Glyn Iliffe - The Armour of Achilles

Ajax spat on the sand.

‘Words and tricks – is that all you have to boast of, Odysseus? When all’s said and done, a man’s courage and honour is determined by his performance in battle; courage is the measure by which Achilles’s armour will be awarded, and in that I surpass you ! Was it intelligence and cunning that carried the body of Achilles out of the clutches of the Trojans and all the way back here, in spite of their countless spears and arrows? Of course not – it was the strength and bravery of Ajax, son of Telamon!’

His words were greeted by a rumble of approval from the army crowded about the circle of benches.

‘And was it my intelligence and cunning that covered your back as you carried Achilles?’ Odysseus replied, turning to look his opponent in the eye. ‘No, it was my courage and skill that saved you, Ajax. Without me you wouldn’t even have reached the fords of the Scamander. My bravery is a match for yours and you know it!’

‘By Ares’s sword!’ Ajax snapped. ‘If you hadn’t have been there, Odysseus, I would have fought the Trojans with one hand and dragged Achilles’s body back to the ships with the other.’

‘The armour should be given to Ajax!’ Little Ajax shouted, raising his arms in the air. ‘Odysseus is nothing but a clever fraud. Award the armour to Ajax!’

Suddenly knots of men stood and began to cheer and shout Ajax’s name. Odysseus recognized them as a mixture of Locrians and Ajax’s own men, who had been deliberately spread out among the army. But they were quickly joined by others and soon almost every man was on his feet and roaring approval for Ajax. At last the chanting died away as the heralds persuaded and cajoled the dense ranks to sit back down in the sand.

‘You’ve heard what Odysseus and I have to say, my lord,’ Ajax said, turning to Agamemnon with a triumphant smile. ‘And you’ve heard what the army thinks. Now it’s time to make your decision—’

‘Not quite,’ Odysseus interrupted. ‘There’s one other opinion that should be heard, an opinion more important than either mine, Ajax’s, or even that of the whole army.’

Agamemnon narrowed his eyes at Odysseus, then slowly scanned the circle of benches. Complete silence had fallen as the vast audience waited in expectation.

‘Whose?’ Agamemnon asked after no one else had stepped forward.

‘The opinion of Achilles himself.’

‘Achilles?’ exclaimed Ajax. ‘What nonsense is this? Can you conjure up the dead now, Odysseus?’

Odysseus took a step closer to Agamemnon.

‘When Achilles fell, Eperitus and I were the first to reach him. I took his head in my lap and tried to comfort him as the fear of death settled upon him. Then he clutched at me and asked that I hear his final words. I bent my ear to his mouth.’

The faces of the council were rapt in awe as Odysseus paused for effect, each of them clearly desperate to know what Achilles’s final words had been. Even Ajax was staring wide-eyed and dumbfounded as Odysseus brushed away a dramatic tear. Words and tricks, Ajax had sneered; but words and tricks were going to steal the armour of Achilles from his fingertips. The king of Ithaca looked up and scanned the faces of the waiting audience.

‘He pulled me near with the last of his strength and whispered these words: “To you, Odysseus, I bequeath my glorious armour, to be worn honourably as a token of my gratitude.” As Athena is my witness, I swear this was his last wish. But don’t take my word for it. Ask Eperitus.’

There was uproar. Men of every rank suddenly began talking at the same time, their exclamations of disbelief and shock growing increasingly louder as they shouted to be heard. And as more and more turned to face Eperitus, Odysseus looked at his friend and saw the doubt and internal debate reflected in his eyes.

‘Silence!’ Agamemnon bellowed, standing and raising his golden staff above his head. The babble of voices fell away. ‘This contest is not decided yet. If your claim is true, Odysseus, the armour of Achilles is yours. But first I must have confirmation from Eperitus.’

Ajax, who had been aghast and speechless up to that point, stepped forward.

‘No! Eperitus is Odysseus’s man. He will say whatever Odysseus wants him to say.’

‘Eperitus is a man of honour,’ Agamemnon countered, turning his cold blue eyes on the Ithacan. ‘I will take him at his word. Tell us truthfully and on your oath, Eperitus: did Achilles promise Odysseus his armour?’

Eperitus looked at Odysseus, then raised himself slowly to his feet.

‘It’s true, Achilles did confer his armour on Odysseus,’ he admitted. ‘But those were not his last words. “To be worn honourably as a token of my gratitude,” he said, “ for of all the Greeks, you alone have come to my aid .” He uttered this with his final breath, unaware that Ajax was fighting off the Trojans only a few paces away.’

Eperitus dropped back down on the bench and put his head in his hands, just as all around him every other member of the council leapt to their feet and began to shout again. But this time they were not calling out in shock or disbelief. Now they were hurling curses and accusations at the king of Ithaca, while Odysseus stood in the eye of the storm staring at his captain. Had Eperitus told the truth to uphold his own sense of honour, or was he doing what he thought was best for his king? Odysseus knew it was the latter, and he did not blame him.

‘Shut up , damn you all!’ Menelaus yelled.

When the voices showed no sign of abating, he pointed to Talthybius, who raised a horn to his lip and blew. Once again a reluctant silence fell over the debate.

‘Then the judgment has yet to be made,’ Ajax declared. ‘Come, Agamemnon, you’ve seen the trickery and deceit this man is capable of. Make your decision and make it quickly.’

Agamemnon sat back down and shook his head.

‘I’ve a mind to bury this cursed armour along with Achilles’s ashes in that barrow, where it can’t cause any more trouble.’

‘And have some grave robber steal it when the war has ended and we’ve all sailed home?’ Odysseus replied. ‘That would be folly indeed. But I’ve another suggestion, if you’ll hear it. Ajax and I have proved ourselves equal in our valour: but if you want to know who was the most courageous, then ask the Trojans we fought. Let them decide between us.’

‘A fair proposal,’ Agamemnon said. ‘What do you say, Ajax?’

Ajax gave a surly nod and Talthybius was sent with an armed escort to fetch a dozen of the men who had been captured during the retreat from the Scaean Gate. It was not long before Talthybius returned, followed by a procession of bruised and dishevelled-looking Trojans with their wrists bound together by leather cords. Most were tired old men or frightened lads, and without their armour and weapons they looked little better than a band of slaves. Only three had the demeanour of true warriors, their bodies marked with old battle scars and their eyes proud and still belligerent. It was one of these that Agamemnon beckoned forward.

‘What’s your name?’ he asked in the Trojan tongue.

‘Lethos, son of Thymoites.’

‘You fought in the battle by the Scaean Gate?’

‘I fought by the Gate, my lord, where Achilles was killed. And then I joined the pursuit of your army across the plain.’

‘Where you surrendered your arms and your honour,’ Agamemnon non replied, a hint of stiffness in his voice. ‘I want you and your countrymen to answer a simple question. Reply truthfully and you will enjoy meat and wine for a month, instead of bread and water. Do you speak Greek?’

Lethos nodded.

‘Then tell us who the Trojans fear most among the Greeks,’ Ajax demanded, towering over the man.