I
Dawn was beginning to redden the waters of the Hellespont when Thetis
reached the tent of Achilles. She found him sitting, lost in a gloomy
reverie, by the side of the bed on which the body of Patroclus lay.
"Come," said Thetis, touching him lightly on the shoulder, "let the
dead bury their dead, and behold the glorious armour which Hephæstus
has wrought for thee."
With that she set down the dazzling panoply, fresh from the forge of
the god; the ethereal metal rang with a dreadful sound, and from the
burnished surface darted angry beams of light, blinding the eyes of the
Myrmidons who had drawn near to gaze, so that they fled in terror from
the sight. But the eyes of Achilles flashed with an answering fire,
and his heart burned with fierce joy, as he handled the work of the
immortal armourer. "Mother," he said, when he had scrutinised every
piece, "the work is worthy of the artist--I can say no more. And now
to battle! Yet one thing I fear--lest the body of my friend be marred
by decay before my vow is accomplished and I am free to bury him."
"Let not that care disquiet thee," answered Thetis, "I will find a
means to keep off the destroying hordes of the air, that breathe
corruption in the limbs of fallen warriors. Though he lie unburied for
the space of a whole year, his flesh shall remain pure and clean, as
the flesh of a little child. Now go thou and summon the Greeks to the
place of assembly, that when thou hast renounced thy feud with
Agamemnon, thou mayest gird thee with might and go forth to battle."
Then she brought nectar and ambrosia, and embalmed therewith the body
of Patroclus, that his flesh might remain sound and whole.
But Achilles strode rapidly along the strand, shouting as he went to
call the people to the assembly. And forthwith from every tent the
multitude came flocking, and not one remained behind, no, not even
those who pursued peaceful crafts, and were not wont to take part in
the councils of the armed host. For not one was willing to be absent
from that memorable meeting.
As he passed on, he overtook Odysseus and Diomede, who were limping
painfully along, leaning on their spears; for they were still sore with
their wounds. After a few words of greeting, he left them to follow,
and went forward to the place where the chiefs were sitting round the
throne of Agamemnon, which was still vacant. It was a level spot, in
the centre of a natural hollow, whose sides rose gently, until they
were closed by a background of waving woods. And now all the slopes
were black with a swarming multitude, armed and unarmed, stout
spearmen, and noisy rabble. At last Agamemnon was seen approaching,
moving slowly and with pain. He took his seat on the royal throne, and
then a dead hush fell on all that vast company, as Achilles rose in his
place, and began to speak.
"Great King," he said, "we are met to end the lamentable feud which
arose out of our quarrel for the sake of the maid Briseis. Would that
she had never been born, or had been stricken with sudden death by the
gentle shafts of Artemis, before ever she had put enmity between me and
thee! So would many a brave man have been alive and well who now lies
sleeping an iron sleep. Yes, for many a year to come the Greeks will
speak of the wrath of Achilles, and of him who was the cause. But here
it ends: my wrath is now aimed at another mark, and once more I am thy
faithful friend and ally. War, war without quarter or mercy--that is
all I ask for now. Let us see if the Trojans will hold their camp at
our gates when they stand beneath the shadow of my destroying spear."
Right glad were the Greeks to learn that the tremendous passions of
Achilles were now enlisted on their side. But their joyful cries were
changed to murmurs of resentment when Agamemnon rose to answer; for
they saw in him the author of all their disasters. Signs of remorse
and confusion appeared in his face; and the first words of his speech
were heard with difficulty amidst the tumult. "Friends and comrades in
arms," he began, "I beseech you to hear me with patience, while I make
confession of my fault. I have sinned, I cannot deny it, through the
dread power of Ate,[1] who blinded my heart, and maimed my wits, on the
day when I took from Achilles his prize. Ah! she is a fearful goddess,
this Ate, a fiend to vex mankind. Soft is her tread, and her path lies
on the heads of men: unseen, unheard, she approaches, and enters into
the soul of him whom she has marked for ruin. Once she dwelt among the
gods in Olympus, but she dared to lay her foul spells on Zeus himself,
so that he fell into grievous error; and when he learnt how he had been
deceived, he swore a mighty oath that never again should that abhorred
witch set foot in the celestial abode. So he caught her by the hair,
and flung her down to earth, to plague the tribes of men. And she it
was who made me her victim, whereby all this mischief befell. But now
I am ready to make all good, and heal the wrong which I have wrought.
And all the gifts which I promised yesterday by the mouth of Odysseus
are thine, Achilles, without abatement of one jot. Wait awhile, before
thou goest into battle, and my squires shall bring them to thy tent."
[1] A personification of moral blindness.
"As for the gifts," replied Achilles, "they are thine to give or to
withhold as thou choosest. But of that hereafter; for the present, I
have work to do which admits of no delay. No more of talk, but let us
away to the field at once."
But here the voice of prudence intervened, checking the fiery
impetuosity of Achilles. "Hear me a moment, valiant prince," said
Odysseus. "We must not lead the people fasting to battle, for an empty
man hath little heart for the fight, which methinks will be neither
short nor easy to-day. Let the people first eat their fill, for a man
cannot face the foe from dawn till eve without tasting meat. However
willing his spirit, his flesh is weak; his limbs are soon overtaken
with weariness, his mouth is parched with thirst, and his knees totter
as he goes. Therefore, I say, let us eat, and after that to battle.
And thou, Achilles, shalt receive the gifts of Agamemnon, and partake
of a banquet of honour with the other chieftains in his tent. The King
knows what is fitting, and he cannot do less."
Agamemnon willingly assented, and was proceeding to give the order to
bring the gifts when Achilles started up again, in eager protest
against this delay.
"Illustrious King," he said, "surely there will be time enough to speak
of these lesser matters when we have humbled the pride of the Trojans,
who are waiting for us on the plain. My friend lies slaughtered,
pierced by Hector's spear, and ye talk to me of meat and drink! By my
will the whole army should keep a solemn fast, until we have washed out
the stain on our honour in a sea of blood, and then, after the great
act of vengeance is complete, we will feast and make merry. I at least
will suffer no morsel or drop to pass my lips as long as my comrade
lies in my tent with his feet to the door, and the women mourning
round. No; far other thoughts fill my heart--blood and slaughter, and
the groans of dying men."
But these desperate counsels found no favour with the veteran heads of
the army, and a deep hum of approval greeted the more sober eloquence
of Odysseus, who now rose again to reply. "Mighty son of Peleus," he
said, "thou art stronger far than I, and thy spear writes deadlier
record on the foemen's ranks; but I have lived longer than thou, and
seen more: bear with me, then, while I speak what reason and experience
hath taught me. Soon weary grows the hand which toils in war's barren
harvest, where the swathe is so thick, and the yield so scanty when the
day is done. We cannot keep a fast for every Greek that falls--where
would be the end? The warrior's dirge is short, and he is honoured
enough if he is mourned for a day. And those who are left must eat,
that they may have strength to fight on the morrow. To your tents,
then, every one! And when ye have eaten, come quickly, armed for the
fight, and await no second summons."
For all his fierce impatience, Achilles was compelled to yield. With
great effort he controlled himself while the gifts were brought, and
the ceremonies performed, with no circumstance of solemnity omitted, to
ratify the covenant of forgiveness and reconciliation between him and
Agamemnon. And so the first act in the great drama of his wrath is
concluded.