It’s A Wonderful War

“I bet that if Achilles knew how ugly war was, he wouldn’t want to pillage Troy,” Artemis snapped, stepping aside from their mountaintop bar on Olympus to watch the ongoing conflict. “He’s not a god but just a man, lucky that his mother, the sea nymph Thetis, dunked him in the River Styx to make him nearly invulnerable.”

            Athena tossed her drink aside. “Luck has nothing to do with it. You’re upset that Achilles bested Hector. He dragged your champion’s body around to show who was the better man.”

            The goddess of the moon evaluated her fellow deity’s smug smile. “Let’s see how wise you are, Athena. I’ll wager that Achilles won’t survive the week, much less this accursed war.”

            Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty joined the other two, winking at her friend Artemis. “Are you two debating the Trojan War again?”

            “Nobody invited you to this discussion,” Athena shot back waspishly. “And Paris kidnapped Helen. The Greeks want their King Menelaus’ wife back.”

            Aphrodite laughed. “Helen ran off that Trojan prince, willingly, I might add. And I always take the side of true love.”

            The goddess of wisdom snorted derisively at the love goddess, stepping away to gaze down from the clouds. She and other gods watched the powerful Greek warrior flexing his muscles. He was easily the best.

            “It’s a deal, Artemis,” she said as she signaled for another drink. “And I want that new bow that you fashioned, which took you forever to make, the one that you are so proud of now.”

            Artemis gasped. She worked so hard on her new weapon. But some things were worth more than a prized possession, like making a point.

            “Deal,” the moon goddess replied. “And I’ll have you part with that gold diadem you love to show off at the council.”

            Athena reflexively touched the object. “No…wait, yes.” She shifted her pose with her hand on her hip. “I don’t need to worry about losing it. It’s a wager.”

            Both goddesses made the symbol with their hands to seal the promise. Athena strode away with a confident swagger.

            Aphrodite smiled after the goddess of wisdom departed. “I hope you win.”

            “I know,” Artemis replied. “I loved how you rescued Paris from that awful King Menelaus in their duel. That boy almost died from Menelaus’ spear. He was lucky to survive.”

            “You know how I feel about true love,” Aphrodite explained. “Helen didn’t deserve to be tied down to that boor of an Achaean King. She should be with the one she loves.”

            The goddess of love fetched herself a drink from the bar.

            “Think you’ll win?” Aphrodite added.

            Artemis tapped the side of her head. “All men have weaknesses.”

            The two goddesses walked away, with their heads together in a whispered discussion. Athena eyed them, then considered her strategy. I know Achilles’ weakness too, she thought. And I know how to protect him.

            Briseis, the former wife of Mynes, had been taken prisoner by the Achaean Greeks and given to Achilles. After entering the tent, she shook the big man awake. “Achilles,” she called to him. “I have brought you something to eat, and a warning.”

            But it wasn’t Briseis. It was Athena, cleverly disguised. The real maidservant was helplessly bound up in blankets in another tent.

            “You have a weakness…”

            “Yes, my heart has been captured by you,” he laughed.

            Athena, disguised as Briseis groaned. Maybe Artemis had a point about humans. “Concentrate for a moment, my champion, instead of allowing something other than your head to control your mind.”

            Achilles pulled Athena, disguised as Briseis, to his bed.

            “You must listen to me!” Athena insisted. “The Trojans are about to exploit that weakness you are so cavalier about disregarding. They know about your heel; they plan to shoot you with an arrow right there.”

            For the first time that evening, Achilles’ confident expression vanished. “I cannot be felled by a single arrow before the conquest of Troy is complete. What must I do to protect myself, Briseis?”

            Athena smiled, having got her point through that perfectly chiseled skull. “Take these metal grieves and wear them over your heels. They should deflect any missiles fired from the Trojan bows.”

            The giant of a man’s self-assurance reemerged, holding the armored garments. “Thank you, Briseis, for saving me.” He grinned, strapping them on before combat.

            “Thank Athena, you mean” the goddess disguised as Brises smiled.

            Achilles began to rally his troops for the final assault on Troy. The Achaeans had the numbers, but their enemy held the walls and defensive fortifications. Storming Troy would be bloody, and success would not be assured. He glared up at the archers, wondering how many had special instructions from their king, or even the Goddess Artemis, to target his heel with their arrows. Wouldn’t they be surprised to see them have no effect?

            A hand from a tent that was used for military planning beckoned him forward. He thought it would be Agamemnon, but noted it was a woman’s hand. Intrigued, he started forward. But it was…

            “Mighty Athena!” Achilles gasped and knelt with surprising speed. “What do you desire of me?”

            “The Goddess Artemis has been plotting your demise. She has instructed the Trojans to kill you with an arrow to your heel.”

            “You are wise, Great Athena,” Achilles remained kneeling before her. “My new maidservant Briseis gave me a warning, and a pair of armor gauntlets to protect my heels, so no Trojan can penetrate them and kill me. I promise you that Troy will be yours, and you shall be victorious.”

            The Goddess of Wisdom nodded. “Yes…I gave those gauntlets to her to protect you. But I just learned that Artemis gave a special bow, that never misses, to Paris, along with a magical arrow that can pierce any mortal armor. You will die before you breach the city gates. When that happens, the Trojans, and Artemis, will prevail.”

            The Greek warrior turned his head upward to look at the goddess. “Wonderful Athena, what may I do to avoid such misfortune?”

            As if out of thin air, Athena seemed to conjure a vial full of a dark liquid. “Take this potion. It will put you in a deep sleep, resembling a coma. By the time you awake, the gates will be breached, and the city will be ours. You will lead the final conquest.”

            Achilles frowned. “But I won’t be there with my men to attack the walls. I will not have the glory….” He then saw her jaw tighten. “My apologies, Goddess Athena. I should not have questioned your wisdom. I shall do as you command.”

            Her smile returned. “Do not dismay, Achilles. You will still be there to capture the city, and the spoils of war shall be yours. It is the only way to protect you.”

            “I accept then.” Achilles rose and took the vial. He swallowed the purple-colored liquid and collapsed upon a blanket inside the tent covering the sand, remaining motionless, eyes closed, but would not face those Trojan arrows until the city fell.

            Shouts and screams woke Achilles, who stirred slowly. Briseis shook his arm gently, but firmly. “The gates of Troy have been breached,” she gasped.

            For once, the Greek champion ignored Briseis and dashed from his tent. In the night sky, the fires were raging, an illumination that was both beautiful and terrifying.

            He seized a sword and shield, and sprang forward, following other warriors charging through the gates. He saw Trojan soldiers dropping their weapons, pleading for mercy. But the Achaeans ignored their cries and began stabbing the unarmed men.

            “What are you doing!” Achilles demanded of his fellow Greeks. “I command you to stop, and to take them prisoner.”

            One officer turned toward him. “They killed our countrymen! And they’ll pay for our losses.”

            Achilles stepped before them, weapon at the ready. “Do not kill any more Trojans. To do so is wrong, and the gods will disfavor us.”

            The officer laughed. “Does our victory over the Trojans look like punishment?”

            A Greek soldier stabbed another captive, earning a few fewer teeth after Achilles’ punch. Another Achaean slashed the bowels of a second surrendering Trojan, leading Achilles to cut the Greek down with his newly taken blade.

            “Strike another man, and we’ll treat you like a Trojan!” the Greek officer commanded.

            “I wish you would!” Achilles yelled, raising his shield and preparing for a most unexpected combat.

            But a cry above him distracted the champion from saving the captives. A young boy fell from the heights of the palace. He hit the stones below that made up the city roads with a sickening thud. As painful as the sight of the dead boy was, the hurt in Achilles’ chest was worse. He was wounded in his heart, knowing somehow that the men he trained and led were responsible for this tragedy.

            With near superhuman speed, Achilles climbed up the ramparts to the top of the walls, where other children were being prepared for a similar fate. He had to stop the slaughter.

            “What are you doing?!”

            A Greek general replied to Achilles. “These boys will grow up to avenge their fathers if we don’t do this.” A battalion of men stepped forward, fully armed to block the Greek champion’s advance, and the massacre of children continued.

            Achilles wished he hadn’t dropped his sword and shield before he began his ascent. The cries of terror and the horrible sound of them hitting the ground were more than he could bear. His eyes stung with pain of experiencing so much grief that he was incapable of crying.

            “Athena!” Achilles screamed in anguish. “Help me stop this slaughter! Surely this misfortune could not be what you desire!”

            But Athena did not seem to care.

            Down the street, Achilles spotted a Greek general dragging away a Trojan noblewoman. He identified the lady by the fancy purple dress she wore. He couldn’t save the city, but maybe he could help this woman caught in a bind.

            As he got closer, he could see her wrists bound behind her back, and a gag pulled between her teeth, knotted behind her auburn tresses.

            Achilles grabbed the officer. “What do you think you are doing?”

            The general laughed. “She’s mine. I claimed her from the palace and subdued her. She will be my compensation for sacking the city.”

            The Greek champion snarled. “You’ll let her go or answer to me!”

            In response, the Greek officer lunged with his sword at Achilles, who dodged the blow. Momentarily off-balance from having to swing the blade, as well as having to hold his captive, the general was now vulnerable to a counterattack.

            Achilles hit the leader’s arm, leading the general to drop the sword. That blade was soon run through the general’s chest, ending the fight.

            The officer let go of his prisoner and crumpled to the ground.

            Achilles scooped up the noblewoman and took her inside a nearby house not yet touched by the flames engulfing the city. He’d free her, and they still had time to escape.

            Inside the room, he gently set the beautiful lady down on her feet. He pulled the gag from her lips so that it hung around her neck.

            “Oh, my brave savior, how may I thank you for freeing me from a terrible fate?” she cooed.

            Or at least he thought she would say something like that. But she didn’t.

            “You bastard!” she spat.

            Achilles looked at her in shock. “But I just rescued you!”

            “Your name is Achilles, right? My name is Andromache. You slaughtered my husband, Hector. And your men just threw my son to his death.”

            Still stunned, Achilles explained his actions. “Your husband killed my friend Patroclus.”

            The woman disregarded his excuse. “He did so because you refused to fight my man, and your friend wore your armor. You dragged my beloved’s body around the city behind your chariot,” she added bitterly. “Then the men you led killed my son, friends, and anyone else I’ve ever loved.”

            She struggled with her bonds, the only thing that seemed to keep Andromache from scratching his eyes out. “Your men killed our king and queen, slaughtered our surrendering soldiers, enslaved our women, and trussed me up like an animal, binding me over to a brute. What did we ever do to you? Just because a young woman left her mean husband for a nice man, you destroyed us as a people. Did we deserve such a terrible fate?”

            Achilles paused. It was a horrible reason to have this massacre. He sighed, knowing what he must do. It would ease his suffering which the pillaging of Troy had done to his heart.

            As he approached the noblewoman, she shut her eyes, as if bracing for his wrath. He picked up the sword and spun her around. Andromache flinched. Then he cut the cords at her wrists. When she opened her eyes, Achilles knelt before her, trembling, hands holding a sword out to her.

            “You are right,” he moaned. “I killed your husband and dishonored his body. I didn’t mean to, as I was in a rage over the loss of my friend Patroclus. My men murdered your son, killed your people, and destroyed your city. I brought this misfortune upon you, and deserve to die, and you should be the one to strike the fatal blow.”

            Andromache gently took the sword. He seemed surprised at her ability to wield it. He lowered his head, exposing his neck, and then closed his eyes. He could feel the cold blade scrape the hairs upon the back of his neck. A thin trickle of blood dripped from the spot.

            “No, mighty Achilles,” she whispered. “You want to die. You think your sacrifice will make up for what I lost that I loved. A quick death is too good for you.”

            The sword clanged on the stone floor. His last view of Andromache was of her slipping through what appeared to be a trap door across the floor. His plea for her to return and finish him off went unanswered.

            “Athena!” Achilles now begged. “Please answer my prayer!”

            This time, Athena appeared. “What do you want, my brave and powerful Achilles?”

            Achilles groaned. “I want to go back to the last battle. I don’t want this so-called victory.”

            Athena’s hand went to her chin, in thought. “But you and your men will be remembered as the winners of the Battle of Troy. You’ll live to be heroes. And you can still have the beautiful Andromache, the wife of the man who slew your best friend, as your helpless prize. What is so wrong with that?”

            Achilles glanced at the sword that lay on the floor. “Besting a man in single combat is one thing. Killing a child, slaying prisoners, and kidnapping a lady is something different, and not something I sought out when I joined this quest. Didn’t we start this pointless war over a woman’s heart? I’ve always honored you. Please send me back so I can accept my fate.”

            The Goddess of Wisdom sighed. “If that is your wish, then I shall grant it.”

            The Trojan dwelling vanished, replaced by the Greek battlefield moments before the attack.

            Athena picked up her drink to watch the final battle between the Achaeans and Trojans from her lofty vantage point among Mt. Olympus’ clouds. She was surprised to see her mirror image down below. In a flash, that lookalike disappeared, only to appear next to her upon their vantage point at Olympus’ heights. What was going on?

            Before her eyes, Athena could see the woman who looked just like her morph into her bitter rival.

            “Artemis!” Athena screamed. “What are you doing? What have you done?” The real Athena raged against her fellow goddesses.

            But Artemis merely glanced below. At that moment, a Trojan arrow flew from the ramparts, striking Achilles in his unprotected heel. He crumpled to the ground and did not stir.

            Athena screamed “Noo!!! Where were the metal leg guards I gave him?” She looked at Artemis. “You must have stolen them from him!”

            Artemis shook her head.

            “Then that foolish human forgot to strap them on, ignoring my warning,” Athena groused.

            “He didn’t forget,” Artemis replied. “He chose not to wear them, and deliberately die.”

            “But why?”

            Artemis laughed. “I showed him how ugly it would all be in the end.” She described how she changed herself to appear as her rival Athena, offered the potion, and gave Achilles that choice. “Oh, and I had a little help.”

            Andromache joined the two goddesses. To Athena’s shock, the Trojan beauty morphed into Aphrodite. “I got to be kidnapped,” she gushed.

            Then her smile vanished. “But I showed Achilles the suffering of women in war. Noble Achilles couldn’t take the truth. And now you lost your Greek champion, Athena.”

            Artemis and Aphrodite left arm in arm, chatting about the vision they made for Achilles. Athena hurled her drink down the mountain, angered at losing her strongest warrior. She would also have to surrender her diadem to Artemis soon. Damn!

            Then a clever thought came to her. Two can play this game, she thought. She decided to tip the fortune of war against Artemis’ and Aphrodite’s beloved Trojans. Within minutes she descended from Mount Olympus to the Greek tents around Troy. Once again, she incapacitated Briseis and took her form. She emerged from her tent and approached the clever Odysseus.

            “I have a great plan for you to win the Trojan War, a message from Athena.”

            Odysseus stroked his beard. “I’m listening.”

            “Gather your carpenters and as much wood as you can find.” Athena, in the form of Briseis, insisted, spreading on the floor a design that resembled a gigantic horse. Looks like my Greeks’ luck is about to change from bad to good.