literature

The War for Ilion- 1

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The Lost Files of Alexandria- The War for Ilion.

I. A scribe’s story.

It is under a candle’s weak light that I begin to write down this story -a light assisted by the cold rays of a winter’s full moon that invade the empty halls of the Palace’s Library, here in Alexandria.

I am alone, as I should be; for if I was among the scholars, they would probably send me on an errand to collect books from the merchant ships that dock at the harbor each day, or they’d indite me an arrogant speech to write down and store at this great Library’s countless shelves. And if they knew about what I’m going to do now, they’d probably whip my back until I fainted.

Next to my own parchments lies a copy of a great poem, a rhapsody, as my masters like to call it. It is the Iliad of Homer; the story of how the Greeks conquered the state of Ilion and sacked its capital, the fortress city of Troy. It is also the story of a war between the Gods that took place because of the events at Ilion, a war that influenced the battles of the mortal Greeks and Trojans and their allies as well.

I am not a true scholar, however, and I shall never be; having knowledge of this fact, I shall write down my version of this epic tale for simple people to hear, read and enjoy. I am sure that Homer intended for his poem to be a story that would entertain the masses and inspire courage and bravery in their hearts; to make them rejoice as they listened to the deeds of great warriors like Achilles, Hector or Ulysses and the virtues and vices of conflicting Gods such as Zeus, Hera, Athena, Aphrodite and Ares.

With the grace of those Gods that I myself believe in, Homer’s story survived by being told from mouth to mouth. The people of this epoch, however, are uneducated and cannot be easily be inspired. Knowledge is now stored in libraries and palaces for safekeeping, leaving the people that are not of the castes or do not have offices or riches, in the dark. The agorae –marketplaces- where people become wiser, hearing the speeches of philosophers, are now silent.

That should not be the way with knowledge: Knowledge is to be shared to all, not only to the select few. And it is to be shared in a way that is understood.

And it is so because the souls of all people, rich or poor, clever or idiot, good or evil deserve to be entertained and educated by such stories.

II. One apple for three Goddesses.

So the story begins with a scream in the dark.
It was Ekave, the pregnant wife of Priamus, King of Ilion and ruler of Troy, which had screamed.
She had just woken from a troubled sleep and a terrible nightmare: Ekave had seen that she had given birth to a flaming torch, its flame flaring up, consuming all Troy in terrible fire.
Priamus himself got upset when he heard of the dream, so he called for an interpreter of dreams without losing time.

Hearing of the nightmare, the oneirocritic answered that the meaning was quite clear:

“Your Queen, my King, will give birth to a son that will put Ilion in great trouble!”

“How can I prevent this from happening?” Priamus asked, worried about what he had just heard.

“There is a way for the prophecy to be undone, but it shall grieve you, my King,” the wise old man answered.

“Tell me! Don’t torture me any more with riddles!”

“As you wish. Here is what I propose to be done…”

And he told Priamus how he had to abandon the child to die at the woods near Troy as soon as it was born. That way the child wouldn’t live, and no harm would befall Ilion.

The King of Troy mourned for his unborn child, but he knew he had to do what the dream interpreter had proposed.

“Take this child,” he told one of his slaves not many days after his son’s birth. “Leave it at the forests of mount Idi! Go!”

And the slave took the child from his master’s trembling hands, and did what he had been ordered to do.

But Priamus’ unwanted son didn’t die, perhaps by pure chance (or ill fate for the people of Troy), or even because of the vicious grace of the Gods: A bear found him in the woods and kept him warm, letting him drink from her milk as her cubs did. And after some days, when the slave -feeling guilty for his act- walked the mountain again, he found the child still alive.

Oblivious of the oneirocritic’s prophecy, and believing the Gods themselves had judged that the child should live, he took the infant to his house. Calling him “Paris”, he raised it as his own with great love. And Paris grew up to become a handsome young man, strong and clever. He became a shepherd, stocking his true father’s sheep at the same mountain where he had been left to die many years ago. And he would have had a quiet, happy life, hadn’t the Fates weaved his intricate lifestrand around the affairs of the Gods.

For one day at the top of Mount Olympus, the Gods were celebrating a rare event: The marriage of a mortal to a goddess. The groom was Pileas, King of Fthia, and the bride was Thetis, daughter of Nireas, a lesser god of the sea.

All immortals had gathered at this symposium, entertaining themselves as they sat on their luxurious thrones, drinking nectar from gold cups. And Apollo’s lyre accompanied the divine songs of the Muses, making the Gods’ ears delight.

All? No, not all. All but one.

Goddess Eris, daughter of the Night, hadn’t been invited to the event, for fear that she would put the seeds of strife on the newly-wed (Because that was her nature, and that’s what she usually did: She planted strife in the hearts of men and mortals alike).

When Eris learnt of the Gods’ feast, and of the fact that she hadn’t been invited, she grew mad and swore to have her revenge for that disgrace. So, becoming invisible, she entered the Great Halls of Zeus and left a golden apple on a table, departing with a smile in her invisible face.

The apple was a treasure among the Gods themselves, coming from the Garden of Hesperides. And on it, the following had been written:

“To the prettiest Goddess.”

Three goddesses saw the apple; it had immediately caught their attention:

Hera, wife of Zeus and Queen of the Gods.

Athena, Goddess of Wisdom.

And Aphrodite, Goddess of Beauty and Love.

All three reached their hands for it. And all three, looking at each other with envy, got angry and started quarreling over the apple. All three believed it was theirs, for each one of them was sure she was the prettiest of the Goddesses.

Zeus was called to decide which of the three should have the apple, but he declined that dubious honor, proposing instead that a mortal would be a better judge of a Goddess’s beauty.

And Fate or Chance made for that mortal to be a young shepherd of Troy.

So one day, as Paris herded his flock, he saw a man and three women coming his way. All were prettier than any mortal could ever be. Paris felt that they were Gods, and bowed in reverence.

“Rise,” the male God said. It was Hermes, God of trade, commerce, and communication that was escorting the three Goddesses competing for the title of the prettiest. “Take this,” he added, giving a golden apple to the bowing shepherd, “and give it to the prettiest woman of the three!”
“Give it to me,” Hera said first,” and I’ll make you a powerful King, a ruler of many states!”

“Give the apple to me, shepherd,” Athena said then, “and I’ll make you the wisest man alive!”

“Should you give what you’re holding to me,” Aphrodite said last, “you’ll have the prettiest mortal woman ever born: Helen the Pretty, queen of Sparta in Greece!”

All three Goddesses were almost equally pretty, but only one was to be the winner of the contest. Paris was overwhelmed and confused, but had to reach a decision. And he did.

Aphrodite took the apple and smiled. She stroked Paris’s hair.

“I’ll protect you and give you some of my grace. And when the time comes, I’ll keep my promise!” she said, and vanished. And just afterwards, the other three Gods vanished too, returning to Olympus.

Paris now had two enemies. Powerful enemies.

III. A woman stolen.    

Some more time passed; Paris was now an adult, more handsome and stronger than ever before, but still a shepherd, though his flock now included sheep, bulls, cows and, of course, many dogs that were his aides in herding. One day, another slave came to him at Idi, asking for his best bull: That bull would be the prize for athletic games taking place in Troy that day. Half-hearted, Paris gave his best bull away, a beast he loved much.

Seeing the slave leave with his bull, Paris got sad, because of that love for the proud animal. Swearing to take it back, he followed the slave to Troy. Though he was a slave, he demanded to take part in the games, and his persistence persuaded the judges to let him do that. After all, they thought, he was only a slave.

But the slave that wasn’t a slave was the winner of the games that day, and the bull was again his.

Cassandra, Priamus’s daughter and a great seer of Troy watched the young man celebrating his victory beside his prize from her seat beside her father. And as she did that, the Gods bestowed her with knowledge she should never’ve had.

“Father, you see this man? See him well, by the Gods, for he is your son and my brother as well!” she told Priamus.

“Are you sure, my daughter?” Priamus asked, but his heart knew it was true. So, omitting the prophecy that had separated him from Paris the first time, Priamus embraced his son and took him to the palace. And great celebrations were held in honor of the member of the royal family that had been lost and found again.

The Fates span their wheel again then; and the thread of Paris’s life continued to weave.

Paris, now prince of Ilion, remembered a goddess’s promise as he sat at the palace’s gardens one evening.

I will have her, he promised to himself, whether Aphrodite helps me or not: Now is my great chance!

And the opportunity rose: A Trojan ship sailed for Sparta, not many days later, to negotiate commerce deals and an alliance with the Greek state. Paris was on it as Troy’s envoy, his heart beating with anticipation to see the woman he had been promised he’d have.

Reaching Githion, the port of Sparta, Paris went to the capital of the city state with the same name. Menelaus, who was king of Sparta, welcomed the Trojan delegation with great honors and hosted them in his palace. There, Paris set his eyes on Menelaus’s queen for the first time, and Aphrodite cast her spell, keeping her promise.

And Helen the Pretty, Queen of Sparta, looked back at Paris, Prince of Ilion; her heart was filled with passion for the handsome Trojan.

Blinded with godsent passion, Paris and Helen loved each other and exchanged promises of eternal love behind Menelaus’s back. And when the King of Sparta left for Crete to meet Idomeneas, King of the Minoans, Paris didn’t loiter.

Behaving without thinking of the consequences, and in a manner unworthy of his proud nation and royal lineage, the Prince of Ilion stole Helen, who followed him eagerly. And not only did he steal the Queen of Sparta, but he took the palace’s treasures with him as well, making his delegation nothing more than a band of honorless thieves.

The next day, the Aegean sun shone brightly upon a lonely ship that crossed the seas back to Troy, carrying a queen, treasures, and doom to its destination.

continued
Homer's Iliad adaptation

It was about a month ago when I happened upon a children's book -an old one- that narrated the story of Homer poem, "The Iliad". Despite the fact that it was a children book, it was remarkably well written and suitable for adults to read, though it was a bit oversimplistic.

It served its purpose, however: It inspired me to write some sort of "adaptation" of the Iliad in English for all you to read.
The reasons behind this were many: First of all, the poem itself is quite a difficult read even for the seasoned reader. Second, the "Troy" movie adaptation of the Iliad was so mediocre (in my opinion, at least) that I thought I could do something for you all who might want to read the story as Homer wrote it: With Gods intervening in the affairs of mortals, great heroes from both sides fighting for honor and glory (both were important values in that era, it seems). Third, by telling the story of the Trojan War, I felt that I can relate to the past of one of the first fantasy stories ever written and thus become better in my own writing.

I will try to remain as faithful to Homer's story as possible, and I'll try to write this in a periodical manner: My aim is to publish one chapter per week here until the whole story is complete. That way I can keep you hooked, without you getting bored or overwhelmed. The language I'm going to use will deliberately be as simple as possible: Great stories don't need complicated narration. My sources are 1) Homer's Iliad, translated in modern Greek -accompanied by the ancient text for reference- and 2) the book I mentioned: "Homer's Iliad", Classic Youth Library, "Atlantis" Press, narrated by P. Tsimikalis, 1970.

In this chapter, the reader learns of an Alexandrian scribe's attempt to tell Homer's rhapsody; of a shepherd's choice; and of a beautiful woman's love.

The thumbnail is an ancient vase depicting Paris' judgement.

N.
© 2005 - 2024 mistseeker
Comments7
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braakdown's avatar
Very nice. I agree tha you need something better than pretty, or at least some more variety. Also I saw some contractions. I'd lose them.

I like your intro, the invoking of the muse with a twist. An easy version of the myth to read, but it seems to retain all the important parts. The stealing of the treasure from Troy is interesting. I think that gets left out a lot.

I always liked this story, because it's a bit unclear which of these two, Troy or Greece, is the "bad guy." And who's the hero, Hector or Achilles?

Anyway, I'll get to more chapters of this. A good start.