The Land of the Dead (continued) — Ajax, Achilles, and Agamemnon
💡 This is a chapter from The Wanderings of Odysseus, by C. Witt & F. Younghusband ← Go there to read the full book free online; it is also available in paperback and Kindle editions.
Among the shadows, Odysseus saw many a brave hero who had fallen, fighting against Troy; but how great was his sorrow and surprise when he recognized in their midst King Agamemnon, who had conquered the city in triumph and had set sail for Greece, covered with glory and honor.
As soon as he had been restored to consciousness by a draught of the blood, Odysseus asked him whether his ship had sunk on the way home or whether he had been slain by enemies in a strange country.
But he answered, “Neither did I perish at sea, nor was it in any strange land that my enemy slew me. He who murdered me was Aegisthus, my near relation. My own cousin it was, who, in league with my wife, slew my companions and myself also. Hardly had I set foot in my beloved country, when he treacherously invited me to a banquet, and there slew me as men slay an ox eating his food at the manger. Thou too hast faced death in many forms, both alone, and when in battle whole ranks of men are mowed down together. But never can it to thee have appeared so horrible as to us when we lay covered with mortal wounds on the bloody ground, strewn with drinking vessels, food, and tables overturned. There I died, whilst my unnatural wife looked on and rejoiced. No pity had she — nor even when life had left me, did she shut my mouth or close my staring eyes. But thou, Odysseus, art secure against so sad a fate, for thy wife, Penelope, is true and good. A young wife we left her when we went to the war, holding in her arms her little son, who must now be a grown man. How he will rejoice to welcome back his father and press him to his heart! But my wife pitilessly wrought my destruction, yea, even before I could so much as look upon the face of my only son!”
After this, there came by a number of noble shadow forms, amongst whom were Achilles and his friend Patroclus, the mighty Ajax, and Antilochus, the son of the wise old Nestor.
When Odysseus had caused himself to be recognized by Achilles, he said, “Truly mayest thou, Achilles, be praised as the happiest of men, for while thou wast alive we honored thee as a god, and even here among the dead all the bravest heroes follow thee wherever thou goest.”
But Achilles answered, “That is but poor comfort. I tell thee that I would rather be in the Upper World, the slave of the poorest man alive, than a king here among the dead. But give me news of those I have left behind. My son Neoptolemus, does he maintain the honor of my name? And how fares it with my father Peleus, now that I am no longer able to protect him?”
“Of Peleus,” replied Odysseus, “have I heard nothing; but thy son has proved himself worthy of so great a father. In the camp before Troy he was ever one of the best in council, and in the battle he was no coward, hiding amongst the crowd, but always in the front of the fight, and woe to the enemy who crossed his path! When we were in the wooden horse, many a hero grew pale and trembled, but he —with his spear in one hand and his sword hilt in the grasp of the other— was only impatient to leap forth from the horse and rush on the enemy. And when the city of Priam was sacked and a great booty was taken, he did not fail to receive his rightful share, and an extra portion besides, as an honorable distinction. Not once, moreover, was he wounded, but whole and unscathed he returned to his home.” The heart of Achilles was filled with joy at these good tidings, and he passed on with proud steps.
The followers of Achilles, who had accompanied him to the place where Odysseus was standing, greeted the hero as old friends — only the mighty Ajax stood aloof in sullen silence, with his eyes turned away from him, for he still remembered with vexation how Odysseus had been preferred to himself in the competition for the arms of Achilles.
Meeting him thus again in the Land of Shades, Odysseus was filled with desire to appease his anger and addressed him in friendly tones. “Dost thou still in death, Ajax, retain thine anger against me,” he said, “on account of those ill-starred weapons? Not mine was the fault. It was the will of the gods to punish us, and therefore did they stir up strife between us. Otherwise could we not have quarreled, for thou wast ever to us a tower of strength in the battle, and we mourned for thee, even as for Achilles. Put away thy wrath, Ajax, and come nearer to me.” But Ajax answered nothing and, still nursing his anger, disappeared among the other shadows.
Before he left the Lower World, Odysseus saw also the punishments reserved for those who had been guilty during their lifetime of great wickedness. There lay the giant Tityus, with his huge body stretched out over nine acres of land; upon it were seated two vultures who continually pecked at his liver and ate it — and every time they did so, the flesh closed over the place, and the liver grew again. There stood Tantalus — tortured with unceasing hunger and thirst — in water that reached up to his knees, and close to trees that almost dropped their fruits into his mouth; but whenever he tried to pluck the fruit, the boughs raised themselves up into the air beyond his reach, and, whenever he put down his mouth to drink the water, it flowed away from him into the earth. There too was Sisyphus, toiling up the side of a mountain with a great mass of rock which he was trying to roll to the top. He had been commanded to convey it thither and hurl it over the brow, but, every time he had almost reached the summit and began to hope that his labor would soon be at an end, the stone bounded away from him, and, with a sound like thunder, rolled back to the bottom of the mountain.
Suddenly, the crowd of shadows which surrounded Odysseus seemed to become more agitated than before, and he, fearing that Persephone was about to bring before them one of the sights of horror which no mortal could face —not even the bravest— told his companions that they would return at once to the ship. Their joy at hearing this announcement was great, but greater still was their satisfaction when they found themselves fairly out of the land of darkness and could once more look upon the light of the sun.