for us!" Agamemnon cried, his narrow little eyes actually brimming with tears. "The Hatti army could annihilate us and the Trojans at the same time!"
Everyone seemed to agree.
"They have fought battles against the Egyptians!"
"They conquered Akkad."
"And sacked Babylon!"
"Hattusilis marched on Miletus and the city opened its gates to him, rather than have his army batter down its walls."
The fear that spread around the council circle was palpable, like a cold wind that snuffs out a candle and leaves you in darkness.
None of them seemed to know what to do. They dithered like a herd of antelope that sees a pride of lions approaching and cannot make up its mind which way to run.
Finally Odysseus asked for the scepter. Rising, he said calmly, "Perhaps Hector and his wicked brother are wrong in their belief that the Hatti are marching to their aid. Perhaps the Hatti troops are nearby for reasons of their own, reasons that have nothing to do with our war against Troy."
Mumbles and mutters of dissent. "Too good to be true," said one voice out of the grumbling background.
"I suggest we send a herald to meet the Hatti commander and ask what his intentions are. Let our herald carry with him some sign of the agreement between Hattusilis and our own High King, to remind the Hatti commander that his king has promised not to interfere in our war."
"What good would that do?" Agamemnon wrung his hands, wincing and clutching his shoulder.
"If they mean to war on us, we might as well pack up now and sail back home."
Everyone agreed with that.
But Odysseus held the scepter aloft until they fell silent. "If the Hatti are coming to Troy's aid, would Hector be preparing to attack our camp tomorrow?" he asked.
Puzzled glances went around the circle. Much scratching of beards.
Odysseus continued, "He is making preparations to attack us, that we know. Why would he risk the lives of his own people—and his own neck—if there's a Hatti army on its way to fight at his side?"
"For glory," said Patrokles. "Hector is like my lord Achilles: his life means less to him than honor and glory."
With a shake of head, Odysseus replied, "Perhaps that is true. But I am not convinced of it. I say we should at least send a herald to show the Hatti general his king's sworn agreement with us, and to determine if the Hatti really will come to Troy's relief."
It took another hour or so of wrangling, but eventually they agreed to Odysseus's plan. They really had no other option, except to sail away.
The herald they picked, of course, was me.
When at last the council meeting ended, I asked Odysseus for permission to approach Menalaos with a private message from his wife. The King of Ithaca looked at me solemnly, his mind playing out the possible consequences of such a message. Then, with a nod, he called out Menalaos's name and caught up with the Spartan king as he turned at the door of Agamemnon's hut.
"Orion has a message for you, from Helen," he said simply, his voice low so that the other departing council members could not easily hear him.
"What is it?" he asked eagerly, clutching my arm as we stepped through the doorway and out onto the beach.
Odysseus stayed tactfully inside the hut. Menalaos and I walked a few paces along the sand before I spoke. He was a handsome man, with a full black beard and thick curly hair. Menalaos was many years younger than his brother, and where Agamemnon's features were heavy and almost coarse, the same general structure gave Menalaos's face a sort of strength and nobility. He was much slimmer than the High King, not given to feasting and drinking.
"Your wife sends you greetings," I began, "and says that she will return willingly with you to Sparta . . ."
His face lit up anew.
I finished, ". . . but only if you succeed in conquering Troy. She said she will not leave Troy as a consolation prize for the loser of this war."
Menalaos took a deep breath and threw his head back. "Then by the gods," he murmured, "by
Everyone seemed to agree.
"They have fought battles against the Egyptians!"
"They conquered Akkad."
"And sacked Babylon!"
"Hattusilis marched on Miletus and the city opened its gates to him, rather than have his army batter down its walls."
The fear that spread around the council circle was palpable, like a cold wind that snuffs out a candle and leaves you in darkness.
None of them seemed to know what to do. They dithered like a herd of antelope that sees a pride of lions approaching and cannot make up its mind which way to run.
Finally Odysseus asked for the scepter. Rising, he said calmly, "Perhaps Hector and his wicked brother are wrong in their belief that the Hatti are marching to their aid. Perhaps the Hatti troops are nearby for reasons of their own, reasons that have nothing to do with our war against Troy."
Mumbles and mutters of dissent. "Too good to be true," said one voice out of the grumbling background.
"I suggest we send a herald to meet the Hatti commander and ask what his intentions are. Let our herald carry with him some sign of the agreement between Hattusilis and our own High King, to remind the Hatti commander that his king has promised not to interfere in our war."
"What good would that do?" Agamemnon wrung his hands, wincing and clutching his shoulder.
"If they mean to war on us, we might as well pack up now and sail back home."
Everyone agreed with that.
But Odysseus held the scepter aloft until they fell silent. "If the Hatti are coming to Troy's aid, would Hector be preparing to attack our camp tomorrow?" he asked.
Puzzled glances went around the circle. Much scratching of beards.
Odysseus continued, "He is making preparations to attack us, that we know. Why would he risk the lives of his own people—and his own neck—if there's a Hatti army on its way to fight at his side?"
"For glory," said Patrokles. "Hector is like my lord Achilles: his life means less to him than honor and glory."
With a shake of head, Odysseus replied, "Perhaps that is true. But I am not convinced of it. I say we should at least send a herald to show the Hatti general his king's sworn agreement with us, and to determine if the Hatti really will come to Troy's relief."
It took another hour or so of wrangling, but eventually they agreed to Odysseus's plan. They really had no other option, except to sail away.
The herald they picked, of course, was me.
When at last the council meeting ended, I asked Odysseus for permission to approach Menalaos with a private message from his wife. The King of Ithaca looked at me solemnly, his mind playing out the possible consequences of such a message. Then, with a nod, he called out Menalaos's name and caught up with the Spartan king as he turned at the door of Agamemnon's hut.
"Orion has a message for you, from Helen," he said simply, his voice low so that the other departing council members could not easily hear him.
"What is it?" he asked eagerly, clutching my arm as we stepped through the doorway and out onto the beach.
Odysseus stayed tactfully inside the hut. Menalaos and I walked a few paces along the sand before I spoke. He was a handsome man, with a full black beard and thick curly hair. Menalaos was many years younger than his brother, and where Agamemnon's features were heavy and almost coarse, the same general structure gave Menalaos's face a sort of strength and nobility. He was much slimmer than the High King, not given to feasting and drinking.
"Your wife sends you greetings," I began, "and says that she will return willingly with you to Sparta . . ."
His face lit up anew.
I finished, ". . . but only if you succeed in conquering Troy. She said she will not leave Troy as a consolation prize for the loser of this war."
Menalaos took a deep breath and threw his head back. "Then by the gods," he murmured, "by
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