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King Anios calls upon Menelaus to begin the contest, announcing him to the crowd – although, you use the word “begin” generously here. Menelaus clearly has spent no time at all in the development of his poetry, probably thinking it beneath him. He mutters some half-hearted lines about “the pure thrills of combat”, but frankly speaking, the rhymes are childish and ill-formed, even to your uneducated ear. He quickly loses the attention of the crowd, the faces of the audience sagging into bored frowns. It’s not long before you hear catcalls from the rear-benches:
“Tell us Menelaus – was it your poetry that caused Helen to flee Sparta?”
Menelaus flinches at the remark – you expect him to tear through the crowd to throttle the heckler, but King Anios seems to recognize the danger just as you do. He quickly strides back on stage to escort Menelaus from view, before violence can mar Apollo’s celebration.
The next few contestants do serviceable work – Ajax, plucking at his lyre half-heartedly, sings of the Nereids of Salamis, and Castor delivers a surprisingly boring performance about a foundering ship in the Maeotian Swamp – you think he means to come off as plaintive and despondent, but his slow pacing is off-putting. Andros, prince of Anios, ascends the stage with a pretentious air, and delivers a sort of bizarre poem of experimental nature – there seems no rhyming in the traditional sense, and he instead delivers his verses in a sort of arhythmic staccato, bursts of words that seem to only vaguely relate to one another. The crowd hisses in displeasure at his approach and Andros, furious at the poor reaction, hurls his lyre at a particularly fat nobleman. Once again, Anios must swiftly intervene before things get out of hand – he calls upon Odysseus, King of Ithaka immediately, guiding his son out of view.
Odysseus’ reputation as a storyteller precedes him, of course – even you are desperately eager to hear the man perform. His very presence is enough to silence the crowd, as he stands on the stage, lyre in hand, with his head turned down – he lets the anticipation build for nearly a minute, before he raises his face – eyes afire with passion.
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