While Priam was still conversing with Helen, a herald entered with the
startling news that his presence was required in the field, to settle
the conditions of the single combat between Paris and Menelaus. Some
natural pangs he felt, when he heard of the danger which threatened his
son. Nevertheless he set out at once, taking with him the victims
required for the sacrifice. When he came to the open space between the
two armies he found all things ready for the solemn rite. The chiefs
stood waiting in a circle, and in their midst was Agamemnon, who acted
as priest. The heralds mingled two portions of pure[3] wine in a bowl,
and poured water over the hands of the chieftains. Then Agamemnon drew
a sharp knife, which hung at his girdle by his ponderous sword, and
cutting off a few hairs from the foreheads of the victims gave them to
the heralds to distribute among the princes. When this was done,
amidst a general hush he uttered this solemn prayer: "Father Zeus, Lord
of Ida, most glorious, most mighty, ye rivers, and thou earth, and ye
dread powers beneath, who take vengeance after death on all those who
swear a false oath, be ye all the witnesses and guardians of our
treaty. If Paris slays Menelaus he shall keep Helen for his wife, with
all her goods; but should Paris fall Helen shall go back to Menelaus,
her lawful lord. Let the war be decided by the issue of this combat,
and Heaven defend the right!" Therewith he cut the throats of the
victims, and laid their quivering bodies on the ground. Then the
drink-offering was poured, with this awful imprecation on those who
should break the treaty: "If any man violate our sworn oath, may his
brains be poured out, even as this wine, and may his wife and children
be sold into bondage."
[3] In sacrifices pure wine was used; wine for drinking was always
mixed with water.
Priam now took his departure from the field, for he could not bear to
see his son in deadly combat with Menelaus. When he was gone, Hector
and Odysseus measured out the ground for the duel, and shook the lots
in a helmet, to see who should be the first to cast his spear; and the
lot fell on Paris. Meanwhile Paris was putting on his armour; for he
had come lightly equipped as an archer into the field.
The two rivals took their stand on either side, clad in their brazen
harness, and armed with sword and spear. And first Paris cast his
spear, which struck upon the shield of Menelaus, and did him no harm.
Then Menelaus lifted up his spear, and murmured a prayer to Zeus:
"Grant me, O King, to take vengeance on him who brought dishonour on my
home, where he dwelt as my honoured guest." As he spoke, he flung his
good ashen spear, which clove its way through the shield of Paris, and
tore his tunic close to his side; but Paris swerved aside and escaped a
wound. Before he could recover himself Menelaus was upon him, sword in
hand, and struck him with all his force upon the helmet; but once more
fortune favoured the Trojan, for the blade was shivered on the ridge of
the helmet, and Menelaus grasped a useless hilt. "Curse on thee,
treacherous steel!" cried he, and, seizing Paris by the helmet, began
to drag him towards the ranks of the Greeks. This time he would have
succeeded, and taken his enemy captive, had not the strap which held
the helmet given way under the strain, so that the brazen headpiece
came away empty in his hand.
Menelaus flung the helmet towards his friends, and picking up his spear
turned again upon his cowardly foe, with purpose to slay him. But
Paris was nowhere to be seen: an invisible hand had caught him up, and
carried him away from the righteous hand of the avenger. For
Aphrodite, the soft goddess of love, had been hovering near to protect
her favourite. She it was who had caused the helmet strap to break,
and now she saved him a second time, and bore him swiftly to his house
in Troy. There he was presently visited by the lovely Helen, who,
though she scorned him in her heart, was drawn thither by a fatal spell
which she could not resist; and in the sunshine of her smiles he soon
forgot dishonour and defeat.
All this time Menelaus was raging about the field, like a tiger robbed
of his prey, and calling upon the Trojans to surrender the recreant to
his vengeance; and they would gladly have done so, if they had known
where to find him, for they hated him worse than death. And Agamemnon,
amid general applause, demanded the surrender of Helen, according to
the terms of the treaty.