‘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.
Lethos looked up at the giant warrior, then about at the faces of the rest of the council. He walked back to join his comrades and spoke with them in whispers, before returning to stand between Agamemnon and Ajax.
‘I know you, my lord. Many times I have seen you in battle, killing without mercy or prejudice. I also saw you carry away the body of the Butcher – Achilles – as strong and tireless as an ox. Yes, the name of King Ajax is well known and greatly feared in Troy.’
Ajax gave a satisfied nod and looked at Agamemnon. ‘You hear? I am the one they fear the most. Give the armour to me.’
‘Your pardon, my lord,’ Lethos interrupted, narrowing his eyes determinedly while taking a step back. ‘We were not asked who we feared the most, but who fought with the greatest courage at the Gate. Though you proved your strength, there was another who wrought havoc among our ranks, killing Trojans by the dozen and preventing us in our fury from capturing Achilles’s body. He was the man who captured me, and he is standing there.’
The assembly erupted in uproar once more as he pointed at Odysseus, but another blast on Talthybius’s horn brought silence.
‘Then the matter is decided,’ Agamemnon declared. ‘Talthy-bius, take these men back and give them meat and wine. Odysseus, come forward and claim what is yours. But first I insist that you and Ajax take oaths of friendship to each other . . .’
‘Friendship?’ Ajax boomed. ‘With a liar and a cheat? No, not I! Take your armour, Odysseus, and wear it with a fool’s pride. You may have frightened these Trojan women into choosing you, but I tell you now that armour will never bring you glory. As far as I’m concerned, it will be a mark of shame. May it be your downfall!’
He spat in the sand at Odysseus’s feet then stormed past him, shoving aside Idomeneus and Sthenelaus and kicking over one of the benches before forcing a passage through the packed soldiers beyond. On the opposite side of the circle, Eperitus rose heavily and slipped away into the crowd, unable to watch as Odysseus stepped forward to claim the armour of Achilles.
‘What will you do now?’
Eperitus turned to see Arceisius following him, an anxious look on his ruddy face.
‘I can’t stay here, that’s for sure. I told the truth before the council, thinking I was saving Odysseus from his own folly, and then Agamemnon awarded him the armour anyway.’