7§1. As we contemplate the ritual aspects of the Iliadic hero, we are faced with a conflict between a trend and a constant: while Achilles is becoming Panhellenic by way of Epos, the powers of the hero in hero cult remain strictly local. [1] By evolving into the hero of the epic tradition that culminated in our Iliad, the Achilles figure stands to lose his overtly ritual aspects. For illustration, let us consider the inherited poetic diction describing the prestige of a typically local hero in cult, and compare the words that our Iliad chooses to describe the destiny of its own prime hero. By losing his chance to be exempt from mortality and by being awarded as compensation a hero cult at Eleusis that will last for all time to come, the youthful Demophon is described in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter as getting a tīmḗ that is áphthitos ‘unfailing’ (Hymn to Demeter 261, 263). [2] The epithet here is crucial, because heroes are generically distinguished from gods by virtue of not having a bíos ‘lifespan’ that is áphthitos (Simonides 523.3P). [3] Achilles, on the other hand, names as compensation for his impending death not tīmḗ but a kléos that is áphthiton ‘unfailing’ (Iliad IX 413). Whereas tīmḗ ‘honor’ is conferred by cult, [4] the prestige that kléos brings is the undying glory of Epos. [5] Within the timelessness of epic, the Funeral of Patroklos will have to serve as indirect compensation to Achilles for the absence of the ritual tīmḗ that is his due. Outside of epic, however, there evolved another form of indirect compensation that befits the Panhellenic hero in the dimension of cult.

7§2. The historical setting is unique: it is Delphi, the Panhellenic Sanctuary for the Oracle of Apollo, where the presiding Hero is none other than the son of Achilles, Pyrrhos/Neoptolemos. [6] In Pindar’s words, the Hero of Delphi is destined to be one of the Aeacids (Aiakos → Peleus → Achilles → Pyrrhos →… ), and the Aeacid to be chosen is the son of Achilles:

By Pindar’s time, the institutions of Delphi reflect no longer simply a pólis that happens to have a sanctuary of Panhellenic importance, but rather, the reverse: the entire community of Delphi now functions as a sacral extension of the Sanctuary. [8] Accordingly, the status of Pyrrhos at Delphi transcends that of the typical hero: whereas the hero of a pólis is by nature local, the son of Achilles is more of a Panhellenic figure by virtue of being Hero of Delphi.

7§3. There would be no gain in our trying to retroject the figure of Pyrrhos as the Hero of Delphi all the way to, say, the eighth century B.C. [9] It is enough to say that the inherited epic themes associated with this figure are so close to the inherited ritual themes of the Hero at Delphi that an identification was in effect by the time the Sanctuary evolved into the form known to Pindar. In the poet’s own words (Nemean 7.44–47), other Aeacids would have been equally appropriate as Hero of Delphi—Achilles included. But the bones of Achilles—and bones are the basis for establishing the locale of hero cults—anchor him in the Iliad as the Hero of the Hellespont. [10] The Panhellenic stature of the Iliad has thus precluded Achilles as Hero of Delphi, and the Delphic sanctuary of Apollo has in turn developed a Panhellenic ideology that complements the Iliad. In short, the identification of Pyrrhos with the Hero enshrined at Delphi is another in a series of interrelated Panhellenic phenomena that go far beyond the local constraints of Hellenic religion. [11]

7§4. The reality of the cult, however, is based on localization: Pyrrhos was Hero of Delphi because of the local belief that he was buried there (Pindar Nemean 7.34–35). In fact, his grave and the cult that goes with it were officially recognized to be part of the precinct of Apollo himself, as we learn not only from the words of Pindar (above, Nemean 7.44–47) [12] and the detailed reports of Pausanias (10.24.6; cf. 1.4.4) but also from the archaeological evidence. [13] This institutional symbiosis of the Hero’s cult with that of Panhellenic Apollo must be correlated with the numerous myths which, although they vary in detail, converge on the theme that Apollo killed Pyrrhos, just as he had killed the father Achilles. [14] A sampling of the documentation can wait until we finish confronting a vital detail: the death of the father and the death of the son are both celebrated as parallel events in Pindar’s Paean 6 to Apollo (lines 78–80: Achilles; lines 117–120: Pyrrhos). Even the traditional exultation iḕ iḗ of the paean bursts forth immediately following the words retelling the death of Pyrrhos (Paean 6.121–122). Since Paean 6 was composed specifically for a Delphic setting and in honor of Apollo, we should be especially mindful of the central role of its hero as the ritual antagonist of the god. For we see here a striking illustration of a fundamental principle in Hellenic religion: antagonism between hero and god in myth corresponds to the ritual requirements of symbiosis between hero and god in cult. [15]

7§5. Now we are ready to examine some of the variant myths about how Pyrrhos actually met his death, and we begin with those that have a bearing on the Achilles figure as well. One version has Pyrrhos attempting to plunder the riches of Delphi; Apollo thwarts him and brings about his death. [16] There is an important parallel in the figure of the impious Phlegúās and/or the band of plundering warriors called Phlegúai, [17] who similarly attacked or even burned down the Delphic shrine and were, in some versions of the myth, destroyed by Apollo. [18] Even the name Phlegúās ‘fiery’ (from phlégō ‘burn’) is semantically comparable to Púrrhos ‘fiery red’. [19]

7§6. The theme of plundering Delphi, common to Pyrrhos and Phlegyas, also applies to Achilles himself in the Iliad—albeit indirectly. In the only Iliadic mention of Delphi (aside from the reference in the Great Catalogue, Iliad II 519), [20] Achilles is renouncing the prospect of plundering the riches of Apollo’s sanctuary there, which have just been juxtaposed with the riches contained in the citadel of Troy (at Iliad IX 401–403):

It is remarkable that a theme so appropriate to the Hero of Delphi on the level of cult should apply in particular to the Achilles figure in the single instance where the Iliad conjures up directly the traditions of Delphi.

7§7. This Homeric focusing of theme is all the more remarkable when we consider the additional evidence of the Odyssey, which likewise has only two overt references to Delphi. One of them is out of focus for our immediate purposes (Odyssey xi 581), but the other brings us back to the first song of Demodokos (Odyssey viii 72–82), which in turn will lead us back to the death of Pyrrhos. Demodokos is singing about the Oracle of Apollo at Delphi, and how it has revealed to Agamemnon a prophecy that applies in a particular setting, to wit, at a daís ‘feast’ of the gods (θεῶν ἐν δαιτὶ θαλείῃ: Odyssey viii 76), where Achilles and Odysseus are having a quarrel. This quarrel is described as the “beginning of grief [pêma]” (πήματος ἀρχή: Odyssey viii 82) for Achaeans and Trojans alike, and we have seen that the death of Achilles is a major theme implied by the notion of pêma as it applies to the Achaeans. [21] Such a thematic correlation of the death of Achilles with Delphi/sacrifice/quarrel presents us with a mythological ensemble that is parallel, however indirectly, to another variant myth about the death of Pyrrhos.

7§8. The myth that we are about to consider is the same one that is celebrated by Pindar in his Paean 6 to Apollo, composed for the occasion of the theoxénia at Delphi. [22] From the words of this composition, we see that Pyrrhos met his death at Delphi as the direct result of a quarrel over slices of meat that were being distributed at a sacrifice:

In another variation on this myth, the killer is not Apollo himself but one of his temple attendants: [25]

The thematic ingredients of (1) the attendant with the mákhaira ‘sacrificial knife’ and (2) the Delphians as xenāgétai ‘conductors of xénoi’ have interesting variants in still other versions of the myth, where the killer is named as (1) Makhaireús, son of Daítās, [26] or (2) Philoxenídēs. [27]

7§9. Taken on the level of myth, these themes are all pertinent to the ritual of the Delphic theoxénia, which actually involved the awarding of slices of meat from the sacrificial table. [28] Consider the following testimonium, which seems to have survived for us only because of a quaint detail in the ritual proceedings:

We should note in particular the sacrificial motif of exchanging a vegetal offering for a slice of the sacrificial victim’s meat—called a moîra. In Pindar’s Nemean 7, we have seen Pyrrhos himself being featured as one who acts in the ritual manner of the Delphic theoxénia, in that he is making a grand offering from the rich spoils of Troy in return for a slice of meat from the sacrificial table (above, line 42). In fact, even his offerings are called akrothínia ‘first fruits [of war]’ (line 41)—a word with vegetal connotations in that it is primarily appropriate for designating ‘first fruits [of Earth]’ (e.g., Aeschylus Eumenides 834; etc.). [29] Pyrrhos gets involved in a quarrel over not receiving his due moîra of meat, and Paean 6 describes the issue in dispute as kūriân [or moiriân!] perì tīmân ‘concerning his rightful tīmaí‘ (line 118). [30] Moreover, the theme of being deprived of one’s moîra of meat at the sacrificial table is actually attested in the ritual lore of Delphi.

7§10. In a fragment from the Life of Aesop tradition, we see the following ritual scenario about a particular sacrificial custom at Delphi: [31]

The internal motivation for this interesting description has to do with a story about Aesop and how he ridiculed this ritual at Delphi. [32] Elsewhere too, we find what seem to be mostly jesting allusions to the same ritual practice, as in the following proverb: [33]

7§11. Such allusions, if we did not have an actual description of the ritual, would have impressed us as nothing more than anticlerical jokes at the expense of the Sanctuary and its proverbially greedy attendants. But the description in the Life of Aesop fragment presents the scenario of a free-for-all over slices of meat as a genuine ritual practice—and not simply as a matter of greedy behavior on the part of the attendants. [34] As we will have a chance to observe later, the jest may present the ritual practice as if it really were greedy behavior, but even the jesting itself may have had a formalized ritual basis. [35] The point remains that there is indeed a ritual basis to the customary free-for-all over the slices of sacrificial meat, as we can also see from such parallels as the festival of ritualized greed at Lykosoura in Arcadia (Pausanias 8.37.8). [36] There is apparently even an element of ritualized stealth in the Delphic proceedings: consider the expression κ[ρύ]φα ‘stealthily’, applied again to the attendants in another fragment describing how Aesop ridiculed the Delphians’ ritual custom. [37]

7§12. Even more important for now, the program of the ritual as described in the Life of Aesop tradition converges closely with the program of the myth about the death of Pyrrhos as described in Pindar’s Paean 6 and Nemean 7. Both myth and ritual feature the themes of (1) a wrangle over slices of meat that takes place between the sacrificer and the attendants who perform the sacrifice and (2) the sacrificer’s being deprived of his share. In fact, the convergence of themes is so close that we may see in the death of Pyrrhos the official Delphic myth that integrates the ideology of the ritual. However, the myth has the sacrificer himself, Pyrrhos, becoming the ultimate victim of the sacrifice—butchered at the table of the god by the very knives that sliced the meat to be shared in the ritual. [38]

7§13. We come back to the first song of Demodokos in the Odyssey (viii 72–82), where the implicit theme of a future death for Achilles is correlated with the three other themes of Delphi/sacrifice/quarrel. We have now witnessed a myth about the death of Pyrrhos that—on an altogether different level—has a parallel correlation of these three other themes. The parallelism can be observed in the dimension of form as well: the verb describing the quarrel of Pyrrhos in the Pindaric narrative, [dēri]azómenon (Paean 6.119), corresponds to the one that twice describes the quarrel of Achilles in the Homeric, dērī́santo/dērióōnt (Odyssey viii 76/78). Some aspects of the parallelism, however, are still problematical. Whereas Pyrrhos is killed during a quarrel at a sacrifice in Delphi, the death of Achilles is merely presaged in Delphi—and indirectly at that: Agamemnon apparently thinks that the quarrel of Achilles at a sacrifice is only a sign that Troy will be taken, not realizing that it is also a sign of future pêma for the Achaeans when Achilles withdraws and again later when he dies. The relationship of Achilles to the themes of Delphi/sacrifice/quarrel obviously requires still further scrutiny. Let us begin by going beyond the daís ‘feast’ of the gods at viii 76, in an attempt to understand the overall testimony of hexameter diction about the hero’s relationship to sacrifices in particular and to feasts in general.

7§14. Not just for Achilles but for any Homeric character, the eating of meat at feasts is by nature a sacrificial occasion: in the words of George M. Calhoun, “every meal was a sacrifice and an act of worship, and every sacrifice a meal.” [39] By treating the Homeric hero simply as an idealized man taken out of the second millennium B.C., this statement may be overly one-dimensional in its view of epic action, [40] but it remains a valid observation about the contents of Homeric narrative: feasts where meat is consumed are indeed regularly occasioned by sacrifice. The Homeric word for such occasions is daís/daítē (e.g., Odyssey iii 33/44, etc.), [41] and both nouns are etymologically derived from the verb daíomai ‘divide, apportion, allot’. Consider the following Homeric collocation of verb and noun:

We will have more to observe about moîrai later. For now it will suffice to add that the notion of ‘division’ latent in daís becomes overt in expressions involving δαιτὸς ἐίσης ‘of an equal daís‘ (as at Iliad I 468, 602; II 431; VII 320; XXIII 56)—denoting situations where everyone has his proper share at the sacrificial feast. [42]

7§15. Is there, then, a special relationship of Achilles to the daís? Certainly this seems to be so not only in the case of Achilles but also in the case of all his heroic lineage, according to the Hesiodic passage that describes the Aeacids as follows:

The key, I submit, to such a close relationship of the Aeacids to the daís is the etymological connection of the word with the notion inherent in daíomai ‘divide, apportion, allot’. This notion constitutes a mythological theme that runs through the whole line of Aeacids, starting with the prime ancestor himself. The hero Aiakos, in the words of Pindar, was so fair and just as to be worthy of settling matters pertaining to the gods themselves:

The correlation here of the word díkē with the concept of making fair allotments reminds us of the wording used to describe how the honor of Achilles himself is to be tested one more time in the Iliad. As the actual setting for Agamemnon’s final offer of compensation to Achilles in return for having at the outset deprived him of his fair share, Odysseus proposes the holding of a special daís:

It is at this dais, when Achilles is to be tested one more time with the compensation offered by Agamemnon (Iliad XIX 268–281), that he even bids his fellow Achaeans to go and feast (Iliad XIX 275)—though without his participation. [44]

7§16. As we now follow the line of Aiakos down to his son Peleus, the association of the Aeacids with the themes of the daís becomes more involved. In the words of Pindar, the hero Peleus actually feasted with the gods:

The singular occasion for the daís of Peleus, where the Olympian gods themselves attended, was the feast of his wedding with Thetis—a traditional theme celebrated by the Cypria as an appropriate setting for the onset of the entire Trojan Cycle (Proclus 102.14–15 Allen). There is an evocative reference to the theme of this daís even in the Iliad, where Hera reminds Apollo that he too had attended:

At this daís celebrating a marriage that led to the conception of Achilles himself, Zeus willed that Éris ‘Strife’ would bring about a neîkos ‘quarrel’ among the gods; these specific themes of éris/neîkos at a daís constitute the opening scene of the Cypria in particular and of the Trojan Cycle in general (Proclus 102.13–19: Éris/neîkos at 14/15). [46] Short range, these themes are appropriate to the motivation of the Trojan War; long range, the very same themes also provide a setting for the evolution of Achilles as a heroic figure. [47]

7§17. We come back again to the first song of Demodokos in the Odyssey (viii 72–82), where the theme of a future death for Achilles is implicitly signaled by a quarrel at a sacrifice. The sacrifice is described as a daís of the gods (Odyssey viii 76), and the quarrel is a neîkos (Odyssey viii 75). The neîkos and all else that happened thereupon are described as the Will of Zeus (Odyssey viii 82), which is the same traditional device that motivates the neîkos at the beginning of the Cypria (Proclus 102.13–14; Cypria fr. 1 Allen). [48] Likewise at the beginning of our Iliad, the Will of Zeus (Iliad I 5) leads to éris ‘strife’ between Achilles and Agamemnon (ἐρίσαντε: Iliad I 6; ἔριδι: I 8), [49] and this strife takes the form of a neîkos ‘quarrel’ (ἔριδας καὶ νείκεα: Iliad II 376). [50] In the words of Agamemnon, éris ‘strife’ is a theme that defines the very character of Achilles:

7§18. In the beginning of the Iliad, we can now see a marked divergence in theme. The setting for the strife and quarreling between Achilles and Agamemnon is not a feast—let alone a sacrifice. [52] In fact, it is just the opposite. During the time that Achilles and Agamemnon were having their quarrel, Zeus and all the Olympians were away at a daís (κατὰ δαῖτα: Iliad I 424) in the far-off land of the Aithiopes (Iliad I 423–424), situated at the extremities of the universe. [53] Whenever the gods are away at such a daís with the remote Aithiopes, the efficacy of a sacrifice by the heroes in the here-and-now of the epic narrative is in question. [54] Yet the notion of ‘divide, apportion, allot’ inherent in the institution of the daís is very much present in the Strife Scene that begins the Iliad, even if the daís itself is notably absent as a setting. The word daíomai ‘divide, apportion, allot’ is actually used in Iliad I to describe the grievance of Achilles over his being deprived of his fair allotment in the spoils of war (δάσσαντο: Iliad I 368, to be read in the overall context of Iliad I 365–392, especially 392).

7§19. In the beginning of the Iliad, the more pervasive mode of describing the loss by Achilles of his fair share is by way of the noun tīmḗ ‘honor’ and the verbs formally related to it (see especially Iliad I 505–510, 558–559; II 3–4). [55] The word tīmḗ, as we have seen, is also appropriate for designating what it was that Pyrrhos had pursued by quarreling over slices of meat: the hero’s wrangle was “on account of his rightful tīmaí” (kūriân [or moiriân!] perì tīmân: Pindar Paean 6.118). [56] As for Achilles, he loses his tīmḗ ‘honor’ specifically because Agamemnon has taken away his géras ‘honorific portion’: [57]

In this particular case, of course, the géras is a captive girl. Elsewhere in the Iliad, however, the same word refers to a choice cut of meat, le morceau du héros, awarded to the foremost warrior of the moment:

Let us contrast again the concern over the tīmḗ of Achilles in Iliad I: The situation is unlike that of Ajax in Iliad VII, in that Iliad I lacks the setting of a daís. Even later on in the Iliad, there seems to be a set of insistent allusions to this initial Iliadic divergence from the theme of the daís, as when Odysseus says to Achilles:

The detailed side-stepping here of the theme of a dais draws all the more attention to it. The wording of this passage, so strikingly parallel in detail to the one we have considered immediately before (Iliad VII 319–322), again conjures up for us the theme of awarding, in the context of a daís, the choice cut of meat—this time to the foremost warrior of the Iliad in its entirety. And the speaker is Odysseus, who had quarreled in another traditional scene with Achilles himself at a daís where the preeminence of the epic heroes was somehow at stake (Odyssey viii 72–82). Later on in the Iliad, again it will be Odysseus who proposes a daís as the setting for Agamemnon’s making amends to Achilles (Iliad XIX 179–180), and it will be at this daís that Achilles finally witnesses the undoing of his loss of tīmḗ (Iliad XIX 268–281). [59]

7§20. The time has come to underscore an interesting contrast that has been emerging between the figures of Achilles and Pyrrhos. For the Achilles of our Iliad, the restoration of tīmḗ happens at a daís—but the same does not hold for the Strife Scene where he had originally lost that tīmḗ. Pyrrhos, on the other hand, has his Strife Scene on account of his tīmaí at an overt sacrifice; furthermore, his actions mirror closely on the level of myth the proceedings of the sacrifice on the level of ritual. To put it another way, our story of Pyrrhos is much closer to a ritual quarrel over cuts of sacrificial meat than our story of Achilles, where the narrative elements have been considerably stylized—especially in Iliad I.

7§21. The epic stylization that affects the theme of a choice cut of meat for Achilles, le morceau du héros, actually runs very deep. In certain instances of Homeric diction, even the comparative approach secures the notion of ‘allotment, portion’ for words that designate the epic destiny of Achilles. Such is the case with aîsa, designating the Iliadic destiny of Achilles in contexts stressing his excessively brief lifespan (e.g., Iliad I 416, 418); when we turn to the comparative method, we find such related forms as Oscan aiteis, functionally equivalent to Latin partis (genitive of pars ‘share, allotment’). [60] More overtly, the word moîra not only functions as a synonym of aîsa in some Homeric contexts where it carries the sense of ‘fate’. [61] It also designates specifically ‘cut of meat’ in other contexts (e.g., Odyssey iii 66). [62] Finally, for yet another example of stylized imagery that is traditionally connected with the theme of a champion’s portion for Achilles, I cite the complex word kḗr. [63] In the plural, kêres at IX 411 specifically designates the two possible courses of epic action between which Achilles must choose [64] —a nóstos ‘safe homecoming’ with a long life on the one hand or, on the other, a brief life with a kléos ‘glory’ that is everlasting (Iliad IX 410–416). [65]

7§22. Such highly elaborated formal imagery surrounding the Achilles figure in the Iliad distances him considerably from Pyrrhos, that stark figure of a savage warrior who is lunging after a choice cut of meat to which he lays claim. And yet, the same Iliad that stylizes the actions of Achilles to their ultimate epic refinement can also bridge the vast distance of heroic evolution and suddenly picture Achilles on the most fundamental level of savage behavior. The god Apollo, who brought about the death of both father and son, says these words to mark the hero of the Iliad, Achilles himself:

The use of the word daís in this image of stark savagery is particularly striking as it applies to the Achilles figure. Actually, this characterization of the Iliadic hero is quite in tune with a latent dimension that keeps surfacing at moments of intense heroic anguish, as when Achilles is grieving over his dead hetaîros:

The verb térpomai ‘be gladdened’ can conventionally designate gratification by way of eating (e.g., Iliad XI 780), and it is precisely this theme of eating that functions as the immediate context for the passage under consideration. The elders of the Achaeans are imploring Achilles to eat (Iliad XIX 303–304), but he refuses and insists on keeping a fast (Iliad XIX 304–308, 319–321); while he is fasting, he actually reminisces about the meals that Patroklos used to serve up to him (Iliad XIX 314–318, especially 316). This grim juxtaposition of two images, the bloody jaws of war and the hero who goes without meals while Patroklos lies unavenged, is only part of a ghastly Iliadic theme that finally comes to a head at the moment when a victorious Achilles is standing triumphant over the sprawled figure of a dying Hektor and says:

We recall the simile, uttered by Apollo himself, comparing Achilles to a carnivorous lion whose thūmós impels it to its daís ‘feast’ of sheep (Iliad XXIV 41–43). [67] So also here, the ménos and thūmós of Achilles are bringing our hero to the verge of a bestial deed. In another simile comparing Achilles with a raging lion (Iliad XX 164–175), the beast is described as impelling itself to fight:

The stance of the beast is then directly compared to the manner in which the ménos and thūmós of Achilles impel him to fight:

In effect, then, the simile is saying that Achilles has the thūmós of a lion, in that the beast’s intrinsic behavior is set in the same way as Achilles is driven by his thūmós. Little wonder, then, that Achilles qualifies as thūmoléōn ‘he who has the thūmós of a lion’ (as at Iliad VII 228). [69] Little wonder, moreover, that the mother of Hektor reviles Achilles as ōmēstḗs ‘eater of raw meat’ (Iliad XXIV 207). [70]

7§23. By the end of the Iliad, however, these hideous dimensions of the heroic temperament are a thing of the past, as compassion finally takes hold of Achilles and he restores the body of Hektor to the grieving father. What is more, the setting for this ultimate scene of heroic compassion and refinement is again a feast—this time initiated by Achilles himself (Iliad XXIV 599–601). No sooner said than done, the feast is held, and we get our last Iliadic glimpse of Achilles as he presides over the affair—and actually apportions the sacrificial meat:

7§24. To sum up our survey: the Aeacids, we now see, have a special affinity to the theme of the daís, but for Achilles the Homeric tradition expresses this affinity in a manner that downplays the ritual aspects of the daís. For the Achilles figure, the most overt—or the least downplayed—Homeric manifestation of the ritual element is the first song of Demodokos at viii 72–82, where the hero’s future death is implicitly linked with the themes of Delphi/sacrifice/quarrel—and these are the same themes that frame the death of Pyrrhos as it is presented in Pindar’s Paean 6 and Nemean 7.

7§25. The narrative of viii 72–82, however, is so compressed that we are still left with a number of mysteries surrounding the neîkos ‘quarrel’ of Achilles and Odysseus. Perhaps the most intriguing question is this: we know that the neîkos happened at a daís of the gods (Odyssey viii 76), but why is this daís connected with a prophecy that emanates specifically from Delphi (Odyssey viii 79–81)? From what we have seen of the close parallelism between the story of how Pyrrhos died at Delphi and the themes of viii 72–82, we are led to speculate whether the dais where Achilles and Odysseus quarreled is a theme that actually incorporates Delphic lore. If this were the case, then the epic scene that opens the first song of Demodokos would be even more ritual in orientation than we had imagined, what with the sacral ideology of Delphi as an informing principle. The contrast with the opening of the Iliad, where the neîkos of Achilles and Agamemnon lacks even the setting of a feast—let alone a sacrifice—would then be all the more remarkable. [71] We may add that the opening of the first song of Demodokos is in any case a treatment with more ritual undertones than even the opening of the Cypria, where the daís that serves as the setting for the neîkos of the gods is presented from a narrative vantage that stresses not so much a sacrifice by heroes to gods but rather a feast attended by heroes and gods together. [72]

7§26. What kind of epic composition can we imagine that commences not only with an overt sacrifice as the opening scene but also with links to the sacral lore of Delphi? To confront the first part of the question, let us look at the evidence of allusions in actual Homeric diction and theme. The most suggestive passage for our purposes is the lengthy Cretan narrative in Odyssey xiv (192–359), told by Odysseus in the guise of a Cretan princeling. The main adventure, an expedition led by our Cretan adventurer to plunder the wealth of Egypt (Odyssey xiv 245–286), is twice directly correlated in the narrative with the great Achaean expedition to Troy (Odyssey xiv 229–231, 235–242). In fact, the hero of the narrative claims that he not only fought in the Trojan War but also was actually the leader of the Cretan contingent, along with the mighty Iliadic hero, Idomeneus himself (Odyssey xiv 237–238). Since the narrative endeavors to enhance the scale of the Egyptian expedition so as to match the epic proportions of the Trojan expedition, it is important to observe precisely how the launching of the enterprise is described. Significantly, the Cretan leader of the expedition to Egypt holds an overtly sacrificial daís lasting for six days (Odyssey xiv 249–251), and only thereafter can his ships sail off. From this passage, then, we infer that a daís might be an appropriate setting to open a narrative about a Trojan expedition.

7§27. We come now to the second part of our question: why should Delphi be connected with the theme of the daís at which Achilles and Odysseus quarreled? Here the historical evidence about Delphi itself may be pertinent. From the eighth and seventh centuries B.C. onward, by virtue of its becoming a centralized Panhellenic repository of myriad local religious traditions, the Delphic Oracle was evolving into the ideological and political center that coordinated the launching of expeditions for the purpose of founding new cities and for other such monumental enterprises. [73] From the standpoint of a local epic that relates the founding of one city or the destruction and plundering of another, the setting of a daís—especially in the context of Delphi—could provide for an appropriate opening scene. [74]

7§28. The Iliad as we have it, on the other hand, is of course a composition that goes far beyond the dimensions and interests of any local epic tradition. Our Iliad is clearly Panhellenic in scope, and an opening like the one in the first song of Demodokos may have fallen far too short of the thematic range that Homeric Epos requires. But whether or not the specific themes in the first song of Demodokos are worthy of Iliadic standards, it is more important for us now to stress two facts about our Iliad that pertain directly. First, the isolated Iliadic reference to Delphi actually concerns Achilles: aside from the Catalogue reference (Iliad II 519), [75] all that remains is the one mention of Delphi which, as we have seen, apparently confronts Achilles with the remote thematic alternative of plundering Delphi instead of Troy (Iliad IX 404–405). [76] Second, we are about to see that there are Iliadic references to local epic traditions concerning Achilles, although they are as a rule merely marginal. In the Iliad, such references could not be allowed to interfere with the Panhellenic central theme of the expedition to Troy—an expedition that goes far beyond local epic interests. [77]

7§29. The Trojan expedition, as it is presented in its ultimate form by our Iliad, is a grand theme which, by converging on the one main goal of Troy, unites on the level of content the heroic and material resources of the various cultural centers that may each once have had their own epic traditions about conquering various territories. [78] Aside from its centralized thematic concern about the expedition to Troy, however, the Iliad also manages some marginal references to epic traditions about various other expeditions to other places, notably Lesbos (Iliad IX 129, 271, 664), Skyros (Iliad IX 668), Tenedos (Iliad XI 625), and Lyrnessos and Pedasos (Iliad XIX 60; XX 90–92, 188–194; cf. XI 104–112). [79] These expeditions all involve territories that would have been Aeolic at the time that our Iliad took its present shape, [80] and the Iliadic references to them consistently stress the heroic preeminence of Achilles. [81] This emphasis on Achilles is particularly striking in the case of Lesbos: the Iliad says that Achilles himself captured all Lesbos (Iliad IX 129, 271), and the significance of such a heroic deed seems to have less to do with the epic fate of nearby Troy and far more with the here-and-now of a Homeric audience in the eighth or seventh century B.C. [82] The Iliad is here verifying something that applies from the standpoint of this era: that the affinity of the Achilles figure with this particular Aeolic island is a matter of acknowledged tradition, incorporated even by Panhellenic Epos. [83]

7§30. From the standpoint of such localized epic traditions, the first song of Demodokos would have been appropriate as the opening of an epic composition about an expedition undertaken by Achilles. Such a composition would have acknowledged the Oracle of Delphi as the authority that inspired the epic expedition, and the setting of a sacrifice would provide an appropriate opening Strife Scene for motivating the eventual death of the main hero who undertook the enterprise. This much I can now say with somewhat more confidence, having found a distant parallel in the form of a Strife Scene at a Delphic sacrifice, leading to the death of Pyrrhos, son of Achilles.