254-272. mvp-comment-89-1 10.254–272 The passage that begins here functions much like an arming scene. In a well-known article, James Armstrong (1958) shows how formulaic arming scenes are employed at climactic moments in the Iliad with great effect. He analyzes in detail the four major arming scenes of the Iliad (those of Paris in Iliad 3, Agamemnon in Iliad 11, Patroklos in Iliad 16, and Achilles in Iliad 19), arguing that formulaic language in these passages is manipulated for various poetic purposes, and that each scene resonates with what came before, so that there is a cumulative effect over the course of the poem.

254-272. mvp-comment-89-2 In the night raid/ lohkos tradition, the dressing and arming of heroes would no doubt have had a poetic purpose similar to the expanded arming scenes of conventional battle. These scenes contribute both to suspense, by increasing the audience’s anticipation of the coming ambush or raid, and to characterization, as the details of each dressing or arming passage reveal important aspects of the hero’s character as a fighter. But even more importantly, the passages serve to signal that the poet is moving into a different poetic register. The poet transitions by way of such scenes from one megatheme to another, and the alternative style of clothing is emblematic of not only this alternative mode of fighting but also an alternative poetics.

254-272. mvp-comment-89-3 The armor described here is in many ways atypical. Most distinctive is what the heroes wear on their heads. Diomedes and Odysseus wear leather skull caps ( κυνέην … ταυρείην … ἥ τε καταῖτυξ κέκληται—the word καταῖτυξ is used only here in extant Greek literature), and the history of Odysseus’ cap is elaborately described: Odysseus’ own maternal grandfather Autolykos stole it and gave it away as a gift to Amphidamas, who likewise gave it as a gift to Molos, who then gave it to the Cretan Meriones, who now gives it to Odysseus along with the other weapons Odysseus will carry, a bow and quiver and sword. Meriones must give Odysseus all of this gear because when Odysseus leaves his tent, unlike the other heroes who dress in skins and cloaks and take their weapons, he takes only his shield. (See above on 10.149.)

254-272. mvp-comment-89-4 But both heroes, it should be noted, are given weapons and armor by the two leaders of the guards, Meriones and Thrasymedes, who came out into the night fully armed. Diomedes, we are told here, borrows a sword and shield from Thrasymedes, just as Odysseus uses Meriones’ bow, quiver, sword, and helmet. Such borrowing may reflect the impromptu nature of the mission—a quality that will be seen again when it changes from a spying mission to an ambush/night raid. Or it may give the mission a communal aspect, which can also be seen in the rest of the leaders remaining in this same spot, beyond the ditch, until Diomedes and Odysseus return. They are all invested in the success of these two.

254-272. mvp-comment-89-5 But while the clothing they wear and weapons they carry are unusual for extant Homeric epic, they are completely appropriate for a night raid, where, unlike the polemos, it is important not to be conspicuous. (See also Shewan 1911:55.) The history of the cap as a gift indicates that such an object has prestige as well as utility, and possession of it may indicate “the best,” who would wear such equipment for these dangerous and important missions. That it was originally stolen by the thief extraordinaire Autolykos seems related to the stealth that it affords the wearer, and also makes it even more fitting both for Odysseus personally, who is very much like his grandfather, as we know from Odyssey 19.395–412, and for the night mission that requires stealth. Petegorsky (1982:200) also argues that the helmet connects all of these elements of Odysseus’ identity: “This helmet functions as a kind of identity marker for Odysseus, and it is in effect the equivalent of the scar in Odyssey Nineteen, which was the result of a wound inflicted on the hero by the tusk of a boar.”

273. mvp-comment-95-1 10.273 βάν ῥ᾿ ἰέναι See on 10.32.

273. mvp-comment-95-2 10.273 πάντας ἀρίστους In Iliad 7, Hektor challenges whoever is the best of the Achaeans ( Ἀχαιῶν … ἄριστος, 7.50) to a duel, which at first only Menelaos accepts, followed (upon the reproach of Nestor) by Agamemnon, Diomedes, the two Ajaxes, Idomeneus, Meriones, Eurypylos, Thoas, and Odysseus. Here, many of the same heroes are being referred to as aristos, namely Agamemnon, the two Ajaxes (if Ajax the son of Oileus is indeed present, as he seems to be in our text; see above on 10.228), Idomeneus, and Meriones. For who is “best of the Achaeans” in epic, see above on 10.236.

274. mvp-comment-96-1 10.274 ἐρῳδιὸν This bird is a night heron. The Venetus A scholia says that it is an auspicious sign for Diomedes and Odysseus as they depart for clandestine activities and appropriate to the marshy area that they are in (see also 10.466–468 on the tamarisk bush for the marshy place of the ambush of Dolon, as well as “The Poetics of Ambush” for the kind of location where ambushes are often set up). The scholia in the Townley (T) manuscript, according to the edition of Maass, likewise call the bird a good sign for ambushers ( ἀγαθὸν λίαν τὸ σημεῖον τοῖς ἐνεδρεύουσιν) and appropriate both because of the marshy place and because it hunts at night and is rapacious ( νυκτὸς ἀγρεύει καὶ ἁρπακτικόν ἐστιν). The night heron does exhibit ambush-like behavior in its hunting: it waits while standing still for its prey to come into range at night and also plunders the nests of other birds (see e.g. http://www.enature.com/fieldguides/detail.asp?recnum=BD0117 or http://www.sdakotabirds.com/species/black_crowned_night_heron_info.htm). But what we see in these scholia is part of a “system of associated commonplaces” (Black 1962:39 and above at 10.5–9) that the ancient audience would have had for this bird—namely, that the bird itself is an ambusher found in places used by warriors for ambushes—and those associations make it an appropriate omen. Such associations can be common without empirical evidence of the creature’s actual behavior. The fact that the bird is heard but not seen is also appropriate to the poetics of the night, where hearing is the predominant sense.

274. mvp-comment-96-2 See Thompson 1895:58–59 for ancient sources on the ἐρωδιός: he notes that the heron is a symbol of Athena on coins. See also Pollard 1977:68–69 for this bird in general. Pollard notes a story from Aelian relating that Diomedes’ men were transformed into herons (Pollard 1977:164), and Vergil alludes to the story that Diomedes’ men were turned into some kind of bird at Aeneid 11.271–274. Other stories show evidence of a connection between herons and horses (Thompson 1895:59, Pollard 1977:167).

274. mvp-comment-96-3 For another bird omen at night, compare the bird omen Zeus sends to Priam before he infiltrates the Achaean camp ( Iliad 24.315–321).

275. mvp-comment-97-1 10.275 Παλλὰς Ἀθηναίη Walter Burkert describes Athena this way: “More than any other Greek deity, Athena is always near her protégés—‘Goddess of Nearness’ is how Walter F. Otto described her [Otto 1929/1956]. Wherever difficulties disappear and the impossible becomes possible, Athena is at hand, but her presence does not detract from the achievement of the other” (Burkert 1985:141). Athena is present for Odysseus throughout the Odyssey, and indeed she guides his entire nostos from the opening scene among the gods in Olympia to the conclusion of the strife on Ithaka in the final lines of Odyssey 24. They rival one another in cunning intelligence ( mētis) and, as Burkert notes, Odysseus and Athena’s special relationship is exemplified by the way they reveal themselves to one another in Odyssey 13. Each knows the other by the false identity/lying tale that each offers to the other. Odysseus’ story is that he killed a man in Crete (by ambush— λοχησάμενος, 13.268) and fled, ending up in Ithaka. But Athena knows exactly who he is:

So he spoke, and the goddess owl-radiant Athena smiled,

and took him by the hand. In form she resembled a woman

who was beautiful and tall and skilled in splendid handiwork.

290 She spoke out and addressed to him winged words:

“He would have to be a wily thief, the man who could get past you

in every sort of deception, even if you had a god for an antagonist.

You are intractable, crafty in intricate ways, insatiate of deception, nor were you about,

even now that you are in your own country, to leave off from deceiving

295 and the beguiling words that are constantly dear to you.

But let’s no longer talk about these things, since we both know how to be

wily. You are the best of all mortals

in planning [ boulē] and words, while I among all the gods

have glory for my craft [ mētis] and wiles. Yet you did not know that

300 I am Pallas Athena, the daughter of Zeus, who always

stands by you in all your labors and watches over you,

who made you dear to all the Phaeacians.

Now again I have come here, in order to weave mētis with you

and hide all the goods that the noble Phaeacians

305 gave to you when you went homewards by my planning [ boulē] and my thinking … ”

Athena is the god that most resembles Odysseus; she embodies the boulē, mētis, kerdea, doloi, and noos that Odysseus is legendary for in the epic tradition (skills that are the hallmark of ambush warfare). So here too in Iliad 10 Athena is near to Odysseus, and he prays that she stand by him as she has done in the past ( παρίστατσαι, 10.279). Note the same formula used in 10.279 and Odyssey 13.301: Athena there asserts that she does indeed stand by him in his many labors.

275. mvp-comment-97-2 On Odysseus’ relationship with Athena in the Iliad, see also Haft 1990:42, who, in discussing the many parallels between Iliad 2 and 10, notes that Athena makes an epiphany to Odysseus in that book. On Diomedes’ relationship with Athena, see below on 10.285.

278-279. mvp-comment-98-1 10.278–279 ἥ τέ μοι αἰεὶ / ἐν πάντεσσι πόνοισι παρίστασαι This same formulaic language is used at Odyssey 13.300–301, when Athena asserts that she does indeed always stand by Odysseus in every kind of labor. For a full discussion of that Odyssey passage, see on 10.275. For a similar use of παρίστημι, see below on 10.291.

281. mvp-comment-99-1 10.281 πάλιν ἐπὶ νῆας ἐϋκλεῖας ἐφικέσθαι See above on 10.211–212 and “The Poetics of Ambush” for more on the thematic similarities between nighttime missions and journeys and for the importance of the safe return. Cf. 10.247.

282. mvp-comment-100-1 10.282 ῥέξαντας μέγα ἔργον, ὅ κεν Τρώεσσι μελήσει An interlinear scholion on this line in the Venetus A indicates that Aristarchus understood this “great deed” to mean murdering Hektor. See the Rhesos section of the “Tradition and Reception” essay for more on the theory that a mission to assassinate Hektor might have been told in some versions. Just such an assassination attempt is the initial object of Odysseus and Diomedes’ mission in the tragedy Rhesos (575–576). But we should note that, within the context of Iliad 10, the murder of Rhesos and his men fulfills Odysseus’ prayer (see below on 10.524).

283. mvp-comment-101-1 10.283 βοὴν ἀγαθός The epithet βοὴν ἀγαθός has been used four times in Iliad 10 already, for both Menelaos (10.36, 10.60) and Diomedes (10.219, 10.241), as it is used elsewhere for these heroes in the Homeric epics. We take the opportunity to examine in detail the epithet βοὴν ἀγαθός here because an argument has been made (Machacek 1994) that this particular use of it, in this line, has a special meaning, one that should make us reconsider Parry’s ideas about how epithets work in Homeric epic. Machacek’s article as a whole is a larger reconsideration of Parry’s work, from a stated position sympathetic to Parry (Machacek 1994:322). His basic argument pertaining to the use of this formula here is that “a great shout is a liability at this moment” (Machacek 1994:332)—as noise can indeed be in the night. Machacek argues further that this final use of the epithet in the book is contextually appropriate: once the Achaeans have departed on their mission, they will have to be quiet. Machacek makes several assumptions about the ancient audience’s reception of this episode, including the assumption that they would notice the absence of the epithet after this point, having noticed its use in previous lines (Machacek 1994:331–333). Before we deal with this argument any further, however, let us examine closely what Parry has to say about this epithet and others like it.

283. mvp-comment-101-2 The epithet βοὴν ἀγαθός is what Parry calls a fixed epithet. The four characteristics of fixed epithets, as Parry describes them, are as follows: (1) Fixed epithets are used in accordance with their metrical value and not in accordance with their signification; (2) they are traditional; (3) they are always ornamental; (4) they are often generic.

MHV 165–166 We will elaborate on what each of these characteristics means for our understanding of this traditional epithet, keeping in mind Parry’s point that they are all interdependent. We can see that βοὴν ἀγαθός is fixed because it is always used in the same position in the line: it follows the so-called weak or feminine caesura, where the previous word ends at the first short syllable of the third foot, and the first (short) syllable of βοὴν completes the third foot. This placement within the line is common for epithets, and Parry comments that βοὴν ἀγαθός fulfills the same purpose as other epithets that extend from the weak caesura to the bucolic diaresis (that is, where the word-end coincides with the end of the fourth foot), even though this epithet extends beyond the fourth foot (MHV 66). Because of its length, this epithet phrase is used most often with the same two names we see here in Book 10, Menelaos and Diomedes, which have the same metrical shape, ⏑ ⏑ ‒ Χ. (It is used with the name Diomedes in the Iliad at least twenty-one times; with Menelaos, at least fourteen times in the Iliad and at least eight times in the Odyssey.) But it has the flexibility to adorn other warriors’ names as well: Ajax, Hektor, and Priam’s son Polites are also given this epithet, which stays in its same position, while the rest of the line follows a different pattern, from small adjustments such as the inclusion of a τε before Polites’ name to greater differences in the metrical patterns for Hektor and Ajax. Thus, as Parry argues about these kinds of “rigorously” fixed epithets as a category, they “clearly must have had, for the poets who used them, an existence independent of any particular type of noun-epithet formula” (MHV 64–65). More controversial is Parry’s contention that the poet uses these epithets for metrical reasons rather than their signification. We will have more to say on this below.

283. mvp-comment-101-3 The fixed epithet, as Parry says, is also traditional, having been used again and again over time once it was found to be useful for composing in performance. The principle of analogy applies here since the use of the epithet with more than one hero’s name is profitable for the singer in performance. Parry describes the process as occurring over time, within the tradition, and argues that we cannot discover which hero had this epithet originally:

MHV 87 There are five names in the Iliad that are given this epithet, but if we had more of the epic tradition, we might see it used even more widely. Conversely, if we had only the Odyssey, we would consider this epithet to belong solely to Menelaos. We must be mindful of the limitations of our data when it comes to the larger tradition.

283. mvp-comment-101-4 This epithet is also ornamental, meaning that it is not being used in a context in which the warrior is actually shouting in battle. The non-ornamental epithet is one Parry terms “particularized,” meaning that it is essential to the context, and to completing the thought of the sentence (see MHV 158–164 for more on particularized epithets). A typical example of an ornamental use of this epithet is found at Odyssey 4.307, which describes Menelaos as βοὴν ἀγαθός as he awakes, gets out of bed, and gets dressed at home in Sparta, not displaying any of his shouting prowess. Similarly, the uses here in Iliad 10 do not accompany any battlefield cries. There is one case in which the epithet is followed by a shout on the battlefield: in Iliad 17, when Ajax and Menelaos are protecting the corpse of Patroklos, Ajax asks Menelaos to call others to help them. Menelaos is called βοὴν ἀγαθός in both the lines that open and close Ajax’s request ( Iliad 17.237, 246). Menelaos then gives a loud, piercing shout to the Danaans ( ἤϋσεν δὲ διαπρύσιον Δαναοῖσι γεγωνώς, Iliad 17.247). Here, then, we might think the epithet is particularized to the context, since Menelaos is demonstrating his battle-cry. One objection to that idea, however, might be that, with a different vocabulary and purpose—a cry for help—this kind of shout is not the same as the battle shout. But that distinction is not what would matter to Parry, for he says of ornamental epithets like βοὴν ἀγαθός: “After what we have learned of the ornamental meaning of the Homeric epithet, we must recognize the principle that an epithet used in a given noun-epithet formula cannot sometimes be ornamental, sometimes particularized: it must always be one or the other” (original emphasis, MHV 156).

283. mvp-comment-101-5 Finally, this epithet is also generic. The fixed epithet, according to Parry is also often (though not always) a generic epithet; that is, it is used in noun-epithet formulas without specific characterization of the person it is applied to. Just as the ornamental epithet is contrasted with the particularized, in this case, the generic epithet is the opposite of the distinctive epithet in Parry’s terminology. Distinctive epithets are those used for only one hero. In fact, Parry uses βοὴν ἀγαθός as an example of a generic epithet with a general meaning: “The expression βοὴν ἀγαθός will, if used of only one hero, say Diomedes, assign to that hero an unusual power of voice, just as ποδάρκης assigns to Achilles a singular swiftness; said of any hero whatever, the expression will mean no more than ‘good at the war-cry as ordinary men are not’” (MHV 146). This idea of the generic meaning of an epithet, especially in combination with Parry’s assertion that the fixed epithet is used for its metrical value rather than its signification in context, has elicited strong reactions from critics.

283. mvp-comment-101-6 But let us notice first that Parry does not say here that this epithet has no meaning at all; he says only that it does not specify one hero in a way that it specifies no other hero. In other words, the heroes designated βοὴν ἀγαθός are, indeed, good at the battle shout. The fact that more than one hero is so designated suggests that such a skill would have been considered a good and useful one for a warrior, just as the formula itself is good and useful for the singer who is composing in performance. And let us also note that there are situations, such as Menelaos getting out of bed at home in Sparta, in which the epithet carries no immediate meaning for the immediate context. In these situations, especially, Parry’s arguments were most illuminating when he first made them, and they freed the critic from spending any more time or energy trying to come up with a reason that the immediate context called for this particular epithet.

283. mvp-comment-101-7 With those important insights in mind, we can turn to the more controversial idea that the poet chooses a fixed epithet such as this for metrical purposes. Parry expresses this idea in two ways: first, he argues that, if a generic epithet is applied to several heroes, it is chosen “not according to the character of the hero, but according to the metrical value of his name” (MHV 95). According to this argument, Menelaos and Diomedes both share this trait because their names have the same metrical value. Second, he argues that the metrical shape of the beginning of the line (in this case, that which ends at the weak caesura) determines which epithet is used in that particular line. In other words, heroes acquire certain epithets according to the metrical value of their name, and then which epithet is used in a particular line is determined by the other words in that line. But as we have already seen, this fixed epithet, even as it stays in the same metrical position, can be used for heroes whose names have different metrical values, such as Ajax or Hektor. And the poet is of course shaping the rest of line using the traditional, formulaic language he commands: the use of this language by a skilled singer is as natural as using spoken language is for anyone fluent in it, including the use and creation of formulas by analogy, as Lord has eloquently argued (Lord 1960/2000:30–36). Additionally, as scholars who have followed Parry and Lord have gone on to demonstrate more fully, thought precedes meter in Homeric diction. Meter and formulas do not imprison the poet (see e.g. Nagy 1996b:22–25 and Foley 2002:133–134).

283. mvp-comment-101-8 There are additional factors that we need to consider as we use and evaluate Parry’s work on epithets. One is that Parry himself did not live to complete his work on Homeric poetry, dying at the young age of thirty-three. Thus the emphasis, seen all too often in scholarly discussions, on his “failures” or the limitations of what he accomplished is, to be frank, unfair. More egregious, however, is treating Parry’s work as though nothing has come after it, when its issues and questions have been thoroughly addressed and its insights expanded upon by generations of scholars. To properly evaluate Parry’s work, these subsequent studies must also be acknowledged and accounted for.

283. mvp-comment-101-9 With that in mind, how should we understand this use of the epithet, or the four others in this Book, or those in the Homeric epics overall? As we have already noted, the epithet has a general meaning for a warrior with a particular skill. For the heroes who are given this epithet, it has a larger meaning within the epic tradition as a whole: although we may not see the heroes shouting at the times when they receive the epithet, within the tradition as a whole, it tells us something about what kind of a warrior the hero is. This larger meaning has already been noted by Parry (MHV 137–138) and Lord (1960/2000:65–67), and both the concept of a formula’s traditional meaning and its significance for the poetics of the epics have been expanded upon by Nagy, Foley, and many others. (See the discussion above on the epithet ποιμένα λαῶν at 10.3.)

283. mvp-comment-101-10 We can now return to the question of whether this particular use of the epithet has a contextual meaning in connection with the need for silence on an ambush. Machacek’s argument implicitly understands this aspect of the poetics of ambush, the need for stealth and quiet. In fact, in the earlier episode of this night, Agamemnon asks his herald to summon the Achaeans for an assembly, but tells him not to shout ( μηδὲ βοᾶν, Iliad 9.12), indicating that, even at that point in the night, and even within the encampment, only quiet speaking is appropriate. This need for quiet and stealth, however, prompts the question of whether the epithet should be used at all during night episodes if its meaning is felt to be tied so closely to the current circumstances, as Machacek suggests it is. His answer is that the singer uses it four times in Iliad 10 precisely so that the audience will notice its absence in the rest of the book, when Diomedes is actually on the mission. Machacek proposes that the audience members even “listened carefully to see if he [the singer] would slip up and so describe Diomedes” (Machacek 1994:332). Beyond being an odd conception of the relationship between the singer and audience—in which the audience’s reception is focused on waiting for the singer to make a mistake, and a “literary” mistake at that—such a formulation also misunderstands the important point that the audience, as well as the singer, knows Diomedes to be well-known for his battle shout at all times, whether or not he is shouting (and in all instances where Diomedes gets this epithet in Iliad 10, he is not).

283. mvp-comment-101-11 Instead, we have to recognize that this epithet is not particularly associated with the ambush theme, even though it is used several times in this particular ambush episode. On some deeply felt level, but perhaps not an immediate one, the audience would associate this epithet with Diomedes’ (and Menelaos’) prowess as a warrior in the polemos, where the battle shout is appropriate, and they would know from hearing many episodes from the Trojan War, and perhaps even the Theban epic tradition, that Diomedes is a warrior who excels at both polemos and lokhos. (See also our discussion of Diomedes in these terms in “The Poetics of Ambush.”) In some ways, though, the uses of this epithet reaffirm Parry’s own observations about how epithet formulas, in particular, can be used in situations in Homeric poetry where they would seem odd or even contradictory in poetry that was not oral and traditional. The singer was not forced by metrical considerations to use this formula, but it was useful for the composition of this Book, even though a battle shout happens nowhere in the episode itself and Diomedes, as well as Odysseus, avoids making excessive noise.

283. mvp-comment-101-12 There is one other major methodological problem with Machacek’s argument: it is predicated on this line containing the final instance of this epithet formula. When we consult modern editions of Iliad 10, this can easily appear to be the case. But when we consider the full range of evidence, including papyri and the scholia, and when we fully grasp what composition-in-performance means for the multiformity of the epic tradition (for more on these topics, see our essay “ Iliad 10: A Multitextual Approach”), we see that such arguments about epithets in particular can be refuted on an empirical basis. On the papyrus that both Allen and West refer to as “p90” (Oxyrhynchus 6.949 from the second–third century CE), there is a possible use of this epithet again at 10.446: [ τον δ ημειβετ επειτα βοην αγα] θος Διομηδης, which would put it squarely in the middle of the mission, after Diomedes and Odysseus have captured Dolon. And from the scholia to both the Venetus A and Townley manuscripts, we hear of a version of 10.349, known to the Homeric critic Aristophanes, that also uses this epithet: ὣς ἔφατ’, οὐδ’ ἀπίθησε βοὴν ἀγαθὸς Διομήδης. (See our textual commentary, on the the Venetus A text, p. 217, for more on this multiform.)

283. mvp-comment-101-13 Since name-epithet formulas were so useful, flexible, and traditional—all qualities that Parry himself identifies—it is difficult to prove the argument that the absence of one in a particular passage is significant: even with our limited evidence we can see that this epithet could indeed be used again in this episode, and that doing so would not be considered a “mistake” that an audience would find out of place. Instead, a thorough understanding of the oral traditional poetics of these formulas requires us to take a larger view of their meaning, just as an understanding of the textual tradition requires us to take into account all the evidence we have and to recognize that a singer might have sung this same episode with the variation natural to composition-in-performance. These are some of the differences between Homeric epic and modern poetry that Parry enjoins us to acknowledge and to appreciate with a different aesthetics.

284. mvp-comment-102-1 10.284 Διὸς τέκος Ἀτρυτώνη As an epithet of Athena, Ἀτρυτώνη is used within the epic tradition for direct address: in our texts, she is addressed this way either by Hera ( Iliad 2.157, 5.714, 21.420) or by a mortal praying to her (Diomedes here and at Iliad 5.115; Penelope at Odyssey 4.762; Odysseus at Odyssey 6.324). The Venetus A manuscript at Iliad 2.157 has a gloss written directly above this epithet that says “inexhaustible” ( ἀκαταπόνητε). In all of these cases the name is part of an extended formula Διὸς τέκος Ἀτρυτώνη, and in all other instances besides this αἰγιόχοιο precedes Διὸς (see 10.278 for a use of the formula αἰγιόχοιο Διὸς τέκος without Ἀτρυτώνη). Thus the formula is one we see regularly throughout the epics, and it is therefore an example of the traditional nature of the language of Iliad 10. But should we find the absence of αἰγιόχοιο in this line evidence of nontraditional usage? We would argue no, since what actually seems to alter the compositional needs of this line is the fact that this is the second in a two-fold prayer to Athena (“Hear now also me”), which is not the case in the other attested examples.

284. mvp-comment-102-2 Wherever this formula is used, Athena is reported as having listened to the prayers of the mortals who address her as such (see Iliad 5.121, Iliad 10.295, Odyssey 4.767, and Odyssey 6.328). When Hera addresses her with this epithet, Athena springs into action to do whatever Hera has asked after that initial address. Thus within the tradition it seems a particularly effective way to address the goddess in order to gain her attention. Formulas involving the gods are used especially in prayer contexts (Parry MHV 77–78, 181–182), and this one should be counted among them.

285. mvp-comment-103-1 10.285 σπεῖό … ἕσπεο Within the epic tradition this verb can have a marked meaning, signifying a god who accompanies a hero and gives him special protection or help. We see the same verb later indicating that Athena is indeed accompanying ( ἕπουσαν, 10.516) Diomedes—Apollo is said to see her doing so. Athena has already signaled her presence through a bird sign (10.274–275), and will later speak to Diomedes (10.507–512), although she remains unseen throughout. In other cases, Athena “accompanies” mortals in disguise: at Odyssey 2.287 while disguised as Mentor she offers to accompany Telemakhos on his journey, and at Odyssey 6.32 appearing to Nausikaa in a dream in the guise of the daughter of Dymas she says she will accompany her. (Although she does not go with Nausikaa in this form, she is present at the washing place.)

285. mvp-comment-103-2 Parallel to Athena accompanying Diomedes and Odysseus on this night mission, Iris tells Priam in a dream that Hermes will accompany him on his night mission to the Achaean camp to ransom Hektor’s body ( Iliad 24.182), and of course, Hermes does so in disguise (see above on 10.1ff. for more on how Priam’s mission is similar to the ambush theme). Thus we find that this particular use of the verb for gods accompanying mortals has associations with dreams, disguise, and night missions. As we have noted in “The Poetics of Ambush,” there is thematic overlap between such missions and journeys. Therefore, in addition to Athena saying she will accompany Telemakhos on his journey at Odyssey 2.287, we can also include among the examples of this theme Nestor’s proclamation that the gods in general accompany Telemakhos on his journey: τοι νέῳ ὧδε θεοὶ πομπῆες ἕπονται ( Odyssey 3.376). Athena has a special relationship with Odysseus (see the commentary on 10.275 for more on that relationship), and that intimacy extends to his son. Here, Diomedes asks for the same kind of consideration based on her relationship with his father. We know that Diomedes indeed has such a relationship with Athena from Iliad 5. See also 10.291.

285. mvp-comment-103-3 Finally, we may compare this use of ἕπομαι for god and mortal pairs to its use for teams of warriors; it is used not only of the team of ambushers here in Iliad 10 (10.222, 10.227, 10.246), but also of warriors who team up in daytime battle, as at Iliad 11.472, 15.559, and 16.632. In each of those latter cases, the one warrior asks the other to join him in pushing the enemy back, and when the second follows/accompanies him, he is called “a man equal to a god,” using the same formula: ὣς εἰπὼν ὃ μὲν ἦρχ’, ὃ δ’ ἅμ’ ἕσπετο ἰσόθεος φώς (“So speaking he led the way and the other man, equal to a god, accompanied him”).

285-290. mvp-comment-104-1 10.285–290 Another rich epic tradition, one centered on the city of Thebes, is alluded to here, as it is at other places in the Iliad. The story of the Seven Against Thebes seems to have been a parallel epic tradition to that of the Trojan War, out of which the Iliad and Odyssey emerged: Hesiod refers to these two wars as those fought by the generation of Heroes ( Works & Days 161–165). Yet, because the ancient Greek epics known as the Thebaid and Epigonoi are not extant, with only a few fragments surviving in other sources, the Iliad is one of our best and earliest sources for this tradition. The Iliad refers to this other tradition in some detail not only here, but also at Iliad 4.376–410, Iliad 5.800–808, Iliad 6.222–223, and Iliad 14.113–126. (See Gantz 1993:502–525 for other sources.) These Iliad passages refer to two different wars on Thebes. The first attack is instigated by the Theban Polyneikes (son of Oedipus) after his brother Eteokles denies him his share of the kingship of Thebes. Polyneikes then gathers a large military force with the help of his father-in-law Adrastos of Argos and Tydeus, Diomedes’ father, who is also an exile from his native city Kalydon (see Iliad 14.115–120). The other leaders vary according to the source, but can include Kapaneus, Amphiaraos, Parthenopaios, Eteoklos, Hippomedon, Mekisteus, and Lykourgos. The Seven are defeated at Thebes, as is at least implied at Iliad 4.405–409, Iliad 6.222–223, and Iliad 14.114. The second war was one of revenge by the sons of the Seven, called the epigonoi, some time later, when the sons reached manhood (Diomedes tells Glaukos he never knew his father because he was so young when Tydeus died at Thebes, Iliad 6.222–223). The sons who fight at Thebes include Diomedes and his daytime fighting partner Sthenelos, son of Kapaneus. As Sthenelos indicates, they are successful in sacking Thebes (see Iliad 4.403–410). Thus these two are a link between the two epic traditions, since they fight both at Thebes and at Troy. In an oral performance tradition, the singer can allude to the subject matter of other epics in this kind of compressed way and expect an audience to understand the allusion (see further on 10.289–290 below).

288. mvp-comment-105-1 10.288 μειλίχιον μῦθον The semantic range of μειλίχιος when used to describe words or speech is a broad one. Kind or gracious words are used to persuade or encourage. The adjective modifies both muthos (used three times) and even more often epos (used nineteen times) in our texts. It is also used as a substantive with the verb προσηύδα (used three times) to indicate this kind of speech. These persuasive words are used between friends. The one context in which this is patently not the case is informative because it uses its antonym to indicate how unsuccessful such persuasion can be between enemies. At Iliad 11.137 two Trojans, Peisandros and Hippolokhos, beg Agamemnon in battle to ransom them as prisoners of war rather than kill them. The narrator says they use gracious speech in their request, but hear an ungracious voice in response ( ὣς τώ γε κλαίοντε προσαυδήτην βασιλῆα / μειλιχίοις ἐπέεσσιν· ἀμείλικτον δ’ ὄπ’ ἄκουσαν, Iliad 11.136–137). Agamemnon refuses their pleas and kills them (compare Iliad 21.98 for a similar refusal also termed an “ungracious voice in response”).

288. mvp-comment-105-2 As we will discuss further below (see 10.542), the semantic range of μειλίχιος also includes speech between friends in which the adjective is used with words of welcome (see also Odyssey 19.415 and 24.393). Similarly, Diomedes uses such words with Glaukos once he realizes that their grandfathers were guest-friends ( Iliad 6.214).

288. mvp-comment-105-3 This last example brings us to contexts where the words are used to address those who are, could be, or should be friends, but who either are or could be angry with or hostile to the speaker. For example, Helen speaks to Hektor this way when he comes to retrieve Paris, and her words are meant to show him her shame at her own conduct as well as that of Paris ( Iliad 6.343; see Ebbott 1999 for more on the way Helen’s shame is portrayed in the Iliad). When Odysseus and Nausikaa see each other, he wonders what would be the best way to approach her: to supplicate her by taking hold of her knees, or stand further off and use gracious words ( ἐπέεσσιν ἀποσταδὰ μειλιχίοισι, Odyssey 6.143). He decides on this second option because if he clasps her knees (naked as he is), she might get angry ( Odyssey 6.145–147), and so he speaks a gracious and cunning speech ( μειλίχιον καὶ κερδαλέον φάτο μῦθον, Odyssey 6.148), which, of course, he hopes will persuade her to help him.

288. mvp-comment-105-4 In addition to these cases of such words meant to assuage or forestall someone’s anger, we have two final examples that are even closer to the case of Tydeus and therefore help us understand the traditional story behind his embassy to the Thebans. Odysseus speaks with such words to Ajax in the underworld, hoping to persuade his friend turned enemy to speak with him ( τὸν μὲν ἐγὼν ἐπέεσσι προσηύδων μειλιχίοισιν, Odyssey 11.552). And Nestor proposes approaching Achilles with these kinds of words as well as with gifts to persuade him to return ( δώροισίν τ’ ἀγανοῖσιν ἔπεσσί τε μειλιχίοισι, Iliad 9.113). Once we see the wide range of contexts in which this kind of speech can be used, we understand better that Tydeus is sent as a messenger to the Thebans in order to persuade them, and that he comes as a friend to friends who may nevertheless be hostile to him (as indeed they turn out to be). Tydeus comes on behalf of Polyneikes, of course, who was supposed to share the kingship of Thebes with his brother Eteokles. When Tydeus’ words of persuasion (presumably, urging him to follow this original arrangement) fail, he is later ambushed. The attack of the Seven against Thebes will be the next step. But we can infer that Tydeus’ speech, if we had an example of it from an ancient epic about the Theban war, would have started from a friendly stance and would have been gracious toward Eteokles and the Thebans.

289-290. mvp-comment-106-1 10.289–290 This allusion provides a good illustration of the workings of the Iliad’s performance context. Diomedes says only that Tydeus is able to “mastermind astounding deeds” with Athena’s help on this occasion, without any further detail needed for his internal audience, since Athena would know what happened. A traditional audience of the Iliad, however, would also readily know the events to which Diomedes refers, and this compressed reference would evoke the entire episode for them, whereas we have to try to reconstruct it as best we can. As we have seen, this episode is also related to Diomedes by Agamemnon at Iliad 4.382–398 and Athena at Iliad 5.800–808 as they both try to spur him on to live up to his father’s fighting prowess. As we saw above on 10.48, the phrase mermera erga refers to one man defeating many more, and Tydeus does this twice, in fact, when he is sent alone to Thebes as a messenger. In Iliad 4 and 5, we learn that Tydeus challenges the Thebans to athletic contests, and defeats them all easily, because Athena helps him ( Iliad 4.389–390 ≈ 5.807–808). But in Iliad 4, Agamemnon continues the story by saying that the Thebans in retaliation send fifty men to ambush Tydeus (they go on a πυκινὸν λόχον, Iliad 4.391–393; see above at 10.5–9 for the implications of pukinos in an ambush context). Tydeus defeats them as well, slaying all of them except for Maion, whom he intentionally leaves alive in obedience to the portents of the gods ( Iliad 4.396–398). The A scholia on Iliad 4.394 inform us that “some guess that Maion was a herald, and for that reason he alone was saved.” Nevertheless, Tydeus’ status as angelos does not protect him from being attacked. In his much later (and Latin) epic Thebaid, Statius portrays Maion as a seer, and Tydeus makes him a herald by default, giving him the message to take back to Thebes to prepare for war ( Thebaid 2.682–703).

289-290. mvp-comment-106-2 We see here that, in addition to mermera erga indicating one man defeating many, it can apply to either daytime fighting in open battle (as in the case of Hektor above [10.48] and at Iliad 11.502, in the case of Achilles at Iliad 21.217, and in Zeus’ phrase πολέμοιό τε μέρμερα ἔργα at Iliad 8.453) or nighttime/ambush fighting, as in this case and also below on 10.524. Here and on 10.48, these astounding deeds are associated with verbs like μήδομαι (10.52 as well as this line) and μητίομαι (10.48), so whether daytime battle or nighttime ambush, whether attacker or attacked, such success against greater numbers can be thought of as “devised” or “masterminded.” Also, in this case, the fact that one ambusher is left alive is a significant detail. In the poetics of ambush, there is narrative tension surrounding the possibility of not knowing what happens to those who go on a spying mission, an ambush, or another nighttime expedition unless they return successfully. Maion’s return, although apparently granted by the gods, is also necessary for Tydeus’ victory to be known.

289-290. mvp-comment-106-3 This allusion indicates that ambush was a theme in the Theban epic tradition as well. Like Bellerophon ( Iliad 6.187–190), Tydeus is successful in defeating the ambushers even though he is vastly outnumbered. Another night episode within this tradition that shares features with Iliad 10 is Tydeus’ arrival in Argos after his exile. The scholia to Iliad 4.376 from the Venetus A relate the story that both Tydeus and Polyneikes arrive at the house of Adrastos at night, each wearing an animal skin, like those of the heroes in Iliad 10. Tydeus wears a boar skin, and Polyneikes a lion skin. Adrastos had received an oracle that he should marry his daughters to a lion and a boar, and seeing these men on his doorstep he realizes that they should be his sons-in-law. As we have argued above, the wearing of animal skins puts the episode in a distinct register. The connection to the animals mentioned in the oracle plays off that register, by making the meaning of the skins symbolic in a more particular way. See also the commentary on Dolon’s wolf skin at 10.334.

291. mvp-comment-107-1 10.291 ὡς νῦν μοι ἐθέλουσα παρίστασο καί με φύλασσε As we saw with the verb ἕπομαι on 10.285, Athena in particular is a goddess who stands by and protects the heroes she favors. She asserts to Diomedes on the battlefield that she indeed does what he asks her to do in his prayer: σοὶ δ’ ἤτοι μὲν ἐγὼ παρά θ’ ἵσταμαι ἠδὲ φυλάσσω (“Indeed I stand by you and guard you,” Iliad 5.809). In the Odyssey, she claims the same thing to Odysseus, using the same verbs: ἐν πάντεσσι πόνοισι παρίσταμαι ἠδὲ φυλάσσω ( Odyssey 13.301). For the use of παρίσταμαι we can also compare the use of this same verb at Odyssey 3.222, when Nestor tells Telemakhos that Athena used to stand beside Odysseus openly: ὡς κείνῳ ἀναφανδὰ παρίστατο Παλλὰς Ἀθήνη. (See above on 10.275 and 10.278–279 for more on Odysseus’ relationship with Athena.) Thus this line is yet another clear example of the traditional language in Iliad 10. Diomedes requests Athena’s assistance here on the basis of that which she had given his father, and when Athena uses this combination of verbs at Iliad 5.809, it is also in the context of a comparison between Tydeus and Diomedes. Thus we see again (cf. 10.285) a patrilineal continuation of Athena’s special protection of her favorite heroes.

292-294. mvp-comment-108-1 10.292–294 These lines are the same as those found in our texts at Odyssey 3.382–384. In the Odyssey, it is Nestor making the promise of such a sacrifice, again to Athena. Nestor prays to Athena for good kleos for himself, his children, and his wife and promises her in return this same kind of unbroken one-year-old cow with gilded horns. The identical vow in both contexts suggests that an unbroken cow is especially appropriate for Athena, perhaps because of her own virgin status, and, of course, that the sacrifice is made in reciprocity for success. But also suggestive is the vow’s close association in both cases with Athena’s personal involvement with heroes, and specifically her accompaniment of them on a particular mission. Although it is not Telemakhos who makes the vow (the way Diomedes does here), Nestor mentions that she accompanies Telemakhos before he makes the vow in return for his own kleos.

296. mvp-comment-109-1 10.296 It is a typical feature of Homeric poetry and its oral traditional nature to say again that they had both prayed even after the previous line, which closes Diomedes’ prayer, indicates the same. The “fullness of expression” that may at times seem feeble or repetitive in poetry composed in writing is a natural component of oral composition-in-performance.

297. mvp-comment-110-1 10.297 βάν ῥ᾽ ἴμεν See on 10.32.

297. mvp-comment-110-2 10.297 ὥς τε λέοντε δύω There are other examples in our Homeric texts of a pair of lions together. Only in the case of Hektor and Patroklos fighting do we find a simile of two lions fighting each other ( Iliad 16.756–761). There are three examples, however, of lions hunting together as a team. At Iliad 5.539–560, Aeneas kills two twin brothers, Orsilokhos and Krethon, who are compared to two lions that prey on cattle and sheep until they are finally killed by the weapons of men. At Iliad 13.170–202, Teucer kills the Trojan Imbrios, and Hektor in return kills Amphimakhos. Ajax beats Hektor back, and the Achaeans drag both corpses out of battle. The Aiante, when they carry the corpse of Imbrios off the battlefield, are compared to two lions snatching a goat from the guard dogs and carrying it high in their jaws into the brush. These lion similes belong to a tradition of similes about lions attacking herds of domesticated animals, whether cattle, sheep, or goats, which are often protected by dogs and men. There are also two lions depicted on the shield of Achilles that attack a bull, drag it off, and gorge themselves on its blood while keeping dogs at bay ( Iliad 18.579–586). A pair of lions working together, therefore, seems to be a traditional image, and as we can see from the similes in Iliad 5 and 13, this image is associated with special pairs of fighters. See above on 10.243 for Diomedes and Odysseus as one of these special pairs, especially in ambush situations, and also on 10.53 and 10.228 for the Aiante, when that dual form means Ajax and Teucer, as it seems to in Iliad 13. For more on lion similes in Homeric epic, see Scott 1974, Moulton 1977, Schnapp-Gourbeillon 1981, Lonsdale 1990, and Muellner 1990.

297. mvp-comment-110-3 Also noteworthy in this simile, in terms of composition, is the lack of clear division between the lions and the warriors—both can be imagined going through the night, slaughter, corpses, war gear, and black blood. That is, at the end of 10.297 it seems like we could be going into an extended simile, but once we reach 10.298, and especially the mention of the war gear, we must reconsider the boundary of the simile. The simile then seems to be of the sort that is the ultimate compression: simply “like two lions” (compare other compressed lion similes at Iliad 5.299, 11.129, 12.293, 15.592, 17.542, and 24.572 and at Odyssey 9.292 and 23.48). Leonard Muellner (1990) has compellingly argued that these shorter similes are indeed compressed versions of the longer, more detailed lion similes, rather than the longer being (newer) extensions of these shorter types. Therefore, even this short phrase would evoke the imagery of two lions working together, as we see in greater detail in other similes. For similes involving lions that attack at night, see 10.485–488. See Scott 1974:90 for the combination, as on this line, of the formula βῆ/ βᾶν δ’/ ῥ’ ἴμεν followed by a simile.

298. mvp-comment-111-1 10.298 ἀμ φόνον, ἀν νέκυας, διά τ᾽ ἔντεα καὶ μέλαν αἷμα As we have already seen on 10.199, corpses and gore are a significant feature of the landscape on this night. The second half of this line ( διά τ᾽ ἔντεα καὶ μέλαν αἷμα) appears again at 10.469 as Odysseus and Diomedes move toward the Thracians. The scholia cite this phrase in different ways, reflecting various practices of ancient textual criticism. Looking at just the scholia in the Townley manuscripts (in the edition of Maass), for example, we see that the phrase is cited as a parallel use of διά with an accusative, as on Iliad 15.1 and 22.190. In this way, 10.298 is treated no differently from any other line in showing “Homeric” usage. This same phrase, however, is objected to on Iliad 23.806, because it is “transferred from the Doloneia,” an argument that reflects the Alexandrian dislike of repeated phrases, even though we know they are a natural and necessary element of oral composition-in-performance (see also 10.51–52).

299-300. mvp-comment-112-1 10.299–300 οὐδὲ μὲν οὐδὲ Τρῶας ἀγήνορας εἴασεν Ἕκτωρ / εὕδειν, ἀλλ᾽ ἄμυδις κικλῄσκετο πάντας ἀρίστους At the beginning of Iliad 10, where Agamemnon cannot sleep because of worry, he looks out at the Trojan encampment and wonders at both the sight of the many fires and the sounds of flutes and pipes and the clamor of men (see 10.11–13). From that description, we already know that the Trojans are not sleeping. But this passage can also be a compressed version of the theme of a leader who cannot sleep and so calls together a council to make a plan. We see such a theme at the beginning of Iliad 2, as well as in this book (see comments at 10.1ff.). In the process of oral composition-in-performance, the singer can compress or expand a theme, Lord’s term for “the groups of ideas regularly used in telling a tale in the formulaic style of traditional song” (Lord 1960/2000:68; for the singer’s ability to expand and compress themes, see Lord 1960/2000:78–80, 88–91). So here the singer, who has already sung a version of the theme for the scene at the Achaean camp, merely mentions sleeplessness and the calling together of the council without the development and expansion seen earlier. Even the enjambment of the verb εὕδειν on the second line of this compressed version is reminiscent of that at Iliad 2.2 and 10.2, indicating a compositional pattern.

300-301. mvp-comment-113-1 10.300–301 The identity of the ἄριστοι (10.300) whom Hektor calls together is explained by the following line: the leaders and rulers of the Trojans. On both sides, the leaders are regularly called the ἄριστοι (compare the same sense of the word on 10.1, 10.117, 10.214, and 10.273, as well as below on 10.326). Within this group, however, there is a competition to be the best of all, and participation in these dangerous nighttime missions is part of that competition: see above on 10.236 for this heightened sense of the word ἄριστος and the role that the best men play in ambush.

302. mvp-comment-114-1 10.302 πυκινὴν ἠρτύνετο βουλήν See above on 10.5–9 and 10.43–44 for more on the significance of πυκινός and planning in the ambush theme. This same phrase is used at Iliad 2.55, another episode that begins at night, when the Achaeans are similarly debating the very thing that Hektor wants to find out on this night: whether they should continue fighting or return home. There, the plan they decide upon also involves deception. In other contexts, too, the verb ἀρτύνω is used to set an ambush ( Odyssey 14.469) or to devise false stories ( Odyssey 11.366), so it, too, has thematic associations with cunning, deception, and ambush. Thus the whole phrase thematically encompasses the kind of plan that Hektor here proposes.

304. mvp-comment-115-1 10.304 μισθός Disapproving interpretations of this term have added to the negative reception of the character of Dolon, from the scholia in the Venetus B and Townley manuscripts through to negative assumptions made in passing in more recent studies such as Schnapp-Goubeillon 1982:58, Holoka 1983:8, and Coffee 2009:62. (Hektor is criticized as well for offering a reward that he does not himself have, at that point, to give.) In Homeric diction, the term is used as remuneration for work, such as woodworking ( Iliad 12.435) or shepherding ( Odyssey 10.84), and can be used within a taunt ( Odyssey 18.358, although so can ‘guest-gift’ [see Odyssey 9.370]). But misthos is also used for what Poseidon and Apollo expect in return for building the walls of Troy ( Iliad 21.445, 21.450, 21.451, 21.457), so the labor itself need not be common. μισθός is also connected with another ambush episode: Menelaos says that the “pay” for the men who watched for Agamemnon’s return on Aegisthus’ behalf was two talents of gold ( Odyssey 4.524–526). There, the task has a negative sense to it, but does the fact that pay is involved make this so? Focusing exclusively on the word misthos here ignores both that the reward is called a δῶρον in this same line (similar to Nestor calling his offer a δόσις, see 10.213) and that the spy will get κῦδος (10.307) for this mission as well. There may indeed be an implicit contrast in the poetry between the rewards offered on each side on this night, but condemnation of Dolon based on a notion of “work-for-pay” is too extreme, nor does it seem evident that misthos is indicative of the “unheroic” character of Dolon or of the Doloneia as a whole.

305. mvp-comment-116-1 10.305 ἐριαύχενας ἵππους Parry notes that ἐρι- is the Aeolic prefix. The Ionic form, ἀρι-, has the same metrical value, and so we would expect such words to shift to the Ionic. But, Parry argues, exceptions to that general rule of the evolution of Homeric language, such as we have in this case, show that “not only the bards’ habit of using epithets with the Aeolic prefix, but also their sense of the formula which contained such epithets, protected the prefix here from their tendency to keep only those elements of the λέξις ξενική which differed metrically from the corresponding Ionic forms.” Parry also notes that ἐριαύχενας appears only within this formula (Parry, MHV 181n1). From this we can see how conservative the oral composition process can be, in addition to how formulaic phrases can be thought of, used, and preserved by the singers as a unit.

305-306. mvp-comment-117-1 10.305–306 The recorded textual multiforms for 10.306 provide a good example of how oral composition operates within its tradition. In 10.305, Hektor offers as the great gift a chariot and two horses, and in the reading of the main text of the Venetus A, in 10.306, he further qualifies that he will give whichever horses are best at the swift ships of the Achaeans ( οἵ κεν ἀριστεύωσι θοῇς ἐπὶ νηυσίν Ἀχαιῶν). The scholia in the A manuscript record three different readings by the three major Alexandrian Homeric scholars, which in turn all differ from this main text. First, it says that Aristarchus read οἵ κεν ἄριστοι ἔωσι θοῇς ἐπὶ νηυσίν Ἀχαιῶν. The meanings of that version and that of the main text of A are similar: Hektor indicates that the gift will be the best of the Achaean horses, but he does not make it any more specific. The difference between ἀριστεύωσι and ἄριστοι ἔωσι may be a performance variation, or it might have been introduced at some point in the textual tradition. Both Zenodotus and Aristophanes, however, knew versions of a line that did specify which horses: those of Achilles. Zenodotus read αὐτοὺς οἳ φορέουσι ἀμύμονα Πηλείωνα (“the ones which carry the faultless son of Peleus”), similar to line 10.323 below. Aristophanes read something slightly different: καλοὺς οἳ φορέουσι ἀμύμονα Πηλείωνα (“the fine ones which carry the faultless son of Peleus”).

305-306. mvp-comment-117-2 In these four readings, then, we see how from performance to performance certain words or phrases might be used in place of one another, ἀριστεύωσι or ἄριστοι ἔωσι, αὐτοὺς or καλοὺς. But the choice between simply stating “whichever are best” and specifying the horses of Achilles reveals a deeper layer. In either case, Dolon would likely name the horses of Achilles in his reply, as he does in our version (see 10.323), so it is not a question of someone else’s horses being offered as a prize that is at issue here. Instead, if the singer sings “whichever are best at the ships of the Achaeans,” a traditional audience will immediately think of Achilles’ horses, knowing that they are indeed the best. We know this, too, because at the end of the catalog of ships, the narrator asks the Muse who was the best of the men, and who the best of the horses ( Iliad 2.761–762). Eumelos’ mares are at first mentioned as the best horses ( Iliad 2.763–765) and Ajax, son of Telamon, as the best man, but then both are qualified by the statement that this was true only so long as Achilles stayed angry, since both he and his horses were by far the best ( Iliad 2.768–770; there, too, we have a similar phrase to describe the horses: ἵπποι θ’ οἳ φορέεσκον ἀμύμονα Πηλείωνα). So the singer may be implicit or explicit about which horses Hektor is offering, and these textual variations record different possibilities for how the line was performed. As we will see in further detail below (see 10.332), in both the Iliadic tradition and in other versions of this story, Hektor has his own designs on capturing the horses of Achilles (for example, he pursues them after the death of Patroklos, who drove them into battle, see Iliad 17.483–496), and the performance variation of whether Hektor is explicit or not in naming Achilles’ horses as the reward may be related to whether the singer has in mind that aspect of the tradition. In any case, these variations recorded in the scholia of the Venetus A reveal the multiplicity of the compositional possibilities here.

307. mvp-comment-118-1 10.307 τλαίῃ See p. 75 and on 10.248 for the connection between this verb and ambush.

307. mvp-comment-118-2 10.307 κῦδος ἄροιτο For this use of arnumai with kudos or kleos, compare Iliad 4.95 and 5.3 and Odyssey 1.240. Just as Nestor promises both κλέος and a δόσις for whoever will undertake the spying mission for the Achaeans (see above on 10.212–213), so also Hektor promises a δῶρον (304) and also κῦδος to the volunteer among the Trojans. As we argued above, these are clear indications that success on an ambush was considered prestigious for Homeric warriors.

312. mvp-comment-119-1 10.312 καμάτῳ ἀδηκότες See on 10.98 for more on this phrase.

313. mvp-comment-120-1 10.313 ὡς ἔφαθ᾽, οἱ δ᾽ ἄρα πάντες ἀκὴν ἐγένοντο σιωπῇ This is a whole line formula, which we find in nine other places in our texts: Iliad 3.95, 7.92, 7.398, 8.28, 9.29, 9.430, 9.693, 10.218, 23.676. At 10.218, the same verse is used for the Achaean reaction to Nestor’s proposal for a spying mission. In general the formula is used after a challenge by one man to a group, whether his own comrades or the enemy, and this verse serves as a pause before another individual responds in one way or another to the challenge. It is another example of the traditional nature of the language of Iliad 10.

314-317. mvp-comment-121-1 10.314–317 These four lines provide us a brief introduction to Dolon. We are given his father’s name (314), and we learn that his father was a herald (315) and that Dolon was his only son, but that he had five sisters (317). Dolon is also described as wealthy (315), not good looking, and swift (316). We discuss in detail in the Dolon section of our essay “Tradition and Reception” how we understand Dolon’s traditional status. Here, we will look at each of these elements individually, each in its own context. To understand these characteristics properly, we must investigate what each attribute would mean to a traditional audience by examining evidence from the tradition itself, leaving aside any of our own cultural assumptions.

314-315. mvp-comment-122-1 10.314–315 Εὐμήδεος υἱὸς / κήρυκος θείοιο A patronymic is often read as a sign of traditionality: that is, a character with a patronymic has a lineage within traditional epic (for more about this initial line of introduction, see “Tradition and Reception” above). As we see here, and again when the patronymic is used on lines 412 and 426, it is also a useful formula for composition: combined with Dolon’s name, it fills the line from the weak caesura to the end of the line, one of the most common metrical patterns for name-epithet formulas. The enjambment of his father’s occupation on the next line is compositionally noteworthy: it is not necessary to complete the thought of the previous line (indeed, none of these details are strictly necessary—line 318 could follow 314 with no loss of sense). As Lord reminds us, “This absence of necessary enjambment is a characteristic of oral composition and is one of the easiest touchstones to apply in testing the orality of a poem. Milman Parry called it an ‘adding style’; the term is apt” (Lord 1960/2000:54). Eumedes’ role as herald must strongly suggest itself to the singer when his name is used in the patronymic formula. Scholiasts offer the possibility that Odysseus and Diomedes would perhaps know Dolon because he accompanied his father on official dispatches to the Greek camp (see below on 10.447). But there may also be implicit contrasts here: his father the herald visits the Achaean camp in an official capacity during the daylight. We can compare Iliad 7.370–415, when the Trojans decide at dinner time to send Idaios to the Achaeans at dawn the next day (see Iliad 7.370–372, 380–381). That is, it is made explicit that the herald will wait for daylight to go to the opposing camp, rather than immediately going in the dark. Dolon, as a spy at night, is a different kind of unofficial “visitor” to the enemy camp. Heralds are divinely protected in their duties, as the epithet θεῖος indicates, but spies are not, and Dolon cannot expect protection, or even mercy, when he encounters the Achaeans on his mission.

315. mvp-comment-123-1 10.315 πολύχρυσος πολύχαλκος Dolon is also described as wealthy: “rich in gold, rich in bronze.” These epithets are more commonly used of places in our texts, and Dolon is the only person to be called by them. Mycenae is called πολύχρυσος three times ( Iliad 7.180, 11.46, Odyssey 3.305). Sidon is called πολύχαλκος ( Odyssey 15.425), as is the ouranos ( Iliad 5.504; Odyssey 3.2), perhaps because of an association between the sky and the homes of the gods, which have bronze floors ( Iliad 1.426, 14.173, 21.438, 21.505, Odyssey 8.321). The combination of both adjectives πολύχρυσος and πολύχαλκος is used only of Troy in our texts ( Iliad 18.289), when Hektor says that formerly all mortals used to speak of Priam’s city as rich in gold, rich in bronze, but now the Trojans have had to sacrifice most of that wealth ( Iliad 18.285–292). So the question emerges whether the combination of these adjectives evokes an association between Dolon and Priam’s Troy and its eventual doom, despite its wealth. Such an association may be too far-reaching, since in our texts Troy is described with these adjectives only once, although it is a very wealthy city according to tradition. Certainly Dolon’s wealth comes into play after his capture: when he promises Diomedes and Odysseus a great ransom (10.378–381) the traditional characteristic of his wealth indicates that he could indeed pay handsomely in exchange for his life.

316. mvp-comment-124-1 10.316 ὃς δή τοι εἶδος μὲν ἔην κακός, ἀλλὰ ποδώκης These two characteristics are contrasted, one negative (ugly) and one positive (swift-footed). The phrase εἶδος … κακός is analogous to the more frequently used constructions for being good-looking, such as εἶδος ἄριστος / - η ( Iliad 2.715, 3.39 = 13.769, 3.124, 13.365, 13.378, 17.142, Odyssey 11.469 = 24.17) and εἶδος ἀγητός / - όν / οί ( Iliad 5.787 = 8.228, 22.370, 24.376, Odyssey 14.177). Compositionally, it is most like Odyssey 11.469 (= 24.17), which is also a relative clause with ἔην between the noun and adjective.

316. mvp-comment-124-2 When we think of Homeric heroes who are explicitly labeled ugly, the first to come to mind is Thersites, who is described as “the ugliest man who came to Troy” ( αἴσχιστος δὲ ἀνὴρ ὑπὸ Ἴλιον ἦλθε, Iliad 2.216). We know that αἴσχιστος refers to his looks in particular because the next three lines expand on this adjective with details of his physical appearance: he is bandy-legged and lame in one foot, his shoulders hunch over his chest, and his head is pointy, with sparse hair on top ( Iliad 2.217–219). He is especially hateful to Achilles and Odysseus, two preeminent heroes of the epic tradition ( Iliad 2.220). Of course, Odysseus has a bitter encounter with Thersites in Iliad 2, and we know from Proklos’ summary of the Aithiopis that Achilles will eventually kill him in anger. Indeed, although we are told by the narrator that Thersites is a source of laughter ( γελοίϊον, Iliad 2.215), and in his lameness he might be thought similar to Hephaistos, whose bustling provokes laughter ( Iliad 1.599–600), Thersites provokes anger from the Achaeans (see Kouklanakis 1999). Dolon’s ugliness, by comparison, is not dwelled upon, and does not seem to provoke any particular strong reaction, whether ridicule, repulsion, or irritation (see, however, 10.400 for Odysseus’ smile and 10.446 for Diomedes’ glare as their reactions to Dolon upon his capture). Yet pairing Thersites and Dolon based on their looks might also suggest that, in the Iliad, Odysseus, whose own appearance is not unequivocally impressive ( Iliad 3.209–224), seems to have the role of confronting ugly men (but in neither case is he their killer).

316. mvp-comment-124-3 In contrast to his bad looks, Dolon does have the positive attribute of being swift-footed ( ποδώκης). For a traditional audience, as well as for us, the epithet “swift-footed” brings to mind Achilles, of course. Achilles has two other “distinctive” (in Parry’s terms) epithets that indicate his swiftness, ποδάρκης and πόδας ὠκύς (Parry, MHV 64, 145), but he is also called “swift-footed” with the adjective ποδώκης twenty-two times in the Iliad and twice in the Odyssey. In addition to Achilles and Dolon, the adjective is also used for horses four times (in one of these cases, it is applied to the horses’ drivers in an apparent transference of the epithet). So, here, the epithet evokes both Achilles and horses just before Dolon asks for Achilles’ horses as his reward for undertaking the spying mission (10.322–323). Achilles, we know, is the best looking of the Achaeans, as well as the best overall (his horses are the best as well, see Iliad 2.769–770), and the trait of swiftness that Dolon shares with him heightens the contrast of Dolon’s ugliness. As we will see below (10.330), there seems to be a prohibition on the taking of Achilles’ horses by his enemies within the Iliadic tradition, and Odysseus’ reaction to Dolon’s confession that he has been promised them also points to this contrast: Dolon is like Achilles in being fast, but he is no Achilles. Like Dolon, however, Achilles is also involved in ambushes at night (see e.g. Iliad 21.34–39 and “The Poetics of Ambush”). Achilles’ swiftness has been understood as an important quality in battle, and it may also be so for ambush missions. If this is the case, Dolon’s swiftness will likewise be important for the spying mission he volunteers to undertake. We will see Dolon run, but he is outsmarted and overtaken by Odysseus and Diomedes. In one of his Cretan lies, Odysseus claims to have ambushed and killed Orsilokhos, a son of Idomeneus, in Crete, and he says that Orsilokhos is swift-footed, faster than all other seafaring men in wide Crete ( Odyssey 13.259–270). That story provides another example of the victim of an ambusher being swift. It may be that the strategy involved in ambush is traditionally associated with overcoming physical talents, such as being a fast runner.

317. mvp-comment-125-1 10.317 αὐτὰρ ὃ μοῦνος ἔην μετὰ πέντε κασιγνήτῃσιν Dolon’s status as an only son may be a detail that increases the audience’s sympathy for his death. Although some modern scholars revile Dolon completely (on this line, see e.g. Holoka 1983:8–9 and Hainsworth 1993, who calls Dolon a “sissy”), an ancient audience might have reacted quite differently. For example, we might compare Ilioneus the son of Phorbas: he is a Trojan identified as an only son, and his brief life story, given at the moment of his death, seems intended to arouse sympathy based on that status ( Iliad 14.489–492). Both Achilles and Odysseus are only sons (as is Odysseus’ son Telemakhos, in the Odyssean tradition), and the epics offer intensely emotional scenes about the potential loss of the son. In Iliad 24.485–512, Priam appeals to Achilles to think of his father and how much he hopes to see his son return home, and Achilles weeps remembering both Patroklos and his father. In Odyssey 24.345–348, Laertes indeed sees his only son return home after twenty years and faints. We see the hope of and joy at the son’s return also embodied in a simile comparing Eumaios’ joy at greeting Telemakhos to a father greeting his only son ( μοῦνος at Odyssey 16.19, just as here) coming home from a foreign land in the tenth year, having suffered greatly ( Odyssey 16.17–19). Following this self-referential Odyssean simile, Eumaios kisses Telemakhos as though Telemakhos has escaped death. In fact, Telemakhos has just outsmarted the suitors in their ambush attempt, and so has escaped death (see also Odyssey 17.47, where Telemakhos says he has just escaped sheer destruction). Dolon will not return after he is ambushed, so his status as an only son should engender some sympathy for his father. Hainsworth (1993 ad loc.) objects to any notion of sympathy because Dolon’s status as an only son is mentioned here, but not at his death. At the moment of his departure, however, we already know that Dolon will die (10.336–337), so any sympathy evoked here is not that far from the indication of his death.

317. mvp-comment-125-2 The detail of Dolon’s five sisters might add to the pathos in a different way, for brothers are possible avengers, and Dolon has none. (As an example of a brother as an avenger, compare Iliad 14.478–485, where Akamas stands over his fallen brother, claiming a poinē for him and saying that a man prays to leave someone behind him in his home to avenge his death in battle.) The death of a brother often causes anger and desire for revenge (e.g. Iliad 9.567, 11.248–258, 16.320) or is offered as a standard measure of a great loss (e.g. Iliad 9.632–636, 24.46–49). Once Dolon is dead, his sisters have a potential future fate as captive women: both Andromache and Briseis mention the loss of their brothers in war as a factor in their dire straits ( Iliad 6.421–424 for Andromache; Iliad 19.293–294 for Briseis). Both of these factors, then, can be seen within the Homeric tradition to potentially evoke sympathy for Dolon’s death.

317. mvp-comment-125-3 Throughout the Iliad passages that introduce warriors just before they die and provide details of their biographies would likely have served a commemorative function, and, compressed though they are, often share themes and imagery with traditional female laments, such as those sung by Andromache, Briseis, and Achilles’ mother Thetis in the Iliad. Many of these passages seem to be focalized through the eyes of a mother or widow. There are several examples of this phenomenon. In Iliad 11.221–228, we hear the story of Iphidamas, who leaves behind his bride to “go after the kleos of the Achaeans.” In Iliad 4.473–489, we learn how Simoeisios comes to be named by his parents, and that he dies before he can repay their care in raising him. He is compared to a felled poplar, a use of plant imagery that is also common in lament. The death of Gorgythion at Iliad 8.302–308 is a particularly beautiful example of this kind of passage, for which we use the evocative translation of Samuel Butler:

The arrow hit Priam’s brave son faultless Gorgythion in the chest. His mother, fair Kastianeira, lovely as a goddess, bore him after she had been married from Aisyme, and now he bowed his head as a garden poppy in full bloom when it is weighed down by showers in spring—even thus heavy bowed his head beneath the weight of his helmet.

translation based on that of Samuel Butler We can easily imagine these words spoken in the first person by Kastianeira upon learning of the death of her son in battle. Indeed, epic poetry is infused with the imagery, themes, and language of lament, so much so that a number of scholars have speculated that women’s lament traditions played a crucial role in the development of epic. Epic poetry narrates the glory of heroes, the klea andrōn, but it also laments their untimely deaths and the suffering they cause. That these lament-filled passages are more often than not sung for the death of the Trojans and their allies, and in this case the spy Dolon, is a testament to the remarkable parity of compassion that underlies the Iliad. Both sides are mourned equally. On the relationship between lament and epic, women’s songs and men’s songs, see Murnaghan 1999, Nagy 1999, Sultan 1999, and Dué 2002 and 2006a. On the mortality of the hero as a central theme of epic, see also Schein 1984, Greene 1999, and above on 10.259. On passages that lament the death of heroes in a highly compressed form, such as the one quoted from Iliad 8 here, see also Tsagalis 2004:179–187. Tsagalis argues that lament is “the form of speech that best represents the poem’s perspective” (167). If he is right then it is illuminating to consider that Dolon may once have been understood to be as deserving of sympathy and lamentation as any of the warriors who fall in battle in the Iliad.

319. mvp-comment-126-1 10.319 Ἕκτορ ἒμ’ ὀτρύνει κραδίη καὶ θυμὸς ἀγήνωρ The same formula is used when Diomedes volunteers, with Nestor’s name in place of Hektor’s. See the commentary on 10.244 for the connection between “heart and audacious spirit” ( κραδίη καὶ θυμὸς ἀγήνωρ) and alternative warfare tactics like spying missions or ambush.

325-327. mvp-comment-127-1 10.325–327 As we know from 10.56, 10.126–127, 10.180, and 10.198–199, the council first gathers at the watch station and then crosses the ditch to hold their deliberations. Dolon’s supposition of where to find them, then, is wrong, but not entirely misguided. Earlier that morning, the Trojan herald Idaios found the Achaeans assembled near the stern of Agamemnon’s ship ( Iliad 7.382–383). Earlier on this night Agamemnon held a council of the leaders in his shelter ( Iliad 9.89–90), and it was there that the embassy returned to deliver their news ( Iliad 9.669). Another council had been held at night at Nestor’s ship ( Iliad 2.53–54). That such councils are usually held at the ships gives even greater meaning to the choice of a meeting place across the ditch (see on 10.194 and 10.199).

325-327. mvp-comment-127-2 Another question that scholars have raised about his supposition, however, is whether Dolon is ignorant of the ditch and wall, since he does not mention them. In discussing another so-called problem connected to the wall—namely, whether or not it is present in Iliad 10, and if it is, how Agamemnon can see over it to the Trojan camp at the beginning of the Book—Shewan (1911:181) argues against such prosaic demands of the poetry. Fenik (1964:60) argues that presuming some version of the Doloneia in which there is no wall goes too far, and he notes that, in the Rhesos (213), Dolon is aware of the ditch and the wall but intends to be able to spy anyway. So when Dolon says that he will go through the Achaean encampment all the way to Agamemnon’s ship, we can easily understand that he is including making his way across the ditch and wall. But, of course, he will never make it that far. Exactly how he will get over them becomes a moot point, especially given that this is a traditional story in which his fortunes are not only known but are even foretold as he leaves (see below on 10.336–337).

329. mvp-comment-128-1 10.329 Ζεὺς αὐτὸς ἐρίγδουπος πόσις Ἥρης At 10.5 Zeus is named only as “the husband of Hera with her beautiful hair” ( πόσις Ἥρης ἠϋκόμοιο); here, his name is combined with the epithet phrase “the loud-sounding husband of Hera.” These two epithets reveal more about how oral traditional language operates within composition-in-performance. Zeus is called the husband of Hera with these two formulas, and Alexander is called “radiant Alexander, the husband of Helen, with her beautiful hair” ( δῖος Ἀλέξανδρος Ἑλένης πόσις ἠϋκόμοιο, Iliad 3.329 = 7.355 = 8.82; see also Iliad 11.369 and 11.505, where δῖος is replaced by αὐτάρ and εἰ μή, respectively). In Homeric diction the word πόσις is used in other cases, such as that of Hektor as the husband of Andromache ( Iliad 6.484, 8.190, 22.439) and of Odysseus as the husband of Penelope in the Odyssey (18.253, 19.126, 19.549), when the wife of a man is part of his epic identity and so is used in naming him within the tradition. In the case of Paris and Zeus, then, that key relationship has been fashioned into traditional epithets. Their epithets that include the adjective ἠϋκόμοιο have likely been formed by analogy. Parry notes that the formula found on this line is especially associated with prayer, whether expressing a wish or calling Zeus to witness oaths (MHV 181–182; for an oath, compare Iliad 7.411). See above on 10.305 for the prefix ἐρι-.

330. mvp-comment-129-1 10.330 ἐποχήσεται This verb is likewise used (in its only other appearance in our texts) at Iliad 17.449, when Zeus will not allow Hektor to take Achilles’ horses after he kills Patroklos, whom the horses mourn nearby. A telling cross-reference can be made, then, with this resonant verb: Hektor promises to Dolon that no one else will take Achilles’ horses, and in Book 17 it is Hektor himself who is prohibited from doing so by Zeus. Within the larger tradition, this verb may be part of a traditional vocabulary about Achilles’ horses and may therefore evoke for a traditional audience the embedded knowledge that Achilles will never lose his horses to his enemies. (See also below at 10.402–404.) At Iliad 17.75–78, Apollo actively dissuades Hektor from going after the horses. Disguised as Mentes, Apollo tells Hektor that he runs in pursuit of something unattainable ( Ἕκτορ νῦν σὺ μὲν ὧδε θέεις ἀκίχητα διώκων). In both of these cases, it is a god who forbids the theft from happening, and Zeus recalls there how it was the gods who gave the horses to Peleus. That the horses were originally a wedding gift to Peleus from the gods may account for why Achilles’ horses are not subject to the same vagaries of warfare as, say, Rhesos’ horses are. Deep familiarity with this vocabulary would also shape the audience’s reception of the request by Dolon and promise by Hektor.

331. mvp-comment-130-1 10.331 ἀγλαϊεῖσθαι is a hapax legomenon: that is, this verb appears only here in our texts. Some critics who have argued that Iliad 10 is later and/or separate from the rest of the Iliad use the number of hapax legomena in this book as evidence of different composition and/or authorship. Yet an understanding of oral poetics and the techniques of oral composition-in-performance can account for such seeming anomalies in a different way. When we look at the entire “database” that the Iliad and Odyssey provide, we find, not this verb, of course, but the adjective ἀγλαός used in many contexts in which the heroes receive material goods as a result of their actions. Most often the phrase is ἀγλαὰ δῶρα (used twenty-one times in our texts). These gifts “shine” not just physically (as they do if they happen to be made of precious metal), but metonymically as the physical manifestation of the radiant glory the hero either has won or stands to win. (See on 10.212–213 above for the connection between gifts and glory in this epic tradition.) We also see phrases like ἀγλά’ ἄποινα ( Iliad 1.23 = 1.377, Iliad 1.111), ἀγλά’ ἄεθλα ( Iliad 23.262), and even ἀγλαὸν εὖχος ( Iliad 7.203) in contexts in which the hero has something to gain through his victory. These phrases may have been created by analogy with the phrase ἀγλαὰ δῶρα, especially because the idea of victory bringing both gifts and glory was so fundamental (see Parry MHV 68–76 for the principle of analogy in the composition of oral poetry). So if a singer has learned the idea encapsulated in the adjective, it would be natural to create a phrase using the verb instead. As Albert Lord has argued, the language of oral poetry operates just like spoken language, and learning and using the language of the poetry is no more mechanical and no less fluid than learning and using a spoken language (Lord 1960/2000:35–37). And in fact, a related, compound verb form, ἐπαγλαίεσθαι, is used to describe Hektor exulting in Achilles’ armor, which he puts on after he strips it from Patroklos’ corpse ( Iliad 18.133). So even if from our perspective it may seem that this verb is unusual within the texts we have, we cannot say that all those uses of the adjective were sung and resung before any singer thought to use the verb in the same kind of context. The fact that ἀγλαϊεῖσθαι is a hapax does not prove that it is untraditional. In fact, in making such determinations, we need to examine whether the idea, and not just the morphology, of the word or phrase is traditional if we are to understand it properly within the system of the poetic language.

332. mvp-comment-131-1 10.332 ὣς φάτο καί ῥ᾽ ἐπίορκον ἐπώμοσε In the other instances of ἐπίορκον and related words in the Iliad it means a ‘false oath’: that is, one swears an oath and then violates it, or one is lying when he swears about some action in the past. At Iliad 3.276–280, Agamemnon calls on Zeus, Helios, the Earth, the rivers, and those in the underworld who punish swearers of false oaths ( ἐπίορκον, Iliad 3.279) to guard the sanctity of the oaths that the Achaeans and Trojans are about to take in advance of the duel between Menelaos and Paris. In Iliad 19.187–188, Agamemnon responds to Odysseus’ request that he swear to Achilles that he never slept with Briseis by saying that he is willing to swear to it and that he is not falsely swearing ( οὐδ’ ἐπιορκήσω). When Briseis is then brought back to Achilles, Agamemnon does indeed take an oath to that effect, beginning it in much the same way as in Iliad 3 ( Iliad 19.260 ≈ Iliad 3.279), but adding the stipulation that, if he is swearing falsely ( ἐπίορκον, Iliad 19.264), he wishes that the gods may give him the many sufferings that they give to those who transgress their oaths. These contexts leave little doubt that the false oath is either intentionally broken or is an intentional lie.

332. mvp-comment-131-2 Yet in this case readers, translators, and critics over the ages have been reluctant to think of Hektor as intentionally lying. Over a dozen manuscripts have ἐπεὶ ὅρκον, and some of these have it as a “correction,” indicating perhaps a felt need to remove the characterization of Hektor’s words as an intentionally false oath. The main scholia in the Venetus A similarly suggest that Hektor is not purposefully swearing a false oath, but that it is false because what he swears will happen is not fulfilled ( οὐχ οἷον ἑκουσίως, ἀλλὰ διὰ τὸ ἀποτελεσθῆναι τοῦτο, ὅπερ ὤμοσεν). Cunliffe (1963) likewise makes an exception of this use in his lexicon, saying its use is “here of unintentional falsity, the fulfilment of the oath turning out to be impossible.” As we have just seen on 10.300, fulfillment of the oath is indeed impossible, and because there is no sense that Hektor should be punished (an idea that does appear in the other contexts), perhaps we should interpret Hektor’s oath as unintentionally false. In Iliad 17, Hektor goes after the horses himself, suggesting that he does not know that they cannot be captured by an enemy of Achilles.

332. mvp-comment-131-3 But there are other possibilities for interpretation by a traditional audience. The Trojans are portrayed as oath breakers, as when Pandaros breaks the ceasefire in Iliad 4 (Idomeneus explicitly says the Trojans have broken their oaths at Iliad 4.269–270). Even for the duel between Paris and Menelaos itself, Agamemnon requires Priam to come to the battlefield to swear the oath because he does not trust his sons ( Iliad 3.105–106). The earlier Trojan king Laomedon reneged on his deals both with Apollo and Poseidon for building the walls of Troy (see Iliad 21.439–460) and with Herakles, to whom he had promised to give his horses upon the rescue of his daughter Hesione (an episode alluded to at Iliad 5.640). So a traditional audience might have understood Hektor’s promise within the general traditional framework of Trojan promises in return for work or missions that are subsequently broken. Another possibility is offered in the tragedy Rhesos, where Hektor makes plain that he has designs on getting Achilles’ horses for himself, recounting their immortal origins ( Rhesos 184–188). When he acquiesces to Dolon’s request, he explicitly says that he will not be false ( ἀλλ’ οὔ σ’ ἐπάρας ψεύσομαι, Rhesos 189). The Rhesos employs different, yet traditional, narrative possibilities for the story (Fenik 1964), and the possibility that Hektor really plans to get Achilles’ horses for himself may underlie the mention of a false oath here in a compression of details that would have meaning nevertheless for a traditional audience.