Episode 5:
Centering Crude Thersites,
Kin to Diomedes
Thersites senses the others
restraining strangle-minded fingers
that wish to wring Thersites’s neck:
This is what Thersites senses.
The others believe in an oblivious Thersites,
blind to their scorn and contempt,
but Thersites knows better.
Thersites knows
that scorn is spice,
that contempt is a flavoring
for all that Thersites says and does:
This is what Thersites knows.
“Any embassy that includes Odysseus
should be balanced by a blunt truth-teller,”
Diomedes had suggested.
And Agamemnon had agreed!
And so, here is Thersites,
taking his flavorings and spices
as part of a vital mission
to the awful tomb
by the awful cliffside:
This is where Thersites is.
“Why should the great Achilles mope about
like a woman in lamentations?”
Thersites asks the man himself,
this overblown hero,
this weepy legend,
this string-strumming death-dealer
who handles death’s stings
no better than a gobsmacked child.
“Why should the great Achilles shed tears
over corpse-crumbs in a golden urn?
You won’t see bold Thersites crying for the past.
Not ever.
The past is dead!
The past stinks like rotted fish!
‘Leave the past behind.’
This is what Thersites says.
Accomplish new deeds of renown!
Seek new enemies to defeat!
You, my friend,
are a truly great warrior,
but
your deeds and victories,
though numerous,
are in the past,
and the past,
as Thersites has said,
is a rotted fish.
No,
dear Achilles,
starting now,
dear Achilles,
looking forward,
dear Achilles,
make for yourself a plan
as bold
as your boldest companion!”
Achilles considers Thersites.
A long moment passes.
“So that I don’t misunderstand,
Thersites,
what you think
is that I,
Achilles,
should be more like you?”
Oh, how Thersites sighs
at the subtle flavoring of those words!
Like a beggar
at a wedding feast
weeping at the beauty
of treats and delicacies
laid out on tables
for all who know the bride or groom
or are willing to so claim:
This is how Thersites sighs.
“Consider how quickly this war would end
if Achilles were more like Thersites
and if Thersites were more like Achilles,
and oh,
if I were more like you,
with the armor,
with the arms,
with the bloodline of gods and heroes,
and oh,
with that girl,
Briseïs,
who sits her nightly vigil
in your tent,
the end of the war
could not come soon enough.”
Achilles snaps to attention.
The terrible fire in his eyes!
The famous rage
that carved a track around Ilion!
Perhaps Thersites has gone too far:
This is what Thersites thinks.
As Thersites looks around
for the protection of Diomedes,
Thersites remembers then
that Diomedes has not joined them.
Why not?
Maybe his kinsman is looking to be rid of Thersites:
This is what Thersites wonders.
“No man touches her!”
Achilles roars,
as Thersites fades into the background
and hides behind the others.
This is where Thersites goes
when his meal becomes
too spicy to choke down.
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