WEBVTT
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Episode 4 - First Blood
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[Opening music]
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From the city walls of Troy, the people,
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ranged along the walls on turrets and towers,
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saw a darkening on the horizon.
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They rubbed their eyes.
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They looked again and now they could see a thousand flecks of mast,
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each one with its little coloured rag of sail.
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They rubbed their eyes.
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They looked again and now they could see ships,
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a thousand ships slicing through the waves,
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each ship crammed with warriors.
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And the Trojans wasted no time then.
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There was a harnessing of horses to chariots.
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There was a sharpening of swords.
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There was a buckling of breastplates and belts and greaves.
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There was a seizing of helmets and shields.
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The great bronze Scaean gates were thrown open and,
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with a whirring of wheels and a creaking of chariots and a neighing of horses,
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a shouting of men,
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a thundering of hooves and feet,
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the Trojan army poured across the plain.
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And with a crash of bronze against bronze,
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the Trojans met the Greeks wading ashore,
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as two rivers in full spate,
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each one with a flotsam of uprooted trees,
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might crash into one another.
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So it was the Trojans met the Greeks.
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And, if I could sing now,
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I would sing of the Trojans’ secret weapon –
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a warrior, whose name was Cygnus,
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standing head and shoulders above all other men.
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Cygnus, a son of Poseidon, the god of the sea –
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white-skinned, white-tongued, white-lipped, white-haired Cygnus –
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as white as sea foam,
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as white as the seventh wave of the sea.
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I would sing of Cygnus,
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whose skin was charmed against the striking of sword, dagger, spear, arrow or battleaxe.
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Cutting down Greeks with every stroke of his sword,
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with every thrust of his spear,
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while the Greek swords buckled against his skin,
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and the Greeks’ spears glanced from him as if glancing from stone.
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I would sing of tremendous Cygnus,
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leaving a wake of dead behind himself as he fought.
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One ship had yet to yield her cargo.
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From his ship Achilles watched,
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his heart in turmoil.
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From his ship Achilles watched the savage Cygnus cutting a path through the Greek ranks,
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like a plough through moist earth.
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Aboard his ship, tethered to the mast,
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the four wonderful white horses that had been the gifts of Poseidon.
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Now one of them, Beauty,
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lifted his long head and said,
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“Son of Peleus, you know the fate that hovers over you.
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You know if you set foot on these shores,
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yours will be a short life.
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Not for you the stretching shadow,
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not for you the ripening grape,
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not for you the joy of children.
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You are matchless in the field of battle.
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No man could ever harm you.
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But a god could.”
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As Achilles listened,
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his face began to tingle,
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and then he said,
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“My dear horse,
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you speak so rarely and yet you waste your words.
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I choose death!
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I choose death so that my name will live for ever on the tongues of men and women!”
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And, with a cry, he drew his sword,
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he stabbed the air and he leapt from his ship.
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The Trojans saw him like a dancer,
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leaping through the air,
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and they saw him land,
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striking the sand with his foot.
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And, where he landed, a spring burst out of the ground.
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And then, as though running through long grass,
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he ran across the battlefield until he was standing in front of Cygnus.
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“Know it was Achilles who killed you!”
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And, with all the strength of his arm,
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he hurled his spear at Cygnus.
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But the spear struck Cygnus and it clattered down to the ground at his feet,
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as though it was a reed that had been thrown by a little boy.
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And Cygnus lifted his arms and he laughed.
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And he said, “Throw another one, my little friend.
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I know who you are.
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You are Thetis’ son.
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But I’m no more afraid of you than of a mosquito that I might smear across my arm.
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From head to foot I’m charmed against the striking of all weapons.”
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And Achilles drew his bronze sword then
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and, leaping and dancing and slashing to the left and the right,
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he attacked Cygnus with terrible ferocity,
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until Cygnus’ armour was hanging from his body like a shattered eggshell.
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But still Cygnus was unscratched.
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And, laughing, he lifted his own spear and he hurled it at Achilles.
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And he struck Achilles’ shield with such force that the point of the spear penetrated the gold and nine layers of hardened ox hide.
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And Achilles staggered backwards with the strength of the stroke.
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But then he caught his balance
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and, with an expression of terrible, inhuman ferocity,
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his lips curled back from his teeth,
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he leapt at Cygnus.
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He smashed his shield into Cygnus’ face.
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He ground the boss of the shield to the left and the right until Cygnus’ nose was smeared across his cheek and his teeth were shattered.
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And, as Cygnus staggered backwards,
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Achilles knelt on his shoulders.
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“If weapons won’t harm you,
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what will armour do?”
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He tore the helmet from Cygnus’ head.
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He wrapped the helmet straps around his neck,
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twisting and tugging and tightening the tourniquet until Cygnus’ head was half-torn from his body and every last shudder of life was gone from him.
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And Achilles leapt to his feet,
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splattered with blood, shrieking with laughter.
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And the Trojan army stood and they stared, appalled, mesmerised.
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And then a strange thing.
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The twisted, broken neck of Cygnus began to stretch and to curve.
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And his face narrowed and his lips stretched and hardened and out of his skin white feathers.
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His father Poseidon had taken pity on him and had transformed him into a swan.
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And now he was lifting his feathered arms and the shattered eggshell armour was falling away from him.
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He was beating his wings against the air.
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He lifted himself high and high and high into the sky.
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And three times he circled round.
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And the only sound was the sighing and the sawing of his wings.
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And then he flew over the sea,
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over the masts of the ships and he was gone.
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And Achilles ran towards the Trojans,
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with his Myrmidons behind him.
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Achilles ran towards the Trojans,
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screaming and screaming.
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And the Trojans’ hearts turned to water and they fled.
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They ran and they ran through the great bronze Scaean gates.
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The gates were closed behind them.
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And, from that day onwards,
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to any Trojan warrior the name Achilles was like a cold shudder from the nape of the neck to the root of the spine.
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And, as for the Greeks,
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they loosed a few lazy arrows after the retreating Trojans and then they set about dragging their ships high onto the white sand.
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[Closing music]