Monday, May 20, 2019

4.09: Your Mind Is Not Your Own

1193 BCE - Outside the walls of Troy

The delegates left the main road into Troy and walked towards the beach where the majority of their fleet was moored. Agamemnon had promised Odysseus that he would do everything possible to find a peaceful resolution, but it had become clear in the throne room that, with Iphigenia’s death, war had become a foregone conclusion in Agamemnon’s mind. Artemis’s insane demands had driven Agamemnon from hawkish diplomacy to belligerent suicidality, fanning the flames of Athena’s war. The whole thing felt too convenient.


Odysseus weighed the merit of simply breaking his oath and returning home. Athena had threatened to punish him for disobedience, but with Adresteia in his corner, he wasn’t sure she could. On the other hand, Odysseus might well be overestimating Adresteia’s chances against her. Athena was the goddess of war – Adresteia might not come out on top, and even if she did, she might be seriously hurt in the process. And if nothing else, Adresteia could not protect Odysseus’s whole family at once, and Athena would go after his children as readily as pawns on a game board.

So, Odysseus was stuck. His only direction was forward; he would have to fight the war and win. The longer winning took, the longer he was away from his family, and the less likely it was he would return to them.

As Agamemnon and Hermes headed to the altars that the Greeks had prepared on the beach, it was Menelaus who finally broke into Odysseus’s thoughts.

“You don’t believe her, right, Odysseus?”

“What? Believe who?” Odysseus’s first thought was Athena, but that obviously wasn’t what Menelaus meant.

“Helen; my wife.”

“Are you worried I think you’re weak and impotent?” Odysseus asked, “I always thought your ability to not care what others think of you was one of your best attributes.”

“That’s not… I’m worried that she thinks I am. That can’t be right.”

“It is what she said,” Odysseus pointed out, “to your face.”

A woman’s voice came from behind them, “But the way she said it raises some questions, doesn’t it?”

Menelaus jumped a little at Adresteia’s sudden appearance in human form, but wasn’t too baffled by it. He’d seen her transform from an owl into her god-like form during an unfortunate encounter with Artemis years ago. Since then he’d become something of a fan.

“Lady Nemesis,” Menelaus bowed slightly as they walked, “Thank you, that’s exactly what I was trying to say. I’ve never seen Helen act so submissive, so… servile. I know women abandon their husbands sometimes, and no man ever thinks it will be his wife, but what woman would leave a marriage where they have a voice and a will, to go to a disgraceful sham of a relationship where they feel compelled to stare at the floor and have their words fed to them?”

“She was happy with you?” Odysseus said.

“Yes, of course.”

“Never any fights?” he asked.

“We argued like any married couple responsible for a kingdom,” Menelaus said, “And neither of us accepts defeat gracefully, but in ten years of marriage, I could have counted the nights we slept apart on one hand. Discounting travel. I mean, obviously...”

“Did you ever hit her?” Odysseus asked.

“That’s an asinine question,” Adresteia said, “That’s like asking if you’ve ever hit me.”

“I didn’t ask if he ever hurt her,” Odysseus pointed out.

“Wait… you two do know then?” Menelaus asked.

“That Helen is at very least a demigod?” Odysseus asked, “Yeah, I thought we covered that months ago talking in my field.”

Menelaus looked relieved, “I’m telling you, I could never make Helen do anything she didn’t want to, and I've never tried. I’ve loved her since we were children, back when we were both ugly ducklings. You don’t spend decades trying to win someone’s affection and respect if you’re expecting to change them.”

“I think some people do,” Odysseus said, “But if nothing else, yes, I’ll concede that her behavior tonight was far out of character, even given the exceptional circumstances. They must have some means of controlling her.”

“It can’t be a threat of physical violence,” Menelaus said, “Helen could pull Paris’s arms out and strangle him with them.”

“And it’s not as if they could be credibly threatening you or your daughter,” Odysseus said, “Even if the Trojans had some sort of leverage like that, what would be the point?”

“It must be magic, right?” Menelaus pleaded for some sane explanation.

“Well don’t look at me,” Odysseus nodded to Adresteia, “That’s her realm of expertise. Is it possible?”

“My kin are capable of putting thoughts in an untrained mind, but it’s like pouring salt into a moving stream. Such things are swiftly washed away.”

“I recall you mentioning that Aphrodite had some sort of poison…?” Odysseus treaded lightly in front of Menelaus out of respect for Adresteia’s privacy.

“Nothing like this,” Adresteia said, “her poison was just a strong sedative.”

“Hm,” Odysseus said, “Helen certainly wasn’t behaving like someone who was sedated.”

“No, she was behaving like an addict,” Agamemnon surprised them – they thought he’d been off talking to Hermes, but apparently he’d been quietly listening to their conversation.

“What?” Odysseus asked.

“You’ve had poppy tea, right?” Agamemnon said, “Ever had the really strong stuff?”

“Well, yeah,” Odysseus said, “Distillations from the poppy flower’s husk are what our healers use to manage pain. When I was a kid a mule kicked me and broke my arm. They gave me a dose to get me to stop screaming while they set the bone.”

“You ever see what happens when someone keeps taking that stuff?” Agamemnon asked.

“Who could afford to?” Odysseus said, “Tea is one thing, but  that concentrated stuff is expensive.”

“His wife,” Menelaus said sadly.

“Oh…” Odysseus felt bad for missing the subtext.

“Orestes's birth left Clytemnestra with a great deal of pain afterward, pain that would return as soon as she stopped taking the stuff. Prolonged use can make a person mad,” Agamemnon said, “First they think they can’t live without the stuff, then they really can’t live without it. I tried taking Clytemnestra’s supply away from her, but she’d do ridiculous things – dangerous, amoral, disgraceful things to get it back. And when she didn’t succeed, she got sick. Really sick. Sick enough I had to give the drug back to her.”

“You think they’ve gotten Helen hooked on poppy extract?” Menelaus asked.

“No,” Adresteia said, “But maybe Aphrodite’s found a way to make Paris have the same effect on her…”

“It can’t be something she’s done to Paris,” Odysseus said, “It’s not like the rest of his family was clinging to him.”

“Definitely not,” Agamemnon said, “For a moment I actually thought Priam was going to let me do that thing with the tides and the crabs.”

“The necklace!” Menelaus exclaimed, “Paris gave her a necklace the night before they ran off. Over a year later, she’s still wearing it – have you ever known any woman to wear one necklace for that long?”

The three men looked at Adresteia for confirmation.

"What the hell would I know about women’s fashion?" Adresteia shrugged, "I spend half my time as an owl.”

“Is it possible though?” Odysseus asked her.

Menelaus groaned and pounded his head, “Gods damn it, he wasn’t even subtle about it. That little ass-wipe outright told us Aphrodite had it made by Hephaestus to repay an old debt!”

“The apple affair,” Agamemnon nodded, “I knew there was something about that thing that whole thing that stank.”

“Aphrodite has more than a passing acquaintance with brain chemistry,” Adresteia said, “Between what she knows and what Hephaestus can do… yes, I’d say you’ve narrowed down the problem.”

“So, Adresteia,” Odysseus said, “I hate to put this all on you, but, is there any chance you could just swoop in as a bird when Helen’s at the market or sunbathing or something and just yank the necklace off of her?”

“I don’t think that is wise,” Adresteia said, “It could be much the same as King Agamemnon taking away his queen’s narcotics. We need Aphrodite to tell us how to reverse the charm’s effects before we remove it.”

“How do you force a goddess to do anything?” Menelaus asked.

“Well, yanking this city she’s holed up in out from under her would be a start,” Agamemnon said.

“You’re still determined to fight a war?” Odysseus shook his head.

“We’ll free Helen if we can,” Agamemnon said, “But this conflict has grown beyond a simple rescue mission. We’re committed now. Our credibility with our men would be completely lost if we run from this conflict and Athena would likely punish us for cowardice.”

"So, we're onto plan B then."

“We have over six hundred ships at our disposal. We can fully blockade Dardanus and Adramytium. We can's seal Troa's borders, but we can bottleneck their trade until it becomes unbareable. My offer to Priam stands – exclusive trade rights west of the Dardanelles. I know it’s a severe proposition, but if Priam finds he has to choose between that and no trade at all with the west, he’ll come back to the table.”

“That would be the rational decision,” Odysseus was pleased to see that Agamemnon seemed to be thinking with a clearer, cooler head. “We might be able to cut into their overland trade, too. Our army is large enough – if we can find some chokepoints east of Troy we can completely cut the city off. Addy? You’re the only one of us who can fly.”

“I’ll see you boys tomorrow morning,” she said as she transformed and took to the air, heading east.

“That’s still weird to see,” Agamemnon had done enough jobs for Athena he was in on the ‘big secret’ but Adresteia’s casual use of supernatural power still threw him.

“Troy depends on its farmlands,” Menelaus said, “If we can seize control of them, we can starve Priam’s army and feed our own.”

“I hate to depend on enemy helots to feed our men,” Odysseus pointed out.

“We won’t keep all of our eggs in one basket,” Agamemnon said, “Once we get the blockade established, our next goal should be to set up a naval supply chain, to bring resources from Greece if necessary.”

“You know, if we’re wanting to wait out the Trojans in a siege, it might help to set up a rotation. We left plenty of men in Greece; if this whole incident stretches on too long, maybe we can start sending the men here home, and replacing them with the men we left behind. We can cycle them. It’ll keep our men fresh, and frustrate the Trojans who’ll be stuck right where they are for the duration.”

“While I’m not oblivious to the fact that you’re setting up an excuse to go see your wife every few months,” Agamemnon said, “It’s still a good plan. We can discuss logis…”

Agamemnon froze mid-sentence, mouth agape as he stared past the beach at the ocean. Odysseus and Menelaus turned to see what he was looking at, and immediately fell silent as well. The ocean was retreating. It was as if the tide had started going out and then decided not to stop. Row by row their moored galleys descended to the ocean floor and were left in the soft sand of the now uncovered sea floor. Some landed unevenly or hit rocks and capsized, spilling equipment and supplies out on the wet sand.

The water receded until it was but a thin band on the horizon, behind hundreds of useless ships. The men nervously waited for all of that water to come rushing back in, expecting it to violently destroy their fleet, but that moment didn’t come – the sea did not return.

“What the hell?” Menelaus wondered aloud, “Is that a thing that happens here?”

A nearby horse knickered at them, snapped its tie off, and cantered towards them. As it moved it grew and transformed, until the common horse had been replaced by a terrifying sight – Poseidon. Odysseus never realized how generous their artists were when depicting him. Most of Zeus’s siblings were more or less human looking, but evidently Poseidon had aged in his time beneath the waves. His skin was mottled and lightly spiked, like that of a starfish. What Odysseus first took to be black hairs on Poseidon’s head and body, he quickly realized were the spines of a sea urchin, resting flat. Even his chest-length black beard was made of the spines, which rattled as he walked towards them.
The men knelt reverently before Poseidon, and Odysseus begged to know what offense they were guilty of, such that he’d chosen to strand all of their ships.

“It’s nothing personal mates,” Poseidon said, “You Greeks always seemed like good lads, but when I built Troy’s walls, I guaranteed they’d never fall. Now, I could kill you all right now – a snap of my finger and I could bring all of that water back and then some, but for now, I figure forcing you Greeks to fight fair is enough meddling.”

“Fight fair?” Agamemnon asked.

“Aye, if the Trojans can’t leave, neither can you. Not unless it’s all of you going.”

“What?”

“Oh, I think this siege will soon grow old for all of you. When it does, and you decide you’ve got the good sense to turn around and go home, entreat me with a suitably impressive offering and I’ll bring the water back long enough for you to leave Troy’s shores. Until then, you might take this opportunity to search for sea shells. You’ll need something shiny to fill your holds when you go home.”

With that Poseidon transformed into a twisting column of salty water that shot into the sky like a geyser, then coalesced into a sea bird and flew off.

“Well…” Odysseus sighed, “Crap.”

***


Athena joined Poseidon at the far end of the dry seafloor where he was admiring his mystical levy.

“It will take a great deal of my power to maintain this barrier,” Poseidon said, “Even with the Trojan’s prayers giving me strength, I will have little else to spare.”

“You needn’t worry about that,” Athena said, “Just keep the Greeks here and the rest will fall into place.”

“This is a dangerous game we play,” Poseidon said.

“It’s more dangerous for some of us, than for others,” Athena said, “You’re too powerful for Zeus to attack. You only need our help to remove the margin of uncertainty.”

“I know I look like an old fool,” Poseidon said, “But I still recognize superficial flattery when I hear it. You’d do well to leave such simple manipulations to your aunt, Aphrodite.”

 Athena nodded.

“Where should Hera and I rule, do you think?” Poseidon asked, “Once Zeus is dealt with, should I move into the Constellar Palace? Should she join me in my kingdom? Or should we recognize our impending marriage for the political contrivance that it is, and continue to rule from our respective homes?”

“I think it would look badly for the goddess of marriage if she did not join her new husband in his home.”

“Ah, very true,” Poseidon said. “And then the Constellar Palace would be yours to attend to, I suppose?”

“Others will have seats beside me, if they can prove themselves trustworthy.”

“Well, good luck then,” Poseidon said, “Good luck to all of us.”



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