At long last the warriors arrived at Troy, a city at the western end of modern-day Turkey. Here were the beautiful green grasses, before they were to be set afire; here was the warm soil, before it was to be stained with blood; here was the vast blue sky, before it was to be choked with screams. Now was the time for history to be made, and glory to be won.
Andy was already very concerned.
In the second book of the Iliad, Homer winds on and on about the Achaean ships, their captains and their origins, in droll detail. And yet there was only one ship, the ship they rode on, and only Agamemnon and Menelaus rode it.
Following events made him more concerned.
When they arrived at the gates of Troy, they found watchmen careless at their posts on the city’s tall walls. Menelaus’s idea of negotiation consisted of screaming at the battlements. Eh? the watchmen cried, cupping their ears, for they were very high up, and the wind was strong that day. They grumbled, loafed around, and in an hour walked down to hear his dispute. They told him to stay put, grumbled more, loafed around more, and after a few hours finally arrived with Helen and Paris.
Helen, who was above-average beautiful, asserted she loved Paris; though she was engaged, their love was consecrated by the gods; Menelaus complained he paid a sizeable dowry for her hand. Yes, but she was in love with Paris. On and on. It was a very circular debate; night came, it grew cold, Paris looked uncomfortable, the Greeks returned to their boats, and Menelaus cried a storm that night.
Andy became very concerned when he took heavily to wine, for he felt this was a sign he would give up on the enterprise the morning after. Moreover, he found they did not live up to their names; Menelaus had no determination to stay; Agamemnon was not steadfast; Troy was not particularly wealthy nor well-defended; and Helen was no match for Marilyn Monroe. The Achaeans, too, were not stalwart and disciplined; they simply wanted a break from their farms, which break, they decided, was near ending.
During the night, when Menelaus was groping for another skin of wine, he saw before him a pillar of fire; there Andy was, appareled by Gary and Homer, dressed in armor and a Corinthian helm, brandishing a spear, holding a shield with snakes on its edge; I am Athena, Andy proclaimed, patron of Athens, and though you are not Athenians, I will aid you. In what? Where is the wine? the wino howled. In getting your fiancé back, Andy scowled. Do not worry, I will take care of all. With that, Andia, the goddess of war, disappeared in a pillar of smoke.
When the wino awoke, he shuddered, put his hand as a visor over his eyes against the brightness of the sun, and called for the Achaeans to leave. Yet, when he stumbled toward the boat, he found it was gone, vanished from the shore. Fortunately his remaining wine skins were tossed in the grass.
Andy fetched Nestor, who rambled, Telamonian Ajax, who over-boasted, Diomedes, whom horses disliked, Locrian Ajax, who was creepy, Odysseus, who always seemed pained, and, most famous of them all, Achilles, who was deathless because he was stupid, as well as his reluctant friend Patroclus who did not think this was a good idea. They were regaled with stories of Troy’s wealth and women; they looked to their spades, shrugged, and followed Andy.
And yet these warriors were raw, unrefined, and bored. Andy and Gary had to teach them discipline, when to advance and when to retreat, how to use swords, how to wear armor, how to build fortifications and develop machinery, and how to strategize and think on one’s feet on the battlefield. The Achaeans marveled, for their knowledge of battle consisted in drinking wine and swinging wildly and without abandon one’s fists; surely nothing good could come from things as fanciful, fantastical and overwrought as weaponry and tactics, yet nevertheless they listened to Andy attentively.
When the Achaeans arrived on the shores of Ilium, they were laughed off by the sentries again. They asked where the wino was. Andy then cried, Fire!, and the catapults, hidden well in the thicket, raised their buckets and launched their salvos, crushing the sentries underneath boulders. By day’s end, the Achaeans would be inside the walls.
Andy was dismayed. The war needed to last ten more years.
© 2025 Jay Lee