by Glyn Iliffe
Eperitus’s eyes widened in disbelief as the king spoke, though his growing anger was not without concern at the strange shift in his friend’s character.
‘Listen to yourself, Odysseus! Can this really be you speaking? You know the armour should go to Ajax, and as for what Achilles said—’
Odysseus held up a finger.
‘Enough, Eperitus. I’m going to my hut to prepare and I’m taking Omeros and Eurylochus with me. You are to stay here and keep a close eye on the armour – I don’t trust that oaf Ajax not to come and take it while I’m gone. But listen, old friend,’ he added, softening his tone and putting his hands on Eperitus’s shoulders. ‘I’m serious about winning this debate, and I want you to witness for me. Can I count on you?’
Eperitus’s eyes narrowed.
‘You know I’ll always serve your best interests,’ he answered.
When Odysseus returned it was to find Ajax already there, standing Titan-like before the ranks of seated warriors with Teucer and Little Ajax standing at his shoulders. His massive fists were balled up on his hips and he looked for every man on the beach as if the armour were already his. Odysseus entered the circle of benches where the Council of Kings was ready to sit in judgment, wearing a plain tunic and the faded purple cloak Penelope had given him at their parting on Ithaca ten years before. He had always scorned fine clothes and decorative armour in a debate, feeling they were the cheap tricks of lesser men, hoping to awe their audience with a show of wealth and power, rather than winning them over by the skill of their argument.
The two warriors stood almost shoulder to shoulder before the King of Men, who kept them waiting – along with the council and the rest of the army – while he spoke in low tones with Nestor and Menelaus. Ajax crossed his hands over the small of his back and looked at Odysseus from the corner of his eye.
‘What are you hoping to gain by this, Odysseus?’ he whispered. ‘If you wanted something from me, you know all you needed to do was ask. But challenging my claim—’
‘I have a right to the armour, too.’
‘Is it because I beat you in the discus throw? Or are you just trying to antagonize me? Because if you are, you’re succeeding. But if you drop your claim now I’ll think none the worse of you.’
Odysseus looked up at the towering form of Ajax, catching his fierce eye.
‘I don’t have that choice, Ajax. And if I lose your friendship over this, then I’m sorry.’
Ajax glared back at him, then began rocking on his heels, making his impatience obvious to Agamemnon as he fidgeted and blew through his teeth. That he was the greatest fighter in the whole Greek alliance could no longer be disputed since the death of Achilles, and if the King of Men’s decision was to be based on fighting prowess alone then the victory would doubtless be his. But Odysseus had two assets that Ajax had not – his shrewd intelligence and his voice. The eventual owner of Achilles’s armour would not be decided in battle, but by argument and counterargument. And as the bloated sun shimmered above the distant edge of the ocean, the contest was wide open.
Finally, the whispered discussion between the three kings ended and Agamemnon turned to Ajax and Odysseus. Sliding his left ankle up on to his right knee, he leaned back and placed a thoughtful finger to his lips.
‘Of all the men in this army,’ he began, ‘there are few I rely on for counsel and strength in battle as much as you two. But only one of you can win this debate and claim the armour of Achilles; the loser, I fear, will regard the other with jealousy and even animosity. For it is a glorious prize, the likes of which no man has been tempted with for many generations. So, for the sake of our greater goal – the defeat and sack of Troy – I ask you to relinquish your claims and forsake this divisive contest before it begins.’
‘I will not surrender my right to the armour,’ Ajax announced, glaring at the King of Men. ‘Achilles was my cousin. I was as close a kinsman to him as any here, and that alone would raise my claim above all others.’ He glanced sidelong at Odysseus, then, unclasping his hands from behind his back, stepped forward and punched a finger towards Agamemnon. ‘But I make no blood claim on his armour. I don’t need to. Thetis said it should be awarded to the most courageous of the Greeks who fought before the Scaean Gate, and that man is me!’
There was a rumble of approval from the seated ranks of the army, but Odysseus showed no sign of doubt or fear. Agamemnon sighed and leaned back in his gold-plated throne.
‘And what evidence do you have to back your statement?’ he asked in a calm voice.
‘What evidence?’ Ajax exclaimed. He turned and looked at the faces of the seated kings and leaders. ‘What evidence, he asks. Well, perhaps, my lord, you were too far back in the ranks to notice that I have been in the front line of every battle we have fought since arriving in this accursed land. I can’t even begin to count the Trojans I’ve killed, and if I listed the names of the noblemen who’ve fallen to my spear then we would be here until long after the moon has risen.
‘But I know you were there, my lord Agamemnon, when I fought Hector to a standstill on the slopes above the Scamander. As was Odysseus, who said nothing when Hector challenged us to offer up a champion. No, it was left to me on that occasion. And where were you when the Trojans breached the walls and attacked the ships, Odysseus? I didn’t see you when I was fighting them off from the prows of the galleys, because you were skulking in Agamemnon’s tent with a mere flesh wound! Am I wrong?’
Odysseus looked briefly down at his feet as he composed himself, then placed his hands carefully on his hips and shook his head.
‘You know you’re wrong, Ajax. We all do. I was neither skulking, nor was it just a flesh wound that kept me from the struggle. While you were fighting a losing battle, hoping that brawn alone could hold back the victorious Trojans, I was convincing Patroclus to put on Achilles’s armour and lead the Myrmidons into the attack. While your muscles were saving a single galley, my brains were saving the whole army.’
He spoke calmly, without anger or mockery, and in a tone that convinced every listener of the truth of what he was saying. There were nods and murmurs among the crowd of onlookers as men accepted his argument, only surprised they had not realized it before.
‘I’ve done my fair share of fighting, too,’ Odysseus continued. ‘I’ve been in as many battles as you have, Ajax, and more. Where were you when Achilles and I captured Lyrnessus, Adramyttium and Thebe, for instance?’ Ajax opened his mouth to protest, but Odysseus held up a finger to silence him. ‘Save your objections; I don’t deny you’ve killed more Trojans than I have and could probably recount each of their names one after another until the cock crows. But there’s much more to war than blind savagery, and not least for those of us who have the privilege of command. We must be in the forefront of every battle or risk losing the respect of our men, but we must also have an eye on the greater goals. And in that I surpass you, Ajax. What were you doing when the army was close to mutiny during the winter months? Well, while you practised your discus throwing with Achilles, I was suggesting the attacks on Lyrnessus, Adramyttium and Thebe to keep the army busy and to bring in some much-needed loot, not to mention cutting Troy’s supplies from the south. And I was the one who thought up a way to defeat the Amazons. Without me, Ajax, the best men in Greece – yourself included – would have been dead on the plains with poisoned arrows peppering their rotting corpses, while the rest of the army sailed back home in defeat.’
Ajax spat on the sand.
‘Words and tricks – is that all you have to boast of, Odysseus? When all’s said and done, a man’s courage and honour is determined by his performance in battle; courage is the measure by which Achilles’s armour will be awarded, and in that I surpass you! Was it intelligence and cunning that carried the body of Achilles out of the clutches of the Trojans and all the way back here, in spite of their countless spears and arrows? Of course not – it was the strength and bravery of Ajax, son of Telamon!’
His words were gree
ted by a rumble of approval from the army crowded about the circle of benches.
‘And was it my intelligence and cunning that covered your back as you carried Achilles?’ Odysseus replied, turning to look his opponent in the eye. ‘No, it was my courage and skill that saved you, Ajax. Without me you wouldn’t even have reached the fords of the Scamander. My bravery is a match for yours and you know it!’
‘By Ares’s sword!’ Ajax snapped. ‘If you hadn’t have been there, Odysseus, I would have fought the Trojans with one hand and dragged Achilles’s body back to the ships with the other.’
‘The armour should be given to Ajax!’ Little Ajax shouted, raising his arms in the air. ‘Odysseus is nothing but a clever fraud. Award the armour to Ajax!’
Suddenly knots of men stood and began to cheer and shout Ajax’s name. Odysseus recognized them as a mixture of Locrians and Ajax’s own men, who had been deliberately spread out among the army. But they were quickly joined by others and soon almost every man was on his feet and roaring approval for Ajax. At last the chanting died away as the heralds persuaded and cajoled the dense ranks to sit back down in the sand.
‘You’ve heard what Odysseus and I have to say, my lord,’ Ajax said, turning to Agamemnon with a triumphant smile. ‘And you’ve heard what the army thinks. Now it’s time to make your decision—’
‘Not quite,’ Odysseus interrupted. ‘There’s one other opinion that should be heard, an opinion more important than either mine, Ajax’s, or even that of the whole army.’
Agamemnon narrowed his eyes at Odysseus, then slowly scanned the circle of benches. Complete silence had fallen as the vast audience waited in expectation.
‘Whose?’ Agamemnon asked after no one else had stepped forward.
‘The opinion of Achilles himself.’
‘Achilles?’ exclaimed Ajax. ‘What nonsense is this? Can you conjure up the dead now, Odysseus?’
Odysseus took a step closer to Agamemnon.
‘When Achilles fell, Eperitus and I were the first to reach him. I took his head in my lap and tried to comfort him as the fear of death settled upon him. Then he clutched at me and asked that I hear his final words. I bent my ear to his mouth.’
The faces of the council were rapt in awe as Odysseus paused for effect, each of them clearly desperate to know what Achilles’s final words had been. Even Ajax was staring wide-eyed and dumbfounded as Odysseus brushed away a dramatic tear. Words and tricks, Ajax had sneered; but words and tricks were going to steal the armour of Achilles from his fingertips. The king of Ithaca looked up and scanned the faces of the waiting audience.
‘He pulled me near with the last of his strength and whispered these words: “To you, Odysseus, I bequeath my glorious armour, to be worn honourably as a token of my gratitude.” As Athena is my witness, I swear this was his last wish. But don’t take my word for it. Ask Eperitus.’
There was uproar. Men of every rank suddenly began talking at the same time, their exclamations of disbelief and shock growing increasingly louder as they shouted to be heard. And as more and more turned to face Eperitus, Odysseus looked at his friend and saw the doubt and internal debate reflected in his eyes.
‘Silence!’ Agamemnon bellowed, standing and raising his golden staff above his head. The babble of voices fell away. ‘This contest is not decided yet. If your claim is true, Odysseus, the armour of Achilles is yours. But first I must have confirmation from Eperitus.’
Ajax, who had been aghast and speechless up to that point, stepped forward.
‘No! Eperitus is Odysseus’s man. He will say whatever Odysseus wants him to say.’
‘Eperitus is a man of honour,’ Agamemnon countered, turning his cold blue eyes on the Ithacan. ‘I will take him at his word. Tell us truthfully and on your oath, Eperitus: did Achilles promise Odysseus his armour?’
Eperitus looked at Odysseus, then raised himself slowly to his feet.
‘It’s true, Achilles did confer his armour on Odysseus,’ he admitted. ‘But those were not his last words. “To be worn honourably as a token of my gratitude,” he said, “for of all the Greeks, you alone have come to my aid.” He uttered this with his final breath, unaware that Ajax was fighting off the Trojans only a few paces away.’
Eperitus dropped back down on the bench and put his head in his hands, just as all around him every other member of the council leapt to their feet and began to shout again. But this time they were not calling out in shock or disbelief. Now they were hurling curses and accusations at the king of Ithaca, while Odysseus stood in the eye of the storm staring at his captain. Had Eperitus told the truth to uphold his own sense of honour, or was he doing what he thought was best for his king? Odysseus knew it was the latter, and he did not blame him.
‘Shut up, damn you all!’ Menelaus yelled.
When the voices showed no sign of abating, he pointed to Talthybius, who raised a horn to his lip and blew. Once again a reluctant silence fell over the debate.
‘Then the judgment has yet to be made,’ Ajax declared. ‘Come, Agamemnon, you’ve seen the trickery and deceit this man is capable of. Make your decision and make it quickly.’
Agamemnon sat back down and shook his head.
‘I’ve a mind to bury this cursed armour along with Achilles’s ashes in that barrow, where it can’t cause any more trouble.’
‘And have some grave robber steal it when the war has ended and we’ve all sailed home?’ Odysseus replied. ‘That would be folly indeed. But I’ve another suggestion, if you’ll hear it. Ajax and I have proved ourselves equal in our valour: but if you want to know who was the most courageous, then ask the Trojans we fought. Let them decide between us.’
‘A fair proposal,’ Agamemnon said. ‘What do you say, Ajax?’
Ajax gave a surly nod and Talthybius was sent with an armed escort to fetch a dozen of the men who had been captured during the retreat from the Scaean Gate. It was not long before Talthybius returned, followed by a procession of bruised and dishevelled-looking Trojans with their wrists bound together by leather cords. Most were tired old men or frightened lads, and without their armour and weapons they looked little better than a band of slaves. Only three had the demeanour of true warriors, their bodies marked with old battle scars and their eyes proud and still belligerent. It was one of these that Agamemnon beckoned forward.
‘What’s your name?’ he asked in the Trojan tongue.
‘Lethos, son of Thymoites.’
‘You fought in the battle by the Scaean Gate?’
‘I fought by the Gate, my lord, where Achilles was killed. And then I joined the pursuit of your army across the plain.’
‘Where you surrendered your arms and your honour,’ Agamemnon non replied, a hint of stiffness in his voice. ‘I want you and your countrymen to answer a simple question. Reply truthfully and you will enjoy meat and wine for a month, instead of bread and water. Do you speak Greek?’
Lethos nodded.
‘Then tell us who the Trojans fear most among the Greeks,’ Ajax demanded, towering over the man.
Lethos looked up at the giant warrior, then about at the faces of the rest of the council. He walked back to join his comrades and spoke with them in whispers, before returning to stand between Agamemnon and Ajax.
‘I know you, my lord. Many times I have seen you in battle, killing without mercy or prejudice. I also saw you carry away the body of the Butcher – Achilles – as strong and tireless as an ox. Yes, the name of King Ajax is well known and greatly feared in Troy.’
Ajax gave a satisfied nod and looked at Agamemnon. ‘You hear? I am the one they fear the most. Give the armour to me.’
‘Your pardon, my lord,’ Lethos interrupted, narrowing his eyes determinedly while taking a step back. ‘We were not asked who we feared the most, but who fought with the greatest courage at the Gate. Though you proved your strength, there was another who wrought havoc among our ranks, killing Trojans by the dozen and preventing us in our fury from capturing Achilles’s body.
He was the man who captured me, and he is standing there.’
The assembly erupted in uproar once more as he pointed at Odysseus, but another blast on Talthybius’s horn brought silence.
‘Then the matter is decided,’ Agamemnon declared. ‘Talthy-bius, take these men back and give them meat and wine. Odysseus, come forward and claim what is yours. But first I insist that you and Ajax take oaths of friendship to each other . . .’
‘Friendship?’ Ajax boomed. ‘With a liar and a cheat? No, not I! Take your armour, Odysseus, and wear it with a fool’s pride. You may have frightened these Trojan women into choosing you, but I tell you now that armour will never bring you glory. As far as I’m concerned, it will be a mark of shame. May it be your downfall!’
He spat in the sand at Odysseus’s feet then stormed past him, shoving aside Idomeneus and Sthenelaus and kicking over one of the benches before forcing a passage through the packed soldiers beyond. On the opposite side of the circle, Eperitus rose heavily and slipped away into the crowd, unable to watch as Odysseus stepped forward to claim the armour of Achilles.
‘What will you do now?’
Eperitus turned to see Arceisius following him, an anxious look on his ruddy face.
‘I can’t stay here, that’s for sure. I told the truth before the council, thinking I was saving Odysseus from his own folly, and then Agamemnon awarded him the armour anyway.’
‘You only did what you thought was right.’
‘I betrayed him! Perhaps all that’s left to me now is to get a horse and ride south, possibly find a ship back to Greece.’
‘And Astynome?’
Eperitus looked at Arceisius. In his shame at his disloyalty he had not thought about the woman he loved. Just then, Omeros appeared.
‘What is it?’ Eperitus snapped, annoyed by the concern on the young bard’s face.
‘I just wanted to say you were right to tell the truth back there, sir.’
Eperitus felt a sudden stab of guilt. He looked at Omeros and shrugged his shoulders.