Odysseus paused for a third time, waiting for the shock of his news to die away before continuing.
‘But let no man think these Trojans will prove easy opponents. They’ll be ready for us, and what’s more, they’ll be defending their homeland. If we attack too soon, without proper preparations, then we’ll pay the price. My advice is that we should treat them with respect and caution, and build up our forces slowly and professionally over a year or two . . .’
‘To Hades with caution!’ thundered Ajax, making Teucer jump beside him. ‘I say we launch at dawn and take bloody revenge to their walls! Look at the army we’ve gathered! Look at the fleet at anchor down there! What reason do we have to be cautious? Let’s slay the men and take their women and gold for ourselves. Nothing else matters!’
The ranks of warriors, who had fallen silent at the thought of long preparations, now gave a huge shout of enthusiasm, but before Odysseus could respond a man stood on one of the higher rows and wagged his finger accusingly at the gigantic warrior.
‘I’d heard you were a buffoon, Ajax, and now I know it’s true.’
Suddenly the arena fell silent and every face turned to look at the speaker. Last of all, Ajax turned his head and looked up with disbelieving eyes. But instead of finding himself opposed by a powerful king, he was greeted instead by the deformed features of a hunchback. One eye was lost in a tight squint, but the other bulged out in a ferocious stare that roamed from face to face.
‘In fact,’ the hunchback croaked, ‘judging by all the oafish cheering, I’d be surprised if there are enough brains in this arena to fill a helmet.’
‘Shut up!’ called a voice.
‘Sit down, Thersites!’ cried another.
But the hunchback was not to be deterred. ‘All this talk of war! If Agamemnon and Menelaus want to fight the Trojans, then let them! And they can take that great yob Ajax with them.’
Ajax stood, his face flushed and his bunched fists shaking with anger, but Agamemnon signalled for him to resume his seat.
‘What need do the rest of us have for war?’ Thersites continued, scratching the tufts of hair on his cone-shaped head as if confused. ‘What do we care for Troy? Don’t we have our own homes and families to protect?’ At this there was a rumble of agreement from some of the benches. ‘And what will our reward be if we go? Have you asked yourselves how the plunder will be shared? Then let me tell you – the richest pickings to the Atreides brothers, and the scraps for the rest of us!’
‘Silence, you deformed fool!’ Agamemnon shouted, jumping to his feet, his cool facade suddenly and shockingly broken. ‘This is a council of kings, not of commoners, and if you can’t hold your tongue in front of your superiors then I’ll have it cut out and fed to my dogs. Do you understand?’
Thersites’s whole body quaked before Agamemnon’s unexpected rage, and his vulture-like eye twitched in fear as he shrank back down among his Aetolian countrymen.
Agamemnon now waved Odysseus back to his chair and walked out into the middle of the arena. He had regained much of his usual composure, but Eperitus felt there was still a darkness about his face that hinted at his ruffled emotions.
‘Fellow Greeks!’ he said, his voice calm once more. ‘Have we not already heard from my brother how he was thrown out of Troy like a beggar, and from Odysseus of how the Trojans have been preparing to bring war to our shores – news even to my ears? Are we not here today because a Greek queen has been abducted from her bed by a Trojan prince? These things alone are enough to demand war, and yet there remain voices of dissent. I don’t talk of the protests of one ignorant man, but of the nods and the mumbled agreements that accompanied them. Why, then, should you leave your homes to fight a distant foe, beyond the reasons I have already stated? Let me tell you.
‘First, no Greek state has made war on another since the Epigoni laid waste to Thebes ten years ago. As a result, our industries thrive, our merchants sell Greek goods all over the known world, our people are well fed and peace reigns. But such peace brings its own problems, as I said it would when I first proposed a raid against Troy a decade ago. We pay our armies to do nothing, and they in turn are restless. They want war – what warrior doesn’t thirst for the very thing that defines him? And they want plunder, the true wages of a fighting man. So should we return to the old days of fighting each other – brother against brother, father against son?’
‘No!’ a chorus of voices shouted.
‘No, of course we shouldn’t. And then there’s the problem of resources. Every king here knows the pressures of running a state – the constant calls for more copper to make our bronze, more timber to build our homes and our ships, more wool for textiles, more this, that and everything else. But above all?’
‘More slaves!’ Diomedes called out, firmly.
‘After all,’ Agamemnon continued, ‘who spins the yarn, or turns the clay, or mines the silver, or tills the field, or mills the grain, or nurses the babies? Slaves, of course, the beating heart of our agriculture, our industry, even our domestic life. Slaves are the one true product of war. We can buy slaves from Asia, but the constant demand and the high cost are crippling. A war would solve that problem, for a few years at least. Mycenaean merchants tell me that Troy is a rich city – filled with gold, bronze, copper, wool, horses, livestock, timber, spices and, above all, people. If you make war with me against Troy, you and your armies can all have your fill of the plunder. And whatever that fool Thersites might say, I won’t deprive an army of their rights.’
A great cheer rose up from the benches and many stood and applauded the king of Mycenae, or shook their fists triumphantly above their heads as if the hulls of their ships had already been filled with the loot of a ransacked Troy.
‘But I said all this before – ten years ago in Sparta – and no one would listen. The riches of Troy were on offer to us then, but only a handful of you were prepared to leave the safety of your palaces for the promise of glory on foreign soil. Even you, Ajax, though your mighty voice calls for war now – even you said it was impossible to unite the Greeks and raid Ilium. So I come to my final reason why you should leave your families, your homes and your kingdoms to fight a bitter war in a distant place. Stand up, Menelaus.’
The Spartan king, who had been watching the faces of the council as they reacted to the rhetoric of Agamemnon, looked up in surprise. Slowly, he rose to his feet.
‘My brother’s wife has been taken from him,’ Agamemnon continued, walking to where Menelaus stood. ‘He trusted a foreign prince with the most beautiful woman in Greece – you’ve all seen her – while he went off to Crete. The kingdom of Sparta was only his because he married the daughter of its former king. Now that she’s been taken from under his very nose, he has allowed his own authority to be brought into question.’
As the last word left his lips, Agamemnon struck his brother across the face with the back of his hand. Menelaus reeled backwards, as much with shock as with the force of the blow, and stared at Agamemnon with surprise and a burning rage. His nostrils flared and his lips curled back from his teeth, but he said nothing. The crowded kings and nobles, staring down from the tiered benches, fell silent.
‘Fortunately for him,’ Agamemnon continued, turning to face the council, ‘a sacred oath was taken to protect Helen and her husband from any who would try to come between them. You took that oath! That’s why you’ve come here to Aulis, because not one of you would dare to offend the gods before whom you gave your word. So, as I very much doubt the honour of Greece, the threat of Troy and the prospect of plunder are enough to ensure your support for war, I call upon you to honour the oath you swore. Stand, damn it, and put your hands on your hearts if you mean to sail with us. Or if you haven’t the guts to fight but would rather face the persecution of the gods, then leave now – through those ancient stones that mark the sacred nature of this place – so that we can all look upon your shame as you go!’