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So I'm taking this class called Gore and Glory: Early Heroic Literature. And, well, I shouldn't really be taking it, because we're reading the Iliad on such a shallow level, and I'm pretty sure most of the people in the class are just there to get their literature and the arts credit. But good things are born from the mediocre, I suppose: something sparked me thinking about what would have happened if Achilles had actually killed Agamemnon in Book I. And so I've decided to write it. (with some help from A.T. Murray's translation) Book I is basically summary, though.
BOOK I
Sing, goddess, Peleus’ son Achilles’ madness
Destructive, which made so many pains for the Achaeans,
Sending to Hades so many strong souls
Of heroes, and made them a prize for birds and dogs,
From that day when once Achilles slew
The son of Atreus, the lord of men Agamemnon.
Who among the gods set them to fight in strife?
Leto’s and Zeus’ son; for angered with the king,
He sent an evil sickness upon the camp, and the people died,
Because Agamemnon dishonored the priest Chryses;
He had come to the swift ships of the Achaeans
To ransom his daughter, and bearing ransom beyond cost,
Having on his staff the garlands of the farshooter Apollo
And he begged all the Achaeans,
And most of all the Atriedes, the marshals of the people,
“Atriedes, and you other well-greaved Achaeans,
May the gods who have homes on Olympus
Grant that you sack the city of Priam, and come home well,
But free my dear child, and accept the ransom,
Respecting the son of Zeus, the farshooter Apollo.”
Thus he spoke, and the Achaeans acclaimed him,
Shouting out to accept the ransom and respect the priest.
But the son of Atreus, wide-ruling Agamemnon was angered in his heart
And drove the priest of Apollo the farshooter away,
Speaking harsh words. And the priest,
Sorrowing greatly, prayed to Apollo that his wrongs be righted,
And the farshooter, lord Apollo, heard him
And sent destructive sickness on the camp.
For nine days the people died in their thousands,
Tamed by the Lord of Delphi, Aegletes,
Until that time when swift-footed Achilles called to meet
The greatest of the Achaeans: Agamemnon lord of men
And the horseman Nestor, and great Menelaus,
And Odysseus, the man of many wiles.
Speaking swift words, he addressed them:
“Sons of Atreus, and you other well-greaved Achaeans,
Now I think some great plague has come upon us,
And the gods desire that we return home.
But come, let us consult some seer or fortune teller,
That we may know why the Farshooter, Phoebus Apollo,
Is angered with us.” Thus he spoke, and the Greeks applauded him.
But Calchas rose among the Greeks, he who knew the will of gods,
And addressed god-like Achilles with these words:
“Son of Peleus, truth is the bedfellow of fear;
For if I speak I fear I shall anger a powerful man.
But do you give me your word that I shall be safe,
And I shall tell you of the anger of Phoebus Apollo.”
Then answering him spoke swift-footed Achilles,
“Though you offended Zeus himself, you should be safe;
Now speak, and tell us what must be done
To appease Apollo, the lord of Delphi, the farshooter.”
Then the seer Calchas spoke, prophesying:
“The god Apollo’s wrath is not because of some mean man
But rather he rages because Agamemnon, lord of men
Dishonored his priest and spurned the ransom,
Nor will he abate his anger until that time
When we send the girl Chryseis to her father,
And send too a blameless hecatomb to the lord Apollo.”
Thus he spoke, and Agamemnon spoke, raging,
“Seer of evil, what man has corrupted your tongue?
I do not wish to give back the girl, for she pleases me
As much as my wedded wife, Clytemnestra;
But I would that she should grow old by my loom.
Yet if I must give her back, I shall,
For the people are dying in the camp.
But I must have another prize, as good as this one,
Before the girl Chryseis goes to her father.”
Then spoke forth swift-footed Achilles:
“Most glorious son of Atreus, most covetous of all,
how shall the great-hearted Achaeans give you a prize?
For we have already divided the booty we have taken
From the cities we have sacked before.
But give back the girl to the god, and we Achaeans
will recompense you three and fourfold,
if ever Zeus grants us to sack the well-walled city of Troy.”
Then answering spoke great-hearted Agamemnon
“Son of Peleus, mighty Achilles, do not seek to deceive me –
For it is not seemly that I should go without a prize,
While the other sons of the Achaeans boast of theirs.
So I shall take someone’s prize, yours, or Odysseus’
Or Ajax’s, or blameless Idomeneus.
But let us speak of that later; now, let a black ship
Be sent to Chryses, bearing the girl and a blameless hecatomb.”
But the son of Peleus was angered in his shaggy heart and spoke forth:
“Dog-face, devourer of goods, shameless,
Why do I fight here for such a man? For I came here
Not for any anger against the Trojans,
But for an oath sworn and a word taken;
I shall not fight to pile up goods for you, Atrieides,
But rather I shall go home to Phthia,
Where I am honored, rather than remaining here to lose my prize.”
Then answering spoke the leader of men, Agamemnon:
“Go then, if your heart orders you to;
But before you do, I shall go to your low tent,
And taking your prize, bring her here.
For there are many here who honor me,
And above all Zeus the councilor.”
So he spoke. Grief came upon the son of Peleus,
And within his shaggy breast his heart was divided,
Whether he should draw his sharp sword from beside his thigh,
And break up the assembly, and slay the son of Atreus,
Or stay his anger and curb his spirit.
While he pondered this in mind and heart,
And was drawing from its sheath his great sword,
Athene came from heaven. The white-armed goddess Hera
Had sent her forth, for she cared for both men.
Achilles was seized with wonder, and turned around,
And immediately recognized Pallas Athene.
Then he addressed her with winged words,
And said: “Why now, daughter of aegis-bearing Zeus, have you come?
Is it so that you might see the arrogance of Agamemnon, son of Atreus?
One thing I will tell you, and I think this will be brought to pass: through his own
Excessive pride shall he presently lose his life.”
Him then the goddess, bright-eyed Athene, answered:
“I have come from heaven to stay your anger, if you will obey,
The goddess white-armed Hera sent me forth,
For in her heart she loves and cares for both of you.
But come, cease from strife, and do not grasp the sword with your hand.
Refrain, be moderate, obeying the gods.”
But the son of Peleus, god-like Achilles, was angered past reason
And he drew from its sheath his great sword,
And breaking up the assembly he slew the son of Atreus,
And the black blood sprang forth from his breast
And stained the ground. Then the sons of the Achaeans
Drew their sharp swords, but they hung back, fearing the son of Peleus.
But Patroclus sprang up and stood by him, drawing his sword.
The two heroes looked from below their brows at the Greeks,
Who, being afraid, did not approach them.
So the son of Peleus retreated to his tents and dark ships.
But from the peaks of Mount Olympus the gods looked down,
Sorrowing, and most of all Hera, the queen of heaven;
And speaking winged words, she berated the daughter of Zeus:
“Why, o Pallas, did you not enjoin the son of Peleus more strongly?
For now he has slain a man most dear to my heart,
Agamemnon, son of Atreus, leader of men.
Now it seems to me that the city of Troy will never fall,
For Zeus has held his hand over it;
And now I think the sons of the Achaeans will return home,
Going to their own homelands, without the booty of Troy.”
Then answering spoke Pallas Athena:
“Lament not, o ox-eyed lady, for though I have failed
It was not Zeus but Ate who drove Achilles’ hand.
The son of Kronos does not approve, nor will he save Troy,
But the city of hated Paris may yet fall.
I shall down to give counsel to fair-haired Menelaus,
For he shall lead the sons of the Achaeans.
I shall go too to the son of Peleus, in hopes that his heart
Is no longer angry, having slain Agamemnon, leader of men;
And perhaps Menelaus, too, will accept ransom;
So do not despair, O Hera, and take heart!
Then grey-eyed Athena departed, and went to the tents of the Achaeans.
BOOK I
Sing, goddess, Peleus’ son Achilles’ madness
Destructive, which made so many pains for the Achaeans,
Sending to Hades so many strong souls
Of heroes, and made them a prize for birds and dogs,
From that day when once Achilles slew
The son of Atreus, the lord of men Agamemnon.
Who among the gods set them to fight in strife?
Leto’s and Zeus’ son; for angered with the king,
He sent an evil sickness upon the camp, and the people died,
Because Agamemnon dishonored the priest Chryses;
He had come to the swift ships of the Achaeans
To ransom his daughter, and bearing ransom beyond cost,
Having on his staff the garlands of the farshooter Apollo
And he begged all the Achaeans,
And most of all the Atriedes, the marshals of the people,
“Atriedes, and you other well-greaved Achaeans,
May the gods who have homes on Olympus
Grant that you sack the city of Priam, and come home well,
But free my dear child, and accept the ransom,
Respecting the son of Zeus, the farshooter Apollo.”
Thus he spoke, and the Achaeans acclaimed him,
Shouting out to accept the ransom and respect the priest.
But the son of Atreus, wide-ruling Agamemnon was angered in his heart
And drove the priest of Apollo the farshooter away,
Speaking harsh words. And the priest,
Sorrowing greatly, prayed to Apollo that his wrongs be righted,
And the farshooter, lord Apollo, heard him
And sent destructive sickness on the camp.
For nine days the people died in their thousands,
Tamed by the Lord of Delphi, Aegletes,
Until that time when swift-footed Achilles called to meet
The greatest of the Achaeans: Agamemnon lord of men
And the horseman Nestor, and great Menelaus,
And Odysseus, the man of many wiles.
Speaking swift words, he addressed them:
“Sons of Atreus, and you other well-greaved Achaeans,
Now I think some great plague has come upon us,
And the gods desire that we return home.
But come, let us consult some seer or fortune teller,
That we may know why the Farshooter, Phoebus Apollo,
Is angered with us.” Thus he spoke, and the Greeks applauded him.
But Calchas rose among the Greeks, he who knew the will of gods,
And addressed god-like Achilles with these words:
“Son of Peleus, truth is the bedfellow of fear;
For if I speak I fear I shall anger a powerful man.
But do you give me your word that I shall be safe,
And I shall tell you of the anger of Phoebus Apollo.”
Then answering him spoke swift-footed Achilles,
“Though you offended Zeus himself, you should be safe;
Now speak, and tell us what must be done
To appease Apollo, the lord of Delphi, the farshooter.”
Then the seer Calchas spoke, prophesying:
“The god Apollo’s wrath is not because of some mean man
But rather he rages because Agamemnon, lord of men
Dishonored his priest and spurned the ransom,
Nor will he abate his anger until that time
When we send the girl Chryseis to her father,
And send too a blameless hecatomb to the lord Apollo.”
Thus he spoke, and Agamemnon spoke, raging,
“Seer of evil, what man has corrupted your tongue?
I do not wish to give back the girl, for she pleases me
As much as my wedded wife, Clytemnestra;
But I would that she should grow old by my loom.
Yet if I must give her back, I shall,
For the people are dying in the camp.
But I must have another prize, as good as this one,
Before the girl Chryseis goes to her father.”
Then spoke forth swift-footed Achilles:
“Most glorious son of Atreus, most covetous of all,
how shall the great-hearted Achaeans give you a prize?
For we have already divided the booty we have taken
From the cities we have sacked before.
But give back the girl to the god, and we Achaeans
will recompense you three and fourfold,
if ever Zeus grants us to sack the well-walled city of Troy.”
Then answering spoke great-hearted Agamemnon
“Son of Peleus, mighty Achilles, do not seek to deceive me –
For it is not seemly that I should go without a prize,
While the other sons of the Achaeans boast of theirs.
So I shall take someone’s prize, yours, or Odysseus’
Or Ajax’s, or blameless Idomeneus.
But let us speak of that later; now, let a black ship
Be sent to Chryses, bearing the girl and a blameless hecatomb.”
But the son of Peleus was angered in his shaggy heart and spoke forth:
“Dog-face, devourer of goods, shameless,
Why do I fight here for such a man? For I came here
Not for any anger against the Trojans,
But for an oath sworn and a word taken;
I shall not fight to pile up goods for you, Atrieides,
But rather I shall go home to Phthia,
Where I am honored, rather than remaining here to lose my prize.”
Then answering spoke the leader of men, Agamemnon:
“Go then, if your heart orders you to;
But before you do, I shall go to your low tent,
And taking your prize, bring her here.
For there are many here who honor me,
And above all Zeus the councilor.”
So he spoke. Grief came upon the son of Peleus,
And within his shaggy breast his heart was divided,
Whether he should draw his sharp sword from beside his thigh,
And break up the assembly, and slay the son of Atreus,
Or stay his anger and curb his spirit.
While he pondered this in mind and heart,
And was drawing from its sheath his great sword,
Athene came from heaven. The white-armed goddess Hera
Had sent her forth, for she cared for both men.
Achilles was seized with wonder, and turned around,
And immediately recognized Pallas Athene.
Then he addressed her with winged words,
And said: “Why now, daughter of aegis-bearing Zeus, have you come?
Is it so that you might see the arrogance of Agamemnon, son of Atreus?
One thing I will tell you, and I think this will be brought to pass: through his own
Excessive pride shall he presently lose his life.”
Him then the goddess, bright-eyed Athene, answered:
“I have come from heaven to stay your anger, if you will obey,
The goddess white-armed Hera sent me forth,
For in her heart she loves and cares for both of you.
But come, cease from strife, and do not grasp the sword with your hand.
Refrain, be moderate, obeying the gods.”
But the son of Peleus, god-like Achilles, was angered past reason
And he drew from its sheath his great sword,
And breaking up the assembly he slew the son of Atreus,
And the black blood sprang forth from his breast
And stained the ground. Then the sons of the Achaeans
Drew their sharp swords, but they hung back, fearing the son of Peleus.
But Patroclus sprang up and stood by him, drawing his sword.
The two heroes looked from below their brows at the Greeks,
Who, being afraid, did not approach them.
So the son of Peleus retreated to his tents and dark ships.
But from the peaks of Mount Olympus the gods looked down,
Sorrowing, and most of all Hera, the queen of heaven;
And speaking winged words, she berated the daughter of Zeus:
“Why, o Pallas, did you not enjoin the son of Peleus more strongly?
For now he has slain a man most dear to my heart,
Agamemnon, son of Atreus, leader of men.
Now it seems to me that the city of Troy will never fall,
For Zeus has held his hand over it;
And now I think the sons of the Achaeans will return home,
Going to their own homelands, without the booty of Troy.”
Then answering spoke Pallas Athena:
“Lament not, o ox-eyed lady, for though I have failed
It was not Zeus but Ate who drove Achilles’ hand.
The son of Kronos does not approve, nor will he save Troy,
But the city of hated Paris may yet fall.
I shall down to give counsel to fair-haired Menelaus,
For he shall lead the sons of the Achaeans.
I shall go too to the son of Peleus, in hopes that his heart
Is no longer angry, having slain Agamemnon, leader of men;
And perhaps Menelaus, too, will accept ransom;
So do not despair, O Hera, and take heart!
Then grey-eyed Athena departed, and went to the tents of the Achaeans.