4
No sooner had Paris the Trojan sailed away carrying Helen with him, than Hera, Queen of the Immortals and his sworn enemy, sent her messenger Iris to tell Menelaus of his loss. Iris was the bright sister of the evil Harpies, and the sworn servant of the Immortals, and of Hera in particular; and when she went on a message, Zeus spread his rainbow as a bridge for her from heaven to earth.
Full of sorrow at the loss of Helen, and anger against the daring Trojan thief, Menelaus hastened back to Greece. First of all he went to his brother Agamemnon, lord of rich Mycenae, who was the husband of Helen's sister, Clytemnestra.
‘The beautiful Helen has been stolen away by Trojan Paris!’ he cried. ‘Now is the time to gather all the kings and princes of Greece, according to their oath when all were her suitors at Sparta, and set sail for Troy to exact vengeance!’
Agamemnon was not quite as eager to go to war as his brother was, and first of all sent a swift ship to Troy, demanding Helen's instant return. But the ship, making the crossing in three days, reached Troy long before Paris, and Priam sent back an insolent answer:
‘How can you Greeks make so much fuss about one missing woman? First of all return the women of Asia whom you have stolen – Medea of Colchis, and my own sister Hesione!’
This reply angered Agamemnon: for Medea had come to Greece of her own wish, and brought much evil to Jason by so doing. As for Hesione, Laomedon had promised her to Heracles if he could save her from the sea-monster. But the theft of Helen was a crime committed by a guest against his host – one of the worst of sins in Greek eyes.
So Agamemnon sent out heralds through all Greece bidding the kings and princes gather men and ships, and meet at the port of Aulis, on the coast not very far from Thebes.
Presently the heralds began to return, bringing news of the eagerness with which the heroes were answering the summons. But one startling piece of news brought back by them was that Odysseus of Ithaca, son of Laertes the Argonaut, the very man who had suggested the oath which bound the suitors of Helen, could not come – for he had gone mad.
Anxious to investigate this extraordinary rumour, Agamemnon and Menelaus set out for Ithaca, accompanied by Palamedes the young prince of Nauplia. Sure enough, when they landed it was to find Odysseus ploughing the sand on the sea-shore, with an ox and a horse harnessed to his plough, and sowing salt instead of seed.
He seemed to be very mad indeed: but Palamedes had a suspicious mind, and thought he would test this madness. So he seized Telemachus, the infant son of Odysseus and Penelope and placed him in front of the plough. Sure enough, when Odysseus saw his beloved son in such danger, he reined in his strange team and made haste to pick up the baby.
After that, his pretence of madness was at an end, and he explained that he had only done so because of an oracle which warned him that if he went to Troy he would not return home for twenty years.
Odysseus loved his island home, and adored his wife and child, so he could never forgive Palamedes for having ruined his clever scheme for avoiding the summons to Troy. Nevertheless he went now with a smile and a shrug, and not one of the heroes did better service in the war than he.
On their voyage to Aulis, Odysseus and Palamedes went out of their way to visit Cyprus, to persuade King Cinyras to join the Greek Allies against Troy. In the end Cinyras promised solemnly to send fifty ships, and Menelaus sailed on to Aulis with the good news. But when the contingent from Cyprus arrived, it consisted of one ship only – which carried forty-nine others, modelled in clay. It was believed by many of the Greeks that Cinyras had in fact bribed Palamedes to relieve him from his promise.
Odysseus also visited Delos, accompanied this time by Menelaus, to beg the aid of the three daughters of King Anius, the son of Apollo. These three wonderful maidens were called ‘The Wine-growers’, for Dionysus, whose daughter Rhoio was their mother, had given them the magic touch. One of the maidens could turn what she would into wine: the second could produce corn in the same fashion, and the third olives.
King Anius, who had a gift of prophecy from his father, would not at first allow his daughters to go:
‘But,’ said he, ‘why not come and live here – all of you – for nine years? Then I'll see what I can do; for it has been revealed to me that Troy will not fall until the tenth year! And my daughters can feed you here just as well as at Troy!’
Menelaus would not believe this: however he returned with the message. But Agamemnon was already beginning to feel the corrupting joys of absolute power, and he sent Palamedes to fetch the Wine-growers by force – and the maidens fed the Greek army for nine years. In the end they escaped, but were pursued by Agamemnon's orders, and when they were overtaken, prayed to Dionysus for aid, and he turned them into doves – which were ever afterwards held sacred on the lovely little island of Delos.
It was some time before the kings and princes of Greece were all assembled at Aulis with their fleets and armies; but in the end there were one thousand and thirteen ships, with forty-three leaders. And when they were all assembled, there was no wind to waft them across the sea.
Then Calchas, a priest of Apollo, began to prophesy. He was a Trojan traitor who had come to Agamemnon saying that he had left Troy because his foresight told him that Troy must fall: moreover, he said, he could not remain in a city guilty of such a crime as the theft of Helen.
Agamemnon believed everything that Calchas told, for he was very superstitious, and Calchas began by prophesying that Troy would never fall unless Achilles, the young son of the hero Peleus who was too old to come in person, led his people, the Myrmidons, to the war. It was rumoured that young Achilles, aged fifteen by this time, was concealed at the court of King Lycomedes on the island of Scyros, and Odysseus set out at once to find him, accompanied by Diomedes.
On the way Odysseus laid his plans, and Diomedes made ready to play his part. They arrived at Scyros dressed as merchants, though Odysseus drew King Lycomedes aside and gave him a message from Agamemnon demanding that Achilles should be given up to them.
‘He is not here,’ answered Lycomedes boldly. ‘You may look anywhere you like in my palace.’
As search proved of no avail, Odysseus put his scheme into action. Still disguised as a merchant, he visited Princess Deidamia and her maidens carrying a goodly roll of merchandise, which he spread out before them.
‘Now then, fair ladies!’ he cried. ‘Come and take your choice! There are gifts for all of you – a poor return for all King Lycomedes's kindness to us merchants.’
The maidens gathered round, and began fingering and trying on the brooches and jewelled belts, snoods and other trifles. But the maiden Pyrrha lighted upon a sword which was somehow mixed up with all the feminine gewgaws and trumperies, and fingered it longingly. Suddenly a martial trumpet sounded just outside the door, and there was a cry from Diomedes and a clash of weapons. The maidens screamed, and turned to fly, but Pyrrha snatched up the sword, flung off cloak and robe and stood forth to do battle – Achilles revealed in all his young strength and daring.
‘Ah-ha!’ cried Odysseus. ‘Up, son of mighty Peleus and come with us to Troy. No more can guileful Thetis conceal you here; come, and show your metal, and bring honour to your father who in olden days stood beside Heracles, the greatest of heroes!’
So Achilles made haste to collect his troops, and left behind him Princess Deidamia whom he had married in secret, and their young son Neoptolemus. Soon he and his Myrmidons arrived at Aulis; and with him came his cousin Patroclus, some years older than he was, but already his dearest friend.
Now everything seemed ready for the expedition to set out, and Calchas offered up a great sacrifice to the Immortals. While all the chiefs were gathered together round the altar, a blue snake with red markings darted suddenly from beneath the stone, climbed to the top-most branch of a plane-tree which stood close by and there devoured eight baby sparrows in their nest, finishing off by eating the mother-sparrow also. Having done this, the snake was turned immediately into stone.
‘An omen!’ cried Calchas. ‘An omen from Zeus! He has shown us this sign, late come, of late fulfilment, the fame of which shall never perish. For even as the snake swallowed the eight baby sparrows and then the parent bird, so shall we war against Troy for nine years: but in the tenth year we shall take that wide-wayed city.’
Then the great fleet set sail, with Agamemnon in command of the whole army, and Odysseus, Diomedes and Palamedes as seconds in command, while Achilles was admiral of the fleet. Nestor, the old hero of Pylos, was Agamemnon's chief adviser; and he took heed of his words even more readily than those of the wise Odysseus.
Achilles did not prove a very satisfactory Admiral, for he led the fleet so badly that they landed in Mysia, several hundred miles south of Troy. Then, thinking that they had reached their journey's end, they set to work to ravage the country and burn down the villages, at which Telephus, King of Mysia, who was a son of Heracles, gathered his army together and chased the Greeks back to their ships. Unfortunately for himself, he tripped over a vine and was wounded in the thigh by Achilles.
The Greeks, realizing their mistake, set sail again: but a fearful storm broke upon them, and drove them back towards Greece, scattering the fleet far and wide.
When at length he came to land, Agamemnon found that he and a large portion of the fleet had been driven to his own homeland of Argolis so he returned to Mycenae while his ships were repaired, and sent messengers bidding the other heroes assemble once more at Aulis the following spring.
Meanwhile King Telephus was suffering so sorely from his wound, which showed no sign of healing, that he consulted an oracle, and was told ‘Only the wounder can heal!’ Accordingly he set out for Greece, disguised as a beggar, and came to Mycenae where many of the leaders were assembled. Clytemnestra hospitably offered him a place by the fireside, and there he suddenly seized Orestes, the baby son of the King and Queen of Mycenae, from his cradle, and cried:
‘I am Telephus, King of Mysia, whom you wronged! If you will cure me of my wound, and swear that no harm shall befall me, I will guide your fleet to Troy. But if you attempt to kill me, I will slay this young prince.’
Then Agamemnon swore the required oath, and Achilles cured Telephus of his wound with the aid of the magic spear which had inflicted it.
Now, with a trustworthy pilot assured, the Greeks assembled once more at Aulis and made ready for the invasion of Troy. But a dead calm lay over all the sea for day after day, and sail they could not. At last the prophet Calchas arose and said:
‘King Agamemnon, the Immortal Artemis has caused this calm, to punish you for boasting that you were a better shot than she is. And you will never sail to Troy until you sacrifice to her your daughter Iphigenia.’
Agamemnon was filled with grief, and at first wished to abandon the whole expedition. But presently he changed his mind and sent Odysseus to fetch Iphigenia.
‘Tell my wife, Queen Clytemnestra,’ he said, ‘that Iphigenia is to come here as a bride. Say that Achilles wishes to marry her, and will not set sail for Troy until after the wedding.’
Believing this, Clytemnestra set out herself with her daughter and arrived at the Greek camp. Here she met Achilles, and greeted him as her future son-in-law: but he was amazed, for not only had he heard nothing of the matter, but was already married to Deidamia.
Very soon Clytemnestra discovered Agamemnon's shameful trick and failing to turn him from his purpose, she begged Achilles to save Iphigenia. Full of indignation against Agamemnon, Achilles agreed to do so; but what was his consternation when he discovered that Calchas had spread abroad his prophecy, and all the army, including the Myrmidons themselves, were clamouring for the sacrifice to be carried out.
To the reproaches of Clytemnestra and the terrified prayers of Iphigenia, Agamemnon answered sadly and bitterly:
‘I am no madman, nor have I ceased to love my children. This is a fearful thing, yet I must do it. Unless this sacrifice is made, so Calchas assures me, we can never reach Troy: and all the Greeks are burning to smite the foe. If Paris goes unpunished for the theft of Helen, they believe that the Trojans will come to Greece and steal more women – steal their wives – steal you and our daughters. I do not bow to the will of Menelaus: it is not merely to bring back Helen that we go. But I do bow to the will of all Greece, and bow I must whether I will it or not – for Greece is greater far than any personal sorrow. We live for her, to guard her freedom.’
Clytemnestra would still have struggled against it, and Achilles offered to fight single-handed, but Iphigenia rose to the sacrifice:
‘I have chosen death,’ she said, ‘I choose honour. With me rests the freedom of our beloved land, the honour of our women through many years to come. My death will save them – and my name will be blessed as the name of one who freed Greece from fear and slavery.’
So Iphigenia, hailed by the army as the true conqueror of Troy, went steadfastly to her death.
But Immortal Artemis took pity on her youth and on her great courage. As the knife was actually falling and the fire was already kindled, she snatched her away and set a doe in her place.
After that the wind rose strongly from the west, and that great armada set out joyfully in the direction of Troy.