The Thieves, the Deceivers and the Sowers of Discord

Thwarted by the trickery at which Hell's minions are so adept, Virgil and Dante struggle up the vast escarpment which leads forth to the seventh of the Rotten Pockets of the penultimate Circle of Hell (for the previous instalment in this saga, please click here). Drained to exhaustion by the journey, it is with tremendous effort that the two poets drag themselves to the towering crest. After a few words of encouragement from Virgil, with one last heave, Dante clears the summit and finds himself on a slender bridge over a vast gorge, its inky blackness hiding all but faint cries emanating from the blackened depths.

The Thieves
Engraving by Gustave Doré

Overcome with curiosity, Dante stoops, desperate to catch word of the voices far below. But it is in vain, all he can discern is that whoever it is that speaks must be running swiftly. Turning to his master, he begs to know, and the two descend into the murky pit. Coming to the edge of a steep bank, a hideous sight greets their eyes. The souls of sinners, naked and terrified, run across the valley floor, desperate to seek cover which is not there. For the ground is coated in the writhing coils of countless serpents, some far mightier in size than any snake which makes the Earth above its home. The hands of many are bound in the serpentine coils, and yet more are wrapped around their limbs. Just then, the figure of a man sprints past our poets in fear, as a snake rears its great head, its eyes fixed upon him. In a flash as though of lightning, the serpent lunges, its aim true as it strikes the man, murderous fangs piercing his neck. Another flash, and the sinner erupts in flames, a heap of crumbling ash left in his wake. As though a phoenix, soon the man rises anew from the ashes. Sensing Dante's bewilderment, Virgil calls out to the soul, questioning him as to his presence here. "Not too long ago I rained from Tuscany", the man replies, a man named Vanni Fucci, who once stole from the sacristy of Pistoia. Bitter and angry at his fate, Fucci rises up and curses God, but briefly, as a swarm of spitting snakes descends upon him, binding him so tightly that not a muscle can move. Alerted to the blasphemy within his domain, a fierce monster gallops towards them, a raging centaur, his back alive with serpents. Virgil turns to Dante and declares the creature to be Cacus, the famous giant who in the most ancient times once prowled the Aventine Hill, one of the Seven great Hills of that would one day give birth to Rome. Having once stolen a herd of precious cattle, Cacus was slain by Heracles, another foul beast conquered underneath that club. Now he rules over the thieves in Hell.


Three tortured souls suddenly see our two poets looking down upon them. "Who are you two?" one calls out to them. But the spirit pays dearly for his moment's distraction. A colossal snake pounces upon him, binding him in six coils. With a pitiful whimper, the sinner's flesh begins to melt, and the serpent and the man soon become as one, fused into a hideous chimaera. Moaning softly, the soul ambles off into the blackness. The second accursed man is soon seized by another creature, and the man transforms into the snake, and the snake to he. Wisely, the third man flees in fear, destined to continue this deadly game for eternity. For herein lies the true horror of the plight of thieves in Hell. Just as they stole the material things of men in life, now their very identity is taken from them in Hell.

The Deceivers
Engraving by Gustave Doré

Hurrying along the Rotten Pocket, Dante bemoans the sheer number of Florentines he has seen here in Hell. Arriving at the crest of a new valley, our pilgrims look down into the eighth of the Rotten Pockets of the Eighth Circle of Hell. Suddenly reminded of the fireflies rising to the night sky, Dante looks down into the abyss. For this valley is not shrouded in blackness, but shimmers brightly with many brilliant flames. Each flame blusters about the pit, blazing brightly, too brightly to reveal what each holds inside. Virgil turns to his protégé and explains the sorry fortunes of this place, for within each burning conflagration is bound a soul, each swathed in fiery doom. Suddenly spotting a flame with two heads, our inquisitive poet asks what is behind this peculiar fate. Within this flame, Virgil explains, are bound Ulysses (Odysseus) and Diomedes, two great heroes from ancient times, who now suffer jointly in Hell (for the feats of Diomedes, please click here). Both men conceived the trick that spelled the doom for proud Troy. Spurning the valour of arms on the open field, cunning Ulysses and powerful Diomedes turned to malicious fraud to achieve their victory, a sin for which they now burn in Hell. Dante yearns to speak to the heroes of yore, but Virgil intercedes. These men hail from an era long gone, an era which Virgil himself once saw in life, and only he may commune with them. The blazing flame approaches, and the higher of its two peaks flickers, and begins to speak. The voice is that of Ulysses, and the hero tells the tale of his last great voyage over the sea, far beyond the boundaries of the known world. Eager to seek what lay beyond the Western Ocean, his crew rowed for five days and nights, until a fell tempest blasted their ship upon the slopes of Mount Purgatory. Ulysses is overcome by grief at his memories, as another flame approaches.


Recognising the accent of Lombardy which Virgil speaks so well, the flame begs to know of the plight of Romagna, is it in peace or war?  This time, Virgil encourages Dante to speak, proficient in the Italian tongue as he is. For the flame chains within the soul of Guido da Montefeltro, once a great Lord of Urbino and warrior to the Pope. Romagna is still the prey to the savages of war, Dante sadly informs him, as Ravenna's land still seeks peace. Dante asks Guido if he will tell him his story in return. The soul mournfully declares that if he thought Dante had any chance of returning to the land of the living, he would not, but since all who enter Hell never leave, he will do so this once. With bitter fury, Guido reveals that he would have joined the heavenly host, pious friar and loyal defender as he was, but for the machinations of Pope Boniface VIII, whose name he curses in Hell. As the Pope once warred with Palestrina seemingly without end, Guido had advised him to offer amnesty, and then renege upon it after the surrender. The stratagem worked, and the fortress fell, as the papal troops razed it to the ground. Horrified at the slaughter, Guido entered the order of St Francis of Assisi, becoming a devout Franciscan. As the years took their toll, and the spirit of Guido left his body, St Francis came for him, but woe! A cruel cherub of Hell got there first, and dragged him to the fiery depths. For here are punished those who received the gifts of wisdom, but use them for malicious ends, a fate Dante feels great sorrow for. But the hour grows late once more, and our two poets make for the penultimate Rotten pocket of the Eighth Circle of Hell:


                         " Who could, even in the simplest kind of prose
                                   describe in full the scene of blood and wounds
                                   that I saw now - no matter how he tried!
             
                           Certainly any tongue would have to fail:
                                   man's memory and man's vocabulary
                                   are not enough to comprehend such pain. "
                                                        - THE SOWERS OF DISCORD

The Sowers of Discord
Engraving by Gustave Doré

With a shudder of nausea at the grotesque sight before him, Dante reasons that if all the slain from battles past, from wars waged on Italy's fertile plains, were piled high, the sight would be nothing compared with this. For the souls of the damned here have a terrible fate, as their corporeal forms are ripped asunder. As the souls run in chaos and agony, there stand above them horned daemons, each rending flesh with a violent swipe of their cruel blades. Before Dante's very eyes, one soul desperately sprints past, fleeing a daemon behind. But alas, another in front slices him open, spilling his guts onto the filthy floor. As Dante looks upon the man in pity, the soul looks up and the two gaze upon each other. He reveals himself to be Muhammed, the prophet of Islam, deformed and torn in this cruel land. Before him flees Ali, his son-in-law, fleeing the murderous blades. Muhammed explains that all here were condemned to this realm for spreading discord and schism in life (Dante viewed Islam as itself a breakaway faith of Christianity, and condemns Ali for his division of Islam into the Sunni and Shi'a sects). Just as they tore apart societies in life, now they are themselves torn asunder in Hell. Each soul runs a deadly circuit through the Pocket, their wounds slowly healing, only for them to be ripped open once again when they reach the beginning. Muhammed warns Dante of the others still alive on Earth that they are heading for a similar fate, the heretical preacher Fra Dolcino being one of them. The deadly guardians closing in, Muhammed takes flight once again. More shouts, and more souls thunder by, many of them Italians. Gaius Scribonius Curio, the man who advised Julius Caesar to cross the Rubicon and make war on Rome, approaches, though he is mute, for a vengeful daemon has severed his tongue. Another soul, headless, bearing its severed head as though a lantern, calls out to them, daring them to look on at his "monstrous punishment". The decapitated man reveals that he was once Bertran de Born, the man who encouraged the young Prince Henry to raise arms against his own father, King Henry II of England.

Despairing, Dante wonders how many more people he will see in Hell that he recognises. As the two poets begin their journey to the final Rotten Pocket, Dante is left pondering, what dread fate awaits those condemned to the very bottom of Hell, and what manner of crime will earn a being a place there?

United Kingdom

Penguin Classics:
Dante: Inferno (Penguin Classics)
(A nice version which has both the Italian and English text)

Oxford World's Classics:
The Divine Comedy (Oxford World's Classics)
(Well annotated and readily accessible, including the entire Divine Comedy)

United States

Penguin Classics:
The Divine Comedy: Volume 1: Inferno (Penguin Classics) (Pt. 1)
(A nice version which has both the Italian and English text)

Oxford World's Classics:
The Divine Comedy (Oxford World's Classics)
(Well annotated and readily accessible, including the entire Divine Comedy)

Bird, Bull and Mare

Heracles was well on his way to proving himself more than just a man when he had completed his fifth gruelling task, his Fifth Labour. Desperate to earn forgiveness, he had slain the Nemean Lion, the Lernaean Hydra, captured the swift Ceryneian Hind and the fierce Erymanthian Boar, and cleaned the ghastly stables of King Augeias (for the previous episode, click here). But, to his anguish, the slaying of the Hydra and the cleaning of the stables had been rendered void by King Eurystheus, on account of the help and payment Heracles had received, though in reality an expression of Eurystheus' envy of the hero's prowess.

Lake Stymphalis

Photograph taken by Ulrich Tichy.

Heracles was furious, believing himself to be halfway to the Tenth Labour, finding he still had another seven to go. But there was little time to spare. Much needed to be done. Fresh reports reached the towering citadel of Tiryns of foul creatures of the abyss terrorising the peoples of Greece. King Eurystheus ordered the son of Zeus to set off for the Lake by the city of Stymphalos, not far away on Arcadia, and kill the birds which had taken up residence there. Believing this a strangely easy sounding task, Heracles set off from mighty Tiryns, soon arriving at Lake Stymphalis. Hearing reports that the birds lurked within a great forest by the water's edge, the hero made ready to slay them. However, these were no ordinary birds. For the Stymphalian Birds were sacred to Ares, the god of war, and were fierce creatures. Possessing beaks and talons made of solid bronze, the Stymphalian Birds were flesh eaters, and their droppings were also toxic to living things. The Birds had been terrorising the people of Stymphalos, decimating their cattle, and feasting on its citizens. Furthermore, the Birds roosted within a swamp, which Heracles soon discovered would not support his weight. Just as Heracles began to think the task impossible, the goddess Athena came before him, taking pity on his plight. Giving him a strange kind of rattle, forged by the god Hephaestus himself, the goddess of wisdom told the hero of another of the Birds' many features - they had extremely sensitive hearing. As the goddess departed, Heracles formed a daring plan. The next dawn, the hero climbed a mountain by the Lake and strung his bow. Taking up the castanet, Heracles rattled it with all his strength, creating a thunderous racket. Screeching in agony, the Stymphalian Birds took flight, right into Heracles' sights. Loosing his arrows, tainted as they were with the fiery poison of the Hydra, Heracles soon brought the Birds down. Delighted, Heracles returned to Tiryns, and was careful not to mention his divine assistance this time.

Heracles and the Cretan Bull

Mosaic in the National Archaeological Museum of Spain, Madrid.

Irate once again that Heracles still lived, Eurystheus decided against ordering the hero to slay the next beast, but to drag it all the way to Tiryns before him. Sending Heracles to the domain of King Minos away on the Isle of Crete, Eurystheus commanded him to bring to him the monstrous Cretan Bull. Once again, Heracles set forth from Tiryns, crossing the Ocean to Crete. King Minos received Heracles eagerly, for the Cretan Bull was ravaging the countryside, laying waste to all in its path. The Bull, it transpired, was the divine retribution exacted upon the King for his blasphemy. Some time before, King Minos, thrilled with his domains and grateful to the gods for their blessings, vowed to sacrifice whatever creature should come from the sea to Poseidon, lord of the Oceans. Hearing this vow, Poseidon sent forth from the depths of the Ocean a mighty white Bull. Utterly bemused at the sight of the Bull breaking from the surf, Minos was stunned by the beauty and elegance of the docile and noble creature. So entranced was he, the King forgot his promise to Poseidon, and sent it to join the rest of his many herds on the island, sacrificing another, lesser beast in its place. But Poseidon was angered that Minos had broken his oath. Moving his hand over the Bull, the god sent a consuming madness into the mind of the Bull, causing it to thrash in a beserk rage. Pleading with Heracles to aid him, Minos offered all the support the hero might need. Heracles declined, vowing to take the Bull alone, lest he once again rail in failure on his return. Confronting the mighty Bull in the mountains of Crete, Heracles wrestled the monster. Man and beast struggling for an age, Heracles at last managed to get a hold on one of the Bull's horns, and its jaw. Grappling with the beast all the way to the shore, Minos looked on, rejoicing at the hero's great strength. Restraining the creature on his ship, Heracles herded the Cretan Bull all the way to the Palace at Tiryns, where Eurystheus capitulated and declared the Labour a success. The Labour complete, Heracles released the Bull, which charged off into the countryside, eventually coming to the land of Attica, terrorising its peoples around Marathon. But the arrogance of the Athenians was something all other Greeks gladly saw punished, and Eurystheus was content. Indeed the Cretan Bull would one day father the Minotaur, the bane of the Athenians...

The Mares devour Diomedes

Painting by Gustave Moreau.

For his next task, King Eurystheus bade Heracles go forth and bring to him the Mares of King Diomedes of the Bistones. Since the Bistones were a highly aggressive Thracian tribe, Eurystheus did allow Heracles to take a company of armed men with him this time, as long as the hero simply brought back the horses. Thinking this oddly reasonable, Heracles once again left mighty walled Tiryns, venturing north to the wild lands of Thrace. Ambushed almost immediately, Heracles and his warriors were caught unawares. Fierce though the Bistones were, the Mares they rode were towering creatures, powerful and strong. With the might of Heracles' strength, however, the hero and his companions managed to repel them, just. Coming across the mangers where the Mares were tethered, Heracles and his good friend Abderus overpowered the guards and led the Mares back toward the coast. The Bistones, however, soon discovered the theft, and set off in hot pursuit. Leaving Abderus to guard the Mares, Heracles charged the warriors, who were now led by their fearsome King, Diomedes, the son of Ares himself. Fierce though the Bistones were, the son of Zeus threw them back again and again, until only he and the towering King were left. After a titanic struggle, Heracles made a prisoner of Diomedes, deciding to lead him back to Eurystheus too, as an added gift. However, coming back to the Mares, he saw the animals standing there, but Abderus was nowhere to be seen. Spotting that the mouths of the Mares were spattered with blood, and a few crunched bones at their feet, however, Heracles suddenly realised a terrible truth of the Mares which Eurystheus had neglected to mention. The Mares were carnivorous. Driven into a rage with grief, Heracles hurled Diomedes at the Mares, who proceeded to devour their master. Only when sated with human flesh were the beasts calm once again. Seizing his chance, Heracles tied the strongest bonds around their jaws, binding them tightly shut.

Leading them all the way back to strong walled Tiryns, Heracles presented the beasts to Eurystheus. Impressed, Eurystheus agreed that Heracles had completed his Labour fairly, and offered the Mares as a sacrifice to Hera. Realising that Heracles was more than a man, the King, knowing he had only four Labours left to give, began to conceive ever more daring tasks for the son of Zeus...

United Kingdom

The Library of Greek Mythology:

The Library of Greek Mythology (Oxford World's Classics)

(A vast collection of stories from old Greece, written and compiled in ancient times)

United States

The Library of Greek Mythology:

The Library of Greek Mythology (Oxford World's Classics)

(A vast collection of stories from old Greece, written and compiled in ancient times)

The Shield of Achilles

So long as Greece’s finest champion, the favoured Achilles, nursed his wounded pride by the proud Achaean ships, the Trojan War slipped ever close to victory for the mighty city (For background to this, click here). With Zeus the Thunderer himself favouring Priam’s sons, Hector routs battalion after battalion of the Greek armies, throwing Achaea’s finest back against the ships themselves. Not even towering Ajax, cunning Odysseus, powerful Diomedes or Menelaus of the loud war cry could face the godlike Prince of Troy. Hector even manages to set the first Achaean ship ablaze, causing Patrocles, Achilles’ cousin and greatest friend from home, to beg Achilles to allow him to fight. Achilles relents, but commands strictly that he is to return when the Trojans have been pushed back from the ships. Patroclus takes the great warrior’s armour, and leads the Myrmidons against Prince Hector, setting into motion a chain of events which will spell doom for Priam’s citadel...

Patroclus cuts a bloody swathe through the Trojan ranks aboard his great chariot, and the tide of war begins once again to swing in Achaea’s favour. Fleeing in terror before what appeared to be Achilles himself, the Trojans are thrown back to the very walls of Troy itself. Forgetting Achilles’ dire warning not to go beyond the ships, Patroclus soon finds himself faced by Hector himself. This time however, the gods are decided. It is not Hector’s time. So, at the height of his prowess, and with Greeks clamouring for Trojan blood at the walls themselves:

Achilles mourns over the body of Patroclus
Painting by Nikolaj Nikolajewitsch Ge.

“ Death cut him short. The end closed in around him.

Flying free of his limbs,

His soul went winging down to the House of Death,

Wailing his fate, leaving his manhood far behind,

His young and supple strength. ”

       - THE DEATH OF PATROCLUS

A ripple of foreboding tears through both armies. Both sides fight for the body of the young boy, and many times it changes hands. At last, Menelaus manages to bear the corpse away from the fighting, while Hector and Aeneas break the Achaean lines once more. With Greeks fleeing in terror, Menelaus desperately tells a messenger, Antilochus, to send word to Achilles of the fate of his cousin, hoping at last he will be persuaded to rejoin the fighting. With trepidation, Antilochus approaches Achilles’ tent and finds him sitting by the shore. “Patroclus has fallen! They’re fighting over his corpse! He’s stripped, naked – Hector with that flashing helmet, Hector has your arms!”. A black cloud of agony swirls over Achilles, as he lies, broken with grief and rage. He smears dirt and ashes over his fine clothes and writhes in the dust. The women wail with sorrow, as the great runner begins to weep. But then Thetis, the nymph whose son Achilles was, looked down in pity:

                        “ I am agony – mother of grief and greatness – O my child!

                          Yes, I gave birth to a flawless, mighty son...

                          The splendour of heroes, and he shot up like a young branch,

                          Like a fine tree I reared him – the orchard’s crowning glory –

                          But only to send him off in the beaked ships to Troy! ”

                                                 - THETIS BEMOANS THE FATE OF ACHILLES

Thetis pleads to him to leave the war behind, knowing in vain that it is the fate of her son to die at Troy. But her words fall on deaf ears, as Achilles cares not whether he too is to be hurled to the House of Death, so long as he first stains the lands with Hector’s blood. Resigned to the inevitable, Thetis resolves to go to Hephaestus, the god of fire and the Smith, to forge for her son a mighty new suit of armour, one worthy of a demigod, one greater by far than the gear which Hector now bears. Soaring to the Olympian heights, Thetis throws herself at the feet of the god, and pleads for help. Remembering her kindness to him in ages past, when all other gods spurned him for his lameness, Hephaestus vows to craft the mightiest apparel a god ever made for a mortal. What follows is, in my own opinion, one of the finest passages in literature, as Hephaestus forges the Shield of Achilles. Turning his bellows on the fire, crucibles burning to the god of fire’s wishes, Hephaestus takes his great hammer in one hand and with the other grips the metal with his tongs. Laying down five layers of metal, emblazoned with finely crafted emblems, Hephaestus employs all his craft and cunning as he turns to forging the vast expanse of the Shield:

Hephaestus
Painting by Rubens.

“ There he made the earth and there the sky and the sea

   And the ever burning sun and the moon rounding full

   And there the constellations, all that crown the heavens,

   The Pleiades and the Hyades, Orion in all his power too

   And the Great Bear that mankind calls the Wagon:

   She ever wheels on her axis, watching the Hunter,

   And she alone is denied a plunge in the Ocean’s baths. ”

                      - HEPHAESTUS LAYS OUT THE SHIELD

But the god does not stop there. On the shield he then forged two great cities filled with mortal men and women. There are weddings and feasts in one of these cities, and with torches brides are brought forth, marching through the streets, as the choirs sing. Young men are dancing in the street, some playing flutes and harps. The god’s hammer brings forth the people massing in the streets to see the procession. In one place, a quarrel has broken out, and two men are fighting. The crowd around them is cheering them on.



Hephaestus presents his mighty gifts to Thetis
Painting by Sir James Thornhill.



But the god does not stop there. Surrounding the other city, a divided army has set up camp, one side arguing whether to plunder the city or share the riches with the people. Within the citadel untold riches bound, and the people within do not surrender. Hephaestus’ toil carves the image of a raid, as the people hope to break the siege, with wives and children cheering them on from the towering ramparts. Ares and Athena lead them on in war, magnificent in their armour. Spying the enemy's flocks of livestock, the besieged try to take them, but the besiegers spot their ploy and ride to the rescue, and both sides hurl their spears, as Strife, Havoc and Death plunge into the field of war.

Thetis bears the magnificent gifts to Achilles
Painting by Benjamin West.

But the god does not stop there. He forges the image of a fallow field, and broad rich plowlands, as teams drive their cattle through. When they reach the boundary of the field, they pour a libation to the gods on high. It was an image forged in solid gold, “such was the wonder of Hephaestus’ work”. A king’s estate next emerges from the metal, where labourers harvest, reaping the grain as young boys pile up the scythed sheaves. The king in the centre, marvelling at the work. Next a thriving vineyard with endless grapes and climbing vines, all awaiting the hands of the workers, who place them in wicker baskets. The workers toil on, as a young boy plucks a lyre, serenading them with song. Next a herd of longhorn cattle, rumbling out of a farmyard along some rippling stream. Nine dogs accompany them, while a pair of lions seize a bull from the front ranks and drag him off in agony. The herdsman yells to his dogs, but to no avail. The crippled god of the Smith then forged a great meadow in a shaded glen, where dwell flocks of sheep and shepherd’s huts. Round the edge of the indestructible Shield, the god forged the Ocean River in its boundless power. His godly work near complete, he creates a breastplate brighter than fire, and a helmet perfectly aligned to Achilles’ temples.

Hephaestus lays the magnificent gear at the feet of Thetis, who loses no time in flashing back down to her son, bearing the most splendid gifts of the god of fire, the final act of the Siege of Troy about to begin...

As the first and arguably greatest work of poetry in the West, The Iliad deserves a place in the bookshelves of us all. The Shield of Achilles, whose description takes up Book Eighteen of The Iliad, is in my opinion one of the finest pieces of literature ever written, and is more than worth reading. The whole work is available very easily and at a low price from Amazon:

United Kingdom

Penguin Classics:
The Iliad (Penguin Classics)
(A translation which retains much of the poetic meter, my personal recommendation)

Oxford World's Classics:
The Iliad (Oxford World's Classics)
(A translation which omits some of the epithets in favour of 'easier' reading for the casual reader)

United States

Penguin Classics:
The Iliad (Penguin Classics)
(A translation which retains much of the poetic meter, my personal recommendation)

Oxford World's Classics:
The Iliad (Oxford World's Classics)
(A translation which omits some of the epithets in favour of 'easier' reading for the casual reader)

The Olympian Gods in Arms

The Trojan War, even three thousand years after the great city lay in smoking ruins, remains the most famous war in history. This war was the baptism of Achilles, arguably the greatest warrior ever born, a hero even in his own short lifetime, who commanded the favour of the mightiest gods of Olympus. Where Achilles charged, his enemies fled. When roused to war, when the thrill of battle had taken hold, he was unstoppable. Countless cities fell to his wrath and the prowess of the Myrmidons, the finest soldiers in Greece who bowed only to the great warrior. Homer’s great poem, The Iliad, granted Achilles the immortality that he so yearned, fusing his legend into the memory of man for eternity. The Trojan War, however, was as much a struggle amongst the gods as it was a war of men. 

           

         “Sing Goddess of the rage, sing of the rage of Peleus’ son Achilles,

     Murderous, doomed, that cost the Achaeans countless losses,

  Hurling down to the House of Death so many sturdy souls,”

                                                                                    - HOMER OPENS HIS GREAT STORY

Thetis, the mother of Achilles, pleads with Zeus
to avenge her son's humiliation
Painting by Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres.

So begins Homer’s great epic. Like many great heroes of legend, Achilles was as proud as he was relentless. It is indeed Achilles’ pride and his eventual salvation which form the essence of The Iliad’s greatness. When Apollo (god of the Sun, truth, archery, healing and disease) looses his deadly arrows upon the Achaean (Homer’s term to encompass all the Greeks at Troy) camp, a great plague strikes the Greeks. Agamemnon, King of Mycenae and High King of all the Greeks, consults an Oracle as to the origin of Apollo’s anger. The Oracle tells the High King that Apollo is enraged that Agamemnon has taken a girl, Chryseis as his slave. Chryseis’ father was a priest of Apollo in a city that the Achaeans had sacked earlier, and pleaded to Apollo for her return. Humiliated, Agamemnon releases the girl. At the sack of that city however, Achilles had acquired a woman, Briseis, as part of his war spoils. Agamemnon decided to steal Briseis for himself, and orders Achilles to yield. But the proud Achilles was angered. Indeed, Achilles would have thrust his sword into the High King, had not Athena (goddess of wisdom and strategy), come down from Olympus and stayed his hand. Humiliated in front of the whole Greek force, Achilles withdraws from the war, leaving the Greeks to fend for themselves against the onslaught of the Trojan Prince Hector, greatest of the fifty sons of Priam – King of Troy.

Untold thousands fall on the Achaean and Trojan sides, including many great heroes, as Achilles nursed his wounded pride. Olympus itself was divided, Zeus favoured the Trojans (yet had ordained that the Achaeans would eventually triumph), so too did Ares (the god of war), Apollo and Aphrodite (the goddess of lust). Spearheading the Greek cause were Athena and Hera (Queen of the gods) and at times, Poseidon (the god of the sea). Many of the heroes on both sides were themselves of divine descent. Hector was descended, through Priam, from Zeus himself. Aeneas (who would one day become the progenitor of the Roman race) was the son of Aphrodite, as well as being of Trojan royal lineage and a relative of Hector. Diomedes, a mighty Greek hero second in war only to Achilles himself, was the nephew of Heracles. Sarpedon, one of the mightiest Trojan heroes, was the son of Zeus. Many times the gods intervened in battle to spare their kin, or as in the case of Ares, partake in the war for love of slaughter.

With the absence of Achilles, the Achaean ranks buckled under the Trojan assault, led by the godlike Prince of Troy and the god of war himself. Pitying the Greek cause, Athena granted her blessing to the towering Diomedes, of the line of Tydeus and King of Argos;

            “She set the man ablaze, his shield and helmet flaming

          With tireless fire like the star that flames at harvest,

                     Bathed in the Ocean, rising up to outshine all other stars.”

                                                               - ATHENA BLESSES DIOMEDES

The formidable champion tore through the Trojan ranks, as captain after captain, soldier after soldier, all fell to Diomedes' rage. Spotting Aeneas, Diomedes bellowed his war cry and:

Diomedes wounds Aphrodite
Painting by Arthur Fitger.

“Hefted a boulder in his hands, a tremendous feat-

No two men could lift it, weak as men are now,

But all on his own he raised it high with ease,   

Flung it and struck Aeneas’ thigh where the hipbone

Turns inside the pelvis, the joint they call the cup…”     

    - DIOMEDES STRIKES DOWN AENEAS

There and then, Aeneas would have been slain, had Aphrodite not raced down from Olympus’ heights and taken her son to safety. Guided on by Athena’s hand, Diomedes then dared to strike a god. Taunting the weak goddess, Diomedes thrust his great spear through Aphrodite’s wrist. With a cry of pain, she dropped her son and limped back to Olympus, as Apollo bore Aeneas to safety. Enraged, Diomedes charged the Archer god:

            “Three times he charged, frenzied to bring him down,

                 Three times Apollo battered his gleaming shield back…

‘Think Diomedes, shrink back now!                         

Enough of this madness – striving with the gods.     

We are not of the same breed, we never will be,     

the deathless gods and men who walk the earth’.”  

                                       - DIOMEDES ENGAGES THE SUN GOD

Away from the fighting Apollo swept the wounded Aeneas, and he called on Ares to staunch Diomedes’ wrath. A Trojan arrow struck Achaea's champion, yet the hero fought on, sending many a Trojan to Hades’ Halls.

Then, appearing from afar, Diomedes laid eyes on Ares himself, who lead the Trojan charge. The Achaeans fell in droves at Ares’ spear, and a ripple of fear spread through the Greek ranks. Hera implored Zeus to halt the slaughter, and so the Thunderer sent forth his daughter Athena. Even great Diomedes baulked at facing such a foe, until Athena’s blessing came forth and brought courage anew. Athena mounted his chariot and ordered Diomedes to advance. Few men would dare to face a god, yet now a mortal man and the god of war himself took arms upon each other:

            “The two of them closing fast, charging face to face,

                  And the god thrust first, over Tydides’ yoke and reins,

            With bronze spear burning to take the fighter’s life”

                                             - ARES CHARGES DIOMEDES

Yet one’s chance of survival is often aided when one has the favour of a goddess. Athena deflected the blow and hurled Ares’ spear aside. Diomedes yelled his war cry, and Athena guided his hand:

“Lunging out with his own bronze spear and Pallas rammed it home,

Deep in Ares’ bowels where the belt cinched him tight.                 

There Diomedes aimed and stabbed, he gouged him down             

his glistening flesh and wrenched the spear back out                      

and the brazen god of war let loose a shriek, roaring,                     

thundering loud as nine, ten thousand soldiers                                

shriek with Ares’ combat fury when massive armies clash.             

A shudder swept all ranks, Trojans and Argives both,                    

Terror-struck by the shriek the god let loose,                                

Ares whose lust for slaughter never dies...”                                   

                                                - DIOMEDES WOUNDS THE GOD OF WAR

Ares - The Lord of War
Roman copy of a Greek original.

The lord of war tore back to Olympus’ heights, for a god cannot die. The balance of war restored, triumphant Athena followed. But the Prince of Troy still stood, and routed battalion after battalion of Achaea’s finest. Not even the great Diomedes, towering Ajax or cunning Odysseus could face the son of Priam down.  The War of Troy, it seemed, lay in Trojan hands...

The Iliad is the cornerstone of Western literature. All Greeks looked back to Troy. In the same way that the English may think of King Arthur, this was the foundation of Greece. It united the people in a time when civil war was rife and men fought for cities not nations. One day, the descendants of Aeneas would found a small settlement on the banks of a river called the Tiber, a settlement to which the known world would one day bow...

The Iliad is the first and greatest work of epic literature. I will look in future posts at other memorable episodes of this great story. I thoroughly recommend that it be amongst your book collection, it really is a masterpiece of literature. It is available very easily from Amazon:

United Kingdom

Penguin Classics:
The Iliad (Penguin Classics)
(A translation which retains much of the poetic meter, my personal recommendation)

Oxford World's Classics:
The Iliad (Oxford World's Classics)
(A translation which omits some of the epithets in favour of 'easier' reading for the casual reader)

United States

Penguin Classics:
The Iliad (Penguin Classics)
(A translation which retains much of the poetic meter, my personal recommendation)

Oxford World's Classics:
The Iliad (Oxford World's Classics)
(A translation which omits some of the epithets in favour of 'easier' reading for the casual reader)