Continuing Part 1, this argues that related Iliad 23 passages need to be read in the broader context of Cretan warfare identity, thereby uncovering a rich node of cultural interactions with Homer and, regarding Achilles’ sacrifice in Iliad 23, the possibility of an apotropaic function in the process of heroisation, beyond the usual focus on revenge. All under the Cretan summer.
In Part 1, we established a link between the ritual in the Homeric text and the archaeology at Eleutherna. But we can actually gain more useful insights about Achilles’ ritual by analysing the broader links to Crete in that passage. To these ends, in Part 2 I will analyse a nearby passage in Iliad 23, namely Meriones’ contribution to the construction of Patroclus’ pyre, that demonstrates remarkable Cretan links. I will argue that this link supports the reading that heroisation and memorialisation, which seems prominent in the similar Eleutherna Funerary Pyre ΛΛ/90–91, underlie Achilles’ ritualistic demonstration of grief. Reciprocally, by analysing Achilles’ funerary sacrifice and Meriones’ help in constructing the funerary pyre, we can also extrapolate hints about Cretan warfare identity. I will challenge the typical reading that Crete’s mountainous territory underlies Meriones construction scene, which relies on environmental determinism, and argue that it needs to be read in and belongs to a much broader repertoire of identities defining Cretan warfare. This rich repertoire helps us both to reinterpret Achilles’ ritual in Iliad 23 and, more broadly, understand why Homer uses Crete as a locus. This will hopefully demonstrate further the benefits of reading interdisciplinarily — this time between literature and history, complementing the literature and archaeology earlier.
Part 4: All that “Mountainous”? A nearby passage in Iliad 23 with complementary Cretan resonances and what it tells us about Homeric and Cretan culture
So far, the links between Achilles’ slaughtering of the twelve Trojan youths and Crete have been confined to the remarkable similarities in the ritual of human sacrifice. This, however, may not be enough to corroborate immediately direct influence between text and material culture. But what gives the final push to suggest there is a very close link in the broader funeral rituals lies in an earlier passage of Iliad 23 that serves as important context to the actual funeral: the building of the funeral pyre (Il. 23.110–124). It is this description, where Homer’s depicts the Cretans collecting wood and the skills therein implied, which resonates with other descriptions of warfare that are uniquely reserved for Crete.
What I aim to show, therefore, is not that Crete’s warfare identity relies on environmental determinism, as many scholars have argued in the past, but rather on a much broader set of Cretan idiosyncrasies that need to be considered simultaneously to understand the full implications of this passage and Achilles’ ritual of human sacrifice. Like taking Achilles’ over-simplistic “anger” as the motive behind the sacrifice, Crete is not simply mountainous and just another example in a reductive trend of environmental determinism — we need to give back its voice and appreciate its many unique customs.
Let us look at this earlier passage. Just before this, Achilles has talked to the ghost of Patroclus during the night, and, amazed at his departure, laments over the corpse. With dawn’s rise, at Agamemnon’s behest, the Cretan Meriones goes to fetch wood to prepare the funerary pyre:
ὣς φάτο, τοῖσι δὲ πᾶσιν ὑφ᾽ ἵμερον ὦρσε γόοιο:
μυρομένοισι δὲ τοῖσι φάνη ῥοδοδάκτυλος Ἠὼς
ἀμφὶ νέκυν ἐλεεινόν. ἀτὰρ κρείων Ἀγαμέμνων 110
οὐρῆάς τ᾽ ὄτρυνε καὶ ἀνέρας ἀξέμεν ὕλην
πάντοθεν ἐκ κλισιῶν: ἐπὶ δ᾽ ἀνὴρ ἐσθλὸς ὀρώρει
Μηριόνης θεράπων ἀγαπήνορος Ἰδομενῆος.
οἳ δ᾽ ἴσαν ὑλοτόμους πελέκεας ἐν χερσὶν ἔχοντες
σειράς τ᾽ εὐπλέκτους: πρὸ δ᾽ ἄρ᾽ οὐρῆες κίον αὐτῶν. 115
πολλὰ δ᾽ ἄναντα κάταντα πάραντά τε δόχμιά τ᾽ ἦλθον:
ἀλλ᾽ ὅτε δὴ κνημοὺς προσέβαν πολυπίδακος Ἴδης,
αὐτίκ᾽ ἄρα δρῦς ὑψικόμους ταναήκεϊ χαλκῷ (cf. Meriones+Idomeneus sp.)
τάμνον ἐπειγόμενοι: ταὶ δὲ μεγάλα κτυπέουσαι
πῖπτον: τὰς μὲν ἔπειτα διαπλήσσοντες Ἀχαιοὶ 120
ἔκδεον ἡμιόνων: ταὶ δὲ χθόνα ποσσὶ δατεῦντο
ἐλδόμεναι πεδίοιο διὰ ῥωπήϊα πυκνά.
πάντες δ᾽ ὑλοτόμοι φιτροὺς φέρον: ὡς γὰρ ἀνώγει
Μηριόνης θεράπων ἀγαπήνορος Ἰδομενῆος.
κὰδ δ᾽ ἄρ᾽ ἐπ᾽ ἀκτῆς βάλλον ἐπισχερώ, ἔνθ᾽ ἄρ᾽ Ἀχιλλεὺς 125
φράσσατο Πατρόκλῳ μέγα ἠρίον ἠδὲ οἷ αὐτῷ.So Achilles spoke, and he stirred a longing to grieve further in everyone:
And Rosy-fingered Dawn appeared —
but they were still weeping around the pitiful body. Then lord Agamemnon
sent mules and men to bring wood from huts from all around.
And the glorious man Meriones incited them on,
The attendant of virtue-loving/manly Idomeneus.
And they went on, carrying axes to cut wood in their hands
And well-crafted rope: and their mules walked ahead.
They went on, often going up, down, sideways, crossing their own paths:
But when at last they arrived at the foothills of many-springed Ida,
Immediately setting off to work, they cut the towering trees
with long-edged bronze spear: they fell towering trees, which crashed down.
Then the Achaeans, splitting the trees through,
hung and fastened them behind their mules: their hooves divided the earth
eager to reach the plain through the compact brushes.
And all the woodcutters carried logs: for so ordered
Meriones the attendant of virtue-loving/manly Idomeneus.
And they threw down these logs in a row by the shore, and there Achilles
had in mind a huge burial mound for Patroclus and himself.
It is in this activity of collecting the wood for the funerary pyre that we get first a marked link to Cretan customs. It serves as a contextual, ritualistic backdrop to Achilles’ sacrifice of the Trojan youths. Although it demonstrates an affinity to customs shaped by mountains, it is both reductive and other details emerge that are uniquely associated with Cretans elsewhere in Greek literature. This description rather engages in and reveals a much broader network of customs and military identities that are uniquely Cretan. To demonstrate this, I will analyse this passage in terms of Achilles’ sacrifice of the twelve Trojan youths, and note how this supports the Cretan link. With this established, I will test the explanatory mechanism of Crete’s environmental determinism as the determining factor for its warfare identity. Showing that it is not exclusive, I will then place it into the context of other descriptions of Cretan warfare identity. This will show ultimately that it correlates to a much broader spectrum of Cretan customs ranging from archery and piracy to mercenaries, cowardice, and the total lack of war replaced with crafts and trading. It is Homer’s engagement in this broader tradition that made me want to write this article and that reflects the ambivalence of Crete today.
First to note is the very nature of this passage. In going into the technical descriptions of building, collecting, cutting, loading, and transporting wood, it is rather un-Homeric, at least un-Iliadic: it is one of such few descriptions in Iliad. Why include it? Why did Homer deliberately choose to include it at the expense of other information and consistency in the immediate narration?
One literary explanation is that it sets us up to interpret Achilles’ sacrifice through a specifically Cretan lens. First, although Agamemnon invokes and “sends” (ὄτρυνε) such a task, Homer notes that Meriones the Cretan is the leader and thereby “incites them on” (ὀρώρει, 112–3). Meriones does not appear all that often in the Iliad: his chances for glory are usually subsumed by Idomeneus. But the reference here is telling: he stands alone and leads the Achaeans. Why is he chosen? What skill does he has that others don’t? Homer gives no explanation. His epithet here, however, is telling. Elsewhere, Meriones engages in activities relating to war: his first epithet defines him as a “servant of Enyalius”, the god of war (2.651). Here, he is the simple ἐσθλὸς, “honourable”, a standard epithet. What is interesting is the word before this: he is called an ἀνὴρ ἐσθλὸς, a noble “man”. Rather than being a furious god-like creature, he acquires a different nature to engage in this activity. Heroes rarely become men, indeed often revile it. A “good man” is therefore often rare: this direct combination of “man” with ἐσθλὸς occurs just four other times in the Iliad (4.456 Echepolos killed by Antilochus, 6.488 Hector arguing that neither good nor bad man can escape fate, 16.599 Glaucus killing wealthy Bathycles, 19.121 Hera using the birth of Eurystheus as a pretence for Heracles not to rule Argos). Each occurrence is used to juxtapose this simple “goodly fighter” against more skilled warriors; in other words, for a good man to exist there necessarily must be a broader group of people present for comparison — they are dependents (especially in Echepolos’ case, 4.456). Likewise, the phrase is used by Hera, Hector, and the Trojans against Glaucus as justification for an activity (usually attacking) — it acts as a moral trigger to catalyse a unique purpose. This suggests that the use of “man” here purposefully links Meriones, and his nature as a Cretan, with his woodcutting enterprise. His nature as a “man”, instead of a traditional hero and more like an attendant, and his Cretan nature are specifically suited for this activity of collecting the wood. This is brought out by the fact that ἐσθλὸς could hold the connotation of “skilled” or “expedient” of qualities.
Thus, this combination of “skilled man” acts as a trigger phrase — it alerts us to the fact that this person is especially fit for this ensuing function. The fact that we have a Cretan specialising in this activity is fundamental to understanding the surrounding scenes. In terms of narratology, Homer separates this section from the surrounding text by beginning and ending it with a ring composition with Meriones’ name and his line-long epithet: “the attendant of virtue-loving/manly Idomeneus”. This creates a well-defined boundary whereby all actions are attributed to Meriones’ skill. In this light, Cretan warriors build the physical foundations, literal and metaphorical, of the funeral pyre for Achilles’ ritual, which we discussed above appears equally Cretan. The Cretan nature of both passages are further linked because we have three more references to Crete in this passage. First, the reference to Meriones, although not per se, recalls Crete. Second, Homer plays with the duality of Mt Ida (117) in this passage: while here it refers to the Lycian Ida near Troy, there is, of course, the other Mt Ida in Crete where Zeus was born, and which, although Homer does not mention it directly, his contemporary Hesiod mentions in relation to the nearby town Lyctos (Theogony 477). Indirectly, knowledge of the Cretan Ida might be suggested in the etymology of Idomeneus’ name (ida + menos, i.e. strength of Ida; although it has also been linked with “seeing”). Moreover, in the Iliad Zeus (born on Cretan Ida) also has a strong connection with the Trojan Ida: he often sits there contemplating (3.276, 3.320, 7.202 etc). Finally, the choice of weapons are also telling. The men use ταναήκεϊ χαλκῷ, “bronze long-edged spears”, which is also Meriones’ choice of weapon and armour in his return to the camp to Idomeneus (“χάλκεον ἔγχος” 13.296, 305; although it is also used of the weapon that kills Hector in 7.76 and 24.753) and is characteristically attributed to Cretans in other literature (as we shall see below, esp. The Song of the Cretan Hybrias). Idomeneus is first characterised in the Catalogue of Ships as a “renowned spearman” (2.650). Moreover, the “axes” to cut wood (ὑλοτόμους πελέκεας) are further mentioned at 23.851, 856, 882 in relation to the ten axes as prizes for the archery contest — which Meriones himself wins. Axes have a strong tradition in Minoan Crete (in the etymology of Labyrinth is “double axe”, labros). These weapons are intimately associated with Meriones’ Cretan ethnicity. Do these choices justify Meriones’ presence here, or do they rather serve a specific purpose that fits with Meriones’ characterisation?
Therefore, this unusual and at first glance seemingly unnecessary digression productively finetunes us to the appropriate cultural mindset for Achilles’ sacrifice. This strengthens the links to Cretan funerary customs in both sections, supported by the archaeology at Eleutherna. This has prompted scholars like Professor Nikolaos Stampolidis, the director at Eleutherna and director of the Museum of Cycladic art in Athens, to argue that this ritual of collecting wood is a specifically Cretan practice.
We now have established the Cretan link both in this passage and how it prepares us for Achilles’ ritualistic sacrifice. The question to ask now is, why specifically is Meriones chosen to complete this task of collecting wood for the pyre? In Richardson’s commentary, Meriones’ participation is explained as being for “no very obvious reason”, although “he is a minor but efficient hero, and as a therapon he is suitable for a practical but not very heroic operation”(180, 1993). Is this explanation sufficient, or is it a bit restrictive and silences Meriones’ characterisation? Instead, taking Meriones’ insertion here as a deliberate device to enhance Homer’s theme, I will explore what specifically about his Cretan nature makes him well-suited and reciprocally what this passage tells us about Cretan culture. I will do this by comparing how this compares with other emic and etic representations of Crete in Greek literature. This leads up to questioning whether these support the standard way (ancient and often modern) of explaining this reason?
Should we be looking for Meriones’ characterisation or his link to Crete as the explanation? Meriones might be chosen because of his characterisation in the Iliad — yet this is often lacking, usually buttressed by Idomeneus’ characterisation. As we have seen above, however, he is often described in relation to ancient Crete. What is particular about Cretan warfare that makes it well-suited for the process of collecting wood? Here, the question is being asked practically and historically — we have already seen as an analytical tool how Crete’s presence prepares us for reading Achilles’ ritual. Is it the people, the history, the landscape?
If we want to ensure a valid, contemporary interpretation (as far as possible to ancient scholars’ conceptions), we must turn to the scholia on the Iliad. Luckily, we hit the jackpot. The often lacking scholia here says: “Μηριόνης: Κρήτη γάρ όρεινή καί δενδροφόρος” (Scholia Vetera in Iliadem V 387, l.113). In other words, it explains that Homer chose Meriones for this task because his homeland Crete is “mountainous” and “full of trees”. They are linked because mountain landscapes are necessary for building a funeral pyre since they abound in woods. By this logic, Crete is well suited because it has many mountains and its people and customs are oriented towards them.
An ancient audience, therefore, conceptualised this choice through the environmental determinism argument. It seems to make sense — this emphasis on Crete as mountainous can be seen in this very passage. First, they go to Mount Ida. Its surrounding descriptions emphasise its mountainous nature: it has the epithet “with many springs” (πολυπίδακος), which suggests the many crags, rocks, and fissures; the party has to walk through thick bramble and “brush” (διὰ ῥωπήϊα πυκνά) to get back to the plain. The occurrence of “Ida” here might even acquire its full etymological meaning, which stresses its mountainous nature. As evident in Iliad 2.281, Ida means “wooded hill”. Furthermore, the link to Crete is strengthened because the name “Ida” is related to the Minoan mother goddess of nature or Mt. Ida, i-da-ma-te, from Crete in Linear A tablets (KY Za 2, AR Zf 1, AR Zf 2). This link is brought out in Iliad 14.283, where Mt Ida is personified as the “mother of beasts”: Ἴδην δ’ ἱκέσθην πολυπίδακα, μητέρα θηρῶν. Most telling, the fact that they have to use mules (ἡμιόνων) as opposed to horses is not solely because they are beasts of burden suited to carry wood, but also because they are best suited to traverse mountainous terrain. This is nicely brought out in their initial description as οὐρῆες (115, which literally means “the guard” but here means mules as can be deduced from the use of ἡμιόνων later on, as the scholia also pick up), that walk in front to help the men find their tracks.
On the other hand, opposed to the earlier appellation “Achaeans”, the men are at one point identified solely through their ability to chop wood: “all the woodcutters carried logs” (πάντες δ᾽ ὑλοτόμοι φιτροὺς φέρον). There is a question of groupings: whether this means all the men who went were “wood-cutters” or just those who had cut the trees is uncertain. Whatever it is, these men are certainly skilled in mountainous activities of carrying logs between them. In terms of the language, given that the passage contains much technical language used for climbing up a tough mountain (ἄναντα κάταντα πάραντά τε δόχμιά), emphasised through the a-alliteration, four three-syllable consecutive words, constant trochaic metrical style, rhyming scheme, and the many forms of opposing movement. In general, when Homer describes “woodcutters” (δρυτόμος) or “wood” or “tree” (δρῦς) in similes, he almost always sets them in mountains. It suggests that Meriones excels in these skills specifically linked to mountain activities.
This emphasis on mountainous terrain as defining (or narrowing down?) Cretan military identity, and the emphasis on environmental determinism, is also corroborated by other (later) Greek literature. The Cretan Clinias in Plato’s Laws gives the clearest etic iteration of this law (625c-626b). Comparing Crete to Thessaly, he argues that since Crete “is not a level country” and “rugged”, they are “obliged” (ἀναγκαῖον) to avoid typical warfare techniques like “heavy equipment”. Instead, they are mostly “runners” and focus on physical exercise. It is this turn away from traditional heavy-armed hoplite warfare prevalent in the rest of Greece, and rather the emphasis on physical exercise and their practical use in their hilly environment that makes them suited for scavenging for wood on Mt. Ida. Likewise, Xenophon notes in his Anabasis that Cretans were “exceedingly useful” in wielding arrows (4.2.27–8). The reason for this, Xenophon claims, is that they were agile with light armour. This all stems from a concessive clause at the beginning which presupposes that Cretans were typically suited for the mountains: “There were times, indeed, when the barbarians caused a great deal of trouble even to the troops who had climbed to a higher position”. The concessive here stresses the tendency for Cretans to climb to higher places and their power there, since the Persians’ ability to attack them surprises Xenophon. Cretans are best skilled in high places — good for attacking, agility, and escaping. They are chosen, therefore, because they have skills in mountains and its terrain, and cutting the abundant wood (like for arrows) there to make their weapons.
Plato’s use of Thessaly is a good comparison — indeed modern scholars have also pointed this out (eg. Susan Alcock in From Minoan Farmers to Roman Traders: Sidelights on the Economy of Ancient Crete). But there is a logical fallacy in Plato’s comparison. Thessaly is not the only mountainous region in Greece. Rather, Plato probably chooses Thessaly precisely because it fits his argument, since it excels in warfare. Other mountainous regions did not develop skills relevant to mountain warfare. The best counter-example against this is the Peloponnese. Although it is full of mountains, the Peloponnese and Sparta are the heartland of hoplite warfare using “heavy equipment”, not archery or “light armour for running”. Moreover, in Homer wood-cutting is not always associated with mountainous places: when Odysseus builds his raft with Calypso he uses wood from the “borders” of the island, with no explicit mention of mountains (νήσου ἐπ᾽ ἐσχατιῆς, Od. 5.238–40). There are still “lofty” trees by the Cyclop’s cave by the sea (Od. 9.186). Mountainous terrain, skills outside traditional hoplite warfare, and wood-cutting are not necessarily synonymous or exclusive. This is not to deny the connection between mountains and wood-cutting; it is challenging the idea that certain military identities associated with the Cretans like arrow-fighting as opposed to hoplite fighting and running are restrained to mountainous terrains. Is this military warfare solely limited to Crete’s mountainous warfare?
Moreover, the Iliad passage of the wood-cutting demonstrates characteristics beyond mountains that map onto other descriptions of Cretan warfare identity in literature. This suggests that the customs behind this passage belong to a broader repertoire of Cretan characterisations that are linked to mountains, environmental determinism, and wood-cutting, but not subsumed by it — they co-exist and complement each other. There is much more in the passage that needs to be appreciated simultaneously to understand it fully. This can be best seen in the reference here to the “mules”. Although potentially just included as a practical reality for transporting lumber, in conjunction with the other objects mentioned that are linked with Meriones and Crete, they may express another interesting association with Meriones that brings out his other purposes. When dragging away Patroclus’ corpse from the fray, Meriones and Menelaos are compared to mules “bringing down a tree-trunk from the mountain along a rocky path” (17.742–6). Apart from the remarkable similarities in content, the fact that Meriones has been associated in both cases with a mule and Patroclus’ death might point to Meriones’ expertise in caring for a fallen warrior and the ensuing ritual. This focus on ritual opens up more possibilities for Cretan warfare identity.
What do the Cretans emically have to say about themselves in this regard? A brilliant drinking song from the 6th century BCE that celebrates Cretan war identity crops up in Athenaeus (15.695f-696a): the Song of the Cretan Hybrias. The name of the composer, “Hybrias”, already paints a vivid personality of a Cretan warrior: he is “proud” and boasts about it, striving to acquire “more than his lot”. Indeed, his concluding sentence perfectly encapsulates his superseding pride: to those who do not take up the sword or spear bravely, let them call him “master and great king” — relegating them to slave status and raising himself to the status beyond any Greek ruler: to the Persian king. Cretan warfare, therefore, relies more on individual enterprise than state-direction: there is a sense of individuality and pride in completing things by oneself. While this suggests Cretans’ pride and arrogance, as Idomeneus does during his aristeia in his harsh taunt to Deiphobus (Il. 13.446–54, it also suggests that in going ideologically beyond their lot, they perhaps engage in activities beyond the conventional rules of heroism. This may be brought out by Idomeneus’ unusual epithet ἀγαπήνορος: although it could be read simply as “virtue-loving” (cf. ἠνορέην ἀγαπῶν), it could also express the connotation of being excessively enamoured with “manly militaristic virtue” at the expense of other (more compassionate, humble) emotions, like Hybrias. Perhaps this is the broader framework that we should be reading this unusual description of wood-cutting in. The activity is uncommon — so relegate it to a nation renowned for atypical activities.
This last point is brought out more clearly in other elements in this passage. The focus on alternative skills linked to warfare is clear in Hybrias’ rare statement that warfare and agriculture are synonymous and complementary: “with this equipment (spear and sword), I plough,…harvest the grain”. His weapons cultivate the land. This can be read as meaning that his skills in war enhance those for farming in general. But the link between the two can also be read more closely: the resources and slaves he wins in war do his farming. Warfare is not the primary aim, but co-exists and is interchangeable with farming. This malleability of typical warfare identities is reflected in the Iliad with the “long-edged bronze” spear used by Meriones (ταναήκεϊ χαλκῷ). In the Iliad, it always describes the spear that will kill Hector (7.76, 24.753). But here, the epithet gains a new meaning and draws out that the men’s spears are used for a much more practical use. The spears are “long-edged”, not to kill, but so that they saw the wood effectively. This change in functions of usual tools is especially foregrounded here because Homer refrains from repeating the axe “suitable for cutting-wood” that the men were carrying before. Therefore, since Meriones is unusual in specialising in warfare from a practical everyday approach (instead of direct war training), and because the preparation of the funerary pyre is a unique task, his incongruity perfectly fulfils the skills for it. We often do not hear about this equal valorisation or pride in both warfare and other practical skills, among other Greeks.
This stress on practical skills alongside the military is also stressed in etic literature, especially Ephorus’ description of Cretan children’s upbringing (FGrHist 70 F 149 apud Strabo 10.4.17). This further foregrounds archery and, resonating with the Iliad passage, wood-work. Ephorus stresses that Cretans were “accustomed to war and work from boyhood on”. Immediately we notice the duality between “war” and “work” — gaining practical skills is as intrinsic a quality for the Cretans. This underlying message is played out nicely in the passage. First, Ephorus suggests their warfare skills are derived from physical training. Apart from gaining military prowess through resisting the general “heat and cold” and “march over rough ground”, they train for actual “battles” by being taught to think nothing of the blows they received in the “gymnasia”. The function of gymnasia was to enhance general physical exercise, not specifically militaristic. Moreover, Cretan children learn not just warfare through practical training, but also the rituals surrounding it. They learn the artistic war-dance, the “high-pitched Cretan rhythms”, and more importantly “archery”. Perhaps this makes them especially suited for Patroclus’ funerary ritual. Nevertheless, many of these practical activities complement rituals and functions outside the militaristic sphere.
Ephorus’ reference to archery is interesting and may provide another link to explain why Meriones was chosen for the wood-cutting. The manufacturing of archery implies skill in wood-working and carpentry. The Cretans are diachronically renowned for archery as their style of fighting. As Xenophon’s Anabasis (4.2.27–8) stresses, the Cretans fighters carried nothing “except bows and slings”. This use of arrows also highlights their values: they attack from afar, do not stand their ground, and attack from great distances. While this might suggest cowardice, it may also underline a more practical and cunning style of warfare, as the Song of Hybrias stresses. Scholars tend to explain this insistence on archery as both reflective of the landscape of Crete and as a low-class demographic engaging in the armies (since hoplite armour was reserved for the wealthier of society). Likewise, in Sophocles’ Hercules Furens, Hercules is called a coward because of his archery skills. But instead of reading them as cowardice, perhaps we could read behind it a positive reality. It might not be a lack of material wealth or environmental determinism, but a conscious decision to specialise in that material. This might derive from the wide trade contacts of Crete, especially with Egypt and the Near East (as we saw in Odysseus’ lying tales in Part 1), which was renowned for its archery. In this light, the Cretans might specialise in woodworking in relation to warfare.
Finally, this aspect of warriors as practical skilled men is tied intimately with being mercenaries. All this manufacturing and woodwork presumes some skill in trading and production of specialised goods. Although he has many prejudices against many people, Polybius records that the Cretans consider profit gained in any way as “most honourable” (11.46–7). Although this interpretation appears in mostly later sources, it might have belonged to a much older time. This focus on greed and acquisitiveness is tied to the fact that the Cretans are “irresistible” in everything that “involves tricks and separate action”. Their skill lies beyond traditional battlefield modes of fighting, and elsewhere in trading and other skills. Indeed, perhaps the whole trade of military warfare in Crete was a secondary product of a broader primary focus on trade, mercenary warfare, and the like.
All these characterisations of the Cretans, ranging from specialism in physical warfare, archery, and skill in the woodwork to engagement in trade, mercenary activities and love of profit, suggest that Cretans might equally be skilled craftsmen alongside warriors — if not more so. And this is perhaps the context or background to read Meriones’ choice for engaging in this wood-cutting scene, unique in the Iliad. The Cretans are renowned for engaging in activities beyond warfare. Consequently, they are perfectly suited, both as a literary tool and practical reality, in skills that are not often attributed to other Greek fighters. This unusualness is what makes Crete such a rich locus or lens through which to analyse typical scenes in literature in a fresh light.
All of this lies in the context of perhaps the most famous document to come from Crete, which surprisingly contains almost no references to warfare at all: the Gortyn Law Code. This is a tension that challenges the Cretan’s (or Plato’s) statement that all laws in Crete were made “with an eye to war” (Laws 625d-626b). Although there are specific reasons for this relating to codification and innovation, it is an important emic view to bear in mind. It is not a society solely dominated by warfare, but oriented towards a much wider set of skills that are ultimately derived from practical, everyday activities.
Warfare may not have been the modus operandi in Crete — but, just like their island status, it is a unique locus for challenging and reinterpreting Greek customs.
Conclusion: Moving from a Homeric conundrum to a Cretan opportunity — the fundamental benefits of interdisciplinary studies in the Classics
This focus on Crete’s peculiarity regarding warfare is continued in later literature. Herodotus famously mentions that when the Greeks seek support before Thermopylae (going to Argos, Gelon in Sicily, Corcyra), the Cretans downright refuse to aid them against the Persians (indeed neo-Trojans, as Herodotus often paints them).
The reason they give (7.169–171) aptly captures a useful way of thinking about Crete’s unique warfare identity.
When the Greeks asked the Cretans to help (presumably because they were a powerful nation), the Pythian oracle commanded them not to help the Greeks. This is because the Greeks had not helped the original Cretans avenge the death of Minos in Sicily, even though later Cretans helped in the Trojan War. Herodotus then goes into a lengthy digression about the ethnicities of the Greeks over time, meandering between changing customs and people. Interestingly, he claims that the Cretans in the Trojan War, led by Meriones and Idomeneus, were actually from a second wave of settlers in Crete (after the first “true” Cretans settled in Iapygia on the heel of Italy), who were mostly Greek. Maybe the Cretans aren’t so Cretan after all.
But the Cretans in Crete are made up of many different nationalities. Now, the Pythian oracle is asking the third wave of Greek-Cretans to neglect the Greeks, who were ironically their ancestors. It’s a complicated story accentuating the complexities of population movement, cultural change, kinship and ancestry, and the turn from islanders to mainlanders — and that’s precisely what is interesting. It is this constant mixing of different cultures and cross-cultural ties that makes Crete a land rich with ambivalences and contradictions, a locus to challenge old traditions and reinterpret them through a new lens. And perhaps Homer tapped into this as well. Whether it be through one-line issues or wider interdisciplinary studies, it is a rich locus of contradictions that gives new and unique perspectives for old problems.
Crete has always been an outsider.
And that’s precisely what makes it such a useful analytical tool to discuss its people and the world beyond its “hundred cities”.
This is for the “Lost World of Ancient Crete” summer school students and staff, especially to Victoria, Melina, Artemis, Zacharoula, and Costas for lecturing on the sites we visited relevant to this! Thank you for making it such a stimulating experience and for inspiring me to write this — this definitely could not be done without you. On that note, I enthusiastically recommend everyone to apply for this memorable summer school under the sun of Rethymno!
My lecturer at the Crete summer school, Dr Melina Tamiolaki, is currently writing a paper about the neutrality of Crete during the Persian Wars — I eagerly look forward to reading it!
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