When we use the word “ambush” in the phrase “poetics of ambush,” we mean it as a convenient name for a theme that encompasses many types of activities. Ambush is one of the most prominent of these activities, which is why we have chosen it to stand for the whole, but the theme also includes spying missions, raids on enemy camps, cattle rustling, and other types of epic warfare that happen at night. Action at night is a key characteristic of the ambush theme, and we may also recognize an ambush by several other telling characteristics. The heroes wear animal skins, crouch in hidden positions, sometimes in marshy or woody locations near a road, endure discomfort as they lie in wait, and use planning and intelligence to overcome a foe that they might otherwise not be able to. The term lokhos ‘ambush’ and related words are, of course, significant, but they may not always be explicit. We will discuss in greater detail each of these markers of the ambush theme, as well as {32|33} how these different kinds of activities may be considered sub-themes that are traditionally linked with one another.

But we cannot take this schema too far. Even in the Iliad Achilles can be the hero of ambush. In Iliad 21, we learn that Achilles captured the Trojan Lykaon at night, in what is presumably a night raid with unmistakable suggestions of ambush:

Whatever distinctions may exist between the Iliad and the Odyssey, an exclusive denigration or privileging of ambush warfare is not among them. The theme of ambush, like its heroes, is much more complex and adaptable than that.

The Achilles of our Iliad is clearly a promakhos anēr, but the epic tradition as a whole knew Achilles as an ambusher. The scholion in the Venetus A manuscript at Iliad 22.188 records that even such a seemingly canonical confrontation as that between Hektor and Achilles at the climax of the Iliad could be narrated as an ambush:

It is far from clear what the scholiast means by “the rest” (οἱ δὲ λοιποὶ) here—we were not able to find a similar comment anywhere else in the scholia—but the implications of the comment are easily grasped: in some versions, Achilles took Hektor down by ambush.

It becomes less surprising that the best warriors in conventional battle are also frequently seen as the best in ambush warfare when we consider that both the Iliad and the Odyssey associate ambush warfare with exceptional courage and endurance. In Iliad 13, Meriones makes his claim to be one who fights “among the first” (13.270), which conventionally signifies the bravery of a warrior in conventional battle. In response, Idomeneus praises Meriones for his courage and abilities as a warrior who is excellent at ambush:

In this exchange, there is no opposition or contradiction between Meriones’ claim and Idomeneus’ praise: instead, polemos and lokhos are complementary, and the two characterizations show that Meriones is a complete warrior who excels at both. In addition, here we see ambush {46|47} described as “the place where the merit of men most shines through, where the coward and the resolute man are revealed” (Iliad 13.277–278). We can see that it involves crouching and staying still for long periods of time, time when lesser men are overcome by their fears. Ambush requires a particular kind of courage, different from that required to fight in front in conventional battle, and one that reveals aretē most of all. Thus, rather than being “lesser” or based in “cowardice” as some modern commentators would have it, Idomeneus’ words portray ambush as type of warfare only for the anēr alkimos (Iliad 13.278).

The purpose of this discussion so far has been simply to explore the complexity of the Greek warrior hero and to suggest that modern notions of “heroic” behavior have colored our approaches to Homeric epic. The lokhos warfare of Iliad 10 does not seem so anomalous when we consider the Archaic epic tradition as a whole and what both the Iliad and the Odyssey have to say about ambush. By approaching Homeric poetry as a system, of which the Iliad and Odyssey happen to be the only two surviving examples, we can look for traditional narrative patterns that explain what may seem unusual from a modern literary perspective. It is possible to reconstruct a great deal of the system we have lost {48|49} by carefully studying allusions to and summaries and quotations of the lost epics of the Epic Cycle. This more inclusive approach to Homeric poetry is what we adopt in this commentary, in which we hope to show that the figures of Diomedes and Odysseus behave in an entirely traditional manner in Iliad 10. If even Achilles can be a master of the lokhos, then it should not surprise us that a hero as versatile as Diomedes in the literary and mythological tradition has done his fair share of both kinds of fighting. And while the affinities between Iliad 10, the Odyssey, and even the Epic Cycle have been noticed before, it is our hope that we can move past using those affinities to make claims about the book’s late or non-Homeric authorship, and instead focus on how the poetics of the book add to our understanding of the poetics of the Iliad and the nature of the Homeric hero.

At almost the midpoint of the book, just as Diomedes and Odysseus head out on their expedition, a lengthy description of the arming of Odysseus and Diomedes takes place:

The armor that they wear is in many ways atypical. Most distinctive is what they wear on their heads. Diomedes and Odysseus wear leather skull-caps (κυνέην … ταυρείην … ἥ τε καταῖτυξ κέκληται—the word καταῖτυξ is used only here in extant Greek literature), and the history of Odysseus’ headgear is elaborately described: Odysseus’ own maternal grandfather Autolykos stole it and gave it away as a gift to Amphidamas, who likewise gave it as a gift to Molos, who then gave it to the Cretan Meriones, who now gives it to Odysseus along with the other weapons Odysseus will carry, a bow and quiver and sword (see the next section for more on the bow and quiver). {52|53}

Similar to the expanded arming scene of Paris and the subsequent, compressed version of Menelaos in Iliad 3, we see that after the series of dressing scenes and the arming scene of Diomedes and Odysseus in Iliad 10, Dolon has a more compressed version, only three lines long (Iliad 10.333–335). He, too, dresses for his mission in attire that seems unusual, but which is appropriate for a nocturnal spying mission. He actually wears his animal pelt, that of a wolf, as he goes, and also has a skin cap, specified as made from the hide of a marten. He takes two weapons with him, a bow and a spear. That all three of these spies take weapons with them reflects, of course, the dangerous nature of their missions, but it also reveals that spying missions often become ambushes, a phenomenon we will address in greater detail below.

In the night raid/ambush tradition, it seems that the dressing and arming of heroes have a poetic purpose similar to the expanded arming {54|55} scenes of conventional battle. Like these scenes, they contribute both to suspense, by increasing the audience’s anticipation of the coming ambush or raid, and to characterization, as the details of each dressing or arming passage reveal important aspects of the hero’s character as a fighter. Using arming scenes from Slavic epic as a comparison, Lord argues that there could also be a ritual aspect to the expanded or ‘ornamental’ arming scene: in the Iliad that ritual aspect “is probably one of dedication to the task and saving the hero’s people, even of sacrifice. Each of these men is about to set out upon a mission of deep significance, and the ‘ornamental’ theme is a signal and mark, both ‘ritualistic’ and artistic, of the role of the hero” (Lord 1960/2000:91). Although Lord does not include the arming scene of Iliad 10 in his discussion, it shares in this thematic significance. Odysseus and Diomedes, too, are arming for a special mission, and the details of what they wear, as we have just seen, are also a signal that they are taking on a particular role: at night the task is ambush, and that is what our heroes dress for.

Thus the dressing and arming scenes in Iliad 10 are consistent with a theme seen elsewhere in the epic. But even more importantly, they serve to signal that the poet is moving into a different poetic register. The poet transitions by way of such scenes from one larger theme to another, and the alternative style of clothing is emblematic of not only this alternative mode of fighting but also an alternative poetics. The dressing scenes are our point of entry into this alternate, nighttime poetic world, in which heroes wear animal skins and leather caps, employ cunning rather than meet the enemy face-to-face, and do {56|57} things that they might not in broad daylight. Please see the commentary in Part Three on these lines for more ways in which specific details of the clothing described in this passage are best understood within the poetics of ambush.

In addition to the animal skins and leather caps that signal a nighttime ambush theme, there is an additional detail to be noted in these arming scenes in Iliad 10 that is not present in the arming scenes that occur before conventional battle: both Odysseus and Dolon take a bow (Iliad 10.260 for Odysseus; Iliad 10.333 for Dolon). Why would this weapon appear only in the night arming scenes? Applying a practical approach to that question, McLeod (1988) demonstrates that the bow is known to be a particularly effective weapon in the dark of night. Working from both the information provided in Iliad scholia and comparative military sources, McLeod explains that an archer in the darkness has an advantage in shooting targets lit by campfires or torches (McLeod 1988:121–123). He then extends his argument to suggest that skilled archers may also be able to find targets in the dark by aiming at sound, and concludes that “the possibility remains that archers could be effective even in total darkness” (McLeod 1988:123–124).

Although we have seen that bows can be an especially effective weapon at night, and that there are shared thematic concepts between archery and ambush, the bows that Dolon and Odysseus take on their respective missions are not in fact used as weapons in this episode. That is, we do not see the bow in action at night here. Diomedes uses his spear to stop Dolon in his tracks (Iliad 10.369–375), and he uses his sword to kill the Thracians (Iliad 10.482–484, 10.489), but Dolon never uses any of his weapons, and Odysseus uses his bow only to whip the horses (Iliad 10.500, 10.516). Any expectations raised by the inclusion of the bows in the arming scenes are, in the end, confounded by how this episode turns out, yet the confounding of expectations may itself be {61|62} a feature of spying mission and ambush episodes. Another possibility is that the bow, like the special caps and other gear worn by Odysseus and Diomedes in Iliad 10, is a narrative signal so closely associated with ambush warfare that a poet would naturally include it as part of a spy’s equipment, whether or not it is ever actually used in the episode.

One practical reason behind some of the differences in clothing and armor we find in Iliad 10 has to do with another nexus within the poetics of ambush, namely, the effect that the darkness of night has on the sense of sight. In the dark, the sense of sight is, of course, diminished, and the difficulty of moving through the darkness is emphasized in this book, as are the dangers attendant on the inability to see clearly. The corollary to this difficulty in seeing at night is the need for ambushers or spies to move undetected, to remain unseen. As we see in Iliad 10 when Nestor and Agamemnon arrive at Diomedes’ encampment, metal such as bronze can shine even in the dark:

Whatever light is available at night, from the moon or from watch- or campfires, will be reflected by the metal armor used in daytime fighting, making metal a liability on ambush or spying missions. (For how that particular liability becomes decisive in the night raid episode in Aeneid 9, see our discussion of it in our essay, “Tradition and Reception.”) These thematic elements of sight and stealth in the dark are one reason for leather helmets or other gear that seem unusual at first glance but are actually appropriate to maneuvers in the dark.

With the proper equipment, a dark night is generally an asset to an ambusher. Darkness enables hiding, the surprise nature of the attack, and a successful escape afterwards. We see all of these benefits in the compressed story of an ambush that Odysseus tells within one of his Cretan tales (Odyssey 13.259–270). There we see that the dark night {62|63} (νὺξ δὲ μάλα δνοφερὴ κάτεχ’ οὐρανόν, Odyssey 13.269) allows him to strike his victim, Orsilokhos, after lying in wait for him near the road with a comrade (ἐγγὺς ὁδοῖο λοχησάμενος σὺν ἑταίρῳ, Odyssey 13.268). After the murder darkness also helps him to escape from Crete unseen (Odyssey 13.269–270). Although darkness may require advance planning to navigate its difficulties, it gives the ambusher a definite advantage.

Because sight is limited at night, hearing becomes a more important sense. But what one hears, especially in the dark, is less certain and more in need of interpretation. Visual and auditory perception are highlighted from the beginning of Iliad 10, as Agamemnon sees the numerous campfires of the Trojans on the plain and hears their music and the din of their activity (Iliad 10.11–13). As we discuss in our commentary on those lines, the description of these sights and sounds and Agamemnon’s reaction to them reveal that we are seeing and hearing from his point of view. In other words, Agamemnon’s distress focalizes the sights and sounds from the Trojan camp, and his reaction forefronts his own interpretation, namely, that his perceptions mean trouble for the Achaeans.

Later, the need to interpret sounds correctly becomes a key element in the capture of Dolon. Odysseus shows off his ambush skills and mētis when he and Diomedes first embark on their mission. Just as Diomedes hoped his partner would (Iliad 10.224–226), Odysseus is the first to perceive Dolon, and uses his intelligence in planning their strategy. Odysseus suggests that they get ahead of Dolon on the plain so that they can rush and seize him, and if Dolon outruns them he will still be cut off from Troy (Iliad 10.344–348). So they let Dolon pass them and run after him from behind, at which point hearing and seeing come into play. Dolon hears their footsteps and perceives that those footsteps are behind him. Then we are told how he interprets the noise and its location:

Dolon’s assumption, based on the sound of someone running up behind him, that is, from the same direction he has come, is that they must be his comrades, also coming from the Trojan camp. He assumes they have come to deliver a message to abort the mission. Odysseus’ strategy cuts Dolon off from an escape route and has the added benefit of hindering {64|65} Dolon’s ability to interpret the sound of their approach correctly. Only once Diomedes and Odysseus are much closer can Dolon see that they are not his comrades at all, and he realizes his appraisal was wrong. Dolon is a swift runner (Iliad 10.316), but the fact that he stops when he hears the footsteps gives Diomedes and Odysseus an advantage in capturing him.

We have already seen that some of these same concerns and problems are present in the night episode in Iliad 10 and that careful planning is necessary to avoid the kind of confusion the Athenians suffered at Epipolae. In addition to the precautions taken because of limited sight and the possibility for confusion related to sound, we see a great deal of attention paid to spatial orientation in this episode. Odysseus asks for details about not only the night watch (Iliad 10.408) but also the arrangements of the Trojan camp (Iliad 10.424–425). Dolon provides these details (Iliad 10.428–431) before directing Odysseus and Diomedes to the Thracians, who are “farthest apart from the others” (Iliad 10.434), a factor that seems to make them a better target for an ambush. This detailed information is necessary because of the difficulties of moving, as well as fighting, in the dark. Below we will discuss how ambush is structured like a journey, both a going there and a returning home, and such information is necessary to successfully complete that journey, to navigate a terrain that might even be familiar in daylight, but which presents new dangers on this night in particular. When Diomedes and Odysseus ambush the Thracians, confusion is further averted by planning: Odysseus and Diomedes divide the tasks to be done (Iliad 10.480–481). When Odysseus has finished freeing the horses, he signals to Diomedes with a single sound (Iliad 10.502): his whistle balances the need for quiet as part of stealth with the inability to signal with a gesture or some other means that relies on sight.

Once we realize how the dark of night affects the strategies and actions of these kinds of missions, and therefore the language used {66|67} to express them, we can better understand certain figures of speech that would otherwise seem problematic. We find one such figure of speech in a line that has long bothered Homeric scholars, the climactic moment when Diomedes kills Rhesos. Here is how the verses read in the Venetus A text:

In the Venetus A manuscript, there is an obelos next to 10.497, and the corresponding scholion indicates that it is athetized “because it is paltry even in its composition [sunthesis: its connection to the previous line], and because it means but does not say that Diomedes stands by Rhesos like a dream, and because ‘through the scheme of Athena’ is vexing, for it was rather through the report of Dolon” (ἀθετεῖται, ὅτι καὶ τῇ συνθέσει εὐτελής· καὶ μὴ ῥηθέντος δὲ νοεῖται ὅτι ὡς ὄναρ ἐφίσταται τῷ Ῥήσῳ ὁ Διομήδης, καὶ τὸ <διὰ μῆτιν Ἀθήνης> λυπεῖ· μᾶλλον γὰρ διὰ τὴν Δόλωνος ἀπαγγελίαν). The intermarginal A scholion on the line notes that this line was not in the editions of either Zenodotus or Aristophanes.

Bernard Fenik has examined the perceived anomalies in these lines, which have caused modern scholars, as well, to challenge both the inclusion of 10.497 in our text and the meaning of the line; they have done so not only for the reasons stated in the A scholia, but also because of the accusative τὴν νύκτ(α) (Fenik 1964:44–54). Fenik adduces parallel uses of the accusative to mean ‘time when’ rather than ‘extent of time’ in Homeric epic, and as a result he dismisses that element as a reason for excluding the line. Instead, Fenik argues that the bad dream is an older element within the tradition about Rhesos that is being referred to in a compressed way here, and, similarly, that the mētis of Athena is part of a tradition that is not explained or explored in full in this version. {67|68}

We can compare the similar action in the dark that takes place when Achilles first captures Lykaon, a passage that we examined above in our discussion of Achilles as an ambusher. This description of a nighttime attack also uses an apposition, this time between Achilles and what his presence means for Lykaon—an unexpected evil:

Unlooked-for evil comes to Lykaon and suddenly, coming out of the darkness, that evil is Achilles. The abrupt appearance of the metaphor is an aural experience similar to the eyes finally focusing in the dark, such as when Dolon finally discerns that the men running toward him are his enemies, but only after it is too late to escape. The appositions in Iliad 21 and Iliad 10, the unlooked-for evil that suddenly appears and the bad dream that comes true, emphasize the unexpected and unseen nature of the attacks. The mental picture created is especially frightening: the emergence of the enemy from the previously empty darkness. The performance language for episodes including attacks at night, we suggest, may have developed a special use of language, this abrupt, almost jarring apposition, to recreate verbally what happens within the story visually as the enemy comes into the focus of his victim.

In Iliad 10, the planning of the mission and selection of men is followed by an arming scene. If other night raid episodes from the Epic Cycle survived, we might have more examples of such scenes. As it is, only one other ambush in the Homeric epics, Menelaos’ ambush of Proteus, shows particular preparations of dress. The preparation for the disguise and concealment is narrated here in some detail. Menelaos tells Telemakhos about how he was delayed in Egypt and could only find out how to get home by ambushing the sea god Proteus (Odyssey 4.351–480): the ambush is suggested by the goddess Eidothea (τόν γ’ εἴ πως σὺ δύναιο λοχησάμενος λελαβέσθαι, Odyssey 4.388), who also does the planning and makes preparations for it. She suggests ambushing Proteus in his sleep, as he lies among the seals, and orders Menelaos to choose his three best men: as we have seen, it is always the best (aristoi) who go on ambushes (Odyssey 4.403–409). To enable the four men to hide while they wait for the arrival of Proteus and for the moment he falls asleep, Eidothea provides them with four seal hides recently {72|73} skinned for the plot (δόλος) she has arranged (Odyssey 4.435–437). They will hide beneath these animal skins, a parallel to those skins featured in the dressing scenes in Iliad 10. Although these preparations differ from those of the arming scene we have in Iliad 10, the two scenes do share ambushers who dress or equip themselves specifically for stealth.

Menelaos’ description of his ambush of Proteus also highlights the discomfort involved. Once Eidothea has prepared the seal skins for Menelaos and his chosen best men, she sits them down and covers them with the seal skin, and Menelaos says this would have been a most dreadful ambush because of the endurance it would have required: {74|75}

Eidothea comes to their rescue again by placing ambrosia under their noses so that they can endure their wait there, hidden under the seal skins, and indeed Menelaos relates how they wait all morning with an enduring spirit (πᾶσαν δ’ ἠοίην μένομεν τετληότι θυμῷ, Odyssey 4.447). Because Proteus sleeps during the day, this ambush on a sleeping target takes place in daylight instead of the dark, but the concealment and need for endurance remains. The language of endurance, as it does here, often includes some form of the verb τλάω, which is fitting since ambush requires both endurance and daring to overcome fear and accomplish the mission. Odysseus, the champion of ambush, has not one but three distinctive epithets that can relate to this quality of endurance: πολύτλας, ταλασίφρονος, and τλήμων.

Many factors contribute to the surprise nature of the attack. Night is, of course, often the time when ambush occurs, as we see in the examples of the suitors’ attempt to ambush Telemakhos (Odyssey 16.365–370) and the ambushes Odysseus describes in his Cretan lies (Odyssey 13.259–272, νύξ at 13.269 and Odyssey 14.468–503, νύξ at 14.475). The darkness adds to both the concealment prior to the attack and the surprise, since the victims do not see the attackers clearly until it is too late, which is precisely what happens to Dolon (Iliad 10.354–359). Similarly, when Achilles ambushes Lykaon at night, Lykaon does not see him in time to escape (Iliad 21.34–39). The fact that Lykaon is out cutting branches for chariot rails at night seems to be a consequence of the siege of Troy, making his foray outside of the city another example of a dangerous night mission. When his father Priam makes his own nighttime journey outside the city and into the Achaean camp, his appearance in Achilles’ shelter produces great surprise for Achilles and his companions (Iliad 24.483–484).

The similarities between homecoming journeys and ambush-themed missions are revealed in several places. When Priam is about to set out on a nighttime infiltration into the enemy camp in Iliad 24, Hecuba asks him to pray to Zeus for his arrival back home (τῆ σπεῖσον Διὶ πατρί, καὶ εὔχεο οἴκαδ’ ἱκέσθαι / ἂψ ἐκ δυσμενέων ἀνδρῶν, Iliad 24.287–288). And in another sort of collocation of these themes, Menelaos has to successfully ambush Proteus in order to realize his homecoming (τόν γ’ εἴ πως σὺ δύναιο λοχησάμενος λελαβέσθαι, / ὅς κέν τοι εἴπῃσιν ὁδὸν καὶ μέτρα κελεύθου / νόστον θ’, ὡς ἐπὶ πόντον ἐλεύσεαι ἰχθυόεντα, Odyssey 4.388–390).

So, when Diomedes is looking for a partner for the nocturnal spying mission in Iliad 10, he chooses Odysseus for the qualities that make him a good ambusher, especially his ability to get home: {78|79}

In the commentary on these lines, we discuss further how the qualities of the willing heart and audacious spirit are appropriate to ambush, but here we will emphasize that Diomedes says that Odysseus could get them home even from a blazing fire. And on an ambush, as on a journey, getting home is a crucial aspect of the mission. Athena, the goddess who loves both Odysseus and Diomedes, tells Diomedes during the ambush to remember his homecoming (νόστου δὴ μνῆσαι μεγαθύμου Τυδέος υἱὲ, Iliad 10.509, see also the commentary on this line). Only that way can the mission be a success.

Once we recognize that the theme of ambush overlaps with that of the journey, sharing both formulaic language (since formulas work in service of theme) and structure, certain aspects of Iliad 10 are more easily understood. The meal and especially the bath that end the episode are often found in the context of a journey with similar language, and they have been seen as out of place here or too “Odyssean” (see commentary on 10.566–579). As we have seen with other aspects of the language in Iliad 10, it is Odyssean not because it is late or non-Iliadic or non-Homeric, but because it shares in the same themes as the Odyssey, including both ambush and journey. In the next section we will discuss how spying missions, ambushes, and night raids are thematically related, but all of these resemble journeys because they all seem to be conceived very generally as narratives of “going there and getting back.” {79|80}

As we mentioned above, we are treating as part of the theme of ambush other similarly structured episodes, such as night raids and spying missions. There seems to be considerable thematic overlap between such episodes. We propose that each particular episode is best understood within the framework of a larger ambush theme that encompasses them all. Albert Lord describes the working of what he calls the “habitual association of themes” in the composition of oral poetry. He notes that such associations need not be linear, that theme ‘b’ always follows theme ‘a’, and that this is due to “a strong force that keeps certain themes together. It is deeply embedded in the tradition” (Lord 1960/2000:97–98). Lord later picks up this point in his discussion of the song as a whole in an oral tradition: “At the end of the previous chapter we saw that some themes have a tendency to cling together, held by a kind of tension, and to form recurrent patterns of groups of themes. They adhere to one another so tenaciously that their use transcends the boundaries of any one song or of any group of songs” (Lord 1960/2000:112). It is this strongly felt connection between the associated themes of ambush, night raids, spying missions, and other types of guerilla or alternative warfare that allows any one of these sub-themes to call up another within the structure of a song. That is, we see in these various episodes, as scattered as they may be in what has survived of the epic tradition outside of Iliad 10, a recurrent pattern of groups of themes, all of which we are referring to as ambush.

But as the tale begins it involves a spying mission. The element of disguise—Odysseus dresses in rags and makes himself look beaten and like a beggar of no account (Odyssey 4.244–249)—also appears in the larger theme of the ambush of the suitors in the Odyssey. Entering the enemy city or camp is described twice here (ἀνδρῶν δυσμενέων κατέδυ πόλιν εὐρυάγυιαν, Odyssey 4.246 and τῷ ἴκελος κατέδυ Τρώων πόλιν, Odyssey 4.249), using formulaic language that connects this spying mission to night episodes such as those in Iliad 10 (e.g. ἀνδρῶν δυσμενέων δῦναι στρατὸν ἐγγὺς ἐόντων / Τρώων, Iliad 10.220–221, εἰ γὰρ δὴ μέματον Τρώων καταδῦναι ὅμιλον, Iliad 10.433 and ὅππως τοῦσδ’ ἵππους λάβετον καταδύντες ὅμιλον / Τρώων, Iliad 10.545–546). The craftiness associated with ambush is also apparent in this episode. Helen relates that, although she recognizes Odysseus, he evades her questioning with his cunning (ὁ δὲ κερδοσύνῃ ἀλέεινεν, Odyssey 4.251). The importance of nostos and noos that we have seen to be shared between ambush and journey themes also appears here, as Helen swears not to reveal Odysseus until he returns safely to the ship, and then he details the whole noos of the Achaeans to Helen (Odyssey 4.252–256). And finally, the successful spying mission (Odysseus brings back much “intelligence”: ἦλθε μετ’ Ἀργείους, κατὰ δὲ φρόνιν ἤγαγε πολλήν, Odyssey 4.258) does become an ambush when Odysseus kills many men before he leaves Troy (πολλοὺς δὲ Τρώων κτείνας ταναήκεϊ χαλκῷ, Odyssey 4.257). We also see the importance of the return here. Only upon return can Odysseus share the information he has learned {81|82} with the Achaeans and then, of course, go on subsequent missions inside Troy, including stealing the Palladion and hiding within the wooden horse, as Menelaos’ story (a performance directly responding to Helen’s) goes on to relate (Odyssey 4.265–289).

As we can see from this compressed example in Helen’s narration of one of Odysseus’ exploits, the language of spying missions and that of ambush episodes have much in common. As Lord noted about closely associated themes, one easily leads to the other. In Proklos’ summary of the Little Iliad, we see a similar episode briefly described: “Odysseus, disfiguring himself, goes into Ilion as a spy. He is recognized by Helen; jointly, they plan the capture of the city. Odysseus kills some Trojans and returns to the ships.” Whether we should consider this the same episode that Helen relates or not (one key difference being the detail that Helen is helping Odysseus to plot the destruction of Troy, rather than just learning of their plans), this summary reveals that an expanded version of such a mission existed.

Even without a full version, connections emerge from recurrences of these themes across the Homeric texts and the Epic Cycle. The Little Iliad as a whole includes several such ambush episodes: Odysseus ambushes Helenos, Diomedes and Odysseus steal the Palladion from Troy, and the wooden horse is built and filled with the warriors who will ambush all of Troy. Thus the whole song seems to be a series of ambush themes, connected one to another and culminating in the greatest ambush at Troy, for it is by ambush warfare that the city is at long last sacked. In Iliad 10, we see a spying mission theme double to become two spying missions, which then turns into an ambush of one spy by the other two, prompting a night raid that includes an ambush of sleeping victims. Even Odyssey 4 seems to be built on themes of ambush: not only do the two aforementioned stories about Odysseus have to do with ambush, but the visit with Menelaos also includes the story of his ambush of Proteus, from whom he learns of Aigisthos’ ambush of Agamemnon. The book then ends with the suitors’ plan to ambush Telemakhos. Thus, as in Iliad 10 or the Little Iliad, these connected themes build on one another to create the larger song.

Familiarity with the traditional structure of ambush allows us to see that what we are calling the poetics of ambush can also enhance our understanding of episodes that might not be deemed ambushes by strict definition. Nowhere is the blinding of the Cyclops called a lokhos, but with Odysseus as its mastermind we should not be surprised that the episode exhibits many of the traditional features of ambush. In Odyssey 9, Odysseus and his ships enter the harbor of the island opposite the land of the Cyclopes under the cover of darkness. There is a thick mist and no moon (9.143–145). The night here is described as νύκτα δι᾽ ὀρφναίην. This formula, which emphasizes night’s darkness, is found elsewhere in Homer only in Iliad 10—and it is also found in the Homeric Hymn to Hermes. In the commentary below (on 10.41), we argue that this formula is closely linked to the theme of ambush.

Odysseus leaves most of his men on the island and from there takes only his own ship over to the land of the Cyclopes. When they arrive he chooses the twelve best of his men from his ship to accompany him in his quest to meet the Cyclops (κρίνας ἑτάρων δυοκαίδεκ’ ἀρίστους, Odyssey 9.195). We have seen that the selection of the “best” men is a traditional component of ambush. This motif recurs once the men are {84|85} imprisoned inside the Cyclops’ cave. Odysseus has the men draw lots to see who will join him in the blinding, and he says that the lots fell to those he himself would have chosen (τοὺς ἄν κε καὶ ἤθελον αὐτὸς ἑλέσθαι, Odyssey 9.334). Prior to the drawing of lots Odysseus tells us that he came up with a plan: ἥδε δέ μοι κατὰ θυμὸν ἀρίστη φαίνετο βουλή (Odyssey 9.318). This verse is the same (with the substitution of οἱ for μοι) as Iliad 10.17, describing Agamemnon’s nighttime deliberations.

It almost goes without saying that the situation Odysseus has gotten himself into in this episode requires mētis to overcome the biē (Odyssey 9.476) of Polyphemos. First, there is the mētis of getting the Cyclops drunk. Next, the blinding itself is compared by way of a simile to the craft of a blacksmith. A second level of mētis is required to get out of the cave once Polyphemos is blinded. Odysseus tells us that he “schemed and schemed” (in the translation of Samuel Butler—the Greek is βούλευον at Odyssey 9.420 with δόλος and μῆτις at Odyssey 9.422: πάντας δὲ δόλους καὶ μῆτιν ὕφαινον), and finally came up with another boulē at Odyssey 9.424 (using the sheep as a disguise), for which the formula ἥδε δέ μοι κατὰ θυμὸν ἀρίστη φαίνετο βουλή is used once again. The importance of mētis is highlighted in the most famous lines of the episode, the pun that so perfectly captures Odysseus’ heroic identity: “Surely mē tis (or, mētis) is killing you by trickery or by biē?” to which Polyphemos has been tricked into replying: “No one is killing me by trickery or by biē ” (Odyssey 9.406–408).

Many of the elements of this episode and the traditional phrases and verses used in its telling have parallels in the other adventures Odysseus relates in Odyssey 9–12, with the result that we can see ambush themes underlying many of these episodes. That Iliad 10 likewise makes use of the poetics of ambush does not make the book “Odyssean” in the various potentially misleading ways that scholars over the past two centuries have used that term. Iliad 10 and the adventures of Odysseus do not resemble each other because they have the same individual author or because they were composed at the same late date. Rather, they are both manifestations of the overarching theme of alternative warfare, which is fueled primarily by mētis, the characteristic most associated with the traditional character of Odysseus.