by Stephen Fry
And Achilles might indeed have dealt Agamemnon a fatal blow, there and then, had not the voice of Athena sounded deep inside him.
‘For my sake, Achilles, and for the sake of the Queen of Heaven herself, who loves you and Agamemnon equally, put up your sword! Believe me, the day will come when a glory will be yours such as man has never known – if only you can find the courage to walk away now.’
Achilles took a deep breath and sheathed his sword. In a lower voice, all the more dreadful for its quiet intensity, he said, ‘Take Briseis from me and that is the last you or the armies of the alliance will ever see of Achilles or his Myrmidons.’
Agamemnon had no such voice of divine calm and reason sounding inside him.
‘Sail away, little boy!’ he yelled. ‘We can dispense with your glamour, vanity and show. We don’t need you or your pretty Myrmidons. You may be gold, and we poor ordinary men may be of bronze, but ask any soldier out there which metal they’d rather have for a sword blade or a spearpoint – fine gold or base bronze. Sail away, and leave this war to real men.’
Before the inflamed Achilles could answer, Nestor stepped forward, arms upraised.
‘Please, please, please!’ he said. ‘If Priam and Hector could hear you now, they would laugh with joy and triumph! They would laugh and cheer! For the two greatest men of our armies to be at each other’s throats is a disaster for the noble cause to which we are all sworn. Listen to me. I have seen more years in this world than the two of you combined. I have fought the wild centaurs of the hills with Pirithous and Theseus. I was in the hunt for the untameable Calydonian Boar and the quest for the Golden Fleece of Colchis, side by side with every hero you have ever heard of.fn23 Believe me when I tell you that infighting like this is a graver threat to us even than Lord Apollo’s plague. Agamemnon, great lord! Show your power and wisdom. Give up Chryseis –’
‘Haven’t I already said that I will do so?’
‘– and agree not to seek to replace her with Achilles’ prize. Achilles, fall on your knees before your supreme commander. The royal and divine sceptre in his hands tells us that Agamemnon is our king of kings, anointed by Zeus.fn24 Recognize this. If you embrace each other, we cannot lose.’
‘Yes, yes, that’s all very well,’ said Agamemnon, before Achilles could reply; ‘but this spoiled brat has set himself up against me. He thinks he is the key that will unlock Troy and release Helen. An army needs a clear understanding of who commands. We will do better without him and his petulant tantrums.’
‘And you will do without me!’ said Achilles. ‘Hear me proclaim this, you loathsome turd from the arse of Typhon. From this moment on, I declare myself out of your war. The gods themselves could not persuade me to lift one finger to help bring your brother’s precious wife out of Troy. She’s nothing to me – and you, King of Pigs, are less than nothing to me. The day will come when you crawl weeping to me on your knees like the trail of treacherous slime you are, begging for me to fight. And when that day comes, I will laugh in your face.’
Achilles stalked out, head held high. Silence fell over the assembly. Agamemnon gave a sharp bark of contempt.
‘We are well rid of him. Now, to work.’
Chryseis was fetched and accompanied Odysseus back to her father’s city of Chryse on a ship loaded with cattle and lambs for sacrifice, as directed by Calchas. Next, Agamemnon summoned two of his heralds, TALTHYBIUS and EURYBATES.
‘Go to Prince Achilles’ headquarters and order him to hand Briseis over to you. Tell him that, if he refuses, I will come and fetch her myself.’
The heralds bowed and made their way, gulping with trepidation, along the shore to where the Myrmidon ships were beached. In front of them stood the cluster of tents and huts belonging to Achilles and his personal staff.
Achilles welcomed them with something approaching warmth. ‘Come in, come in. I know why you’re here. Don’t be afraid. I have no quarrel with you. Patroclus, fetch Briseis. You’ll take some wine with me, gentlemen?’
The heralds broke into relieved smiles. When Achilles chose, he could dazzle with unforced charm.
Patroclus found Briseis and told her of her fate. She dropped her head.
‘I’m sorry, princess,’ said Patroclus. ‘What must be, must be. He does not want to let you go. We will see what we can do to get you back. He will miss you. I will miss you.’
Patroclus watched Talthybius and Eurybates escort Briseis away towards Agamemnon’s enclosure.
The moment the heralds had departed, Achilles dropped his outward show of indifference. Without telling Patroclus where he was going, he abruptly left the tent. Once outside, he broke into a run, flying over the wet sand along the line of shipping, skipping over the mooring cables with all the astonishing speed and grace of which he alone amongst mortals was capable. He did not stop until he had reached a deserted part of the shore, where he sank down on his knees and cried out into the waves.
‘Mother, come to me! Help your miserable son.’
A splash, a flash and Thetis stepped from the waves and rushed to embrace her beloved boy.
Motherhood was hard for Thetis to bear. The knowledge that she would live for ever and her son for a brief burst of mortal time was a constant torment. To see him so unhappy, and for this to cause unhappiness for her, was an experience for which she had no defence. Empathy did not come naturally to immortals and, when it did, it came as pain.
‘What is it, Achilles, my love?’
Out it came: all the anguish and despair, all the rage at the injustice, betrayal, insult and ill use. If Thetis thought he was making too much of a small thing, she gave no indication. Mothers never do. All she saw was his misery and despair.
‘Outrageous, wicked, monstrous,’ she murmured, stroking his golden hair. ‘But what can I do?’
‘Zeus owes you,’ Achilles said. ‘Go to him. Tell him to send Trojans swarming over the Achaean camp, killing and killing without mercy. I want the Achaean army pinned against their ships like herded cattle. And slaughtered like herded cattle. Let Agamemnon see what disaster falls when he insults Achilles. The Greeks must lose everything. I want them humbled. I want them broken. Brought down into the dust. How dare he take Briseis away from me? How dare he? How dare he? Let the armies of Greece be pushed into the sea. Their ships can go up in flames and I will cheer. Let him come whimpering to me, sobbing for forgiveness and I will spit into his beard.’
AGAMEMNON’S DREAM
Thetis cooled her son’s burning brow, sang to him, and only left him when she was sure he would do himself no harm. She took herself up to Olympus to seek the aid of Zeus, throwing herself before his throne and grasping his knees in supplication.fn25 The King of the Gods heard her out. He loved her well and wanted to grant the favour that, as Achilles had rightly said, he owed.fn26 But he feared the wrath of Hera, his wife.
‘She has never forgiven Paris for awarding the apple to Aphrodite. You know how she hates Troy and all Trojans. If I gave them any victory over the Greeks, even if it were to please Achilles and bring Agamemnon to heel and a final Greek triumph closer, I would never hear the end of it.’
‘But you will help?’
‘I bow my head,’ he said, doing so. ‘You know that is a sign that my word is given and can never be broken. I will find a way. Leave this with me.’
Thetis left and plunged herself into the ocean. Zeus sat and plunged himself into thought.
His solution was cunning in the extreme. That night he sent a dream to Agamemnon, a dream that took the form of Nestor.
‘King of Men,’ said Dream Nestor. ‘The Sky Father is pleased to send me as a messenger with the news that tomorrow is The Day. After so many long years, the hour of Argive victory is finally come. If you raise your army and go all out to fight tomorrow, the walls of Troy will fall. Know this as the word of Zeus.’
Agamemnon awoke and spread the news for all the armies of the alliance to arm themselves and prepare for a great victory. If Nestor was surprised and puz
zled to have starred in a dream without his knowledge, he kept the fact to himself.fn27
The Trojans, meanwhile, were also preparing. Their spies in the Greek camp had told them the welcome news of Achilles’ withdrawal from combat. Hector and Priam took this as a sign that the Greek army would be demoralized and ripe for attack.
Paris armed himself in front of the mirror, admiring what he saw. Now he stalked through to the front line of Trojans gathering on their side of the River Scamander and looked across to the enemy.
The Greek army was emerging from their ships and tents like bees from a hive: thousands and thousands swarmed through the stockade and massed in formation on the plain.
For the first time in ten years, true battle lines were forming. Following Nestor’s advice, Agamemnon gave orders that they should line up according to region, tribe and clan. To have the men fighting shoulder to shoulder with their comrades, kinsmen and neighbours would be of boundless help with morale and fighting spirit, Nestor said.fn28
The front lines of the Achaean forces were led by Odysseus on the right flank, with Nestor’s son ANTILOCHUS as his deputy. Aias and Idomeneus of Crete headed the left.fn29 The centre was commanded by Diomedes and Ajax the Great.
King Agamemnon, pricked and shamed by Achilles’ accusation that he never fought, was parading majestically up and down in full battle armour in front of the whole Greek line. No one could doubt that he looked magnificent. Every inch the supreme commander. The sight of him, and of the towering Ajax in particular, caused Paris to turn and head back through the Trojan lines. His brother Hector stopped him at the Scaean Gate.
‘Damn you, Paris, we are here for you,’ he called out. ‘You are the one who defied the sacred laws of guest friendship and took Helen from Menelaus. You brought her to live amongst us. We bowed to your demands that she stay. It is for your honour and your pride that Trojan blood has been spilled this last ten years. And now you think you can turn tail and run away like a frightened kitten?’
Hector’s voice was loud enough to be heard by many Trojans. The rank and file worshipped Hector, but had grown to dislike Paris, whom they thought haughty, vain and arrogant. All show and no go. Too petty and too pretty to be trusted, that was the view in the lines.
Paris flushed to the roots of his hair. ‘You’re right, brother,’ he said with an unconvincing laugh. ‘Of course it would be wrong to run. I was going to our father the king to tell him my plan.’
‘What plan?’
The idea came fully formed into Paris’s mind even as he spoke. ‘As you say, the quarrel is strictly between me and Menelaus. So, let it be decided by us.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning, let me stand as champion for Troy and face Menelaus in single combat. If I win, Helen stays and the Greeks depart. If I lose, they can take her back to Sparta. And all the treasure I brought along with her too,’ he added in a burst of magnanimity.
Hector put a hand on his shoulder. ‘I misjudged you, brother.’
The jeers in the Trojan ranks changed to cheers as a flushed and emboldened Paris now strutted up and down before them. He had thrown a leopard skin over one shoulder, hoping to evoke a reminder of the great heroes of the past who had adorned themselves in just this fashion. Jason on the way to Iolcos, perhaps, or even Heracles in his signature costume of the hide of the Nemean Lion.
When the offer of single combat was relayed to the Greeks, Menelaus was only too pleased to accept the challenge. The ranks of Troy and Greece cheered with combined relief and excitement. They spread themselves out on the plain like a crowd of holidaymakers settling for a great picnic.
Helen, alone in her chambers, sensed the change of mood in the city. She heard shouts of delight and fanfares coming up from the streets below. She left the room and went over to the city walls to see what was happening. Priam was already up there on the ramparts and called down to her to climb the steps and sit with him. He was sitting with some of the courtiers who were too old to fight, Antenor amongst them. When they saw Helen coming up, they bent their heads and whispered to each other.fn30
‘Her beauty pierces the heart, doesn’t it?’
‘When she’s out of sight, you forget those looks. But the moment you see her – sweet Aphrodite! That there could be such beauty in a mortal woman.’
‘For all that, I wish she would leave Troy for ever and take the curse of that beauty away with her.’
Priam rose to greet Helen and the courtiers moved away. The old king was fond of his daughter-in-law and had never upbraided her for the death and disaster her presence had brought on his people.
‘Sit with me, my dear. Paris and Menelaus are about to decide the whole affair between themselves.’
‘Oh!’
Some women might have been delighted by the thought of men fighting over them, but Helen was not one.
‘See the Greeks down there,’ said Priam. ‘I have to confess they look quite splendid. Tell me, who is that tall one with the orange-coloured plume to his helmet? So powerful and commanding. A king surely?’
Helen looked down. ‘Oh, that is Agamemnon himself. He has aged a little since I last saw him.’
‘So that is the “King of Men”, is it?’
‘My brother-in-law, as was,’ said Helen in a low voice. ‘May the gods forgive me.’
‘Hush now. That broadchested fellow over there, he looks familiar. Where have I seen him before, I wonder?’
‘Oh, that’s Odysseus, son of Laertes.’
‘Of course. I remember him. When he and Menelaus came to sue for peace at the beginning … Was it really ten years ago? And is that a great tree or a man looming over him?’
Helen laughed. ‘That is Ajax of Salamis.’
Helen scanned the Greeks below, searching for two faces in particular. ‘I wonder where Castor and Polydeuces can be,’ she said. The last time she had seen her brothers had been in Sparta. They were called away during Paris’s fateful visit. Something about a sordid cattle feud with their cousins up in Arcadia. Helen wondered if Aphrodite had been behind that too, for it had been their absence – along with Menelaus suddenly having to depart for the funeral in Crete – that had allowed Paris to ransack the palace unopposed and take her to Troy so easily.
Priam did not reply. He was shocked that Helen did not know what had happened to her brothers.
The world knew that they had gone north to settle the cattle business with their cousins and that Castor had been treacherously killed. The inconsolable Polydeuces had prayed to Zeus that he might die with his beloved twin. In reply Zeus had allowed Polydeuces to accompany Castor by day to the realm of the dead, while at night they shone in the sky as Castor and Pollux, the inseparable stars of the constellation of the Twins – Gemini. As guiding stars in the night sky they had become an indispensable aid to shipping.fn31
Priam had assumed that Paris would have told Helen this news when it had reached Troy. Perhaps he had been afraid of how she would take it. She had loved her brothers the Dioscuri with all her heart.
And so they sat – Helen pointing out the Greek characters she remembered, even mimicking the voices and mannerisms of their wives. Priam smiling and gently nodding.
Whatever trance Aphrodite had put Helen in at the beginning had certainly cleared and she felt nothing for Paris now. Nothing but contempt. He had kept her as a prize, pressed himself upon her, paraded her when it suited him and boasted of his ownership of her beauty, but he had never shown her any personal affection or given her the least sign that he loved or even respected her. His younger brother Deiphobus was much the same. When others weren’t close by, he watched her with lustful eyes and spoke to her as if she was a whore. Priam, Hecuba and Hector were different. They always treated her with nothing but kindness and honour.
As Helen and Priam looked down, Menelaus and Paris emerged from the ranks of the opposing armies. The thousands upon thousands of excited warriors roared their approval and beat their weapons against their shields. Helen had neve
r heard a sound so loud. She felt the very walls of the city tremble.
SINGLE COMBAT
Menelaus and Paris had armed themselves well. With horsehair-crested helmets tucked under their arms they hefted their great bronze shields, layered with tough hide. The tips of their ash-wood spears had been freshly sharpened and flashed in the sunlight.
Prince Hector came forward with his own helmet outstretched. Into it he dropped two stones, one white and one black. Holding the helmet high, he cried out, ‘White for Prince Paris, Black for King Menelaus!’
The crowd hushed as he gave the helmet a violent shake. The white stone jumped out.
‘Prince Paris to make the first throw.’
This was to be no wild and ugly brawl but a ritualized duel. Agamemnon on his side, and Priam on his, had slaughtered oxen and goats to the gods. They and their priests were determined that this moment – the moment that, one way or the other, would see the end of the war – should be conducted in as dignified and honourable a manner as could be managed.
The massed ranks of both sides were less able to contain their excitement. A carnival atmosphere had arisen. They would be going home. No matter what happened, they would be going home. The two men now striding apart from each other were the absolute heart of the issue – Menelaus, Helen’s husband, and Paris, her lover. While the average soldier cared little who emerged victorious, there was the not inconsiderable matter of the spoils, for Paris had promised that if he lost he would hand over not just Helen but a great haul of treasure too. Most of it would go to the great kings and princes, of course, but enough would filter down to the rank and file.