The Song of Troy (29 page)

Odysseus chuckled. ‘Are the rest of you as cast down as Achilles? I’m sorry for you, then. Yet I can’t deny that the son of Peleus speaks the truth. Added to which, if we’re here through the winter, supplies are going to be hard to get. At the moment we can take what we need from Bithynia, but the winters hereabouts, they say, are cold and snowy.’

Achilles leaped to his feet, snarling at Agamemnon. ‘This is what I told you at Aulis, long before we sailed! You paid no attention to the problems of feeding a huge army! Choice? Do we have a choice as to whether we stay here or go home? I don’t think so. Our only alternative is to take advantage of the early winter winds and sail to Greece, never to return. You are a fool, King Agamemnon! A conceited fool!’

Agamemnon sat very still, but held onto his temper.

‘Achilles is right,’ growled Idomeneus. ‘It was very badly planned.’ He drew in a breath, glaring at his co-commander. ‘I ask you, Odysseus: can we or can’t we storm the Trojan walls?’

‘There’s no way to storm them, Idomeneus.’

Feeling was rising, sparked by Achilles and fuelled by the fact that Agamemnon chose to say nothing. They were all ready to fly at him, and he knew it. He sat biting his lips, his body tense with the effort of restraining his own anger.

‘Why couldn’t you have admitted that you weren’t capable of planning an expedition as big as this?’ Achilles demanded. ‘Were you less than you are – and were you not what you are by the grace of the Gods! – I would strike you down. You led us to Troy with no thought in your head beyond your own glory! You used the Oath to get your grand army together, then proceeded to ignore the wishes and needs of your brother – how much have you really considered Menelaos? Can you say in all honesty that you do this for the sake of your brother? Of course you can’t! You never even pretended that! From the very beginning your aim has been to enrich yourself from the sack of Troy, and carve an empire for yourself in Asia Minor! We’d all grow fat on it, I admit, but none so fat as you!’

Menelaos cried out, tears streaming down his cheeks, his grief betraying a terrible disillusionment. While he sobbed like a child in pain, Achilles took him by the shoulder and rubbed it. The atmosphere was stormpacked; one more word and they would all be at Agamemnon’s throat. Feeling my sword arm begin to tingle, I looked at Odysseus, standing motionless with the Staff in his hand while Agamemnon locked his hands together in his lap and looked down at them.

In the end it was Nestor who stepped into the breach. He turned on Achilles savagely. ‘Young man, your lack of respect deserves a flogging! What gives you the right to criticise our High King when men like myself do not? Odysseus levelled no charges – how dare
you
presume to do so? Hold your tongue!’

Achilles took this without a murmur. He bent the knee to Agamemnon in apology, and sat down. By nature he was not a hothead, but there had been bad blood between him and Agamemnon ever since Iphigenia had died at Aulis. Understandable. His name had been used to lure the girl away from Klytemnestra, but Agamemnon hadn’t asked for his consent. Achilles couldn’t seem to forgive any of us, least of all Agamemnon, for our parts in it.

‘Odysseus,’ said Nestor, ‘it’s clear that you don’t have the seniority to manage this collection of noble autocrats, so give me the Staff and let me speak.’ He glared at us. ‘This meeting is a disgrace! In my young days no one would have dared to say the things I’ve heard this morning! For instance, when
I
was a youth and Herakles was all over the land, things were different.’

We sat back and resigned ourselves to one of Nestor’s famous homilies, though when I thought about it afterwards, I was sure the old man started to ramble deliberately; in being forced to listen, we calmed down.

‘Now take Herakles,’ Nestor went on. ‘Unjustly bound to a king not fit to wear the sacred purple of office, set a series of tasks coldbloodedly chosen to bring him death or humiliation, Herakles didn’t even protest. His word was holy to him. He had nobility of mind as well as might of arm. God-got he might have been, but he was a
man
!
A better man than you can ever hope to be, young Achilles. And you, young Ajax. The King is the King. Herakles never forgot that – not when mired to the knees in ordure, not when slipping on the brink of despair and madness. His very manliness put him above Eurystheus, the man he served.
That
was what all other men admired in him, honoured in him. He knew what was owed to the Gods and he knew what was owed to the King. To each he rendered scrupulously at all times. Though it did my heart good to treat him like a brother, he never took encouragement from my friendliness – I the Heir of Neleus, he accounted little better than a freak. It was his consciousness of his position as a slave, his deference and his patience won him undying love and the status of a Hero. Ai, ai! The world will never see his like again.’

Good! He was done, he’d give the Staff back to Odysseus and the council could proceed. But he wasn’t done; instead, he embarked upon a new homily.

‘Theseus!’ he cried. ‘Take Theseus as another example! It was madness overtook him, not lack of nobility or forgetfulness of what is owed to the King. High King himself, I never knew him as any other than a
man.
Or take your father, Diomedes. He was the mightiest warrior of his day, was Tydeus, and he died before the very walls you took a generation later, Diomedes, his life unmarred by dishonour. If I had known what sort of men call themselves Kings and Heirs to Kings here on this beach at Troy, I would never have left sandy Pylos, never sailed the wine-dark sea. Patrokles, pour more wine. I wish to go on speaking, but my throat is parched.’

Patrokles got up slowly, the most put out of all of us; it visibly hurt him to hear Achilles dressed down. The old King of Pylos guzzled an unwatered draught without blinking, licking his lips and sat down on a vacant chair near Agamemnon’s.

‘Odysseus, I intend to steal your thunder. I mean no offence to you in doing so, it is just that apparently it needs an ancient to keep insolent young men in their place,’ he said.

Odysseus grinned. ‘Go ahead, sire! You’ll put the case as well as I could, if not better.’

Which was when I began to smell something fishy. The two of them had been huddling together for days – was this cooked up ahead of time?

‘I doubt that,’ Nestor said, bright blue eyes twinkling. ‘For one so young, you have a remarkable head on your shoulders. I shall sit here, forget personalities and stick to facts. We
must
approach this business without emotion, understand it without confusion or mistake. What is done is done, that’s first and foremost. What’s in the past must be kept there, not dragged up to fuel grudges.’

He leaned forward in his chair. ‘Consider this: we have an army over one hundred thousand strong, combatant and non-combatant, sitting about three leagues from the walls of Troy. Among the noncombatants are cooks, slaves, sailors, armourers, grooms, carpenters, masons and engineers. It seems to me that if the expedition was as badly planned as Prince Achilles tries to make out, then we’d have no skilled tradesmen. Very well. That needs no discussion. We have also to consider the time factor. Our worthy priest Kalchas said ten years, and I for one am inclined to believe him. We aren’t here to defeat one city! We’re here to defeat many nations. Nations stretching from Troy to Kilikia. A task of that magnitude can’t be done in a wink. Even could we throw down Troy’s walls, it couldn’t be done. Are we pirates? Are we brigands? Are we raiders? If we are, then we would assault one city, go home again with the spoils. But I say we’re not pirates. We can’t stop with Troy! We have to go on and defeat Dardania, Mysia, Lydia, Karia, Lykia and Kilikia.’

Achilles was caught; he was watching Nestor as if he had never seen him before. So, I noted, was Agamemnon watching.

‘What would happen,’ said Nestor almost musingly, ‘if we were to split our army down the middle? One half left to sit before Troy and the other half a free agent. The force at Troy would contain Troy, large enough to be at least of equal strength to any army Priam might send against it. The second force would roam up and down the coast of Asia Minor, attacking, pillaging and burning every settlement between Andramyttios and far Kilikia. It would decimate and ravage, take slaves, loot cities, lay waste the land, never appear where expected. Thus it would accomplish two things – keep both halves of our army amply supplied with food and other necessities – perhaps even luxuries – and keep Troy’s allies in Asia Minor in such perpetual fear that they’ll never manage to send Priam aid of any kind. At no point along the coast are there sufficient concentrations of people to resist a large and well-led army. But I very much doubt that any of the Asia Minor Kings will have the foresight to abandon their own lands in order to congregate at Troy.’

Of course the pair of them had cooked this up beforehand! Everything just rolled off Nestor’s tongue like syrup off a cake. Odysseus was sitting smiling in absolute content and approval and Nestor was in his element.

‘The half of the army left before Troy would prevent the Trojans from making an assault on our camp or our ships,’ Nestor continued. ‘It would also steadily whittle down morale inside the city. What we have to do is turn the walls from a protection to a prison within the minds of the inhabitants. Without going into details, there are ways we can influence Trojan thinking, from the Citadel to the meanest hovel. Take my word for it, there are. Craft is essential, but with Odysseus, we have craft.’

He sighed, wriggled, demanded more wine; but this time when Patrokles made the rounds he did so with increased respect for the aged King of Pylos.

‘If we decide to persist in this war,’ said Nestor, ‘there are a host of rewards ripe for the plucking. Troy is wealthy beyond our dreams. The spoils will enrich all of our nations, and ourselves too. Achilles was right about that. I would remind you that Agamemnon always saw the advantage of crushing the Asia Minor allies. If we do crush them we’ll be free to colonise, resettle our people in greater plenty than they currently enjoy cramped up in Greece. And,’ he went on, his voice dropping in tone but increasing in power, ‘most importantly of all, the Hellespont and the Euxine Sea will be
ours.
We can colonise in the Euxine as well. We’ll have all the tin and copper we need to make bronze. We’ll have Skythian gold. Emeralds. Sapphires. Rubies. Silver. Wool. Emmer wheat. Barley. Electrum. Other metals. Other foods. Other commodities. An exciting prospect, don’t you agree?’

We stirred, began to smile at each other, while Agamemnon visibly revived.

‘The walls of Troy must be left severely alone,’ the old man went on firmly. ‘The half of the army left here must serve a purely irritative function – keep the Trojans unsettled and content itself with minor skirmishes. We have an excellent camp site here, I see no need to move to another location. Odysseus, what are the two rivers called?’

Odysseus answered crisply. ‘The bigger stream with the yellow water is Skamander. It’s polluted from Trojan effluent, which is why there’s a ban on bathing or drinking. The smaller stream with untainted water is Simois.’

‘Thank you. Our first task, then, is to build a defensive wall from Skamander clear across to Simois about half a league in from the lagoon. It will have to be at least fifteen cubits high. Outside it we’ll put a palisade of spiked stakes and dig a trench fifteen cubits deep, more sharpened stakes in its bottom. This will keep the half of the army left before Troy busy right through the coming winter – and keep the men warm, labouring.’

Suddenly he stopped, waved at Odysseus. ‘I’ve had enough. Odysseus, continue.’

Of course they’d hatched it huddled together! Odysseus continued as if he’d been speaking all along. ‘No troops ought to be permanently inactive, so the two halves of the army will take turns of duty – six moons before Troy, six moons attacking up and down the coast. This will keep everyone fresh. I cannot emphasise too strongly,’ he said, ‘that we must create and maintain the impression that we intend to remain on this side of the Aegaean forever if necessary! Be they Trojans or Lykians, I want the people of the Asia Minor states to despair, to wither, to become more stripped of hope with every passing year. The mobile half of our army will bleed Priam and his allies to death. Their gold will end up in
our
coffers. I estimate that it will take two years for the message to sink in, but sink in it will. It must.’

‘I take it, then,’ said Achilles, his tone and manner very polite, ‘that the free-agent half of the army won’t live here?’

‘No, it will have its own headquarters,’ said Odysseus, well pleased at the politeness. ‘Further south, perhaps where Dardania abuts onto Mysia. There’s a port in those parts called Assos. I haven’t seen it, but Telephos says it’s adequate for the purpose. The spoils from the coast will be taken there, as will all the food and other items. Between Assos and our beach here a feeder line will operate continually, sailing close to the coast for safety in all weathers. Phoinix is the only true sailor among the high nobility, so I suggest that he take charge of the feeder line. I know he vowed to Peleus that he’d stay with Achilles, but he can do that in this role.’

He stopped for a moment to let his grey eyes look into each pair watching him. ‘I would end by reminding everyone here that Kalchas said the war will last ten years. I think it can’t be concluded in less. And that’s what all of you have to think about. Ten years away from home. Ten years during which our children will grow up. Ten years during which our wives will have to rule. Home is too far away and our task here too demanding to allow us to visit Greece. Ten years is a very long time.’ He bowed to Agamemnon. ‘Sire, the plan that Nestor and I have outlined is only valid with your approval. If you dislike it, then Nestor and I will say no more. We are, as always, your servants.’

Ten years away from home. Ten years of exile. Was the conquest of Asia Minor worth that price? I for one didn’t know. Though I think that if it hadn’t been for Odysseus I would have elected to sail home on the morrow; but because he had obviously made up his mind to remain, I never did voice my heart’s desire.