Thebaid

Refreshed by the water, Adrastus asks Hypsipyle for her story (20-7). Hypsipyle demurs, touching on the tragedy of her past and urging them to move on, but the Argives insist (29-48). Hypsipyle finally agrees; much of Book 5 will be her narrative.

Hypsipyle is from Lemnos, a prosperous island on the Aegean which incurred the wrath of the gods—they did not properly worship Venus (49-60). The goddess of sexual desire transformed into a ferocious war goddess; accompanied by the Furies, she drove Lemnos’s men to war with the neighboring Thracians (61-80). After strange sun signs, a Lemnian woman named Polyxo seemed possessed by a Bacchic frenzy (85-103). She pointed out the suffering inflicted on women by the war and roused the others to slaughter their husbands on their return. One women killed her own infant son so they can swear an oath by blood (104-63).

Hypsipyle was paralyzed by fear when the men came home, bearing the promised gifts for the gods on their safe return. That night, Lemnos was shrouded in a fog. When the men dozed after the homecoming celebrations, the women got to work, “in each breast, a private Fury reigned” (202-3). Hypsipyle describes in graphic detail how the women killed their sons and husbands (206-35). She saw one women carrying the decapitated head of her father and thought of her own father, Thoas, asleep in their family home. She woke him and spirited him out of town as the slaughter continued (236-64).  

Bacchus (called Thyoneus here) appeared to them; he is Thoas’s father and Hypsipyle’s grandfather. He told them that he had tried to protect Lemnos, but the Fates and Jupiter said otherwise (“[Jupiter] has yielded His daughter [Venus] unspeakable privilege,” 277). He guided them to a boat, where Hypsipyle hid Thoas. She returned to the village where, in the clear light of day, the women mourned what they had done and resented Polyxo’s influence. Hypsipyle created a fake funeral pyre for her father, hoping the deception would go unnoticed. The lie believed, she was chosen to be their leader (313-25).

Suddenly the women noticed a boat approaching; maybe the Thracians, retaliating against Lemnos, or divine judgement, perhaps, for the women’s crimes (335-60). In reality the ship is the Argo, crewed by the hero Jason and his Argonauts (including Theseus, Orpheus, Heracles, other famous Greek heroes). The women awkwardly took up defensive positions, but Jupiter hit the boat with a supernatural storm—lightning revealed the truth of the sailors’ identities (361-419).

When the Argo finally limped into port, the women were in awe of its heroes (420-44). Venus and Juno, goddesses of sex and marriage, respectively, went to work. The women settled down with the Argonauts and began repopulating Lemnos. Hypsipyle herself was chosen by Jason, though she makes clear the relationship was not consensual. A year passed. She bore Jason twin sons, though she does not know what became of them (she reveals at this point that this all took place twenty years ago) (445-67). Finally, the weather seemed good for sailing, allowing the Argonauts to leave. Hypsipyle was heartbroken: “[…] Savage Jason whistled up / his comrades. Oh! How I wish he’d sailed straight past my shores / that day, a man whose heart has no room for his children, / for promises made!” (471-4).

With the men gone again, a rumor spread: Hypsipyle had not killed her father at all, as Thoas was now ruling a neighboring island. The criminal women resent that a non-criminal ruled them. Hypsipyle fled, but Bacchus did not help her; instead, she was enslaved by a band of pirates, which is how she ended up in her current situation (486-98).

Statius moves the camera back to the infant Opheltes, Hypsipyle’s ward. He has fallen asleep in a patch of grass where she left him (see lines 769-96, Book 4). A horrible snake, whom local farmers claim is sacred to Jupiter (511-2), is driven by Bacchus’s drought to seek water. Its thirsty writhing crushes and kills Opheltes. “What God, little one,” Statius wonders, “burdened you with a fate, a doom so / grand? … Was it in order that, by your death, you’d forever / be sacred to all Greek peoples and worthy of such a tomb?” (534-7). Hypsipyle hears his dying wail and panics. The Argives attack the snake; Hippomedon makes a good attempt, but Capaneus slays it (541-78). The woodland gods mourn the snake, but none more so than Jupiter, who calls for his weapons to avenge it, but spares the impious Capaneus for later (579-87).

Hypsipyle finds the corpse of Opheltes; the infant is horribly mangled. Hypsipyle tells him that she had thought of him as a proxy son in her slavery, her sole solace. At first she wonders what god allowed this to happen, then shifts the blame to herself; “I … exposed you to fate. What madness made off with my mind? / How was I so forgetful … While I recounted my country’s fate and led the talk round / my own renown … I paid Lemnos the crime I owed” (620-8). She begs the Argives to kill her.

Opheltes’ father, the priest Lycurgus, was just receiving a poor omen from a sacrifice—he was already fated to be an early casualty of the war, and so was avoiding the Argives—when Hypsipyle returned to the household (638-49). Opheltes’s mother mourns; Lycurgus is ready to kill Hypsipyle for her negligence, but the Argives stop him. They are not united in protecting her to the point of conflict, though; Adrastus and Amphiaraus are loathe to fight a priest. The fiery Tydeus berates them: “What? Will you dare slay the woman who guided and saved / Inachian cohorts? … You cowards!” (672-6). The scene devolves into chaos. Miraculously, Bacchus brings forth Hypsipyle’s twins by Jason from Lemnos, who rescue and embrace her (690-730).

Devout Amphiaraus shares that Apollo knows “this sorrow at Argive hands has long been / ordained—how unwavering runs the course of destiny!” (733-5). He urges that the infant prince of Nemea be honored, and hopes Apollo will bring even more delays like this to the inevitable war (743-5).

Once again, Rumor sweeps the countryside, this time to alert the Greeks that the Argives are holding a funeral for baby Opheltes (also called Archemorus) and funeral games will follow. The child’s family and the palace mourns (5-50). Adrastus offers words of comfort, but “the father was no more soothed by these well-meant remarks / than the vicious, raging Ionian [Jupiter] heeds the clamorous vows / of sailors at sea” (51-3). The men cut down trees to construct a funeral bier and decorate it with spoils—treatment more befitting an adult than an infant, but Statius points out that it soothes the mourners (54-83). Elsewhere, others build a bier for the killer snake, too, as it was sacred to the gods. They fell an old and sacred forest for the wood—“here was sorrow indeed— / deforestation: wild creatures fled” (96-7).

They build two altars—one for underworld gods, one for the Olympians—and begin the funeral procession for Opheltes. His mother laments in a lengthy monologue, suggesting that innate Lemnian madness meant Hypsipyle should have never been trusted. She reveals her jealousy that Opheltes recognized Hypsipyle as his mother more than her and insists they kill Hypsipyle as a funeral offering, resenting seeing her mourn too. She collapses (138-84). Lycurgus tosses symbols of his kingship and sacred priestly duties on the pyre, which burns hordes of offered wealth (193-212).

Nine days later, a stone temple has been built to honor Opheltes (238-43). At Rumor’s behest, the people gather to see athletes compete in commemorative funeral games. After the opening ceremonies—a sacrifice and a parade of carvings of important figures in (mythological) history (e.g. Heracles, Tantalus, Io)—the games begin (265-90). They will consist of of a chariot race (296-550); a foot race (550-645); a discus throw (646-728); a boxing match (729-825); a wrestling match (826-910); a sword fight (911-923); and an archery exhibition (924-33).

First up is the chariot race. Statius invokes Apollo to help him name the drivers and their steeds (296-300). Polynices drives a loaner horse from Adrastus, the fiery red Arion, who was sired by Neptune himself (301-25). Amphiraus and his horses are garbed in white (326-31). Admetus drives a dapple team, the progeny of centaurs (332-9). Hypsipyle’s twins, Thoas and Euneos, each have their own chariot, as do Chromis and Hippodamus (340-500). On Mount Parnassus, Apollo is playing a song his lyre for the Muses when he notices two of his favorites in the race: Admetus and Amphiaraus, who is doomed to die soon (355-83). He speeds down to earth.

With horses and drivers anxious at the starting line, the trumpet sounds, and they’re off. The red horse Arion is in the lead, but frantic, as he fears Polynices: “Inachidae thought their cheers had sparked him, but no, it was / the charioteer he fled, the charioteer he in wild rage put at risk” (428-30). In second is Amphiaraus, then Admetus, then Hypsipyle’s twins, then Chromis and Hippodamus. In the second lap, Polynices, Amphiaraus, and Admetus jostle for the lead (440-53). The third lap sees the competition near warlike ferocity; by the fourth, the horses are tiring (454-73). At this point Fortune crashes Thoas and Chromis destroys Hippodamus’s chariot, but he pulls up his man-eating Thracian horses before they devour Hippodamus, disqualifying himself (474-90). Apollo sees his chance to give Amphiaraus the win. He creates a snake-haired phantom on the track which spooks Arion, pitching Polynices out of the chariot (491-26). Arion, with no driver, crosses the finish line first, but Amphiaraus wins the race, with Admetus in second. Prizes are distributed (518-53).

Next is the foot race. The most famous competitor is one of the Seven, the Arcadian Parthenopaeus, the lovely son of the huntress Atalanta whom we first met in Book 4, lines 246-343. He oils his beautiful body in preparation for the race and, like his mother, scorns his male admirers (565-82). Another competitor, Idas, is also noted for his youthful beauty (583-7). After warm-ups, the race begins. Parthenopaeus easily outstrips the others, with Idas hot on his heels (587-606). But just as Partheopaeus is about to cross the finish line, Idas grabs his long streaming hair and steals the victory (607-17). The Arcadians in the crowd are outraged; Parthenopaeus mourns. Adrastus arranges a second race between the two to settle things once and for all. After invoking his patron goddess Diana, Parthenopaeus easily cinches the win (626-45).

Next is the discus throw. Another of the Seven, Hippomedon, quickly clears the field by lifting an impossibly huge discus, scaring off the competition. Only Phlegyas and Menestheus even feel they have a chance (653-67). Phlegyas has an impressive practice throw, but Fortune turns on him and makes him fumble his real one (“How sweet she finds it to crush / immoderate hopes! and what can a man rightly do / against Gods?” Statius asks, 691-3). Menestheus has better luck on his go (698-703), but Hippomedon completely surpasses him. Again, prizes are awarded (704-28).

Next is boxing. The massive Capaneus puts out a threatening call for an opponent, which is answered by the young Alcidamus, who was trained by the hero Pollux (729-46). Capaneus mocks him for his apparent weakness. In the course of their fight, it becomes clear that Capaneus is physically stronger, but wild and unruly, while Alcidamus is impeccably trained (760-79). He scores a massive hit, outraging Capaneus (780-95). The fight heats up until finally Alcidamus beats Capaneus down—Adrastus quickly urges Tydeus and Hippomedon to restrain Capaneus, who has briefly gone mad with anger (802-22). Tydeus and Agylleus box next; anachronistically, their bout feels more Roman than Greek. Tydeus has longevity, while his opponent lacks stamina, and he is nimbler. Tydeus wins (826-910).

The last two events are less successful. The sword fight event is cancelled, as the men should save their rage for war (911-23). Finally, an archery competition meant to showcase Adrastus’s skill results in yet another ill omen. The arrow he fires hits its target—an ash tree—and ricochets back to its own quiver. Everyone wrongly interprets the omen: its true meaning is that civil war returns destruction to the lord who wages it (941-46).