The War That Killed Achilles (21 page)

Read The War That Killed Achilles Online

Authors: Caroline Alexander

BOOK: The War That Killed Achilles
9.09Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
In the
Iliad,
the Myrmidons are simply the twenty-five hundred men from Phthia under the command of Achilles. That they are distinct from Phthians per se is made clear: during Achilles' absence, one finds “the Phthians” fighting alongside Lokrians and Epeians, trying to hold Hektor from the ships, and somewhat later a “Medon” is named as their leader. The boundaries of the kingdom of Peleus and Achilles are never securely delineated; Phthia is evidently a large area, possibly encompassing several tribes.
18
This telling vagueness suggests that the Myrmidons are defined less by geography—a small region inside Phthia, for instance—than by status and function. They are an elite guard, a Delta Force. The comparison to wolves is also suggestive; well attested in Indo-European culture is the war band—a fraternity of “foot-loose young men,” unmarried and unsettled, who “live on the margins of society and follow their leader wherever he takes them, generally on raiding and looting expeditions” and who “consciously adopted a wolfish identity.”
19
The Myrmidons are banded around Achilles; they are loyal to no other agent or cause, certainly not to Agamemnon, as is clear from Patroklos' address to them before they charge to battle:
“Myrmidons, companions of Peleus' son, Achilles,
be men now, dear friends, remember your furious valour;
we must bring honour to Peleus' son, far the greatest of the Argives
by the ships, we, even the henchmen who fight beside him,
so Atreus' son wide-ruling Agamemnon may recognize
his madness, that he did no honour to the best of the Achaeans.”
As the Myrmidons muster, Achilles retreats to his shelter and from an elaborately decorated chest draws forth a goblet, “nor did any other / man drink the shining wine from it nor did Achilles / pour from it to any other god, but only Zeus father.” This ritual goblet is tucked away beside the clothes his anxious mother had packed for him when he left on campaign, his “tunics / and mantles to hold the wind from a man.” Standing in the compound outside his shelter, Achilles lifts the filled goblet and prays to Zeus:
“As one time before when I prayed to you, you listened
and did me honour, and smote strongly the host of the Achaeans,
so one more time bring to pass the wish that I pray for.
For see, I myself am staying where the ships are assembled,
but I send out my companion and many Myrmidons with him
to fight. Let glory, Zeus of the wide brows, go forth with him.
Make brave the heart inside his breast, so that even Hektor
will find out whether our henchman knows how to fight his battles
by himself, or whether his hands rage invincible only
those times when I myself go into the grind of the war god.
But when he has beaten back from the ships their clamorous onset,
then let him come back to me and the running ships, unwounded,
with all his armour and with the companions who fight close beside
him.”
So he spoke in prayer, and Zeus of the counsels heard him.
The father granted him one prayer, and denied him the other.
That Patroklos should beat back the fighting assault on the vessels
he allowed, but refused to let him come back safe out of the
fighting.
The appearance of Patroklos at the head of the Myrmidons, as “they fell upon the Trojans in a pack,” has the desired effect; immediately the Trojans are shaken and “each man looked about him for a way to escape the sheer death.” As they flee, Patroklos and his men quench the fire around the ships. Book Sixteen is Patroklos'
aristeía.
Not only do he and the Myrmidons wreak havoc on the terrified Trojans, but their very appearance, as Nestor had hoped, inspires the exhausted and embattled Achaeans, and, rallying, they fall upon the Trojans “as wolves make havoc among lambs.” At some point that the epic does not disclose, Patroklos is recognized for himself, despite the borrowed armor; for a brief period, then, Achilles is not missed. Patroklos will kill a total of fifty-four Trojans, a casualty list that compares impressively with, for example, the twenty of Diomedes' dazzling
aristeía.
20
Soon Patroklos catches up with what will be his most illustrious victim, Sarpedon, son of Zeus—and his own destiny presses closer.
“ ‘Ah me,' ” sighs Zeus, watching, “ ‘that it is destined that the dearest of men, Sarpedon, / must go down under the hands of Menoitios' son Patroklos' ”; and (as quoted in the previous chapter) he debates whether to spare his son against destiny, snatching him out of battle and setting him down in his native land—the desperate fantasy of many a fighting man—or allow him to die. “ ‘What sort of thing have you spoken? ' ” is Hera's unfeeling response. “ ‘Think how then some other one of the gods might also / wish to carry his own son out of the strong encounter; / since around the great city of Priam are fighting many / sons of the immortals.' ” Hera's retort and Zeus' submission terminate any hope of rescue for Sarpedon and also, by extension, for Achilles, the most prominent of all the sons of the immortals by Priam's city. Hera continues:
“No, but if he is dear to you, and your heart mourns for him,
then let him be, and let him go down in the strong encounter
underneath the hands of Patroklos, the son of Menoitios;
but after the soul and the years of his life have left him, then send
Death to carry him away, and Sleep, who is painless,
until they come with him to the countryside of broad Lykia
where his brothers and countrymen shall give him due burial
with tomb and gravestone. Such is the privilege of those who have
perished.”
She spoke, nor did the father of gods and men disobey her;
yet he wept tears of blood that fell to the ground, for the sake
of his beloved son, whom now Patroklos was presently
to kill, by generous Troy and far from the land of his fathers.
As the two advance, Patroklos throws his spear and hits Sarpedon's
therápōn;
in his turn, Sarpedon casts at Patroklos and misses, “but the spear fixed in the right shoulder of Pedasos / the horse, who screamed as he blew his life away, and went down”—Pedasos, who, mortal as he was, ran beside the immortal horses. Every action now presages Patroklos' own fate.
When at length Sarpedon is hit, he falls “as when an oak goes down or a white poplar, / or like a towering pine tree which in the mountains the carpenters / have hewn down with their whetted axes to make a ship-timber,” for ships like those that sailed to Troy. Dying, “raging,” Sarpedon “called aloud to his beloved companion” begging him to ensure that his body is not dishonored, nor his armor stripped from him; his is the first of what will be three dying speeches in the epic. His companion Glaukos hears him and, praying to Apollo for strength, rallies his companions, and a battle erupts over the body, and armor, of Sarpedon.
So they swarmed over the dead man, nor did Zeus ever
turn the glaring of his eyes from the strong encounter,
but kept gazing forever upon them, in spirit reflective,
and pondered hard over many ways for the death of Patroklos;
whether this was now the time, in this strong encounter,
when there over godlike Sarpedon glorious Hektor
should kill him with the bronze, and strip the armour away from
his shoulders,
or whether to increase the steep work of fighting for more men.
Zeus decides upon two strategies: he will allow Patroklos one more triumphant assault, and, as Hera had suggested, he instructs Apollo to aid Sleep and Death in bearing Sarpedon's body to his home.
21
The body is whisked away, and the mortal remains of Sarpedon are gone. He and his companion and kinsman Glaukos are the most prominent of the Trojans' many allies, and Sarpedon's death is the most significant casualty to befall the Trojan side. Together the two warriors have given the epic some of its most reflective moments, such as Glaukos' speech on the generations of men in Book Six. In Book Twelve, toward the beginning of this longest day, it had been Sarpedon who uttered to Glaukos the simple statement that later ages would adopt as defining the Homeric warrior's rationale for war:
“Man, supposing you and I, escaping this battle,
would be able to live on forever, ageless, immortal,
so neither would I myself go on fighting in the foremost
nor would I urge you into the fighting where men win glory.
But now, seeing that the spirits of death stand close about us
in their thousands, no man can turn aside nor escape them,
let us go on and win glory for ourselves, or yield it to others.”
22
In short, the death of Sarpedon is an important landmark in the epic. A fully realized character, he will be missed. The grieving, loyal companion he leaves behind, the extraordinary attention he receives from Zeus, and the fight over his fallen body and armor are all motifs that will shortly be repeated as the
Iliad
moves relentlessly toward its tragic climax.
23
Immediately following the gentle disposition of Sarpedon's body, the action returns abruptly to Patroklos. His onslaught has been an unmitigated success; the Trojans have been driven back, and the ships are saved. By the terms of Achilles' orders, he should now return to the Achaean camp; but, “besotted” with blind fury, he rages on: “Then who was it you slaughtered first, who was the last one, / Patroklos, as the gods called you to your death?”
At the very threshold of Troy, Patroklos attempts to mount the angled walls; three times he tries, and three times he is batted down by the city's menacing guardian, Apollo, who strides the ramparts and cries out to him “in the voice of danger: / ‘Give way, illustrious Patroklos: it is not destined / that the city of the proud Trojans shall fall before your spear / not even at the hand of Achilles, who is far better than you are.' ”
Patroklos is allowed one last victory, over Hektor's charioteer and half brother, but as the sun sinks, his destiny claims him in the suddenly huge and terrifying apparition of Apollo:
... there, Patroklos, the end of your life was shown forth,
since Phoibos came against you there in the strong encounter
dangerously, nor did Patroklos see him as he moved through
the battle, and shrouded in a deep mist came in against him
and stood behind him, and struck his back and his broad shoulders
with a flat stroke of the hand so that his eyes spun. Phoibos
Apollo now struck away from his head the helmet
four-horned and hollow-eyed, and under the feet of the horses
it rolled clattering, and the plumes above it were defiled
by blood and dust. Before this time it had not been permitted
to defile in the dust this great helmet crested in horse-hair;
rather it guarded the head and the gracious brow of a godlike
man, Achilles; but now Zeus gave it over to Hektor
to wear on his head, Hektor whose own death was close to him.
And in his hands was splintered all the huge, great, heavy,
iron-shod, far-shadowing spear, and away from his shoulders
dropped to the ground the shield with its shield sling and its tassels.
The lord Apollo, son of Zeus, broke the corselet upon him.
Disaster caught his wits, and his shining body went nerveless.
He stood stupidly, and from close behind his back a Dardanian
man hit him between the shoulders with a sharp javelin:
Euphorbos, son of Panthoös, who surpassed all men of his own age
with the throwing spear, and in horsemanship and the speed of his
feet. He
had already brought down twenty men from their horses
since first coming, with his chariot and his learning in warfare.
He first hit you with a thrown spear, o rider Patroklos,
nor broke you, but ran away again, snatching out the ash spear
from your body, and lost himself in the crowd, not enduring
to face Patroklos, naked as he was, in close combat.
Now Patroklos, broken by the spear and the god's blow, tried
to shun death and shrink back into the swarm of his own
companions.
But Hektor, when he saw high-hearted Patroklos trying
to get away, saw how he was wounded with the sharp javelin,
came close against him across the ranks, and with the spear
stabbed him
in the depth of the belly and drove the bronze clean through.
He fell,
thunderously, to the horror of all the Achaean people.
Of the many deaths the
Iliad
records, no other resembles that of Patroklos. Nowhere is the pitiful vulnerability of a mortal so exploited as it is by the savage malevolence of Apollo's blow and the hounding of the wounded man as he tries to shun death among his companions. The horror of this extraordinary scene is reinforced by the resonance of two disparate, submerged traditions. One of these concerns that magic armor, worn by the folktale predecessors of Achilles, whose fairy-tale function had undoubtedly been to render its wearer invulnerable. As has been said, Homer severely repressed any hint that the armor given by the gods to Peleus had supernatural properties, yet he allows one aspect of this ancient motif to surface here, turning it to electrifying effect—Patroklos must be stripped of the armor before he can be killed. Thus Apollo's savage blow strikes off his helmet and breaks the corselet upon him.
24
Patroklos is killed—slaughtered—naked.
“To select a victim, to adorn it, and to drive it towards the enemies to be killed by them” in time of crisis—such is the ancient rite of substitution.
25
Patroklos has been made a scapegoat, a ritual substitute for his king, in whose distinctive armor—and in whose stead—he is driven to his death; Patroklos has become the literal alter ego of Achilles, his second self.
26
The stunning blow that Apollo deals him, the stab between the shoulder blades and the final death stroke—these are more the actions of ritual slaughter, than of battle.
Broken by the most malevolent of gods, and subsequently by two opportunistic mortals, Patroklos, dying, must endure Hektor's hollow vaunt over him. Exalting, Hektor imagines—very wrongly, as we know—how Achilles must have instructed Patroklos to return with his bloodied tunic: “ ‘In some such / manner he spoke to you, and persuaded the fool's heart in you.' ” Poor Hektor can have no idea how badly he reads the unfolding events.

Other books

Davin's Quest by D'Arc, Bianca
Hot Springs by Stephen Hunter
Darkest Temptation by Kohler, Sharie
Thief of Souls by Neal Shusterman
On Fire by Sylvia Day
Making Ideas Happen by Scott Belsky
Plague by C.C. Humphreys
Seeing Red by Graham Poll