NEOPTOLEMOS

They came for me in their mighty warships with painted prows and streaming battle flags.

Odysseus and my father's tutor were the ones.

They came with a story, true or a lie, that the G.o.ds had decreed, since my father had died, that I alone could storm Troy's walls.

So they said.

You can be sure that I lost no time in gathering my things and sailing with them, out of love for my father, whom I wanted to see before the earth swallowed him.

I had never seen him alive.

And I would be proved brave if I captured Troy.

We had a good wind. In two days we made bitter Sigeion.

A ma.s.s of soldiers raised a cheer, saying dead Achilles still walked among them.

They had not yet buried him.

I wept for my father. And then I went to the Atreids, my father's supposed friends, as was fitting, and I asked for my father's weapons and his other things.

They said with feigned sorrow, "Son of Achilles, you may have the other things, but not Achilles's weapons.

Those now belong to Laertes's son."

I leapt up then, crying in grief and anger, and said, "You b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, how dare you give the things that are mine to other men without asking me first?"

Then Odysseus, who happened to be there, said, "Listen, boy.

What they did was right. After all, I was the one who rescued them and your father's body."

Enraged, I cursed him with all the curses I could think of, leaving nothing out, curses that would be set in motion if he were truly to rob me.

Odysseus is not a quarrelsome man, but what I said stung him. He replied, "Boy, you're a newcomer. You have been at home, out of harm's way. You judge me too harshly.

You cannot keep a civil tongue.

For all that, you will not take his weapons home."

You see, I took abuse from both sides. I lost the things that were mine, and I sailed home.

Odysseus, the b.a.s.t.a.r.d son of b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, robbed me. But I blame him less than the generals.

They rule whole cities and a mighty army.

Bad men become so by watching bad teachers.

I have told you all. May he who hates the Atreids be as dear to the G.o.ds as he is to me.

CHORUS

O mountainous, all-nourishing Mother Earth, Mother of Zeus, our lord, himself, you who range the golden Paktolos, Mother of pain and sorrow, I begged you, Blessed Mother, borne by bull-slaying lions, on that day when the arrogant Atreids insulted him, when they gave away his weapons to the son of Laertes.

Hail, G.o.ddess, the highest object of our awe.

PHILOKTETES

You have sailed here, clearly, with a just cause of pain.

Your share of grief almost matches mine. What you say harmonizes with what I know of them--- the evil doings of the Atreids and Odysseus.

I know that Odysseus spins out lies with his evil tongue, which he uses to create all manner of injustice; he brings no good to pa.s.s, I know.

Still, it amazes me to learn that Ajax, seeing these things, should permit them.

NEOPTOLEMOS

He is dead now, friend. If he lived, they would never have stolen the weapons from me.

PHILOKTETES

So Ajax, too, is dead.

NEOPTOLEMOS

Dead. Think of it.

PHILOKTETES

It saddens me. But the son of Tydeus, and Odysseus, whom Sisyphos, I have heard, sold to Laertes, they who merited death are still alive.

NEOPTOLEMOS

You are right, of course. They are flourishing.

They live in high glory among the Greeks.

PHILOKTETES

And my old friend, that honest man, Nestor of Pylos?

Does he still live?

He used to contain their evil with his wise counsel.

NEOPTOLEMOS

Nestor has fallen on evil times.

His son, Antilochos, who was with him, is dead.

PHILOKTETES

O!

You have told me of two deaths that hurt me most.

What can I hope for, now that Ajax and Antilochos are dead and in the ground, while Odysseus walks, while he should be the one who is dead?

NEOPTOLEMOS

That one is a clever wrestler. Still, even the clever stumble.

PHILOKTETES

Tell me, by the G.o.ds, how was it with Patroklos, your father's most beloved friend?

NEOPTOLEMOS

He was dead, too. I will tell you in a word what happened: War never takes a bad man on purpose, but good men always.

PHILOKTETES

You are right. Let me ask you, then, of one who is worthless, but cunning and clever with the words he uses.

NEOPTOLEMOS

You can mean only Odysseus.