Authors: Alessandro Baricco
The Achaeans stood and listened to me. Many of them were enraged with Agamemnon because of what had happened with Achilles. So they listened to me. Agamemnon said nothing. But Odysseus, well, he came over to me. “You speak eloquently,” he said to me. “But you speak like an idiot. You are the lowest of the low, you know, Thersites? The lowest of all the soldiers who came to the walls of Troy. You enjoy insulting Agamemnon, the king of kings, only because you Achaean fighters have brought him so many prizes. But I tell you, and I swear to you, that if I catch you saying stupid things like this again, I will take hold of you and strip off your clothes—cloak, tunic, everything—and send you naked back to the ships, wailing from a beating you won’t forget.” And so speaking, he began to hit me on the shoulders and the back with the scepter. I cringed under the blows. The blood dripped thick on my cloak, and I howled in pain and humiliation. Frightened, I fell to the ground. I lay there, dazed, drying my tears, while all around they laughed at me.
Then Odysseus raised the scepter, turned toward Agamemnon, and in a loud voice, so that all could hear him, he said, “Son of Atreus, the Achaeans today wish to make you the most wretched among mortals. They promised to destroy Ilium the fair and now instead they are weeping like boys, like miserable widows, and they ask to return home. Certainly I can’t blame them: we’ve been here for nine years, when a mere month’s absence from our wives would make us long to return. And yet what dishonor it would be to abandon the battlefield when we have spent so much time and gained nothing.
Friends, we must be patient still. Do you remember the day we assembled in Aulis, ready to depart, on our way to destroy Priam and the Trojans? Do you remember what happened? We were offering sacrifices to the gods near a spring, under a lovely, light-dappled plane tree. And suddenly a serpent with a blood-red back, a horrible monster that Zeus himself had created, emerged from under the altars and slithered up the tree. There was a nest of swallows above, and he went up and devoured all of them: eight little ones and the mother. And immediately afterward he was turned to stone. We saw it all and were struck dumb. But Calchas—do you remember what Calchas said? ‘It’s a sign,’ he said. ‘Zeus has sent us a sign. It is an omen of infinite glory. Just as the serpent devoured eight little ones and the mother, so we will have to fight in Ilium for nine years. But in the tenth year we will take Troy and its broad streets.’ This he said to us. And today you see that prophecy fulfilled before your eyes. Listen to me, Achaeans with your weapons of war. Do not run away. Stay here. And we will capture the great city of Priam.”
Thus he spoke. The Achaeans gave a loud shout, and the ships resounded with the tremendous clamor of their enthusiasm. Just then, the old man Nestor spoke again, saying, “Agamemnon, return and lead us into battle with your old indomitable will. No one wants to hurry home before he’s slept with the wife of a Trojan, to avenge what we’ve suffered for the abduction of Helen. And I tell you that if anyone, in his foolishness, decides to go, then he won’t get as far as his black ship before he meets his destined death.”
In silence they listened to him. Old men … Agamemnon almost bowed. “Yet again, old man, you’ve spoken wisely.” Then he looked out over all of us and said, “Go and prepare, because today we will attack. Eat, sharpen your spears, get
your shields ready, feed the swift horses well, check your chariots: we’ll fight all day, and only night will separate the fury of men. Your chests will drip with sweat under the heavy shields, and your hands will grow weary holding the spears. But anyone who dares to flee the battle and take shelter near the ships is a dead man.”
Then they all gave a huge cry and scattered among the ships. Each went to prepare himself for battle. Some ate, some sharpened their weapons, some prayed, some made sacrifices to the gods, hoping to escape death. Soon the kings of divine descent assembled the men and drew them up in their battle lines, rushing among them and urging them on. And suddenly for us all it became sweeter to fight than to return to our homeland. We marched in our bronze armor, and we were like a fire that you watch from a distance as it devours a forest: you see the bright shining flames flaring into the sky. We descended to the plain of Scamander like a huge flock of birds that descends from the sky and lands on the meadow with a great din, wings beating hard. The earth rumbled under the feet of men and the hooves of horses. We stopped near the river, before Troy. We were thousands, as many as the flowers in spring, and we wished for one thing only: the blood of battle.
Hector and his allies, the foreign princes, assembled their men and came out of the city, on foot or with horses. We heard an immense commotion. We saw them ascending the hill of Bateia, a hill that rose, isolated, in the middle of the plain. There they ranged themselves, under the command of their chiefs. They began to move toward us, shouting like birds in the sky that with their screeching cries proclaim a mortal struggle. And we marched toward them, but in silence, with the anger hidden in our hearts. The footsteps of our armies
raised a dust that, like a fog, like a night, consumed everything.
Finally we came face-to-face. We stopped. And then, suddenly, from the ranks of the Trojans Paris stepped forth, like a god, a leopard skin flung over his shoulders. He was equipped with bow and sword. In one hand he held two bronze-tipped spears, and he shook them at us, challenging the Achaean chiefs. When Menelaus saw him, he rejoiced like a hungry lion who hurls himself on the body of a deer and devours it. He thought that the moment had come to take revenge on the man who had stolen his wife. And he leaped out of his chariot, grasping his weapons. Paris saw him and his heart trembled. He turned away, among his men, to avoid death. Like a man who sees a snake and immediately jumps back, shaking, and flees, his face pale, so we saw him run, until Hector stopped him, shouting, “Damn you, Paris, you seducer, liar. Don’t you see that the Achaeans are mocking you? They thought you were a hero because they were impressed by your beauty. But now they know you have no courage and no strength of mind—you who, a guest of Menelaus, in a foreign land, carried off his wife and came home with that beautiful woman at your side. But they are a warrior people, Paris, and you have become the ruin of your father, of your city, of all your countrymen. And now you won’t confront Menelaus? Too bad, you might find out what sort of man he is whose wife you stole. And you would roll in the dust, and discover how useless your lyre is, and your handsome face, and your hair. Ah, we are truly cowards, we Trojans: otherwise you would be buried under a pile of stones by now, to pay for all the evil you have done.”
Then Paris answered, “You’re right, Hector. But what a heart you have, inflexible, like an axe that plunges straight
into the wood. You reproach me for my beauty … but we can’t despise the gifts of the gods, the talents they’ve given us: can we refuse them? Do we have any choice in them? Listen to me: if you want me to fight a duel, have all the Trojans and all the Achaeans sit down, and let Menelaus and me, in front of the two armies, fight for Helen. The one who wins will take the woman and all her wealth. And as for you, Trojans and Achaeans, you will make a pact of peace, and the Trojans will live again in the fertile land of Troy, and the Achaeans will return to Argos, to their treasures and their beautiful women.”
Hector’s joy was great when he heard those words. He walked, alone, between the two armies and, raising his spear to the sky, made a sign to the Trojans to stop. And they obeyed. We immediately began to take aim at him with arrows and stones, and then Agamemnon cried, “Stop! Achaeans, do not strike him, Hector wants to speak!” and then we, too, stopped. There was a great silence. And in that silence Hector spoke to the two armies: “Listen to me! Hear what Paris says, the man who caused this war. He wants you to lay down your arms, and asks to fight alone against Menelaus, and let a duel decide who will have Helen and her wealth.”
The armies remained silent. Then the powerful voice of Menelaus was heard. “Listen to me as well: I am the offended one and more than anyone else have a wrong to avenge. Stop fighting, because by now you have all suffered too much from this war that Paris started. I will fight him, and destiny will decide which of us two must die. You find a way to make peace as quickly as possible. Let the Achaeans go and offer a lamb to Zeus. And you, Trojans, get a white lamb and a black one, for the Earth and the Sun. And summon the great king Priam, so that he may sanction the peace: his sons are proud and not to be trusted, but he is an old man, and old men know
how to look at the past and the future together, and understand what’s best for all. Have him come and seal the peace: and may no one dare to break a pact sanctioned in the name of Zeus.”
I heard his words and then I saw the joy of those two armies, suddenly united by the hope of putting an end to the agonies of war. I saw the warriors descend from their chariots and take off their arms and lay them on the ground, covering the plain with bronze.
I had never seen peace so close. Then I turned and looked for Nestor, the old sage Nestor. I wanted to look him in the eyes, and in his eyes see war die, and the arrogance of those who wish for it, and the folly of those who fight it.
L
ike a slave, I was silent in my rooms that day, forced to weave on a blood-colored cloth the exploits of the Trojans and the Achaeans in that grievous war fought for me. Suddenly Laodice, the most beautiful of Priam’s daughters, entered and called to me, “Hurry, Helen, come and look down, Trojans and Achaeans … they were all on the plain, eager for blood and about to fight, and now they are silent, facing each other, with their shields resting on the ground and their spears planted in the earth … It’s said that the war has stopped, and that Paris and Menelaus are going to fight for you: you’ll be the winner’s prize.”
Suddenly, listening to her, I wanted to cry, because I felt a powerful yearning for the man I had married, and for my family, and my country. I wrapped myself in a shining white veil and ran to the wall, my eyes still filled with tears. When I reached the tower above the Scaean gates I saw the old men of Troy, who had gathered there to watch what was happening
on the plain. They were too old to fight, but they liked to talk—and in that they were masters. Like cicadas in a tree, they never stopped to listen to their own voices. I heard them murmuring, when they saw me, “It’s not surprising that Trojans and Achaeans should kill one another for that woman— doesn’t she seem a goddess? But I wish the ships would take her away, her and her beauty, or our ruin and that of our children will never end.” Thus they spoke, but without daring to look at me. The only one who looked was Priam. “Come, daughter,” he said to me, raising his voice. “Come and sit beside me. You aren’t to blame in all this. It’s the gods who have brought this misfortune on me. Come, from here you can see your husband, and your relatives, your friends … Tell me, who is that imposing man, that noble Achaean warrior? Others are taller but I have never seen one so handsome, so stately: he has the look of a king.”
Then I went to him and answered, “I honor and fear you, Priam, father of my new husband. Oh, if only I had had the courage to die rather than follow your son here, abandoning my marriage bed, and my daughter, still a child, and my beloved companions … but it was not so, and now I am worn out with weeping. But you want to know who that man is. He is the son of Atreus, Agamemnon, the most powerful king and a brave fighter: at one time, if that time ever existed, he was the brother-in-law of this worthless woman who is now talking to you.”
Priam went on looking down at the fighters. “And that man,” he asked, “who is he? Shorter than Agamemnon but his chest and shoulders are broader. Do you see him? He is reviewing the ranks, and is like a thick-fleeced ram wandering among flocks of white sheep.”
“That is Odysseus,” I answered, “the son of Laertes, who
grew up on the rocky island of Ithaca and is famous for his cunning and his intelligence.”
“It’s true,” said Priam. “I’ve met him. He came here once as an envoy, with Menelaus, to discuss your fate. I welcomed them in my house. Menelaus, I recall, spoke quickly, a few clear words. He spoke well, but he was young … Odysseus, on the other hand … when it was his turn to speak, he didn’t move. He looked down as if not knowing what to say: he seemed overcome by anger or else a complete fool. But when, finally, he spoke, a voice emerged so deep … the words were like winter snow … and no man would have dared challenge him, my daughter, and it didn’t matter if he was shorter than Menelaus or Agamemnon …”
Then among the fighters Priam discerned Ajax, and asked me, “And that man, who is bigger and stronger than all the other Achaeans, who is he?” And I answered, and spoke to him of Ajax, and then of Idomeneus, and then of the other Achaean chiefs. I could recognize them all now, the bright-eyed Achaeans. One by one I could have talked of them to that old man, who wanted to know who his enemies were. But at that point Idaeus, the herald, arrived. He approached Priam and said, “Rise, son of Laomedon. The leaders of the Teucri-ans, breakers of horses, and of the bronze-armored Achaeans invite you to descend to the plain, to approve a new agreement between the two armies. Paris and Menelaus with their long spears will fight for Helen. All the others will seal a pact of friendship and peace.”
Priam listened, and he shuddered. But then he ordered horses to be brought, and when everything was ready he got into his swift chariot, along with Antenor, and they went out of the Scaean gates at a gallop. They crossed the plain, and when they reached the armies they stopped right in the middle,
between Trojans and Achaeans. I saw Agamemnon stand, and with him Odysseus. The heralds brought animals for the sacrifices that would seal the pacts. They mixed the wine in the great bowl, and poured water over the hands of the kings.
Then Agamemnon raised his hands to heaven and prayed to Zeus in the name of all. “Father Zeus, supreme and glorious, and you, Sun, who see all and hear all; Rivers, Earth, and you who under the earth punish traitors, be our witnesses and preserve our pacts: if Paris kills Menelaus, he will take Helen and all her possessions, and we will go away forever on our ships that plow the sea; and if Menelaus kills Paris, the Trojans will give us Helen and all her possessions, and will pay the Argives a price so high that it will be remembered for generations and generations. And if Priam and his sons are unwilling to pay, I will fight for that recompense, and remain here, until this war ends.”