not the gifts of golden Aphrodite, for by his own desire can no man
win the love and beauty that the goddess gives. But let me now do
battle with Menelaus. Make the Trojans and the men of Greece sit down,
while Menelaus and I fight for Helen. Let him who is conqueror have
her and all that is hers for his own, and let the others take an oath
of friendship so that the Greeks may depart in peace to their own
land, and in peace the Trojans dwell in Troy."
Greatly did Hector rejoice at his brother's word. His spear grasped
by the middle, he went through the Trojan ranks and bid the warriors
hold back.
But as he went, the Greeks shot arrows at brave Hector and cast
stones.
"Hold! hold! ye Greeks," called Agamemnon. "Hector of the glancing
helm hath somewhat to say to us."
In silence, then, the two armies stood, while Hector told them the
words of Paris his brother.
When they had heard him, Menelaus spoke:
"Many ills have ye endured," he said, "for my sake and because of the
sins of Paris. Yet now, I think, the end of this long war hath come.
Let us fight, then, and death and fate shall decide which of us shall
die. Let us offer sacrifice now to Zeus, and call hither Priam, King
of Troy. I fear for the faith of his sons, Paris and Hector, but Priam
is an old man and will not break faith."
Then were the Greeks and the Trojans glad. They came down from their
chariots, and took off their arms, and laid them on the ground, while
heralds went to tell Priam and to fetch lambs and a ram for the
sacrifice.
While they went, Hera sent to Troy Iris, her messenger, in the guise
of the fairest daughter of Priam.
To the hall where Helen sat came lovely Iris. And there she found
Helen, fairest of women, her white arms swiftly moving back and
forward as she wove a great purple web of double wool, and wrought
thereon pictures of many battles of the Greeks and the men of Troy.
"Come hither, dear lady," said Iris, "and see a wondrous thing. For
they that so fiercely fought with each other, now sit in silence. The
battle is stayed; they lean upon their shields, and their tall spears
are thrust in the earth by their sides. But for thee are Menelaus and
Paris now going to fight, and thou shalt be the wife of the
conqueror."
So spake lovely Iris, and into the sleeping heart of Helen there came
remembrance, and a hungry longing for her old home, and for Menelaus,
and her father and mother, and for little Hermione, her child.
The tears rolled down her cheeks, but quickly she hid her face with a
veil of fair linen, and hastened out, with her two handmaidens, to the
place where the two armies lay.
At the Scæan gates sat Priam and other old warriors.
As Helen, in her fair white robes, drew near, the old men marveled at
her loveliness.
"Small wonder is it," said they, "that Trojans and Greeks should
suffer hardships and lay down their lives for one so beautiful. Yet
well would it be for her to sail away upon the Greek ships rather than
stay here to bring trouble upon us now, and upon our children
hereafter."
Then Priam called to Helen:
"Come hither, dear child, and sit beside me, that thou may'st see the
man who once was thy husband, and thy kinsmen, and thy friends. No
blame do I give to thee for all our woes, but only to the gods who
have chosen thee to be the cause of all this bloodshed."
Then did Priam ask her the names of the mighty heroes who stood by
their spears in the Grecian ranks, and Helen, making answer to him,
said:
"Dear father of Paris, my lord, would that I had died ere I left my
own land and my little child, and all those that I loved, and followed
thy son hither. Agamemnon, a goodly king and a mighty spearsman, is
the Greek warrior whose name thou dost ask. Brother of him who was my
husband is he. Ah! shameless me, who did leave mine own."
Of Odysseus also, and of many another warrior of great stature and
brave looks, did Priam make inquiry. And Helen told him all she knew,
while tears of longing stood in her eyes.
"My two brethren, Castor, tamer of horses, and Polydeuces, the skilful
boxer, I do not see," she said; "mayhap they have not crossed the
sea." For she knew not that her two brothers lay dead in her own
beautiful land.
Then was the sacrifice to Zeus offered, and the vows made between
Agamemnon and Priam, King of Troy.
When the sacrifice and vows were accomplished, Priam in haste mounted
his chariot and drove away.
"Verily will I return to windy Ilios," said the old man, "for I cannot
bear to watch the fight between Menelaus and my own dear son. But
only Zeus and the gods know which one of them is to fall."
Then Hector and Odysseus marked out a space for the fight, and into a
bronze helmet Hector placed two pebbles and shook them in the helmet,
looking behind him. And the pebble of Paris leapt out the first, so
that to him fell the lot to cast first his spear of bronze.
Then did Paris arm himself. Greaves of beauteous fashioning he placed
upon his legs, and fastened them with silver ankle-clasps. Over his
shoulders he put his silver-studded sword of bronze and his great
shield. On his head he placed a helmet with nodding crest of
horsehair, and in his hand he grasped his strong spear. In like manner
did Menelaus arm himself.
One moment did they stand face to face, wrath and hatred in their
hearts, their spears gripped firm in their hands.
Then did Paris hurl his spear and smite the shield of Menelaus. But
the shield was strong and the spear could not pierce it.
His hand lifted up for the cast, Menelaus looked upwards and called to
Zeus.
"Grant me revenge, great Zeus!" he cried. "On him that hath done me
grievous wrong, grant me vengeance, so that all men hereafter may
shudder to wrong one who hath treated him as his honored guest."
Then hurled he his mighty spear. Through the bright shield it went,
and through the shining breastplate, tearing the tunic of Paris on his
thigh. But Paris swerved aside, and so escaped death.
Then Menelaus drew his silver-studded sword and drove it crashing down
upon the helmet of Paris. But in four pieces was the sword shattered,
and fell from the hand of Menelaus.
"Surely art thou the most cruel of all the gods, Zeus!" angrily he
cried. "My spear is cast in vain, and my sword shattered, and my
vengeance is still to come!"
So saying, he leapt upon Paris. By the crest on his helmet he seized
him, and, swinging him round, he dragged him towards the Greek host.
The embroidered strap beneath the helmet of Paris strangled him, and
so he would have shamefully died, had not Aphrodite marked his plight.
Swiftly did she burst the leather strap, and the helmet was left
empty in the grasp of Menelaus.
Casting the empty helmet, with a swing, to his comrades, Menelaus
sprang back, ready, with another spear, to slay his enemy.
But Aphrodite snatched Paris up, and in thick mist she hid him, and
bore him away to his own home. Like a wild beast Menelaus strode
through the host, searching for him. But no Trojan would have hidden
him, for with a bitter hatred did the men of Troy hate Paris, most
beautiful of mortal men.
Then said Agamemnon:
"Hearken to me, ye Trojans. Now hath Menelaus gained the victory. Give
us back Helen, and all that is hers, and pay me the recompense that ye
owe me for all the evil days that are gone."
So spake he, and glad were the shouts of the Greeks as they heard the
words of their king.
IV
HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE
From where the battle still raged went Hector, son of Priam. At the
oak-tree by the gates of Troy there came running to meet him wives and
daughters of those who fought. For eagerly did they long for tidings
of many a warrior who now lay dead on the field.
When he reached the beautiful, many-pillared palace of his father, his
mother came to meet him.
His hand she took in hers, and gently spoke she to him.
"Art thou wearied that thou hast left the battle, Hector, my son?" she
said. "Let me bring thee wine that thou may'st be refreshed and yet
gain strength."
"Bring me no wine, dear mother," said Hector, "lest it take from me
the strength and courage that I have. Rather go thou to the temple of
Athene and offer her sacrifices, beseeching that she will have mercy
on Troy and on the wives of the Trojans and their little children. So
may she hold back Diomedes the destroyer. I go to Paris--would that he
were dead!"
And the mother of Hector straightway, with other old women, the
mothers of heroes, offered sacrifices and prayers to Athene. But
Athene paid no heed.
To the palace of Paris, his mighty bronze spear in his hand, then
strode Hector.
Paris, the golden-haired, sat in a room with Helen, idly handling his
shining shield and breastplate and curved bow.
In bitter scorn spoke Hector to his brother.
"Our people die in battle for thy sake!" he cried, "while here thou
sittest idle. Up then, ere the enemies that thou hast made for us burn
our city to the ground!"
And Paris answered:
"Justly dost thou chide me, Hector. Even now hath Helen urged me to
play the man and go back to battle. Only let me put on my armor, and
soon will I overtake thee."
Never a word did Hector answer him.
But to Hector did Helen then speak:
"Brother Hector," she said, "unworthy am I to be sister of thine.
Would that I had died on the day I was born, or would that the gods
who have brought me this evil had given me for a husband one who was
shamed by reproach and who feared dishonor. Rest thee here, my
brother, who hast suffered so much for the sake of wretched me and for
the sin of Paris. Well I know that for us cometh punishment of which
men will sing in the far-off years that are yet to come."
"Of thy love, ask me not to stay, Helen," answered Hector. "For to
help the men of Troy is my whole heart set, and they are now in want
of me. But rouse this fellow, and make him hasten after me. I go now
to see my dear wife and my babe, for I know not whether I shall return
to them again."
In his own house Hector found not his fair wife Andromache, nor their
little babe.
"Whither went thy mistress?" he asked in eagerness of the
serving-women.
"Truly, my lord," answered one, "tidings came to us that the Trojans
were sorely pressed and that with the Greeks was the victory. So then
did Andromache, like one frenzied, hasten with her child and his nurse
to the walls that she might see somewhat of what befell. There, on the
tower, she stands now, weeping and wailing."
Back through the streets by which he had come then hastened Hector.
And as he drew near the gates, Andromache, who had spied him from
afar, ran to meet him.
As, hand clasped in hand, Andromache and Hector stood, Hector looked
silently at the beautiful babe in his nurse's arms, and smiled.
Astyanax, "The City King," those of Troy called the child, because it
was Hector his father who saved the city.
Then said Andromache:
"Dear lord, thy courage will bring thee death. Hast thou no pity for
this babe nor for thy wife, who so soon shall be thy widow? Better
would it be for me to die if to thee death should come. For if I lose
thee, then sorrow must for evermore be mine. No father nor mother have
I, and on one day were my seven brothers slain. Father and mother and
brother art thou to me, Hector, and my dear loved husband as well.
Have pity now, and stay with thy wife and thy little child."
"All these things know I well, my wife," answered Hector, "but black
shame would be mine were I to shrink like a coward from battle. Ever
it hath been mine to be where the fight was fiercest, and to win glory
for my father's name, and for my own. But soon will that glory be
gone, for my heart doth tell me that Troy must fall. Yet for the
sorrows of the Trojans, and of my own father and mother and brethren,
and of the many heroes that must perish, grieve I less bitterly than
for the anguish that must come upon thee on that day when thou no
longer hast a husband to fight for thee and a Greek leads thee away a
prisoner. May the earth be heaped up high above me ere I hear thy
crying, Andromache!"
So spake Hector, and stretched out his arms to take his boy.
But from his father's bronze helmet with its fiercely nodding plume of
horsehair the babe shrank back in terror and hid his face in his
nurse's breast. Then did the little City King's father and his sweet
mother laugh aloud, and on the ground Hector laid his helmet, and
taking his little son in his arms he kissed him and gently dandled
him. And as he did so, thus Hector prayed to Zeus and all the gods:
"O Zeus and all ye gods, grant that my son may be a brave warrior and
a great king in Troyland. Let men say of him when he returns from
battle, 'Far greater is he than his father,' and may he gladden his
mother's heart."
Then did Hector lay his babe in Andromache's arms, and she held him to
her bosom, smiling through her tears.
Full of love and pity and tenderness was the heart of Hector, and
gently he caressed her and said:
"Dear one, I pray thee be not of over-sorrowful heart. No man shall
slay me ere the time appointed for my death hath come. Go home and
busy thyself with loom and distaff and see to the work of thy maidens.
But war is for us men, and of all those who dwell in Troyland, most of
all for me."
So spake Hector, and on his head again he placed his crested helmet.
And his wife went home, many times looking back to watch him she loved
going forth to battle, with her eyes half blinded by her tears.
Not far behind Hector followed Paris, his armor glittering like the
sun, and with a laugh on the face that was more full of beauty than
that of any other man on earth. Like a noble charger that has broken
its bonds and gallops exultingly across the plain, so did Paris stride
onward.
"I fear I have delayed thee," he said to his brother when he overtook
him.
"No man can speak lightly of thy courage," answered Hector, "only thou
hast brought shame on thyself by holding back from battle. But now let
us go forward, and may the gods give the Greeks into our hands."
So went Hector and Paris together into battle, and many a Greek fell
before them on that day.
V
HOW PATROCLUS FOUGHT AND DIED
While round the dark ships of Greece the fierce fight raged, Achilles,
from afar, listened unmoved to the din of battle, and watched with
stony eyes the men of Greece as they fell and died on the reddened
ground.
To him came Patroclus.
"Why dost thou weep, Patroclus?" asked Achilles. "Like a fond little
maid art thou that runs by her mother's side, plucking at her gown,
hindering her as she walks, and with tearful eyes looking up at her
until the mother lifts her in her arms. Like her, Patroclus, dost thou
softly weep."
Then Patroclus, heavily groaning, made answer:
"Among the ships lie the bravest and best of the men of Greece, sore
wounded or dead. Pitiless art thou, Achilles, pitiless and
unforgiving. Yet if thou dost still hold back from the battle, give
me, I pray thee, thine armor, and send me forth in thy stead.
Perchance the Trojans may take me for the mighty Achilles, and even
now the victory be ours."
Then said Achilles, and heavy was his heart within him:
"These Greeks took from me my well-won prize, Patroclus. Yet let the
past be past; no man may keep his anger for ever. I have said that
until the men of Troy come to burn my own ships I will hold me back
from the battle. But take you my armor; lead my men in the fight, and
drive from the ships the men of Troy. But to others leave it to chase
them across the plain."
Even as Achilles spoke, the strength of mighty Ajax had come to an
end, and with furious rush did the Trojans board the ships. In their
hands they bore blazing torches, and up to the sky rushed the fiercely
roaring flames.
Then cried Achilles, smiting his thighs:
"Haste thee, Patroclus! They burn the ships! Arm thyself speedily, and
I will call my men!"
Corslet and shield and helmet did Patroclus swiftly don, and girded on
the silver-studded sword and took two strong lances in his hand.
In the chariot of Achilles he mounted, and Automedon, best and bravest
of charioteers, took the reins.
Swift as the wild west wind were Bayard and Piebald, the two horses of
Achilles, and in the side harness was Pedasus, a horse only less swift
than they.
Gladly did the men of Achilles meet his call to arms, for fierce as
wolves were they.
"Many times hast thou blamed me," cried Achilles, "because in my
wrath I kept ye back from battle. Here for ye now is a mighty fight,
such as ye love."
To battle they went, and while Patroclus led them forth, Achilles in
his tent offered up an offering to Zeus.
Like wasps that pour forth from their nests by the wayside to sting
the boys who have stoned them, so now did the Greeks swarm from their
ships.
Before the sword of Patroclus fell a mighty warrior, and when the men
of Troy saw the shining armor of Achilles in his own chariot their
hearts sank within them.
Out of the ships were they driven, the fire was quenched, and back to
the trench rolled the tide of battle. In the trench writhed many a
horse and many a man in dying agonies. But clear across it leaped the
horses of Achilles, and close to the walls of Troy did Patroclus drive
brave Hector before him.
His chariot then he turned, and headed off the fleeing Trojans,
driving them down to the ships. Before the furious rush of his swift
steeds, other horses were borne off their feet, other chariots cast in
ruins on the ground, and men crushed to death under his wheels. Chief
after chief did Patroclus slay. A mighty destroyer was he that day.
One only of the chiefs of Troy kept his courage before the destroyer
who wore the shining arms of Achilles.
"Shame on ye!" cried Sarpedon to his men, "whither do ye flee? I
myself will fight this man who deals death and destruction to the
Trojan host."
From their chariots leaped Sarpedon and Patroclus.
With the first cast of his spear Patroelus missed Sarpedon, but slew
his charioteer. Then did Sarpedon cast, and his spear whizzed past
Patroclus, and smote the good horse Pedasus. With a dreadful scream
Pedasus fell, kicking and struggling, in the dust. This way and that
did the other two horses plunge and rear, until the yoke creaked and
the reins became entangled. But the charioteer leaped down, with his
sword slashed clear the traces from Pedasus, and the horses righted
themselves.
Once again did Sarpedon cast his spear, and the point flew over the
left shoulder of Patroclus. But Patroclus missed not. Through the
heart of Sarpedon sped the fiercely hurled spear, and like a slim tree
before the axe of the wood-cutter he fell, his dying hands clutching
at the bloody dust.
Furious was the combat then over the body of Sarpedon. One brave
warrior after another did Patroclus lay dead.
And more terrible still was the fight because in the ranks of the men
of Troy there fought now, in all-devouring wrath, the god Apollo.
Nine men, good warriors all, did Patroclus slay; then, waxing bolder,
he tried to climb the very walls of Troy.
Three times did Apollo thrust him back, and when, a fourth time, he
attacked, the god cried aloud to him in anger, warning him not to dare
so much.
Against Patroclus did Hector then drive his war-horses, but Patroclus,
leaping from his chariot, hurled at Hector a jagged stone. In the eyes
it smote the charioteer of Hector, and the slain man dropped to the
ground.
"How nimble a man is this!" jeered Patroclus. "How lightly he diveth!
Were this the sea, how good an oyster-seeker would this fellow be!"
Then from his chariot leaped Hector and met Patroclus, and the noise
of the battle was as the noise of a mighty gale in the forest when
great trees fall crashing to the ground.
When the sun went down, victory was with the Greeks. Three mighty
charges did Patroclus make, and each time he slew nine men. But when,
a fourth time, he charged, Apollo met him. In thick mist he met him,
and Patroclus knew not that he fought with a god. With a fierce
down-stroke from behind, Apollo smote his broad shoulders, and from
off his head the helmet of Achilles fell with a clang, rattling under
the hoofs of the horses. Before the smiting of the god, Patroclus
stood stricken, stupid and amazed. Shattered in his hands was the
spear of Achilles, and his mighty shield clanged on the ground.
Ere he could know who was the smiter, a Trojan ally drove a spear
between his shoulders, and Patroclus, sore wounded, fell back.
Marking his dismay, Hector pressed forward, and clean through his
body drove his bronze spear. With a crash Patroclus fell.
"Thou that didst boast that thou wouldst sack my town, here shall
vultures devour thee!" cried Hector.
And in a faint voice Patroclus made answer:
"Not to thee do I owe my doom, great Hector. Twenty such as thou would
I have fought and conquered, but the gods have slain me. Yet verily I
tell thee that thou thyself hast not long to live. Even now doth Death
stand beside thee!"
As he spoke, the shadow of Death fell upon Patroclus. No more in his
ears roared the din of battle; still and silent for ever he lay.
VI
THE ROUSING OF ACHILLES
Fierce had been the fight before Patroclus died. More fiercely yet it
raged when he lay dead.
From his body did Hector take the arms of Achilles, and the dead
Patroclus would the Trojans fain have dragged to their city, there to
bring shame to him and to all the Greek host.
But for him fought the Greeks, until the earth was wet with blood and
the very skies echoed the clang of battle.
To Achilles came Antilochos, a messenger fleet of foot.
"Fallen is Patroclus!" he cried, "and around his naked body do they
fight, for his armor is held by Hector."
Then did Achilles moan aloud. On the ground he lay, and in his hair he
poured black ashes. And the sound of his terrible lament was heard by
his mother, Thetis, the goddess, as she sat in her palace down under
the depths of the green sea.
Up from under the waves swiftly came she to Achilles, and tenderly did
she listen while he poured forth to her the tale of the death of his
dear comrade.
Then said Thetis:
"Not long, methinks, shall Hector glory in the armor that was thine,
for Death presseth hard upon him. Go not forth to battle, my son,
until I return, bearing with me new and fair armor for thee."
But when Thetis had departed, to Achilles in his sorrow came Iris,
fair messenger of the gods.
"Unto windy Ilios will the Trojans drag the body of Patroclus unless
thou comest now. Thou needst not fight, Achilles, only show thyself to
the men of Troy, for sore is the need of Patroclus thy friend."
Then, all unarmed, did Achilles go forth, and stood beside the trench.
With a mighty voice he shouted, and at the sound of his voice terror
fell upon the Trojans. Backward in flight they went, and from among
the dead did the Greeks draw the body of Patroclus, and hot were the
tears that Achilles shed for the friend whom he had sent forth to
battle.
All that night, in the house of the Immortals, resounded the clang of
hammer on anvil as Hephaistus, the lame god, fashioned new arms for
Achilles.
Bronze and silver and gold he threw in his fire, and golden
handmaidens helped their master to wield the great bellows, and to
send on the crucibles blasts that made the ruddy flames dance.
No fairer shield was ever borne by man than that which Hephaistus made
for Achilles. For him also he wrought a corslet brighter than a flame
of fire, and a helmet with a golden crest.
And in the morning light did Thetis dart down from snowy Olympus,
bearing in her arms the splendid gift of a god.
Glad was Achilles as he put on the armor, and terrible was his war-cry
as he roused the Greek warriors. No man, however sore his wounds, held
back when the voice of Achilles called him to the fight once again.
Wounded was Agamemnon, overlord of the Greeks, but forth also came he.
And there, while the sun rose on many a warrior who would fight no
more, did Achilles and Agamemnon speak as friends once again, their
long strife ended.
Hungry for war, with Achilles as their leader, did the Greeks then
meet the Trojans on the plain. And as a fierce fire rages through the
forest, its flames driven by the wind, so did Achilles in his wrath
drive through the host of Troy.
Down to the Scamander he drove the fleeing Trojans, and the water
reddened with blood, as he smote and spared not.
Merciless was Achilles; pitilessly did he exult as one brave man after
another was sent by him to dye red the swift flood of the Scamander.
At length, at his lack of mercy, did even the river grow wrathful.
"Choked is my stream with dead men!" it cried, "and still thou
slayest!"