‘Speak up,’ Agamemnon said. ‘It’s why I need you here.’
‘Very well. Consider this. We all know that Odysseus is no coward! Something else must be keeping him at home. The last I heard from the island it was rumoured that Penelope was with child again. The letter says nothing of this, but if his wife is coming close to term, Odysseus would surely keep it to himself lest some evil fate cause yet another miscarriage.’
Agamemnon scratched his beard and looked across at the spoiled favourite among his own children, who had slipped down from Nestor’s knee as he was speaking and was now trying to pull the old man away to play with her outside. ‘Not now,’ her father frowned. ‘Be patient or I’ll send you away.’ He looked back up at Nestor. ‘If you’re right, and Penelope does bring the child to term, we could have a hard time winkling him off the island. What do you suggest?’
‘My first thought,’ Nestor answered, ‘is that you say nothing to the other princes about this. Tell them only that the weather over Ithaca is foul and Odysseus saw no need to make the long journey to Mycenae at this time, but is content to wait for further instructions.’ Nestor smiled and gave a suave little shrug. ‘After all, it’s not so far off the truth.’ Holding the little girl gently by the slender stems of her wrists, he clapped her hands as she laughed. ‘Then once the council is over, and they’ve gone back to rally their troops, let Menelaus go to Ithaca, but not alone. He should take someone guileful with him. Someone who can match wits with the wily Ithacan. I’m thinking of Palamedes. He’s a young man still, but he’s clever, and he’s committed to the cause. He may be just the fellow we need.’
As the story now turns to Ithaca, I Phemius, may be forgiven for introducing a personal note, for though I cannot yet have been five years old when Menelaus came to our small island, I still recall the feast that Odysseus held to celebrate the birth of his son. That day my father, the bard Terpis, sang before the gathered people. I remember swelling like a bullfinch in my pride, and thinking that if one could not be a prince, then the next best fate was to be a poet and sing for men and gods. I remember the sunlight through the plane trees, and the thick caress of honey on my tongue. And I tell myself also that there is a picture of Odysseus in my mind, happiest of men that day, wearing vine leaves in his hair and dancing lightly to the throb of the lyre like a breathing statue of a god.
I cannot truthfully say that I remember anything about the arrival of Menelaus and Palamedes. What I know of that fateful encounter I learned much later from the lips of Penelope when she told the story to Telemachus one day. He and I were almost young men by then and had long been friends of the heart. It was a grief to Telemachus that he had no memories of his father, and a greater grief that his mother was already under siege from several suitors. Angered by their manner, he had again demanded to know why his father had abandoned them alone on Ithaca to pursue the madness of the war at Troy. I was sitting beside him as his mother answered, and I think I learned the true tale of what happened when Menelaus and Palamedes came to Ithaca. It is a little different from the tale the people tell, for they attribute to a ruse of madness what was, in fact, a craziness of grief occasioned by an oracle.
That story tells how Odysseus was so unwilling to go to war that he tried to convince Menelaus he had lost his wits. Dressing himself like a peasant, he yoked an ox and an ass to his plough and began to sow his field with salt. Only when Palamedes snatched Telemachus from his mother and threw him in front of the ploughshare did Odysseus act in a way that betrayed his ruse.
The truth is subtler and more painful.
The whole island was so drunk with joy and merriment that day that the ship beating in off the mainland docked unnoticed for a time. As they climbed from the cove through the heat of the afternoon to look for Odysseus in the palace, Menelaus and Palamades heard the sounds of song and laughter drifting down the hill. They caught the hot smell of an ox roasting on the spit and knew that old Nestor had been right in his speculation: the Prince of Ithaca had an heir at last.
The feast itself, however, was more rustic than they would have guessed. Laertes, father of Odysseus and Lord of Ithaca, sat in state on a carved throne that had been carried out of the palace and placed under a vine-thatched awning, from where he stroked his beard and beamed on the happy throng. His plump wife Anticlea sat beside him, nursing a swaddled, week-old infant in her lap as she chatted with the women who gathered about her, cooing at the sleeping babe. But Odysseus and Penelope were indistinguishable from the dancing shepherds and their wives. Only when the music stopped and the line broke up in laughter and applause did Menelaus recognize the short, bandy-legged man in a homespun tunic who stepped forward with his hands spread in welcome.
‘The King of Sparta honours us,’ he cried and the crowd’s gasp became a din of excited chatter, while under the crown of vine-leaves, the eyes of Odysseus glittered with pleasure and defiance.
Penelope came to stand beside him, as graceful in her simple rural dress as she had been in her royal robes at Sparta. Though her thoughts had darkened at the sight of Menelaus, there was no sign of it about her face, which was tanned and glowing. Nor was there anything of Helen’s sultry enchantment about her smile. She might have been a dairymaid had it not been for her unflustered poise in the presence of a king, and the regal lines of her high-boned cheeks.
‘Be welcome in our house, my lords,’ she said. ‘You come at a happy time.’
‘So I see, so I see.’ Menelaus bowed towards Laertes and Anticlea, who dipped their heads in shy acknowledgement. Then he stepped forward to take Penelope warmly in his arms. ‘My dear, I am so very happy for you at last. It was more than time that the gods favoured you.’
‘But they have already blessed me with a loving husband and a good life here on Ithaca,’ she answered. ‘Now we have a son to make our happiness complete.’
Menelaus observed the hint of wariness in her smile but turned away from it to greet her husband. He clapped his arms about the smaller man’s shoulders and squeezed him like a bear. ‘You’re a lucky man, Odysseus.’ And at the unspoken contrast between the evident happiness around him and the bitter condition of his own marriage, a surge of grief and self-pity rose from his chest to his throat. For an instant, with his face pressed against that of his friend, the King of Sparta was blinking back tears.
Odysseus was the first to pull away. ‘Surely you’ll admit that I deserve no less?’ he laughed. ‘Come, you and your companion must wet the baby’s head.’
‘This must be his naming day. How shall we call him?’
‘Telemachus,’ Odysseus answered proudly.
‘Decisive Battle,’ Menelaus smiled. ‘A good name and a good omen!’
With a reassuring glance at Penelope, Odysseus looked over Menelaus’s shoulder at the vaguely familiar figure of a fashionably dressed young man, whose sharp, deep-set eyes were taking in the up-country, sheep-fair feel of the festivities. Menelaus gestured to his companion. ‘You remember Palamedes, son of Nauplius of Euboea? He was with us in Sparta for the wedding.’ Smiling, Palamedes took the proffered hand. ‘We seem to meet on lively occasions, Lord Odysseus. I was one of those you forced to stand barefoot on bloody horse-meat and swear undying loyalty to this fellow here.’
‘I remember it well,’ Odysseus smiled back. ‘I also remember losing money at your game of dice and stones! And now I hear tell you’ve invented a new system of measures and weights on Euboea. Come, take some wine, and tell me about it. Where’s young Sinon gone with the carving-knife? My friends here need meat. Make room at the benches there.’ But neither man had missed the brisk chill of incipient hostility that passed invisibly between them, as though, for a moment, they had stood in each other’s shadow and shut out the sun.
Late that night, Odysseus sat up with Menelaus and Palamedes on a balcony overlooking the cliff where they could hear the sea toiling on both sides of the narrow isthmus. A few merrymakers still sang at the benches under the trees. The baby had been washed and s
uckled and put down some hours earlier but Odysseus knew that Penelope would still be awake on the bed of olive-wood that he had built for them with his own hands when he first brought her to Ithaca. Weary as he was, he did not expect to see much sleep that night, but right now he was prepared to wait.
These men had sought him out. Let them begin.
Menelaus, who had been sitting with his eyes closed as he rubbed his knuckles across his brow, heaved a large sigh and stretched his legs. ‘Need I say that we were disappointed by your response to Agamemnon’s summons?’
Odysseus pursed his lips in an arch tilt of the head.
‘We were counting on you for at least sixty ships,’ said Palamedes.
‘You have seen how small my island is,’ Odysseus answered, smiling still. ‘If you can find sixty ships here you may keep four fifths of them, with my blessing.’
‘No doubt other ships await your word on Same, Dulichium and Zacynthus.’
Odysseus arched his brows. ‘Agamemnon has all the hosts of Argos at his command. The Cretan fleet will almost certainly join with him since he’s set Idomeneus against his father, and here you are with the might of Euboea and Sparta. So why would you need to trouble the peace of our dull sheepfolds?’
‘You seem to be well informed,’ Palamedes smiled.
‘I try to keep my ears open.’
Menelaus cleared his throat. ‘Be straight with us, Odysseus. It’s you we need.’
Palamedes picked up the jug from the table. On the excuse that his stomach had been weakened by the sea-passage, he had drunk very little, but he poured more wine into his host’s goblet now. ‘Your reputation for courage and cunning reaches far across the Aegean. Where Odysseus goes, others will follow’
‘Then let them follow my example and stay at home.’
‘I can’t do that,’ said Menelaus. ‘I can’t just let her go.’
Odysseus studied the anguish in his friend’s eyes for a long moment. ‘I know,’ he said, ‘and my heart bleeds for you. But surely there are better ways to catch a stray mare than setting fire to the forest? Surely this whole wretched affair could be managed through negotiation? Telamon can have no use for Hesione now that he’s bed-ridden. It’s time he saw reason. Let there be an exchange of hostages. That’s the way to get Helen back.’ He paused, remembering how proud Menelaus had been that day in Sparta: then added, ‘-- if you still want her, that is.’
Menelaus took a swig at his wine and glanced away. ‘It’s too late for that.’
‘Why?’ Odysseus demanded. ‘Because your heart is so badly wounded that only blood will heal it? Or because your brother’s mind is set on war?’
When Menelaus did not answer, Palamedes said, ‘The Trojans gave Menelaus their word that they came as friends to Argos seeking peace. This war is of their making. It surprises me that the Prince of Ithaca shows so little stomach for the enterprise. Agamemnon led me to believe that you and he have often talked together of taking Troy. Is that not so?’
‘Yes, it’s so. Just as I once talked with Theseus about sailing westwards round the coast of Africa just to see what was there! I was a younger man then, and full of idle dreams.’
Palamedes said, ‘There is nothing idle in the thought of taking Troy. It has been done.’
‘Yes, and Telamon never stops bragging about it! What he always fails to mention is that the Earthshaker had already flattened the city and salted the land with a great wave before he and Heracles came. And that was thirty years ago at a time when the Trojans were so desperate they were ready to propitiate the gods with human sacrifice. Things have changed since then. Priam has built a mighty city on the ruins of his father’s town. And the Dardanians, Mysians, Lydians, and Lycians have all grown wealthy with him. He might even be able to call on the Amazons and the Hatti Empire beyond the Red River further east.’ Odysseus forestalled interruption. ‘You’re quite correct, my friend. I did think about taking Troy once -- until I saw it for the madness that it was. Heed my counsel and stick to your dice -- the odds are more in your favour there.’
Palamedes was eager to retort but Menelaus reached out a hand to restrain him. ‘This isn’t like you, Odysseus,’ he said. ‘I’ve never known danger or difficulties knock the heart out of you before.’
‘My heart is strong enough. So is my brain. Also I have a wife now, and a son.’
‘Menelaus also has a wife,’ Palamedes said, ‘and so do many men. If all of them thought as you do, then our Trojan friends would feel free to ravish their wives at leisure. Who knows but that your own might not be next?’
Odysseus narrowed his eyes. ‘This has been a happy day, my lords, and we have drunk much wine.’ He got to his feet. ‘You are the guests of my house. I think it better that we sleep than that we quarrel.’
‘We’re not looking for a quarrel,’ Menelaus said. ‘It’s your help I need. All Argos needs it. I thought you were my friend, Odysseus.’
‘I am. And as your friend I counsel you against this madness.’ Odysseus looked down to where the surf was breaking white in the moonlight at the foot of the cliff. Then he sighed, shook his head, and seemed to reach a decision. ‘I knew you would be coming, and I knew what you would ask. Even before Agamemnon summoned me to Mycenae, I had taken the omens on this matter.’
‘And what did they say?’
‘That a war against Troy would drag on for ten years before it ended.’
Menelaus winced. ‘Who gave you this judgement?’
After a moment’s hesitation Odysseus said, ‘It came to me in a dream.’
‘Ah,’ said Palamedes, ‘a dream!’
‘A dream which I took to the oracle on our island. The old priestess there serves Earth-Mother Dia. She has snake wisdom and second sight. It was she who read the meaning of the dream for me.’
Palamedes smiled into his wine-cup. ‘Stranger and stranger!’ Menelaus said, ‘My own soothsayers at the Bronze House in Sparta have assured me that Helen will return. They said nothing of it taking so long.’ He took in the shrug with which Odysseus looked away. Both men knew well enough that it was not unknown for priests to prophesy what their masters wished to hear.
In the silence Palamedes said, ‘So will you share this portentous dream with us?’ Odysseus looked away from him to Menelaus, who glanced up from his wine-cup with entreaty in his eyes. The Euboean added, ‘Or must the princes of Argos be left to think that Odysseus stays at home because he has bad dreams?’
Without looking at him, Odysseus sat down again. When he spoke it was to neither of these difficult guests but to the night glittering above him and the dark sea below.
‘In the dream I had yoked an ox and an ass to my plough and was scattering salt over my shoulder in the furrows as I worked the land. At the end of the tenth furrow I was stopped in my tracks by the sight of an infant boy that somebody had thrown before my ploughshare.’
There was a lull in the singing from the benches and the silence felt louder now. The two other men waited, but Odysseus said no more.
‘That was it?’ said Menelaus.
Odysseus nodded grimly.
‘A droll dream,’ said Palamedes. ‘What did your wise-woman make of it? Not that Menelaus was the ox and myself the ass, I trust?’
Odysseus refused to rise to the jibe. ‘Diotima knew without my telling her that war with Troy was much on my mind. She reminded me that the ox is Zeus’s beast of summer and the ass the winter beast of Cronos. Each furrow in my dream stands for a year. To sow them with salt means ten wasted years.’ He fixed his eyes on the two men. ‘Diotima prophesied two other things: that I would shortly have a son, and that the decisive battle for Troy would not come until ten years had been thrown away. Her first prophecy has already come to pass.’
‘So the dream also gave your son his name,’ Palamedes smiled. ‘A powerful dream, it seems, as well as droll -- if your old lady of the snakes has it right.’
Odysseus said, ‘I for one would not care to argue with the Earth Mother.’
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‘No more would I. But oracles and dreams are both notorious riddlers. What if the furrows represented not years but months? Might not ten summer months and ten winter months be encompassed within two years?’
Menelaus, about whom gloom had gathered like a pall, instantly brightened at the suggestion. ‘Two years! That seems a more reasonable estimate for a campaign against Troy -- especially with Odysseus there to help us win it.’
‘And little Telemachus would hardly have gained the power of speech by then.’ Palamedes glanced at Menelaus. ‘I see his mother suckles him at her own breast, so all our friend would miss would be such pleasure in his wife as two years of sleepless nights allowed him.’
‘When you are the shrine-priest at an oracle,’ Odysseus said grimly, ‘I may look to you for guidance. Meanwhile, I shall trust the earth-wisdom of my homeland gods.’ But there was less confidence in his thoughts than in his voice.
Once again he got up and was about to bid his guests good night when Palamedes said, ‘I have been thinking about your son.’
‘What of him?’
‘That one day he will be king here - and a brave warrior, one hopes.’
‘I don’t for a moment doubt it,’ Odysseus said.
‘But will it not be great shame for him when he sails to Argos then and hears the songs of the noble deeds that were done in the war at Troy by the fathers of other men, yet cannot call upon the harper to sing of what was done by Ithaca?’
Odysseus stood in silence, his head swimming with the wine. He stared down at the ground beneath his feet as though it was already turning to salt and he could see his infant son abruptly thrown beneath a ploughshare there.
Palamedes began to speak again, that dry, suavely insidious voice, through which an ironic intellect glittered like a blade. ‘And will not those other kings have good cause to wonder why Odysseus dared to give his son such a proud name when he lacked the heart to honour the pledge that he himself had devised, and fight on his friend’s behalf in the decisive battle?’
The War At Troy Page 21