Memnon & Achilles
By A.J. Mittendorf
The number of heroes on either side had severely diminished by the time Memnon came to battle for Troy against the long-haired Greeks. He was the son of golden-haired Dawn, whose rising hand, every morning, gently coaxes the timid sun from hiding.
In that war that had lasted more than nine years, Troy had lost Sarpedon, son of ageis-bearing Zeus; and Hector, son of King Priam, lord of lofty Troy. Even the Amazon queen, Penthesilea, had met her doom by the time Memnon joined Troy's ranks. Hector and Penthesilea were both lost to Achilles, the greatest Greek warrior, but Greece, too, had lost a good many mighty men including Antilochus, Nestor's proud son and Patroclus, Achilles' noble squire. Losses were numerous for both sides, and even after those many years of war, the end still stood well out of sight for everyone except the divinities by whom the end had long before been ordained.
Even so, with Hector dead and Achilles single-handedly bringing down man after man on the battle field, it seemed to all of Troy that their end was certainly at hand. Then Memnon came on the scene. He ruled Ethiopia with an iron fist and was known to dispense justice with flame and take city upon city with ferocity. He was Priam's proud nephew come to take back what had been claimed, and for a time all of Troy breathed more easily. Nestor was the second Greek to challenge Memnon who had brought down Antilochus even before his sea legs had regained their steadiness on Troy's plains. But Memnon scorned the challenge of Nestor, who, like so many of Memnon's foes, was no match. As great a warrior as he had been in earlier days, Nestor was no longer worthy to be brought down by so mighty a hand as Memnon's. He left Nestor for the warriors-in-training so that they may have the encouragement of the end of a lofty name under their belts, and he sought a Greek more like himself. Like so many true warriors, Memnon lacked adversaries who matched his prowess, except in Achilles; in him Memnon found a warrior equal to his own skill and might. Indeed, so evenly matched were the two, and of such skill, that none but Zeus himself could predict the outcome that the Fates had determined. They confronted each other before Troy, each admiring the stature of the other, while many other fighting men who could see another fight better than their own brewing, ceased their battles to stand amicably with their foes and study the skills of the heroes, or simply to watch their fight, or to gamble on the outcome, or, with some, to debate the merits of the techniques, weapons, fighting styles, or even the boasts of the two great warriors.
"They tell me, Achilles," Memnon began, "that you are skilled in fighting women to the death, for Penthesilea met her doom by your hand. Well done! And you accomplished such a feat all on your own! Tell me, what angered you so that you took her life, hmm? Were she and her maids laughing at that hairless face of yours, or was it that she just didn't play fair? Perhaps she stuck her tongue out at you? Or maybe she told your comrades that you liked her, eh? Ooh, that's a nasty business. Tell me, pretty boy, what it was that engendered such anger in you that you had to show off your proud sword to those warrior women."
"You talk too much, Memnon. Shut up and fight. You will find out, to your own detriment, who the manlier warrior is."
"How dare you address me in such a way! I am no son of a mere nereid, such as you, but of the morning queen herself, as high above a nereid as the sun is above the water, and her son is as equally high above the son of a nereid. By her mission all gods, men, and beasts alike are blessed. Those she does not bless live in caves in the sea--dumb monsters of the deep--deedless fish. I have no reason to shrink from battle, for I know now the outcome of our fight; it is plain."
"From this moment on," Achilles declared, "Ethiopian kings will not be known for their wits, if you serve as an example. You will know of my mother's greatness when my spear makes two half hearts in your breast. It was I who avenged Patroclus on Hector, and I will avenge Antilochus on you. By this time tomorrow, your mother, if she loves you, will indeed be the mourning queen."
As they closed on each other, they drew their swords and threw such blows that the other men covered their ears for the ringing. Zeus, who loved them both, augmented their skills and made them almost tireless for the fight. Dawn, looking on from Mount Ida, folded her arms about her knees, pulling them to her breast, rocking as she watched. Thetis herself, Achilles' own mother, sat lovingly beside her, taking her hand in her own. There they comforted each other knowing that one of their two beloved sons would soon bleed his last, unable to run to his mother for the envied kiss of sympathy.
From morning until mid-day the heroes clashed. Their well-crafted shields blocked as many blows as the shore blocks the waves of the sea in a year. Their swords seemed to vanish for the speed at which each was wielded, and they whistled through the air as though thinking that a cheery song might make it plain to the on-lookers that their tasks were no more difficult than standing guard at high noon on a peaceful day.
When the sun stood high overhead, the noble pair agreed to pause so that each might eat and drink in order to return refreshed to fight. Memnon sat among the Trojans facing Achilles who sat among the Greeks facing Memnon. While they were each congratulated and praised by their comrades, receiving wine or water and massages on their shoulders and along their spines and arms, they met each other's war-like gaze and smiled boyishly, each in honour of his admired equal.
Meanwhile, on near-by Mount Ida, the two divinities sat relieved that their sons were both still fighting strong. They had held each other through the long part of the early day but now sat apart, no longer at ease with each other. Finally Thetis spoke, anxiously breaking the uncomfortable silence. "Your son fights well."
"As does yours."
Each thanked the other for her praise, then sat in silence again for a long space of time, until Thetis, defeating a foe of her own, made her feelings known. "Why are we silent, Eos? Why should we, who have loved each other since before humanity, sit in such discomfort when now we each so desperately need the other's comfort? The answer is simple. I fear for the life of my son, and you for the life of yours. We are not being selfish; we are being mothers. It is right for us to care for our sons. Can we not love our sons who are enemies without being enemies ourselves? Let us continue to care for each other, especially now. Such a feat may be impossible for mortals, but is it also impossible for divinities such as ourselves?"
"Thetis, whom I have always loved as a sister, you have rightly noted our fears, at least in part. And if that were all my fear, I would be foolish to be silent with you now. But that is not all I fear, and the thought of telling you makes me fear all the more."
"Darling Dawn, let me know your fears so that I may do what I can to free you from them."
"I do not fear only the death of my son, a prospect that already tortures me beyond what I can bare. I also fear the death of your son, Thetis, for if Achilles is lost and Memnon lives, how can you and I still be close? I will have my son to love, and you will have me to watch while I love him. How will you continue to love me knowing that I love my son who killed yours? Will your love not turn on me? Are you able to imagine that I would love you if my son were lost to yours?"
"You may be right, my dear. Our sons' battle may decide even the value of our love, but consider this: my son is destined to die in this war. If he defeats Memnon, he will live for days only. Your son, too, like so many on both sides, is destined to perish at Troy, whether at Achilles' hands or at the hands of someone else. But you and I will have each other always. Rather than turning away, we can comfort each other in our pending losses. Let us rejoice that neither our sons' deaths nor their lives will separate us. What is more, look at their thoughts. They would both mourn the loss of the other, even though they don't realize it, for they, out of all those on the face of the earth, are equally matched; they are valued friends. What a blessed thing for us to see: our sons friends as we are friends."
"You have spoken with the wisdom of all the gods, Thetis. Yes, we will wait together, mourn together, and comfort each other in time, but we will always love each other. There is now only the sting of the sword for us to endure--may it be swift--and we shall endure it together."
But Thetis's thoughts were not with Dawn. "My delightful Dawn, listen to me carefully while my mind chases an idea. Both our sons are doomed, one now, one later. They are equally matched, and Zeus has augmented their skills to serve the divinities. One must win, and none, save Zeus himself and the Fates, knows who. Does anyone need to know?"
"When the end is come, all will know."
"Does it need to end?"
"You would have them fight eternally, Thetis?"
"You would have your son die?"
"If it were in my power to grant, I would have Memnon live until my time to pass is come and long since gone, but not like that! In eternal battle? Perish the thought! How could such a childish wish be made, anyway? They must fight; they must die; that has been ordained."
"Not so, Eos. Not so. What has been ordained is that Troy will fall and that neither Memnon nor Achilles will see it. If they fight forever elsewhere, that ordinance will still be accomplished, will it not?"
"Why, yes, I believe it will, Thetis, but how can we will our sons to fight for all eternity, Thetis? That is no burden for sons such as ours to bare."
"Why, Eos, you are so torn within that you examine this scene with mortal eyes rather than with your own. Now, consider: The fact that they will participate in an eternal battle does not mean that they will battle eternally; the divinities are not so very different from mortals as you allow yourself to imagine. Our deeds are greater by far, but still very much the same as theirs. Where they care deeply, we care much more deeply; where they care little, we care not at all; where they love mightily, we love infinitely; where they burn in anger, we incite them to war; where they war for a while; we war forever, but where they take time to reclaim their strength . . ."
"The eternals take far more time."
"Yes. In fact, we recline in great leisure so that humanities' most innocuous prayers make us groan with burden. So in eternity, when our beloved sons break from battle . . ."
"It will be we who rub their shoulders and backs and encourage them . . . and love them!"
"Indeed."
"Oh, Thetis, what hope you have given me! But what shall we do? Zeus has forbidden every eternal from clasping his knees in supplication for the mortals in these final days of Troy."
"We must try. If he will not receive us, fine, but there is a chance that he will. Let us go now to Zeus to plead for our two sons. We must be submissive, reasonable, suppliant, humble, and determined as we make our demands. We must complete our task before our sons return to battle. Hurry! Come!"
Away to Olympus they fled and were instantly admitted into Zeus's presence. They approached his throne with stoic countenances until they reached the foot. Then, falling to their knees, the two spoke at once their earnest entreaties, each pleading for the life of her son and for the life of her friend's son; each trying to explain their plan; neither succeeding. Zeus, with his sceptre in hand and his golden eagle at his side, smiled at them, raising his palm, trying to calm and quiet his subjects, to do his best to listen and to attain the floor: "Ladies, ladies, please be silent a moment. Allow me to speak. Allow me to show my favour to you and be generous. I have seen your sorrows; I have watched you dry the eyes of the other; I saw you share your fears openly with each other, ponder the strength of your bond and swear continued fealty despite the hated outcomes that have been set. Do you not understand that love such as you have shown for each other, even before it occurred to you to ask me to spare your two sons' lives, is the love that pleases Heaven? If you had been here as well as there, you would have seen how my servants wept with joy to see such love. I, too, was deeply moved, weeping with them. Such love has no equal; it has earned you my earnest desire to grant your petitions for love's sake.
"Glorious Thetis, because you love Eos so well, you have accomplished for your son something greater by far than bathing him in the River Styx; your attempt to wash away his humanity would have proved vain, but you chose a better route. Dearest Dawn, out of greater fear and less hope than Thetis had, you trusted correctly in coming to me, and your courage spared the life of your son. Both Achilles and Memnon will live as you have requested. Now, both of you return together to Ida to see what I shall do for you and for your magnificent sons."
Together with great, full smiles, they returned to Ida and sat arm-in-arm just in time to see their sons rise together, don their glorious armour, take up their shining swords, and greet each other's eyes for battle. They made no boasts, no taunts, no jabs or jibes, but, refreshed, once again sized the other up for long moments, neither striking nor retreating, waiting to block the blow of his foe. Circling the other. Waiting. Circling. Speeding, finally spinning around a common center. Raising their shields, their swords, and a great cloud of dust so that every spectator covered his eyes as each had earlier covered his ears, still the fighting pair continued to raise the dead dust. Eventually, the crowd heard the clashing of sword on shield, but none knew whose sword or whose shield. There was another blow, and another, and still another until the sounds of clashes reflected the beatings of powerful wings, dispersing the assembly as the dust quickly became a twisting storm. At a distance, the men were able to witness an enormous pillar of dense dust rising from the earth, when finally, the pillar itself was lifted from the ground, rising high into the sky, until it was lost to view for the distance and the sunlight.
On the ground, the men who had stood gazing upwards for many moments, finally came silently together again on the spot where the two mighty warriors, each a battalion unto himself, were last seen. There was nothing but a crater in the sand, knee-deep at the center, the width of some twenty horses.
As he had augmented their skill, so also Zeus augmented the size of the cloud that hid the heroes, and he carried them up and away, Trojan, Greek, and cloud, setting them in the heavens, among the stars, within the scabbard of distant Orion's mighty sabre. There, on fair evenings and holidays, Greece's gods and goddesses amicably assemble to study the skills of the heroes, or simply to watch their fight, or to gamble on the outcome, or, with some, to debate the merits or flaws of the techniques, weapons, fighting styles, or even the boasts of the two great warriors.
