51-52. mvp-comment-23-1 10.51–52 These lines were athetized by Aristophanes of Byzantium and Aristarchus, two great directors of the library in Ptolemaic Alexandria in the second century BCE. Aristarchus was considered the premier editor of Homer in antiquity, and the scholia that survive in our medieval manuscripts of the Iliad and Odyssey are full of references to him. As Gregory Nagy has demonstrated (see especially Nagy 2004), Aristarchus had available to him at the library of Ptolemaic Alexandria a great number of Homeric texts. Aristarchus’ practice was to collate the many texts known to him and to comment on the various readings that he found, often asserting which reading he felt to be the correct one. Unlike a modern editor, however, Aristarchus confined his opinions to his commentary, which was published in its own separate volume. The notes in the commentary were linked to the appropriate passages in the text by means of a system of critical signs. These signs are preserved in the Venetus A manuscript of Homer, and to a lesser extent elsewhere (see Bird 2009). So here, although both Aristarchus and his predecessor Aristophanes did not feel verses 51–52 were composed by Homer, they left them in the text, and indicated their judgment with the sign for athetesis (see Figure 4). The scholia in the margins of the Venetus A tell us that Aristarchus condemned 10.51 because it repeats the content of 10.49, and because δηθά and δολιχόν mean the same thing. There is a tendency among the Alexandrian editors to disapprove of verses that they feel to be repetitive, preferring compression over expansion. This preference for compression is rooted in the poetics of their day (see Dué 2001a), and does not offer us good grounds for condemning the lines. But it is noteworthy that these scholars did not impose their preferences on the text itself, with the result that much more Homeric poetry survives for us today than probably would have otherwise.

53. mvp-comment-24-1 10.53 Αἴαντα The Ajax being referred to here is the son of Telamon. (See below on 10.110–113.) Evidence from the Venetus A scholia indicates that Aristarchus may have known a reading Αἴαντε instead of Αἴαντα:

Didymus says that the Aristarchean reading is “ Αἴαντε” in the dual, but Telephos says that Didymus has misspoken, since Menelaos is not sent to both Ajaxes.

This disagreement in the scholia about Aristarchus’ reading may reflect an evolution in the meaning of the dual form Αἴαντε that has been noted by previous scholars. In some early stage of the Greek epic tradition, the dual Αἴαντε referred not to Ajax the son of Telamon and Ajax the son of Oileus as a pair, but rather to Telamonion Ajax and his brother Teucer (whose special fighting style is discussed above at p.60; see Ebbott 2003:41–43 with references ad loc.) The dual form of the name that Aristarchus knew here would be perfectly appropriate in a time when it was understood to refer to Ajax and Teucer. In any case, at 10.228 the two Ajaxes ( Αἴαντε δύω) volunteer to go on the spying mission with Diomedes, but it is not clear whether at that point both Ajaxes are volunteering, or whether it is the fighting pair of Ajax and Teucer. It is possible that the dual would have been understood differently by audiences of different periods.

53. mvp-comment-24-2 10.53 Ἰδομενῆα κάλεσσον It is significant that Idomeneus figures prominently here among the chief heroes, since he is the speaker of the most explicit description of ambush warfare in Homeric epic. He and Meriones discuss what it takes to succeed in ambush at Iliad 13.266–294 (discussed above, pp. 45–47). Idomeneus and Meriones are from Crete, and Odysseus links himself to both Idomeneus and Crete throughout his “Cretan lies” in the second half of the Odyssey, including a tale involving the ambush of the son of Idomeneus ( Odyssey 13.259–275). The alternative warfare of ambush, with its reliance on cunning and dissimulation rather than force, may have been traditionally a Cretan specialty or in some way associated with Cretans. Certainly in the Odyssey, mention of Crete functions as a narrative signal for the external audience, and possibly for the internal audience as well, since Odysseus seems to use these stories as a kind of coded message or ainos ( Odyssey 14.508), by which he gauges the recipient’s loyalty and character. Crete serves as a cloak for Odysseus’ true identity as he carefully and cleverly sets up his return, just as, in war, heroes camouflage themselves for a nighttime spying expedition or ambush. (For more on the concept of the cloak and its connection to Odysseus’ ainos in Odyssey 14, see below at 10.149.)

56. mvp-comment-25-1 10.56 ἐλθεῖν ἐς φυλάκων ἱερὸν τέλος ἠδ᾽ ἐπιτεῖλαι A night watch is explicitly set up in Iliad 9.80–88, where the guards assemble and take their post armed. There, we hear that the guard consists of seven leaders, each of whom is named, and each leader has a hundred young men with long spears. As we will see later (10.196–197), Meriones and Thrasymedes, named as two of the seven in Iliad 9 but given special mention here at 10.57–59, will join the leaders to deliberate about the plan, and, importantly, give Diomedes and Odysseus some of their armor. Back in Iliad 9.87, we are told that the guard takes up their post between the ditch and the wall (see further on 10.194). For more on the anxieties about the watch falling asleep, see on 10.98. See Singor 1992:403 for his arguments that the seven leaders of the night watch implies that the Achaean wall has seven gates, and that the adjective hieros is used here, as well as for both the gatekeepers of Troy ( Iliad 24.681) and the walls of Thebes ( Iliad 4.378), because defensive walls and the life-sustaining protection they provide are “sacred.”

58-59. mvp-comment-26-1 10.58–59 Ἰδομενῆος ὀπάων / Μηριόνης The relationship between Idomeneus and Meriones fits into an Indo-European mythical paradigm of the hero and his charioteer. In such relationships, the charioteer often loses his life, thereby saving the life of his more dominant other half. The concept of the opaōn is similar to that of the therapōn (defined by Gregory Nagy as ‘ritual substitute’), which is what Achilles calls Patroklos in Iliad 16.244. In that passage, Achilles prays that when Patroklos returns to battle he have the power to fight on his own, instead of as part of the closely linked fighting pair that Achilles and Patroklos normally form. Instead, however, Patroklos dies (at the hands of Apollo, Euphorbus, and Hektor), wearing Achilles’ armor and in many ways previewing Achilles’ own death, in some traditions at least, at the hands of Paris and Apollo. (On opaōn and its application to Meriones, we are indebted to an unpublished paper by Ellen Aitken. On the therapōn as a ‘ritual substitute’ for the hero, as Patroklos functions for Achilles, see Nagy 1979:33 and 292–293. On the relationship between Achilles’ and Patroklos’ death, see also Burgess 1997.) The night watch seems to be led by younger men in particular, like Meriones here: is there a suggestion that they can better endure the sleeplessness? See further on 10.259 for the association between young men like Meriones and ambush.

60. mvp-comment-27-1 10.60 βοὴν ἀγαθὸς See below on 10.283 for more on this epithet.

65. mvp-comment-28-1 10.65 ἀβροτάξομεν There are two different spellings of this verb (found only here in our Homeric texts) in the textual tradition: ἀβροτάξομεν and ἀμβροτάξομεν. Sources are nearly evenly divided between them. West (1997: 229) points out that the form ἀμβροτάξομεν “offers the unmetrical sequence ‒ ⏑ ‒, but the difficulty is resolved by going back to an ancient * hamṛtáxomen.” We might speculate, then, that the spelling without the mu came about because it seemed to solve the metrical difficulty by relying on a plosive + liquid exception to the rule that multiple consonants form a closed syllable (see West 1997: 220–221). In any case, ἀμβροτάξομεν belongs to the categories of older words West identifies that became unmetrical as their form evolved. They were preserved as part of the formulaic language even as these sound-changes occurred in the Greek language as a whole. The antiquity of this word could mean that concern about missing one another in the dark of night is a traditional idea, part of the poetics of night raids or nighttime spying missions.

73. mvp-comment-29-1 10.73 αὐτὰρ ὁ βῆ ῥ᾽ ἰέναι μετα See above on 10.32.

73. mvp-comment-29-2 10.73 ποιμένα λαῶν See above on 10.3.

75. mvp-comment-30-1 10.75 εὐνῇ ἔνι μαλακῇ· παρὰ δ᾽ ἔντεα ποικίλ᾽ ἔκειτο Nestor and Diomedes are described in the state in which they are found sleeping by the others, with the result that each is characterized as a warrior of a particular style. Nestor is an old man and sleeps on a soft bed, but his weapons are right beside him, which implies that he is ready for battle at a moment’s notice (see also 10.78–79). The battle gear that lies next to him is not the same as that he puts on to go out in 10.131ff. The shining helmet (10.76) would be inappropriate for a night mission (see below on 10.257). Rather, the armor serves to characterize Nestor as a warrior in his own right and give him distinction. Agamemnon here, as elsewhere in the Iliad, looks to Nestor first and foremost for strategy. At Iliad 7.325 and 9.84 he is Νέστωρ, οὗ καὶ πρόσθεν ἀρίστη φαίνετο βουλή (“Nestor, whose planning also before was manifestly the best”). Nestor orchestrates most of the events of Book 9, as he does here in Book 10. In Book 11, it is Nestor who sets in motion Patroklos’ fatal impersonation of Achilles. On Nestor’s role in the Iliad and in the larger epic tradition, see Frame 2009.

83. mvp-comment-31-1 10.83 ὀρφναίην See on 10.41 above.

84. mvp-comment-32-1 10.84 ἠέ τιν᾽ οὐρήων διζήμενος, ἤ τιν᾽ ἑταίρων The idea that someone would be out at night looking for a mule ( τιν᾽ οὐρήων) seemed odd to Alexandrian scholars, as it might to us. The A scholia indicates that Aristarchus athetized the line because of that word, suggesting that it should be some form of κοῦρος, to indicate the young men of the guard. Instead of assuming a mistake by the poet (as the scholiast does) or by a scribe, another approach would be to see if there are any traditional associations with mules getting loose at night. There are no examples in surviving Homeric poetry, but there may well have been in the larger tradition. In any case, mules are used in a variety of contexts in the Iliad, by both the Trojans and the Achaeans. (See Iliad 1.50, 23.111 and 115, 24.716 for οὐρεύς; the word ἡμίονος is also used in this book at 10.352 and throughout the Iliad and Odyssey.)

85. mvp-comment-33-1 10.85 φθέγγεο, μὴ δ᾽ ἀκέων ἐπ᾽ ἒμ᾽ ἔρχεο See “The Poetics of Ambush” on the sensory aspects of the night. In 10.67, Agamemnon told Menelaos to call out ( φθέγγεο as here) wherever he went, which in the dark would serve both to wake up his comrades and let them know that he was their fellow Achaean and not an enemy. So here Nestor tells his visitor not to sneak up on him in the dark, but to call out to let him know who he is and why he is there. See also Iliad 10.139 and 24.170.

85. mvp-comment-33-2 10.85 χρεώ As each hero is roused from sleep the theme of the great need the Achaeans find themselves on this night is emphasized. We saw in 10.43 that Agamemnon speaks to Menelaos of their need for a “plan,” boulē, just as Nestor does in the opening of Iliad 9. Here, Nestor naturally asks what need has caused him to be woken in the middle of the night. In 10.118, he advises Agamemnon to wake up the Greek leaders, citing the “unbearable need” ( χρειὼ … ἀνεκτός) that has come upon them. Likewise in 10.142 Odysseus asks what need so great ( χρειὼ τόσον) has driven Agamemnon and Nestor to wake him. Nestor asks him not to reproach them, since the situation really is that dire: “Such sorrow has come upon the Achaeans” ( τοῖον γὰρ ἄχος βεβίηκεν Ἀχαιούς, 10.145). In 10.172, we find χρεώ invoked by Nestor once again, in much the same language as at 10.142: “An especially great need has come upon the Achaeans” ( μάλα μεγάλη χρειὼ βεβίηκεν Ἀχαιούς). This theme runs throughout Books 9–11, as Robert Rabel (1991) has demonstrated. Rabel argues that each of these three books has a similar tripartite structure consisting of recognition of need, journey, and return and report.

98. mvp-comment-34-1 10.98 καμάτω ἁδηκότες The meaning of ἁδηκότες can be easily gleaned from context, but its derivation is disputed. This formula appears four times in this book (here, 10.312, 10.399, and 10.471), but with the exception of Odyssey 12.281 nowhere else in the Iliad or Odyssey. (See also Homeric Hymn to Apollo 460.) Here is another instance of a formula closely tied to the night that has been seen by previous commentators and scholars as evidence of the book’s unusual style. We have argued that Iliad 10 is essentially our only surviving extended narration of a night raid, and this accident of transmission makes these formulas seem more unusual than would otherwise be the case. If we examine the use of καμάτῳ ἁδηκότες in this book more closely, we can see why this formula would have been particularly useful for a poet composing a night raid, and for one composing this episode in particular.

98. mvp-comment-34-2 We have already observed that the necessity of staying awake is part of the hardship that characterizes ambush warfare. This necessity, as it happens, is likewise an important component of keeping a night watch. Because on this night the Trojans are encamped nearby—which we have seen is a cause of great anxiety for the Achaeans—the importance of the night watch is heightened. It is vital that the Achaean watches not fail in their duty; they must not fall asleep.

98. mvp-comment-34-3 In 10.312, Hektor proposes that someone find out if the Achaeans are keeping a proper night watch, or if in fact they are too worn out by the toil of battle to do so ( καμάτῳ ἁδηκότες αἰνῷ). In 10.399, Dolon repeats Hektor’s words to Odysseus virtually word for word, as so often happens in Homer when messages and information are relayed. In 10.420–422, Dolon reveals that the allies of the Trojans are not keeping night watches, and are instead leaving security to the Trojans, who have wives and children to protect. And so, in 10.471, we find that Rhesos and his men have done what the Achaeans must not do: they have fallen asleep, overcome by exhaustion ( οἱ δ’ εὗδον καμάτῳ ἁδηκότες). In Odyssey 12.281, Odysseus attempts to force his men to sail through the night, past the island of the sun god (where Teiresias had foretold disaster). The men refuse, saying that they are too worn out to do so ( καμάτῳ ἀδηκότας ἠδὲ καὶ ὕπνῳ). It seems clear that this formula occurs naturally when the hardship of staying awake is added to the weariness of a day’s toil, whether it be a day spent fighting in the polemos, or, in the case of the Odyssey, a day spent rowing at sea. (Cf. the simile at Iliad 7.4–7, which compares the relief that the Trojan soldiers feel when Hektor and Paris return to the battlefield to that experienced by sailors who, when their limbs are giving out from the toil of rowing [ καμάτῳ δ’ ὑπὸ γυῖα λέλυνται], hope for and receive a favorable wind.) It is not necessary to see these instances in Book 10 as idiosyncratic in their concentration, the work of a particular poet with his own personal and/or Odyssean style, as Danek and Hainsworth have most recently explained them. (See Danek 1988:84–86 and Hainsworth 1993 ad loc.) Rather, they are yet another example of the way that formulas and traditional themes go hand in hand.