Not even our physician...’

  ‘Who is your physician?’ asked Odysseus gently.

  ‘This is – was – a fighting court,’ said Briseis proudly, ‘full of warriors, well trained in the arts of warfare like my husband the prince. Some were even tutored, like you and Achilles, by Chiron on Mount Pelion.’

  ‘Then they will have been tutored in the arts of healing as well, is that what you’re implying?’ asked Odysseus. ‘Are you saying that you have one such here? Not only a warrior but a court physician like Machaon and his brother Podalirius sons of Asclepius who tend Agamemnon’s army?’

  ‘One who did not take part in the battle?’ I asked, surprised. ‘All the others of Chiron’s students whom I knew from Nestor the oldest to Achilles the youngest, not forgetting Odysseus himself, were warriors first and physicians last. And that included Asclepius’ sons.

  ‘Mnestheus,’ she said. ‘He is even older than King Nestor who sailed with Jason, and is sadly too frail for battle nowadays. Mnestheus is our physician.’

  ‘I’d like to talk to him,’ said Odysseus. ‘Certainly before we consider moving the bodies to examine them more closely. Where is he likely to be?’

  ‘The last time I saw him he was in the room you Achaeans would call the domatio aimatos. The blood room.’

  ‘The blood room?’ I asked. ‘What is the blood room?’

  ‘It is where our men hurt in battle were brought for tending. I suspect that it will be full of corpses now rather than wounded soldiers.’

  ‘Possibly. It depends how good your physician is and whose soldiers found it first,’ said Odysseus. ‘Either way Mnestheus himself should be alright. It’s not too likely that an aged physician would be put to the sword. If he can heal your men, he could be useful healing ours. Could you be kind enough to show us the way?’

  When Agamemnon’s army had been trapped outside my childhood home the port city of Aulis while his thousand ships were waiting for a westerly wind to let them sail to Troy, I had found cause to visit the tents of our physicians Machaon and his brother Podalirius. Even though we were not engaged in battle, the facility had been full of sick, hurt and wounded, barely alive and recently deceased. A
s Odysseus and I followed Princess Briseis though the labyrinth of tunnels beneath the citadel of Lyrnessus, I thought about this experience and hoped that it would prepare me for whatever I might find in the blood room.

  It did not.

  The blood room was a vast, low-ceilinged space which seemed dark and gloomy even though it was liberally sprinkled with lamps. It appeared that the place had been found by the Myrmidons who stood guard now, belying their reputation as ruthless killers while adding to their reputation for following orders. They had not killed the wounded men who earlier that same day had been doing their best to kill them. To be fair, the men under Mnestheus’ care were in no condition to pose any threat at the moment in any case, for most of them seemed to be in that limbo between life and death waiting to discover whether or not Atropos, leader of the Fates, would cut the thread of their life. In the mean-time the men working to keep Atropos’ shears from the defenders’ life-threads were being seconded into keeping her sharp shears from a number of their injured opponents’ as well.

  The place stank; not only of blood but also of the herbs and medicines Mnestheus and his helpers were employing on the men from the opposing sides of the battle. I could smell myrrh, feverfew, camomile and the musty odour I did not recognise. And, of course, it also stank of all the effluent that tends to accompany damaged bodies in this position and condition.

  v

  I hesitated at the entrance and expected Princess Briseis to do likewise, for I assumed – erroneously as it turned out – that royal nostrils would be even more easily offended than my own more lowly ones. But she did not even pause. She entered the place and strode purposefully through the carnage, her lamp held high, looking for the elderly physician. Odysseus closed up behind me. ‘She’s been down here often before,’ he observed. ‘You can tell from her dress and her hands, as well as her familiarity with the place.’ I had to strain to hear him, for the groans and cries of those being tended put me in mind of what I feared I would hear if I ever ended up in Tartarus. Then he too was off through the bloodbath, weaving between the wounded and their nurses.