An Iliad. Alessandro Baricco

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СКАЧАТЬ learn from them.’ In the end he managed to stop them. From the ships and the tents they turned back, like the sea when it roars up onto the shore and then recedes, making all Ocean echo.

      It was then that I decided to have my say. There, in front of them all, that day, I spoke. ‘Hey you, Agamemnon, what more do you want? What are you complaining about? Your tent is full of bronze, and full of beautiful women, too: the ones you choose when we give them to you after stealing them from their homes. Maybe you want more gold, brought by the Trojan fathers to ransom their sons, whom we take prisoner on the battlefield? Or is it a new woman you want, a woman to take to your bed, all for yourself? No, it’s not right for a king to lead the sons of the Danaans to disaster. My friends, don’t be cowards. Let’s go home and leave him here in Troy to enjoy his spoils, then he’ll see if we were useful or not. He has dishonoured Achilles, a warrior a thousand times as great as he. He has taken away Achilles’ share of the spoils and now keeps it for himself. As for anger – if Achilles were really burning with rage, you, Agamemnon, would not be here insulting us again.’

      The Achaeans stood and listened to me. Many of them were enraged with Agamemnon because of what had happened with Achilles. So they listened to me. Agamemnon said nothing. But Odysseus, well, he came over to me. ‘You speak eloquently,’ he said to me. ‘But you speak like an idiot. You are the lowest of the low, you know, Thersites? The lowest of all the soldiers who came to the walls of Troy. You enjoy insulting Agamemnon, the king of kings, only because you Achaean fighters have brought him so many prizes. But I tell you, and I swear to you, that if I catch you saying stupid things like this again, I will take hold of you and strip off your clothes – cloak, tunic, everything – and send you naked back to the ships, wailing from a beating you won’t forget.’ And so speaking, he began to hit me on the shoulders and the back with the sceptre. I cringed under the blows. The blood dripped thick on my cloak, and I howled in pain and humiliation. Frightened, I fell to the ground. I lay there, dazed, drying my tears, while all around they laughed at me.

      Then Odysseus raised the sceptre, turned towards Agamemnon, and in a loud voice, so that all could hear him, he said, ‘Son of Atreus, the Achaeans today wish to make you the most wretched among mortals. They promised to destroy Ilium the fair and now instead they are weeping like boys, like miserable widows, and they ask to return home. Certainly I can’t blame them: we’ve been here for nine years, when a mere month’s absence from our wives would make us long to return. And yet what dishonour it would be to abandon the battlefield when we have spent so much time and gained nothing. Friends, we must be patient still. Do you remember the day we assembled in Aulis, ready to depart, on our way to destroy Priam and the Trojans? Do you remember what happened? We were offering sacrifices to the gods near a spring, under a lovely, light-dappled plane tree. And suddenly a serpent with a blood-red back, a horrible monster that Zeus himself had created, emerged from under the altars and slithered up the tree. There was a nest of swallows above, and he went up and devoured all of them: eight little ones and the mother. And immediately afterwards he was turned to stone. We saw it all and were struck dumb. But Calchas – do you remember what Calchas said? “It’s a sign,” he said. “Zeus has sent us a sign. It is an omen of infinite glory. Just as the serpent devoured eight little ones and the mother, so we will have to fight in Ilium for nine years. But in the tenth year we will take Troy and its broad streets.” This he said to us. And today you see that prophecy fulfilled before your eyes. Listen to me, Achaeans with your weapons of war. Do not run away. Stay here. And we will capture the great city of Priam.’

      Thus he spoke. The Achaeans gave a loud shout, and the ships resounded with the tremendous clamour of their enthusiasm. Just then, the old man Nestor spoke again, saying, ‘Agamemnon, return and lead us into battle with your old indomitable will. No one wants to hurry home before he’s slept with the wife of a Trojan, to avenge what we’ve suffered for the abduction of Helen. And I tell you that if anyone, in his foolishness, decides to go, then he won’t get as far as his black ship before he meets his destined death.’

      In silence they listened to him. Old men … Agamemnon almost bowed. ‘Yet again, old man, you’ve spoken wisely.’ Then he looked out over all of us and said, ‘Go and prepare, because today we will attack. Eat, sharpen your spears, get your shields ready, feed the swift horses well, check your chariots: we’ll fight all day, and only night will separate the fury of men. Your chests will drip with sweat under the heavy shields, and your hands will grow weary holding the spears. But anyone who dares to flee the battle and take shelter near the ships is a dead man.’

      Then they all gave a huge cry and scattered among the ships. Each went to prepare himself for battle. Some ate, some sharpened their weapons, some prayed, some made sacrifices to the gods, hoping to escape death. Soon the kings of divine descent assembled the men and drew them up in their battle lines, rushing among them and urging them on. And suddenly for us all it became sweeter to fight than to return to our homeland. We marched in our bronze armour, and we were like a fire that you watch from a distance as it devours a forest: you see the bright shining flames flaring into the sky. We descended to the plain of Scamander like a huge flock of birds that descends from the sky and lands on the meadow with a great din, wings beating hard. The earth rumbled under the feet of men and the hooves of horses. We stopped near the river, before Troy. We were thousands, as many as the flowers in spring, and we wished for one thing only: the blood of battle.

      Hector and his allies, the foreign princes, assembled their men and came out of the city, on foot or with horses. We heard an immense commotion. We saw them ascending the hill of Bateia, a hill that rose, isolated, in the middle of the plain. There they ranged themselves, under the command of their chiefs. They began to move towards us, shouting like birds in the sky that with their screeching cries proclaim a mortal struggle. And we marched towards them, but in silence, with the anger hidden in our hearts. The footsteps of our armies raised a dust that, like a fog, like a night, consumed everything.

      Finally we came face-to-face. We stopped. And then, suddenly, from the ranks of the Trojans Paris stepped forth, like a god, a leopard skin flung over his shoulders. He was equipped with bow and sword. In one hand he held two bronze-tipped spears, and he shook them at us, challenging the Achaean chiefs. When Menelaus saw him, he rejoiced like a hungry lion who hurls himself on the body of a deer and devours it. He thought that the moment had come to take revenge on the man who had stolen his wife. And he leaped out of his chariot, grasping his weapons. Paris saw him and his heart trembled. He turned away, among his men, to avoid death. Like a man who sees a snake and immediately jumps back, shaking, and flees, his face pale, so we saw him run, until Hector stopped him, shouting, ‘Damn you, Paris, you seducer, liar. Don’t you see that the Achaeans are mocking you? They thought you were a hero because they were impressed by your beauty. But now they know you have no courage and no strength of mind – you who, a guest of Menelaus, in a foreign land, carried off his wife and came home with that beautiful woman at your side. But they are a warrior people, Paris, and you have become the ruin of your father, of your city, of all your countrymen. And now you won’t confront Menelaus? Too bad, you might find out what sort of man he is whose wife you stole. And you would roll in the dust, and discover how useless your lyre is, and your handsome face, and your hair. Ah, we are truly cowards, we Trojans: otherwise you would be buried under a pile of stones by now, to pay for all the evil you have done.’

      Then Paris answered, ‘You’re right, Hector. But what a heart you have, inflexible, like an axe that plunges straight into the wood. You reproach me for my beauty … but we can’t despise the gifts of the gods, the talents they’ve given us: can we refuse them? Do we have any choice in them? Listen to me: if you want me to fight a duel, have all the Trojans and all the Achaeans sit down, and let Menelaus and me, in front of the two armies, fight for Helen. The one who wins will take the woman and all her wealth. And as for you, Trojans and Achaeans, you will make a pact of peace, and the Trojans will live again in the fertile land of Troy, and the Achaeans will return to Argos, to their treasures and their beautiful women.’

      Hector’s joy was great when he heard those words. He walked, alone, between the two armies and, СКАЧАТЬ