‘Do not presume!’ my brother growled.
Odysseus blinked. Oh, he was a reprobate! Once launched, no one could restrain him. ‘I myself,’ he said, thoroughly enjoying himself, ‘will undertake to set a few omens beneath our worthy priest Kalchas’s nose, and I myself will manufacture the plague. I promise you, the sickness will fool Podalieros and Machaon! Terror will stalk our camp within a day of the outbreak. When you’re informed of its seriousness, Agamemnon, you’ll go at once to Kalchas and ask him what has vexed which God. He’ll like that. But he’ll like your request for a public augury even more. In front of the army’s senior ranks he’ll demand that you send Chryse to Troy. Your position, sire, will be quite untenable. You’ll have to acquiesce. However, I’m sure no one will blame you if you take offence when Achilles laughs at you. During a public augury? Intolerable!’
By this we were beyond speech, though I doubt Odysseus would have paused had Zeus thrown a thunderbolt at his feet.
‘Naturally you’ll be furious, Agamemnon. You’ll turn on Achilles and demand that he give you Brise. Then you’ll appeal to the assembled officers – your prize has been removed from you, therefore Achilles must yield his prize to you. Achilles will refuse, but his position will be just as untenable as yours was when Kalchas asked for Chryse. He’ll have to give you Brise, and he’ll do so then and there. But, having handed her over, he’ll remind you that neither he nor his father swore the Oath of the Quartered Horse. In front of the assembly he’ll announce that he is withdrawing himself and the Myrmidons from the war.’ Odysseus roared with laughter, shook his fists at the ceiling. ‘I have a special nook reserved for a certain furtive Trojan I know. Within the day all Troy will be aware of the quarrel.’
We sat like men struck to stone by Medusa’s glare. What storms of emotion he had unleashed in the others I could only guess at; my own storms were hideous enough. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Achilles move, and swung my attention to him, agog to know his reaction. Odysseus could unearth more secret skeletons out of secret graves and rattle them than any other man I’ve ever known. But by the Mother, he was brilliant!
Achilles wasn’t angered, which amazed me. His eyes held nothing but admiration.
‘What kind of man are you, Odysseus, to dream up such strife? It’s a wicked scheme – staggering! However, you must admit that it’s hardly flattering to Agamemnon and me. It’s our two carcasses must bear the ridicule and contempt if we do as you want. And I tell you now that if I die for it, I will not give Brise up.’
Nestor coughed softly. ‘You won’t be giving anything up, Achilles. Both young women will be handed into my custody, and with me they’ll remain until things work out as Odysseus plans. I’ll lodge them secretly, no one will know whereabouts they are. Including Kalchas.’
Achilles was still unsure. ‘A fair offer, Nestor, and one I trust. But surely you can see why I mislike the scheme. What if we do succeed in duping Priam? Without the Myrmidons to hold the van intact we’ll suffer losses we just can’t afford. I’m not exaggerating. It’s our function in battle to hold the van intact. I can’t like a plan which endangers so many lives.’ His eyes brooded. ‘And what of Hektor? I’ve vowed to kill him, but what if he should die while I’m out of the battle? And how long am I expected to be out of the battle?’
Odysseus answered. ‘Yes, we’ll lose men we wouldn’t if the Myrmidons were there. But Greeks aren’t inferior warriors. I’ve no doubt we’ll do well enough. For the moment I won’t answer your big question – how long will you be out of the battle? I’d rather speak about getting Priam outside his walls first. I ask you: what if this war drags on for years more? What if our men grow old without seeing their homes again? Or what if Priam comes out when Penthesileia and Memnon arrive? Myrmidons or no, we’ll be hacked to pieces.’ He smiled. ‘As for Hektor, he’ll live to face you, Achilles. I know it in my bones.’
Nestor spoke. ‘Once the Trojans come out from behind their walls they’re committed,’ he said. ‘They can’t withdraw for good. If they suffer heavy casualties, Priam will receive information that our casualties are even heavier. Once we lure them out, the dam will break. They won’t rest until they’ve driven us from Troy, or until the last one of them is dead.’
Achilles stretched his arms wide, the great muscles moving under his skin. ‘I doubt if I have the strength of character to refrain from fighting while everyone else does, Odysseus. For ten whole years I’ve waited to be in at the kill. And there are other considerations too. What will the army say of a man who can desert them in their time of need because of a woman – and what will my own Myrmidons think of me?’
‘No one will speak of you kindly, Achilles, so much is sure,’ said Odysseus soberly. ‘To do what I ask will take a very special kind of courage, my friend. More courage than it would take to storm the Western Curtain tomorrow. Don’t mistake me, any of you! Achilles hasn’t coloured the thing a scrap darker than it is in reality. Many will revile you, Achilles. Many will revile you, Agamemnon. Some will curse. Some will spit.’
Smiling wryly, Achilles looked at me not unsympathetically. Odysseus had managed to draw us closer together than I had deemed possible after the events at Aulis. My daughter! My poor little daughter! I sat still and cold, tasting the unpalatable role I must fill. If Achilles would look an intemperate fool, what sort of fool would I look? Was fool the right word? Idiot, more like.
Then Achilles slapped his thigh sharply. ‘It’s a heavy thing you charge us with, Odysseus, but if Agamemnon can humble himself to take his share of the load, how can I refuse?’
‘What is your decision, sire?’ asked Idomeneus, his tone announcing that he would never consent to it.
I shook my head, propped my chin on my hand and thought, while the rest of them watched me. Achilles broke in on my reverie; speaking to Odysseus again.
‘Answer my big question, Odysseus. How long?’
‘It will take two or three days to draw the Trojans out.’
‘Which is no answer. How long must I remain out of things?’
‘First let us wait for the High King’s decision. Sire, what is it to be?’
I let my hand drop. ‘I’ll do it on one condition. That each of you in this room takes a solemn oath to see it through to the absolute end, no matter what the end might be. Odysseus is the only one who can guide us through this maze – such scheming was never meant for the High Kings of Mykenai. It is the lot of the Kings of the Out Islands. Do you all agree to swear?’
They agreed.
With no priest present, we swore on the heads of our male children, on their ability to procreate and on the extinguishing of our lines. Heavier than the quartered horse.
‘So, Odysseus,’ said Achilles, ‘finish it.’
‘Leave Kalchas to me. I’ll ensure he does what’s expected and never knows it was expected. He’ll believe in himself as completely as the poor shepherd lad plucked out of the crowd to play Dionysos at the Maenad revels. Achilles, once you’ve handed Brise over and spoken your piece, you’ll take your Myrmidon officers and return to your compound immediately. Handy that you insisted on building a stockade within our camp! Your isolation will be easily noted. You’ll forbid the Myrmidons to leave the stockade, nor can you leave it yourself. Henceforth you’ll be visited, but never visit. Everyone will assume that those who visit you go to plead with you. At all times and to every member of your inner circle of friends you must seem an extremely angry man – a man who is bitterly hurt and utterly disillusioned – a man who thinks himself grossly wronged – a man who would rather die than patch up his relations with Agamemnon. Even Patrokles must see you like this. Is that understood?’
Achilles nodded gravely; now that the matter was decided and the oath sworn, he seemed resigned. ‘Are you going to answer me yet?’ he asked then. ‘How long?’
‘Not until the very last moment,’ said Odysseus. ‘Hektor must be absolutely convinced that he can’t lose, and his father must feel the same way. Play out the
rope, Achilles, play it out until they have to choke on it! The Myrmidons will return to action before you do yourself.’ He drew a breath. ‘No one can predict what will happen in battle, even I, but some things are fairly certain. For instance, that without you and the Myrmidons, we’ll be driven inside our own camp. That Hektor will break through our defence wall and get in among our ships. I can help events a little by using some of my spies among our troops. They can, for instance, start a panic leading to retreat. It’s up to you to decide exactly when the time is right to intervene, but don’t return to the battle yourself. Let Patrokles lead the Myrmidons out. That way, it will seem that you’re obdurate. They know the oracles, Achilles. They know that we can’t beat them if you don’t fight with us. So play out the rope! Don’t return to the field yourself until the very last moment.’
And after that there seemed no more to say. Idomeneus got up, rolling his eyes at me wildly; no one understood quite as well as he how hard it would be for Mykenai to let himself be so reviled. Nestor bestowed his bland smile on us – he knew it all long before this morning’s work, of course. So did Diomedes, grinning broadly at the prospect of other men’s acting the fool.
Only Menelaos spoke. ‘May I offer a little advice?’
‘Certainly!’ said Odysseus heartily. ‘Advise, do!’
‘Kalchas. Let him in on the secret. If he knows, then you halve your difficulties.’
Odysseus pounded his fist into the palm of his other hand. ‘No, no, no! The man is a Trojan! Put your trust in no man born to an enemy woman in an enemy country when you are fighting on his own soil and likely to win.’
‘You’re right, Odysseus,’ said Achilles.
I made no comment, but I wondered. For years I had championed Kalchas, but something inside me had turned this morning, quite what I didn’t know. He had been at the root of things which had done much harm. It had been he who had forced me to sacrifice my own daughter and thereby create the breach with Achilles. Well, if he was in truth not to be trusted, it would be evident on the day when I quarrelled with Achilles. For all its careful blankness his face would betray his inner pleasure – if indeed he felt any. After so many years, I knew him.
‘Agamemnon,’ came the plaintive voice of Menelaos from the door, ‘we’re boarded in! Would you kindly give the order to let us out?’
22
NARRATED BY
Achilles
Dreading having to face those I loved and keep my counsel from them, I returned to the Myrmidon stockade with a dragging step. Patrokles and Phoinix were sitting on either side of a table in the sun, playing knuckle bones amid much laughter.
‘What happened? Anything important?’ asked Patrokles, and got up to throw his arm about my shoulders. Something he was more prone to do since Brise had entered my life, and that was a pity. It couldn’t help his cause to lay public claim to me, and it irritated me into the bargain. As if he was trying to put a burden of guilt on me – I am your first cousin as well as your lover, and you can’t just drop me because of a new plaything.
I shrugged him off. ‘Nothing happened. Agamemnon wanted to know if we were having difficulty in curbing our men.’
Phoinix looked surprised. ‘Surely he could have seen that for himself if he’d bothered to tour the camp?’
‘You know our imperial overlord. He hasn’t called a council in a moon, and he hates to think his grip on us is slackening.’
‘But why only you, Achilles? I pour the wine and see to everyone’s comfort at a council,’ said Patrokles, looking wounded.
‘It was a very small group.’
‘Was Kalchas there?’ asked Phoinix.
‘Kalchas is out of favour at the moment.’
‘Over the girl Chryse? He’d have done better to have kept his mouth shut on that subject,’ said Patrokles.
‘Perhaps he thinks that if he pushes hard enough, he’ll get his own way in the end,’ I said casually.
Patrokles blinked. ‘Do you honestly think so? I don’t.’
‘Can neither of you find anything more significant to do than play at knuckle bones?’ I asked, to change the subject.
‘What more pleasurable thing could one do on a beautiful day which won’t see the Trojans come out?’ asked Phoinix. He looked at me shrewdly. ‘You’ve been gone all morning. A long time for a trivial meeting.’
‘Odysseus was in fine form.’
‘Come and sit down,’ said Patrokles, stroking my arm.
‘Not now. Is Brise inside?’
I had never seen Patrokles in a rage, but suddenly it was flaring in his eyes; his mouth shook, he bit it. ‘Where else would she be?’ he snapped, turned his back and sat down at the table. ‘Let’s play,’ he said to Phoinix, who rolled his eyes.
I called her name as I stepped inside, and she came flying through an inner door to land in my arms.
‘Did you miss me?’ I asked fatuously.
‘It seemed like days!’
‘Half a year, more like.’ I sighed, thinking of what had gone on in that boarded-up council chamber.
‘No doubt you’ve already drunk more than your share of wine, but would you like more?’
I looked down at her, surprised. ‘Come to think of it, we drank no wine.’
Laughter brimmed in her vivid blue eyes. ‘Absorbing.’
‘Boring, I’d say.’
‘Poor thing! Did Agamemnon feed you?’
‘No. Be a good child and find me something to eat.’
She busied herself about the task of waiting on me, chattering like a hedge bird while I sat and watched her, thinking how lovely her smile, how graceful her walk, how swanlike the turn of her neck. War carries a perpetual threat of death, but she seemed oblivious to any impending doom; I never spoke to her of battle.
‘Did you see Patrokles outside in the sun?’
‘Yes.’
‘But you preferred me to him,’ she said with satisfaction, proving that the rivalry was not merely one sided. She handed me hot bread and a dish of olive oil to dip it in. ‘Here, fresh from the oven.’
‘Did you bake it?’ I asked.
‘You know perfectly well I cannot bake, Achilles.’
‘True. You have no womanly skills.’
‘Tell me that tonight when the curtain is drawn across our doorway and I’m in your bed,’ she said, unruffled.
‘All right, I concede you one womanly skill.’
The moment I said it, she plumped herself down in my lap, took my free hand and slipped it inside the loose gown she wore, covering her left breast.
‘I love you so much, Achilles.’
‘And I you.’ I put my hand in her hair and lifted her face so she had to look at me. ‘Brise, will you make me a promise?’
Her wide eyes betrayed no anxiety. ‘Anything you ask.’
‘What if I should dismiss you, command that you go to some other man?’
Her mouth trembled. ‘If you so commanded, I would go.’
‘What would you think of me?’
‘No less than I think of you now. You would have sufficient reason. Or else it would mean that you had tired of me.’
‘I’ll never tire of you. Never in all the time left to me. Some things can’t change.’
Her colour returned in a flood. ‘So I believe too.’ She laughed breathlessly. ‘Ask me to do something easy, like dying for you.’
‘Before bed time?’
‘Well, tomorrow, then.’
‘I still require a promise of you, Brise.’
‘What?’
I twisted a lock of her amazing hair between my fingers. ‘That if there should come a time when I seem a fool, or stupid, or coldhearted, you’ll continue to believe in me.’
‘I’ll always believe in you.’ She pressed my hand a little harder against her breast. ‘I’m not stupid either, Achilles. Something troubles you.’
‘If it does, I can’t tell you.’
Whereupon she left the subject alone, and never tried to bring it up
again.
It was beyond any of us how Odysseus went about the tasks he had set himself; we knew his hand was there, yet we could see no sign of it. Somehow the whole army was buzzing with the news that the bad blood between me and Agamemnon was coming to a head, that Kalchas was being aggravatingly persistent about the affair of Chryse, and that Agamemnon’s temper was fraying.
Three days after the council meeting these interesting topics of conversation were forgotten. Disaster struck. At first the officers tried to hush it up, but soon the men who fell ill were too many to hide. The dread word flew from tongue to tongue: plague, plague, plague. Within the space of one day four thousand men succumbed, then four thousand more the next day – there seemed no end to them. I went to see some of my own men who were among the stricken, and the sight of them had me praying to Leto and Artemis that Odysseus knew what he was doing. They were feverish, delirious, covered in a weeping rash, whimpering under the onslaught of headache. I talked to Machaon and Podalieros, who both assured me it was definitely a form of plague.
Not many moments later I encountered Odysseus himself. He was grinning from ear to ear.
‘You have to admit, Achilles, that I’ve created something of a landmark when I can fool the sons of Asklepios!’
‘I hope you haven’t overstepped yourself,’ I said dourly.
‘Rest you, there’ll be no permanent casualties. They’ll all rise from their sickbeds well men.’
I shook my head, exasperated at his self-congratulatory glee. ‘About the moment Agamemnon obeys Kalchas and yields up Chryse, I suppose. A magnificent, miraculous recovery at the hands of the God. Only this time it will be the god out of the machine.’
‘Don’t say it too loudly,’ he said, drifting away to minister to the sick with his own hands, and thereby earn an undeserved reputation for bravery.
When Agamemnon went to Kalchas and asked for a public augury, the army sighed with relief. There was no doubt in any mind that the priest would insist upon the return of Chryse; hearts began to lighten at the prospect of an end to the epidemic.