Pandora's Jar: Women in the Greek Myths(39)

And nor do they need to, because Penthesilea is doing just fine without reinforcements. She continues to cut her way through the Greeks: their cries and screams eventually rouse Ajax and Achilles to join the battle. As the two great warriors put on their armour, they too are compared to lions, but this time like lions slaughtering a herd of sheep in the absence of a shepherd. Achilles kills five Amazons in rapid succession. But Penthesilea is not scared by this terrifying vision. Rather, she hurls her spears at Ajax, but they shatter on his divinely wrought shield and greaves. The Fates have not allowed Ajax to be injured during the war so far, and nor do they today. He pursues the Trojan fighters and leaves Achilles to fight Penthesilea alone.

Achilles rebukes Penthesilea for her confidence, tells her she must be mad, reminds her that everyone falls before him, even Hector. Did she not hear of the time he choked the rivers with corpses? This is a reference, again, to the Iliad, where Achilles’ killing spree is so terrible and so rapid that the suffocating river gods beg their Olympian counterparts to stop him. It is a shattering image. Achilles hurls his spear at Penthesilea and she is less lucky than Ajax: her blood begins to flow. Even then, she wonders out loud if she could draw her sword and rush at him or if she should go on her knees and beg for her life (again, something male heroes do routinely in the Iliad and elsewhere). She has lost her death wish, it seems, now death is imminent.

Achilles drives his remaining spear first into her horse and then into her. She is cut down, Quintus says, like a tall pine tree brought down by the wind. She collapses, her strength broken.40 When the Trojans see she has fallen, they panic. She was both a warrior and a talisman, as Hector was before her. Achilles taunts her as she lies dying, for having ever thought she could embrace a war which makes even men cower. But as she dies something happens. Aphrodite makes her resemble the sleeping Artemis.41 She is beautiful even in death and Achilles is suddenly filled with remorse for what he has done. Meanwhile, Ares hears his daughter dying and races to the battlefield to wreak havoc on the Myrmidons (Achilles’ comrades). But Zeus issues a warning thunderbolt and Ares retreats.

And then Quintus says something quite extraordinary: Achilles, still gazing at Penthesilea, feels as much love and sorrow as when his comrade Patroclus died. The death of Patroclus is one of the turning points in the Trojan War. The rage his death provokes in Achilles is what compels the great hero to embark on his terrifying killing spree. But before that comes the moment when a comrade brings him the news of Patroclus’ death. He collapses to the ground, and his comrade fears he will slit his own throat. Whether Achilles and Patroclus were lovers or merely close companions, Achilles’ devotion to his friend is undeniable. The celebrations of Patroclus’ life – the funeral pyre, the golden urn for his ashes, the days of games held in his honour – are all provided by Achilles, but only once he has obliterated Hector, the man who had killed him.

And these feelings of love, companionship and intense sorrow are what Achilles feels now, looking down at the body of Penthesilea, a woman he was taunting only moments ago. Thersites, who is critical of the war effort and its commanders, is standing nearby. He mocks Achilles for the feelings he has for this Amazon, and accuses him of being gunaimanes – ‘woman-crazy’.42 Achilles says nothing in reply, but reaches out and punches Thersites so hard that the man falls to the ground, dead.

Thersites’ response is both terminal and unusual. A kind of love continues to be expressed by the Greeks to Penthesilea, because they give her body to the Trojans for a funeral. This is another remarkable moment: the bodies of the dead – Greek or Trojan – have rarely been treated with this kind of respect during the war. Menelaus had to stand guard over Patroclus’ body even after Hector had stripped Achilles’ armour from him, so that they could take him back to the Greek camp for funeral rites. And yet Menelaus and Agamemnon give Penthesilea up without question. The fallen Amazon is carried from the battlefield by her enemies.

Scenes of Achilles and Penthesilea were a common theme on ancient vases. Surely the most beautiful, dating back to the sixth century BCE and painted by the master of the black figure technique, Exekias, can be found in the British Museum.43 The black figure of Achilles – his enormous thighs showing us just how strong he is – stands to the left. His plumed helmet covers his face, only one eye is visible. He is driving his spear down, into the neck of Penthesilea. She is on one knee in front of him. Her shield hangs useless from her left shoulder. Her skin is white (men are often painted black and women white on these types of pots). Her helmet covers only the back and top of her head: her face is visible. Her eye is just a plain black dot, her mouth a small, straight line. But the decorated plume of her helmet matches his, and the bright red interiors of their shields match too. A snake decorates the helmet: it inevitably reminds us of Medusa. And Penthesilea wears a pardalis – a leopard skin – hanging down over her tunic, held in place by her red belt. Its paws reach down to her thighs. Blood gushes from her neck. Both Penthesilea’s and Achilles’ names are inscribed on the vase, next to each figure.

The museum also has a hydria – a water jug – which shows the aftermath of this battle.44 A bearded Achilles is walking from left to right, leaning forward slightly, carrying two spears in his right hand. He has not been inconvenienced enough to lose even one of them. Over his left shoulder, he carries the body of Penthesilea. Again, she is painted white. Her eyes are closed, her limbs hang limp. While we can see many images of Greek warriors carrying their fallen comrades from the battlefield, this hydria is unique in showing a Greek carrying his enemy.45 Penthesilea is an extraordinary hero, even in death.