THE

STORY OF THE ILIAD

Three thousand years ago the world was still young. The western continent was a huge wilderness, and the greater part of Europe was inhabited by savage and wandering tribes. Only a few nations at the eastern end of the Mediterranean and in the neighbouring parts of Asia had learned to dwell in cities, to use a written language, to make laws for themselves, and to live in a more orderly fashion. Of these nations the most brilliant was that of the Greeks, who were destined in war, in learning, in government, and in the arts, to play a great part in the world, and to be the real founders of our modern civilization. While they were still a rude people, they had noble ideals of beauty and bravery, of duty and justice. Even before they had a written language, their singers had made songs about their heroes and their great deeds; and later these songs, which fathers had taught to children, and these children to their children, were brought together into two long and wonderful poems, which have ever since been the delight of the world, the Iliad and the Odyssey.

The Iliad is the story of the siege of Ilium, or Troy, on the western coast of Asia Minor. Paris, son of the king of Troy, had enticed Helen, the most beautiful of Grecian women, and the wife of a Grecian king, to leave her husband's home with him; and the kings and princes of the Greeks had gathered an army and a fleet and sailed across the Ægean Sea to rescue her. For ten years they strove to capture the city. According to the fine old legends, the gods themselves took a part in the war, some siding with the Greeks, and some with the Trojans. It was finally through Ulysses, a famous Greek warrior, brave and fierce as well as wise and crafty, that the Greeks captured the city.

The second poem, the Odyssey, tells what befell Ulysses, or Odysseus, as the Greeks called him, on his homeward way. Sailing from Troy with his little fleet of ships, which were so small that they used oars as well as sails, he was destined to wander for ten years longer before he could return to his rocky island of Ithaca, on the west shore of Greece, and to his faithful wife, Penelope.

He had marvellous adventures, for the gods who had opposed the Greeks at Troy had plotted to bring him ill-fortune. Just as his ships were safely rounding the southern cape of Greece, a fierce storm took them out of their course and bore them to many strange lands—lands of giants, man-eating monsters, and wondrous enchantments of which you will delight to read. Through countless perils the resolute wanderer forced his way, losing ship after ship from his little fleet, and companion after companion from his own band, until he reached home friendless and alone, and found his palace, his property, and his family all in the power of a band of greedy princes. These he overcame by his cunning and his strength, and his long trials were ended.

As you read these ancient tales, you must forget what knowledge you have of the world, and think of it as the Greeks did. It was only a little part of the world that they knew at all,—the eastern end of the Mediterranean,—but even that seemed to them a great and marvellous region. Beyond its borders were strange and mysterious lands, in which wonders of all kinds were found, and round all ran the great world-river, the encircling stream of Ocean.

In the mountains of Olympus, to the northward, lived the gods. There was Zeus, greatest of all, the god of thunder and the wide heavens; Hera, his wife; Apollo, the archer god; Athene, the wise and clever goddess; Poseidon, who ruled the sea; Aphrodite, the goddess of love; Hephæstus, the cunning workman; Ares, the god of war; Hermes, the swift messenger; and others still, whom you will learn to know as you read. All these were worshipped by men with prayer and sacrifice; and, as in the early legends of many races, the gods often took the shape of men and women; they had their favourites and those whom they hated; and they ruled the fate of mortals as they chose.

If you let yourselves be beguiled into this old, simple way of regarding earth and heaven, you will not only love these ancient tales yourself, but you will see why, for century after century, they have been the longest loved and the best loved of all tales—beloved by old and young, by men and women and children. For they are hero-tales,—tales of war and adventure, tales of bravery and nobility, tales of the heroes that mankind, almost since the beginning of time, have looked to as ideals of wisdom and strength and beauty.

THE ILIAD

CHAPTER I

THE QUARREL

Leda, Queen of Sparta, bare a daughter, Helen by name, that grew to be the fairest of all women upon earth. She married Menelaus, son of Atreus, and for a while dwelt in peace with her husband, bearing him a daughter, Hermione by name. But there came to the court of Menelaus, who was by this time King of Sparta, a certain Paris, second in birth among the sons of Priam, King of Troy. Menelaus entertained him hospitably, but Paris repaid his kindness with evil, for he carried off his wife, the fair Helen, and took with her many of the King's possessions.

Le'-da.     Men-e-la'-us.     Ag-a-mem'-non.     Her-mi'-o-ne.     A'-treus.

Then Menelaus, with his elder brother Agamemnon, who was lord of all the Greeks, went to all the chiefs, and prayed that they would help them to avenge this wrong. Thus was a great host gathered together, even a hundred thousand men, and eleven hundred fourscore and six ships.

For nine years did the Greeks besiege the city of Troy. They won, indeed, in the field, but could not break through the walls.

Now because they had been away from their homes for many years, they were in want of things needful. Therefore it was their custom to leave part of the army to watch the city, and with part to spoil the cities in the country round about. And in this way the great quarrel that caused such trouble to the host came about.

The Greeks sacked the city of Chryse, where was a temple of Apollo, and a priest that served the temple. And when they divided the spoil, they gave to King Agamemnon, with other gifts, the priest's daughter Chryseis. Thereupon Chryses, the priest, came to the camp, wishing to ransom his daughter. Much gold he brought with him, and on his staff of gold he carried the holy garland, that men might reverence him the more. He went to all the chiefs, and to the sons of Atreus first of all, saying:—

Chry'-se.     A-pol'-lo.     Chry-se'-is.     Chry'-ses.

"Loose, I pray you, my dear daughter, and take the ransom for her; so may the gods that dwell in Olympus grant you to take the city of Troy, and to have safe return to your homes."

Then all the others spake him fair, and would have done what he wished. Only Agamemnon would not have it so.

"Get thee out, graybeard!" he cried in great wrath. "Let me not find thee lingering now by the ships, neither coming hither again, or it shall be the worse for thee, for all thy priesthood. And as for thy daughter, I shall carry her away to Argos, when I shall have taken this city of Troy."

Then the old man went out hastily in great fear and trouble. And he walked in his sorrow by the shore of the sounding sea, and prayed to his god Apollo.

"Hear me, God of the silver bow! If I have built thee a temple, and offered thee the fat of many bullocks and rams, hear me, and avenge my tears on these Greeks with thine arrows!"

And Apollo heard him. Wroth was he that men had so dishonoured his priest, and he came down from the top of Olympus, where he dwelt. Dreadful was the rattle of his arrows as he went, and his coming was as the night when it cometh over the sky. Then he shot the arrows of death, first on the dogs and the mules, and then on the men; and soon all along the shore rolled the black smoke from the piles of wood on which they burnt the bodies of the dead.

O-lym'-pus.

For nine days the shafts of the god went throughout the host; but on the tenth day Achilles called the people to an assembly. So Hera bade him, for she loved the Greeks, and grieved to see them die. When they were gathered together he stood up among them, and spake to Agamemnon.

A-chil'-les.     He'-ra.

"Surely it were better to return home, than that we should all perish here by war or plague. But come, let us ask some prophet, or priest, or dreamer of dreams, why it is that Apollo is so wroth with us."

Then stood up Calchas, best of prophets, who knew what had been, and what was, and what was to come, and spake.

Cal'-chas.     seer, prophet.

"Achilles, thou biddest me tell the people why Apollo is wroth with them. Lo! I will tell thee, but thou must first swear to stand by me, for I know that what I shall say will anger King Agamemnon, and it goes ill with common men when kings are angry."

"Speak out, thou wise man!" cried Achilles; "for I swear by Apollo that while I live no one shall lay hands on thee, no, not Agamemnon's self, though he be lord of the Greeks."

Then the blameless seer took heart, and spake: "It is not for vow or offering that Apollo is wroth; it is for his servant the priest, for he came to ransom his daughter, but Agamemnon scorned him, and would not let the maiden go. Now, then, ye must send her back without ransom, and with her a hundred beasts for sacrifice, so that the plague may be stayed."

Then Agamemnon stood up in a fury, his eyes blazing like fire.

"Never," he cried, "hast thou spoken good concerning me, ill prophet that thou art, and now thou tellest me to give up this maiden! I will do it, for I would not that the people should perish. Only take care, ye Greeks, that there be a share of the spoil for me, for it would be ill if the lord of all the host should alone be without his share."

"Nay, my lord Agamemnon," cried Achilles, "thou art too eager for gain. We have no treasures out of which we may make up thy loss, for what we got out of the towns we have either sold or divided; nor would it be fitting that the people should give back what has been given to them. Give up the maiden, then, without conditions, and when we shall have taken this city of Troy, we will repay thee three and four fold."

"Nay, great Achilles," said Agamemnon, "thou shalt not cheat me thus. If the Greeks will give me such a share as I should have, well and good. But if not, I will take one for myself, whether it be from thee, or from Ajax, or from Ulysses; for my share I will have. But of this hereafter. Now let us see that this maiden be sent back. Let them get ready a ship, and put her therein, and with her a hundred victims for sacrifice, and let some chief go with the ship, and see that all things be rightly done."

A'-jax.

Then cried Achilles, and his face was black as a thunder-storm: "Surely thou art altogether shameless and greedy, and, in truth, an ill ruler of men. No quarrel have I with the Trojans. They never seized oxen or sheep of mine in my native land, for many mountains lie between, and a great breadth of roaring sea. But I have been fighting in thy cause, and that of thy brother. Naught carest thou for that. Thou leavest me to fight, and sittest in thy tent at ease. But when the spoil is divided, thine is always the lion's share. Small indeed is my part, and this, forsooth, thou wilt take away! Now am I resolved to go home. I have no mind to heap up goods and gold for thee, and be myself dishonoured."

And King Agamemnon answered: "Go, and thy Myrmidons with thee! I have other chieftains as good as thou art, and ready, as thou art not, to pay me due respect; and Zeus is with me. I hate thee, for thou always lovest war and strife. And as for the matter of the spoil, know that I will take thy share, the girl Briseis, and fetch her myself, if need be, that all may know that I am sovereign lord here in the host of the Greeks."

Myr-mi-dons, the soldiers of Achilles.     Bri-se'-is.

Then Achilles was mad with anger, and he thought in his heart, "Shall I arise and slay him, or shall I keep down the wrath in my breast?" And as he thought he laid his hand on his sword-hilt, and had half drawn his sword from the scabbard, when lo! the goddess Athene stood behind him (for Hera, who loved both chieftains had sent her), and caught him by the long locks of his yellow hair. Achilles marvelled much to feel the mighty grasp, and turned, and looked, and knew the goddess, but no one else in the assembly could see her. Terrible was the flash of his eyes as he cried: "Art thou come, child of Zeus, to see the insolence of Agamemnon? Of a truth, I think that he will perish for his folly."

A-the'-ne.

But Athene said: "Nay, I am come from heaven to calm thy wrath, if thou wilt hear me; white-armed Hera sent me, for she loveth and cherisheth you both alike. Draw not thy sword; but use bitter words, even as thou wilt. Of a truth, I tell thee that for this insolence of to-day he will bring thee hereafter splendid gifts, threefold and fourfold for all that he may take away. Only restrain thyself and do my bidding."

Then Achilles answered: "I will abide by thy command in spite of my wrath, for the man who hearkens to the immortal gods is also heard by them." And as he spake he laid his heavy hand upon the hilt, and thrust back the sword into the scabbard, and Athene went her way to Olympus.

Then he turned him to King Agamemnon, and spake again, for his anger was not spent: "Drunkard, with the eyes of a dog and the heart of a deer! never fighting in the front of the battle, nor daring to lie in the ambush! This I tell thee, and confirm my words with a mighty oath—by this sceptre do I swear. Once it was the branch of a tree; and as surely as it shall never again have bark, or leaves, or shoots, so surely shall the Greeks one day miss Achilles, when they fall in heaps before the dreadful Hector; and thou shalt eat thy heart for rage, to think that thou hast wronged the bravest of thy host."

And as he spake he dashed the sceptre upon the ground, and sat down. And on the other side Agamemnon sat in furious anger. Then Nestor rose, an old man of a hundred years and more, and counselled peace. Let them listen, he said, to his counsel. Great chiefs in the old days, with whom no man now alive would dare to fight, had listened to him. Let not Agamemnon take away from the bravest of the Greeks the prize of war; let not Achilles, though he was mightier in battle than all other men, contend with Agamemnon, who was sovereign lord of all the hosts of Greece. But he spake in vain. For Agamemnon answered:—

"Nestor, thou speakest well, and peace is good. But this fellow would lord it over all; yet there are some, methinks, who will not obey him. For if the immortal gods have made him a great warrior, do they therefore grant him leave to speak lawless words? Verily he must be taught that there is one here, at least, who is better than he."

And Achilles said: "I would be a slave and a coward if I owned thee as my lord. Play the master over others, but think not to master me. As for the prize which the Greeks gave me, let them do as they will. They gave it; let them take it away. But if thou darest to touch aught that is mine own, that hour thy life-blood shall redden on my spear."

Then the assembly was dismissed. Chryseis was sent to her home with due offerings to the god, the wise Ulysses going with her. And all the people purified themselves, and offered sacrifices to the gods; and the sweet savour went up to heaven in the wreathing smoke.

But King Agamemnon would not go back from his purpose, So he called to him the heralds, Talthybius and Eurybates, and said:—

Tal-thyb'-i-us.     Eu-ryb'-a-tes.

"Heralds, go to the tents of Achilles, and fetch the maiden Briseis. But if he will not let her go, say that I will come myself with many others to fetch her; and it will be the worse for him."

Sorely against their will the heralds went. Along the seashore they walked, till they came to where, amidst the Myrmidons, were the tents of Achilles. There they found him, sitting between his tent and his ship. He did not rejoice to see them, and they stood in great terror and shame. But he knew in his heart wherefore they had come, and cried aloud: "Come near, ye heralds, messengers of gods and men. 'Tis no fault of yours that ye are come on such an errand."

Then he turned to Patroclus, his dearest friend, and said: "Bring the maiden from her tent, and let the heralds lead her away. But let them be witnesses, before gods and men, and before this evil-minded king, that the day will come when he shall have sore need of me to save his host from destruction."

Pa-tro'-clus.

Then Patroclus brought forth the maiden from her tent, and gave her to the heralds. And they led her away, sorely against her will. But Achilles went apart from his comrades, and sat upon the seashore, falling into a great passion of tears, and stretching out his hands with loud prayer to his mother, Thetis, daughter of the sea. She heard him where she sat in the depths by her father, the old god of the sea, and rose from the gray sea, as a vapour rises, and came to where he sat weeping, and stroked him with her hand, and hailed him by his name.

The'-tis.

"What ails thee, my son?" she said.

Then he told her the story of his wrong, and when he had ended he said:—

"Go, I pray thee, to the top of Olympus, to the palace of Zeus. Often have I heard thee boast how, long ago, thou didst help him when the other gods would have bound him, fetching Briareus of the hundred hands, who sat by him in his strength, so that the gods feared to touch him. Go now, and call these things to his mind, and pray him that he help the sons of Troy, and give them victory in the battle, so that the Greeks, as they flee before them, may have joy of this king of theirs, who has done such wrong to the bravest of his host."

Bri-a'-re-us.

And his mother answered him: "Surely thine is an evil lot, my son. Thy life is short, and it should of right be without tears and full of joy; but now it seems to me to be both short and sad. But I will go as thou sayest to Olympus, to the palace of Zeus; but not now, for he has gone, and the other gods with him, to a twelve days' feast with the pious Ethiopians. But when he comes back I will entreat and persuade him. And do thou sit still, nor go forth to battle."

Meanwhile Ulysses drew near to Chryse with the holy offerings. And when they were come within the haven, they furled the sail, and laid it in the ship, and lowered the mast, and rowed the ship to her moorings. They cast out the anchor stones, and made fast the cables from the stern. After that they landed, taking with them the offerings and the maid Chryseis. To the altar they brought the maid, and gave her into the arms of her father, and the wise Ulysses said: "See now; Agamemnon, king of men, sends back thy daughter, and with her a hundred beasts for sacrifice, that we may appease the god who hath smitten the Greeks in his wrath."

Then the priest received his daughter right gladly, and when they had ranged the beasts about the altar, then the priest prayed, "Hear me, God of the silver bow! If before thou didst hearken to my prayer, and grievously afflict the Greeks, so hear me now, and stay this plague which is come upon them."

So prayed he, and the god gave ear.

Then they slew the cattle, and flayed them, and burned an offering to the gods. Then they cut up the rest, and broiled the pieces carefully on spits. This being done, they made their meal, nor did any one lack his share. And when the meal was ended, then they poured a little wine into the cups to serve for an offering to the gods. After that they sat till sunset, singing a hymn to the Archer God, and making merry; and he heard their voice and was pleased.

When the sun went down they slept beside the stern-cables; and when the dawn appeared then they embarked, raising the mast and spreading the sail; and Apollo sent them a favouring wind, and the dark blue wave hissed about the ship as she went: so they came to the camp of the Greeks.

But all the time Achilles sat in wrath beside his ships; he went not to the war, nor yet to the assembly, but sat fretting in his heart, because he longed for the cry of the battle.

CHAPTER II

THE ASSEMBLY

When the twelfth day was come, Thetis rose out of the sea, and went to high Olympus. There she found Zeus sitting apart on the topmost peak of Olympus, and she knelt down before him; with her left hand she clasped his knees, and with her right she took his beard, and she made her prayer unto him.

"O Father Zeus, if ever I have aided thee by word or deed, fulfil now my prayer. Give honour, I beseech thee, to Achilles my son, who hath so short a space of life; for now Agamemnon hath put dishonour upon him, taking away the gift that the Greeks gave him. Grant, therefore, that the men of Troy may for a while gain the victory so that the Greeks may do honour to my son."

So she spake, and Zeus sat a long time silent; but Thetis would not loose her hold. Then she spake again: "Give me now thy promise, and confirm it with a nod, or else deny me. So shall I know that I am held least in honour of all the gods."

Then Zeus made answer much disturbed: "This is a hard matter, for thou wilt set me at strife with Hera, and she will upbraid me with bitter words. Even now she is ever reproaching me, saying that I favour the men of Troy in the battle. Therefore go thou away, that she may not know of thy coming; and I will consider how this thing may be best accomplished. And now I will assure my promise with a nod; for when I give my nod, then the thing may not be repented of or left undone."

So he spake, and nodded with his dark brows, and the hair waved about his head, and all Olympus was shaken.

Then Thetis departed, diving into the deep sea, and Zeus went to his own house, and all the gods rose up before him. And when he sat upon his chair, then Hera, knowing that Thetis of the silver feet had held counsel with him, addressed him with bitter words.

"Who hath been in council with thee, thou plotter? Thou dost always take pleasure, when I am absent, in secret plans, and never tellest thy thought to me freely."

To her the father of gods and men made reply: "Hera, think not to know all my thoughts; that would be too hard for thee, even though thou art my wife. That which is fitting thou shalt hear first; but into such counsel as I take by myself inquire thou not."

Hera answered: "What sayest thou? I have not pried into thy plans. These thou makest as thou wilt. And now I sorely fear that Thetis of the silver feet hath persuaded thee. At dawn of day I saw her kneeling before thee; thou hast granted, I doubt not, that Achilles shall have honour, and that many of the Greeks shall die beside their ships."

To this Zeus made reply: "Verily nothing escapeth thee, thou witch. If it be as thou sayest, such is my will. Do thou sit silent, and obey. Else all the gods in Olympus shall not save thee, when I lay upon thee the hands that none may resist."

Then Hera was afraid, and held her peace, and all the gods were troubled. But her son Hephæstus, the smith, spake, saying: "This indeed will be grievous, if ye two come to strife for the sake of mortal men, and make trouble among the gods. If such ill counsels prevail, what pleasure shall we have in our feasting? Now will I advise my mother that she make peace with Zeus, lest he rebuke her again. If he were minded to hurl her from these seats, who should withstand him?"

He-phæs'-tus.

Thereupon he put the double-handled cup into his mother's hand, and said: "Have patience, mother, for all that thou art vexed, lest I see thee beaten before mine eyes. I could not help thee. Once before when I would have succoured thee, he grasped me by the foot, and flung me from the threshold of heaven. All day I fell, and at sunset I lighted in Lemnos."

Then Hera smiled, and took the cup from her son. And he went round to all the gods, going from left to right as a cupbearer should, and poured the nectar from the mixing-bowl, and laughter without end awoke among the blessed gods, when they saw the limping Hephæstus go puffing through the hall.

Gods and men slept that night; but Zeus slept not, for he thought in his heart how he might do honour to Achilles. And as he thought, he judged it best to send a deceiving dream to Agamemnon. Therefore he said: "Go, deceiving Dream, to the swift ships of the Greeks, and seek the tent of Agamemnon. Bid him make haste and arm the Greeks, for he shall surely take the city of Troy."

So the dream went to the tent of Agamemnon, and found him wrapped in sleep. It took the shape of Nestor, the old chief, whom the King honoured more than all besides.

Then the false Nestor spake: "Sleepest thou, Agamemnon? It is not for kings to sleep all through the night, for they must take thought for many, and have many cares. Listen now to the words of Zeus: 'Set the battle in array against Troy, for the gods are now of one mind, and the day of doom is come for the city, and thou shalt take it, and gain everlasting glory for thyself.'"

And Agamemnon believed the dream. So he rose from his bed, and donned his tunic, and put over it a great cloak, and fastened the sandals on his feet, and hung from his shoulders his mighty silver-studded sword, and took in his right hand the great sceptre of his house, which was the token of his sovereignty over all the Greeks.

First he called a council of the chiefs by the ship of King Nestor; and when they were seated, he said: "Hear me, my friends. This night a dream came to me in my sleep; most like it was to Nestor. Above my head it stood, and said: 'Thou sleepest, son of Atreus. It is not for kings to sleep all through the night. Now mark my word; I come to thee from Zeus, who careth for thee, though he be far away. He bids thee call the Greeks to battle, for now thou shalt take the city of Troy.' So spake the Dream. Come, therefore, let us rouse the Greeks; but first I will try their spirit, counselling them to flee to their homes, and do ye dissuade them."

Then up rose Nestor in his place and spake: "Had any other told us this dream, we had thought it false; but seeing that he who hath seen it is chief among us, let us call the people to arms."

Then the heralds made proclamation, and the people hastened to their places. Even as the bees swarm from a hollow rock and cluster about the flowers of spring, and some fly this way and some that, so the many tribes marched from the ships and the tents to the place of the assembly. Great was the confusion and great the uproar, and nine heralds sought to quiet the people, that they might listen to the speaking of the kings; and at the last the Greeks ceased from their shouting, and sat in their places.

Then Agamemnon rose up, holding the sceptre in his hand, and spake thus: "O my friends, ill hath Zeus dealt with me. He promised me that I should take the city of Troy, and so return to my home. But his words were deceitful, for now he bids me go back to Argos. Nine years have passed, and the timbers of our ships are rotted, and the rigging is worn; and our wives and our children sit at home and wait for us. Come, therefore, let us flee to the land of our fathers, for Troy we may not take."

So spake the King, and stirred the hearts of the people; that is to say, of all that knew not his secret counsel. All the assembly was moved as the sea is moved, when the east wind raiseth the waves, or as a cornfield, when the strong west wind comes upon it, and shakes the ears. Shouting they hasted to the ships, and laid hands on them to drag them down.

Then would the Greeks have returned home again. But Hera spake to Athene: "Will the Greeks thus idly flee to their homes? and will they leave Helen to Priam and to Troy,—Helen, for whom so many have fallen far from their fatherland? Hasten now, and turn them from their purpose."

So Athene hastened down from Olympus, and she found Ulysses, who had laid no hand upon his ship, for grief had touched him to his heart. To him she said: "Son of Laertes, will ye indeed flee to your fatherland, and leave Helen, for whom so many have fallen, to be a boast to Priam and the men of Troy? Go now, and dissuade the Greeks, and suffer them not to drag their ships to the sea."

La-er'-tes.

And when Ulysses heard the voice of the goddess, he cast away his cloak, and ran. King Agamemnon gave him his sceptre, and, bearing that, he went among the ships. When he saw a chief, he said with gentle words, "Hold, sir, it ill becomes thee to be a coward; sit still and hold the people back. Thou knowest not the mind of the King; he did but make trial of the spirit of the Greeks. Anger him not, lest he do some mischief to the people."

But when he saw a common man, he smote him with his sceptre, and said: "Fellow, sit still, and listen to them that are better than thou. Let there be one master, one king, to whom Zeus has given authority."

Thus did he turn them from their purpose. And they hasted again to the assembly with such a noise as when a wave breaks along the shore.

But, when all the rest were silent, Thersites alone jeered at the princes, that he might move laughter among the Greeks. Most ill-favoured was he of all that came to Troy, bandy-legged, and halting on one foot, with a hump on his back, narrow-chested, and his head misshapen, with straggling hair thereon. Loud he shouted now, reviling Agamemnon:—

Ther-si'-tes.

"What lackest thou yet, son of Atreus? Full of bronze are thy tents, and many are the fair women whom we have given thee. Wantest thou more than these? Surely a leader of men should not bring the Greeks into trouble. And ye, who are women rather than men, why sail ye not home, and leave this man to gorge himself with his spoils alone? For now he hath wronged Achilles, taking away his gift—Achilles, who is far better than he. Surely Achilles is mild of temper, or this, son of Atreus, had been thy last wrong-doing!"

Thereupon Ulysses rose up beside him, and spake in wrath: "Peace, babbler; take not the name of kings upon thy lips, nor taunt thy betters. Hearken now to me: if I hear thee speak idle words again as thou hast done this day, I will surely strip from off thee cloak and tunic, and drive thee to the ships with shameful blows." So speaking, he smote him with the sceptre on back and shoulders; and a bloody weal rose up beneath the blow. All dazed, the fellow cowered down and wiped away his tears.

Merrily laughed the others, saying one to his neighbour: "Often hath Ulysses done well, but never better than now, when he hath stopped this babbler's tongue. He will not rail against the kings again."

Then Ulysses stood up to speak, holding the sceptre in his hand; and Athene stood by his side, in the likeness of a herald, bidding the people keep silence, that all, nearest and farthest alike, might hear his words.

"Now, O King," he said, "the Greeks are shaming thee, abiding no more by their promise which they made thee coming from Argos; that they would not return till they had taken the city of Troy. Truly there is toil enough here to make us sick of heart and wishful to return. For a man will feel weary if he be kept but a single moon from his wife by winter winds and stormy sea, and we have lingered here for twelve moons nine times told. But it is not well to tarry long and come back empty-handed, after all. Ye all remember the prophecy that was given when we set sail from Greece,—all whom death hath not carried away,—that for nine years we should make war, and in the tenth we should take the fair city of Troy. Remain, therefore, ye Greeks, till ye have taken Priam's mighty town."

So he spake, and all the Greeks shouted in assent; and the ships sent back the shout as if it had been thunder.

Then King Agamemnon stood up, and said: "Go now to your meal, and afterwards we will join the battle. Let every man whet well his spear, and fit his shield, and feed his horses abundantly, and look to his chariot, that all day long we may fight, and cease not, even for a little space, till night shall come and separate the hosts. Truly the band of the shield shall grow wet, and the hand be weary that holdeth the spear, and the horse shall sweat that draweth the polished chariot. And whoever holdeth back from the fight, tarrying at the ships, nothing shall save him from feeding the dogs and the fowls of the air."

Then the Greeks shouted again. Quickly did they scatter themselves among the ships and the tents, and make their meal. And Agamemnon made a feast, and called thereto the chiefs, Nestor and Idomeneus, and Ajax the Greater and Ajax the Less, and Diomed, and Ulysses; but Menelaus came uncalled, knowing that he would be welcome.

I-do'-me-neus.     Di'-o-med.

Then King Agamemnon stood up and prayed: "O Zeus, let not the sun set and the darkness fall before I humble Priam's roof in the dust, and burn his doors with fire, and rend the coat of Hector on his breast!"

So he prayed, but Zeus hearkened not.

And when the feast was ended, the chiefs marshalled their hosts for the battle; and Athene in the midst swept through the host, urging them to the conflict; and in every heart she roused the delight of battle, so that there was no man but would have chosen war rather than to return to his home. As is the flare of a great fire when a wood is burning on a hilltop, so was the flash of their arms and their armour, as they thronged to the field. And as the countless flocks of wild geese or cranes or swans now wheel and now settle in the great Asian swamp, or as the bees swarm in the spring, when the milk-pails are full, so thick the Greeks thronged to the battle in the great plain by the banks of the Scamander.

Sca-man'-der.

CHAPTER III

THE DUEL OF PARIS AND MENELAUS

So now the hosts drew near to battle. With many a cry the men of Troy came on, clamorous as a flock of cranes when they fly southward from the winter and the rain. But the Greeks marched in silence, resolute to stand by one another in the battle; and beneath their feet rose up a great cloud of dust, thick as the mist which the south wind brings over the mountain-tops.

They were now about to fight, when from the ranks of the Trojans Paris rushed forth. He had a panther's skin over his shoulders, and a bow and a sword, and in either hand a spear, and he called aloud to the Greeks that they should send forth their bravest to fight with him. But when Menelaus saw him he was glad, for he said that now he should avenge himself on the man who had done him such wrong. He leapt from his chariot and rushed to meet his enemy; but Paris was afraid when he saw Menelaus, and fled back into the ranks of his comrades, just as a man steps back in haste when unawares in a mountain glen he comes upon a snake. But Hector saw him, and rebuked him: "Fair art thou to look upon, Paris, but nothing worth. Surely the Greeks will scorn us if they think that thou art our bravest warrior, because thou art of stately presence. But thou art a coward; and yet thou daredst to go across the sea and carry off the fair Helen. Why dost thou not stand and abide the onset of her husband, and see what manner of man he is? Little would thy harp and thy long locks and thy fair face avail when thou wert lying in the dust! A craven race are the sons of Troy, or they would have stoned thee ere this."

Then Paris answered: "Thou speakest well, Hector, and thy rebuke is just. As for thee, thy heart is like iron, ever set on battle; yet are beauty and love also the gifts of the gods, and not to be despised. But now set Menelaus and me in the midst, and let us fight, man to man, for the fair Helen and for all her possessions. And if he prevail over me, let him take her and them and depart, and the Greeks with him, leaving you to dwell in peace; but if I prevail they shall depart without her."

Then Hector was glad, and going before the Trojan ranks, holding his spear by the middle, he kept them back. But the Greeks would have shot at him with arrows and slung stones, only Agamemnon cried aloud and said, "Hold, Hector has somewhat to say to us."

Then Hector said: "Hear, Trojans and Greeks, what Paris saith, Paris who hath bred this quarrel between us: 'Let all lay their arms upon the ground, and let Menelaus and me fight for the fair Helen, and all her wealth. And let him that is the better keep her and them, but the rest shall swear faith and friendship.'"

Then Menelaus stood up and spake: "Listen to me, for this trouble toucheth me nearer than you all. The Greeks and the men of Troy would fain be at peace, for they have suffered grievous things because of my quarrel and of the wrong that Paris did. Therefore we two will fight together, and let him perish who is doomed to die. Bring two sheep, ye men of Troy, a white wether for the sun, and a black ewe for the earth, and we will bring another for Zeus. And let Priam himself come, and do sacrifice, and take the oath. Young men are ever changeable; but when an old man is among them, he taketh thought for all."

So spake Menelaus; and both the armies were glad, hoping to see an end of the war.

Then Hector sent a herald to the city, to summon Priam to the sacrifice and to fetch the sheep. And while he went, Iris, in the guise of Laodice, fairest of the daughters of Priam, came to Helen, where she sat in her hall, weaving a great web of double breadth and dyed with purple, whereon she had wrought many battles of the Greeks and the men of Troy, Iris came near and said:

La-o'-di-ce.

"Come, dear sister, and behold this marvel. Heretofore the Greeks and the men of Troy have fought together on the plain, but now they sit in peace, and the war is stayed; for Paris and Menelaus are to fight for thee, and thou shalt be the wife of him that shall prevail."

So spake the goddess, and roused in Helen sweet longing for her former husband, and her city, and her parents. So she wrapped herself in white apparel, and went forth from her chamber.

Meanwhile Priam sat on the wall with the old men. They had ceased from war, but in speech they were to be admired; they were like to the crickets that sit upon a tree in the wood, and send forth a thin, sweet voice. And as they talked, the fair Helen came near, and they said: "What wonder that men should suffer much for such a woman, for indeed she is divinely fair! Yet let her depart in the ships, nor bring a curse on us and our children."

But Priam called to her: "Come near, my daughter, that thou mayest see him that was thy husband, and thy friends and kinsmen. I find no fault with thee, for 'tis not thou, 'tis the gods who have brought about all this trouble. But tell me, who is this warrior that I see, so fair and strong? There are others even a head taller than he, but none of such majesty."

And Helen answered: "Ah, my father! I owe thee much reverence; yet would that I had died before I left husband and child to follow thy son. But as for this warrior, he is Agamemnon, a good king and brave soldier, and my brother-in-law in the old days."

"Happy Agamemnon," said Priam, "to rule over so many! Never saw I such an army gathered together. But who is this that I see, not so tall as Agamemnon, but of broader shoulders? His arms lie upon the ground, and he is walking through the ranks of his men just as some great ram walks through a flock of sheep."

"This," said Helen, "is Ulysses of Ithaca, who is better in craft and counsel than all other men."

"'Tis well spoken, lady," said Antenor. "Well I remember Ulysses when he came hither on an embassy about thee with the brave Menelaus. My guests they were, and I knew them well. And I remember how, in the assembly of the Trojans, when both were standing, Menelaus was the taller, but when they sat, Ulysses was the more majestic to behold. And when they rose to speak, Menelaus said few words, but said them wisely and well; and Ulysses—you had thought him a fool, so stiffly he held his sceptre and so downcast were his eyes; but as soon as he began, oh! the mighty voice, and the words thick as the falling snow!"

An-te'-nor.

Then Priam said, "Who is that stalwart hero, so tall and strong, overtopping all by head and shoulders?"

"That," said Helen, "is mighty Ajax, the bulwark of the Greeks. And next to him is Idomeneus. Often has Menelaus had him as his guest in the old days, when he came from Crete. As for the other chiefs, I see and could name them all. But I miss my own dear brothers, Castor, tamer of horses, and Pollux, the mighty boxer. Either they came not from Sparta, or, having come, shun the meeting of men for shame of me."

So she spake, and knew not that they were sleeping their last sleep far away in their dear fatherland.

Meanwhile the heralds were bringing the sheep from the town, and wine in a goatskin; and Idæus, the herald, carried a bowl and golden cups. He came near to King Priam, and told him how the armies called for him. So he went, and he, on the one side, for the Trojans, and King Agamemnon for the Greeks, made a covenant with sacrifice that Paris and Menelaus should fight together, and that the fair Helen, with all her treasures, should go with him who should prevail.

I-dæ'-us.

And when the sacrifice and the prayers were ended, King Priam said: "I will go back to Troy, for I could not endure to see my son fighting with Menelaus. But which of the two is doomed to death, Zeus and the immortal gods only know."

So he spake and climbed into his chariot and took the reins; so he went back to Troy even as he came.

And afterwards Hector and Ulysses marked out a space for the fight, and Hector shook two pebbles in a helmet, looking away as he shook them, that he whose pebble leapt forth the first should be the first to throw his spear. And so it befell that the lot of Paris leapt forth first. Then the two warriors armed themselves, and came forth into the space, and stood over against each other, brandishing their spears, with hate in their eyes. Then Paris threw his spear. It struck the shield of Menelaus, but pierced it not, for the spear point was bent back. Then Menelaus prayed to Zeus: "Grant, Father Zeus, that I may avenge myself on Paris, who has done me this wrong; so shall men in after time fear to do wrong to their host." So speaking, he cast his long-shafted spear. It struck the shield of Paris and pierced it through, and passed through the corselet, and through the tunic; but Paris shrank aside, and the spear wounded him not. Then Menelaus drew his silver-studded sword and struck a mighty blow on the top of the helmet of Paris, but the sword broke in four pieces in his hand. Then he cried in his wrath, "O Zeus, most mischief-loving of the gods, my spear I cast in vain, and now my sword is broken." Then he rushed forward and seized Paris by the helmet, and dragged him towards the hosts of the Greeks, for he was choked by the band of the helmet. And truly he had taken him, but Aphrodite loosed the strap that was beneath the chin, and the helmet came off in his hand. And Menelaus whirled it among the Greeks and charged with another spear in his hand. But Aphrodite snatched Paris away, covering him with a mist, and put him down in his chamber in Troy. Then Menelaus looked for him everywhere, but no one could tell him where he might be. No son of Troy would have hidden him out of kindness, for all hated him as death.

Aph-ro-di'-te.

Then King Agamemnon said, "Now, ye sons of Troy, it is for you to give back the fair Helen and her wealth, and to pay me, besides, so much as may be fitting for all my cost and trouble."

So spake King Agamemnon, and the Greeks applauded.

CHAPTER IV

THE BROKEN OATH

Meanwhile the gods sat in council in the hall of Zeus; and fair Hebe poured out for them the nectar, and they pledged each other in cups of gold, looking down upon the city of Troy. Then spake Zeus, seeking to provoke Hera with taunting words:—

He'-be.

"Two helpers hath Menelaus among the goddesses, even Hera and Athene. But now they sit still and take their pleasure, while Aphrodite walketh beside Paris, and delivereth him from instant death. Yet, seeing that Menelaus hath prevailed, let us consider what shall next be done. Shall we stir up war again, or make peace between the hosts? If it please you to make peace, then let Menelaus take Helen to his home again, and let Priam's city continue."

So he spake. But Hera and Athene sat wrathful side by side, meditating evil in their hearts against the men of Troy. Athene kept silence, in spite of the fury that raged within her, but Hera could not contain her wrath, and spake:—

"What is this thou sayest? Wouldst thou make void all my toil and trouble, with which I have gathered this people together, that Priam and his sons may be destroyed? Do as thou wilt; but it pleaseth not the other gods."

To her Zeus spake in answer wrathfully: "Tell us what evil have Priam and the sons of Priam done in thy sight that thou desirest so pitilessly the downfall of this fair city of Troy? Verily wert thou to pass within the gates, and eat Priam raw, and his sons with him, then might thy hate be satisfied. Do, then, as thou wilt. Let not this matter breed ill-will betwixt me and thee. Yet remember what I say. If I be minded to destroy in time to come some city that thou lovest, say me not nay, nor hinder me, for in this have I yielded to thy will. Verily of all the cities of men that lie beneath the stars, I have loved Troy the best. Never there has my altar failed of feast and banquet and the sweet savour that is the due of gods."

Then Hera answered: "Three cities have I that I love, Argos and Sparta and Mycenæ. If they have offended thee, destroy them; I begrudge them not; nor, indeed, could I withstand thy will. Yet my toil also should not be made vain; for I, too, am a daughter of Chronos, and first in place among the immortals, seeing that I am thy wife, who art the King. Come, therefore, let us yield to one another, and the other gods will follow us. Let now Athene go down, and bring it to pass that some one of the Trojans begin the strife and break the truce."

My-ce'-næ.

Thus she ended, and Zeus said not nay, but spake straightway to Athene: "Make haste, get thee down to the host, and bring it to pass that the men of Troy break the truce."

So Athene sped down from the top of Olympus, like to a star which Zeus sends as a sign to sailors on the sea, or to some host that goeth forth to battle; and wonder cometh upon all that behold it.

Among the host of Troy she went, taking upon herself the shape of Laodocus, son of Antenor, and went to Pandarus, where he stood among his men. Then the false Laodocus said: "Pandarus, darest thou aim an arrow at Menelaus. Truly the Trojans would love thee well, and Paris best of all, if they could see Menelaus slain by an arrow from thy bow. Aim then, but first pray to Apollo, and vow that thou wilt offer a hundred beasts when thou returnest to thy city."

La-o'-do-cus.     Pan'-da-rus.

Now Pandarus had a bow made of the horns of a wild goat which he had slain; sixteen palms long were the horns, and a cunning workman had made them smooth, and put a tip of gold whereon to fasten the bow-string. And Pandarus strung his bow, his comrades hiding him with their shields. Then he took an arrow from his quiver, and laid it on the bow-string, and drew the string to his breast, till the arrow-head touched the bow, and let fly. Right well aimed was the dart, but it was not the will of heaven that it should slay Menelaus. For the daughter of Zeus stood before him, and turned aside the shaft, waving it from him as a mother waveth a fly from her child when he lieth asleep. She guided it to where the golden clasps of the belt came together, and the breast-plate overlapped. It passed through the belt, and through the corselet, and through the girdle, and pierced the skin. Then the red blood rushed out and stained the white skin.

Sore dismayed was King Agamemnon to see the blood; sore dismayed also was the brave Menelaus, till he spied the barb of the arrow, and knew that the wound was not deep. But Agamemnon cried: "It was in an evil hour for thee, my brother, that I made a covenant with these false sons of Troy. Right well, indeed, I know that oath and sacrifice are not in vain. For though Zeus fulfil not now his purpose, yet will he take vengeance at the last, and the guilty shall suffer, they and their wives, and their children. Troy shall fall; but woe is me if thou shouldst die, Menelaus. For the Greeks will straightway go back to their fatherland, and the fair Helen will be left a boast to the sons of Troy, and I shall have great shames when one of them shall say, as he leaps on the tomb of the brave Menelaus, 'Surely the great Agamemnon has avenged himself well; for he brought an army hither, but now has gone back to his home, and left Menelaus here.' May the earth swallow me up before that day!"

"Nay," said Menelaus; "fear not, for the arrow hath but grazed the skin."

Then King Agamemnon bade fetch Machaon, the physician. And Machaon came, and drew forth the arrow, and when he had wiped away the blood he put healing drugs upon the wound.

Ma-cha'-on.

But while this was doing, King Agamemnon went throughout the host, and if he saw any one stirring himself to get ready for the battle he praised him and gave him good encouragement; but whomsoever he saw halting and lingering and slothful, him he blamed and rebuked, whether he were common man or chief.

So he passed through all the host. And the Greeks went forward to the battle, as the waves that curl themselves, then dash upon the shore, throwing high the foam. In order they went after their chiefs; you would have thought then dumb, so silent were they. But the Trojans were like a flock of ewes which wait to be milked, and bleat hearing the voice of their lambs, so confused a cry went out from their army, for there were men of many tongues gathered together. And on either side the gods urged them on.

CHAPTER V

THE VALIANT DEEDS OF DIOMED

When the armies were come into one place, they dashed together with buckler and spear: and there was a great crash of shields that met. Next rose up a great moaning of them that were stricken down, and shouting of the conquerors; and the ground ran with blood. As when two torrents, swollen with rains of winter, join their waters in a hollow ravine at the meeting of the glens, and the shepherds hear the din far off among the hills, even so, with a mighty noise and great confusion, did the two armies meet.

Then did the Greeks beat back the men of Troy. And each of the chiefs slew a foe; but there was none like Diomed, who raged through the battle so furiously that you could not tell with which host he was, whether with the Greeks or with the sons of Troy. Then Pandarus aimed an arrow at him, and smote him in the right shoulder as he was rushing forward, and cried aloud: "On, great-hearted sons of Troy, the bravest of the Greeks is wounded! Soon, methinks, will his strength fail him, unless Apollo has deceived me."

So he spake exulting, but the arrow quelled not Diomed. Only he leapt down from the chariot, and spake to Sthenelus, his charioteer, "Come down, and draw this arrow from my shoulder." Then Sthenelus drew it, and the blood spurted out from the wound. And Diomed prayed to Athene: "O Goddess, if ever thou didst love my father, and stand beside him in the fiery war, be thou a friend to me also; let me come within a spear's cast of this man who hath wounded me, and who boasteth himself over me, saying that I shall not long look upon the shining of the sun."

Sthen'-e-lus.

So he prayed, and Athene heard; and she made light his hands and his feet, and stood beside him, and spake: "Be bold now, O Diomed, and fight with the men of Troy! I have breathed into thy heart the spirit that was in thy father, and I have taken away the mist that was upon thy eyes, that thou mayest know god from man. Fight not thou with any of the immortals, if a god should come in thy way; only if Aphrodite comes into the battle, her thou mayest wound."

So spake Athene, and went her way; and Diomed turned back to the battle, and mingled with the foremost. Eager he had been before to fight, but now his eagerness was increased threefold. Even as a lion whom a shepherd wounds a little as he leaps into the fold, but kills not, and the man escapes into his house, and the sheep flee in their terror, falling huddled in a heap, even so did Diomed rage among the men of Troy.

Æneas saw him, and thought how he might stay him in his course. So he passed through the host till he found Pandarus. "Pandarus," he said, "where are thy bow and arrows? See how this man deals death through the ranks. Send a shaft at him, first making thy prayer to Zeus."

Æ-ne'-as.

Then Pandarus answered: "This man, methinks, is Diomed. The shield and the helmet and the horses are his. And yet I know not whether he is not a god. Some god, at least, stands by him and guards him. But now I sent an arrow at him, and smote him on the shoulder, right through the corselet, and thought that I had slain him; but lo! I have harmed him not at all. And now I know not what to do, for here I have no chariot. I came, trusting in my bow, and lo! it has failed me these two times. Two of the chiefs I have hit, Menelaus and Diomed, and from each have seen the red blood flow, yet have I not harmed them. Surely, if ever I return safe to my home, I will break this useless bow."

"Nay," said Æneas, "talk not thus. Climb into my chariot, and see what horses we have in Troy. They will carry us safe to the city, even should Diomed prevail against us. Take thou the rein and the whip, and I will fight; or, if thou wilt, fight thou, and I will drive."

"Nay," said Pandarus, "let the horses have the driver whom they know. It might lose us both, should we turn to flee, and they linger or start aside, missing their master's voice."

So Pandarus mounted the chariot, and they drove together against Diomed. And Sthenelus saw them coming, and said to his comrades: "I see two mighty warriors. It would be well that we should go back to our chariot."

But Diomed frowned, and said: "Talk not of going back. Thou wilt talk in vain to me. As for my chariot, I care not for it. As I am will I go against these men. Both shall not return safe, even if one should escape. But do thou stay my chariot where it is, tying the reins to the rail; and if I slay these men, mount the chariot of Æneas and drive it into the host of the Greeks, There are no horses under the sun such as these, for they are of the breed which Zeus himself gave to King Tros."

Meanwhile Pandarus and Æneas were coming near, and Pandarus cast his spear. Right through the shield of Diomed it passed, and reached the corselet, and Pandarus cried:—

"Thou art hit in the loin. This, methinks, will lay thee low."

"Nay," said Diomed, "thou hast missed and not hit at all."

And as he spake he threw his spear. Through nose and teeth and tongue it passed, and stood out below the chin. Headlong from the chariot he fell, and his armour clashed about him. Straightway Æneas leapt off with spear and shield to guard the body of his friend, and stood as a lion stands over a carcass. But Diomed lifted a great stone, such as two men of our day could scarcely carry, and cast it. It struck Æneas on the hip, crushing the bone. The hero stooped on his knee, clutching the ground with his hand, and darkness covered his eyes. That hour he would have perished, but his mother Aphrodite caught him in her white arms, and threw her veil about him. But even so, Diomed was loath to let his foe escape, and he rushed on her and wounded her on the wrist, and the blood gushed out—such blood as flows in the veins of the immortal gods, who eat not the meat and drink not the drink of men. With a loud shriek she dropped her son, but Apollo caught him up and covered him with a dark mist, lest perchance one of the Greeks should spy him and slay him.

But Diomed called aloud after Aphrodite: "Haste thee from the battle, daughter of Zeus. It is enough for thee to beguile weak women."

Wildly did the goddess rush from the battle. And Iris, swift as the winds, took her by the hand, and led her out of the press, for she was tormented with the pain. She found Ares on the left of the field, and knelt before him, begging for his horses with many prayers. "Help me, dear brother," she said, "and lend me thy horses to carry me to Olympus, for I am tormented with a wound which a mortal man gave me, even Diomed, who would fight with Father Zeus himself."

A'-res.

Then Ares gave her his chariot, and Iris took the reins, and touched the horses with the whip. Speedily came they to Olympus, and then Iris reined in the horses, and Aphrodite fell on the lap of her mother Dione, who took her daughter in her arms, and caressed her, saying:—

"Dear child, which of the immortals hath harmed thee thus?"

Aphrodite answered, "No immortal hath done it, but a mortal man, even Diomed, who now fighteth with the immortal gods."

But Dione answered: "Bear up and endure thy pain, for many who dwell in Olympus have suffered pain at the hands of mortal men."

Di-o'-ne.

So spake she, and wiped the moisture from the wound with both her hands, and the grievous hurt was healed. But Hera and Athene looked on and mocked. And Athene said to Zeus, "Now hath thy daughter been moving one of the Greek women to follow the Trojans whom she loveth so well, and lo! she hath wounded her hand with the pin of a golden brooch."

But the father smiled, and called Aphrodite to him, and said, "My child, deeds of war are not for thee, but love and marriage; leave the rest to Athene and Ares."

Meanwhile Diomed sprang upon Æneas, though he knew that Apollo himself held him. He regarded not the god, for he was eager to slay the hero and to strip off his arms. Thrice he sprang, and thrice Apollo dashed back his shining shield. The fourth time Apollo warned him with awful words, "Beware, Diomed, and fall back, nor think to match thyself with gods." But Apollo carried Æneas out of the battle, and laid him down in his own temple in the citadel of Troy, and there he was healed of his wound. And all the while the Trojans and the Greeks were fighting, as they thought, about his body, for Apollo had made a likeness of the hero and thrown it down in their midst. Then Sarpedon spake to Hector with bitter words:—

Sar-pe'-don.

"Where are thy boasts, Hector? Thou saidst that thou couldst guard thy city, without thy people or thy allies, thou alone, with thy brothers and thy brothers-in-law. But I cannot see even one of them. They go and hide themselves, as dogs before a lion. It is we, your allies, who maintain the battle. I have come from far to help thy people, nor do I shrink from the fight, but thou shouldst do thy part."

And the words stung Hector to the heart. He leapt from his chariot and went through the host, urging them to the battle. And on the other side the Greeks strengthened themselves. But Ares brought back Æneas whole from his wound, and gave him courage and might. Right glad were his comrades to see him, nor did they ask him any question; scant leisure was there for questions that day. Then were done many valiant deeds nor did any bear himself more bravely than Æneas.

But all the while Hector, with Ares at his side, dealt death and destruction through the ranks of the Greeks. Hera and Athene saw him where they sat on the top of Olympus, and were wroth. So they went to Father Zeus, and prayed that it might be lawful to them to stop him in his fury. And Zeus said, "Be it as you will." So they yoked the horses to the chariot of Hera and passed down to earth, the horses flying at every stride over so much space as a man sees who sits upon a cliff and looks across the sea to where it meets the sky. They alighted on the spot where the two rivers join their streams. There they loosed the horses from the yoke, and then sped like doves to where the bravest of the Greeks stood round King Diomed. There Hera took the shape of Stentor with the lungs of bronze, whose voice was as the voice of fifty men, and cried: "Shame, men of Greece! When Achilles went to the battle, the men of Troy came not beyond the gates, but now they fight far from the city, even by the ships." But Athene went to Diomed, where he stood wiping away the blood from the wound where Pandarus had struck him with the arrow. And she spake: "Surely the son of Tydeus is little like to his sire. Small of stature was he, but a keen fighter. But thou—whether it be weariness or fear that keeps thee back I know not—canst scarcely be a true son of Tydeus."

Ty'-deus.

But Diomed answered: "Nay, great goddess, for I know thee who thou art, daughter of Zeus, it is not weariness or fear that keeps me back. 'Tis thy own command that I heed. Thou didst bid me fight with none other of the immortal gods but only with Aphrodite, should she come to the battle. Therefore I give place, for I see Ares lording it through the ranks of war."