The Aeneid (7 page)

                The Trojans were in high spirits. They were almost out of
                sight of Sicily and heading for the open sea with the wind astern
                and their bronze prows churning the salt sea to foam, as Juno
                brooded, still nursing the eternal wound deep in her breast: ‘Am
                I to admit defeat and give up my attempt to keep the king of the
                Trojans away from Italy? So the Fates do not approve! Yet
40            Pallas Athene could fire the fleet and drown my own Argives in
                the sea because of the guilt of one man, the mad passion of Ajax,
                son of Oileus. With her own hand she threw the consuming fire
                of Jupiter from the clouds, shattering his ships and sending
                winds to churn up the level sea. Then, as he breathed out flame
                from his breast where the thunderbolt had pierced it, she caught
                him up in a whirlwind and impaled him on a jagged rock. But
                here am I, the Queen of the Gods, the sister of Jupiter and his
                wife, and I have waged war all these years against a whole race
                of men! Is there no one left who worships the godhead of Juno?
                Will there be no one in the future to pray to me and lay an
                offering on my altars?’

50            These are the thoughts the goddess turned over in her burning
                heart as she came to Aeolia, the home of the clouds, a place
                teeming with the raging winds of the south. Here Aeolus is king
                and here in a vast cavern he keeps in subjection the brawling
                winds and howling storms, chained and bridled in their prison.
                They murmur in loud protest round bolted gates in the mountainside
                while Aeolus sits in his high citadel, holding his sceptre,
                soothing their spirits and tempering their angry passions. But
                for him they would catch up the sea, the earth and the deeps of
                the sky and sweep them along through space. In fear of this, the
60           All-powerful Father banished them to these black caverns with
                
massive mountains heaped over them, and gave them under a
                fixed charter a king who knew how to hold them in check or,
                when ordered, to let them run with free rein. It was to him that
                Juno made supplication in these words: ‘I come to you, Aeolus,
                because the Father of the Gods and King of Men has given you
                the power to calm the waves of the sea or raise them by your
                winds. A race of men hateful to me is sailing the Tyrrhenian sea
                carrying Ilium to Italy, along with the Penates, their defeated
                gods. Whip up your winds. Overwhelm their ships and sink
70           them. Drive their fleet in all directions and scatter their bodies
                over the sea. I have fourteen nymphs of the rarest beauty and
                the loveliest of them all is Deiopea. I shall make her yours and
                join you in lawful wedlock. If you do me this service, she shall
                spend all her years with you and make you the father of beautiful
                children.’

                To this Aeolus made answer: ‘Your task, O queen, is to decide
                your wishes; my duty is to carry out your orders. It is thanks to
                you that I rule this little kingdom and enjoy this sceptre and the
                blessing of Jupiter. Through you I have a couch to lie on at the
80           feasts of the gods, and my power over cloud and storm comes
                from you.’

                At these words he struck the side of the hollow mountain
                with the butt of his spear and the winds seemed to form a
                column and pour out through an open gate to blow a hurricane
                over the whole earth. The east wind and the south and the
                south-west with squall upon squall fell upon the sea at once,
                whipping it up from its bottom-most depths and rolling huge
                waves towards its shores. Men shouted, ropes screamed, clouds
                suddenly blotted out the light of the sky from the eyes of the
                Trojans and black night brooded on the sea as the heavens
90           thundered and lightning flashed again and again across the sky.
                Wherever the Trojans looked, death stared them in the face. A
                sudden chill went through Aeneas and his limbs grew weak.
                Groaning, he lifted his hands palms upward to the stars and
                cried: ‘Those whose fate it was to die beneath the high walls of
                Troy with their fathers looking down on them were many, many
                times more fortunate than I. O Diomede, bravest of the Greeks,
                why could I not have fallen to your right hand and breathed out
                
my life on the plains of Troy, where fierce Hector fell by the
100         sword of Achilles, where great Sarpedon lies and where the river
                Simois caught up so many shields and helmets and bodies of
                brave men and rolled them down its current?’

                Even as he threw out these words, a squall came howling
                from the north, catching his sail full on and raising the waves to
                the stars. The oars broke, the prow was wrenched round, and
                as they lay beam on to the seas, there came towering over them
                a sheer mountain of water. Some of the ships were hanging on
                the crests of the waves; for others the waters opened and in the
                troughs could be seen the sea-bed and the seething sand. Three
                of them were caught by the south wind and driven off course
                on to a reef hidden in mid-ocean – Italians know it as the Altars
110         – a huge spine of rock just under the surface; three of them the
                southeaster took and carried helplessly from the high sea on to
                the sandbanks of the Syrtes, ran them aground and blocked
                them in with walls of sand; before the very eyes of Aeneas, the
                ship that carried the faithful Orontes and his Lycians was struck
                on the stern by a great sea and the helmsman was swept away
                head first into the water. Three times she spun round on the
                same spot till the swift whirlpool sucked her down. Here and
                there men could be seen swimming in the vast ocean, and with
                them in the waves their armour, spars of wood and the treasures
120         of Troy. One by one the stout ships of Ilioneus and brave
                Achates, then Abas and old Aletes, succumbed to the storm.
                The fastenings of the ships’ sides were loosened, the deadly
                water poured in and the timbers sprang.

                Neptune, meanwhile, observed the loud disturbance of the
                ocean, the rampaging of storms, the draining of his deepest
                pools, and was moved to anger. Rising from the depths, he lifted
                his head high above the crests of the waves and looked serenely
                out over the sea at Aeneas’ fleet scattered over the face of the
                waters and the Trojans overwhelmed by the waves and by the
130         rending of the sky. He recognized at once the anger and the
                cunning of his sister Juno and instantly summoned the east wind
                and the west and spoke to them in these words: ‘Is it your noble
                birth that has made you so sure of yourselves? Do you winds
                now dare to move heaven and earth and raise these great masses
                
of water without my divine authority? I could take you now and
                …but first I must still the waves you have stirred up. For any
                crimes you commit in the future, you will pay a dearer price.
                Away with you and take this message to your king: “He is not
                the one who has jurisdiction over the sea or holds the trident
                that knows no pity. That is my responsibility, given to me by
140         lot. His domain, O Eurus, wind of the east, is the huge crags
                where you have your home. That is where Aeolus can do his
                swaggering, confining his rule to the closed walls of the prison
                of the winds.” ’

                These were his words, and before he had finished speaking,
                he was calming the swell, dispersing the banked clouds and
                bringing back the sun. Triton and the sea nymph Cymothoe
                heaved and strained as they pushed the ships off jagged rocks,
                while Neptune himself lifted them out of the sandbanks with
                his trident and opened up the vast Syrtes, restraining the sea as
                he skimmed along with his chariot wheels touching the crests of
                the waves. As when disorder arises among the people of a great
                city and the common mob runs riot, wild passion finds weapons
150         for men’s hands and torches and rocks start flying; at such a
                time if people chance to see a man who has some weight among
                them for his goodness and his services to the state, they fall
                silent, standing and listening with all their attention while his
                words command their passions and soothe their hearts – so did
                all the crashing of the sea fall silent and Father Neptune, looking
                out over the waves, drove the horses of his chariot beneath a
                clear sky and gave them rein to fly before the wind.

                Aeneas and his men were exhausted, and making what speed
                they could for the nearest land, they set course for the coast of
160         Libya. There is a place where a harbour is formed by an island
                blocking the mouth of a long sound. As the waves come in from
                the open sea and break on the sides of this island, they are divided
                into the deep inlets of the bay. Rock cliffs are everywhere. A
                great pinnacle threatens the sky on either side, and beneath all
                this the broad water lies still and safe. At the end of the bay
                there rises a backcloth of shimmering trees, a dark wood with
                quivering shadows, looming over the water, and there, at the
                foot of this scene, is a cave of hanging rocks, a home for the
                
nymphs, with fresh spring water inside it and seats in the virgin
                rock. Here there is no need of chains to moor the weary ships,
170         or of anchors with hooked teeth to hold them fast. This is where
                Aeneas put in with seven ships gathered from all the Trojan fleet,
                and great was their longing for the land as they disembarked and
                stepped at last on to the shore and threw their sea-wasted bodies
                down on the sand. First of all Achates struck a spark from the
                flint, caught it in some leaves, fed the flame by putting dry twigs
                round it and set the fire going with brushwood. Then weary as
                they were after all their labours, they laid out their corn, the gift
                of the goddess Ceres, all tainted with salt, and the goddess’s
                own implements and set themselves to scorch with flame this
                grain they had saved from the sea and to grind it on stone.

180         Meanwhile Aeneas climbed a rock to get a view over the
                whole breadth of the ocean and see if there was any trace of the
                storm-tossed Antheus or of the double-banked Trojan galleys,
                Capys perhaps, or Caicus’ armour high on the poop. There was
                not a ship to be seen, but he did see three stags wandering about
                the shore with all their herd behind them grazing the low ground
                in a long line. He stopped in his tracks and snatched his bow
190         and swift arrows from the trusty Achates. First he took down
                the three leaders with their high heads of branching antlers. The
                whole of the rest of the herd scattered into the leafy cover of the
                wood, but not before he succeeded in stretching seven huge
                carcasses on the ground, one for each of the ships. He then made
                for the harbour and gave them out to all his men. Last of all he
                shared out the wine the good Acestes with a hero’s generosity
                had poured into casks for them as they left the shores of Sicily.
                Then, as they mourned, he comforted them, saying: ‘My friends,
                this is not the first trouble we have known. We have suffered
200         worse before, and this too will pass. God will see to it. You have
                been to Scylla’s cave and heard the mad dogs howling in the
                depths of it. You have even survived rocks thrown by the
                Cyclops. So summon up your courage once again. This is no
                time for gloom or fear. The day will come, perhaps, when it will
                give you pleasure to remember even this. Whatever chance may
                bring, however many hardships we suffer, we are making for
                Latium, where the Fates show us our place of rest. There it is
                
the will of God that the kingdom of Troy shall rise again. Your
                task is to endure and save yourselves for better days.’ These
                were his words, but he was sick with all his cares. He showed
                them the face of hope and kept his misery deep in his heart.