HOW TELEMACHUS THE SON OF ODYSSEUS WAS MOVED TO GO ON A VOYAGE IN SEARCH
OF HIS FATHER AND HOW HE HEARD FROM MENELAUS AND HELEN THE TALE OF TROY
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I
This is the story of Odysseus, the most renowned of all the heroes the
Greek poets have told us of--of Odysseus, his wars and his wanderings.
And this story of Odysseus begins with his son, the youth who was called
Telemachus.
It was when Telemachus was a child of a month old that a messenger came
from Agamemnon, the Great King, bidding Odysseus betake himself to the
war against Troy that the Kings and Princes of Greece were about to
wage. The wise Odysseus, foreseeing the disasters that would befall all
that entered that war, was loth to go. And so when Agamemnon's messenger
came to the island of Ithaka where he was King, Odysseus pretended to be
mad. And that the messenger, Palamedes, might believe he was mad indeed,
he did a thing that no man ever saw being done before--he took an ass
and an ox and yoked them together to the same plough and began to plough
a field. And when he had ploughed a furrow he sowed it, not with seeds
that would grow, but with salt. When Palamedes saw him doing this he was
nearly persuaded that Odysseus was mad. But to test him he took the
child Telemachus and laid him down in the field in the way of the
plough. Odysseus, when he came near to where the child lay, turned the
plough aside and thereby showed that he was not a mad man. Then had he
to take King Agamemnon's summons. And Agamemnon's word was that Odysseus
should go to Aulis where the ships of the Kings and Princes of Greece
were being gathered. But first he was to go into another country to seek
the hero Achilles and persuade him also to enter the war against Troy.
And so Odysseus bade good-bye to his infant son, Telemachus, and to his
young wife Penelope, and to his father, old Laertes. And he bade
good-bye to his house and his lands and to the island of Ithaka where he
was King. He summoned a council of the chief men of Ithaka and commended
to their care his wife and his child and all his household, and
thereafter he took his sailors and his fighting men with him and he
sailed away. The years went by and Odysseus did not return. After ten
years the City was taken by the Kings and Princes of Greece and the
thread of war was wound up. But still Odysseus did not return. And now
minstrels came to Ithaka with word of the deaths or the homecomings of
the heroes who had fought in the war against Troy. But no minstrel
brought any word of Odysseus, of his death or of his appearance in any
land known to men. Ten years more went by. And now that infant son
whom he had left behind, Telemachus, had grown up and was a young man of
strength and purpose.
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II
One day, as he sat sad and disconsolate in the house of his father, the
youth Telemachus saw a stranger come to the outer gate. There were many
in the court outside, but no one went to receive the newcomer. Then,
because he would never let a stranger stand at the gate without hurrying
out to welcome him, and because, too, he had hopes that some day such a
one would bring him tidings of his father, Telemachus rose up from where
he was sitting and went down the hall and through the court and to the
gate at which the stranger stood.
'Welcome to the house of Odysseus,' said Telemachus giving him his hand.
The stranger clasped it with a friendly clasp. 'I thank you,
Telemachus,' he said, 'for your welcome, and glad I am to enter the
house of your father, the renowned Odysseus.'
The stranger looked like one who would be a captain amongst soldiers.
His eyes were grey and clear and shone wonderfully. In his hand he
carried a great bronze spear. He and Telemachus went together through
the court and into the hall. And when the stranger left his spear
within the spearstand Telemachus took him to a high chair and put a
footstool under his feet.
He had brought him to a place in the hall where the crowd would not
come. There were many in the court outside and Telemachus would not have
his guest disturbed by questions or clamours. A handmaid brought water
for the washing of his hands, and poured it over them from a golden ewer
into a silver basin. A polished table was left at his side. Then the
house-dame brought wheaten bread and many dainties. Other servants set
down dishes of meat with golden cups, and afterwards the maids came into
the hall and filled up the cups with wine.
But the servants who waited on Telemachus and his guest were disturbed
by the crowd of men who now came into the hall. They seated themselves
at tables and shouted out their orders. Great dishes of meat were
brought to them and bowls of wine, and the men ate and drank and talked
loudly to each other and did not refrain even from staring at the
stranger who sat with Telemachus.
'Is there a wedding-feast in the house?' the stranger asked, 'or do the
men of your clan meet here to drink with each other?'
A flush of shame came to the face of Telemachus. 'There is no
wedding-feast here,' he said, 'nor do the men of our clan meet here to
drink with each other. Listen to me, my guest. Because you look so wise
and because you seem so friendly to my father's name I will tell you who
these men are and why they trouble this house.'
Thereupon, Telemachus told the stranger how his father had not returned
from the war of Troy although it was now ten years since the City was
taken by those with whom he went. 'Alas,' Telemachus said, 'he must have
died on his way back to us, and I must think that his bones lie under
some nameless strait or channel of the ocean. Would he had died in the
fight at Troy! Then the Kings and Princes would have made him a
burial-mound worthy of his name and his deeds. His memory would have
been reverenced amongst men, and I, his son, would have a name, and
would not be imposed upon by such men as you see here--men who are
feasting and giving orders in my father's house and wasting the
substance that he gathered.'
'How come they to be here?' asked the stranger. Telemachus told him
about this also. When seven years had gone by from the fall of Troy and
still Odysseus did not return there were those who thought he was dead
and would never be seen more in the land of Ithaka. Then many of the
young lords of the land wanted Penelope, Telemachus' mother, to marry
one of them. They came to the house to woo her for marriage. But she,
mourning for the absence of Odysseus and ever hoping that he would
return, would give no answer to them. For three years now they were
coming to the house of Odysseus to woo the wife whom he had left behind
him. 'They want to put my lady-mother between two dread difficulties,'
said Telemachus, 'either to promise to wed one of them or to see the
substance of our house wasted by them. Here they come and eat the bread
of our fields, and slay the beasts of our flocks and herds, and drink
the wine that in the old days my father laid up, and weary our servants
with their orders.'
When he had told him all this Telemachus raised his head and looked at
the stranger: 'O my guest,' he said, 'wisdom and power shine out of your
eyes. Speak now to me and tell me what I should do to save the house of
Odysseus from ruin. And tell me too if you think it possible that my
father should still be in life.'
The stranger looked at him with his grey, clear, wonderfully-shining
eyes. 'Art thou verily the son of Odysseus?' said he.
'Verily, I am the son of Odysseus,' said Telemachus.
'As I look at you,' said the stranger, 'I mark your head and eyes, and I
know they are such a head and such eyes as Odysseus had. Well, being the
son of such a man, and of such a woman as the lady Penelope, your spirit
surely shall find a way of destroying those wooers who would destroy
your house.'
'Already,' said Telemachus, 'your gaze and your speech make me feel
equal to the task of dealing with them.'
'I think,' said the stranger, 'that Odysseus, your father, has not
perished from the earth. He may yet win home through labors and perils.
But you should seek for tidings of him. Harken to me now and I shall
tell you what to do.
'To-morrow summon a council of all the chief men of the land of Ithaka,
and stand up in that council and declare that the time has come for the
wooers who waste your substance to scatter, each man to his own home.
And after the council has been held I would have you voyage to find out
tidings of your father, whether he still lives and where he might be. Go
to Pylos first, to the home of Nestor, that old King who was with your
father in the war of Troy. Beg Nestor to give you whatever tidings he
has of Odysseus. And from Pylos go to Sparta, to the home of Menelaus
and Helen, and beg tidings of your father from them too. And if you get
news of his being alive, return: It will be easy for you then to endure
for another year the wasting of your substance by those wooers. But if
you learn that your father, the renowned Odysseus, is indeed dead and
gone, then come back, and in your own country raise a great funeral
mound to his memory, and over it pay all funeral rites. Then let your
mother choose a good man to be her husband and let her marry him,
knowing for a certainty that Odysseus will never come back to his own
house. After that something will remain for you to do: You will have to
punish those wooers who destroy the goods your father gathered and who
insult his house by their presence. And when all these things have been
done, you, Telemachus, will be free to seek out your own fortune: you
will rise to fame, for I mark that you are handsome and strong and most
likely to be a wise and valiant man. But now I must fare on my journey.'
The stranger rose up from where he sat and went with Telemachus from the
hall and through the court and to the outer gate. Telemachus said: 'What
you have told me I shall not forget. I know you have spoken out of a
wise and a friendly heart, and as a father to his son.'
The stranger clasped his hands and went through the gate. And then, as
he looked after him Telemachus saw the stranger change in his form. He
became first as a woman, tall, with fair hair and a spear of bronze in
her hand. And then the form of a woman changed too. It changed into a
great sea-eagle that on wide wings rose up and flew high through the
air. Telemachus knew then that his visitor was an immortal and no other
than the goddess Athene who had been his father's friend.
III
When Telemachus went back to the hall those who were feasting there had
put the wine-cups from them and were calling out for Phemius, the
minstrel, to come and sing some tale to delight them. And as he went
amongst them one of the wooers said to another, 'The guest who was with
him has told Telemachus something that has changed his bearing. Never
before did I see him hold himself so proudly. Mayhap he has spoken to
him of the return of his father, the renowned Odysseus.'
Phemius came and the wooers called upon him to sing them a tale. And the
minstrel, in flowing verse, began the tale of the return of the Kings
and Princes from Troy, and of how some god or goddess put a trouble upon
them as they left the City they had taken. And as the minstrel began the
tale, Penelope, Telemachus' lady-mother, was coming down the stairs with
two hand-maids beside her. She heard the words he sang, and she stood
still in her grief and drew her veil across her face. 'O Phemius,' she
cried, 'cease from that story that ever wastes my heart--the story that
has brought me sorrow and that leaves me comfortless all my days! O
Phemius, do you not know other tales of men and gods that you might sing
in this hall for the delight of my noble wooers?'
The minstrel would have ceased when Penelope spoke thus to him, but
Telemachus went to the stairway where his lady-mother stood, and
addressed her.
'My lady-mother,' said he, 'why should you not let the minstrel delight
the company with such songs as the spirit moves him to give us? It is no
blame to him if he sings of that which is sorrowful to us. As for you,
my mother, you must learn to endure that story, for long will it be sung
and far and wide. And you are not the only one who is bereaved--many
another man besides Odysseus lost the happy day of his homecoming in
the war of Troy.'
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Penelope, his lady-mother, looked in surprise at the youth who spoke to
her so wisely. Was this indeed Telemachus who before had hardly lifted
his head? And as she looked at him again she saw that he carried his
head--that head of his that was so like Odysseus'--high and proudly. She
saw that her son was now indeed a man. Penelope spoke no word to him,
for a new thought had come into her mind. She turned round on the stairs
and went back with her hand-maids to the chamber where her loom and her
distaff were. And as she went up the stairway and away from them her
wooers muttered one to the other that she would soon have to choose one
of them for her husband.
Telemachus turned to those who were standing at the tables and addressed
them. 'Wooers of my mother,' he said, 'I have a word to say to you.'
'By the gods, youth,' said one of the wooers, 'you must tell us first
who he is who has made you so high and proud of speech.'
'Surely,' said another, 'he who has done that is the stranger who was
with him. Who is he? Why did he come here, and of what land has he
declared himself to be?'
'Why did he not stay so that we might look at him and speak to him?'
said another of the wooers.
'These are the words I would say to you. Let us feast now in peace,
without any brawling amongst us, and listen to the tale that the
minstrel sings to us,' said Telemachus. 'But to-morrow let us have a
council made up of the chief men of this land of Ithaka. I shall go to
the council and speak there. I shall ask that you leave this house of
mine and feast on goods that you yourselves have gathered. Let the chief
men judge whether I speak in fairness to you or not. If you do not heed
what I will say openly at the council, before all the chief men of our
land, then let it be on your own heads what will befall you.'
All the wooers marvelled that Telemachus spoke so boldly. And one said,
'Because his father, Odysseus, was king, this youth thinks he should be
king by inheritance. But may Zeus, the god, never grant that he be
king.'
Then said Telemachus, 'If the god Zeus should grant that I be King, I am
ready to take up the Kingship of the land of Ithaka with all its toils
and all its dangers.' And when Telemachus said that he looked like a
young king indeed.
But they sat in peace and listened to what the minstrel sang. And when
evening came the wooers left the hall and went each to his own house.
Telemachus rose and went to his chamber. Before him there went an
ancient woman who had nursed him as a child--Eurycleia was her name. She
carried burning torches to light his way. And when they were in his
chamber Telemachus took off his soft doublet and put it in Eurycleia's
hands, and she smoothed it out and hung it on the pin at his bed-side.
Then she went out and she closed the door behind with its handle of
silver and she pulled the thong that bolted the door on the other side.
And all night long Telemachus lay wrapped in his fleece of wool and
thought on what he would say at the council next day, and on the goddess
Athene and what she had put into his heart to do, and on the journey
that was before him to Nestor in Pylos and to Menelaus and Helen in
Sparta.
IV
As soon as it was dawn Telemachus rose from his bed. He put on his
raiment, bound his sandals on his feet, hung his sharp sword across his
shoulder, and took in his hand a spear of bronze. Then he went forth to
where the Council was being held in the open air, and two swift hounds
went beside him.
The chief men of the land of Ithaka had been gathered already for the
council. When it was plain that all were there, the man who was oldest
amongst them, the lord Ægyptus, rose up and spoke. He had sons, and two
of them were with him yet, tending his fields. But one, Eurynomous by
name, kept company with the wooers of Telemachus' mother. And Ægyptus
had had another son; he had gone in Odysseus' ship to the war of Troy,
and Ægyptus knew he had perished on his way back. He constantly mourned
for this son, and thinking upon him as he spoke, Ægyptus had tears in
his eyes.
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'Never since Odysseus summoned us together before he took ship for the
war of Troy have we met in council,' said he. 'Why have we been brought
together now? Has someone heard tidings of the return of Odysseus? If it
be so, may the god Zeus give luck to him who tells us of such good
fortune.'
Telemachus was glad because of the kindly speech of the old man. He rose
up to speak and the herald put a staff into his hands as a sign that he
was to be listened to with reverence. Telemachus then spoke, addressing
the old lord Ægyptus.
'I will tell you who it is,' he said, 'who has called the men of Ithaka
together in council, and for what purpose. Revered lord Ægyptus, I have
called you together, but not because I have had tidings of the return of
my father, the renowned Odysseus, nor because I would speak to you about
some affair of our country. No. I would speak to you all because I
suffer and because I am at a loss--I, whose father was King over you,
praised by you all. Odysseus is long away from Ithaka, and I deem that
he will never return. You have lost your King. But you can put another
King to rule over you. I have lost my father, and I can have no other
father in all my days. And that is not all my loss, as I will show you
now, men of Ithaka.
'For three years now my mother has been beset by men who come to woo her
to be wife for one of them. Day after day they come to our house and
kill and devour our beasts and waste the wine that was laid up against
my father's return. They waste our goods and our wealth. If I were
nearer manhood I would defend my house against them. But as yet I am
not able to do it, and so I have to stand by and see our house and
substance being destroyed.'
So Telemachus spoke, and when his speech was ended Antinous, who was one
of the wooers, rose up.
'Telemachus,' said he, 'why do you try to put us to shame in this way? I
tell all here that it is not we but your mother who is to blame. We,
knowing her husband Odysseus is no longer in life, have asked her to
become the wife of one of us. She gives us no honest answer. Instead she
has given her mind to a device to keep us still waiting.
'I will tell you of the council what this device is. The lady Penelope
set up a great loom in her house and began to weave a wide web of cloth.
To each of us she sent a message saying that when the web she was
working at was woven, she would choose a husband from amongst us.
"Laertes, the father of Odysseus, is alone with none to care for him
living or dead," said she to us. "I must weave a shroud for him against
the time which cannot now be far off when old Laertes dies. Trouble me
not while I do this. For if he should die and there be no winding-sheet
to wrap him round all the women of the land would blame me greatly."
'We were not oppressive and we left the lady Penelope to weave the web,
and the months have gone by and still the web is not woven. But even now
we have heard from one of her maids how Penelope tries to finish her
task. What she weaves in the daytime she unravels at night. Never, then,
can the web be finished and so does she try to cheat us.
'She has gained praise from the people for doing this. "How wise is
Penelope," they say, "with her devices." Let her be satisfied with their
praise then, and leave us alone. We too have our devices. We will live
at her house and eat and drink there and give orders to her servants and
we shall see which will satisfy her best--to give an answer or to let
the wealth of her house be wasted.
'As for you, Telemachus, I have these words to say to you. Lead your
mother from your father's house and to the house of her father, Icarius.
Tell Icarius to give her in marriage to the one she chooses from amongst
us. Do this and no more goods will be wasted in the house that will be
yours,'
Then Telemachus rose and said, 'Never will I lead my mother out of a
house that my father brought her into. Quit my father's house, or, as I
tell you now, the day may come when a doom will fall upon you there for
your insolence in it.'
And even as Telemachus spoke, two eagles from a mountain crest flew over
the place where the council was being held. They wheeled above and
flapped their wings and looked down upon the crowd with destruction in
their gaze. They tore each other with their talons, and then flew away
across the City.
An old man who was there, Halitherses by name, a man skilled in the
signs made by birds, told those who were around what was foreshown by
the combat of the eagles in the air. 'Odysseus,' he said, 'is not far
from his friends. He will return, and his return will mean affliction
for those who insult his house. Now let them make an end of their
mischief.' But the wooers only laughed at the old man, telling him he
should go home and prophesy to his children.
Then arose another old man whose name was Mentor, and he was one who had
been a friend and companion of Odysseus. He spoke to the council saying:
'Never again need a King be gentle in his heart. For kind and gentle to
you all was your King, Odysseus. And now his son asks you for help and
you do not hurry to give it him. It is not so much an affliction to me
that these wooers waste his goods as that you do not rise up to forbid
it. But let them persist in doing it on the hazard of their own heads.
For a doom will come on them, I say. And I say again to you of the
council: you are many and the wooers are few: Why then do you not put
them away from the house of Odysseus?'
But no one in the council took the side of Telemachus and Halitherses
and Mentor--so powerful were the wooers and so fearful of them were the
men of the council. The wooers looked at Telemachus and his friends with
mockery. Then for the last time Telemachus rose up and spoke to the
council.
'I have spoken in the council, and the men of Ithaka know, and the gods
know, the rights and wrongs of my case. All I ask of you now is that you
give me a swift ship with twenty youths to be my crew so that I may go
to Pylos and to Sparta to seek tidings of my father. If I find he is
alive and that he is returning, then I can endure to wait another year
in the house and submit to what you do there.'
Even at this speech they mocked. Said one of them, Leocritus by name,
'Though Odysseus be alive and should one day come into his own hall,
that would not affright us. He is one, and we are many, and if he should
strive with those who outnumber him, why then, let his doom be on his
own head. And now, men of the council, scatter yourselves and go each to
his own home, and let Mentor and Halitherses help Telemachus to get a
ship and a crew.'
Leocritus said that knowing that Mentor and Halitherses were old and had
few friends, and that they could do nothing to help Telemachus to get a
ship. The council broke up and those who were in it scattered. But the
wooers went together back to the house of Odysseus.
V
Telemachus went apart, and, going by himself, came to the shore of the
sea. He dipped his hands into the sea-water and prayed, saying, 'O
Goddess Athene, you who did come to my father's hall yesterday, I have
tried to do as you bade me. But still the wooers of my mother hinder me
from taking ship to seek tidings of my father.'
He spoke in prayer and then he saw one who had the likeness of the old
man Mentor coming towards him. But by the grey, clear,
wonderfully-shining eyes he knew that the figure was none other than the
goddess Athene.
[Illustration]
'Telemachus,' said she, 'if you have indeed one drop of your father's
blood in you or one portion of his spirit, if you are as he was--one
ready to fulfil both word and work, your voyage shall not be in vain. If
you are different from what he was, I have no hope that you will
accomplish your desire. But I have seen in you something of the wisdom
and the courage of Odysseus. Hear my counsel then, and do as I direct
you. Go back to your father's house and be with the wooers for a time.
And get together corn and barley-flour and wine in jars. And while you
are doing all this I will gather together a crew for your ship. There
are many ships in sea-girt Ithaka and I shall choose the best for you
and we will rig her quickly and launch her on the wide deep.'
When Telemachus heard her counsel he tarried no more but went back to
the house and stood amongst the wooers, and when he had spoken with them
he went down into the treasure-vault. It was a spacious room filled with
gold and bronze and chests of raiment and casks of wine. The doors of
that vault were closed night and day and Eurycleia, the dame who had
been the nurse of Telemachus when he was little, guarded the place. She
came to him, and he spoke to her:
'My nurse,' said he, 'none but yourself must know what I would do now,
and you must swear not to speak of it to my lady-mother until twelve
days from this. Fill twelve jars with wine for me now, and pour twelve
measures of barley-meal into well-sewn skins. Leave them all together
for me, and when my mother goes into the upper chamber, I shall have
them carried away. Lo, nurse, I go to Pylos and to Sparta to seek
tidings from Nestor and Menelaus of Odysseus, my father.'
When she heard him say this, the nurse Eurycleia lamented. 'Ah,
wherefore, dear child,' she cried, 'has such a thought risen in your
mind? How could you fare over wide seas and through strange lands, you
who were never from your home? Stay here where you are well beloved. As
for your father, he has long since perished amongst strangers why should
you put yourself in danger to find out that he is no more? Nay, do not
go, Telemachus, my fosterling, but stay in your own house and in your
own well-beloved country.'
Telemachus said: 'Dear nurse, it has been shown to me that I should go
by a goddess. Is not that enough for you and for me? Now make all ready
for me as I have asked you, and swear to me that you will say nothing of
it to my mother until twelve days from this, or until she shall miss me
herself.'
Having sworn as he asked her, the nurse Eurycleia drew the wine into
jars and put the barley-meal into the well-sewn skins. Telemachus left
the vault and went back again into the hall. He sat with the wooers and
listened to the minstrel Phemius sing about the going forth of Odysseus
to the wars of Troy.
And while these things were happening the goddess Athene went through
the town in the likeness of Telemachus. She went to this youth and that
youth and told them of the voyage and asked them to make ready and go
down to the beach where the boat would be. And then she went to a man
called Noëmon, and begged him for a swift ship, and Noëmon gave it her.
When the sun sank and when the ways were darkened Athene dragged the
ship to where it should be launched and brought the tackling to it. The
youths whom Athene had summoned--they were all of the age of
Telemachus--came, and Athene aroused them with talk of the voyage. And
when the ship was ready she went to the house of Odysseus. Upon the
wooers who were still in the hall she caused sleep to fall. They laid
their heads upon the tables and slumbered beside the wine cups. But
Athene sent a whisper through the hall and Telemachus heard and he rose
up and came to where she stood. Now she had on the likeness of old
Mentor, the friend of his father Odysseus.
'Come,' said she, 'your friends are already at the oars. We must not
delay them.'
But some of the youths had come with the one whom they thought was old
Mentor. They carried with Telemachus the skins of corn and the casks of
wine. They came to the ship, and Telemachus with a cheer climbed into
it. Then the youths loosed the ropes and sat down at the benches to pull
the oars. And Athene, in the likeness of old Mentor, sat at the helm.
And now they set up the mast of pine and they made it fast with
forestays, and they hauled up the sails with ropes of twisted oxhide.
And a wind came and filled out the sails, and the youths pulled at the
oars, and the ship dashed away. All night long Telemachus and his
friends sat at the oars and under the sails, and felt the ship bearing
them swiftly onward through the dark water. Phemius, the minstrel, was
with them, and, as the night went by, he sang to them of Troy and of the
heroes who had waged war against it.
[Illustration]
VI
Troy, the minstrel sang, was the greatest of the Cities of men; it had
been built when the demi-gods walked the earth; its walls were so strong
and so high that enemies could not break nor scale them; Troy had high
towers and great gates; in its citadels there were strong men well
armed, and in its treasuries there were stores of gold and silver. And
the King of Troy was Priam. He was old now, but he had sons that were
good Captains. The chief of them all was Hector.
Hector, the minstrel sang, was a match for any warrior the nations could
send against Troy. Because he was noble and generous as well as brave,
the people were devoted to him. And Hector, Priam's son, was commander
in the City.
But Priam had another son who was not counted amongst the Captains.
Paris was his name. Now when Paris was in his infancy, a soothsayer told
King Priam that he would bring trouble upon Troy. Then King Priam had
the child sent away from the City. Paris was reared amongst country
people, and when he was a youth he herded sheep.
* * * * *
Then the minstrel sang of Peleus, the King of Phthia, and of his
marriage to the river nymph, Thetis. All the gods and goddesses came to
their wedding feast, Only one of the immortals was not invited--Eris,
who is Discord. She came, however. At the games that followed the
wedding feast she threw a golden apple amongst the guests, and on the
apple was written "For the fairest."
Each of the three goddesses who was there wished to be known as the
fairest and each claimed the golden apple--Aphrodite who inspired love;
Athene who gave wisdom; and Hera who was the wife of Zeus, the greatest
of the gods. But no one at the wedding would judge between the goddesses
and say which was the fairest. And then the shepherd Paris came by, and
him the guests asked to give judgment.
Said Hera to Paris, 'Award the apple to me and I will give you a great
kingship.' Said Athene, 'Award the golden apple to me and I will make
you the wisest of men.' And Aphrodite came to him and whispered, 'Paris,
dear Paris, let me be called the fairest and I will make you beautiful,
and the fairest woman in the world will be your wife.' Paris looked on
Aphrodite and in his eyes she was the fairest. To her he gave the golden
apple and ever afterwards she was his friend. But Hera and Athene
departed from the company in wrath.
The minstrel sang how Paris went back to his father's City and was made
a prince of Troy. Through the favor of Aphrodite he was the most
beautiful of youths. Then Paris went out of the City again. Sent by his
father he went to Tyre. And coming back to Troy from Tyre he went
through Greece.
Now the fairest woman in the world was in Greece; she was Helen, and she
was married to King Menelaus. Paris saw her and loved her for her
beauty. And Aphrodite inspired Helen to fall in love with Paris. He
stole her from the house of Menelaus and brought her into Troy.
King Menelaus sent to Troy and demanded that his wife be given back to
him. But the people of Troy, thinking no King in the world could shake
them, and wanting to boast that the fairest woman in the world was in
their city, were not willing that Menelaus be given back his wife. Priam
and his son, Hector, knew that a wrong had been done, and knew that
Helen and all that she had brought with her should be given back. But in
the council there were vain men who went against the word of Priam and
Hector, declaring that for no little King of Greece would they give up
Helen, the fairest woman in all the world.
* * * * *
[Illustration]
Then the minstrel sang of Agamemnon. He was King of rich Mycenæ, and his
name was so high and his deeds were so renowned that all the Kings of
Greece looked to him. Now Agamemnon, seeing Menelaus, his brother,
flouted by the Trojans, vowed to injure Troy. And he spoke to the
Kings and Princes of Greece, saying that if they all united their
strength they would be able to take the great city of Troy and avenge
the slight put upon Menelaus and win great glory and riches for
themselves.
And when they had come together and had taken note of their strength,
the Kings and Princes of Greece thought well of the word of Agamemnon
and were eager to make war upon Troy. They bound themselves by a vow to
take the City. Then Agamemnon sent messages to the heroes whose lands
were far away, to Odysseus, and to Achilles, who was the son of Peleus
and Thetis, bidding them also enter the war.
In two years the ships of all the Kings and Princes were gathered into
Aulis and the Greeks, with their leaders, Agamemnon, Aias, Diomedes,
Nestor, Idomeneus, Achilles and Odysseus, sailed for the coast of Troy.
One hero after another subdued the cities and nations that were the
allies of the Trojans, but Troy they did not take. And the minstrel sang
to Telemachus and his fellow-voyagers how year after year went by, and
how the host of Greeks still remained between their ships and the walls
of the City, and how in the ninth year there came a plague that smote
with death more men than the Trojans killed.
So the ship went on through the dark water, very swiftly, with the
goddess Athene, in the likeness of old Mentor, guiding it, and with the
youths listening to the song that Phemius the minstrel sang.
VII
The sun rose and Telemachus and his fellow-voyagers drew near to the
shore of Pylos and to the steep citadel built by Neleus, the father of
Nestor, the famous King. They saw on the shore men in companies making
sacrifice to Poseidon, the dark-haired god of the sea. There were nine
companies there and each company had nine black oxen for the sacrifice,
and the number of men in each company was five hundred. They slew the
oxen and they laid parts to burn on the altars of the god, and the men
sat down to feast.
The voyagers brought their ship to the shore and Telemachus sprang from
it. But before him went the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, in the likeness
of the old man, Mentor. And the goddess told Telemachus that Nestor, the
King whom he had come to seek, was on the shore. She bade him now go
forward with a good heart and ask Nestor for tidings of his father,
Odysseus.
But Telemachus said to her, 'Mentor, how can I bring myself to speak to
one who is so reverenced? How should I greet him? And how can I, a young
man, question such a one as Nestor, the old King?'
[Illustration]
The goddess, grey-eyed Athene, encouraged him; the right words, she
said, would come. So Telemachus went forward with his divine
companion. Nestor was seated on the shore with his sons around him. And
when they saw the two strangers approach, the sons of Nestor rose up to
greet them. One, Peisistratus, took the hand of Telemachus and the hand
of the goddess and led them both to where Nestor was.
A golden cup was put into the hand of each and wine was poured into the
cups, and Nestor's son, Peisistratus, asked Telemachus and the goddess
to pray that the sacrifice they were making to Poseidon, the god of the
sea, would bring good to them and to their people. Then the goddess
Athene in the likeness of old Mentor held the cup in her hand and
prayed:
'Hear me, Poseidon, shaker of the earth: First to Nestor and his sons
grant renown. Then grant to the people of Pylos recompense for the
sacrifice of oxen they have made. Grant, too, that Telemachus and I may
return safely when what we have come in our swift ship to seek has been
won.'
Telemachus prayed in the words of the goddess and then the sons of
Nestor made them both sit on the fleeces that were spread on the shore.
And dishes of meat were brought to them and cups of wine, and when they
had eaten and drunk, the old King, Nestor, spoke to them.
'Until they have partaken of food and drink, it is not courteous,' he
said, 'to ask of strangers who they are and whither they go. But now, my
guests, I will ask of you what your land is, and what your quest, and
what names you bear.'
Then Telemachus said: 'Nestor, renowned King, glory of the Greeks, we
have come out of Ithaka and we seek tidings of my father, of Odysseus,
who, long ago, fought by your side in the war of Troy. With you, men
say, he sacked the great City of the Trojans. But no further story about
him has been told. And I have come to your knees, O King, to beg you to
give me tidings of him--whether he died and you saw his death, or
whether you heard of his death from another. And if you should answer
me, speak not, I pray you, in pity for me, but tell me all you know or
have heard. Ah, if ever my father helped you in the land of the Trojans,
by the memory of what help he gave, I pray you speak in truth to me, his
son.'
Then said Nestor, the old King, 'Verily, my son, you bring sorrow to my
mind. Ah, where are they who were with me in our war against the mighty
City of Troy? Where is Aias and Achilles and Patroklos and my own dear
son, Antilochos, who was so noble and so strong? And where is Agamemnon
now? He returned to his own land, to be killed in his own hall by a most
treacherous foeman. And now you ask me of Odysseus, the man who was
dearer to me than any of the others--Odysseus, who was always of the one
mind with me! Never did we two speak diversely in the assembly nor in
the council.
'You say to me that you are the son of Odysseus! Surely you are.
Amazement comes over me as I look on you and listen to you, for you look
as he looked and you speak as he spoke. But I would have you speak
further to me and tell me of your homeland and of how things fare in
Ithaka.'
Then he told the old King of the evil deeds I worked by the wooers of
his mother, and when he had told of them Telemachus cried out, 'Oh, that
the gods would give me such strength that I might take vengeance on them
for their many transgressions.'
Then said old Nestor, 'Who knows but Odysseus will win home and requite
the violence of these suitors and the insults they have offered to your
house. The goddess Athene might bring this to pass. Well was she
inclined to your father, and never did the gods show such favour to a
mortal as the grey-eyed goddess showed to Odysseus, your father.'
But Telemachus answered, 'In no wise can your word be accomplished,
King.'
Then Athene, in the likeness of old Mentor, spoke to him and said, 'What
word has crossed your lips, Telemachus? If it should please them, any
one of the gods could bring a man home from afar. Only this the gods may
not do--avert death from a man who has been doomed to it.'
Telemachus answered her and said, 'Mentor, no longer let us talk of
these things. Nestor, the renowned King, has been very gracious to me,
but he has nothing to tell me of my father. I deem now that Odysseus
will never return.'
'Go to Menelaus,' said Nestor. 'Go to Menelaus in Sparta. Lately he has
come from a far and a strange country and it may be that he has heard
of Odysseus in his wanderings. You can go to Sparta in your ship. But if
you have a mind to fare by land then will I give you a chariot and
horses, and my son will go with you to be a guide for you into Sparta.'
Then Telemachus, with Athene, the grey-eyed goddess in the likeness of
old Mentor, would have gone back to their ship, but Nestor the King
said, 'Zeus forbid that you two should go back to the ship to take your
rest while there is guest-room in my hall. Come with me to a place where
you can lie softly. Never shall it be said that a son of Odysseus, my
dear friend, lay on the hard deck of a ship while I am alive and while
children of mine are left in my hall. Come with me now.'
Then the goddess Athene in the likeness of old Mentor said, 'You have
spoken as becomes you, renowned King. Telemachus should harken to your
word and go with you. But it is meet that the young men who came for the
love of him should have an elder with them on the ship to-night. I shall
abide with them.'
So speaking, the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, in the likeness of old
Mentor went from the shore, and Telemachus went with Nestor and his sons
to the high citadel of Neleus. And there he was given a bath, and the
maiden Polycaste, the youngest daughter of King Nestor, attended him.
She gave him new raiment to wear, a goodly mantle and doublet. He slept
in a room with Peisistratus, the youngest of Nestor's sons.
In the morning they feasted and did sacrifice, and when he had given
judgments to the people, the old King Nestor spoke to his sons,--
'Lo, now, my sons. Yoke for Telemachus the horses to the chariot that he
may go on his way to Sparta.'
The sons of Nestor gave heed and they yoked the swift horses to the
chariot and the housedame came from the hall and placed within the
chariot wine and dainties. Telemachus went into the chariot and
Peisistratus sat before him. Then Peisistratus touched the horses with
the whip and they sprang forward, and the chariot went swiftly over the
plain. Soon they left behind them the steep citadel of Neleus and the
land of Pylos. And when the sun sank and the ways were darkened, they
came to Pheræ and to the house of Diocles and there they rested for the
night.
In the morning as soon as the sun rose they yoked the houses and they
mounted the chariot, and for another day they journeyed across the
plain. They had gone far and the ways were again darkened around them.
VIII
They came to Sparta, to a country lying low amongst the hills, and they
stayed the chariot outside the gate of the King's dwelling. Now upon
that day Menelaus was sending his daughter into Phthia, with horses and
chariots, as a bride for Achilles' son. And for Megapenthes, his own
son, a bride was being brought into the house. Because of these two
marriages there was feasting in the palace and kinsmen and neighbours
were gathered there. A minstrel was singing to the guests and two
tumblers were whirling round the high hall to divert them.
[Illustration]
To the King in his high hall came Eteoneus, the steward. 'Renowned
Menelaus,' said Eteoneus, 'there are two strangers outside, men with the
looks of heroes. What would you have me do with them? Shall I have their
horses unyoked, bidding them enter the Palace, or shall I let them fare
on to another dwelling?'
'Why do you ask such a question, Eteoneus?' said Menelaus in anger.
'Have we not eaten the bread of other men on our wanderings, and have we
not rested ourselves in other men's houses? Knowing this you have no
right to ask whether you should bid strangers enter or let them go past
the gate of my dwelling. Go now and bid them enter and feast with us.'
Then Eteoneus went from the hall, and while he had servants unyoke the
horses from their chariot he led Telemachus and Peisistratus into the
palace. First they were brought to the bath, and when they had come from
the bath refreshed, they were given new cloaks and mantles. When they
had dressed themselves they were led into the King's high hall. They
seated themselves there, and a maid brought water in a golden ewer and
poured it over their hands into a silver basin. Then a polished table
was put beside them, and the housedame placed bread and meat and wine
upon it so that they might eat.
Menelaus came to where they sat and said to Telemachus and Peisistratus,
'By your looks I know you to be of the line of Kings. Eat now, and when
you have refreshed yourselves I will ask who you are and from what place
you come.'
But before they had finished their meal, and while yet Menelaus the king
was showing them the treasures that were near, the lady Helen came into
the high hall--Helen for whom the Kings and Princes of Greece had gone
to war. Her maids were with her, and they set a chair for her near where
Menelaus was and they put a rug of soft wool under her feet. Then one
brought to her a silver basket filled with colored yarn. And Helen sat
in her high chair and took the distaff in her hands and worked the yarn.
She questioned Menelaus about the things that had happened during the
day, and as she did she watched Telemachus.
Then the lady Helen left the distaff down and said, 'Menelaus, I am
minded to tell you who one of these strangers is. No one was ever more
like another than this youth is like great-hearted Odysseus. I know that
he is no other than Telemachus, whom Odysseus left as a child, when, for
my sake, the Greeks began their war against Troy.'
Then said Menelaus, 'I too mark his likeness to Odysseus. The shape of
his head, the glance of his eye, remind me of Odysseus. But can it
indeed be that Telemachus has come into my house?'
'Renowned Menelaus,' said Peisistratus, 'this is indeed the son of
Odysseus. And I avow myself to be the son of another comrade of yours,
of Nestor, who was with you at the war of Troy. I have been sent with
Telemachus to be his guide to your house.'
Menelaus rose up and clasped the hand of Telemachus. 'Never did there
come to my house,' said he, 'a youth more welcome. For my sake did
Odysseus endure much toil and many adventures. Had he come to my country
I would have given him a city to rule over, and I think that nothing
would have parted us, one from the other. But Odysseus, I know, has not
returned to his own land of Ithaka.'
Then Telemachus, thinking upon his father, dead, or wandering through
the world, wept. Helen, too, shed tears, remembering things that had
happened. And Menelaus, thinking upon Odysseus and on all his toils, was
silent and sad; and sad and silent too was Peisistratus, thinking upon
Antilochos, his brother, who had perished in the war of Troy.
But Helen, wishing to turn their minds to other thoughts, cast into the
wine a drug that lulled pain and brought forgetfulness--a drug which had
been given to her in Egypt by Polydamna, the wife of King Theon. And
when they had drunk the wine their sorrowful memories went from them,
and they spoke to each other without regretfulness. Thereafter King
Menelaus told of his adventure with the Ancient One of the Sea--the
adventure that had brought to him the last tidings of Odysseus.
IX
Said Menelaus, 'Over against the river that flows out of Egypt there is
an Island that men call Pharos, and to that island I came with my ships
when we, the heroes who had fought at Troy, were separated one from the
other. There I was held, day after day, by the will of the gods. Our
provision of corn was spent and my men were in danger of perishing of
hunger. Then one day while my companions were striving desperately to
get fish out of the sea, I met on the shore one who had pity for our
plight.
'She was an immortal, Eidothëe, a daughter of the Ancient One of the
Sea. I craved of her to tell me how we might get away from that place,
and she counselled me to take by an ambush her father, the Ancient One
of the Sea, who is also called Proteus, "You can make him tell you,"
said she, "for he knows all things, what you must do to get away from
this island of Pharos. Moreover, he can declare to you what happened to
the heroes you have been separated from, and what has taken place in
your own hall."
'Then said I to that kind nymph Eidothëe, "Show me how I may take by an
ambush your immortal father, the Ancient One of the Sea."'
'Said Eidothëe, "My father, Proteus, comes out of the sea when the sun
is highest in the heavens. Then would he lie down to sleep in the caves
that are along the shore. But before he goes to sleep he counts, as a
shepherd counts his flock, the seals that come up out of the ocean and
lie round where he lies. If there be one too many, or one less than
there should be, he will not go to sleep in the cave. But I will show
you how you and certain of your companions may be near without the
Ancient One of the Sea being aware of your presence. Take three of your
men--the three you trust above all the others--and as soon as it is dawn
to-morrow meet me by the edge of the sea."'
'So saying the nymph Eidothëe plunged into the sea and I went from that
place anxious, but with hope in my heart.
'Now as soon as the dawn had come I walked by the sea-shore and with me
came the three that I trusted above all my companions. The daughter of
the Ancient One of the Sea, Eidothëe, came to us. In her arms she had
the skins of seals newly-slain, one for each of us. And at the cave
where the seals lay she scooped holes in the sand and bade us lie there,
covering ourselves with the skins. Then she spoke to me and said:
'"When my father, the Ancient One of the Sea, comes here to sleep, lay
hands upon him and hold him with all the strength you have. He will
change himself into many shapes, but do not you let go your hold upon
him. When he changes back into the shape he had at first you may let go
your holds. Question him then as to how you may leave this place, or
question him as to any other matter that may be on your mind, and he
will answer you, speaking the truth."'
'We lay down in the holes she had scooped in the sand and she covered
each of us with one of the skins she had brought. Then the seals came
out of the sea and lay all around us. The smell that came from those
beasts of the sea afflicted us, and it was then that our adventure
became terrible. We could not have endured it if Eidothëe had not helped
us in this also. She took ambrosia and set it beneath each man's
nostril, so that what came to us was not the smell of the sea-beasts but
a divine savour. Then the nymph went back to the sea.
'We lay there with steadfast hearts amongst the herd of seals until the
sun was at its highest in the heavens. The Ancient One of the Sea came
out of the ocean depths. He went amongst the seals and counted them, and
us four men he reckoned amongst his herd. Then in great contentment he
laid himself down to sleep.
'We rushed upon him with a cry and laid hold on him with all the
strength of our hands. But we had no sooner grasped him than his shape
changed. He became a lion and faced us. Yet we did not let go of our
grasp. He became a serpent, yet we still held him. He became a leopard
and then a mighty boar; he became a stream of water and then a flowering
tree. Yet still we held to him with all our might and our hearts were
not daunted by the shapes he changed to before our eyes. Then, seeing
that he could not make us loose our hold, the Ancient One of the Sea,
who was called Proteus, ceased in his changes and became as we had seen
him first.
[Illustration]
'"Son of Atreus," said he, speaking to me, "who was it showed you how to
lay this ambush for me?"'
'"It is for you who know all things," said I, "to make answer to us.
Tell me now why it is that I am held on this island? Which of the gods
holds me here and for what reason?"'
'Then the Ancient One of the Sea answered me, speaking truth, "Zeus, the
greatest of all the gods holds you here. You neglected to make sacrifice
to the gods and for that reason you are held on this island."
'"Then," said I, "what must I do to win back the favor of the gods?"'
'He told me, speaking truth, "Before setting sail for your own land," he
said, "you must return to the river Ægyptus that flows out of Africa,
and offer sacrifice there to the gods."'
'When he said this my spirit was broken with grief. A long and a
grievous way would I have to sail to make that sacrifice, turning back
from my own land. Yet the will of the gods would have to be done. Again
I was moved to question the Ancient One of the Sea, and to ask him for
tidings of the men who were my companions in the wars of Troy.
'Ah, son of Odysseus, more broken than ever was my spirit with grief
when he told me of their fates. Then I heard how my brother, great
Agamemnon, reached his own land and was glad in his heart. But his wife
had hatred for him, and in his own hall she and Ægisthus had him slain.
I sat and wept on the sands, but still I questioned the Ancient One of
the Sea. And he told me of strong Aias and how he was killed by the
falling rock after he had boasted that Poseidon, the god of the Sea,
could afflict him no more. And of your father, the renowned Odysseus,
the Ancient One had a tale to tell.
'Then, and even now it may be, Odysseus was on an island away from all
mankind. "There he abides in the hall of the nymph Calypso," the Ancient
One of the Sea told me. "I saw him shed great tears because he could not
go from that place. But he has no ship and no companions and the nymph
Calypso holds him there. And always he longs to return to his own
country, to the land of Ithaka." And after he had spoken to me of
Odysseus, he went from us and plunged into the sea.
'Thereafter I went back to the river Ægyptus and moored my ships and
made pious sacrifice to the gods. A fair wind came to us and we set out
for our own country. Swiftly we came to it, and now you see me the
happiest of all those who set out to wage war against Troy. And now,
dear son of Odysseus, you know what an immortal told of your father--how
he is still in life, but how he is held from returning to his own home.'
Thus from Menelaus the youth Telemachus got tiding of his father. When
the King ceased to speak they went from the hall with torches in their
hands and came to the vestibule where Helen's handmaids had prepared
beds for Telemachus and Peisistratus. And as he lay there under purple
blankets and soft coverlets, the son of Odysseus thought upon his
father, still in life, but held in that unknown island by the nymph
Calypso.
X
His ship and his fellow-voyagers waited at Pylos but for a while longer
Telemachus bided in Sparta, for he would fain hear from Menelaus and
from Helen the tale of Troy. Many days he stayed, and on the first day
Menelaus told him of Achilles, the greatest of the heroes who had fought
against Troy, and on another day the lady Helen told him of Hector, the
noblest of all the men who defended King Priam's City.
'Achilles,' said King Menelaus, 'was sprung of a race that was favoured
by the immortals. Peleus, the father of Achilles, had for his friend,
Cheiron, the wisest of the Centaurs--of those immortals who are half men
and half horse. Cheiron it was who gave to Peleus his great spear. And
when Peleus desired to wed an immortal, Zeus, the greatest of the gods,
prevailed upon the nymph Thetis to marry him, although marriage with a
mortal was against her will. To the wedding of Thetis and Peleus all the
gods came. And for wedding gifts Zeus gave such armour as no mortal had
ever worn before--armour wonderfully bright and wonderfully strong, and
he gave also two immortal horses.
'Achilles was the child of Thetis and Peleus--of an immortal woman
married to a mortal hero. He grew up most strong and fleet of foot. When
he was grown to be a youth he was sent to Cheiron, and his father's
friend instructed him in all the ways of war. He became the greatest of
spearmen, and on the mountain with the Centaur he gained in strength and
in fleetness of foot.
'Now after he returned to his father's hall the war against Troy began
to be prepared for. Agamemnon, the king, wanted Achilles to join the
host. But Thetis, knowing that great disasters would befall those who
went to that war, feared for Achilles. She resolved to hide him so that
no word from King Agamemnon might reach him. And how did the nymph
Thetis hide her son? She sent him to King Lycomedes and prayed the King
to hide Achilles amongst his daughters.
'So the youth Achilles was dressed as a maiden and stayed with the
daughters of the King. The messengers of Agamemnon searched everywhere
for him. Many of them came to the court of King Lycomedes, but not
finding one like Achilles amongst the King's sons they went away.
'Odysseus, by Agamemnon's order, came to seek Achilles. He knew that the
youth was not amongst the King's sons. He saw the King's daughters in
their father's orchard, but could not tell if Achilles was amongst them,
for all were veiled and dressed alike.
[Illustration]
'Then Odysseus went away and returned as a peddler carrying in his pack
such things as maidens admire--veils and ornaments and brazen mirrors.
But under the veils and ornaments and mirrors the wise Odysseus left a
gleaming sword. When he came before the maidens in the King's orchard he
laid down his peddler's pack. The mirrors and veils and ornaments were
taken up and examined eagerly. But one of the company took up the
gleaming sword and looked at it with flashing eyes. Odysseus knew that
this was Achilles, King Peleus' son.
'He gave the youth the summons of King Agamemnon, bidding him join the
war that the Kings and Princes of Greece were about to wage against
Troy. And Achilles was glad to get the summons and glad to go. He
returned to Phthia, to his father's citadel. There did he make ready to
go to Aulis where the ships were being gathered. He took with him his
father's famous warriors, the Myrmidons who were never beaten in battle.
And his father bestowed on him the armour and the horses that had been
the gift of Zeus--the two immortal horses Xanthos and Balios.
'But what rejoiced Achilles more than the gift of marvellous armour and
immortal steeds was that his dear comrade, Patroklos, was to be with him
as his mate in war. Patroklos had come into Phthia and into the hall of
Peleus when he was a young boy. In his own country he had killed another
boy by mischance over a game of dice. His father, to save him from the
penalty, fled with him to King Peleus. And Achilles' father gave them
refuge and took Patroklos into his house and reared him up with his own
son. Later he made him squire to Achilles. These two grew up together
and more than brothers they loved each other.
[Illustration]
'Achilles bade good-bye to Phthia, and to his hero-father and his
immortal mother, and he and Patroklos with the Myrmidons went over the
sea to Aulis and joined the host of the Kings and Princes who had made a
vow not to refrain from war until they had taken King Priam's famous
city.'
XI
Achilles became the most renowned of all the heroes who strove against
Troy in the years the fighting went on. Before the sight of him, clad in
the flashing armour that was the gift of Zeus and standing in the
chariot drawn by the immortal horses, the Trojan ranks would break and
the Trojan men would flee back to the gate of their city. And many
lesser cities and towns around Troy did the host with the help of
Achilles take.
'Now because of two maidens taken captive from some of these cities a
quarrel between Achilles and Agamemnon grew up. One of the maidens was
called Chryseis and the other Briseis. Chryseis was given to Agamemnon
and Briseis to Achilles.
[Illustration]
'The father of Chryseis was a priest of Apollo, and when the maiden, his
daughter, was not given back to him, he went and prayed the god to
avenge him on the host. Apollo listened to his prayer, and straightway
the god left his mountain peak with his bow of silver in his hands. He
stood behind the ships and shot his arrows into the host. Terrible was
the clanging of his silver bow. He smote the beasts of the camp first,
the dogs and the mules and the horses, and then he smote the men, and
those whom his arrows smote were stricken by the plague.
'The warriors began to die, and every day more perished by the plague
than were killed by the spears and swords and arrows of the Trojans. Now
a council was summoned and the chiefs debated what was to be done to
save the host. At the council there was a soothsayer named Kalchas; he
stood up and declared that he knew the cause of the plague, and he knew
too how the remainder of the host might be saved from it.
'It was because of the anger of Apollo, Kalchas said; and that anger
could only be averted by Agamemnon sending back to his father, the
priest of Apollo, the maiden Chryseis.
'Then was Agamemnon wroth exceedingly. "Thou seer of things evil," said
he to Kalchas, "never didst thou see aught of good for me or mine. The
maiden given to me, Chryseis, I greatly prize. Yet rather than my folk
should perish I shall let her be taken from me. But this let you all of
the council know: some other prize must be given to me that the whole
host may know that Agamemnon is not slighted."'
'Then said Achilles: "Agamemnon, of all Kings you are the most covetous.
The best of us toil and battle that you may come and take what part of
the spoil may please you. Be covetous no more. Let this maiden go back
to her father and afterwards we will give you some other prize."'
'Said Agamemnon: "The council here must bind itself to give me
recompense."'
'"Still you speak of recompense, Agamemnon," answered Achilles. "No one
gains more than you gain. I had no quarrel with the men of Troy, and yet
I have come here, and my hands bear the brunt of the war."'
'"You who are captains must give me a recompense," said Agamemnon, "or
else I shall go to the tent of Achilles and take away the maiden given
to him, Briseis of the Fair Cheeks."'
'"I am wearied of making war for you," answered Achilles. "Though I am
always in the strife but little of the spoil comes to my tent. Now will
I depart to my own land, to Phthia, for I am not minded to stay here and
be dishonoured by you, O King."'
'"Go," said Agamemnon, "if your soul be set upon fleeing, go. But do not
think that there are not captains and heroes here who can make war
without you. Go and lord it amongst your Myrmidons. Never shall we seek
your aid. And that all may know I am greater than you, Achilles, I shall
go to your tent and take away the maiden Briseis."'
'When he heard Agamemnon's speech the heart within Achilles' breast was
divided, and he knew not whether he should remain still and silent in
his anger, or, thrusting the council aside, go up to Agamemnon and slay
him with the sword. His hand was upon the sword-hilt when an immortal
appeared to him--the goddess Athene. No one in the company but Achilles
was aware of her presence. "Draw not the sword upon Agamemnon," she
said, "for equally dear to the gods are you both." Then Achilles drew
back and thrust his heavy sword into its sheath again. But although he
held his hand he did not refrain from angry and bitter words. He threw
down on the ground the staff that had been put into his hands as a sign
that he was to be listened to in the council. "By this staff that no
more shall bear leaf or blossom," he said, "I swear that longing for
Achilles' aid shall come upon the host of Agamemnon, but that no
Achilles shall come to their help. I swear that I shall let Hector
triumph over you."'
'Then the council broke up and Achilles with Patroklos, his dear
comrade, went back to their tent. A ship was launched and the maiden
Chryseis was put aboard and Odysseus was placed in command. The ship set
out for Chryse. There on the beach they found the priest of Apollo, and
Odysseus placed his daughter in the old man's arms. They made sacrifice
to Apollo, and thereafter the plague was averted from the host.
'But to Achilles' tent there came the messengers of the King, and they
took Briseis of the Fair Cheeks and led her away. Achilles, in bitter
anger, sat by the sea, hard in his resolve not to help Agamemnon's men,
no matter what defeat great Hector inflicted upon them.'
XII
Such was the quarrel, dear son, between Agamemnon, King of men, and
great Achilles. Ah, because of that quarrel many brave men and great
captains whom I remember went down to their deaths!'
'But Agamemnon before long relented and he sent three envoys to make
friendship between himself and Achilles. The envoys were Odysseus and
Aias and the old man Phoinix who had been a foster-father to Achilles.
Now when these three went into his hut they found Achilles sitting with
a lyre in his hands, singing to the music he made. His song was of what
Thetis, his goddess-mother, had told him concerning his own fate--how,
if he remained in the war against Troy, he should win for himself
imperishable renown but would soon lose his life, and how, if he left
the war, his years in his own land should be long, although no great
renown would be his. Patroklos, his dear friend, listened to what
Achilles sang. And Achilles sang of what royal state would be his if he
gave up the war against the Trojans and went back to his father's
halls--old Peleus would welcome him, and he would seek a bride for him
from amongst the loveliest of the Greek maidens. "In three days," he
sang, "can Poseidon, God of the Sea, bring me to my own land and to my
father's royal castle."'
'"Well dost thou sing, Achilles," said Odysseus to him, "and pleasant
would it be to hear thy song if our hearts were not filled up with great
griefs. But have not nine years passed away since we came here to make
war on Troy? And now are not our ships' timbers rotted and their
tacklings loosed, and do not many of our warriors think in their hearts
how their wives and children have long been waiting for their return?
And still the walls of Troy rise up before us as high and as
unconquerable as ever! No wonder our hearts are filled up with griefs.
And now Achilles, the greatest of our heroes, and the Myrmidons, the
best of our warriors, have left us and gone out of the fight."'
'"Even to-day did great Hector turn back our battalions that were led by
Agamemnon and Aias and Diomedes, driving us to the wall that we have
built around our ships. Behind that wall we halted and called one to the
other to find out who had escaped and who had fallen in the onslaught
Hector made. Only when he had driven us behind our wall did Hector turn
back his chariot and draw off his men."'
'"But Hector has not gone through the gates of the City. Look now,
Achilles! His chariots remain on the plain. Lo now, his watch-fires! A
thousand fires thou canst see and beside each sits fifty warriors with
their horses loose beside their chariots champing barley. Eagerly they
wait for the light of the dawn when they will come against us again,
hoping this time to overthrow the wall we have builded, and come to our
ships and burn them with fire, and so destroy all hope of our return."'
'"We are all stricken with grief and fear. Even Agamemnon weeps. We have
seen him standing before us like unto a dark fountain breaking from some
beetling cliff. How else could he but weep tears? To-morrow it may be he
shall have to bid the host draw the ships to the water and depart from
the coast of Troy. Then will his name forever be dishonoured because of
defeat and the loss of so many warriors."'
'"Deem'st thou I grieve for Agamemnon's griefs, Odysseus?" said
Achilles. "But although thou dost speak of Agamemnon thou art welcome,
thou and thy companions. Even in my wrath you three are dear to me."'
'He brought them within the hut and bade a feast be prepared for them.
To Odysseus, Aias and Phoinix wine cups were handed. And when they had
feasted and drunk wine, Odysseus turned to where Achilles sat on his
bench in the light of the fire, and said:
'"Know, Achilles, that we three are here as envoys from King Agamemnon.
He would make a friendship with thee again. He has injured and he has
offended thee, but all that a man can do he will do to make amends. The
maiden Briseis he will let go back. Many gifts will he give thee too,
Achilles. He will give thee seven tripods, and twenty cauldrons, and ten
talents of gold. Yes, and besides, twelve royal horses, each one of
which has triumphed in some race. He who possesses these horses will
never lack for wealth as long as prizes are to be won by swiftness. And
harken to what more Agamemnon bade us say to thee. If we win Troy he
will let thee load your ship with spoil of the city--with gold and
bronze and precious stuffs. And thereafter, if we win to our homes he
will treat thee as his own royal son and will give thee seven cities to
rule over. And if thou wilt wed there are three daughters in his
hall--three of the fairest maidens of the Greeks--and the one thou wilt
choose he will give thee for thy wife, Chrysothemis, or Laodike, or
Iphianassa."'
'So Odysseus spoke and then Aias said, "Think, Achilles, and abandon now
thy wrath. If Agamemnon be hateful to thee and if thou despiseth his
gifts, think upon thy friends and thy companions and have pity upon
them. Even for our sakes, Achilles, arise now and go into battle and
stay the onslaught of the terrible Hector."'
'Achilles did not answer. His lion's eyes were fixed upon those who had
spoken and his look did not change at all for all that was said.'
'Then the old man Phoinix who had nurtured him went over to him. He
could not speak, for tears had burst from him. But at last, holding
Achilles' hands, he said: