by John Dolan
When Dolon has gone another furlong—a mule-plowed furlong, not one of those short ox furlongs—the two Greeks rise up like lions come to life and sprint after him.
Dolon hears footsteps, sees two lion-men chasing him, and uses all the speed he has. He runs toward the wall, hoping to dodge into the Greek camp and hide among the tents. Odysseus tells Diomedes, “He’s getting away from us! Throw that spear of yours!”
Diomedes takes aim, Odysseus grabs his friend’s huge arm, yelling, “Don’t kill him! Aim ahead of him!”
Diomedes throws, as Odysseus calls, “Stop right there, unless you want to die!”
Diomedes’ spear buries itself in the plain just ahead of Dolon. He stops, begging, “Take me alive, please! I’ll pay ransom! Anything you want!”
Odysseus answers, “Just tell us the truth. What are you, a grave-robber or a Trojan scout?”
Dolon sobs, “Hektor! He made me come out here! Promised me Akilles’ horses and chariot!” Odysseus smiles. “You? You really thought you could drive Akilles’ team? Those horses are immortal! Akilles himself can barely control them, and he’s half god himself.”
He and Diomedes chuckle over the idea of this churl at the reins of Akilles’ team.
Odysseus asks, “What did Hektor ask you to find out?”
Dolon says, “He wants to know if you Greeks are loading your ships to sail off!”
Odysseus nods and says, “Yes, I thought he’d send someone to check on us. Now tell us where Hektor and the Trojan leaders are.”
Dolon: “By the monument, away from the main body of troops! I can show you!”
Odysseus: “Are there guards? Sentries?”
Dolon: “At the Trojan campfires, yes. But the allies, those crazy barbarians, they don’t keep any sentries! They leave all that to us Trojans; after all, their wives and children are safe, far away!”
Odysseus nods again. “Where are the chiefs? Scattered among the soldiers, or on their own? How hard would it be to get at them?”
Dolon: “Priam’s sons are well guarded. You’d never reach them alive. Your best bet is the Thracians at the edge of the camp. They don’t post sentries. And they’re rich! Beautiful horses, white as clouds! And chariots fitted with gold! You’ll find their king, Rhesus, sleeping in the middle of their camp.”
Dolon raises his hands, looking almost pleased with himself: “There, I’ve told you everything I know. Now take me to the ships to be ransomed.”
But Odysseus shakes his head. He and Diomedes have barely been able to hide their disgust with this traitor. Ransom? He won’t live another five minutes.
Dolon stutters, “Well then, tie me up, and untie me when you come back! Please! I swear, everything I told you is true!”
Odysseus smiles, steps back. Now Diomedes looms in front of Dolon. The huge lion-headed silhouette speaks solemnly: “No, I don’t think so, spy. You’d just be ransomed and come back spying again. Simpler to kill you.”
Dolon screeches and tries to grab Diomedes’ beard, claim mercy. But Diomedes saw that one coming. As Dolon lunges, Diomedes’ sword scythes right through his neck. Dolon’s ugly head rolls in the dust.
Odysseus takes Dolon’s weasel-skin cap and jackal pelt and hangs them on a tamarisk branch, calling, “Athena, beloved goddess, these little things are for you. Help us kill some Thracians and we’ll be back with better gifts!”
The two of them jog toward the Trojan camp, spot the Thracians’ campfire, and watch from the darkness. The Thracians are sleeping off their wine. The fools haven’t posted a single sentry. And each Thracian has a string of fine horses tethered by his bed.
Odysseus whispers, “That man in the center, see him? That’ll be their king, Rhesus. Kill him, and as many of the rest as you can. I’ll grab the horses.”
Diomedes hesitates a moment. There are dozens of Thracians sleeping around their king. But Athena touches him, and his heart fills with grim joy.
He runs full speed to the first Thracian, sleeping at the edge of the light. Diomedes raises his spear with both hands like a butter-churn, stabs it down. He moves toward the fire, where the Thracian king is sleeping, stabbing the sleeping men as he goes. Some die without a sound, but others, hit in the guts, wake and writhe, screaming, making wild shadows in the firelight.
Odysseus follows him, pulling dead bodies out of the way so the horses will have a clear path.
Rhesus, the Thracian king, sleeps through the slaughter. Odysseus watches, puzzled; is Rhesus deaf, or too drunk to wake? Then he sees a vile green thing floating over Rhesus’ sleeping face, and smiles. Zeus has sent one of his evil dreams to distract the king. Odysseus says a quick prayer of thanks to his godfather.
Diomedes runs left, then right, like a boy playing a skipping game on a rocky stream-bed. Twelve Thracian fighters are dead or dying by the time Diomedes reaches the center and stands over Rhesus. He takes a deep breath, raises his spear, and smashes it through the king’s breastbone, crushing his heart. The king dies without waking, still in the web of Zeus’ evil dream.
Thirteen dead Thracians! A good accounting. Fourteen, if you count the wretched spy Dolon. Odysseus, seeing that the Thracians’ king is dead, whistles to Diomedes to leave. He has the horses tied together, ready to ride off. But Diomedes wants to take the king’s armor. He’s still hesitating when he hears Athena’s voice say, “No. Go now.”
Diomedes runs over the corpses he’s just made, sliding on blood and innards. He and Odysseus jump onto a couple of horses and lead the whole herd back to the ships, Odysseus using his borrowed bow as a whip.
They stop to pick up their trophies from the tamarisk tree where they killed the spy Dolon.
All the Greeks are waiting for them, cheering wildly. Old Nestor asks Odysseus, “What are these horses, white as clouds? I’ve never seen one like them!”
Odysseus shouts to the whole army, “Thracian! These are the Thracians’ horses! Diomedes killed twelve of them, and smashed their king’s heart with his spear! Ah, I forgot: We killed another, a spy, out there by the tamarisk tree, and brought back some souvenirs he gave us!” He laughs, waving Dolon’s weasel-skin cap and jackal pelt.
Every Greek is up on the wall, cheering himself hoarse, as Diomedes and Odysseus lead the horses into camp. They hand the captured horses to slaves and walk into the sea, washing the blood and shit off themselves.
Then they go to the baths, where slaves wash them again. Only then does Odysseus put on his finest robe, then take the weasel-skin cap and jackal pelt to the stern of his ship, to be offered in thanks to Athena. He lays the cap and skin there and says, “Athena, beloved goddess, these are for you, with my thanks.” Then he goes to drink wine and tell everyone the story of their great raid. But before he tastes his wine, he pours out a good gulp’s worth to the goddess who loves him so well.
11
RAGE
TODAY IT WILL BE SETTLED.
Both sides watch the sunrise, looking for clues what the gods have in mind. Then they feel it. All at once. Zeus has sent them Rage.
As the two armies form up, Rage screams like a hawk coming down on a rabbit. Every man holds his spear tighter, grinding his teeth, dreaming of pushing that pointed stick right through a writhing enemy. No envoys, no fine speeches.
The two armies face off. Zeus sends a fine mist of dew down on the fighters’ faces. This dew is blood-red.
Both sides charge each other without a word and the killing begins. Rage is the only god Zeus allows on the field today. He’s warned all the others not to interfere.
All morning they kill each other face to face, neither side gaining a thing. Then a Greek hero runs forward, climbs up on a Trojan chariot and kills the rider. The driver jumps out to avenge his friend, and the Greek sticks his spear right through the driver’s helmet and into the brain.
This hero turns back to the Greeks, and they can see his face. It’s Agamemnon. Something’s happened to him. Last night he was weeping, lost, a coward; now he’s fighting like Akilles.
He runs through the Trojans so fast it’s like a man running among statues. Before the Trojans can react, Agamemnon jumps up on another chariot and kills two of King Priam’s sons, one a bastard but the other legitimate, a full-blood Trojan prince.
As soon as the two boys are dead, Agamemnon rips their armor off, tosses it back toward the Greek line—roaring, laughing.
The Trojans have never seen anything like this. They never feared Agamemnon in battle, but now they back away from him. He’s possessed.
Even the Trojans’ horses are afraid of Agamemnon today. He chases another chariot, and the terrified horses rear up. Agamemnon jumps in the car, looks into the faces of the two riders, and laughs: “Why, I know you boys! You’re Pisander and Hippolakas, the sons of Antimakhas! Paris bribed your father to make sure Troy never gave Helen back to us!
They beg, “Take us alive! Our father is rich!”
Agamemnon laughs. “Oh, I know your father! He’s the reason you’re going to die now!” He pushes his spear through Pisander’s guts. Hippolakhas tries to flee, but Agamemnon has his sword out. As the boy plants his hands on the chariot rail, his sword chops down, hacking off both arms at the wrist. The boy falls, and Agamemnon chops down again, striking his head off.
Agamemnon jumps down and runs among the Trojans like a brush fire, killing everything in his way.
Trojan chariots are jolting back to the city, horses fleeing toward their stables, while their riders lie on the plain. Those men are no use to their wives now! Only the buzzards circling overhead have any use for them. To the vultures, they look very sweet!
The Trojans run from Agamemnon like cattle from a hungry lion. And like cattle, they’re too slow to save themselves. Agamemnon runs after them, faster than their chariot horses, stabbing one after another, tossing riders off their chariots like a farm hand pitching hay from a cart, then running on to the next chariot.
Now Zeus orders the next phase of the day’s fight. He calls Iris to him, tells her, “Go to Hektor. Tell him this: ‘Don’t attack till Agamemnon is wounded. It won’t be long till that happens. When it does, you can kill every Greek you see. I’ll give you the strength to reach the Greek ships before the sun goes down.’”
Iris finds Hektor and tells him Zeus’ orders.
Hektor follows them. Instead of rushing to fight Agamemnon himself, he stays back, rallying the Trojans, pushing them to the front with the shaft of his spear.
Agamemnon is still possessed, killing anything in front of him. Ifidamas, a huge Trojan, challenges him. Agamemnon throws first and misses. The giant grins and throws. The spear hits Agamemnon’s silver belt, and bends. He’s unhurt, but Ifidamas thinks he’s wounded. The Trojan giant runs up to finish him off. Agamemnon whips out his sword and chops his head half off.
That big fool of a Trojan was as dead as bronze before he hit the ground! His wife wouldn’t get much joy out of him from now on, even though he’d paid a hundred cattle for her, with the promise of another thousand sheep and goats later. Now big old Ifidamas has lost wife, life, and even his head. You’d think a man can’t lose much more than that, but Agamemnon is bending down to take his last possession, his armor! It’s always dangerous, stripping a corpse. You’re unprotected, you don’t see what’s around you. Agamemnon doesn’t know that Ifidamas has one thing left: a brother. Koun saw Agamemnon kill his big brother. He runs up in a rage, stabs Agamemnon through the forearm.
Then, thinking he’s put Agamemnon out of action, Koun grabs his brother’s huge corpse by the foot and starts dragging it away.
But Agamemnon grabs his spear with his off-hand and sticks it into Koun’s side. Then he stands and cuts off Koun’s head with his sword. Crazed with pain, he stands over big brother’s corpse, holding little brother’s head, and screams, “Look! I’ve killed them both! Tell their father he has no more sons!”
He tosses the head away and runs into battle again, scattering Trojans like a fox scatters chickens. While the blood flows clear from his arm, Agamemnon doesn’t even feel his wound. But as the wound blackens and begins to scab the pain hits him, bad as a woman in labor. His berserk mood fades away, and he’s the old, weak Agamemnon again. He croaks, “Greeks, I’m through for the day. Save the ships!” He stumbles into his chariot and heads back to camp.
This is the moment Hektor was waiting for. He shoulders his way to the front through frightened Trojans, turns back to them and shouts, “Now they die! Watch me kill, and do the same!”
He starts killing Greeks, as easily as Agamemnon was slaughtering Trojans a few minutes ago. He slides through the Greek lines like a ship’s prow through salt spray, and wherever he passes, men fall, with blood spouting from their necks, or guts spilling from their bellies.
Odysseus has been watching. He grabs Diomedes and yells through the screams, “We have to stop Hektor! He’ll burn the ships if we don’t push him back!”
Diomedes answers, “I’ll fight him, but Zeus is on his side today. I may not live much longer.”
Odysseus and Diomedes go on a killing run to match Hektor’s. They see two Trojans, the sons of a famous fortune-teller, and kill them both. They didn’t know how short their own future would be!
Hektor sees the two Greeks killing his comrades and jumps into his chariot, flying over the dust toward Odysseus and Diomedes. His helmet shines like a comet, and his bronze armor flashes like lightning.
Diomedes yells to Odysseus, “Here comes Hektor. Not much we can do but face him.”
Diomedes balances his spear, takes one long quick step and flings it at Hektor’s head.
It’s a good throw, and it hits the helmet high on the forehead. But Apollo himself gave Hektor that helmet. The spear glances off.
The impact leaves Hektor dazed. His horses head back to the Trojan lines by habit. Those horses have saved Hektor’s life. Diomedes and Odysseus can’t find him behind the Trojan shields.
Diomedes is furious: “Hektor!” he screams. “You should be dead! I see why you pray to Apollo; that helmet he gave you saved your life today! But I’ll find you again!”
And Diomedes begins killing the nearest Trojans, since he can’t have Hektor.
Paris has been watching from the shadows, holding his bow. While Diomedes is stripping the armor from a Trojan he just killed, Paris lets fly. The arrow hits Diomedes on the foot and goes right through, pinning it to the ground.
Paris gloats: “Ha! Got you! I just wish it’d hit you in the belly, so your guts could fester and give you a slow death!”
Diomedes grabs his foot and screams, “Aaagh, you Asians and your cowardly arrows! Why can’t you fight like a man, wife-stealer? Because I’d skewer you apart in a spear fight, that’s why! Never mind, your little sticks can’t hurt me! But when my spear just grazes a man, the buzzards invite their friends to dinner, and his wife starts unpacking the funeral robes!”
It’s all bluff. Diomedes is badly wounded. Odysseus motions the men up, and they raise their shields high to cover Diomedes. Odysseus pulls the arrow, barb and all, out of Diomedes’ foot. Dizzy from the pain, Diomedes limps to his chariot and heads back to camp.
Now Odysseus is on his own. He says to himself, “This is the end. I can’t run, and if I stay these Trojans will kill me. All I can do is die well.”
Trojan spearmen surround him like a pack of hounds. But this boar has sharp tusks; soon a half-dozen Trojans are dead or wounded, as Odysseus keeps turning, stabbing at any who come too close.
As he stabs one Trojan, the man’s brother, a fine fighter named Sokas, screams, “You’ve killed my brother! Either I kill you or join him!” and he rams his spear right through Odysseus’ shield.
Any other man would have died. But Odysseus has Athena watching over him. Sokas’ spear rips through his skin and the fat under it, hits the ribcage—but Athena deflects it so it only digs a furrow along Odysseus’ ribs and pops out again. It leaves a gash, but his innards aren’t punctured.
Odysseus screams at the Trojan, “You won�
�t have long to boast about wounding me, Sokas!” and throws his own spear. It catches the Trojan dead center; he falls without a sound.
Odysseus pulls the spear from his side, and as the pain hits him he screams, “Aaaah, you died too easy, Sokas! I wish you hurt as much as I do now!”
As the spear comes out, the blood stains his side like a crimson girdle. Odysseus tries to hold the Trojans off, but hordes come running to finish him off. He circles, batting down their spears like a buck holding off dogs with his antlers.
It won’t work for long. Odysseus forgets his pride and yells, “Menelaos, anyone, help me! I’m alone and hurt!”
Menelaos grabs Ajax, and the two of them smash into the ring of Trojans surrounding Odysseus.
But as Ajax is yanking his spear out of a Trojan’s body, something strange happens in his head. Zeus has decided to take Ajax out of the fight by poisoning his mind with fear. The head was always Ajax’s weak point. His shoulders are even stronger than Akilles’, but a man needs to be strong in the head too. Ajax is weak above the neck. Not slow-witted like Menelaos, but soft. Better to be slow than soft.
Ajax tries to ignore the fear. He runs after the Trojans, stabbing anyone in range with his spear, slipping on blood and guts, moaning to himself, wanting to vomit.
Something is rising inside him, a huge scream that will never stop. Now he can only see burst guts and spraying arteries. His head wants to explode. He grips his helmet and groans.
On the other flank, Hektor is doing some killing of his own. He’s killed a dozen Greeks, some of them big men, but so far, the Greek shield wall is holding. Then Paris sees his chance, and picks up his bow.
These bowmen are at their most dangerous when they’re standing quietly behind a raging hero like Hektor. Everyone is watching Hektor; they don’t even see Paris, waiting for a shot.
Now he sees his chance, as Machaon, the Greeks’ famous healer, lowers his shield for a moment. Quicker than a cat batting a fly, Paris raises his bow, aims, fires, all in one motion.