180-189. mvp-comment-59-1 10.180–189 As we discuss in the introductory essay “The Poetics of Ambush,” this simile emphasizes the sounds that are made in the dark, as well as describing a scenario of being on the defensive against a nocturnal attack (see above, pp. 63–64).

183. mvp-comment-60-1 10.183 δυσωρήσωνται is another hapax legomenon, appearing only in Iliad 10, but we can understand why it might only appear once in our extant Homeric epics from the simile’s interaction with its context. Although in other parts of the poem there are similes describing predatory animals attacking domestic flocks at night, and the retaliation of men and dogs (see e.g. Iliad 11.546–557), here the simile is for a particularly “painful” night watch. It is painful both because the young men on guard duty have had an extremely hard day of fighting and because the Trojans are camped out for the first time, closer than ever, during this night. (See also the commentary on 10.331 for more on words that appear only in Iliad 10.)

194. mvp-comment-61-1 10.194 τάφροιο διέσσυτο The act of crossing the ditch for the meeting conveys a spatial significance to the need the Achaeans feel and the plan they will construct to meet it. In Iliad 7, the Achaeans created a new boundary on the landscape by building their wall and ditch. The wall was built in the dark, before the dawn ( Iliad 7.433). In the subsequent daytime battles, the boundary created by these two elements is of the utmost importance. M. L. West notes that “once they have been built they are frequently mentioned again, in every book from the eighth to the eighteenth, as well as in the twentieth and twenty-fourth” (1969:255). The boundary is mentioned either in order to indicate who is winning at that point or whenever the tide of battle turns. In the battle that takes place on the day before the night of Iliad 10, for example, Hektor pens in the Achaeans behind the wall so that the entire space is filled with men and horses ( Iliad 8.213–216). The Achaeans rally after some inspiration from the gods and cross the ditch on the offensive ( Iliad 8.253–265), but Hektor forces them back over the ditch as he once again takes the upper hand ( Iliad 8.340–343). And, of course, the boundary will become even more significant the day after the night of Iliad 10, as the Trojans themselves cross it and threaten the ships with fire (the Trojans pass over the ditch and wall at the end of Iliad 12). Since the wall and ditch act as a threshold between the camp and the battlefield, one way of understanding the leaders crossing the ditch to hold their meeting is as a shift toward being on the offensive. Only the ditch is mentioned here: Petegorsky (1982:238n13) suggests that the “absence” of the wall presages its breach the next day. (For more on the poetic possibilities and traditional associations offered by the Achaean wall, see Boyd 1995.)

199. mvp-comment-62-1 10.199 ἐν καθαρῷ, ὅθι δὴ νεκύων διεφαίνετο χῶρος Another significant feature of the landscape on this night is the number of corpses left on the battlefield. No truce has been allowed this time for the gathering of the dead (compare the truce agreed to at Iliad 7.407–411). The Trojan camp is also in a space specifically said to be free of corpses (this same line is also used at Iliad 8.491), and a picture of the landscape covered with corpses is repeatedly evoked (10.298, 10.343 = 10.387, 10.469). Such a detail is a reminder of the intense battle of the day before, which is the reason both for the embassy to Achilles and for this meeting, which will result in the spying mission and ambush. It is also a harbinger of the even greater battle that will happen on the next day, adding to the eerie atmosphere of the nighttime landscape.

205. mvp-comment-63-1 10.205 θυμῷ τολμήεντι For the importance of a “daring (or enduring) heart” for spying missions or ambush, see below on 10.231, 10.244, and 10.248, as well as “The Poetics of Ambush.”

206-210. mvp-comment-64-1 10.206–210 Fenik (1964:41) excoriates these lines, calling the idea that the Trojans might retreat into the city “wholly fatuous,” and he uses them to inquire “whether some special grounds, other than general incompetence, were responsible for the K poet’s extraordinary failure here.” But the assumption that a different, individual author composed these lines leads to the kind of evaluation that Fenik makes. Instead, using approaches based in oral poetics, we can see how these lines do not ignore the situation that the Iliad has presented, but rather resonate with what is to come. Diomedes and Odysseus will indeed capture (and kill, ἕλοι can mean both) someone at the edge of the enemy ( ἐσχατόωντα): in fact, this can allude to both Dolon, from whom they will get information, and Rhesos, whose army is described as encamped at the edge: ἔσχατοι ἄλλων (10.434). Just so, the Trojans will not consider retreating on this night, though they will the next night (see Iliad 18.243–313). Petegorsky (1982:225–230) argues that Nestor’s proposal anticipates the later Trojan council scenes, during the next day’s fighting, particularly that in Iliad 18, in anticipation of Achilles’ return.

211-212. mvp-comment-65-1 10.211–212 καὶ ἂψ εἰς ἡμέας ἔλθοι / ἀσκηθὴς When he proposes the spying mission, Nestor includes the crucial completion of the mission: namely, that the spy return to report what he has found out. The return of the spy ‘unscathed’ connects to the greater theme, and it shares concepts with the theme of the journey. One concern with any of these nighttime or secret operations, such as spying missions or ambushes, is that, if those who undertake them do not return, their comrades may never know what happened to them. Whether, how, and by whom a spy has been killed cannot be verified, and it is such knowledge that allows a warrior to be buried and honored after death. This lack of knowledge provides a strong contrast to daytime battle, in which one comrade will see another fall, and will subsequently go to protect his corpse or to attack his killer in retaliation. That sequence in battle is a pattern we see again and again in the Iliad. The same contrast between a death in open battle (bringing honor) and a death that occurs on a journey (resulting in an inability to bury and honor the person lost because of a lack of knowledge as well as the lack of the corpse) is expressed by loved ones of Odysseus in the Odyssey. The sentiment is first expressed by Telemakhos:

But now the gods have willed it otherwise, devising evils,

235 who have made that man [Odysseus] unseen beyond all

mortals, since I would not grieve this way at his death

if among his comrades he was subdued in the district of the Trojans

or in the hands of his friends, when he had finished war.

All the Achaeans would have made a burial mound for him,

240 and he would have won great fame [ kleos] even for his child in the future.

But now the Arpuiai whirlwinds have snatched him up without fame [ kleos].

He is gone, unseen, unheard of. And for me pain and laments

he left behind.

Later ( Odyssey 14.365–372), Eumaios says something very similar in response to the disguised Odysseus’ story about the fate of Odysseus. He, too, contrasts the unknown circumstances of Odysseus’ presumed death at sea with a death in battle, after which a man’s comrades can bury him. A known death in battle brings kleos, which, having as its root meaning ‘something heard’ (see Nagy 1979:16, §2n3), is contrasted in Telemakhos’ words not only with an “unglorious” death ( Odyssey 1.241) but also with Odysseus himself, who is “unseen” and “unheard of” ( Odyssey 1.242). In Iliad 10, in the same line as ἀσκηθής (10.212), Nestor promises kleos to the man who undertakes this mission, but the return is necessary for that kleos to come about. For if a man were to go out on a nighttime spying mission, or an ambush, and not come back, he, too, would be unseen, unheard of, and could not be buried or honored properly.

211-212. mvp-comment-65-2 So the need to complete the mission, the need for a return, is one way that a spying mission resembles a journey in epic diction. Coming back unscathed, ἀσκηθής, is used elsewhere in Homeric epic of a return home or of some other completion of a journey. It is used prominently in Odyssey 5 of the need to have both Telemakhos ( Odyssey 5.26) and Odysseus ( Odyssey 5.144, 5.168) return to their fatherland ( πατρίδα γαῖαν). At the very beginning of the story of his wanderings, Odysseus says that he would have returned home unscathed if the sea currents had not prevented him from making his way to Ithaka ( Odyssey 9.79–81). Thus arriving unscathed seems especially associated with sailing journeys, as Odysseus also uses it in one of his Cretan lies, in this case for an easy sailing from Crete to Egypt ( Odyssey 14.255; cf. Solon fr. 19 [West], who says that Kypris sent him home unscathed [ askēthēs] in a fast ship for a good homecoming [ nostos] to his own land). In one additional case in the Odyssey, Odysseus tells Achilles that Neoptolemos was very successful in battle and ambush (see pp. 47–48), and later adds that he was never hurt in the fighting—he was ἀσκηθής, never touched by a weapon. Although the context has referred to both battle and ambush, the word actually describes Neoptolemos as he boards his ship for the journey home, again displaying the connection between sailing journeys and nostos. The “Odyssean” language that many scholars have noted in Book 10, and have even cited as proof of its non-Iliadic nature, may be a thematic result, not only of the greater prominence of ambush in the Odyssey, but also of this thematic overlap between spying missions or ambushes and journeys, especially journeys home and those over the sea.

211-212. mvp-comment-65-3 In the Iliad, ἀσκηθής is used in one other context, and that is, in fact, daytime battle. As Achilles prays to Zeus that Patroklos will be successful in saving the Achaeans and their ships from the Trojan onslaught, he asks as well that Patroklos then return unscathed to him at the swift ships: ἀσκηθής μοι ἔπειτα θοὰς ἐπὶ νῆας ἵκοιτο ( Iliad 16.247). Patroklos is not going on an ambush here, and there is no concern that what happens to him will be unknown. Instead, the fact that he is going as Achilles’ substitute must also be a special kind of departure for battle, and the desire for the substitute to come back unscathed evokes this same word (see Nagy 1979:292–295 for Patroklos as a ritual substitute for Achilles in this battle). Zeus’ reaction is to grant the first part of Achilles’ prayer, but not the safe return: σόον δ’ ἀνένευσε μάχης ἐξαπονέεσθαι ( Iliad 16.252). Petegorsky (1982:220–221) argues that these two uses of ἀσκηθής in the Iliad highlight the isolation of Patroklos going into battle without Achilles, in contrast to the pairing of Diomedes and Odysseus.

212-213. mvp-comment-66-1 10.212–213 κλέος ‘glory in song’ and δόσις ‘gift’ are not incompatible rewards in Homeric epic. Throughout the Iliad material prizes are a physical manifestation of a warrior’s place in the song tradition and are a major sources of contention among heroes. In Iliad 1, when Agamemnon threatens to take Achilles’ prize ( γέρας), the woman Briseis, Achilles says that he does not intend to continue fighting ἄτιμος (‘without honor’, Iliad 1.171). As Casey Dué has noted, the dispute over prize women in Iliad 1 is actually about τιμή ( Iliad 1.161, 1.174, 1.412, 1.503–510). This word is generally translated as ‘honor’, but it conveys specifically the honor heroes receive after death in cult and song as immortalized heroes (Dué 2002:45; see also Nagy 1979:118). In Iliad 9, Achilles, struggling with his mortality, rejects the gifts of Agamemnon and at the same time rejects the glorious death he will have in battle ( Iliad 9.410–416). So too do the competitions for the prizes at the funeral games for Patroklos in Iliad 23 have far greater significance than their material value. In Iliad 23.700–737, Ajax and Odysseus compete in wrestling, foreshadowing their competition for the arms of Achilles after his death and for the title of “best of the Achaeans.” In Iliad 23, neither can decisively defeat the other, and eventually Achilles calls the contest a draw, pronouncing that the victory (along with two equal prizes) belongs to both. (The individual contests have been analyzed by various scholars. See e.g. Douglas Frame’s analysis of the chariot race in Frame 2009:131–172 and further bibliography ad loc.) In Iliad 24, Achilles accepts a ransom for Hektor’s body, even though he knows that he too will soon be dead. He asks Patroklos not to be angry with him for accepting it, and says that they will share it equally ( Iliad 24.589–595).

212-213. mvp-comment-66-2 When we understand that prizes are inextricably linked with kleos in this tradition, we can better understand episodes in which heroes act in ways that we might call “selfish,” episodes which are often incompatible with modern notions of heroism (see e.g. Stanford 1965 ad Odyssey 9.229). The Little Iliad, according to Proklos, narrated the theft of the Palladion, a story that survives in several variant versions in which Diomedes or Odysseus or both try to get sole possession of it, betraying the other (see Gantz 1993:643–644). Likewise, Rick Newton (2008 and 2009) has discussed the way that Odysseus seeks gifts at the expense of his comrades throughout his adventures. Newton suggests that, in the Odyssey, guest-gifts function like a geras does in the Iliad: guest-gifts, whatever their intrinsic material value, are tokens of honor and prestige for their recipient (cf. Odyssey 5.29–42 and 11.355–361). Odysseus’ heroic pursuit of guest-gifts generates delays in his homecoming and is instrumental in causing the death of his comrades along the way. See also Newton 2005, especially p. 141: “[In] Odyssean hospitality … the acquisition of property … enhances the honor and status of the hero … But that heroic hospitality, like successful warfare in the Iliad, comes at a price, and a high one … Odysseus will reach Ithaca late and alone.” An analogy can be made between the Iliadic deaths of countless Achaeans due to Achilles’ wrath over his stripped geras and the loss of Odysseus’ entire fleet and crew during his Odyssey nostos.

212-213. mvp-comment-66-3 Note also that Nestor says there is kleos for undertaking a spying mission, making it parallel to fighting in battle. Nestor promises the sheep and a share at a banquet (see Nagy 1979:118–141 for connections between hero cult and portions at feasts), but the horses of Rhesos also become the reward and a visible sign of the success Diomedes and Odysseus achieve.

219. mvp-comment-67-1 10.219 βοὴν ἀγαθὸς See below on 10.283 for more on this epithet.

220. mvp-comment-68-1 10.220 ἒμ’ ὀτρύνει κραδίη καὶ θυμὸς ἀγήνωρ In a simile in Iliad 12, when Sarpedon is about to make his attack on the Achaean wall, we see a lion on ambush ( Iliad 12.299–308). The lion is hungry, but it is nevertheless his audacious heart that bids him to attack the flocks and go to their densely packed enclosure ( κέλεται δέ ἑ θυμὸς ἀγήνωρ / μήλων πειρήσοντα καὶ ἐς πυκινὸν δόμον ἐλθεῖν, Iliad 12.300–301). He is desperate enough that he will make his attack even though the flocks are guarded by dogs and men. The formula θυμὸς ἀγήνωρ thus is used to indicate the motivation to undertake a particularly risky endeavor, and it seems to be used frequently, though not exclusively, for nighttime or ambush situations. Here, the nocturnal nature of the lion’s attack is not explicit, but is implied by the animals being in their pen and by the use of the adjective pukinos for that pen (see above on 10.5–9 for more on the associations between pukinos and ambush). Other examples of ambush contexts in which we see the formula θυμὸς ἀγήνωρ include the suitors’ plan to ambush Telemakhos ( Odyssey 4.658), Odysseus preparing the wine-skin before he meets Polyphemos ( Odyssey 9.213), and the ambushes Odysseus describes in one of his Cretan lies ( Odyssey 14.217–219). See below on 10.244 for more on the qualities of κραδίη καὶ θυμὸς ἀγήνωρ and their association with nighttime spying missions and ambush. See also below on 10.297 for more on similes involving lions at night.

222. mvp-comment-69-1 10.222 On the significance of the verb ἕπομαι, which is also used of gods who “accompany” heroes, see on 10.285.

224-226. mvp-comment-70-1 10.224–226 Anthony Edwards (1985:22) identifies two leaders as a common feature of the Homeric ambush, and so Diomedes’ request for a partner may already indicate that the spying mission that Nestor proposed will become an ambush. Robert Rabel (1991, see esp. 288–291) sees an emphasis in Iliad 10 on cooperation among heroes in order to achieve success that contrasts strongly with Achilles’ choice to “go it alone” in Iliad 9. In Diomedes’ description of the ideal night raid team, νόος and νοέω are cited three times in three lines, together with μῆτις (cf. Iliad 23.590). It is no surprise, therefore, that he chooses Odysseus. For Odysseus’ association with mētis and noos, see on 10.137 and 10.247, respectively.

227-231. mvp-comment-71-1 10.227–231 We can compare this list with the list of those willing to duel with Hektor (after Nestor’s rebuke) in Iliad 7.162–168. These lists comprise a kind of subtheme that occurs in these types of “selection” situations but also in situations in which the Achaeans “regroup” to fight back (e.g. Iliad 8.261–266, after Diomedes leads the charge). This subtheme seems related both to the idea of volunteering for dangerous assignments, and, in the larger scheme, to the contention among the heroes for who is the “best”—for more on which, see below on 10.236.

228. mvp-comment-72-1 10.228 Αἴαντε As discussed above on 10.53, at one time this dual referred to the fighting team of Ajax and Teucer, which would be a most appropriate meaning here. The dual, then, could mean not that Ajax son of Telamon and Ajax son of Oileus each individually volunteered (no other two warriors are listed as volunteering this way), but rather that Ajax and Teucer volunteered as a team. This interpretation is strengthened by the fact that two-horse chariot teams are described in the dual (as at 10.530–531), as are Diomedes and Odysseus when they are working as a unit, as we will see. (See below on 10.243.) Likewise, when Diomedes makes his case for taking a partner on the expedition (10.222–226), he uses the dual to describe the advantages of such a pair. The Aktorione-Molione, the possibly conjoined twins who fought Nestor in his youth ( Iliad 11.709–752 and 23.638–642), are, of course, yet another pair of warriors who are described in the dual. The dual thus seems to be a traditional way of referring to a closely linked fighting team.

228. mvp-comment-72-2 If the dual in this line is referring to Ajax and Teucer, then there is no mention of Ajax the son Oileus volunteering. We can speculate that in some performances of Iliad 10, especially those composed at a time when the dual was understood to refer to Ajax and Teucer, this dual meant that fighting team, although in our version Ajax son of Oileus is specifically named as someone to gather for the meeting at 10.110. It is worth noting that in Iliad 7.164, when the two Ajaxes are included among the heroes who volunteer to fight Hektor one-on-one, the form attested there is the plural, not the dual.

231. mvp-comment-73-1 10.231 ὁ τλήμων Ὀδυσεὺς On this epithet, Milman Parry offers the following:

MHV 82 For more on the significance of this epithet, see below on 10.248, where we connect Odysseus’ epithets from τλάω with the endurance and daring required for ambush. Here, we see both semantic fields of the word at work: ὁ τλήμων Ὀδυσεὺς is followed in the very next line by the phrase: αἰεὶ γὰρ οἱ ἐνὶ φρεσὶ θυμὸς ἐτόλμα (“For the spirit [ thumos] in his heart [ phrēn] was always daring”; on the thumos as the motivator in risky undertakings, see also on 10.220 above). If we connect Odysseus’ epithet to the theme of ambush, we need not state with Parry that it could never have been invented for the Iliad, or assert that it is more appropriate for the Odyssey (Hainsworth 1993 ad loc.). Rather, it is appropriate in an ambush context, wherever that theme is invoked. On the significance of the definite article here, see Haft 1990:46–48 (with further bibliography ad loc.), who notes that although ὁ + epithet phrases are relatively rare in Homer, ὁ τλήμων Ὀδυσεὺς is one of four such phrases applied to Odysseus in the Iliad and Odyssey, and should be understood as demonstrative (i.e. “that [well-known] enduring Odysseus”). See also on 10.363.

234. mvp-comment-74-1 10.234 Τυδείδη Διόμηδες ἐμῷ κεχαρισμένε θυμῷ For commentary on this full line formula of address, see on 10.144 above.

236. mvp-comment-75-1 10.236 τὸν ἄριστον Agamemnon tells Diomedes to choose the “best” man. The question of who is the “best of the Achaeans” is a theme that runs throughout the Iliad, as Gregory Nagy has shown. In the catalogue of ships ( Iliad 2.761), the narrator asks the Muses who was the best ( aristos) of the Achaeans, and answers that it was Ajax, so long as Achilles had mēnis (2.768–769). But as Nagy points out, the claim to being best of the Achaeans is a disputed and divided one in the Iliad, precisely because the acknowledged best, Achilles, has withdrawn. The Odyssey tradition is not divided, however. There, Odysseus is the unquestioned best (Nagy 1979:26–35 and passim). So too in the Doloneia tradition is Odysseus the “best,” and here he is so in part because of his association with nostos ‘return, homecoming’, as Diomedes states explicitly (see below on 10.243).

236. mvp-comment-75-2 An interesting correlation to this competition to be the “best” in epic is that ambushes feature the “best” men. (See also Edwards 1985:18–24.) There are several examples of the best men going on ambush in Homeric epic. Achilles states that Agamemnon does not go on ambush with the best ( σύν ἀριστήεσσιν, Iliad 1.227). Idomeneus’ description of ambush involves a gathering of the best ( ἄριστοι, Iliad 13.276). Those in the Wooden Horse are the best ( Odyssey 4.272, 8.512–513, 11.523–524), and the best men are selected for ambushes of Bellerophon ( Iliad 6.188), Proteus ( Odyssey 4.409), and Agamemnon ( Odyssey 4.530–531). Even in a Cretan lie, Odysseus says that he used to choose the best men for ambush ( Odyssey 14.217–218). We can also see that the best are involved in ambush warfare because both Odysseus and Achilles participate in nighttime ambushes (see “The Poetics of Ambush”).

237-240. mvp-comment-76-1 10.237–240 The narrator makes clear that Agamemnon is referring to his brother Menelaos when he advises Diomedes not to choose his partner based on social status. See above on 10.30–31 and 10.121 for how Menelaos is portrayed as not the best choice. It is, however, an unexpected argument coming from Agamemnon, who depends on social status for his authority, as we see in his dispute with Achilles in Iliad 1 (see also Wilson 2002 for her argument that Agamemnon relies on this kind of status). It is also Agamemnon who insists on his status as kinglier ( βασιλεύτερός, 10.239) in Book 9 (160), arguing that Achilles should yield to him for that reason. (Although Odysseus leaves that argument out when he delivers Agamemnon’s offer to Achilles, Achilles seems to know it anyway, as he says in his response that Agamemnon should give his daughter in marriage to someone who is kinglier than he [ Iliad 9.392].) This word thus provides a telling thematic contrast to the embassy, and perhaps is an indication that the two nighttime missions are performance alternatives of each other. We should also note that, in ambush, being the “best” is defined strictly in terms of the skills needed to be successful, and not in terms of social standing. The question of how to define the “best” that underlies the conflict between Agamemnon and Achilles is made explicitly moot for this spying mission.

240. mvp-comment-77-1 10.240 This verse was omitted altogether in the text of Zenodotus (that is to say, it was not present in his text). It was present in the texts of Aristarchus, but he athetized it. The A scholia on these lines say that it was athetized because it is redundant ( περισσὸς), tacked on ( παρέλκων), and not in keeping with Homer’s dianoia, all of which are common reasons given in the scholia for athetesis. As noted above (see on 10.51–52), Alexandrian editors frequently drew on their own sense of what is appropriate and poetic to determine the authenticity of verses, and athetized those they felt were not in keeping with those standards. It was the practice of Aristarchus, however, to leave verses that were well attested in the texts available to him in his text, and to indicate by way of the athetesis mark his objection to them. Zenodotus’ text seems to have been considerably shorter than that of Aristarchus. We may compare 10.253, which received treatment similar to 10.240. It was omitted in the text of Zenodotus, and present but athetized in the texts of Aristarchus and Aristophanes of Byzantium. Martin West (2001a) has speculated that Zenodotus’ shorter text derives from an Ionian rhapsodic performance tradition, as opposed to the Athenian tradition on which the other Alexandrian editors seem to have relied.

241. mvp-comment-78-1 10.241 βοὴν ἀγαθὸς See below on 10.283 for more on this epithet.

243. mvp-comment-79-1 10.243 πῶς ἂν ἔπειτ᾽ Ὀδυσῆος ἐγὼ θείοιο λαθοίμην Diomedes chooses Odysseus to go with him on the expedition, and that choice is marked in the formulaic language by a shift to the dual from 10.254 onwards, where the two heroes are understood to be a closely linked pair. (See also above on the dual Αἴαντε at 10.53 and 10.228.) The ensuing events of this book have long troubled scholars, who find the actions of Odysseus and Diomedes during this night raid to be un-Homeric and even un-heroic. (See “The Poetics of Ambush.”) But if we look at the Greek epic tradition as a whole, taking into account what we know of the now lost poems of the Epic Cycle, we find that Diomedes and Odysseus traditionally excel at the kind of ambush warfare depicted in Iliad 10. Diomedes is a stellar fighter in the polemos, but he is equally good at the lokhos. The sack of Troy is the ultimate night ambush, and both Odysseus and Diomedes are involved in several nighttime escapades leading up to and during its fall, including the following.

243. mvp-comment-79-2 In testimonium 34 [Bernabé] of the Cypria, a lesser-known version of Polyxena’s story has her being wounded by Odysseus and Diomedes during the sack.

Scholia to Euripides, Hecuba 41

Euripides and Ibycus say that Polyxena’s throat was cut by Neoptolemos. But the composer of the Cypria says that she died after being wounded by Odysseus and Diomedes in the capture of the city.

In the Little Iliad, Odysseus seems to have been connected to the ambush and capture of Helenos, the prophetic son of Priam, and it is Diomedes, according to Proklos, who brings back Philoktetes from Lemnos. (Cf. Sophocles’ Philoktetes, where Odysseus is the one who goes to get him.) Philoktetes’ presence is required, according to Helenos, for the successful capture of Troy:

μετὰ ταῦτα Ὀδυσσεὺς λοχήσας Ἕλενον λαμβάνει, καὶ χρήσαντος περὶ τῆς ἁλώσεως τούτου Διομήδης ἐκ Λήμνου Φιλοκτήτην ἀνάγει.

Little Iliad, from the summary of Proklos

After this Odysseus captures Helenos in an ambush, and as a result of Helenos’ prophecy about the city’s conquest Diomedes brings Philoktetes back from Lemnos.

Also narrated in the Little Iliad, according to Proklos, was the theft of the Palladion, which survives in several variant versions in which Diomedes or Odysseus or both try to get sole possession of it, betraying the other. The Palladion is yet another item that had been foretold to be required for the successful capture of Troy. In these ambush style episodes we find Odysseus and Diomedes frequently working as a team, though sometimes they split up the work or act on their own. As the episode with the Palladion suggests, the advantages of working as a team do not cancel out the desire on the part of each hero to obtain great glory for himself.

243. mvp-comment-79-3 Still another attested collaborative ambush by Odysseus and Diomedes is the killing of Palamedes. In Cypria testimonium 30 [Bernabé], Diomedes and Odysseus drown Palamedes, ambushing him while he is fishing:

Pausanias 10.31.2

Palamedes was drowned when he went out to catch fish. Diomedes was the killer and also Odysseus, as I know from reading it in the epic poem the Cypria.

In all of these episodes Diomedes is linked, as in the Doloneia, with Odysseus. Indeed, Odysseus has long been understood to be the hero of mētis. (See on 10.137 and 10.148 above.) But it should not be forgotten that, like Diomedes, Odysseus has his fair share of traditional fighting. The Odyssey ends with Odysseus about to engage the families of the suitors in battle, and with Laertes rejoicing that he will have a contest for aretē with his son and grandson ( Odyssey 24.515). When Demodokos sings about the fall of Troy in Odyssey 8, Odysseus is the hero raging “like Ares” through the streets of Troy ( Odyssey 8.515). In Iliad 11.310–319, Odysseus and Diomedes together stave off a rout of the Greek forces before both are wounded. Recent scholarship has focused on the oppositions set up between mētis and biē in Homeric poetry (see e.g. Nagy 1979:45–48), but as Donna Wilson (2005) has recently pointed out, the two concepts are also complementary in many respects.

243. mvp-comment-79-4 10.243 This verse is also used at Odyssey 1.65 (and compare how the phrasing of Odyssey 1.66 is similar to that of 10.244). There, it is Zeus speaking in response to Athena, saying that he could not overlook Odysseus. Since Iliad 10, like the Odyssey, features Odysseus in a prominent role, the formula seems to be useful and good for introducing Odysseus in a starring role.

244. mvp-comment-80-1 10.244 πρόφρων κραδίη καὶ θυμὸς ἀγήνωρ At both 10.220 above and 10.319 below, the formula ἔμ’ ὀτρύνει κραδίη καὶ θυμὸς ἀγήνωρ (“my heart and audacious spirit rouse me”) is used when Diomedes and Dolon, respectively, respond to the call for a spying mission. Here, Diomedes says that he is choosing Odysseus as his partner in the mission because his heart and audacious spirit are ready and eager for all kinds of labors; these personal qualities of courage and boldness are what impel men to go on nighttime or spying missions or on ambushes. We can compare the opposite in Achilles’ denunciation of Agamemnon in Iliad 1.225–228, when he says that Agamemnon has the heart ( κραδίη) of a deer and never arms himself for war or goes on an ambush with the best of the Achaeans, enduring it in his spirit ( θυμός). It is clear that there is a deep-rooted association between these qualities and the daring feats of these types of missions. See also on 10.231 and 10.248.

245. mvp-comment-81-1 10.245 φιλεῖ δέ ἑ Παλλὰς Ἀθήνη On the relationship between Odysseus and Athena, see on 10.275.

246. mvp-comment-82-1 10.246 ἐκ πυρὸς αἰθομένοιο Petegorsky points out that this particular image calls to mind “the background of Achilles’ challenge to the Achaeans to avert the danger that threatens the ships by employing μῆτις. His words acquire a strong ‘horizontal resonance’ by pointing back to Achilles’ challenge and forward to the Patrocleia [cf. Iliad 16.81]. And yet, his description of Odysseus also has a strong ‘vertical resonance’; for it evokes an image of Odysseus that corresponds remarkably well to that which we find in the Odyssey” (1982:193). The types of resonance that Petegorsky reveals remind us of how oral poetry can have complex ways of creating meaning that are different from those in written texts.

247. mvp-comment-83-1 10.247 ἄμφω νοστήσαιμεν, ἐπεὶ περίοιδε νοῆσαι Odysseus’ primary heroic identity is concerned with nostos ‘homecoming’, which is the subject of the epic devoted to him. (See Nagy 1979:35 and 38–39.) Douglas Frame has shown that the words nostos and noos ‘mind’ share the verbal root * nes-, whose meaning has to do with “returning to life and light” (a meaning best understood, according to Frame, in the context of solar symbolism), and that the two concepts are combined on a conceptual and verbal level throughout the Odyssey. (Cf. e.g. the opening lines of the Odyssey, 1.3–5: πολλῶν δ’ ἀνθρώπων ἴδεν ἄστεα καὶ νόον ἔγνω … ἀρνύμενος ἥν τε ψυχὴν καὶ νόστον ἑταίρων [“Many are the cities of men and their ways of thinking he came to know, as he strove to win the life and homecoming of his companions.”]) See especially Frame 2005a and 2005b; on the root * nes, see also Frame 2009 and Bonifazi 2009. We can see that the deep connection between nostos and noos is built into the traditional character of Odysseus and comes into focus whenever he is featured, be it in the Iliad or the Odyssey.

247. mvp-comment-83-2 We have already seen some indications (on 10.211–212) that spying missions share some traditional language and thematic associations with journeys. Diomedes’ choice of Odysseus as the master of the kind of journey called a nostos (due to his quality of noos) is another example of this commonality. See also below on 10.509.

248. mvp-comment-84-1 10.248 πολύτλας δῖος Ὀδυσσεύς In this book Odysseus is also referred to as ὁ τλήμων Ὀδυσεὺς (“that enduring Odysseus,” 10.231 and 10.498; cf. Iliad 5.670 and Odyssey 18.319). Although Odysseus is polutlas ‘much enduring’ five times in the Iliad, the epithet is by far more common in the Odyssey, where it is naturally associated with the many travails he endures in that epic (cf. Odyssey 1.4: πολλὰ δ’ ὅ γ’ ἐν πόντῳ πάθεν ἄλγεα [“many are the pains he suffered”]). It is significant therefore that this formula appears directly following the verse in which Odysseus’ Odyssean association with nostos is conjured. But as we saw in our discussion of the etymologically related epithet τλήμων on 10.231, this formula may well have another aspect to it. When Achilles excoriates Agamemnon in Iliad 1 for his lack of participation in the hardships of war, he says:

“You drunkard, with a dog’s eyes and a deer’s heart,

whenever it comes to arming yourself for war with the rest of the warriors

or going on an ambush with the champions of the Achaeans,

you don’t have the heart to endure it. That looks like death to you.”

The verb Achilles uses is τέτληκα. In Idomeneus’ description of ambush warfare in Iliad 13 (discussed above, pp. 45–47), the verb τλάω is not used, but the need for endurance is likewise emphasized. Warriors on an ambush must endure fear, the discomfort of sitting/crouching as they wait for a long period of time to attack, and the cold of the night (as evidenced by the clothing chosen for ambush, clothing which Odysseus forgets to take both in Iliad 10 and in the story narrated in Odyssey 14). When Menelaos tells Telemakhos the story of the wooden horse in Odyssey 4, he praises Odysseus’ endurance ( ἔτλη) on that occasion ( Odyssey 4.271–272): οἷον καὶ τόδ’ ἔρεξε καὶ ἔτλη καρτερὸς ἀνὴρ / ἵππῳ ἔνι ξεστῷ (“What a thing he accomplished and endured, the mighty man, inside the wooden horse”). Odysseus’ steadfast character and ability to endure the lokhos are contrasted in Menelaos’ anecdote with that of the weaker-willed heroes, Diomedes, Menelaos himself, and Antiklos, all of whom Odysseus has to restrain from succumbing to Helen’s trick. In Odyssey 9, Odysseus describes how in the cave of the Cyclops he hid beneath the ram and held on, awaiting dawn “with an enduring heart” ( τετληότι θυμῷ, 9.435; for this same formula in other ambush contexts, see also Odyssey 4.447 and 4.459, Menelaos’ ambush of Proteus, and Odyssey 24.163, the description by the shades of the suitors of how Odysseus ambushed them). This kind of waiting—during the dark of night, in a hiding position—is what a warrior undergoes in an ambush. When Athena tells Odysseus in Odyssey 13 that he will need to conceal his identity in order to take control of his home, family, and kingdom again, she tells him he will have to endure ( σὺ δὲ τετλάμεναι καὶ ἀνάγκῃ, 13.307). He will have to take them by ambush, not outright force. (Cf. Odyssey 13.309–310: ἀλλὰ σιωπῇ / πάσχειν ἄλγεα πολλά, βίας ὑποδέγμενος ἀνδρῶν [“{You must} suffer many pains in silence, submitting to the biē of men.”]) Odysseus’ ability to withstand this particular kind of hardship is an important part of his epithet polutlas, and the endurance that Menelaos remembers as being so remarkable during the ambush of Troy is fundamentally connected to Odysseus’ ability to withstand the many algea he suffers on his journey home. (On the connection between the tla- compounds that describe Odysseus and the endurance required for ambush, see also Edwards 1985:17, and on the second half of the Odyssey as an ambush, see again Edwards 1985:35–37.)

249-250. mvp-comment-85-1 10.249–250 Τυδείδη μήτ᾽ ἄρ με μάλ᾽ αἴνεε μήτε τί νείκει· / εἰδόσι γάρ τοι ταῦτα μετ᾽ Ἀργείοις ἀγορεύεις Gregory Nagy sees this response by Odysseus as a meta-commentary on the epic tradition and the question of who is the best of the Achaeans (see 10.236). Nagy writes: “It is as if he were saying: ‘The Achaeans are aware of the tradition, so please do not exaggerate.’ With the words of Odysseus himself, the epic tradition of the Iliad has pointedly taken Odysseus out of contention” (1979:34). But just as Ajax can be called best for battle so long as Achilles remains withdrawn ( Iliad 2.768; Nagy 1979:27, 31), Odysseus here can contend for “best” at nighttime missions, since Achilles is not available now, either.

251-253. mvp-comment-86-1 10.251–253 μάλα γὰρ νὺξ ἄνεται, ἐγγύθι δ᾽ ἠώς, / ἄστρα δὲ δὴ προβέβηκε, παρῴχηκεν δὲ πλέω νὺξ / τῶν δύο μοιράων, τριτάτη δέ τι μοῖρα λέλειπται The amount of time that the events of Iliad 9 and Iliad 10 take up has been used, by Leaf and others, to argue that Iliad 10 does not belong to the Iliad. Of course, the events related in Iliad 11.1–18.242 all take place on one day, so narrative time seems quite flexible, expanding as the dramatic intensity increases. Thus this crucial night could dramatically include the “three-part” structure implied in these lines: the first part would include the embassy to Achilles, the second part when the Achaeans, other than Agamemnon, slept, and now this episode, comprising the remaining third part. In any case, these lines call attention to the urgency of the time, as well as suggesting the possibility of multiple episodes during the same night.

253. mvp-comment-87-1 10.253 According the scholia in the Venetus A, Zenodotus “did not write” this line. For more on the Alexandrian editorial procedures, see on 10.240 above.

254. mvp-comment-88-1 10.254 ὣς εἰπόνθ᾽ This is the first dual verb used for Diomedes and Odysseus. As soon as Odysseus agrees to be Diomedes’ partner, they are spoken of as a team, working together in every way. For more on the use of the dual verb forms, see on 10.53, 10.228, and 10.243.

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.”

257. mvp-comment-90-1 10.257 ἀμφὶ δέ οἱ κυνέην κεφαλῆφιν ἔθηκε Nowhere else in surviving Homeric epic do we find heroes putting on leather caps, but we must also recognize that no other expanded descriptions of night raids of this nature survive. If more of the Epic Cycle narratives describing Diomedes’ and Odysseus’ nighttime exploits survived (for these, see on 10.243 above), such items of clothing might not seem so exotic. In the Nisus and Euryalus episode in the Aeneid, Euryalus makes the fatal mistake of putting on the helmet that he takes as spoils from a corpse, and the reflection of the moonlight off the helmet gives him away to the enemy ( Aeneid 9.373–374: “alea Euryalum sublustri noctis in umbra / prodidit immemorem radiisque aduersa refulsit”). Whereas heroes strive for conspicuous distinction ( kudos) on the battlefield, ambush warfare is characterized by hiding and concealment. Cf. the Venetus B scholia on 10.258, which note that the kind of leather helmet worn here is ἄφαλον and ἄλλοφον “for being inconspicuous” ( διὰ τὸ λανθάνειν).

259. mvp-comment-91-1 10.259 θαλερῶν αἰζηῶν ‘flourishing, vigorous young men’: Botanic imagery is used here to describe the warriors whose heads are protected by these helmets. The imagery of the hero as a plant that blossoms beautifully and dies quickly is an important theme in Greek lament traditions, as we see in Thetis’ lament for Achilles in Iliad 18.54–60 and in other passages throughout the Iliad. It is also a metaphor that encapsulates what glory means in the Iliad. One of the primary metaphors for epic song in the Iliad is that of a flower that will never wilt:

410 My mother the goddess Thetis of the shining feet tells me

that there are two ways in which I may meet my end.

If I stay here and fight around the city of Troy,

my homecoming is lost, but my glory in song [ kleos] will be unwilting:

whereas if I reach home and my dear fatherland,

415 my kleos is lost, but my life will be long,

and the outcome of death will not soon take me.

Here Achilles reveals not only the crux of this choice of fates around which the Iliad itself is built, but also the driving principle of Greek epic song. The unwilting flower of epic poetry is contrasted with the necessarily mortal hero, whose death comes all too quickly. (See especially Nagy 1979:174–184 and Dué 2006a:64–69. Nagy shows that the root phthi- in the Greek word aphthiton ‘unwilting’ is inherently connected with vegetal imagery, and means ‘wilt’.) The Iliad quotes within its narration of Achilles’ kleos many songs of lamentation that highlight the mortality of the central hero, as well as underscoring the immortality of song. The traditional imagery of these quoted laments spills over into epic diction itself, with the result that similes, metaphors, and other traditional descriptions of heroes are infused with themes drawn from the natural world, as here.

259. mvp-comment-91-2 With Diomedes, Meriones, Neoptolemos, and even Achilles as examples, we might also argue that ambush is associated with younger men in particular, and thus the cap that is good for ambush is worn by young men. In the “Tradition and Reception” essay above we noted Gernet’s (1936) work on the Dolon myth, in which he argues that the episode is suggestive of initiation rituals in which young men must spend a period of time apart from society as well as other rites of initiation that take place at night. (See also Johnston 2002 on cattle raiding as a form of initiation; we have explored above in “The Poetics of Ambush” the thematic overlap between cattle raiding and ambush in Homeric epic.) The word thaleros used in this line to describe the young men may be important here. This word is used several times in Homer of husbands or young men and women on the verge of marriage. See e.g. the Homeric Hymn to Demeter 79, where Persephone is called a θαλερὴν ἄκοιτιν; Iliad 6.430, where thaleros is used of Hektor by Andromache and 8.190, used by Hektor of himself as the husband of Andromache; Iliad 4.474, where it is used of Simoesios, who dies before marriage—i.e. at the age when he should have been getting married; Iliad 3.26, where it is used of young hunters, who are likewise αἰζηοί; Iliad 8.156, where it is used of the Trojan husbands whom Diomedes has killed; Odyssey 6.66, where it is used of Nausikaa’s impending marriage; and Odyssey 20.74, where it is used of the requested marriage of the daughters of Pandareus. In the Theogony, it is used of Gaia’s first “husband” Ouranos, but there he is being described as the parent of Zeus. If we posit that ambush expeditions could serve as a rite of passage or form of initiation, it would explain why fear is said to be such an important factor: the success or failure of the mission would hinge on how the young men handled that fear. (See e.g. Iliad 13.277–278, where ambush is described as “the place where the merit of men most shines through, where the coward and the resolute man are revealed” and Odyssey 11.528–530. Both passages are discussed in “The Poetics of Ambush” above.)

260. mvp-comment-92-1 10.260 βιὸν ἠδὲ φαρέτρην On the bow as a particularly appropriate weapon for night attacks, see the arguments of McLeod 1988. The Townley scholia at this line explain that Odysseus takes the bow so that he can shoot at those who are in the light (as the Trojans would be beside their campfires). McLeod adduces “half a dozen sources, spread over two millennia, testifying to a recurrent connection between the dark of night, the bow, and aiming at light” (McLeod 1988:123). The bow is of course also Odysseus’ signature weapon in the Odyssey, and similar to the lineage of the boar’s tusk helmet below (see 10.267), the bow that Odysseus leaves in Ithaka also has a particular story, being both an heirloom and guest-gift ( Odyssey 21.13–41). Steven Farron succinctly describes the importance of the bow in that epic: “Odysseus boasts of his pre-eminence at military archery ( Odyssey 8.215–222), establishes his right to Penelope with his skill at using the bow and it is his main weapon against the suitors” (Farron 2003:182). It has been argued (by e.g. Lorimer 1950:296–297 and 483) on this basis that Iliad 10 must be composed later than the Odyssey. On the problems with this argument, see “Interpreting Iliad 10.”

263-264. mvp-comment-93-1 10.263–264 ἔκτοσθε δὲ λευκοὶ ὀδόντες / ἀργιόδοντος ὑὸς θαμέες ἔχον ἔνθα καὶ ἔνθα As Hainsworth notes (1993 ad 10.261–265), “There is no doubt that a piece of bronze-age equipment is being referred to.” But how does this much-discussed example of Bronze Age material culture contribute to our understanding of the composition and poetics of the Iliad? Sherratt (1990:818) observes that the boar’s tusk helmet “though still occasionally found in graves as late as the 12th and 11th centuries, disappears from representational art of a military nature after 1200 BC.” (See also Lorimer 1950:212–219 and Stubbings 1962:516.) Is the boar’s tusk helmet evidence that Homeric poetry was being composed in the Bronze Age? Many scholars have rejected such a proposition, and instead have viewed this helmet as an instance of an eighth-century poet deliberately “archaizing” (on this concept, see e.g. Dickinson 1986, Kirk 1960:190ff., and Morris 1986:89ff.). Hainsworth questions whether the verses could survive from the Bronze Age, “their language being in no respect exceptionally archaic”; rather, he asserts that “[t]he poet of this book wanted to introduce an interesting and exotic object.” Those who see Iliad 10 as a particularly late composition are not inclined to accept that such an old object forms a natural part of this book, and instead prefer to see its inclusion as the work of an archaizing individual. But Sherratt (1990) has shown that, just as there are linguistic layers in the traditional language of Homeric poetry, so too are there archaeological layers that are not well explained by those who seek to isolate and dismiss individual Bronze Age relics as heirlooms or as products of deliberate archaizing. And just as the poetic diction evolved in such a way that we cannot easily separate out Aeolic language from Ionic (see above on 10.18), so too elements of disparate material cultures are integrated into the Iliad in such way that they can only be explained as the result of an evolving but also conservative process of oral composition, hundreds of years in the making. The arming scene of Odysseus and Diomedes in Iliad 10 is no different than countless other passages in the Iliad that include weapons from very different eras (see e.g. Sherratt 1990:810–811 on Iliad 19.369–391). Here, the boar’s tusk helmet seems to serve a poetic function beyond that of simply being an exotic object, for which see on 10.267.

267. mvp-comment-94-1 10.267 Ἀυτόλυκος was Odysseus’ maternal grandfather. According to some traditions (Apollodorus 1.112, Pausanias 8.4.6, Ovid Metamorphoses 13.146), Autolykos is the son of Hermes (thus making Odysseus Hermes’ great-grandson). In Odyssey 19.395–396, Autolykos is said be a favorite of Hermes and “preeminent among men in thieving and perjury” ( ἀνθρώπους ἐκέκαστο / κλεπτοσύνῃ θ’ ὅρκῳ τε), a gift given by Hermes himself. Odysseus is in turn a favorite of Autolykos (see Odyssey 19.393ff.). The relationship with Autolykos is one of many links that Odysseus has to the god Hermes, with whom he shares the epithet πολύτροπος (“of many turns,” Odyssey 1.1; Homeric Hymn to Hermes 13). Hermes is the god described in the Homeric Hymn to Hermes 13–18 as “crafty of counsel, a robber, a driver of cattle, a leader of dreams, a spy at night, a thief at the gates … Born at dawn, at mid-day he played the lyre, in the evening he stole the cattle of far-shooting Apollo.” Athena’s intelligence is central to the attested ambush episodes in Homeric epic (see on 10.275), but Hermes’ thieving and crafty ways play a vital role as well. (See also on 10.41 above for the use of the formula νύκτα δι᾽ ὀρφναίην in the Homeric Hymn to Hermes 578.) Here Autolykos is said to have stolen the boar’s tusk helmet that Odysseus wears from a house that is pukinos. The house, in other words, is carefully and solidly built. Its many beams and planks are closely joined one upon the other, much as the boar’s tusks are made to fit seamlessly around the helmet. The word pukinos unites the mētis associated with Odysseus, his maternal grandfather, and Hermes with the cunning required to break into a well-built house and the craft required to construct such a helmet. The invocation of the history of Autolykos’ cunning thievery here thus places Odysseus’ own cunning in a continuum that stretches back through several generations, much as Diomedes’ role in the night raid of Iliad is placed in the context of his father Tydeus’ ambush history in 10.285–286. See 10.5–9 for more on the meanings of pukinos, epsecially as it relates to ambush.

267. mvp-comment-94-2 For a similar “lineage” of an object of prestige, see the history of Agamemnon’s scepter at Iliad 2.101–108. The fact that the object was originally stolen does not seem to disqualify it from becoming a valued guest-gift.

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).