Silence lingered with nightfall surfacing the shores of Troy. Not even tattered flags wavered in the face of Aeolian winds. Only the waves foaming the sands disrupted the quiet, one that seemed eternity for the proud Greeks standing proud no more.
Next to the whispering sea crackled the blazes wavering on the pyres. Blotting the skies, and depriving the blackened waters of the incandescence shining the moon and stars was black smog fuming the charred corpses, which numbered thousands in this night alone.
Hundreds of thousands of Achaean warriors encircled the pyres, their heads drooping alongside their gazes they defeatedly casted at the blood-streaked sands. Debilitated, some laid flat on their rumps as their own brothers, fathers, and sons burnt in their waking. Discipline couldn't be bothered to be enforced. There was no shame in weeping for the dead, as long as it was done soundlessly.
Lifelessness gloomed the stilled countenances of others that remained unfazed by the spectacle. The dark circles blackening their weary eyes spelled it all of being well-versed in the grimness of war. Blood of their comrades, and their own, stained the black armors they donned.
The Ithacan and his subordinates ascended the ladder that led them to the peak of a pyre. This was the third time the three held with them a torch and a bag of coins along jugs of oil and wine. Once the king set his feet above, he took time to kneel beside each corpse and place two silver coins on their slumbering eyes for thirty times. He wasn't the only king at this dark of night to pay reverence for their own dead.
The bodies were doused in oil after, and the king was passed a torch. Once more, Odysseus gazed upon his deceased countrymen.
"Be in peace, brothers."
Flames spread across the pyre as the torch was thrown, with the wine being spilled in the blaze after by Odysseus. The journey for the Underworld could never be too safe.
It was his last duty for the night. Climbing down the ladder, he walked past his men towards the shore, palming one of their shoulders.
"Get some rest. All of you. You'll need it."
He walked past huts and the wounded swarming them. It proved difficult to not step on the latter with the minuscule gaps provided. His pace steadied, slowing to a halt once he saw a group of kneeling Ithacans huddling in a circle. They surrounded their wounded comrade that laid inanimately on his back.
Even from where he stood, Odysseus knew he was long deceased. Three blood-streaked Trojan arrows laid beside the fresh corpse. A warrior babbled out an excuse to his approaching king.
"We tried – "
Odysseus neared the body and crouched, shutting its eyelids with his fingertips.
"All that matters. He'll be burnt the following night."
He palmed the warrior's shoulder before heading for the shore. As he walked his way, he veered his head about to his men.
"Keep close eye. Maggots, rodents, and birds don't pay reverence for the dead like we do."
Reaching the edge of the shores, he climbed up the stairs that led him to the deck of the largest ship that had sailed for Troy. Patches of moss and barnacles now swarmed its eroding exteriors, and its stairway creaked each time he cautiously stepped on it. The higher he went, the more uneasiness crept to him as the thought of being cursed, of plunging below and twisting his neck unnerved him. He could only press onwards, whilst praying to the gods they make more meaningful demise out of him.
Odysseus halted before the giant tent in the center that was bulwarked by rows of guards. Palming his hips, he sighed as his gaze casted below.
"Odysseus. We need to talk."
"Granted," groaned a defeated voice from within.
The guards paved path for the king, who swiped aside the flaps and walked his way in. Inside, his bloodied armor and sword jingled with his footsteps gently thudding the wooden flooring.
Frail flames teetering on half-melted candles dimmed the place. Sitting on the throne in front of him was the Mycenaean king, Agamemnon, whose posture was as slouched as a drunkard. While his free hand massaged the brows on his drooped countenance, he held in his other a half-emptied jug of wine, which half a dozen more laid scattered untidily around him.
Sitting beside him was his younger brother, Menelaus, the Spartan king. He, too, could only face the floor beneath his feet. Despite the Ithacan's intruding presence, they remained motionless and wordless, contrasting from their usual loud-mouthed and hot-spirited demeanor. Never had they been this silenced. Odysseus knew they were quiet neither out of pity for the dead, nor for the repercussions of their actions, but for their own diminishing glory.
Seeing them in their fancy robes like they were preparing for slumber pinched a sting in his guts. That they didn't bother walking out a step to mourn the dead themselves inflamed him further. They sickened him to the core, and to him they looked no mightier than beggars in the streets. It had been far too long since the blood-related kings donned their armors to battle.
He took time to walk to his seat, refusing to lay low his heated sight from the brothers, particularly at Agamemnon. The glare that could kill was doggedly maintained at them, even after his armor rattled from slouching on his seat parallel to the Spartan.
He huffed out his nose, just audible enough for them to dart their flickering sights at his frowning hazels. Odysseus lingered on the wordless moment to bat his glare from Agamemnon's browns to Menelaus' blues in back-and-forth mannerism. When the waves below swashed for the fifth time, he could wait no longer to break silence.
"A hundred dead my own, counting."
The brothers stuttered their gazes up at the Ithacan, only to falter them to the floor.
"A hundred more that'll never rekindle the warmth from embracing their kin. Now they know what it's like to shiver in the depths of Hades."
Odysseus snarked a restrained laughter as he felt his greying goatee bristling his temples and jaw.
"After all the hell they had endured, you'd think they deserve a modicum of sympathy."
Menelaus huffed sharply out his nose, mustering the courage to look Odysseus in the eyes. He had to save face somehow.
"Their sacrifices weren't in vain."
An eye-rolling scoff from the Ithacan.
"So boldly coming from you. Tell me – "
His seat creaked as he sat upright, hunching his shoulders forward. Scorn creased his smile whilst he glared the Spartan.
" – when was the last you had the balls to lead your Spartans in the heat of battle? And no. Buying me into that 'I was barking commands from the rear' horse-shit is the last you'd wish to pull. When was the last you had claimed the life of a Trojan? With all seriousness intended."
The courage in the Spartan's countenance dissipated like smoke, his sight faltering below. Frustration got the better of him as he wished he could verbally fight back, but words alone could no longer carry the weight mounting his back. Odysseus raised his brows at Agamemnon, forcing a smile until wrinkles creased his hazels.
"You?"
The other was as speechless as his younger kin. Odysseus couldn't stop himself from grinning as he slouched his back and faced elsewhere. Puckering his lips while nodding sarcastically, he ran his hand down his brown, curly hair.
"The kind of response I'd expect from spineless, glory-hungry cravens. If only the both of you reckless bastards may truly fathom the absolute state you've dragged us into."
Unchecked rage brimmed within the Spartan. He slammed his palms on the armrests, straightening himself from his seat whilst scowling the Ithacan. His shoulders heaved along the rhythm of his heated breaths fuming his nose. Intent on pacifying him, Agamemnon raised his palm at his brother.
"Enough."
Though the words of his elder kin came foremost, Menelaus obstinately refused to back down and doggedly kept up his glare at Odysseus, who fearlessly returned a smug grin.
"Calm yourself," reiterated Agamemnon. Menelaus pointed at the Ithacan as he glared him down.
"He insults us."
"With my head throbbing enough as it is, I can't afford to face another dissension racketed by two maddened dogs. Stop, or I shall have the both of you removed this instant!"
Menelaus huffed and reluctantly sat himself down. Silence was short-reigned when Odysseus was forced yet again to dispel the quietude.
"I want to hear it from you."
He glared right at Agamemnon, who frowned back.
"Hear what?"
"That it's all a lost cause – "
"It is a lost cause, when I SAY – "
Agamemnon hurled the jug at Odysseus, who ducked his head. The ceramic shattered to shards once colliding harshly on the white statue of Zeus. In unabated fury, the bloodshot hazels on the Mycenaean glowered the Ithacan.
" – IT IS LOST! You have no say of what I can or can't do!"
The moment Odysseus gazed behind him, his heart sunk with his soul trembling along. Menelaus' hot-red complexion flushed pale-white upon seeing the figure of Zeus vandalized. Rivers of wine slithered and dripped from its cracked head, enriching the white in blood-red.
Agamemnon went distraught himself, his lips stuttering and his thoughts thunderstruck in numbness. He cleared his throat like it had never happened, fiddling with his ringed dreadlocks. Barely able to tolerate his recklessness, Odysseus sighed out his nose as he drooped his head towards his knees before commencing the heated discourse.
"It's not a behest. I'm telling you – to think. Think for once in your bloody life!" angrily pleaded Odysseus, tapping his temple with his fingertip. An inflamed grimace returned shortly to Agamemnon.
"We have Ajax to pummel through the blasted Trojan gates, and his brother, Teucer, to keep the damned archers at bay! We – have – Diomedes!"
"And they Pandarus. Sarpedon, a demigod carrying the blood of Zeus – Zeus of all Olympians. I fail to see your point. As great warriors they may be, them alone won't prove enough. Even Diomedes falters in heart. It was over the moment he sailed off – like what we should've done years ago."
Agamemnon frowned at the Ithacan in genuine perplexity.
"Who?"
Odysseus shot back an accusatory glare, his shoulders steadily hunching forward.
"You know damn well who."
Sighing in distress, the Mycenaean shut his eyes and rubbed his forehead.
"Oh no. For the love of Olympus, I beg you not to mention him. Anyone but him."
"You and his needless feud for glory's costed us everything. This has gone far enough."
The tip of Odysseus' finger speared straight at Agamemnon, who didn't take kindly the gesture.
"If you wish to turn the tide of battle, you'll do well to follow as I say: You will sail for his birthplace, make amends with him and his Myrmidons, then – "
Agamemnon's browns bulged in infuriation.
"Then what?! THEN – WHAT?!"
"Lick their toes – or bow if you have to, you cretin! Your worthless pride is more fleeting than a grain of sand now!" bursted back the Ithacan. Snickering, Agamemnon palmed his chest.
"Me?! The Usurper of the Aegean Seas – submit to them?! A bunch of lowly, warmongering sacks of wine?!"
He wheezed at the thought before resuming the outburst.
"Not in an aeon! Not until the dust from my bones drifts to the seas by Aeolus himself!"
"That's it then. We're done for," sighed Odysseus. He swayed his arms overhead as he slouched back, blowing his hair draping his forehead. Blankness swamped his defeated countenance.
"Why haven't you done anything about it to convince the stubborn bastard?" accused Menelaus. Odysseus snickered.
"And why haven't you pulled head from ass? You speak as if I haven't done so since the beginning of this bloody war. He won't give in, unless – "
He nudged his head at Agamemnon. His glare at the latter was as condemning as ever.
" – he does something about it. If you wish for us to keep what's left of our dwindling pride, if you wish to horde all the glory to yourselves – for the love of Zeus – do whatever it takes to get the helmet fitting his head, to get his hands gripping the sword, the shield. If you think Achilles is the man to bend to the will of kings, you, friends, are deathly mistaken. You're no gods, you fools."
Odysseus stood from his seat, making his way out the tent as the brothers scowled at him silently behind his back. He stilled before leaving for good, half-turning his face without gazing back at them.
"Until then, expect no progress to be made. Until then don't think about setting foot past the Trojan gates – you can dream on. Expect thousands of more bodies to swarm the shores by succeeding nightfall. By then the men would be too waned to build pyres for the dead, too drained to follow orders – too deranged to lay offerings for the gods. At this rate, you're bound to don your own armor, carry your own shields and swords to battle, with the dead outnumbering the wounded, and the wounded more numerous than the strong."
Menelaus wasn't letting him off easy.
"Are you daft?! It's been prophesized that the Trojans will fal – "
"Prophesized?"
A scoff from the Ithacan, who glared back the Spartan.
"Ah yes. The self-proclaimed seers. The same seers that fuel their delusions of grandeur with wine after wine until they can't be bothered to decipher the words hissing out their asses. To think idiots parrot idiots playing fire with the gods themselves, color me astonished – "
A toll of a bell snapped their gazes above. Outside, the cries of men massed to incoherent babbles. It had been rung exclusively to rally the Greeks to battle, until now. Agamemnon leapt up from his throne.
"What's that..?! A Trojan counterattack..?! If we're preparing for battle, I gave no such order!"
The bell continued to toll with the cries amplifying in volume. Menelaus leapt up after his brother.
"Can't be the Trojans..! We're in the process of burning the dead – a ceasefire was concurred..! Surely the Trojans possess more honor than that..!"
The kings hurried out the tent with Agamemnon leading the way. The cacophony muffled no more once the latter swayed aside the flaps. The Mycenaean was forced to push aside the guards as all their attention was robbed elsewhere.
"What's all this noise, this ruckus?!"
Below on the sands, men scurried out their huts. Sacrificial goats bleated and horses neighed in terror. The mourning was disrupted altogether, with all gazes transfixing the skies that radiated twinkling gold. It was so incandescent that dawn seemed to fast succeed, though the source of the brilliance didn't rise from the horizon. It was free-falling in a sharp, hasty decline.
Agamemnon was still busy fighting his way through the bewitched guards, who all stood there dumbfounded like they were petrified by the Gorgon. Gritting his teeth, he used all his strength to pave way.
"Out of the way! Out of the way I sai – "
He, too, froze where he was with his mouth gaped, bewitched the moment his awestruck visage irradiated under its glimmering presence. Joining beside the enthralled Mycenaean, Odysseus and Menelaus had their fronts gleaming in splendid radiance as they gazed up the skies. They were just as mesmerized.
All their shadows stretched behind them and steadily tilted sideways as the dazzling spectacle descended the lightened clouds, closer to their astonished sights. Speaking of shadows, they were the only phenomenon presently black. Neither the sea, nor the smoke billowing the corpses was as black as they should be. All their cries eventually deafened to noiselessness, save those of the panicking critters.
Every living soul massing the beach and ships remained stiffened as statues, moving not a muscle. They genuinely wondered if Apollo, the Sun God, himself was riding down his flaming chariot.
"What's that..?"
Agamemnon desperately tried uttering words out his mouth. Near-speechless, he reiterated in a stutter.
"Wh-What's that..th-thing..?!"
He faced his left.
"Brother..?"
The Spartan's mouth moved, but no words spoke from it. Agamemnon faced his other.
"Odysseus..?"
"A sign perhaps.." responded the dumbfounded Ithacan. He couldn't keep his hazels off the spectacle next to his gaping mouth.
"Telling us what..?!"
"Chances are it's mere coincidence of a fallen star – "
"A star that blinding..? That intense..? That – "
Gripping the Ithacan's shoulder, the Mycenaean pointed his trembling finger at the plunging figure that was halfway from reaching ground.
" – coincidence..?! That right there..?! Nonsense..!"
Odysseus slapped his hand off of him.
"Quiet."
Agamemnon sealed his mouth for now, returning his gaze to the source of the Greeks' undivided attention. Not once had any of them blinked after all this time.
The figure was headed for the city of Troy, and the beach regressed to darkness once the high walls blockaded its remaining descent from the spectators. A gentle tremor not too long after rumbled the earth in a soundless thud. They all felt it under their feet.
"It landed for Troy.."
Frowning, Odysseus casted his gaze down.
"But why..?"
Whispers grew over the shore. Hope, terror, and outright confusion mingled within the ranks. Agamemnon, desperate for answers, sought for his seers at once.
"The oracles..Yes..The oracles..They must know something we don't."
He grimaced a guard to his left.
"Make yourself useful and bring me the damned oracles at once!"
Still entranced, the guard had his gaped mouth facing his king. A scowl succeeded the frown on the Mycenaean.
"Quickly before I carve you to parts myself and throw them out to the seas for Charybdis to swallow! Damn you, make haste!"
Gasping to conscience, the guard sprinted for the stairway and on his way tripped on his toes, thudding on his chest with his helmet rolling away. Hurrying up his feet, then on his knees, he refitted the helmet on him before running wildly down the ship. Agamemnon then faced the spellbound guard to his right and grabbed him by the collar with both his hands, aggressively shaking him with his scowl inching from the other's terrified visage.
"You! Summon the generals! Hurry with you!"
Agamemnon shoved him aside, sending him hobbling towards the stairway. Enlarging his scowl, the Mycenaean impatiently waved him off with a stroke of his hand.
"Run like the wind! Fly like the Messenger God!"
The guard rushed below like no tomorrow. Meanwhile, the frown on Odysseus fixated the black billow rising within the Trojan walls.
"Athena.."
He gazed up the starless skies.
"Is this your doing..?"
gabekaykwok (Oct 27) – Updates will be irregular with no specified dates. Typically you can expect an update per month or around there.
demonoid217 (Nov 2) – As mentioned above, updates will be sporadic. There is no planned schedule for updates.
Guest (Nov 5) – I think you've pretty much nailed it down when it comes to the morality alignment represented between the two sides. As you've indirectly mentioned, it's a very messy process mingled in bitter misunderstandings, arrogance, pride, and stupidity that could only lead into a vicious cycle. While, to me, the perpetrators of the war are clear, many are trapped in a conflict they never saw coming or asked for amongst mortals and gods alike.
Spotter (Dec 2) – You stand correct. Odysseus addressed himself to let his presence be known to Agamemnon prior entry to the tent. If it were "Odysseus, we need to talk." with the comma embedded there, then it would be a different case of Agamemnon addressing directly to Odysseus – which isn't the intent in this chapter.