and the warships presumably concentrated in the central Navarino Bay.
The second group of 50 men must have been regarded as sufficient to delay landing operations, at first by long distance weapons such as arrows and slings, then by spears, especially where the Messenian coast was rocky,6 until the bulk of the army had arrived. All detachments add up to 740 + x men (some numbers have perished), probably c. 1,000 in all. Their nine commanders are labeled as e-qe-ta: followers (hequetai).7 That they belong to the nobility is indicated by a patronym added in most cases; moreover, they possess land parcels under very favorable terms.8 Hence, the e-qe-ta should be regarded as professional military officers paid indirectly by the palace, with responsibilities for the troops temporarily attached to the o-ka on the coast.
Their duties also include the recruitment of the ship crews. PY An 610 contains an incomplete list of these “rowers” (e-re-ta: eretai); its 19 entries contain local groups of men, 443 in all. If we add the average per group for nine further lost entries (approximately 210) the total is c. 650 “rowers.” Since in PY An 12 the crew of one vessel comprises 30 men, 650 men are sufficient for some 20 crews plus a reserve. This might be what the kingdom could muster in times of threat. Obviously, marines were also on board: much later, in 433, Thucydides (1.49) mentions sea-going hoplites, archers, and spearmen, giving the fighting “done in the old fashion” the character of a land battle. The command of the sea crews was evidently committed to the e-qe-ta; therefore it included the ships.
For the land troops under the lawagétas we are virtually at a complete loss. His high command will have included training in peace, in cooperation with palace authorities controlling the stocks of bronze, also in sanctuaries. Whether resources sufficed to equip more than some dozens of men can be doubted. In the palace’s final year, fewer than 50 corselets are listed (PY Sh 736: to-ra-ke: thorakes), some with hoops of bronze and probably also some made of linen with metal plates sewn all over.9 They constitute ensembles with “helmets” (PY Sh 737, 740: ko-ru-to: of a korys), which appear in ideograms as sets.10 Armor was probably reserved for charioteers and some high-ranking officers.11 We may take for granted that such men had not only spears but also swords. However, tablets dealing with standard military “swords” (KN Ra 1458: pa-ka-na: phasgana) are lost at Pylos; at Knossos they occur in some number.12
Like the Egyptians, Hittites, and the north Syrian Kingdom of Mitanni,13 Greek Mycenaean kingdoms also had cohesive units of chariots, though information is scarce at Pylos, and once more comes substantially from the Knossos tablets.14 Since a special driver was indispensable to give the charioteer a free hand in fighting (he held on to the chariot with his left hand and could not hold the reins and a whip), a pair of horses—at times even three—were needed to draw two men.15
High expenses for chariots could be borne only by the palaces. Along with them, this weaponry disappears, but its memory endured. In the Iliad, Nestor arrays the Pylian chariots in front of the infantry (Il. 4.297–309) and warns the charioteers not to leave their formation: “Thus the old man exhorted them, from time immemorial an expert in fighting” (310). Nestor is generally styled as a representative of a bygone age; so the way he arranges his Pylian chariots at Troy as a unit, in striking contrast to the individual practise of younger Greek kings, may well be a reflection of the Mycenaean tactics.16
At Knossos,17 chariots have special ideograms; we may assume the same for Pylos where pertinent evidence is largely missing. Military chariots must once more have been the responsibility of the lawagétas—palace records will pertain to civilian versions of high officers. Since Greece is a rough country, chariots needed leveled roads and bridges, of the sort partly preserved to this day at some spots near Mycenae.18 There must have been many others, crumbled now or unknown. The costs for building and upkeep were certainly substantial, a further reason for abandoning chariot contingents in post-Mycenaean times.19
At the other end of the hierarchy rank the large majority of the infantry. Certainly, men were lightly armed, fighting as skirmishers with small shields of wicker and “caps of dog’s skin” (kynées). The bulk served as slingers using stones and as archers. Therefore, the supply of arrows—for both the army and the fleet—must have been immense. The palace, generally responsible for importing raw materials, had to supply the bronze needed for arrowheads.
To judge from archaeological finds, a single arrowhead weighed up to 1.5 g. Information about their production comes from the Jn series.20 According to PY Jn 829 “those in charge of a region … and their deputies and … are to give bronze from sanctuaries for arrows and spears, as heads.”21 The long list of officials is strongly abbreviated here, but their contributions in weights are moderate and uniform. So we may guess that all men had to get the prescribed metal as personal loans, otherwise one person would have sufficed to get the total amount. It can be calculated to 34 talents (of 29 kg each) and 26 double MNA (of 1/30 talents each = 0.97 kg), in all 1,011 kg (PY Ja 449). At a minimum, it sufficed for 674,000 arrowheads or 2,886 spearheads (up to 350 g each). Both items were produced in proportions unknown to us.22
Since sufficient amounts of wood were required for fuel, the production of the weapons was outsourced to villages on the land. Men living there as farmers, shepherds, or craftsmen had exactly defined obligations to work for the palace as (bronze)smiths (ka-ke-we: Chalcees). Their local chiefs (pa2-si-re-we: basilées 23) received portions of the collected bronze, distributed personal allotments,24 and sent back the heads to the palace to be redistributed to the armed units.25 In all, a surprisingly detailed system of production.
Efforts were not effective: The Pylos palace went up in flames, as did others during the time that followed.26 Thus ended the centralized organization of life, not by one single catastrophe, but by a series that was probably caused by different groups of Sea Peoples. They also affected Crete, Egypt, the Levant, and the Anatolian Hittite Kingdom. What we read in Egyptian and Hittite texts (and see on the frescoes at Medinet Habu) suggests what also happened to the Mycenaean palaces in Greece proper.
Dark Ages and Archaic Period
The “dark” centuries that followed the age of the Mycenaean palaces (starting at different times in different regions), up to the middle of the eighth century, are characterized by decentralized structures without written evidence. Writing recommenced in the middle of the eighth century, with an alphabet of newly devised letters on Phoenician models. It gave expression to the same Greek language, though now used not for running central archives, but for private dedications and public laws, and for the tradition of poetry of different genres.
Myth to “History”: The Iliad 27
The new literacy starts with the Iliad, an epic with a mythological plot. A broader concept of authorship and authenticity applies: as a literary work, it widely consists of formulaic passages, verses, and phrases that belong to different periods, in most cases preceding the individuals who fell back on such elements to establish their own versions within epic traditions.28 Such poetry was transmitted orally, constantly revised from generation to generation. Only in the end of the process, when the new system of writing became available,29 were the versions then most esteemed noted down and attributed to a legendary poet under the name of Homer.
Because of the process that precedes Homer, the Iliad is an amalgam, not a mirror of actual stages of warfare; nor does it describe historical societies. Themes and perspectives of the epics are clearly aristocratic, with a view to the audience the rhapsodoi (and aoidoi) appealed to.30 So what we can learn about eighth-century warfare is sparse, if we are looking for the historical situation, whereas examples of aristocratic chivalry (as well as inappropriate behavior) are paramount. But for the Greeks who followed, including Herodotus (7.171.2) and Thucydides (1.9ff.), the Trojan War was an historical event.
To