The Cypria: Reconstructing the Lost Prequel to Homer's Iliad

by D M Smith

  Meantime the sons of Atreus and all the host stood looking on the ground, while the priest, seizing his knife, offered up a prayer and was closely scanning the maiden’s throat to see where he should strike. ’Twas no slight sorrow filled my heart, as I stood by with bowed head, when lo! A sudden miracle! Each one of us distinctly heard the sound of a blow, but none saw the spot where the maiden vanished. Loudly the priest cried out, and all the host took up the cry at the sight of a marvel all unlooked for, due to some god’s agency, and passing all belief, although ’twas seen. For there upon the ground lay a hind of size immense and passing fair to see, gasping out her life, with whose blood the altar of the goddess was thoroughly bedewed.

  Whereon spake Calchas thus—his joy thou canst imagine—“Ye captains of this leagued Achaean host, do ye see this victim, which the goddess has set before her altar, a mountain roaming hind? This is more welcome to her by far than the maid, that she may not defile her altar by shedding noble blood. Gladly has she accepted it and is granting us a prosperous voyage for our attack on Ilium. Wherefore take heart, sailors, each man of you, and away to your ships, for today must we leave the hollow bays of Aulis and cross the Aegean main.”

  Then, when the sacrifice was wholly burnt to ashes in the blazing flame, he offered such prayers as were meet, that the army might win return; but me Agamemnon sends to tell thee this, and say what Heaven-sent luck is his, and how he hath secured undying fame throughout the length of Hellas. Now I was there myself and speak as an eye-witness: without a doubt thy child flew away to the gods. A truce then to thy sorrowing, and cease to be wroth with thy husband. For the gods’ ways with man are not what we expect, and those whom they love they keepeth safe; yea, for this day hath seen thy daughter dead and brought to life again.

  Exit MESSENGER

  CHORUS What joy to hear these tidings from the messenger! He tells thee thy child is living still, among the gods.

  CLYTEMNESTRA Which of the gods, my child, hath stolen thee? How am I to address thee? How can I be sure that this is not an idle tale told to cheer me, to make me cease my piteous lamentation for thee?

  CHORUS Lo! King Agamemnon approaches, to confirm this story for thee.

  Enter AGAMEMNON

  AGAMEMNON Happy may we be counted, lady, as far as concerns our daughter; for she hath fellowship with gods in very sooth. But thou must take this tender babe and start for home, for the host is looking now to sail. Fare thee well! ’Tis long ere I shall greet thee on my return from Troy; may it be well with thee!

  CHORUS Son of Atreus, start for Phrygia’s land with joy and so return, I pray, after taking from Troy her fairest spoils.

  Exeunt OMNES

  END

  The Oenotropae

  Not many days after, with the armies having been set in order by the leaders and the perfect time for sailing now at hand, the ships were filled with all manner of costly goods which had been offered by the inhabitants of that region. As for grain, wine, and other necessary foodstuffs, all of this was provided by Anius and his daughters; these were known as the Oenotropae, and they were priestesses of a divine religion. In this way they sailed from Aulis.[69]

  —Dictys Cretensis, Ephemeris belli Trojani, I

  VII.

  Next they sail as far as Tenedos, and while they are feasting, Philoctetes is bitten by a snake and is left behind in Lemnos because of the stench of his sore. Here, too, Achilles quarrels with Agamemnon because he is invited late.

  Then the Greeks tried to land at Ilium, but the Trojans prevent them, and Protesilaus is killed by Hector. Achilles then kills Cycnus, the son of Poseidon, and drives the Trojans back.

  —Proclus, Chrestomathy

  Philoctetes at Tenedos

  After putting to sea from Aulis they touched at Tenedos. It was ruled by Tenes, son of Cycnus and Proclia, but according to some, he was a son of Apollo. He dwelt there because he had been banished by his father.

  For Cycnus had a son Tenes and a daughter Hemithea by Proclia, daughter of Laomedon, but he afterwards married Philonome, daughter of Tragasus; and she fell in love with Tenes, and, failing to seduce him, falsely accused him to Cycnus of attempting to debauch her, and in witness of it she produced a flute-player, by name Eumolpus.

  Cycnus believed her, and putting him and his sister in a chest he set them adrift on the sea. The chest was washed up on the island of Leucophrys, and Tenes landed and settled in the island, and called it Tenedos after himself. But Cycnus afterwards learning the truth, stoned the flute-player to death and buried his wife alive in the earth.

  So when the Greeks were standing in for Tenedos, Tenes saw them and tried to keep them off by throwing stones, but was killed by Achilles with a sword-cut in the breast, though Thetis had forewarned Achilles not to kill Tenes, because he himself would die by the hand of Apollo if he slew Tenes.

  And as they were offering a sacrifice to Apollo, a water-snake approached from the altar and bit Philoctetes;[70] and as the sore did not heal and grew noisome, the army could not endure the stench, and Odysseus, by the orders of Agamemnon, put him ashore on the island of Lemnos, with the bow of Heracles which he had in his possession; and there, by shooting birds with the bow, he subsisted in the wilderness.

  —Apollodorus, Epitome

  Protesilaus

  The Achaeans had been told by an oracle that he who first touched the shores of Troy would pay with his life. As the armada came to shore the Greeks held back, recalling the words of the oracle; all but Iolaus, son of Iphiclus and Diomedeae, who sprang forth from his ship and was quickly felled by Hector.[71] He was afterwards called Protesilaus, because he was the first of them to be lost.[72]

  When his wife, Laodamia daughter of Acastus, learned of his death, she wept and begged the gods that she be allowed to speak with her husband for three hours. Her prayer was answered, and Hermes led him back from the dead. But when their allotted three hours was spent and Protesilaus died for a second time, Laodamia was overcome by grief.

  —Hyginus, Fabulae, CIII

  Laodamia

  When Laodamia the daughter of Acastus[73] had used up those three hours granted to her by the gods, she fell to weeping, unable to bear the loss she had endured. So she made herself a bronze statue of her husband Protesilaus which she kept in her chambers under the pretence that it was the statue of a god, and she began to worship it.

  One morning a servant was bringing her fruits to be offered as a sacrifice, and peering through a crack in the door he saw Laodamia embracing and kissing the statue. Believing that she had taken a lover, he at once reported what he had seen to her father.

  When Acastus entered the chamber he saw the image of Protesilaus. Wishing to end his daughter’s torture, he commanded that the statue and the offerings be burned on a pyre. Laodamia, unable to bear her grief, threw herself upon the fire and was consumed by it.[74]

  —Hyginus, Fabulae, CIV

  Achilles and Cycnus

  Fame now had spread the tidings, a great fleet of Greek ships was at that time on its way, an army of brave men. The Trojans stood, all ready to prevent the hostile Greeks from landing on their shores. By the decree of Fate, the first man killed of the invaders’ force was strong Protesilaus, by the spear of valiant Hector, whose unthought-of power at that time was discovered by the Greeks to their great cost.

  The Phrygians also learned, at no small cost of blood, what warlike strength came from the Grecian land. The Sigean shores grew red with death-blood: Cycnus, Poseidon’s son there slew a thousand men, for which, in wrath, Achilles pressed his rapid chariot straight through the Trojan army, making a lane with his great spear, shaped from a Pelion tree. And as he sought through the fierce battle’s press—either for Cycnus or for Hector—he met Cycnus and engaged at once with him (fate had preserved great Hector from such foe till ten years from that day).

  Cheering his steeds, their white necks pressed upon the straining yoke, he steered the chariot towards his foe, and, brandishing the spear with his stron
g arm, he cried, “Whoever you may be, you have the consolation of a glorious death; you die by me, Haemonian Achilles!” His heavy spear flew after the fierce words. Although the spear was whirled direct and true, yet nothing it availed with sharpened point. It only bruised, as with a blunted stroke, the breast of Cycnus!

  “By report we knew of you before this battle, goddess-born,” the other answered him. “But why are you surprised that I escape the threatened wound?” Achilles was surprised. “This helmet crowned, great with its tawny horse-hair, and this shield, broad-hollowed, on my left arm, are not held for help in war; they are but ornament, as Ares wears armour. All of them shall be put off, and I will fight with you unhurt. It is a privilege that I was born not as you, of a Nereid, but of him whose powerful rule is over Nereus, his daughters and their ocean.” So he spoke.

  Immediately he threw his spear against Achilles, destined to pierce the curving shield through brass and through nine folds of tough bull’s hide. It stopped there, for it could not pierce the tenth. The hero wrenched it out, and hurled again a quivering spear at Cycnus, with great strength. The Trojan stood unwounded and unharmed. Nor did a third spear injure Cycnus, though he stood there with his body all exposed. Achilles raged at this, as a wild bull in open circus, when with dreadful horns he butts against the hanging purple robes which stir his wrath and there observes how they evade him, quite unharmed by his attack.

  Achilles then examined his good spear, to see if by some chance the iron point was broken from it, but the point was firm, fixed on the wooden shaft. “My hand is weak,” he said, “but is it possible its strength forsook me though it never has before? For surely I had my accustomed strength, when first I overthrew Lyrnessus’ walls, or when I won the isle of Tenedos or Thebes (then under King Eetion) and I drenched both with their own peoples’ blood, or when the river Caycus ran red with slaughter of its people,[75] or, when twice Telephus felt the virtue of my spear. On this field also, where such heaps lie slain, my right hand surely has proved its true might; and it is mighty.” So he spoke of strength remembered.

  But as if in proof against his own distrust, he hurled a spear against Menoetes, a soldier in the Lycian ranks. The sharp spear tore the victim’s coat of mail and pierced his breast beneath. Achilles, when he saw his dying head strike on the earth wrenched the same spear from out the reeking wound, and said, “This is the hand, and this the spear I conquered with; and I will use the same against him who in luck escaped their power, and the result should favour as I pray the helpful gods.” And, as he said such words, in haste he hurled his ashen spear, again at Cycnus. It went straight and struck unshunned. Resounding on the shoulder of that foe, it bounced back as if it hit a wall or solid cliff. Yet when Achilles saw just where the spear struck Cycnus, there was stained with blood. He instantly rejoiced; but vainly, for it was Menoetes’ blood!

  Then in a sudden rage, Achilles leaped down headlong from his lofty chariot, and seeking his god-favoured foe, he struck in conflict fiercely with his gleaming sword. Although he saw that he had pierced both shield and helmet through, he did not harm the foe—his sword was even blunted on the flesh. Achilles could not hold himself for rage, but furious, with his sword-hilt and his shield he battered wildly the uncovered face and hollow temples of his Trojan foe. Cycnus gave way; Achilles rushed on him, buffeting fiercely, so that he could not recover from the shock.

  Fear seized upon Cycnus, and darkness swam before his eyes. Then, as he moved back with retreating steps, a large stone hindered him and blocked his way. His back pushed against this, Achilles seized and dashed him violently to the ground. Then pressing with buckler and hard knees the breast of Cycnus, he unlaced the helmet thongs, wound them about the foeman’s neck and drew them tightly under his chin, till Cycnus’ throat could take no breath of life.

  Achilles rose eager to strip his conquered foe but found his empty armour, for the god of ocean had changed the victim into that white bird whose name he lately bore.[76]

  —Ovid, Metamorphoses, XII

  When the barbarians saw him dead they fled to the city, and the Greeks, leaping from their ships, filled the plain with bodies. And having shut up the Trojans, they besieged them; and they drew up the ships.

  —Apollodorus, Epitome

  VIII.

  The Greeks take up their dead and send envoys to the Trojans demanding the surrender of Helen and the treasure with her. The Trojans refusing, they first assault the city, and then go out and lay waste the country and cities round about. After this, Achilles desires to see Helen, and Aphrodite and Thetis contrive a meeting between them.[77] The Achaeans next desire to return home, but are restrained by Achilles, who afterwards drives off the cattle of Aeneas, and sacks Lyrnessus and Pedasus and many of the neighbouring cities, and kills Troilus. Patroclus carries away Lycaon to Lemnos and sells him as a slave, and out of the spoils Achilles receives Briseis as a prize, and Agamemnon Chryseis.

  —Proclus, Chrestomathy

  The Greek Embassy

  It was decided that Odysseus and Diomedes would go to Priam and attempt to persuade him to surrender Helen and all of the wealth that had been seized. As they made ready to leave Menelaus, who these negotiations concerned, decided to join the delegation. In this way they came to Troy.[78] As soon as the envoys arrived, the Trojans, seeing that they were men of great prominence, hastened to summon the elders and all of those who occupied seats on the council. But Priam was kept at home by his sons.

  And so, in the presence of the council, Menelaus decried the many wrongs that had been committed against his house; with a groan, he complained that the absence of his wife had bereaved their daughter, and all of this from a former friend and guest who had no cause to mistreat him so. Hearing this the elders wept unrestrainedly, agreeing with all that he said as if they had suffered the injury themselves.

  After that Odysseus stood up in their midst and addressed the council in this way: “I imagine that you, leaders of the Trojans, are quite aware that the Greeks will seldom begin anything rashly or without deliberation, and since the time of our ancestors have relied on careful planning, in order that our actions should garner praise rather than blame. And even so, having levied this army with many fine and celebrated generals, this war is not yet a foregone conclusion. In keeping with our usual practice of moderation, we now come to negotiate. The rest is in your hands, Trojans. We do not begrudge you this opportunity—if sounder heads may now prevail—to correct your previous ill-advised decisions.

  “By the immortal gods, consider with all your hearts what disasters may spread throughout the world like a contagion. For who in the future, when entering vital negotiations, will not recall Paris’ wickedness and view all of your motives with mistrust? Should brothers fear to welcome one another into their own homes? Who would not view his guest or his kinsman as a potential foe? In short, if you allow these things—and I dearly hope you will not—then friendship and accord between barbarian and Greek will be forever out of reach. Therefore, Trojan princes, it would be good and useful if the Greeks were to receive all the goods that have been wrested from them, and do not delay, lest the friendly relationship between our two kingdoms should turn to conflict.

  “And by Heracles, when I consider your lot I feel sorrow, that those who are guiltless should suffer punishment for the crimes of a few. For if Helen and all that was stolen is not restored to us, then war cannot be averted; a war that will not end until all of the Greek leaders—each one capable of taking this city—lie dead, or else, as is my I hope, the city of Ilium is captured and burned, with only its ashes left for posterity as an example of your impiety. For this reason I ask you: while the power yet lies in your hands, prevent this.”

  When he had finished speaking there was a great silence, as is common at such times when every man waits to hear the opinion of others, regarding his own as inferior, until Panthus said in a loud voice: “Odysseus, you are addressing those who have not the power to remedy these matters.”

 
Then after spake Antenor: “All these things which have been mentioned by you are true, and had we the authority we would do what is wise and prudent. But, as you can see, power is wielded by those with interests contrary to the welfare of our people.” Having made his argument, he immediately ordered that all of the leaders who had come because of friendship with Priam, as well as all who had been hired as mercenaries and auxiliaries, should now be introduced.

  As these arrived Odysseus began a second oration, calling them the most iniquitous of men; no different from Paris, the most heinous of criminals, having deserted all things good and honourable in following him.

  None were ignorant of the fact that if they approved of such a terrible injustice, it would set an evil example that would be disseminated throughout the nearby peoples, spreading fear among neighbouring kingdoms that similar or more serious evil might follow. All these hideous things they silently considered amongst themselves, being moved to indignation by their own culpability. Then in their customary way the elders put forth the motion that Menelaus had suffered an injurious wrong, and the decree was passed, with Antimachus alone taking Paris’ part, in opposition to all. And at once two men were chosen, and commanded to report all of these things to Priam.