Heroes

He announced himself to the camp sentinels. One of them ran to advise the king that Anchialus, son of Iasus, a comrade of King Diomedes, had come to speak with him. Pyrrhus had him brought to his tent at once.

A wispy beard barely covered his cheeks, his hair was cut above his ears, and he had an incredibly powerful build for a boy his age. Anchialus had seen him on rare occasions, always at a distance and always flanked by two huge Myrmidons, Periphantes and Automedon. When his eyes had adjusted to the gloom in the tent, with a mere lantern to light it, Anchialus saw that Pyrrhus wore the armour of his father. His first suit of armour, the one that Patroclus had worn to trick the Trojans into believing he was Achilles and drive them from the Achaean camp; the armour that Hector had stripped from Patroclus’s body, and that Achilles had won back by slaying Hector. The other suit of armour, the one that Hephaestus had forged for Achilles’s last battle, had gone to Ulysses.

‘You wear the armour of your father,’ said Anchialus, gazing at the shield adorned with silver stars. ‘How often I saw it shine on the chariot drawn by Balius and Xanthus! We Argives were usually lined up alongside the Myrmidons.’ The youth seemed not to hear his words.

‘Why did you ask to speak with me?’ asked Pyrrhus, eyeing the guest with diffidence.

‘Oh wanax,’ began Anchialus, ‘my lord Diomedes, king of Argos. .’

‘King of nothing!’ snapped the son of Achilles. Anchialus stiffened, wounded by his insult. ‘King of nothing,’ repeated Pyrrhus, his voice dropping, ‘like me. .’

Anchialus understood. ‘Do not say this, wanax. You reign over the Epirotes and Diomedes will soon have a great kingdom in the land of Hesperia, and I will join him there.’

‘Diomedes was forced to flee, as was I. Thessaly is my kingdom, the Myrmidons are my people, my palace stands in Phthia, and yet I must live in these mountains in the midst of savages in a pathetic dwelling that I conquered without glory.’

‘But I have heard that your grandfather, old Peleus, is still alive. How is it possible that you no longer live in your palace, enjoying your privileges? Has an enemy killed Peleus, perhaps, and driven you out?’

‘No enemy,’ said Pyrrhus. ‘There is no enemy capable of driving me out. Only my own grandfather could do so. Peleus would not have me. One cannot fight such an enemy, but only flee. I fled my grandfather.’

Anchialus fell into silence, but his desire to know what had happened prompted him to speak. He said, ‘Wanax, pardon my boldness. Why did Peleus not keep you with him?’

‘He doesn’t like me. He’s an old man and he thinks like an old man. “Why did you kill the old defenceless king,” he said, “who your father Achilles had spared thinking of my white hair? Why did you kill the little prince, smashing him on to the rocks below? Why did you force his mother to lie with you after obliging her to witness such horror?” They’d told him everything, understand? He already knew everything. I swear that if I knew who it was I’d strangle him with my bare hands. I would rip out his eyes and his tongue and feed them to my dog.’

Anchialus was quiet, not knowing what to say.

‘But there was something you wanted to tell me,’ said the youth then. ‘Where do you come from? How did you arrive here among these mountains?’

‘I was following my king, Diomedes, sailing north on the western sea, when we fought a people marching towards the land of the Achaeans. They were as numerous as locusts and they possessed weapons made of an invincible metal. The sword of Tydides, a formidable arm, was snapped in two as if it were made of wood. The king barely saved himself, and we with him. He ordered me to take my leave of the other ships and to sail back, to warn the Achaean kings of the danger. “They must assemble an army,” Diomedes said to me, “they must send the black ships out to sea!” I have travelled at length, I have endured every sort of suffering, I have been imprisoned and enslaved, but I have kept faith to my promise. You are the first of the Achaean kings I have met. Tell the others to prepare their defences and allow me to depart, for I must join my king in the land of Hesperia.’

Pyrrhus looked at him without batting an eye.

‘Who told you where you could find me?’ he asked, looking intently at Anchialus in the darkness as if to see inside of him. He rose to his feet and approached him, towering over him by a full head. ‘My route was a secret. How did you find me?’

‘I suffered and fought at Ilium like your father, like all the other Achaean chiefs and warriors, like you did. What does it matter how I found you? The gods guided my steps so I could bring you this alarm.’

Pyrrhus burst out laughing. ‘The gods! If there are any gods, they amuse themselves by setting us down the wrong paths, by bringing us to remote, desolate destinations. They set us off one against another and they enjoy watching as we add wound to wound, as we slaughter each other. Like when we goad our dogs into a fight, and bet on which will be the first to rip out the throat of another. Don’t talk to me about the gods. I’m young but I’m not stupid, don’t make game of me. Tell me who told you where I was or you will die. I could care less if you fought at Ilium.’

Anchialus shuddered: in that boy was the awesome power of the son of Peleus, but not a crumb of his father’s piety, nor his hospitable manners. He had not offered him a seat, had not had his feet washed and had not brought him food or drink. And now he was threatening him with death.

‘If I tell you the truth, do you promise you will bring my message to the kings of the Achaeans?’

‘I promise to take you with me; you can tell them yourself. I have no reason to believe you and I do not know who you are. They’ll believe you if they want to. If someone recognizes you. Now speak, for my patience is at an end.’

Anchialus spoke: ‘Andromache told me, of her own free accord. Do not hurt her; she did not wish to harm you.’

‘Andromache. .’ repeated the young king.

‘Oh wanax,’ Anchialus spoke again, unable to hold back his feelings, ‘if the blood of Achilles truly flows in your veins, be generous with her, give her her freedom, respect her pain. She has been spared no suffering.’

Pyrrhus returned to his stool and started to pet his dog, as if he had heard nothing. He held his head low, as if he were listening to a dim, distant song; his men were singing to themselves as they struggled to stay awake on guard.

When he raised his head, his dark gaze was streaked with folly: ‘My mother was a silly, fearful girl who didn’t even want to give birth to me, afraid as she was of the pain. I need a real mother. That’s why I took away Andromache’s son, that little bastard, understand? Because I wanted her all for myself. When I saw her I knew she was the mother I wanted. . and you think that I would leave her after all I’ve done to have her? You must be mad, foreigner, if you think I would give her up.’

Anchialus looked at him, bewildered: he had journeyed so far, overcoming such danger, to meet up with a foolish boy whom the gods had deprived of the light of reason. And yet the blood of Thetis and Peleus ran in that boy’s veins, the blood of Achilles! The race of the Achaeans, in keeping with some obscure destiny, had been corrupted and poisoned, and perhaps all of his troubles had been for naught. He thought of returning whence he had come, of seeking a crossing towards the land of Hesperia where he would find his king, the one man who would never disappoint or betray him; not even the mysterious lights that pulsed in the sky could touch him.

But Pyrrhus came to his senses; his voice changed suddenly and his look, now, was inexplicably firm and direct. ‘You will come with me,’ he said, ‘son of Iasus. We will go as far as the Isthmus and lay siege to Mycenae from the north. From the south and west will come Pisistratus son of Nestor, Orestes son of Agamemnon, and Menelaus as well, and perhaps even Ulysses, that bastard son of a bitch. If he has come back. Menelaus has promised me his daughter Hermione as my bride; she is the loveliest girl in the world, the very picture of her mother Helen, they say. Then we will turn against Argos and then Crete. They will all fall.’

‘But wanax!’ protested Anchialus. ‘You are all running a mortal risk. A threat is gathering over the land of the Achaeans, from the north. They will come, sooner or later, and will find you weakened by these fratricidal wars. They will annihilate you; you will suffer the same fate as the Trojans did with us. All of you must unite and face this danger together! Promise me that you will warn the other kings, and then allow me to return to the Land of the Dying Sun, where my lord awaits me.’

Pyrrhus smiled, revealing a row of fierce white teeth: ‘The Achaean kings have been away from their own lands for too long and many things have changed. We must engage in more combat so that things may return the way they were. When this war is over, we will certainly be united, that I can promise you. And no enemy who comes from outside will defeat us because I will govern this land. . There is no metal in the world that can threaten the sword of Achilles!’ he shouted out, unsheathing the sword and striking hard at the shield hanging from the tent’s central pole. The great bronze sword clanged out loudly and Anchialus saw, as if in a dream, the faded