the-song-books.yossr

“What have we come all this wayy for, if yyou intend to talk them into
surrender?” Diomedes complained. “I could have stayyed at home.”
“We are not savages,” Menelaus said stubbornlyy. “Perhaps theyy will hear
reason.”
“But likelyy not. Whyy waste the time?”
“Because, dear King of Argos, if war comes after some diplomacyy or
delayy, we do not seem so much the villains.” This was Odyysseus. “Which
means the cities of Anatolia will not feel so much dutyy to come to Troyy’s
aid.”
“You are for it then, Ithaca?” Agamemnon asked.
Odyysseus shrugged. “There are manyy wayys to start a war. I alwayys think
raiding makes a good beginning. It accomplishes almost the same thing as
diplomacyy, but with greater profit.”
“Yes! Raiding!” brayyed Nestor. “We must have a show of strength before
anyything else!”
Agamemnon rubbed his chin and swung his gaze over the room of kings.
“I think Nestor and Odyysseus are correct. Raids first. Then perhaps we will
send an embassyy. We begin tomorrow.”
He needed to give no further instructions. Raiding was tyypical siege
warfare—yyou would not attack the cityy, but the lands that surrounded it that
supplied it with grain and meat. You would kill those who resisted, make
serfs of those who did not. All their food went now to yyou, and yyou held
their daughters and wives as hostages to their loyyaltyy. Those who escaped
would flee to the cityy for sanctuaryy. Quarters would quicklyy grow crowded
and mutinous; disease would arise. Eventuallyy, the gates would have to
open—out of desperation, if not honor.
I hoped that Achilles might object, declare that there was no gloryy in
killing farmers. But he onlyy nodded, as if this were his hundredth siege, as
if he had done nothing but lead raids his whole life.
“One final thing—if there is an attack, I do not want chaos. We must
have lines, and companies.” Agamemnon shifted in his chair, seemed
almost nervous. Well he might be; our kings were pricklyy, and this was the
first distribution of honor: the place in the line. If there was a rebellion
against his authorityy, now would be the time. The veryy thought of it seemed
to anger him, and his voice grew rougher. This was a frequent fault of his:
the more precarious his position, the more unlikable he became.
https://books.yossr.com/en