Troy

by Stephen Fry

Now they closed with each other again. Ajax pierced the shield of Hector once more and got through a glancing blow to his neck, nicking the soft skin. Hector hurled a huge rock, and Ajax replied with a boulder twice its size that brought Hector to his knees.

  Ajax moved in, and then looked up at the sky.

  ‘The light fades,’ he said, putting out a hand to Hector and helping him to his feet. Their duel was suspended. With princely gallantry Hector presented Ajax with his silver sword and Ajax knelt to offer Hector his war belt. They could not know it, but Hector’s silver sword and Ajax’s war belt would each play a huge and tragic part in the drama to come.

  Thus their single combat was honourably ended. The day’s intense fighting was over too, but the war was no closer to being decided than it had been on that first day more than nine years earlier.

  THE TIDE TURNS

  That night in Troy, in the counsel chambers of Priam’s palace, Antenor urged that Helen be returned. This Paris point-blank refused to do.

  ‘I will return the treasure I took from Sparta and Mycenae, and add treasure of my own too, but Helen I cannot and will not give up.’

  This offer, when conveyed by messengers under truce to the Achaean camp, was turned down.

  The next day the war continued on the plain. In answer to Thetis’s repeated requests that Zeus honour his promise to punish Agamemnon, the King of the Gods rained down thunderbolts on the Greeks.

  With the Achaean armies in disarray, only Nestor held firm, charging through the Trojan lines again and again in his chariot. The example of this man, twice the age of the next oldest commander, filled the Greeks with a new and desperate courage, but Nestor was finally put out of action when an arrow from Paris pierced the brain of his chariot horse. Diomedes rescued him and put him in his own chariot. A great moan of disappointment and fear arose from the Achaean ranks.

  The whole invasion force was turning tail and racing across the plain back to their ships. Agamemnon was not equal to such a reverse. He raised his head to the sky, tears streaming down his face.

  ‘You abandon us, great Zeus? All those signs and portents that drove us to believe that we would prevail, and now this? At least let my brave men escape death. If we must be defeated in war, then so be it, but this massacre is not just. Not just. Not just.’

  Zeus, who was torn, as ever, between pleasing Hera and Athena, pleasing Thetis and pleasing his own instinctive admiration for the heroes on both sides, was distressed to see Agamemnon, King of Men, sobbing like a child. He sent a great eagle, which soared over the battlefield, grasping a baby deer in its talons. The Greek army, reading this as a good omen, rallied.

  Now Teucer of Salamis, the greatest bowman on either side, went to work: under the cover of his half-brother Ajax’s shield he started sniping at enemy warriors, one after the other. Eight royal or noble Trojans fell to his arrows, but not the prize of Hector. He did get Hector’s driver Archeptolemus, however – but this just maddened Hector, who leapt down from his chariot and came at Teucer with a rock, pounding it down on the archer’s chest before he could loose off another shot from his bow. Ajax came charging forward to the rescue. He barged Hector away, scooped Teucer up and ran with him over his shoulder to the Achaean lines, pursued by a roaring Hector and what seemed like the whole Trojan army.

  The entirety of the mighty Greek expeditionary force was now crouching behind the stockade, its sharpened stakes their last desperate defence against the Trojan hordes.

  Agamemnon rose up, still in tears, still blaming Zeus for abandoning their cause.

  ‘Let us go back home,’ he wailed. ‘We are beaten. We will never take Troy. They have us pinned to the sea. They are close enough to hurl fire. We should take to our ships and leave.’

  Diomedes stood up. ‘I cannot believe that our commander has so little faith in himself or in us. The gods have given the King of Men everything. Wealth such as not even King Midas of Phrygia knew. A glorious name. The best land, the best family – everything has come to him in his life and now, at this one reverse, he squeals like a child and begs to be taken home. Well, you go home, Agamemnon. But I am staying. Sthenelus is with me, I think?’

  ‘I am!’ roared Sthenelus, banging his spear butt on the ground.fn34

  ‘Who else?’ demanded Diomedes.

  Nestor stood. ‘I stay,’ he said. ‘King of Men, dry your eyes and consider! Troy has rallied because Hector, their greatest warrior, their noblest prince, their finest fighter, is encouraging them by his example and his warcraft. We have one warrior who is more than his match – faster, fitter, stronger, abler in every regard. But he sulks in his tent, refusing to put on his armour and fight with us. Why? Because you took Briseis and insulted him. Can you not see that you should put this right?’

  Agamemnon bowed his head and beat his breast with his fists. ‘I was a fool!’ he cried. ‘The son of Thetis and Peleus is worth a division on his own. My pride and my temper got the better of me. But I shall put it right. By the Olympian Twelve, I swear I shall put it right!’

  Suddenly he seemed filled with an intoxicating mixture of remorse, resolve and determination – as passionate in his desire now to be generous to Achilles as he had been earlier to humiliate him.

  ‘I shall send gold, a dozen of the finest horses, seven slave women and, of course, this Briseis whom he values so much. You can tell him, in all truth, that I have not slept with her. And furthermore,’ Agamemnon’s voice rang with strength and confidence now, ‘furthermore, when we take Troy, Achilles can have the pick of the treasure. And when we get home, I will give him seven cities from my empire and he may choose either of my daughters to be his bride.’

  The Achaean ranks cheered. This was a most magnanimous concession. No one could refuse such an offer. By all the sacred Hellenic codes of honour, Achilles was bound to accept.

  THE EMBASSY TO ACHILLES

  Odysseus and Ajax were appointed as Agamemnon’s spokesmen, along with old Phoenix. His inclusion was Odysseus’s canny idea. After the young Achilles had left the cave of Chiron, Phoenix had been chosen by Peleus to raise him. It was known that Achilles loved the old man almost as fiercely as he loved Patroclus. The three delegates made their way to the main tent of the Myrmidon enclosure, where they found Achilles playing a silver lyre and singing a song that told of the feats of great warrior heroes of long ago. Patroclus, who had been listening, rose to welcome the deputation. Achilles bid them eat, drink and say what they had to say.

  When Agamemnon’s regret, apologies, praise and bountiful offers had been made to him, Achilles made a face of disapproval.

  ‘I know,’ said Odysseus quickly, ‘that the very generosity of Agamemnon makes you despise him the more. I understand that. But forget Agamemnon; we can agree that he is a bad and foolish king. Bear this in mind instead: when you bring down Hector, and all Troy lies open to us, your glory and fame will be such as no man, not even Heracles, ever won.’

  Achilles smiled. ‘I have known for some time, Odysseus,’ he said, ‘that if I fought against Troy my name would live for ever as an imperishable and unequalled hero. So my mother has told me. She has said also that, should I choose, I could turn away from this war and my fate would be to live a long, prosperous and happy life.’

  ‘But obscure,’ said Odysseus. ‘Obscure and unsung.’

  ‘Obscure and unsung,’ agreed Achilles. ‘And of the two futures open to me, that is the one I have now chosen. So go back to Agamemnon and tell him that I am no longer angry with him, that I accept his apology, but that I choose not to fight in his cause. If Hector were to come close to the ships of my Myrmidons then, and only then, would I take up arms in their defence. That is all I can promise.’

  The three ambassadors left, knowing that this last offer was of little value to the Greeks. The Myrmidon ships were as distant from the centre of the beachhead as could be.

  When the party returned to the command headquarters, Odysseus relayed the words of Achilles’ refusal. Agamemnon took it all
in with a grim smile.

  ‘Yes. I suspected as much. The rest of us are bound by custom and by codes of honour. Achilles alone amongst men is bound only by what his personal pride demands. Well, well. We are not downhearted.’

  From tears of rage and disappointment to a sudden staunch resolution, thought Odysseus. That’s our King of Men.

  NIGHT PATROLfn35

  Agamemnon and Menelaus found themselves unable to sleep that night. They awoke the other senior commanders.

  ‘What we need,’ said Agamemnon, ‘is for someone to get behind the Trojan lines and see what they are planning for tomorrow. Diomedes, select someone to go with you.’

  Diomedes touched Odysseus on the shoulder and the two men vanished into the night. The Trojans were camped and sleeping all over the ground they had won on the Achaean side of the Scamandrian plain. Crawling forward on their stomachs, Diomedes and Odysseus inched their way silently towards the Trojan lines. They heard footsteps and stopped. A man was approaching.

  ‘Pretend to be dead,’ Odysseus breathed to Diomedes. They froze where they were.

  When the man – who was dressed in wolfskin, with a cap of weasel-fur set upon his head – passed them by, they rose up and seized him.

  ‘Please, please!’ the wolf man whimpered. ‘Don’t hurt me.’

  ‘Sh! Who are you?’

  He stammered out his name. ‘DOLON. I mean you no harm.’

  Odysseus put a knife to his throat. ‘Speak.’

  ‘Only spare my life. I’ll tell you anything.’

  ‘We’ll spare your life, I promise,’ hissed Odysseus. ‘Only speak quickly. And quietly. I have shaky hands and this blade against your throat might just slip and find its way into your windpipe if you aren’t quick, clear and concise.’

  ‘I promise, I promise!’ The words tumbled from Dolon in a hoarse and panicked whisper. ‘It’s all Hector’s fault. He promised me a treasure beyond price if I spied on your camp.’

  Odysseus smiled to himself. So Hector had had the same idea as Agamemnon, had he? Sending spies behind the enemy lines.

  ‘What “treasure beyond price”?’

  ‘Achilles’ horses and golden chariot.’

  ‘Balius and Xanthus?’ said Odysseus. ‘The horses Poseidon gave to his parents? No man alive but Achilles can control them. A little rat like you would be mashed under the wheels of the chariot in seconds. Besides, what makes Hector think he will ever take possession of them?’

  ‘He fooled me,’ Dolon whined. ‘I see that now. But my father, Eumedes the herald, he’s rich. He’ll ransom me. Only please … don’t hurt me.’

  ‘Just tell us what important moves are being made in the Trojan camp tonight?’

  ‘W-well – King RHESUS has arrived with his white horses.’

  ‘White horses? What’s so important about them?’

  ‘It is said that if the horses of King Rhesus of Thrace enter Troy, the city can never fall. He will ride them in tomorrow and victory will be ours.’

  ‘And which way is the Thracian camp?’

  ‘Th-that way.’

  ‘Very good,’ said Odysseus approvingly. ‘While I hold you, my friend Diomedes will cut your throat as quickly and –’

  ‘But you said –’

  ‘That I would spare your life? And so I did. For five minutes, which is all it was worth.’

  One swift, clean cut from Diomedes and with a gargling choke Dolon fell dying to the ground.

  ‘Strangest thing,’ said Odysseus; ‘that knife must be a lot sharper than we thought. Look at that, you almost sliced his head off.’

  The pair of them stole through to the Thracian camp, killed the sleeping King Rhesus and a dozen of the guards, before driving the white horses towards their own lines to the cheers of the Achaeans.

  AGAMEMNON AND HECTOR RAMPANT

  At daybreak Hector rode up and down before the Trojans shouting encouragement.

  ‘We have them at our mercy, my friends!’ he assured them. ‘Nothing can stop us now!’

  Hundreds of Greeks fell before the onslaught Hector led, but this was the moment when Agamemnon revealed his fearsome attributes as a fighting man. He might have had his faults as a king and leader, but this morning of his aristeia, his glory, he revealed to all that he was a warrior of extraordinary courage. In a remorseless push he drove the Trojans back over the River Scamander, killing two of Priam’s sons and many other Trojans besides. Hector commanded the main army to fall back to the Scaean Gate in order to regroup for an immediate counter-attack, but his brother Helenus urged him to wait.

  ‘Zeus has revealed to me that the time to strike back is when Agamemnon suffers a wound that will put him out of action. It will happen. Only be patient.’

  As Helenus spoke, Agamemnon speared Antenor’s son Iphidamus straight through with one deadly lunge. He bent down and stripped the body of its armour, to the cheers of the watching Greeks. As the Achaean king held the armour aloft in triumph, Iphidamus’s brother COÖN charged out of nowhere, screaming for revenge, and stabbed at Agamemnon with his sword, slashing open his forearm. Without so much as a wince or a blink Agamemnon drew his own sword and decapitated Coön with one stroke. Now enraged, Agamemnon kept on fighting and fighting, but the loss of blood from the wound to his arm forced him to turn back with a stagger to his own lines.

  Hector saw this and knew that it was time. With a great cry he led a charge into the Greek ranks, killing six men in one quick blur of brutality. Diomedes and Odysseus led the fightback until Diomedes was shot in the foot by an arrow from Paris, putting him out of action for the rest of the day. Then Odysseus was wounded, and would have died out there on the field of battle, had not Menelaus and Ajax rescued him. Ajax was a man possessed. Bellowing like the Cretan Bull he stormed through the Trojan lines, slaughtering as he went. The soil of the plain of Ilium was sodden with the red blood of Greeks and Trojans.

  Hector forced Ajax and the Greeks back to their stockade and trenches. Five divisions of the Trojan army, led by Hector, Paris, Helenus, Aeneas and Sarpedon, now pushed through for the final coup de grâce: an attack on the Greek shipping behind the defensive palisade.

  The senior Greeks, wounded as most of them now were, met in hurried conclave. Agamemnon, having started the day so well, started to panic again and called for the Greeks to sail away before the ships could be set on fire. Odysseus shouted him down.

  ‘The ships stay – if the fighting men on the plain and in the ditch see the fleets disperse, they will lose heart.’

  The Trojans surged on, pushing and pushing towards the ships, which Ajax the Great was now defending almost single-handedly. The Trojan vanguard reached the vessel from which Protesilaus had leapt nearly ten years earlier. Ajax wielded a massive pike and skewered any Trojan who came near, but on and on came wave after wave of Trojans – such numbers could not be indefinitely repulsed, even by a warrior as mighty as Ajax.

  Things were going very badly for the Greeks indeed. Hector was inspired. He was unstoppable. What could stop the Trojans now?

  THE PSEUDO-ACHILLES

  Patroclus ran back from the fighting by the ships to appeal to Achilles.

  ‘Look at this child, running in tears to its mother and tugging at her apron. Don’t tell me there’s bad news from home?’

  ‘We must do something! They’re on the brink of victory.’

  ‘Oh, is that all? I thought perhaps your father had died back in Phthia. Or mine.’

  ‘For pity’s sake, Achilles. We must intervene; we must, or the Trojans win!’

  ‘If I intervene, then he wins. What that man did to me. The contempt. The deliberate humiliation. That can never be forgiven.’

  ‘But Achilles …’

  ‘I said I would defend our Myrmidon ships against Hector if he came this far, but he has not.’

  ‘Then at least let me fight in your place,’ pleaded Patroclus. ‘I beg you, let me stand in your armour at the head of the Achaean lines. They will think I am you and will ra
lly for sure.’

  Achilles stared. ‘By heaven, you’re serious.’

  ‘Believe it. I’ll fight in any event, in your armour or in mine. It makes no difference: I’m going out there.’

  Achilles smiled at the force of his friend’s earnest insistence.

  At that very moment Hector finally got the better of the exhausted Ajax, snapping the head from his pike. Ajax fell back and Hector shouted for torches to be thrown into the ship, Protesilaus’s ship. The shouts of alarm from the Achaeans, and the whoops of triumph from the Trojans, decided Achilles.

  ‘Very well, you can take my armour, but not my sword, nor my spear. And you shall have fifty Myrmidons from each of my fifty ships. They have been bridling and fretting at being unable to fight. But only in defence of the ships, mind. Don’t even think of trying to hack your way up to Troy. You wouldn’t be safe from Apollo. He’ll guide the arrows of the archers that patrol the city’s high ramparts. Just the beachhead. Promise me?’

  ‘I promise!’ shouted Patroclus excitedly, skipping off to rouse the Myrmidons and equip himself for battle.

  And so it was that Patroclus now appeared in the shining armour and helmet of Achilles, at the head of two and a half thousand fierce, fresh and fanatical Myrmidons. The impact on the battle was instant and extreme.

  ‘Achilles! Achilles!’ cried the Achaeans in triumph.

  ‘Achilles! Achilles!’ howled the Trojans in terror.

  Emboldened by the cheers around him, confident in the armour of his boyhood companion, friend and lover, Patroclus was a man transformed. His whirlwind of killing lit a fire of frenzied passion along the Greek lines. The enemy was cut to pieces in large numbers as the tide of battle turned again and the Trojans tried to escape the beachhead and flee over the River Scamander, back towards the safety of their city. But Patroclus now pinned them and trapped them between the stockade and the sea, and he, the Myrmidons and the whole of the revitalized Achaean forces began to turn the ground red with the blood of slain Trojans.