Idomeneus, the leader of the Cretans, had been absent some time from
the battle, attending to a wounded comrade, and when he left him he
went to his tent, to replace part of his armour, which had been damaged
in the fight. On reaching his quarters he was met by Meriones, his
second in command, who had gone to fetch a fresh spear, having broken
his own on a Trojan shield. "What doest thou here, Meriones?" he
asked. "Art thou wounded, or bringest thou some message to me?"
"I came to fetch a spear," answered Meriones; "my own was broken in the
fight." "Spears there are in plenty in my tent," said Idomeneus, "and
helmets, and shields, and burnished corslets--the spoils of many a
vanquished Trojan." "And in mine too there is no lack of such,"
replied Meriones. "But thy tent was nearer. Thou knowest best whether
I do my devoir on the field of honour or not."
"I have seen thee prove thy manly worth," said Idomeneus. "Thou needst
not remind me. I have noted thy bearing in the long cold hours of the
night, when thou wast one of a picked company lying in ambush, and
waiting for the dawn. This is the sternest, sharpest test of valour
and endurance. Mark then the coward, how he flushes, and then pales,
shifting uneasily from one foot to another, as he cowers in his place,
with chattering teeth and wildly beating heart, and mark the hero,
crouched, like a good hound, motionless and silent, ready to spring at
his enemy's throat. None ever passed through that sharp ordeal with
more honour than thou. And in open battle thy face is ever to the foe,
and thy scars are all in front. But enough of this: here stand we
bragging of our prowess, while our comrades are encompassed by the
flames of war. Let us away, and show our manhood by deeds, not words."
Like murderous Ares when he arms him for battle in the savage land of
Thrace, and by his side goes Terror, his son, whose fierce eyes appal
the stoutest heart, so rushed Idomeneus back to the field, with
Meriones, his trusty friend. "Let us make for the left of the fighting
line," cried Idomeneus. "On the right the Trojans are weaker, and in
the centre fights Telamonian Ajax, a pillar of strength, the equal of
Achilles in all save speed of foot. On the left the need is sorest,
with most room for a leader of note."
As on a wild and gusty day, when two clouds of dust are whirled
together by conflicting winds, so met the Greek and Trojan columns,
with clash of shield and glitter of spear, when Idomeneus and his
comrade returned to the field. Not in vain had Idomeneus boasted of
his deeds of war. Many a Trojan went down that day before his spear;
and the first of them was Othryoneus, who was lately come to Troy, and
was a suitor for the hand of Cassandra, the fairest of Priam's
daughters. Great was the price which he had promised to pay for his
bride. "Give me thy daughter," he said, "and I will drive these Greeks
out of the land." But the lance of Idomeneus cut short his wooing, and
down he fell with a sounding crash. "Is it thou, gallant bridegroom?"
shouted Idomeneus, as his helmet fell off, exposing his face. "How
wilt thou keep thy bargain with Priam now? That wager is lost, but
come with me, and we will find thee a fair partner yet. Thou shalt
have the fairest of Agamemnon's daughters, if thou wilt aid us to sack
the stately city of Troy. How likest thou the terms?"
Thus insulting his fallen foe, Idomeneus began to drag him away by the
foot, intending to spoil him of his armour. While thus employed, he
was confronted by Asius, who came on foot against him, his squire
following close with the chariot, so that he felt the hot breath of the
horses on his shoulders. But Idomeneus was too quick for him, and
pierced him, as he stood with weapon poised, in the throat, driving the
point clean through his neck. Like an oak, or poplar, or tall pine,
hewn down on a mountainside to make a ship's timber, so fell that proud
champion, and lay in his blood at his horse's feet, moaning and
clutching at the dust. The charioteer was dumfoundered by his master's
fall, and dropped the reins in his terror; and while he stood thus,
with staring eyes and gaping mouth, Antilochus thrust him through with
his spear, and leaping into the car drove off with his prize.
Idomeneus was now fiercely assailed by a formidable antagonist, in the
person of Deiphobus, a brother of Hector, and one of the bravest of the
Trojans. Idomeneus crouched low as he saw him coming with brandished
spear; and the weapon passed over him, just grazing the rim of his
shield, but found a victim in another Greek, who was advancing to his
support, and received the point in his breast. Down he went, and
Deiphobus cried exultingly: "Not unavenged falls Asius, but I have
given him a companion on his journey to the shades."
Thus saved from his peril, the stout old Cretan glared about him,
looking for another mark for his spear; and he found one in the young
Alcathous, who was married to a daughter of Anchises, and was thus
closely related to Æneas. The youthful prince, being new to the work
of war, was bewildered by the roar and tumult of the struggle which was
raging around him, and stood, overpowered by sudden panic, within close
range of the Cretan captain's lance. "Sleepest thou, pretty lad!"
shouted the grim veteran, "I will wake thee from thy slumber." And he
clove him through the breast with his spear, which stilled the last
beatings of his heart.
"Three Trojans for one Greek!" shouted Idomeneus. "Art thou content,
Deiphobus? Come hither, and I will add a fourth. It will be glory
enough for thee to die by the hand of Idomeneus, whose grandsire was
Minos, the very son of Zeus."
Deiphobus deemed it prudent to decline the challenge, and he went in
search of Æneas, to inform him of his kinsman's fall. Æneas was
loitering in the rear, for he had a grudge against Priam, which chilled
his ardour for the battle. But when he heard that Alcathous was slain
his heart burned to avenge him, and he hurried to the front, where he
was joined by Paris and a strong band of Trojans. Idomeneus, on his
part, was reinforced by the arrival of Meriones, Antilochus, and
Ascalaphus, a son of Ares, with their followers; and so the fight raged
on, and many a stout warrior went down to swell the muster-roll of
death.
There fought Helenus, the prophetic son of Priam, armed with bow and
arrows, and wielding a mighty falchion, tempered in a Thracian forge.
With one blow of that trenchant blade he shattered the helmet of a
Greek warrior, a friend of Menelaus, and laid him at his feet, stunned
and bleeding. Menelaus sprang to his friend's relief, and flung his
spear at Helenus; and at the same moment Helenus shot an arrow, which
struck the prince on the breastplate, but rebounded as beans or pulse
rebound from the winnower's shovel, while the spear of Menelaus pierced
him through the left hand, pinning it to the bow. Helenus retired,
trailing the spear after him, until a comrade drew it out, and bound up
the wounded hand with a woollen sling, which he took from his squire.
Menelaus was now attacked by another Trojan chieftain, who, after
making an abortive thrust with his spear, took in his hand an axe,
which hung inside his shield, and, swinging the weapon over his head by
its long shaft of olive-wood, leapt upon him with a fierce cry. But
before the blow could descend he received a fearful wound in the
forehead, from the sword of the Spartan king, and fell backwards in the
dust. "So may all the Trojans perish!" cried Menelaus, setting his
foot on the breast of his prostrate foe. "Ye have robbed me of my
wife; ye have plundered my treasure, after receiving generous welcome
under my roof. And now ye come hither to burn our fleet, and butcher
us in our camp. Great sire of heaven, men praise thy righteousness,
and call thee wise above all gods and men: how then canst thou lend thy
countenance to these bloodthirsty robbers, whose pastime is murder,
whose joy is to betray?"
[Illustration: Menelaus. Vatican, Rome]
Carried away by his eloquence, Menelaus failed to observe that he was
threatened by a new assailant. This was Harpalion, son of the King of
Paphlagonia, who charged at him, lance in hand. Menelaus was just in
time to receive the blow on his shield, and before Harpalion could
recover his weapon he was transfixed by the spear of Meriones, and lay
writhing like a worm on the ground, until he was borne, groaning, from
the field by his attendants, followed by his weeping father.
Paris was wroth at the fall of the Paphlagonian prince, who was his
friend and guest, and he drew his bow at a venture, and slew Euchenor,
the son of a famous seer, who dwelt in Corinth. Often his father had
prophesied to him that he was destined to die either by a wasting
disease, or on the battlefield at Troy. He chose a warrior's death,
and found it on that day, by the hand of Paris.