marc_ladewig  

“The war was ten years old and Hector long
since killed by merciless Achilles,
spearing him before the eyes of all the Trojans,
father, mother, wife and child upon the walls,
their hero begging in the dust for nothing more
than honorable burial, his neck
and throat cut gaping red. Achilles,
hundreds slain by his strong hands, outraged when death
had gall to visit him and his, spent his grief
for friendship lost in further bloodshed,
slaying all, never taking prisoners,
avenging Patroclus without an end
or measure to his killing spree.
Some war to win their heart’s desire while some
war just to kill and only halt upon
their own raw death by sharp edged tearing bronze.

“Our spies announced a famous warrior
sought sanctuary behind the walls of Troy.
It was the Amazon Penthesileia,
for a killing banished by her people,
wanting now to fight against Achaean men.

“When battle came, Achilles sought her out
and spoke these taunting words before they fought,
‘Bitch, you push your sex beyond its use to cross
real men in war. In clawing cheeks
and pulling hair with other hags
your equal may not walk the earth from whores
to fishwives then. But here upon this hallowed ground,
where men train all their youth to test their fate
at arms, you will be beaten like a man,
then used as men use women. Piercings,
you shall find, bring pain, then pleasure. Gird yourself
to sigh then die by shaft and spear of son
of Peleus, hot, war-loving Achilles.’

“This said, and Penthesileia took off
her helmet, letting long red hair tumble to
her shoulders. Fearlessly she looked Achilles
in the eye and spoke these words, ‘We Amazons
as well devote our youths to train for war.
We fight because we know that strife is life’s
deep law, yet take no joy in slaughter only.
Killing is required on earth this life.
The heart that kills in rage is not
the better fighter; even lions,
hunger slaked, permit the deer to pass unharmed.
Glutton, killing more than need requires,
are you the only mortal ever lost
a friend to war? Murderous baby,
suck death at my sweet tit. You’ll find my grace
and speed a match and more to vicious,
overweening brawn this day. I’m Penthesileia,
Otrere’s girl.’

“She donned her helmet, crimson horse hair plume
shaking terribly, and raised her shield and spear.
Achilles laughed and let her come ahead at will.
She gathered for a mighty cast and threw
as if the north wind backed her throw.
Achilles braced to take the spear upon
his ox-hide shield and even flinched,
anticipating puncture. The spear flew
from her hand as if miscast. It made
a lazy arc and stuck in earth between
the legs of murderous Achilles,
slicing deep his left instep.

“Penthesileia spoke these words, ‘First blood.
But you must be a darling of your gods
or else your foot were pierced and pinned. Now throw
your bloody spear. I’ll take you full upon
my never penetrated shield.’

“Achilles roared in pain, shamed by Trojan taunts
his first and only wound in war was woman made,
and answered her in raging words and sneered,
‘You missing piece! Now bear the brunt of sheer force.’

“He cast and sent his spear along with curses.
Penthesileia took the blow upon
her shield just off dead center on the boss.
The tearing bronze struck sparks on gold,
deflecting downward, sticking in her shield.

“She threw again and skipped her spear off of a stone.
It flew directly at his groin. Achilles
knelt and caught her spear upon the lower rim
of his shield. Penthesileia followed hard
before he rose and threw a knife.
It struck the helmet of Achilles right
between the eyes and clattered to the ground,
the point now bent.

“She tried to shake her shield free of the long spear
Achilles planted there and then he was
upon her shield to shield. He knocked her down
and grabbed his spear both hands and worked
the awful blade completely through the layers
till the tip was at her throat.

“By now his Myrmidons had joined the fray
and ringed him towering over Penthesileia
to shield their king from Trojan darts and spears.
Achilles leaned upon the blade until
it pierced the skin and blood ran down her throat
in a rivulet. Penthesileia
dropped her hands and faced her death with open eyes.
Achilles threw the spear and shield away
and kneeling, laid his sword across her throat
and spoke these taunting words of ceaseless hate,
‘How glorious for you, this death at my strong hands.
Your pride has pushed you from your proper place.
A woman’s chain should stretch no further from
the bed than takes to reach the kitchen fire.
You’ve matched your strength with mine and found it wanting.
Yield and maybe you will live.’

“Penthesileia removed her helmet then
and answered him in yielding words and said,
‘Force has conquered skill this sorry day and that
is rightly what all men should mourn. I yield
and call myself your supplicant. I beg
you treat me with all honor due a worthy foe.
In all your strong encounters killing hundreds,
only I drew blood against you here.
Priam will pay a kingly ransom for me.’

“He only laughed and bid some henchmen hold her down.
Two grabbed her wrists and dug their heels into
her ears and armpits, arching back; two others
took her by the ankles then. Achilles
beat and raped her while the army cheered him on.
The Trojans could not break our wall of shields
to get her back. She never closed her eyes
nor cried out once, not even when he cut
her throat. He rose and sheathed his bloody sword
and how the fighters hooted when he raised
his arms in triumph there.

“Now that dog Thersites, always handy with
a taunt or jibe, snuck up behind and gouged
her staring eyes out with his spear.
Achilles turned and saw the deed and flew
into a rage. He struck Thersites hard
upon the jaw and smashed the bone and sent
three rotten teeth flying from his mouth.
That ancient, pesky gadfly, hated most
of all Achaean fighters by our kings,
now crossed his eyes in death and blood drained from
his nose and ears, stretched out beside
poor Penthesileia.

“The army stopped its cheering then
and clash of battle sounded far away.
One soldier booed and this set off the rest.
Achilles reveled in their scorn, or so
he tried to show. The world now mirrored all
the hate that filled his anguished heart.
His killing now included his own kind,
the least perhaps in leading eyes,
but hideous Thersites always spoke
the scorn that common fighters held in heart
but feared to say aloud. He often claimed
he did not have a thing to lose but life
itself and only feared the lies of kings.

“Achilles now put on his fabled war gear.
Striding out between the gathered armies,
roaring like a famished lion there,
he challenged any Trojan willing, meet
him one on one. The common ranks retreated,
shrinking back like broken waves.

“Now Paris, thief of love, fit a poison arrow
to his bow, and, safe behind a wall of shields,
let fly at murderous Achilles.
The coward’s aim was true as his heart was false.
The arrow stuck into the heel
exactly where his mother Thetis held
him as she dipped Achilles in
the river Styx to render him invulnerable.
Poison hit his blood and raced throughout
his body to his heart. The mightiest
man-killer of them all clutched his chest
and foaming at the mouth, now dropped stone dead
upon his chin to Mother Earth.

“The Trojans cheered and wept real tears of false relief.
Achaean fighters gnashed their teeth in disbelief,
some sinking to their knees in fear at what
would happen next.

Marc Ladewig
Author of Odysseus-The Epic Myth of the Hero