The leaders took stock of the inhabitants and of the allies who had promised to come to their aid and found that in numbers and equipment they equalled the Argives. And so, with the help of the immortals—for besides Aphrodite, several other gods, among them Ares, the war-god, Apollo, and even Zeus, the father of the gods, were on their side—they hoped to withstand the siege of their city and force the enemy to retreat after not too long a time.
King Priam himself was too old to fight, but he had fifty splendid sons of all ages, of whom Hecuba had borne him nineteen: some in the flower of youth, some at the peak of their strength—before all Hector, then Deiphobus, and the most distinguished after these, Helenus, the soothsayer, Pammon, Polites, Antiphus, Hipponous, and handsome Troilus. Four lovely daughters gathered round his throne: Creusa, Laodice, Cassandra, and Polyxena, who even in early childhood had been surpassingly beautiful. Chief of the host now preparing for battle was Hector, tall in his crested helmet. Next in power was Aeneas, King Priam’s son-in-law, Creusa’s husband, a son of Aphrodite and Anchises, the aged hero who was still the pride of the Trojans. Another battalion was led by Pandarus, son of Lycaon, whose bow had been given him by Apollo himself. Other battalions, some of which were made up of the allies of Troy, were headed by Adrastus, Amphius, Asius, Hippothous, Pylaeus, Acamas, Euphemus, Pyraechmes, Pylaemenes, Hodius, and Epistrophus. Chromius and Ennomus were the leaders of auxiliaries from Mysia; Phorcys and Ascanius of similar forces from Phrygia; Mesthles and Antiphus of Maeonians; Nastes and Amphimachus of Carians; and Sarpedon and Glaucus of a Lycian army.
In the meantime, the Argives had landed and settled along the shore between the two promontories of Sigeum and Rhoeteum. Their camp was so vast that it looked not unlike an entire city. They had beached their ships and placed them in rows, one behind the other, and, since the ground sloped up from the coast, the vessels stood in tiers. The sections of the fleet belonging to the various peoples who had joined in the expedition were ranged in the order in which they had landed. Each vessel was set on a base of stones, lest the keel rot from the moisture of the ground; in this way the air could pass around and beneath them. In the first row, seen from the land, were the ships of Ajax and Achilles. Both had built their huts facing toward Troy. That of Achilles was more like a comfortable house. Attached to it were barns and stables for supplies, chariot-horses, and cattle. And beside his ship there was room for races, burial rites and games, and other festivities. Next to the ship of Ajax came that of Protesilaus, then those of other Thessalians, then of the Cretans, Athenians, Phocians, Boeotians, and the last in the first row were those of Achilles and his Myrmidons. In the second row were the Locrians among others, the Dulichians, and the Epeans; in the third were the ships of less well-known peoples, but also those of Nestor with the Pylians, Eurypylus with the Ormenians, and finally Menelaus. In the fourth and last row along the coast and nearest to the sea were Diomedes, Odysseus, and Agamemnon: Odysseus in the middle, Agamemnon to the right, and Diomedes to the left.
Before the house of Odysseus was the agora, the open place where assemblies and councils were to be held and where altars had been reared to the gods. This open place ran through the third row also and divided it, so that Nestor was to the right and Eurypylus to the left. Toward the sea there was less space to begin with, and the agora took up so much room that the third and fourth rows numbered the least ships. The camp with its ships and huts was like a city cut by many streets and alleys, but the main thoroughfares ran lengthwise through all four rows. From the land to the sea were cross streets which separated the ships of the various nations. The ships, in turn, were divided off from the huts of their crews by narrower spaces, and every nation was subdivided into several parts, according to cities or leaders. The huts were made of wood and earth and covered with reeds. Every leader had his quarters in the foremost row of his men, and every one of these lodgings was more or less elaborate according to the rank of its owner. The ships served to protect the camp as a whole. But in front of this bulwark of the fleet the Argives had heaped earth, which made way for a true wall with towers only during the last period of the siege. In front of this barricade of earth was a trench, and within it, a close-set palisade.
The king and the council of Troy had taken so long to confer on the best means of defense that the Argives had had ample opportunity to set up their camp in so careful a fashion and to complete all their arrangements. Each of the warriors had also to tend the ships. Bread was apportioned to everyone at public stations. For all other matters necessary for life, each was responsible for himself. The common soldiers had light weapons and fought on foot. Those of higher rank fought from chariots, and every one of these fighters had his own charioteer. The use of cavalry in wars was unknown to the peoples of that time. The chariots of the greatest among the heroes were intended for the front row, and always had to be the vanguard.
In the region between the Argive fleet and the city of Troy, the rivers Scamander and Simois, which joined near the camp of the Danai, enclosed the flowering meadows of the Scamander and the plains of Troy. This space was so large that it took four hours to cross it on foot. It was admirably suited for a battlefield. Behind it rose the stately city of Troy with high walls and ramparts and towers built by the hands of gods. It was situated on a height and could be seen from far off. Within, the city was hilly and cut by many thoroughfares. It was accessible—and even then only half accessible—from two sides only. On one of these stood the Scaean Gates, on the other the Dardanian Gates, both with towers. The other sides were on such uneven ground, and the undergrowth was so thick and tangled, that to enter through their gates and smaller entrances could not even be considered. In the upper city or acropolis were the palaces of Priam and Paris, the temples of Hecate, Athene, and Apollo, and on the loftiest point the temple of Zeus. In front of the city, near the river Simois and to the left of the Argives, was the hill Callicolone; to the right, the road ran by the springs of the Scamander and then past the hill called Batieia, which lay outside the town and could be circumvented. Behind Troy was the Field of Ilium, which sloped gently upward and formed the lowest level of the wooded range of Ida, whose highest peak was Gargaron, and whose two topmost ridges to the right and left of the Argives constituted the promontories of Sigeum and Rhoeteum.
Before the battle between Danai and Trojans began, the Danai were privileged to receive an honored guest. King Telephus of Mysia, who had given them such generous aid, had been suffering from the wound dealt by Achilles’ spear and the poultices prescribed by Podalirius and Machaon had long since ceased to be effective. In the throes of unbearable pain, he had consulted an oracle of Phoebus Apollo which was in his country and received the answer that only the spear which had given the wound could heal it. Though he was unable to fathom the meaning of these strange words, he had himself carried on a ship and followed the Argive fleet. When he reached the mouth of the Scamander, he ordered his men to take him to the house of Achilles. The moment the young hero saw the king in his suffering, his own pain at what he had done woke afresh. Sadly he took up his spear and laid it at the foot of the king’s bed, for he did not know in what way it could serve to heal the festering wound. A number of heroes surrounded the king and all were helpless in this matter, until Odysseus thought of again consulting the two famed physicians who traveled with the host. Podalirius and Machaon obeyed the summons, and the instant they heard the oracle of Apollo, these wise and experienced sons of Asclepius understood what was meant. They filed a little of the rust from the spear of Achilles and spread it over the wound. And then all saw a miracle: as soon as the filings touched the swollen and infected wound, it began to close before the very eyes of the heroes; in a few hours, noble King Telephus was healed with the help of the spear which had pierced him, just as the oracle had predicted. Sound and joyful he boarded his ship and left his hosts as they had but recently left him: with gratitude and blessings. But he hastened back to his own country, since he did not wish to witness th
e forthcoming struggle between the guests he had cherished and the Trojan kinsmen he loved.
FIGHTING BEGINS. PROTESILAUS. CYCNUS
While the Argives were taking King Telephus and his retinue to his ship, the gates of Troy suddenly flew open and the Trojan army in full battle array poured across the plain of the Scamander. Under the leadership of Hector, they moved toward the fleet of the unsuspecting Danai without meeting resistance. Those of the Argives who were camped farthest from the shore seized their weapons and advanced in scattered groups, but they were quickly dispatched by the foe who far outnumbered them. But even this brief struggle detained the Trojans long enough for the other Argives to assemble and advance on the enemy in ordered battle formation. Now the fighting began, but the fortunes of war were very uneven; for wherever Hector appeared the Trojans gained the upper hand, but those Dardanian warriors who fought far from him were beaten and scattered by the Argives. Among the Achaean heroes slain by the sword of Aeneas was Protesilaus, son of Iphicles. He had left for Troy as a youth, as the betrothed of the fair daughter of Acastus, the Argonaut, and he had been first to leap ashore at the landing. Now he was first to die, and never would Laodamia hail the return of the bridegroom to whom she had bidden such a sorrowful farewell.
Achilles was still far from the battlefield. He had accompanied Telephus, the king of Mysia, first wounded and then healed by his spear, down to the sea, and with thoughtful eyes watched the ship as it sailed on and faded into the distance. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder, and Patroclus, his friend and comrade-in-arms, cried: “Where have you been? The Argives need you! The fighting has begun! Hector, King Priam’s eldest son, rages at the head of his troops like a lion whose den is surrounded by hunters. Aeneas, the king’s son-in-law, has slain noble Protesilaus, your equal in youth and courage though not in strength. If you do not come, more of our heroes will be killed!”
Achilles started from his dream. He turned and saw his friend, and at the same moment he heard the distant clash of battle. Without answering he raced through the streets of the camp, making straight for his house. Once there, he found his tongue, called his Myrmidons to arms in ringing tones, and surged forward with them like stormwind and thunder. Even Hector could not withstand the force of his attack. The son of Peleus slew two sons of Priam, and from the walls the king mourned his children who had died at the hand of the Argive. Ajax fought close to Achilles. His tall form loomed above all the other Achaeans. From the strokes of these two heroes the Trojans fled like a herd of deer before a pack of hounds. They retreated to their city, and the gates of Troy closed behind them. But the Danai calmly returned to their ships and continued building their camp. Agamemnon appointed Achilles and Ajax to guard the ships, and they in turn had other heroes watch the various parts of the fleet.
Then they set about the burial of Protesilaus. They laid his body on a pyre, high-heaped and adorned, and under tall elms with far flung branches they buried his bones on the shore, where the land jutted out into the sea. Hardly had they finished performing the burial rites when a second attack surprised them in the midst of the funeral games.
Colonae, near Troy, was ruled by Cycnus. This king was a son of Poseidon, borne to the sea-god by a nymph, and reared by a swan on the island of Tenedos. For this reason he had been given the name of Cycnus, which means swan. He was an ally of Troy, and when he saw alien warriors landing, he considered himself duty-bound to come to the help of his old friend, even though King Priam had not summoned him. And so he assembled a sizable army, laid an ambush near the Argive camp, and had just settled in this hiding-place when the Danai returned as victors from their first encounter with the Trojans and began to pay the last honors to their dead. As they stood around the pyre, far from fully armed and intent only on the solemn rites they were performing, they found themselves suddenly surrounded by war chariots and warriors, and before they had time to wonder whether earth had spewed forth these fighters or where else they had come from, King Cycnus and his men had begun their ruthless slaughter.
But only a part of the Argives had attended the burial of Protesilaus. The others, who were near the ships or in their huts, had their weapons close to hand and, headed by Achilles, swiftly came to the aid of their fellows in full-armed serried ranks. Their leader, the son of Peleus, stood in his chariot, striking terror into all who beheld him, and with his death-bringing lance pierced now one, now another of the Colonians until, penetrating the enemy host, he discerned their commander-in-chief by the mighty thrusts he dealt right and left, standing erect in his battle chariot. Toward him Achilles drove his snow-white horses, and face to face with Cycnus he swung his lance with sinewy arm, calling out: “Whoever you may be, let this comfort you in death: that it is Achilles, son of Thetis, who has struck you down!” His lance followed close on his words, but though he had aimed straight and sure the point only grazed the breast of Poseidon’s son with a faint thud. Achilles measured his opponent with wondering eyes, for he seemed invulnerable.
“Do not be so amazed,” Cycnus said to him smilingly. “It is not my helmet, which you are regarding with such astonishment, and not the hollow shield in my left hand which ward the strokes from my body. I wear these merely for adornment, as Ares, the god of war, sometimes dons weapons in jest, for he does not need them to protect his immortal body. Even if I take off all my armor, your spear will not so much as scratch my skin. For from head to foot I am hard as iron. After all, you must realize that it means something to be, not the son of a mere sea-nymph, but the cherished son of him who rules over Nereus and all his daughters and all the seas. You are face to face with the son of Poseidon himself!”
With these words he cast his spear at Achilles. The point pierced his shield and passed through the bronze and nine layers of oxhide, but in the tenth it stuck. Achilles shook his shield until the lance fell out and in return hurled his at Cycnus. But still he was not harmed by it, and even the third lance Achilles flung at him left him whole and sound. And now the son of Peleus grew furious as a bull who runs at a red cloth held up to tantalize him and thrusts his horns into empty air. Once more he aimed his lance, carved of ash, at his opponent, smote his left shoulder, and shouted with joy to see blood on it. But he did not exult for long, for the blood was not that of Poseidon’s son. It came from a wound Menoetes, fighting beside Cycnus, had received from another hand. Gnashing his teeth with rage, Achilles leaped from his chariot, made for his enemy, and lunged out at him with his sword. But even this powerful weapon rebounded from that iron flesh. Then in despair Achilles raised his shield with its ten layers of hide and brought the buckle down on the temple of his invulnerable foe, three, four times. And now Cycnus faltered. His vision blurred. He retreated a few steps and stumbled over a stone. Achilles gripped him by the nape of the neck and threw him flat on the ground. Then, keeping his foe prostrate by pressing his shield and his knees against his breast, he strangled him with the strap of his own helmet.
When they saw their leader fall, the Colonians lost courage and sped from the battlefield in frantic flight. All that was left was a welter of bodies—Argives and barbarians—scattered about the half-finished burial mound of Protesilaus. And now the Argives mourned their dead and set about digging their graves.
The aftermath of this encounter was that the Danai invaded the realm of King Cycnus and from its capital, the city of Mentora, carried off his children as spoils. Then they attacked the neighboring city of Cilia, conquered it also, though it was well fortified, and returned to their carefully guarded camp, laden with vast stores of priceless booty.
THE DEATH OF PALAMEDES
Palamedes was the wisest man in the Argive army. All knew him to be tireless, just, steadfast, and thoughtful. He was of delicate build and versed in the art of singing and playing the lyre. It was his eloquence that had swayed the greater part of the princes of Greece in favor of the campaign against Troy, and his shrewdness that had discovered the ruse of the wily son of Laertes. But this had gained him an impla
cable foe, one who pondered revenge day and night and who brooded the more sullenly the more wise Palamedes was honored by the other princes. Now an oracle of Apollo informed the Argives that in the place where his statue and his temple stood they were to sacrifice a hecatomb to Apollo Smintheus—the name he was known by in Troy—and that Palamedes had been chosen to take the victims to their destination. Chryses, the priest of Apollo, was to receive the stately animals and make the offering. The worship of the sun-god in this region was of curious origin. In earlier times, when King Teucer and his men had come from Crete and landed on this part of the coast of Asia Minor, an oracle commanded them to remain where their enemies would crawl out of the ground. Now when they arrived in Hamaxitus, a city in that region, mice, slipping out of holes in the earth, came at night and gnawed at their shields. This they regarded as the fulfillment of the oracle and therefore they settled in that vicinity and erected a statue to Apollo with a mouse at his feet. In the dialect of Aeolia sminthos is the word for mouse.
So it was to Apollo Smintheus whose temple stood on a height not far from Chryse that Chryses, the priest, offered the hundred sacred sheep orought there by Palamedes. The fact that Apollo himself had chosen Palamedes for this and thus accorded him special honor only hastened his destruction. For now Odysseus began to boil with envy and thought up a despicable plan to put an end to his rival. With his own hands he concealed a sum of money in the hut of the man he hated, going there in secrecy. Then, in the name of Priam, he wrote a letter to Palamedes, in which the king of Troy expressed thanks for his having betrayed the secrets of the Argive host. This letter was allowed to fall into the hands of a captive from Phrygia, in whose possession Odysseus discovered it, apparently by chance. Immediately he ordered the innocent bearer killed. Then the son of Laertes showed the letter in an assembly of Argive princes. The indignant leaders summoned Palamedes to a council to which Agamemnon had appointed the foremost among the Achaeans and over which Odysseus had arranged to preside. At his suggestion, men were sent to dig in the accused man’s hut, and, of course, they found the gold Odysseus himself had buried under Palamedes’ couch. The judges, knowing nothing of the true state of affairs, unanimously condemned him to death. Palamedes did not deign to defend himself. He saw through the plot but had no hope of proving either his own innocence or the guilt of his enemy. When he heard that he was to die by stoning, he only cried out: “O Argives, you are about to kill a nightingale, most innocent, most wise, and rich in moving song.” But the dull princes only laughed at this singular form of defense and led Palamedes, the noblest among them, away to an unmerciful death, which he suffered with gentleness and courage. After the first stones had struck him down, he called: “Rejoice, O Truth, for you have died before me!” When he said these words, a stone thrown by vengeful Odysseus struck his temple, his head drooped and he died. But Nemesis, the patroness of justice, gazed down from the ramparts of heaven and resolved to punish the Achaeans and Odysseus, who had tricked them into this crime, at the very goal of their desires.
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