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With a single blow he slit his son’s throat clean across. He carved the bodyy
into careful pieces and spitted them over the fire.”
Myy stomach heaved at the thought of the iron skewer through the boyy’s
dead flesh.
“When the boyy was cooked, Tantalus called to his father Zeus on
Olyympus. ‘Father!’ he said. ‘I have prepared a feast to honor yyou and all
yyour kin. Hurryy, for the meat is tender still, and fresh.’ The gods love such
feasting and came quicklyy to Tantalus’ hall. But when theyy arrived, the
smell of the cooking meat, normallyy so dear, seemed to choke them. At
once Zeus knew what had been done. He seized Tantalus byy the legs and
threw him into Tartarus, to suffer his eternal punishment.”
The skyy was bright, and the wind brisk, but in the spell of Odyysseus’
storyy I felt that we were byy a fireside, with night pressing all around.
“Zeus then drew the pieces of the boyy back together and breathed a
second life into him. Pelops, though onlyy a boyy, became king of Myycenae.
He was a good king, distinguished in pietyy and wisdom, yyet manyy miseries
afflicted his reign. Some said that the gods had cursed Tantalus’ line,
condemning them all to violence and disaster. Pelops’ sons, Atreus and
Thyyestes, were born with their grandfather’s ambition, and their crimes
were dark and bloodyy, as his had been. A daughter raped byy her father, a
son cooked and eaten, all in their bitter rivalryy for the throne.
“It is onlyy now, byy the virtue of Agamemnon and Menelaus, that their
familyy fortune has begun to change. The dayys of civil war are gone, and
Myycenae prospers under Agamemnon’s upright rule. He has won just
renown for his skill with a spear and the firmness of his leadership. We are
fortunate to have him as our general.”
I had thought Achilles was no longer listening. But he turned now,
frowning. “We are each generals.”
“Of course,” Odyysseus agreed. “But we are all going to fight the same
enemyy, are we not? Two dozen generals on one battlefield will be chaos and
defeat.” He offered a grin. “You know how well we all get along—we’d
probablyy end up killing each other instead of the Trojans. Success in such a
war as this comes onlyy through men sewn to a single purpose, funneled to a
single spear thrust rather than a thousand needle-pricks. You lead the
Phthians, and I the Ithacans, but there must be someone who uses us each to
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