II

We must now follow Hector on his errand of piety to the town. As he

entered the gates, an anxious crowd of Trojan women pressed round him,

with eager questions about brothers, husbands, or sons. He put them

gently aside, bidding them pray to the gods, and made his way through

the streets until he came to the vast pile of the royal palace, where

dwelt Priam and his fifty sons and twelve daughters, with their wives

and husbands. Hecuba, his mother, saw him coming, and hastened to meet

him, taking with her Laodice, the fairest of her daughters. "What has

brought thee hither, my son?" said she, holding his hand, "is it that

the Trojans are hard pressed by the Greeks, and thy spirit moved thee

to go up to Jove's holy temple and pray? Wait awhile, till I bring

thee a cup of wine, that thou mayest pour a drink-offering and then

take a comfortable draught, to refresh thee after thy sore toils."

"I will drink no wine, mother," answered Hector, "lest I dull my

spirit, and unnerve mine arm. Neither may I pour a drink-offering with

hands defiled by blood and the soil of battle. But go thou to the

temple of Athene, thou and the venerable mothers of Troy, and take with

thee a robe, the largest and the most precious which thou hast, that

thou mayest lay it on the knees of the goddess, as an offering meet for

her. Do this, and vow a sacrifice of twelve yearling heifers that have

never felt the goad, if so be that she will take pity on us and our

wives and little ones, and save us from the fury of Diomede. As for

me, I go to find Paris, and rouse him to play a man's part among the

defenders of Troy."

Having despatched his mother on that bootless errand, Hector went to

visit Paris in his luxurious home, which was built on the same hill

where stood the palace of Priam. Clad in all his brazen mail, and

carrying in his hand a spear eleven cubits long, he crossed the

threshold, and passed on to Helen's bower, where Paris was sitting,

with his armour strewn around him, fitting new feathers to his arrows.

The great warrior stood awhile, gazing in silence at his unworthy

brother; then smiling bitterly he said: "I perceive that thou art wroth

with thy poor countrymen seeing that thou leavest them to perish, while

thou art dallying here. Rouse thee, Paris," he added, changing his

tone; "the flames of war, which thou hast kindled, are blazing round

our walls. Shake off this unmanly sloth, and play the man for once."

"Hector, I feel the justice of thy reproaches," answered Paris. "But

it was sorrow, not anger, that kept me in my chamber. But away with

regrets! My turn will come, and I am resolved to go back to the

battle, urged thereto both by Helen's entreaties and by thy biting

words. Wait while I don my armour--or go thou first, and I will

overtake thee."

Hector turned to go, without answering a word; but Helen, who was

present with her handmaids, laid her hand upon his arm, and said:

"Leave me not thus, dear brother! Kill me not by thine accusing

silence! Unhappy that I am, the sport and victim of evil powers, given

over to perdition from my birth! And if I needs must sin, could I not

at least have sinned for a man, and not have wrecked my life for a

caitiff like this, without conscience, without heart? But sit thee

down, Hector, and rest awhile, for on thee lies heaviest the burden

which has been laid upon thy city for my sake, and for the sake of

Paris, an ill-starred pair, whose evil fate shall be a theme of song in

days to come."

"Seek not to detain me, Helen," answered Hector gently; "my duty calls

me hence, and I must join my faithful comrades, whom I left in the toil

and heat of the fray. Thither am I bound, when I have taken one

look--it may be for the very last time--at my house, and my wife, and

my little child. Look thou that Paris keeps his word, and joins me

before I quit the town."

With hasty step Hector left the house, and went to his own home, which

was close by. Learning there from a handmaid that Andromache had gone

with her child and his nurse to watch the battle from the tower of the

citadel, he went back to look for her there. As he ascended the steep

path which led to the tower, the quick ear of Andromache recognised his

footstep, and she ran to meet him, followed by the nurse, who carried

the little Astyanax, a lovely boy, fair as the morning star, the sweet

pledge of their wedded love. She clasped her husband's hand, and said,

with a look of fond reproach in her tearful eyes: "Rash man, it will be

thine undoing, this hardy spirit of thine! At thee every spear is

pointed, when thou goest into battle, and soon, very soon, the Greeks

will take thy life. Then who shall be my defender, and who shall guard

thy child, when thou art gone? I shall be left alone in the world, for

all my kith and kin have perished. My father, Eëtion, was slain by

Achilles, when he sacked my native city, the stately town of Thebes;

and his tomb lies in the shadow of a fair grove of elms, planted there

by the nymphs to do him honour. Seven brothers I had, who grew up with

me in my home; and they were slain by Achilles in a cattle raid, and

one grave received them all. My mother Achilles released for gold, and

she went back to her father's house; but she also is no more, slain by

the gentle shafts of Artemis.

[Illustration: Hector's Farewell. Friedrich Preller, Jr. By

permission of F. Bruckmann, Munich]

"Hector, thou art my father, my mother, my brother, my husband, my

life, my all! Leave me not to perish in lonely widowhood with a

fatherless child. Call the people within the walls, and fight no more

in the open plain. Why wilt thou hazard thy life against such fearful

odds?"

"Dear love, it cannot be," answered Hector sadly; "what would my

brethren say, if I bade them skulk like cowards behind their walls?

No; I must go where honour calls me, though I know that Troy is doomed

with all her sons. Yea, the day shall dawn when temple and tower shall

go down, and these streets shall run with Trojan blood. Then many a

noble dame shall be led away captive, and among them--bitter, bitter

thought!--thou shalt go, to eat the hard bread of bondage, and do

menial service under a haughty mistress. Methinks I see thee, stooping

under thy burden, as thou bearest water from some Grecian spring, while

men point the finger at thee, and cry in scorn: 'Hail, Andromache, wife

of Hector, Troy's bravest champion!' May death overtake me, and hide

me deep in darkness and the grave, before ever I see thee dragged into

slavery by ruffian hands."

A long silence followed, broken only by the sobs of Andromache, who was

overpowered by the dreadful picture conjured up by her husband's words.

At last Hector beckoned to the nurse, who had been standing a little

apart, to bring him the child, and stretched out his arms to receive

him; but the little one clung crying to his nurse's breast, affrighted

by the brazen helmet and its nodding plume. His father and mother

exchanged a loving smile, and Hector removed his helmet, and, laying it

on the ground, took the boy in his arms, kissed him, and fondled him,

and then put up this prayer to heaven: "Father Zeus, and all ye gods,

grant that this, my child, may be strong and valiant in fight, even as

I am, and win him honour among the Trojans; and may his mother's heart

be glad when he comes back from the war laden with the spoils of the

foe."

Then he gave the child to his mother, who pressed him to her bosom with

a tearful smile. "Now I must leave thee," he said, with a tender

gesture: "and mourn not overmuch for me. I shall not die before my

day: every man has his appointed time, be he noble or base. Thou hast

thy tasks, I mine; let us both play our part bravely, and leave the

rest to heaven."

With many a pause and many a backward glance Andromache left him, and

went back to her house, with her heart full of sad foreboding. When

she was gone, Hector remained standing for awhile, lost in sorrowful

thought. He was about to turn away when he heard the clatter of

hurrying feet, and Paris came running up, glittering in his

new-burnished armour, and tossing his plume, like some wanton,

stall-fed steed. For he was a stout fellow, though a coward at heart,

and was full of vigour and animal spirits after his long rest. "Who is

the laggard now?" cried the gay holiday soldier, with a loud laugh.

"Art thou ready to go, or shall I wait for thee awhile?"

"Forget my harsh words," answered Hector mildly. "I was vexed on thy

account, when I saw thee hanging back, and heard the Trojans speak evil

of thee. Let us forget our quarrels, and fight side by side for hearth

and home; perhaps we may yet live to see happier days."