394. mvp-comment-157-1 10.394 θοὴν διὰ νύκτα μέλαιναν We find this phrase also at Iliad 10.468, 24.366, and 24.653. In Iliad 24, the formula is used during Priam’s infiltration of the Achaean camp, and is associated particularly with the danger of his mission. Thus this formula as a whole seems to be connected with the ambush theme. (See “The Poetics of Ambush” and the commentary above on 10.1ff. on how Priam’s mission to retrieve the body of Hektor shares in the ambush theme.) Night is also “swift” at Iliad 12.463 and 14.261 and Odyssey 12.284. Hainsworth (1993 ad loc.)has tentatively suggested that the phrase may have been composed by analogy with θοὴν ἐπὶ νῆα μέλαιναν (which also occurs in the dative with other prepositions). Certainly these examples suggest that the structure of the phrase is deeply ingrained in the traditional diction and that the adjectives “swift” and “black” go naturally together. But what about night is swift? And is “swift” even the correct definition of θοός? The scholia in the Venetus A, Venetus B, and Townley (T) manuscripts on these lines offer possible associations, such as how quickly the sky becomes black after the sun has set. The T scholia here also note several other possible meanings of θοός besides “swift,” including “pointed” (see Chantraine 1968/1999 s.v. θοός), and discuss the angle of the earth in relation to the sun, which results in shadows with angles that are “sharp” and make night “cone-shaped.” Another possible definition of θοή offered by the B and T scholia is “the placer”: τὴν θετικήν— ἀποτίθησι γὰρ ἡμᾶς εἰς ἀνάπαυλαν (“the placer—for it places us into a state of repose”). This definition associates θοή with the verb τίθημι. The question was considered from a cosmological perspective by the ancient Homeric scholar and philosopher Crates of Mallos, who accepted “swift” (see Eustathius ad 10.394 and Mette 1952:55ff.) and related it to the speed of the sun and the night.

396-399. mvp-comment-158-1 10.396–399 Repetition is normal and natural within the system of oral composition-in-performance in which the Iliad was composed, and these lines repeat Hektor’s charge for the spying mission at 10.309–312. Each of the lines 10.397–399 is marked with an obelos in the Venetus A: see on 10.51–52 for the Alexandrian scholarly practice of athetesis. The scholia, however, tell us that there is some dispute about whether Aristarchus indeed meant for the obeloi to be placed here: one scholion says that they should be, if we can trust the work of the scholar Ammonios. The second scholion informs us both that, in the work of the scholar Nemesion, he states that no reason for the obeloi is found in the hupomnēmata of Aristarchus, and that the work of Ammonios says that Aristarchus did place those signs in the margin, but in the end took them out. All of this serves as a reminder that we have access to Aristarchus’ work only as mediated by his successors.

396-399. mvp-comment-158-2 The scholia also inform us that there are recorded differences in how this particular repetition operates: in the version in the main text of the Venetus A, Dolon has changed the person of the verb from Hektor’s third person—find out whether they are making plans—to the second person—find out whether you are making plans—now that Dolon is speaking to those on whom he was intending to spy. (This change seems to be the reason why 10.398 also has the critical mark of a diplē next to it in the Venetus A, which indicates a comment about the language used.) We can compare 10.409–411, where Odysseus repeats the questions that Nestor had given as the charge for their mission. He retains the third-person plural verbs that refer to the Trojans (those lines are marked with obeloi and also with asterisks in the Venetus A, indicating that they are repetitions). The A main scholia indicate that it should still be the third person here, while the intermarginal scholia note that in other manuscripts these verbs are indeed in the third person. If we compare this type of repetition to messengers delivering their message, however, we do find that a pronoun change often happens. For example, when Zeus sends Dream to Agamemnon, he orders him using imperatives and the third-person pronoun for Agamemnon (e.g. “Tell him to arm the Achaeans, who have beautiful hair,” Iliad 2.11), but when Dream speaks to Agamemnon, he uses indicative verbs and the second person (“He has told you to arm the Achaeans, who have beautiful hair,” Iliad 2.28), keeping all other words the same. Similar changes naturally happen, as we can see also at Iliad 9.157, where Agamemnon is speaking about Achilles in the third person, and Iliad 9.299, where Odysseus is delivering the message to Achilles himself. The formulas have such flexibility.

396-399. mvp-comment-158-3 This phenomenon seen within repeated passages and the disagreement over whether it is the second or third person in 10.398 suggests that this passage is in fact playing on the conventional repetition by messengers. Dolon, after all, was supposed to gather information about the Achaeans and report it back to Hektor. He is not a messenger, and therefore he was not supposed to repeat Hektor’s words to anyone else. When Odysseus likewise repeats Nestor’s questions (10.409–411), he is in the process of obtaining the answers he seeks, not confessing what he was sent to find out, as Dolon is. We noted above (10.314–315) that there is an implicit contrast between Dolon the spy and his father the herald, and here, when Dolon repeats what Hektor asked him to find out, he seems to be doing so more in the mode of the herald he was not supposed to be.

399. mvp-comment-159-1 10.399 καμάτῳ ἀδηκότες See our discussion of this phrase on 10.98.

400. mvp-comment-160-1 10.400 τὸν δ᾽ ἐπιμειδήσας προσέφη πολύμητις Ὀδυσσεύς The detail of a facial expression within this formulaic reply introduction raises important questions about how such formulas work. We can compare 10.382 and see the same line with only the change of ἐπιμειδήσας for ἀπαμειβόμενος: if the singer uses this facial expression in this context, we have the opportunity to ask what meaning it brings with it. (See Beck 2005 for speech and reply introductions in general. It is important to note that p425 records ἀπαμειβόμενος in this line: see our textual commentary on that papyrus.)

400. mvp-comment-160-2 Smiles that are not spontaneous reactions of joy carry particular meanings within a culture and within a context, and our task in interpreting this line is to decode the meaning of Odysseus’ smile. We might start by asking whether Dolon can see him smile in the dark or whether this smile is for the audience’s “view” only. Another question is whether this verb here means ‘smiling’, or ‘laughing’ (as some have translated it). One potential problem with such translations is that our own cultural expectations as to what is appropriate to the situation may affect what we interpret as smiling and what as laughing, while the traditional audience may have had different expectations. Halliwell (2008:520–529) has recently argued that ancient Greek has separate words for smiling (those with roots in μειδ[ ι] ᾶν) and laughing ( γελᾶν). He notes that there can be complications in classification of these verbs, but he nevertheless maintains a greater distinction between them than other scholars have, with an emphasis on the vocalization and therefore sound accompanying laughter. Following his distinctions, then, Odysseus’ smile here is silent, and because it occurs in the dark, as we interpret its meaning in this context, we must wonder whether Dolon himself sees it.

400. mvp-comment-160-3 To investigate what the smile means, we can look to other complete instances of this formulaic line, and also at other uses of the verb and its non-compound form μειδάω or μειδιάω, paying particular attention to Odysseus’ other smiles. Why take such an approach? Since oral poetry is composed in performance within a system of specialized grammar and specialized vocabulary (Lord 1960/2000:35–36), accounting for all the examples of how that vocabulary is deployed demonstrates how it operates within the system. The Iliad and Odyssey constitute our surviving “database” of the traditional language of this poetry, so we examine what data we have, while being cognizant of the fact that what has survived is a limited “data set” from a larger tradition (see e.g. Parry MHV 4, 9; Lord 1960/2000:47).

400. mvp-comment-160-4 When we examine the fifteen instances of μειδάω, the three instances of μειδιάω, and the four instances of ἐπιμειδάω in the two epics combined, we find that the gods smile eleven times and mortals eleven times. Odysseus smiles most often among mortals, although his status as the hero of the Odyssey may skew the frequency. As we might expect, many of these cases can be understood as smiles of affection between loved ones, whether mortal or immortal. But the complexity of the multiple possible cultural meanings of smiles can also be seen when Hera smiles twice, once at Aphrodite and once to herself ( Iliad 14.222–223) after successfully obtaining the alluring zōnē from Aphrodite without revealing her true purpose for it. These smiles seem to indicate deception and self-satisfaction, respectively. In another example, Ajax combines a smile with a grim expression ( Iliad 7.212) as he enters a duel with Hektor, presenting us with a menacing smile that reveals a desire for victory in battle. Halliwell (2008:55–58) describes this smile as one of “bloodlust” and cites Odysseus’ smile here as the closest parallel to it. And, of course, Odysseus’ famously described “sardonic smile” after he dodges the ox foot that Ktesippos throws at him ( Odyssey 20.301–302) conveys a nexus of emotions including contempt and a desire for revenge.

400. mvp-comment-160-5 These last two examples give us good comparisons for the context of this smile: instead of a smile between loved ones, we have also in this case a smile between or about enemies. When we look at the syntactical context of these verbs, we also see that they are used in speech introductions or reactions to speeches (five of the smiles happen in speech introductions; in thirteen cases, the smile comes in reaction to the words of another, either with no speech following or another line introducing the response; in four cases, the smile occurs in narrative between speeches). When we narrow our focus down to the compound form ἐπιμειδάω, which we have in this line, all four instances of this verb are part of the formula τὸν δ᾽ ἐπιμειδήσας προσέφη + epithet + name ( Iliad 4.356, Iliad 8.38, and Odyssey 22.371, the last of which matches exactly the line we have here). So smiling at someone within this specialized vocabulary is associated directly with speaking to that person.

400. mvp-comment-160-6 As we noted, Odysseus is the mortal who smiles most often in these two epics: here in this line and then three times in the Odyssey. All other mortals who smile with these verbs (Agamemnon, Hektor, Achilles, Menelaos, Telemakhos, Ajax, and Antilokhos) do so only once in our “database.” Odysseus is also most often the mortal smiled at (by Agamemnon, Telemakhos, Athena, and Kalypso) and is once the cause of the smile (Antilokhos). Again, this frequency may be a coincidence of having the Odyssey, Odysseus’ story, as one of the two epics we have to examine. But it does also seem to be part of his characterization, especially that he smiles at foes: the sardonic smile toward the suitors and the smile at Medon ( Odyssey 22.371), as well as his smile at Dolon here. In Levine’s (1984) analysis of Odysseus’ three smiles in the Odyssey, his argument is framed explicitly in terms of disproving “Parry’s insistence on economy as a basic principle of composition”; instead his approach, he claims, will show how to “determine one among a series of different meanings which could be attached to traditional language” (1). In other words, Levine sets up an opposition between Parry’s concept of thrift and the idea that a formula such as the one we see in this line can generate meaning in context. He concludes, “Since the psychology behind Odysseus’ smiles changes in accordance with the development of the narrative, we see how Homeric formulaic language can be charged with thematic meaning” (Levine 1984:8–9). Levine is focused in that article especially on the smiles of Odysseus at Odyssey 20.301, 22.371, and 23.111, but his arguments have been influential about smiles in Homeric epic in general, giving us an opportunity to reexamine Parry’s concept of thrift and how exactly formulaic language does generate meaning in context.

400. mvp-comment-160-7 Taking Parry’s idea of economy or thrift to mean that a formula does not respond to context is an all too common misunderstanding of it. Here is how Parry defines thrift: “The thrift of a system lies in the degree to which it is free of phrases which, having the same metrical value and expressing the same idea, could replace one another” (MHV, 276). We have already seen that ἐπιμειδήσας has the same metrical value as ἀπαμειβόμενος, so according to this definition, they do not express the same idea if they adhere to the principle of thrift. But the idea of thrift does not at all imply that the meaning of any one word is diminished, and that is what Levine seems to be arguing against. All Parry’s argument about the thrift of system is saying is that the system would not include another metrically equivalent word or phrase to mean ‘smiling’, not that smiles cannot mean different things in different contexts. (As discussed above at 10.41, if such a metrically equivalent word or phrase for smiling did exist, we would expect it to carry with it a difference in “idea,” such as tone, theme, or meaning).

400. mvp-comment-160-8 Levine explicitly says he is following those critics who have demonstrated “Homer’s relative freedom from the shackles of a traditional system” (1984:1). Yet Albert Lord has demonstrated in clear and straightforward terms that the singer is not shackled by the tradition, because he is the tradition. Formulas are the singer’s craft and he uses them in service to the song: “Indeed, it is easy to see that he employs a set phrase because it is useful and answers his need, but it is not sacrosanct. What stability it has comes from its utility, not from a feeling on the part of the singer that it cannot or must not be changed. It, too, is capable of adjustment. In making his lines the singer is not bound by the formula. The formulaic technique was developed to serve him as a craftsman, not to enslave him” (Lord 1960/2000:53–54). And as John Foley has persuasively argued throughout his work (1991, 1995, 1999, 2002), in oral traditional poetry such formulas accrue more meaning through time, not less, and, importantly, a particular instance is not limited to one among a series of meanings. A traditional singer and a traditional audience bring to the interpretation of this smile their recollections of all other instances of Odysseus smiling and of similar smiling situations, as represented by the formula of this speech introduction, in their understanding of what kind of smile it is. Because Levine’s arguments are based on false premises about thrift and how the formulaic, traditional language creates meaning, his distinctions about cases that exhibit “a greater sensitivity to plot movement and sophisticated composition” (Levine 1984:7) are deeply flawed. As Lord reminds us about oral traditional singing, “The complexity and artistry of the result are often surprising to anyone who feels that illiterate singers can produce only simple structures” (Lord 1960/2000:54).

400. mvp-comment-160-9 With an acknowledgement of the possibility of such artistry and complexity, then, we can return to our attempt to discover the traditional meaning underlying this particular smile. So far we have seen that within the system of Homeric poetry this smile should be interpreted in terms of Odysseus’ relationship (one of enmity) with and reaction to Dolon, and that it may be characteristic of Odysseus to smile in this way, but that we have to understand all of this from the standpoint of oral poetics. The closest parallel is the same speech introduction formula used in Odyssey 22.371, when Medon is asking Odysseus to spare his life and Odysseus smiles at him before reassuring him that he will do so. In an earlier article, Levine argues that reassurance is the meaning of this formulaic speech introduction: “The words τὸν/ τὴν δ᾽ ἐπιμειδήσας προσέφη always introduce speeches of reassurance. The essential meaning of this formula is ‘He smiled reassuringly at him/her.’ The facial expression so described is meant to have a calming effect” (Levine 1982:101). In the case of Medon, this seems to be so, as the speech that follows does indeed reassure him that he will live.

400. mvp-comment-160-10 In the case of Odysseus’ interrogation of Dolon, such an interpretation might make Odysseus the “good cop” to Diomedes’ “bad cop” (see below on 10.446 for Diomedes’ very different facial expression). Levine applies such a meaning to this case as well: “Odysseus smiles at a fearful Dolon (10.400) in order to calm his fears and have him continue his report” (Levine 1982:101). This interpretation assumes, of course, that Dolon can see Odysseus’ smile. Such a characterization of the speech that follows the introductory formula, as a speech of reassurance, applies better to Odysseus’ previous speech, when he does indeed begin by telling Dolon to take courage and put thoughts of death from his mind. That speech is introduced without the smile, however (10.382–383). Here, the beginning of the speech is Odysseus’ reaction to the thought of Dolon driving Achilles’ horses, and any reassuring Odysseus does is to assure Dolon that he has reached too far in thinking that he is worthy of such a prize.

400. mvp-comment-160-11 Should we take this smile to be one of amusement or derision, then, or what else might this tell us about Odysseus’ character? Levine compares Odyssey 22.371 with this line in asserting that both of these smiles express Odysseus’ “security and confidence in his superior position” (1984:6) and notes in his earlier work that victory and amusement are not mutually exclusive, but that a smile can, in fact, indicate both (1982:102). The smile as a sign of confidence seems to come closer to the situation in this line than does a notion of reassuring Dolon. Lateiner argues that Odysseus’ “smiles (especially the sardonic one [ Odyssey 20.301–302]) characterize menacing resources and mark each context as a significant, if ambivalent, moment” (1995:42). If that is so, what, then, would be the significance of this moment? Does Odysseus’ smile indicate that from Dolon’s initial response Odysseus knows he will get the information he wants from him? One more possible characterization: Corrine Pache, while agreeing with Levine’s argument that it is a speech of reassurance, focuses on Odysseus in the Iliad alone, and she notes that he is unlike other heroes in that he does not cry in this epic. That observation leads her to conclude that this smile “reveals gleeful indifference to the other man’s fate” (Pache 2000:19) and that Odysseus’ intentions when he smiles are “of the coldest and cruelest kind” (2000:20). In other words, if Odysseus can smile while Dolon begs for his life and blames Hektor for his predicament, does that indicate an emotional disengagement?

400. mvp-comment-160-12 In a traditional song culture, these varying interpretations are not necessarily mutually exclusive. Let us remember that this smile carries with it associations from past performances for the audience. So Odysseus’ smile could show his confidence that he has Dolon right where he wants him in terms of getting information out of him, his derision at the prospect of Dolon receiving the prize of Achilles’ horses, and an overall characterization of one who smiles at his enemies before taking vengeance upon them. The traditional nature of this introductory line can imbue it with greater meaning, yet for a singer singing in performance, the immediate context, what Dolon just said and what Odysseus was about to say, may have called for a smile from Odysseus related to these many meanings. (See Lord 1960/2000:54 for the reminder that “lines cannot be isolated from what precedes them.”) The meaning here combines this immediate context with that from the larger tradition. That combination and its resulting complexity of meaning does not contradict Parry’s concept of thrift.

400. mvp-comment-160-13 As we mentioned at the beginning of this discussion, however, p425 does not include the smile at all, but rather has the common formula including ἀπαμειβόμενος ‘answering’. Thus in a performance, a singer may not include this detail, as revealing as we may find it. We may think that a better singer would include it, but there are so many factors involved, including the experience and training of the singer, the versions of this episode he has heard from others, and the pressures of rapid composition-in-performance, that we cannot make this judgment for certain. What is important to keep in mind is that these performance variations do exist, even in our textual record.

402-404. mvp-comment-161-1 10.402–404 These lines are the same as those at Iliad 17.76–78. There, Apollo, in disguise as Mentes, leader of the Kikones, warns Hektor not to chase after Achilles’ horses, which carried Patroklos into battle (see also Iliad 16.864–867, where we are reminded that the gods gave these horses as a gift to Peleus). For this traditional language expressing a prohibition against Achilles’ enemies capturing these horses, see above on 10.330.

405. mvp-comment-162-1 10.405 See above on 10.384 for this formula.

406. mvp-comment-163-1 10.406 ποιμένα λαῶν See on 10.3 for more on the traditional epithet “shepherd of the warriors,” there applied to Agamemnon.

406-407. mvp-comment-164-1 10.406–407 D.M. Gaunt argues that these lines are the point at which the theme changes from a spying mission, or “reconnaissance-story,” to “a direct attack” (1971:197). Gaunt postulates that there were at one time two traditional episodes, one that focused on reconnaissance and the other on an assassination of “Hector or some great hero” (1971:195). (See also on 10.282.) Gaunt argues that when oral poetry is composed and performed, “paratactic” thinking allows for this kind of shift, since both the singer and the audience are most focused on the immediate scene. We disagree with Gaunt’s characterization of oral composition as primitive and his assertion “that sometimes the narrative leads the poet” (1971:195). Instead, we can see how these themes are linked in ways that Lord (1960/2000) and Petegorsky (1982) have explored, a phenomenon that reveals the complexity, rather than the simple-mindedness, of oral traditional epic. (Note that Hainsworth 1993 calls 10.433–441 the “turning-point of the Book.”)

406-411. mvp-comment-165-1 10.406–411 Odysseus asks Dolon what Nestor had wanted them to find out, and in oral traditional style, he asks using the same words Nestor himself used: compare 10.409–411 to 10.208–210. Thus we might notice that here Odysseus does fulfill the objectives of the spying mission, even as it is in the process of evolving into an ambush. Nestor, after all, had suggested that they might get this information by capturing one of the enemy (10.206). There is a consistency to the mission. But we should also note that Odysseus asks other questions first, about Hektor, armor, horses, and the arrangement of the night watches. Fenik (1964:19–20) argues that there was another version in which the night mission was to assassinate Hektor (which is seen briefly in the tragedy Rhesos). We might, however, understand Odysseus’ question about Hektor as being related to the question of what the Trojans are planning to do, since it was Hektor’s idea in the first place to camp on the plain during this night. But the questions about armor, horses, and night watches are directly relevant to what comes next: infiltrating the enemy camp and stealing horses. Dolon’s immediate response covers Hektor and the night watches. That response prompts Odysseus’ further questions about the allies, and then Dolon’s answer includes horses and armor, specifically the spectacular horses and armor of Rhesos. In terms of the sequence of information gathered, Odysseus’ questions here can be seen to prompt Dolon’s revelation that Rhesos has arrived. But in a larger sense, these questions may also reflect the traditional theme of night raids, and their traditional outcomes: targeting a leader through ambush and getting horses and armor through plunder. Understood in a traditional framework, neither the questions themselves nor the actions they lead to seem disjointed or strange from the point of view of the original mission.

413. mvp-comment-166-1 10.413 τοὶ γὰρ ἐγώ τοι ταῦτα μάλ’ ἀτρεκέως καταλέξω In several sources the verb here is ἀγορεύσω (see textual commentary on the Venetus A for more detail). We see this whole-line formula elsewhere in the Homeric epics, with the multiforms of καταλέξω and ἀγορεύσω. In Odyssey 4.399, Eidothea uses this same formula to introduce her instructions to Menelaos on how to ambush Proteus. She is not a captive of Menelaos, and so the main use of this formula seems to be as an introduction to a detailed set of information, and ambush requires such details to be successful. The formula seems also to be associated with false identities in answering the question of who one is: compare Odyssey 1.179, where Athena claims to be Mentes, and Odyssey 14.192, where Odysseus uses the line to introduce his Cretan lie to Eumaios. The “trickiness” on display in those answers might also be a point of connection with the ambush theme. We should note, however, that here Dolon is not being obviously tricky, unless we understand that by mentioning that the allies are unguarded he is diverting Odysseus from going after the Trojans and Hektor himself. In any case, Hektor, we know, is awake and not an ambush target on this night.

415. mvp-comment-167-1 10.415 βουλὰς βουλεύει For the importance of “plans” in night and ambush contexts, see pp. 69–73 and also on 10.1ff, 10.43–44, and 10.302. At 10.302, Dolon’s spying mission is the plan that Hektor proposes, but here Dolon implies that Hektor is still in the process of making plans. We might note that Dolon’s use of the present tense also seems to imply that he expects Hektor to still be there, just as the Achaean leaders wait at the council meeting place for Diomedes and Odysseus to return (see below on 10.564).

415. mvp-comment-167-2 10.415 θείου παρὰ σήματι Ἴλου From the geneaology of the Trojan royal family that Aeneas tells Achilles at Iliad 20.213–240, we learn that Ilos was the son of Tros, the father of Laomedon, and grandfather of Priam. His name is related to the name of Ilion. His grave mound acts as a landmark on the Trojan plain: both its prominence and the adjective θείου suggest that it was the site of a hero cult for Ilos (see Nagy 1979 on hero cult and the Homeric epics). This landmark also appears in two other episodes related to ambush. In Iliad 11, Paris hides behind the stele on the grave mound as he shoots an arrow at Diomedes ( Iliad 11.369–383; at Iliad 11.372 Ilos is called Dardanos’ son, perhaps meaning descendant, or perhaps reflecting a different geneaology: see Gantz 1993:557–558 for the question). This grave mound acts as a landmark again at Iliad 24.349, when Priam journeys to the Achaean camp to ransom Hektor’s body. After they pass the grave mound, Priam and his herald stop to water the horses and mules at the river, and it is there that Hermes meets them (see “The Poetics of Ambush” for both of these episodes as related to the ambush theme, and also 10.1ff. for Priam’s night journey). That Hermes meets them at this point suggests that Priam is then in a dangerous space and needs protection (as Thornton 1984:154 also observes). The grave mound is also used as a landmark during the daytime fighting: when Agamemnon routs the Trojans, they pass by this grave mound ( Iliad 11.166) and then the fig tree as they move to the city. Thornton identifies the features of the Trojan landscape, in order from the walls of Troy to the ships of the Achaeans as: “the oak-tree of Zeus, the fig-tree, the tomb of Ilus, the ford of the Scamander, the “rise” or hillock on the plain, and the Achaean ditch or wall” (Thornton 1984:150; see also Hainsworth 1993:243 on Iliad 11.166 for this grave mound’s place in the Trojan landscape). Thus we can see that the Trojans are rather close to the Achaeans on this night, and that the fearful thoughts Agamemnon has at the beginning of Iliad 10 are justified.

415. mvp-comment-167-3 The spatial information Dolon gives here in terms of this landmark will recur in even greater detail in his subsequent answers. Spatial indications are important to ambushers moving through the darkness. (See also Clay 2007 on spatial indications in descriptions of battle in Homeric poetry.)

416. mvp-comment-168-1 10.416 νόσφιν ἀπο φλοίσβου Dolon describes the meeting place as being apart from the noise of the rest of the encampment. It seems likely that we should envision the Trojan meeting as closer to the Achaean camp than the Trojan camp, just as the meeting of the Achaean leaders is closer to the Trojans: they cross the ditch and move out onto the plain (10.194–195).

416. mvp-comment-168-2 10.416 ἥρως This term often is used as the sixth foot in a line (over twenty times in the Homeric epics), and is used as a vocative (in any metrical position, but most often in the first or sixth foot) four times in the Iliad and four times in the Odyssey, either alone, as here (see also Iliad 20.104, Odyssey 4.423, 7.303, 10.516), or with the personal name of the hero ( Iliad 11.819 and 11.838 with Eurypylos and Odyssey 4.312 with Telemakhos). So although Hainsworth (1993:194), commenting on this line, says that “the unqualified vocative in the sixth foot in mid-speech is otiose and rare,” isolating this usage with that many qualifications may be overstating it. The equivalent nominative form is often found in the sixth foot, and there is even a fairly common formula that uses it in this position, αὐτὰρ ὅ γ’ ἥρως ( Iliad 5.308. 5.327, 8.268, 11.483, 13.164, 23.896), indicating that this word in the sixth foot was useful and good for composing-in-performance. The other vocative uses in this position that appear in our texts, it is true, are those in which ἥρως modifies a name, but since the vocative is used elsewhere, to find this particular use strange may be a case of already concluding that Iliad 10 as a whole is strange, and using this as one more piece of evidence for that conclusion. From a compositional point of view, a word often used in the sixth foot could easily be used in this way by analogy.

416-422. mvp-comment-169-1 10.416–422 The lack of watches among the allies creates a situation ripe for ambush, and we can at least consider the possibility that Dolon gives this information, as well as the information about Rhesos and the Thracians in his next response, to divert the Achaeans away from the Trojans themselves. We have seen night watches arranged by the Trojans before this night: when the previous night fell, Priam set up a night watch around the city of Troy ( Iliad 7.370–371; these same lines appear again at Iliad 18.298–299, when Hektor likewise sets up a night watch on the night following this one). The implication of those watches is that a night ambush may happen on any night (and, of course, we do hear about such episodes at Troy at Odyssey 4.244–258 and Odyssey 14.468–503). Because the Trojan army and its allies are spending this night out on the Trojan plain, however, more elaborate arrangements are made as night falls at the end of Iliad 8. The night watch in the city will on this night be manned by elders and boys, while the women light fires, all to prevent an attack on the city while the army is outside it ( Iliad 8.517–522). Hektor also establishes a watch “on ourselves” ( Iliad 8.529), and the fires he orders lit so that they can see if the Achaeans try to sail away ( Iliad 8.507–511) number one thousand, with fifty men and their horses stationed at each ( Iliad 8.562–565). The allies are not mentioned separately at this point, but Dolon’s words here make it appear that they are not included in those groups around the watch fires. At the beginning of Iliad 10, we can recall, Agamemnon both saw these fires and heard music and men talking around them ( Iliad 10.11–13). So there is a key contrast here between the awake and watchful Trojans and the sleeping allies—and also one between the kind of watch that the Achaeans arrange for the whole army (see Iliad 9.66–88) and the more diffuse watches of the Trojans.

416-422. mvp-comment-169-2 This latter arrangement may show how unusual the situation is for the Trojans: camping out on the plain for the first time, they are grouped as if they had gone to their family homes within the city. This arrangement is also consistent with what we see of the Trojans elsewhere in the Iliad. Gould argues that Trojan society “is a model based on an almost complete equation between the city of Troy and the οἶκος ‘household/family’ of Priam, with the consequence that ties of obligation in Troy are seen as those that obtain within an extended family” (2001:343–344). The fact that the watch fires are here called “home-fires” ( πυρὸς ἐσχάραι, 10.418) reinforces the idea that these are family groups, each responsible for its own watch.

423. mvp-comment-170-1 10.423 See the textual commentary on p609 for its recorded multiform on this line.

424-431. mvp-comment-171-1 10.424–431 Here, we see again the need for spatial information in a night ambush. Odysseus wants to know exactly the arrangements of the Trojan camp, and such knowledge will help not only his entrance but also his exit and successful return.

430. mvp-comment-172-1 10.430 Θύμβρης Thymbrē is located on the Trojan plain, where the Thymbrios river meets the Skamander in “the inner recesses of the Trojan plain southeast of Troy” (Luce 1998:124, with reference to Strabo 13.1.35) and is the site of a sanctuary dedicated to Thymbraion Apollo. Thornton (1984:150) argues that most places in the topography of Troy “are consistently associated with a particular sort of situation or with a particular party or person in the poem.” Thymbrē, mentioned only here in our Iliad, is associated with ambush in the larger epic tradition about the Trojan War. It is the site of Achilles’ ambush of Troilos (according to the scholia in the Townley manscript on Iliad 24.257; see also Apollodorus, Epitome 3.32) and also the site where Achilles himself is killed in an ambush by Paris and Apollo (see above on 10.29). It is also known as the place where Laokoon’s sons are killed (see Gantz 1993:648). Thus it is not surprising to find it mentioned here, and only in Iliad 10 within our Iliad, since it is so closely tied to the ambush theme.

432-434. mvp-comment-173-1 10.432–434 See the textual commentary on p609 for its recorded plus verse in this passage.

433. mvp-comment-174-1 10.433 εἰ γὰρ δὴ μέματον Τρώων καταδῦναι ὅμιλον We also find this use of καταδύω to mean ‘go behind enemy lines’ in an ambush theme at Odyssey 4.246: ἀνδρῶν δυσμενέων κατέδυ πόλιν εὐρυάγυιαν, and again at 4.249. (Athena’s action at Iliad 4.86 seems to have a similar flavor, but Apollo also “sinks into” the crowd of Trojans below at 10.517, and the Trojans are not his enemy, so the verb seems to specify gods visiting mortals in those cases.) It is also used to mean ‘enter’ battle ( Iliad 3.241 and 18.134).

435. mvp-comment-175-1 10.435 The scholia on this line in the Venetus A, Venetus B, and Townley manuscripts provide information on the multiform, traditional story of Rhesos. See the section on Rhesos in our essay “Tradition and Reception” for the texts of these scholia and a full discussion. As we saw on 10.406–411, Odysseus’ question about the horses and armor in general might have prompted this answer. Or Dolon may be directing them to the allies “furthest” from the rest in an attempt to deflect a more destructive attack. But in this version, in which Rhesos has not yet fought in battle at Troy and in which we have no oracle about his possible invincibility, it is through Dolon’s “advice” here that Rhesos becomes a target. That Rhesos is the son of an Eioneus here, and not the river Strymon as he is elsewhere, also serves to make him a more “mortal” target, although one still important as a king of freshly arrived troops who has spectacular horses.

436-437. mvp-comment-176-1 10.436–437 The horses of Rhesos are thematically significant in multiple ways. In one version of the story of Rhesos (see the Rhesos section of our essay “Tradition and Reception”), the so-called “oracle version,” Rhesos’ horses are intimately tied to the destiny of Rhesos and to that of Troy, since the oracle declares that, if Rhesos and his horses eat and drink at Troy, Rhesos will be invincible. The whiteness of the horses, as we see later in this episode (see commentary on 10.547), makes them highly visible even in the dark of night. (Schnapp-Goubeillon sees a ritual significance to their color, saying that a white horse is the sacrificial victim par excellence in horse cults, 1981:117.) Their size and swiftness, noted by Dolon here, also make them a valuable prize. The practical and symbolic importance of horses in general in the Iliad is evident in the singer’s questions that follow the catalog of ships: the narrator asks who had the “best” horses as well as who was the best warrior ( Iliad 2.761–770). That is, horses seem to be as much a part of the competition to be the best as is excellence in battle. (The answer given to these questions is that Achilles and his horses were the best, but only after it has been said that Eumelos’ mares and Telamonian Ajax were the best so long as Achilles was absent.) The value of horses is also seen in Diomedes’ acquisition of his enemies’ horses in Iliad 5. When he gives instructions to Sthenelos to capture the horses of Aeneas at Iliad 5.263–273, the most prominent example, Diomedes says capturing them will win them good kleos ( εἰ τούτω κε λάβοιμεν, ἀροίμεθά κε κλέος ἐσθλόν, Iliad 5.273), making their symbolic value glory itself.

436-437. mvp-comment-176-2 The possibility of taking these horses, when added to the attractiveness of the target of the sleeping, unguarded Thracians, combines ambush with horse-rustling, a closely associated theme. We will consider below (at 10.513–514) whether the theme of horse-rustling affects the composition of this nighttime horse-stealing episode, as compared to the taking of horses in daytime battle. But just as we have seen that spying missions frequently become ambushes, so also can ambushes incorporate this type of night raid (see pp. 80–84 of “The Poetics of Ambush” for other examples).

436-437. mvp-comment-176-3 Shewan 1911:179–180 has already dismissed the argument that the lack of reference to these horses subsequently in the Iliad is evidence that Iliad 10 is a late addition to the epic.

438-441. mvp-comment-177-1 10.438–441 The elaborate chariot and gold armor of Rhesos also mark him as an important and desirable target. Agamemnon’s armor includes gold ( Iliad 11.25), as does the armor Hephaistos makes for Achilles ( Iliad 18.475, 549, 612). Gold armor is memorably seen elsewhere in the exchange between Diomedes and Glaukos, in which Glaukos gives Diomedes his gold armor for Diomedes’ bronze as a sign of their inherited guest-friendship ( Iliad 6.232–236). Nestor also has an all-gold shield, which Hektor hopes to capture. He says that if he does take Nestor’s shield, along with Diomedes’ breastplate, then the Achaeans will depart that very night ( Iliad 8.191–197)—in fact, the night on which this ambush episode occurs. So there may be an association between the taking of gold armor and the outcome of the war, and Rhesos’ gold and silver chariot and gold armor may have a similar significance, relating it to versions of the Rhesos story in which his death prevents a possible Trojan victory (see “Tradition and Reception” for a full discussion of these other versions).

438-441. mvp-comment-177-2 The phrase θαῦμα ἰδέσθαι is used elsewhere in the Iliad for armor (that which Achilles inherits from Peleus but which Hektor is wearing at that point, Iliad 18.83) and other golden objects (Hebe’s chariot, Iliad 5.725, and Hephaistos’ wheeled tripods, Iliad 18.377). Since Achilles’ original armor was a wedding gift to Peleus from the gods, all these examples are also associated with the gods, as Rhesos’ armor is in Dolon’s words. In the Odyssey, θαῦμα ἰδέσθαι is associated with cloth or clothing ( Odyssey 6.306, 8.366, 13.108) or buildings ( Odyssey 7.45), but always those of divinities or the Phaeacians. From a compositional point of view, then, the following comment that his armor seems like that of the immortals is an expansion of this phrase.