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.
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 Juno 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:--
"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 seers, who knew what had been, and what
was, and what was to come, and spake:--
"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 sovereign 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 to Chryse 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 ill beseem the
lord of all the host that he alone should 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 herein, and with her a hundred victims, and let some chief go with the
ship, and see that all things be rightly done."
Then cried Achilles, and his face was as 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 harried oxen or sheep
of mine in fertile Phthia, for many murky mountains lie between, and a
great breadth of roaring sea. But I have been fighting in thy cause, and
that of thy brother Menelaus. 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,--'a little
thing, but dear.' 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 dishonored."
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, the god of council, 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 Briseïs, and fetch her myself,
if need be, that all may know that I am sovereign lord here in the host of
the Greeks."
Then Achilles was mad with anger, and he thought in his heart, "Shall I
arise and slay this caitiff, 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 Juno, who loved both this chieftain and that, had sent her), and
caught him by the long locks of his yellow hair. But Achilles marveled
much to feel the mighty grasp, and turned and looked, and knew the
goddess, but no one else in the assembly might 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."
But Athene said, "Nay, but I am come from heaven to abate thy wrath, if
thou wilt hear me; white-armed Juno 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 refrain thyself and do my bidding."
Then Achilles answered, "I will abide by thy command for all my wrath, for
the man who hearkens to the immortal gods is also heard of 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! 'Tis a race of dastards that thou rulest, or this had been thy
last wrong. But 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, but
now the sons of the Greeks bear it in their hands, even they who maintain
the laws of Zeus; as surely as it shall never again have bark, or leaves,
or shoot, 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, all embossed with studs of gold,
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 counseled 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. 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 were a slave and a coward if I owned thee as my
lord. Not so; 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. Chryseïs 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 offerings to the Gods; and the sweet
savor 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,--
"Heralds, go to the tents of Achilles, and fetch the maiden Briseïs. But
if he will not let her go, say that I will come myself with many others to
fetch her; so will it 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 (now Patroclus was 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, against the day when he shall have sore need of me to save his hosts
from destruction. Fool that he is, who knoweth not to look back and to
look forward, that his people may be safe!"
Then Patroclus brought forth the maiden from her tent, and gave her to the
heralds. And they led her away; but it was sorely against her will that
she went. 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 vapor rises, and came to where he
was weeping, and stroked him with her hand, and called him by his name.
"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 in my father's hall 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."
And his mother answered him, "Surely thine is an evil lot, my son. This
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 cometh 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 Chryseïs. 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, and poured out the water of
purification, and taken up handfuls of bruised barley, 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 cast the barley on the heads of the cattle, and slew them, and
flayed them, and they cut out the thigh-bones and wrapped them up in folds
of fat, and laid raw morsels on them. These the priest burned on fagots,
pouring on sparkling wine; and the young men stood by, having the
five-pronged forks in their hands. And when the thighs were consumed, 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 libations 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 favoring wind, and the dark blue wave hissed
about the stem of 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.
THE FIGHT BETWEEN PARIS AND MENELAUS
By Walter C. Perry
In obedience to the summons of their leaders, the great host of the
Achaians assembled on the plain of the flowing river Scamander,
innumerable as the leaves and flowers in the season of spring. And in the
midst of them stood the great ruler, Agamemnon: his head and eyes like
those of Loud-thundering Zeus; his waist like that of the Man-slaying
Mars; and with a breast like that of Neptune, the Ruler of the Sea. As the
mail-clad Argives marched on, and rushed across the plain, the earth
groaned beneath them.
Now Ægis-bearing Zeus sent his messenger, Iris, to the assembly of the
Trojans, with the voice of Polites, son of Priam, their sentinel at
Priam's gate, and spake thus to Hector: "This is no time for idle words,
for stern war is already upon you. But to thee, O Hector, do I especially
speak; and do thou obey my voice! As thou hast many allies, of diverse
nations and tongues, let each chief marshal and command his own people,
and lead them forth to war."
And the glorious Hector knew the voice of the messenger, and hastened to
obey. He straightway dissolved the assembly. The gates of Troy were then
thrown open, and the Trojan host rushed forth, with a mighty din. The
blameless Hector, with his glancing helmet, was foremost of all, and led
the bravest and strongest of the men; Æneas, son of the goddess Aphrodite,
or Venus, born amidst the peaks of Ida, led the Dardans; and of the other
leaders of the allies, the most famous were Sarpedon, son of Zeus, and
blameless Glaucus, who led the Lycians, from distant Lycia, by the
swift-eddying Xanthus.
And, as the countless hosts advanced, to meet each other in deadly
conflict, the Trojans marched with noisy shouts, like the clamor of the
cranes, when they fly to the streams of Oceanus, in the early morning,
screaming, and bringing death and destruction to the Pigmy men; but the
Achaieans came on in silence, breathing dauntless courage.
But when they came near to each other, the goodly Paris went before the
front rank of the Trojans, and brandished his spear, and challenged all
the Argive chiefs to single combat. When the warlike Menelaus, whom Paris
had so deeply wronged by carrying off his wife, the beautiful Helen, saw
Paris there, he was glad, thinking that he should now punish the false
traitor for his wickedness. So he leaped from his chariot, in his clanging
armor, and advanced to meet the challenger. And Paris saw him; and pale
fear got hold of him, like to a man who has trodden on a serpent, in a
wooded valley among the mountains; and he shrank back among the lordly
Trojans.
His brother Hector saw him, and reproached him with scornful words. "Base
deceiver of women, beautiful in appearance and favor, but coward at heart!
would that thou hadst never been born, or that thou hadst died unwedded!
Now thou seest what kind of man is he, whose lovely wife thou hast carried
off by stealth. Of no avail will be thy sounding lyre, thy beauteous face
and curling hair, or all the gifts of golden Venus, when thou liest
groveling in the dust."
And the goodly Paris answered him, "Hector, thou rightly chidest me, and
not more than I deserve. _Thy_ heart is ever undaunted, and keen as the
axe, which cutteth the strong oak, in the hands of a skillful shipwright.
But reproach me not for the lovely gifts of golden Aphrodite; for no man
can obtain them by wishing for them, for they are among the precious gifts
of the blessed Gods. But if thou desirest that I should do battle with the
valiant Menelaus, make the Trojans and the Achaians sit down; and set me
and Menelaus in the midst, to fight for Helen and for all the treasures
which were taken away with her. And whichever of us twain shall be the
victor, let him bear away the woman and the treasure, and take them home."
So spake he, and they all kept silence; but Menelaus of the loud war-cry
stood forward amongst the Greeks and made harangue, "Hearken now to me,
for my heart hath endured the greatest grief. Whosoever of us twain shall
fall, there let him lie. But now bring a goodly sacrifice, a white ram and
a black ewe, for the Earth and for the Sun; and another for
Loud-thundering Zeus; and summon hither the great King Priam, that he may
take the pledge; for his sons are reckless and faithless; young men's
hearts are too frivolous and fickle, but an old man looketh to the future
and the past."
And Hector sent heralds to the city, to fetch two lambs, and to summon
Priam; while Agamemnon sent Talthybius for a ram. Now Iris, in Troy, came
to Helen, in the semblance of Laodice, Paris's sister, fairest of Priam's
daughters, wife of Helicaon, the son of Antenor. She found Helen weaving a
great purple web, on which she was embroidering the battles of the Argives
and the Trojans. The swift-footed Iris came near her, and said, "Come
hither, dear lady, come with me, to see the wondrous deeds of the
horse-taming Trojans and the mail-clad Argives; for now the battle is
suspended, while Paris, and Menelaus, dear to Mars, will fight alone with
their spears, for _thee_; and thou wilt be the fair wife of the victor."
So Iris spoke, and put into Helen's bosom a longing for her former
husband, and for her darling daughter. Then Helen veiled her face, and
went straightway to the Scæan Gate, letting fall a tear; and her two
handmaidens, Æthre and Clymene, followed her.
On the tower above the Scæan Gate, she found the Trojan elders. These, on
account of their age, had ceased from war, but were still good orators,
with voices like the grasshoppers which sit upon a tree, and send forth
their lily-like voice; so sat the elders of the Trojans on the Tower. When
those ancient sages saw the fair Helen coming to them, they were
astounded, and whispered one to another, "No wonder that the Trojans and
the Achaians have suffered so many things for such a glorious woman! But,
fair as she is, let her sail away, and not stay here to trouble us and our
children after us."
But the aged King Priam addressed her kindly. "Dear Daughter! come hither,
and see thy former husband and kinsmen! I do not blame _thee_, but the
Gods, and especially Venus, by whom this sad war has been brought upon us.
But tell me who is that huge Achaian warrior? Many are taller than he, but
I have never seen a man so stately and royal." And the fair Helen, the
daughter of Zeus, replied, "O venerable Father of my lord! would that
death had been my lot, when I followed thy son to Troy, and left my home
and husband, and my dear young daughter, and all the loved companions of
my girlhood! But that was not to be, and therefore I mourn and weep. The
man of whom thou speakest is Atreides, the wide-ruling monarch Agamemnon,
who is both a stately king and a doughty warrior; he is the brother of
Menelaus my husband--shameless thing that I am!"
Then the aged Priam asked her about the other Achaian chiefs,--Ulysses,
and the gigantic Ajax, the bulwark of the host, and the godlike Idomeneus;
and the lovely Helen told him all, and said, "I see all the other
bright-eyed Achaians, and could tell their names; but two I see not, even
mine own brothers, horse-taming Castor and the boxer Pollux; peradventure
they came not with the Achaians; or if they came, they fight not, for fear
of the revilings which men heap on me--shameless that I am!" She knew not
that the earth already covered them, in Lacedæmon, their dear native land.
Now the aged Priam drove out through the Scæan Gate, with Antenor by his
side; and, when he had come to the Achaians and the Trojans, he descended
from his chariot, and stood on the Earth, the bounteous grain-giver. Then
Agamemnon, the king of men, and Ulysses, the man of many devices, rose up;
and the stately heralds brought the holy oath-offerings to the gods, and
mixed the ruddy wine in the mixing-bowl, from which they gave portions to
the Achaian and the Trojan chiefs. Agamemnon raised his hands to heaven
and prayed, "O Father Zeus, most great and glorious! O Sun, who seest and
hearest all things! O ye Rivers, and thou, Mother Earth! be ye all
witnesses to our oaths! If Paris shall kill Menelaus, then let him keep
Helen and all her possessions; but if the yellow-haired Menelaus slay
Paris, then let the Trojans give back Helen and her treasures!"
Then the lordly Agamemnon slew the lambs, and prayed again to Zeus. But
Priam spake unto the Achaians and the Trojans. "I verily will return to
breezy Ilium; for I cannot bear to see my own son engaged in deadly
conflict with the war-loving Menelaus."
Then the goodly Paris, lord of the fair-haired Helen, put on his beautiful
armor. First he set the splendid greaves upon his legs, fastened round the
ankles with silver clasps; then he donned the corslet, which he had
borrowed from his brother Lycaon; and he threw over his shoulders the
silver-studded sword-belt with his sword, and took up his mighty shield;
and upon his beauteous head he placed the helmet, with a horsehair crest,
and the plume nodded terribly; and he took a strong spear in his hand.
Then he and Menelaus stood face to face, on the ground which Hector and
Ulysses had meted out; and they brandished their spears, with wrath
against each other. Paris drew the lot to be the first to cast his
long-shafted spear; he threw it, and it struck the round shield of
Atreides Menelaus, but did not pierce it; for the point of the spear was
turned.
Then Menelaus, poising his lance, prayed to Zeus, "O Father Zeus! grant me
to take vengeance on goodly Paris, who did me such foul wrong--_me_, who
had shown him so much kindness!" He said, and hurled his strong spear,
which struck the bright shield of the son of Priam; and the sharp point
passed through it, and through his breastplate, and rent the tunic, close
to the side of his body; but Paris swerved from it, and shunned the black
fate of death. Then Menelaus drew his sword from the silver-studded
sheath, and smote on the helmet of Paris, but the sword was shattered, and
fell in pieces from his hand. Then he looked up to heaven, and exclaimed,
"O Father Zeus! thou art the most cruel of all the Gods!"
So saying, he caught Paris by his horse-hair crest, and dragged him
towards the well-greaved Achaians, and the embroidered strap of the helmet
went nigh to strangle him. But Venus, daughter of great Zeus, who loved
the beauteous Paris, drew near him, and tore the strap of leather; and the
helmet came away, empty, in the strong hand of the son of Atreus. Full of
wrath, he hurled it towards his trusty companions, and they took it up. He
then rushed back again, to slay his enemy; but golden-haired Venus, being
a goddess, easily caught up Paris, and hid him in thick darkness, and
carried him into Troy, to his high and fragrant chamber.
Venus, the golden Goddess of Love, then went to summon Helen, in the
likeness of an old woman, a wool-comber, who had worked for Helen in
Lacedæmon, and whom she greatly loved. She found the white-armed Helen on
the high tower, and spake: "Come hither to Paris, who sends for thee; he
is there in the fragrant chamber, shining in beauty--
"Not like a warrior parted from the foe,
But some fair dancer from the public show."
(Pope's Translation of the _Iliad_.)