Meanwhile an urgent, increasingly ill-tempered restlessness had possessed the victorious host. Most of them wanted to get away as quickly as possible from a place where evidence of their crimes lay rife around them. Already the air was tainted with the stink of decaying flesh. Soon it must prove insufferable. Yet after those years of struggle, each man was determined to grab as much as he could before leaving and there was a prodigious bounty of loot in the captured city.
In the early hours of the sack, a gang of Lapiths caught pillaging a small temple on their own account had been summarily executed, but once the generals were called into council and became locked in their own disputes, all attempts to organize an orderly and equitable way of dividing the spoils broke down and each contingent of troops sent out its scavengers in packs. Requisitioning carts and pack-animals wherever they could find them, they loaded them with golden effigies, silver cauldrons, copper ingots, tripods, ewers, dishes, rhytons, chalices, torques, pectorals, jewelled diadems, rich tapestries and drapes, anything of value that could be moved. Arguments broke out over the choicer items of spoil. Old rivalries turned vicious with greed. Blood was shed. Meanwhile the gale that had got up across the Phrygian plain began to blow harder and men were injured in the drive to load herds of stolen cattle and horses onto ships that dipped and lurched in the choppy waters of the bay.
By late morning of the first day after the fall of the city, Agamemnon was in a filthy temper. He hadn’t slept for two nights. He was exhausted from the effort of trying to control his rampaging troops. Wine had left him with a thunderous headache, and now he seemed doomed to listen to interminable wrangling in the council about how a fair division of the spoils could be achieved. Not for the first time he found himself missing the cool, discriminating mind of Palamedes. The young Euboean had applied himself to this very problem after the fall of Smyrna and had come up with a solution; but his system had been so complicated that no one could remember quite how it worked, and now he was dead. Nor, with the possible exception of the still-absent Odysseus, was there anyone else who commanded sufficient respect to act as arbiter. So the arguing went on.
Meanwhile Agamemnon had things on his mind which he had not yet shared with his squabbling council. Prominent among them were thoughts of Cassandra as he had seen her, several hours earlier, in the temple of Athena. She stood, grasping the Palladium in her slender arms for protection while Locrian Aias lifted her shift from behind to reveal her naked flesh. Agamemnon had entered the temple in time to prevent the rape but the image was seared on his mind. And he had spoken to Cassandra. He had seen her breasts through the torn shift and looked into her face and found himself beguiled by the wild, penetrating gaze with which her eyes defied him. It was like being looked at by a wounded lynx.
Driven by an impulse of desire, Agamemnon had turned to his herald Talthybius, ordering that Cassandra be kept aside as part of his own portion in the spoils. As swiftly, as unconsciously, as that, the thing had been done.
And he wanted her now. He wanted her very badly, but he must sit here in this half-wrecked throne-room, listening to Acamas complain that there could be no justice if those who had fought throughout all ten years of the war were to see no more profit from their pains than those, such as the stripling Neoptolemus, who had only recently arrived.
Then Demophon, who had slipped earlier in a pool of blood and cracked his forehead, was declaring that as this relative newcomer had already seized Polyxena for his own purposes, should the others not be offered adequate compensation from his share for her removal from the lottery?
Neoptolemus, of course, would hear not a word of this. Why should a man be penalised for piously avenging his father’s murder? No personal gain had accrued to him from Polyxena’s death. Lesser men should be grateful that their own names would live for ever in the reflected glory of Achilles’ fame rather than seeking to defraud the hero’s son of a portion of his just reward.
Agamemnon groaned as the argument went on. Rueing the day that Odysseus had persuaded him to have Palamedes stoned, he was wondering where the Ithacan had got to now that his advice was needed. ‘Let us at least agree to the division of the women!’ he shouted. ‘I have taken Cassandra for myself. Does anyone question that?’
Far from questioning it, most of the council were as relieved by their leader’s eccentric choice as they were astonished by it. Who else would want a mad girl prowling round his house? So Agamemnon reclined back on Priam’s throne, drumming his fingers with satisfaction. ‘Let lots be drawn for Andromache then.’
Again Neoptolemus stepped forward. ‘I have a prior claim to Hector’s wife. Why should I trust her to chance?’
‘How so?’ Old Nestor wearily demanded. Still grieving for the death of his son Antilochus in a brutal skirmish only days before the war ended, the King of Pylos had taken little pleasure in the victory. This undignified squabbling appalled him.
‘Andromache is mine on two counts,’ the young warrior declared. ‘Firstly, because she fell to me at the sacking of the city. She is the captive of my spear. But she is also mine by right of inheritance from my father who slew her husband in fair fight. Had Achilles lived he would certainly have claimed her for his own. I claim the wife of Hector in his name.’
‘But your father’s dead,’ Acamas protested, ‘and you’ve already claimed Polyxena in his name.’
His brother Demophon turned his bandaged head to the rest of the council. ‘Does this boy mean to have all the women for himself?’
Neoptolemus bristled. ‘Polyxena was offered in sacrifice to my father’s shade.’
‘You had your choice,’ Demophon came back. ‘The sword wasn’t the only weapon you might have stuck her with. Or were you afraid the other wasn’t yet keen enough.’
‘Silence!’ Agamemnon roared as he saw Neoptolemus’ hand move towards his sword. ‘Haven’t we spilled enough Trojan blood that we must fight each other now?’ When the murmurings in the hall had died down round him, he said, ‘There are women enough to go round. And the treasure we have taken will make all of you rich for life. So be patient and let’s try to sort this thing in an orderly manner.’
‘But if we are to argue the claims of the dead as well as those of the living,’ Acamas protested, ‘the women will all be as old as Hecuba before we’re done.’
‘In any case,’ Diomedes put in, ‘this division cannot fairly take place until Menelaus and Odysseus are here to guard their interests.’
‘Then let them be found at once,’ Agamemnon growled. ‘We cannot haggle like this for ever.’
He gestured to Talthybius who was about to leave the throne-room when Menelaus strode through the space where the two great gold-plated doors had already been removed from their hinges. Unlike any of the other men assembled there he had found time to bathe and change out of his battle-gear and looked so spruce in the looted vermilion robe he wore that his appearance stunned his grimy comrades to silence.
‘So you’ve decided to show your face at last,’ Agamemnon said. ‘It looks as though you’ve been relaxing at the barbers while some of us were fighting a war.’
‘The war is over, brother,’ Menelaus answered. ‘We have prevailed. I see no reason why one should not behave like a civilized man again.’ But there was less confidence in his voice than in the defiant gaze he cast over the other lords.
Agamemnon studied him in disbelief. ‘Can we presume,’ he returned, ‘that your business is concluded and your faithless wife is dead?’
‘She is under close confinement. Deiphobus, however, is despatched.’
Narrowing his gaze, Agamemnon was about to say more but then decided it would be wiser to pursue this matter in private. His intentions were forestalled, however, by Demophon who asked eagerly, ‘Does this mean that Helen will be included in the lottery along with the other captive women?’
The question was addressed not to Menelaus but to Agamemnon, who scowled at his brother, saying, ‘I’m not sure what it means.’
&nb
sp; Seeing his difficulty, Nestor intervened. ‘You are speaking of the former Queen of Sparta,’ he said sharply to Demophon. ‘Her fate is surely for her husband, the King, to decide?’
Once more everyone looked to Menelaus, who had blanched at the exchanges.
The hall fell silent round him. The noise of men loading wagons ready for delivery to the ships could be heard from the courtyard. Somewhere an ass brayed under a beating from a stick.
‘Well?’ said Agamemnon.
‘Helen’s fate is not yet decided.’ When the silence in the room sharpened to a new pitch of dissatisfaction, Menelaus saw that more was required. ‘I am considering taking her back to Sparta and handing her over to those who have lost their loved ones in this war. I doubt she will last long in their hands.’ Sensing that most of the men assembled in the hall would prefer either to witness Helen’s death immediately or enjoy the pleasures of her body at leisure, he looked up with a pugnacious jut to his chin. ‘But this much I promise you: my wife will never stand like a harlot in the public street for men to haggle over.’
‘So if she lives you keep her?’ Diomedes said.
‘I know you’ve lusted over her for years,’ Menelaus snapped back at him. ‘But believe me, Diomedes, she’ll never be yours. Nor shall any other man here lay hands on her.’
A general muttering broke out among the members of the council, above which rose the angry voice of Demophon. ‘So, Agamemnon has already taken Cassandra for himself. Neoptolemus has killed Polyxena and lays claim to Andromache. Now Menelaus tells us that Helen will be withheld from the lottery. That leaves precious few of the royal women left for the rest of us, except that raddled hag Hecuba, of course, and who in his right mind would choose to be saddled with her?’
‘I will take Hecuba.’
The voice had come from the back of the throne room near where the gold-plated double doors once stood. Everyone turned to see who had spoken.
It was Odysseus, who had just come from two painful encounters, both of which had further shaken his already troubled mind.
The most recent was with Antenor who had accosted him outside the palace and told him how he had been thrown down the palace steps by guards who were under orders not to admit him into Agamemnon’s presence.
‘Have you neither shame nor honour, Odysseus of Ithaca?’ he shouted, white-faced and trembling. ‘You swore to me that all Trojan citizens who laid down their arms would be spared, yet there is scarcely a man left alive in this whole city. You swore it to me and are now forsworn before the gods themselves. They know you for a fouler villain in this evil than even that foul brute in there.’
Odysseus held out a hand to steady the desperate old man, but Antenor spurned him as if contaminated by the touch.
Knowing that his words could make no difference, Odysseus said, ‘Believe me, this was never my intention.’
‘You gave me Agamemnon’s word. You swore you spoke with his full authority.’
‘I believed that I did. I truly believed it. But it seems I was deceived.’
‘You’re asking me to believe that he lied to you as you have lied to me? Why should I believe a word that any of you say? And what difference can it make? The dead are still dead whether you desired it or not. There is no mending that. And I curse you, Odysseus of Ithaca, for the fool’s part you made me play in it.’
‘We are both Agamemnon’s fools,’ Odysseus said, ‘and both his victims too, though the gods know my suffering is as nothing compared with yours. Come inside with me, Antenor. Let us face him together.’
‘He won’t see me.’ Antenor shook his white head. ‘I’ve been demanding to speak with him since I came out of my house and saw … this.’ He gestured hopelessly towards a pile of corpses. ‘But he won’t answer to me. His guards have kept me from the palace. Look.’ He raised his robe to show where his pathetically thin shins were barked and bloody.
‘We shall go in together, friend,’ Odysseus urged him. ‘They won’t refuse you entry if you are at my side.’
But he was wrong. An armed troop of Agamemnon’s Mycenaean Guard stood at the entrance to the palace and though they acknowledged Odysseus with a respectful salute, their commander was resolute that Antenor should not pass. ‘The High King has more urgent matters on his mind,’ he said. ‘He will deal with this fellow in good time.’
‘Without this fellow’s help,’ Odysseus protested, ‘we could never have entered Troy. He is king here now and deserves your respect. Now let us through.’
‘There is only one king here that I know of,’ the commander answered, ‘and he gives me my orders. I know he’s been expecting you for some time, sir. But if this Trojan values his life he would do well to keep out of the High King’s sight.’
Angry and humiliated, Odysseus was left with no choice but to enter the palace alone. Having forced his way through the crowded vestibule, he stood in disbelief for some time, fingering his beard as he listened to the ill-tempered wrangling in the throne-room. A single glance at the flushed face and bleary eyes told him that Agamemnon was drunk, but he was amazed at the contrast between the dapper figure now cut by Menelaus and the dishevelled wreck of a man he had seen in Helen’s bedroom. Everyone else in the hall had been so intent on the discussion of Helen’s fate that his own arrival passed unnoticed. But now he had spoken and Agamemnon turned a scowl his way, demanding to know where he had been hiding himself.
Odysseus moved forward to stand before the King. ‘I’ve been taking the measure of our achievement here,’ he answered steadily.
Agamemnon chose to ignore the note of sarcasm in the Ithacan’s voice. ‘Well, there’s one thing on which we’re all agreed: that thanks to your guile we’ve just won what is probably the greatest victory of all time.’
‘It will certainly rank among the greatest crimes.’
As others gasped around him, Odysseus held Agamemnon in his cold gaze. ‘Last night you had the chance to become a truly great king. You already rule all Argos and might have ruled half of Asia out of Troy. Instead you seem content to be thought a brigand and a liar. You have betrayed your own honour and defiled mine. I find it small wonder that you can’t look Antenor in the face.’
Momentarily shaken by the accusations, Agamemnon glanced away. Then he glowered back at his accuser. ‘Let Antenor go home and count himself lucky he had the sense to betray his king rather than die with him.’ Before Odysseus could utter a retort, he raised a menacing hand and struck back at the insult he had been offered. ‘Nor should you trouble me with your cheap talk of honour. I heard none of that when you urged the death of Palamedes on me.’
‘Palamedes was a traitor.’
‘So you say. So you say.’ Agamemnon narrowed his eyes in a dangerous squint. ‘In any case, what is your Trojan friend Antenor if not a traitor? Beware, Odysseus, lest you become one too.’
Around them, the silence of the hall intensified. The two men glared at one another. Odysseus was about to speak again when Menelaus stepped forward to forestall him, declaring out loud to the whole company that no one doubted the honour of Odysseus or his loyalty to the cause. He turned to smile uneasily at the glowering Ithacan. ‘This is our hour of triumph, Odysseus. Rejoice in it.’
‘No sane man rejoices over a massacre,’ Odysseus replied. ‘My heart quails at what we’ve done in this place.’ He glowered back at Agamemnon. ‘You wanted to know what I’ve been doing? I’ve just come from Queen Hecuba who threw herself at my knees and told me something I didn’t know till now: that it was she who interceded with King Priam to spare my life. Yes and your life too, Menelaus, when we came as ambassadors into Troy. If it had not been for her and Hector, speaking up in our defence, Deiphobus would have murdered us in our beds that night. And now Hecuba was beseeching me to save the life of her daughter Polyxena. But I had to tell her that her plea came too late. I had to tell her that Polyxena was already dead. She died because Neoptolemus wanted her dead and because King Agamemnon assented to her death. And she died bravely
with her breast bared under the sword because she wanted to die rather than endure any more of the suffering we have inflicted on her people. So I had no comfort for that wretched queen, and she had only curses for me and for the entire Argive host.’ By now Odysseus was shaking as he spoke. ‘It was from those curses that I learned how Locrian Aias tried to rape Cassandra in the temple of Athena. Of Athena, I say — the very goddess who came to me in a dream and gave us victory. Yet we have defiled her holy place with our lust and taken her sacred image as spoil. And this on top of the slaughter of countless men who lay down their arms because they saw no hope except in our mercy. And all of this in breach of our given word. ’
Out of the silence someone jeered, ‘You did your share of the killing, Odysseus. I saw you going at it like a man possessed.’
Odysseus turned and held the man’s stare. ‘To my shame I acknowledge it. But I for one take no pride in such a victory. I accept my share in guilt. And I will be amazed if the gods fail to punish us for the crimes we have committed here.’
‘Enough,’ Agamemnon bellowed. ‘Would you call down the wrath of the gods on all our heads?’
When Odysseus answered grimly that he feared that was done long before he spoke, Agamemnon leapt to his feet. ‘I’ve heard enough of this. Keep your shame to yourself, Odysseus of Ithaca. War is war and men fight and win it as best they can. We have done nothing that Priam and his Trojans would not have done to us had the gods given them the chance. Nothing, do you hear me? Now this council is over. I’ll summon it again when you’re all back in your right minds.’
The Return From Troy Page 6