III

When the last tribute of sorrow had been paid, the rest of the day was

devoted to sport and festivity. In heroic times funeral games were an

important part of the honours assigned to a fallen warrior; and those

of Patroclus were celebrated on a scale of unrivalled magnificence.

The great event of the day was to be the chariot race, and splendid

prizes were offered by Achilles, who was the sole patron and prize

giver, for the winners. When the gifts were set in order, Achilles

rose and invited all who prided themselves in their horsemanship to

take part in the friendly contest. "If," he said, "we were keeping

this festival in honour of any other Greek, I myself must needs carry

off the first prize; for no steeds in all the army can vie with mine,

the immortal coursers which were a gift from Poseidon to my father.

But this is a day of mourning both to me and to them; for they have

lost their gentle charioteer, and now stand, sorrow-stricken, with

manes drooping to the ground, in their stalls, deprived of his loving

care. Therefore take your places, all ye who would prove the mettle of

your horses, and your own mastery of this gallant game."

Four chieftains brought their cars to try their fortune in the race:

Eumelus, a prince of Thessaly, a land renowned for its breed of horses;

Diomede, who drove the horses which he had taken from Æneas; Menelaus,

with a mare of Agamemnon's, named Arthe, and his own horse Podargus;

and Antilochus, whose car was drawn by a pair from his father's

stables. Nestor, who knew their quality, which was indeed but poor,

accompanied his son to the starting-point, and as they were the first

to arrive he improved the occasion by proffering a world of good

advice, reinforced by many a pithy saw, showing Antilochus how the want

of speed may be remedied by cunning and skill. "Art," he said, "is far

greater than force. Art drives the axe, though aimed by a weaker arm,

deep into the heart of the oak; art controls the motions of tall ships,

by means of a very small helm; and art may save thee from reaching the

goal last in this race."

In the ancient chariot races the starting-point and the winning-post

were always the same, as it was the custom to run a certain distance,

and then wheel round a certain point, and return on the homeward track,

which was parallel to the other. The turning-point was marked by a

pillar, or some other conspicuous object, and here a desperate struggle

often took place between the rival cars for the inside place, taxing

the skill and courage of the drivers to the utmost. Nestor had been

over the course, and gave his son minute directions as to the

appearance and position of the turning-post, which was far off on the

plain, and invisible from the starting-point. "You will see," he said,

"a withered stump of oak or fir, rising to about a fathom above the

earth, with a white stone leaning against it on either side. There you

must turn; and see that you lose no ground in wheeling round to the

homeward track. Give your right horse the reins, and urge him to full

speed with voice and lash, but rein in the other, and hold him back;

and let the nave of your left wheel just seem to graze the stump. If

you can pass another car in turning, there is no fear that he will

catch you again. Thou hast my counsel: go, and prosper--be wary, and

be wise."

At the last moment a fifth chariot appeared on the scene, driven by

Meriones. Lots were cast for the stations, and Antilochus was so

fortunate as to obtain the inside place. The cars drew up in a line,

Achilles gave the word, and away they went in a cloud of dust, the

horses' manes streaming, the drivers shouting, and the cars gliding

smoothly, or leaping and plunging at the uneven places.

Soon the cars began to separate by wider and wider intervals, and a

keen struggle ensued between the Thracian horses, driven by Eumelus,

and the Trojans, driven by Diomede. Eumelus took the lead, but Diomede

followed him so close that he felt the hot breath of the pursuing

horses on his back. So they ran for about a bowshot; then Diomede

dropped his whip, and his horses, wanting the lash, began to fall back.

This accident befell him by the malice of Apollo, who owed him a grudge

for the havoc which he had wrought among the Trojans. But Athene had

not forgotten her favourite, and she contrived that he should recover

his whip, and put fresh mettle into his steeds. Nor did she stop

there, but, overtaking the car of Eumelus, she broke the yoke which

coupled his horses, so that they reared violently in opposite

directions, and the pole of the car was dashed to the ground. Thus

suddenly arrested at the height of his speed, Eumelus rolled headlong

from the car, and sustained woeful damage. The skin was torn from his

elbows and nose and mouth, his forehead was severely bruised, and he

lay for a while senseless where he fell. This mishap secured an easy

victory for Diomede. Avoiding the wreck, he pressed onwards, leaving

the whole field far behind, turned the goal successfully, and drove at

an easy gallop along the homeward track.

He was followed at a long distance by Menelaus, now second in the race;

and the third place was held by Antilochus, whose ambition had been

fired by the unlooked-for good fortune of Diomede, so that he hoped by

some similar accident to obtain at least the second prize. Cheering on

his horses, he went hard in pursuit of Menelaus, who was just then

approaching a difficult piece of ground, where the course had been

hollowed out by the winter rains. The place was too narrow to allow

two cars to pass, and Antilochus determined to secure the lead before

Menelaus had time to reach the broad course on the other side of the

ravine. Accordingly he plied the lash unsparingly, and overtook

Menelaus at the moment when he was about to enter the neck of the dry

watercourse. "Keep back!" shouted Menelaus in alarm. "Do not try to

pass me here, or you will wreck both our cars."

Antilochus pretended not to hear, and drove on harder than ever, so

that Menelaus, who was a timid driver, was compelled to rein in his

horses and let him go by.

While the race was being thus run, with varying turns of fortune, the

chieftains assembled round Achilles were sitting in their places,

waiting for the return of the cars, and discussing the chances of the

drivers. Presently Idomeneus, who sat somewhat apart from the rest, in

a position which gave him a long view over the course, cried out

excitedly: "Diomede is leading! I can see the white mark on the face

of one of the horses, which shows that he is one of the Trojan

stallions--the red chestnut, with a mark like a half-moon on his

forehead. Look out, some of you who have younger eyes than mine, and

see if I am right."

"Hold thy peace, old prater!" said Ajax, son of Oileus, roughly. "We

can see nothing yet--neither canst thou. Eumelus was leading when we

saw him last, and doubtless he is leading still."

"Thou mannerless fellow!" answered Idomeneus hotly. "Foremost in a

brawl, and in all else the least of the Greeks! Come, let us lay a

wager, and Agamemnon shall hold the stakes; or art thou afraid to back

thy saucy tongue?"

Ajax started up in a rage, hurling abuse at the Cretan veteran, and

words would have soon led to blows, had not Achilles interposed his

authority to put an end to the quarrel. "For shame!" he said, rising

from his seat, "I wonder to hear you, two men of name and high station,

wrangling like boors. What avails this idle contention? Wait but a

moment, and the winner will be here to answer for himself."

Even as he spoke, a loud huzza was heard, and a moment after, the

Trojan car, driven by Diomede, turned the last corner, and came racing

lightly down the last straight stretch of the course, until it was

pulled up before the chair of Achilles. Sthenelus was standing ready

to welcome his comrade, and the first prize--a female slave, and a huge

cauldron for heating water for the bath--was forthwith delivered to the

victor.

After a long interval Antilochus came in, driving at a heavy gallop,

and hotly pursued by Menelaus, who was gaining at every stride, and had

by this time reduced the wide gap which had separated them to a mere

hand's-breadth. His horses were displaying splendid mettle, especially

the mare Arthe, who had been given to Agamemnon by a wealthy noble of

Sicyon, as the price of his exemption from serving in the war; and if

the course had been a bowshot longer he would have passed Antilochus,

and taken the second prize. As it was, he came in third, but those who

stood near as he was dismounting could see that he was red with

indignation, and big with some grievance, real or supposed.

The fourth was Meriones, who was a poor driver, and whose steeds were

the weakest; and last of all came Eumelus, with face sorely disfigured,

dragging his wrecked car behind him, and driving before him his horses.

"The last man is the best!" cried Achilles, moved to pity by his

ill-fortune. "How say you, sirs? Shall we not give him the second

prize?" The proposal found general approval, excepting, of course,

with Antilochus, who loudly protested against such an award. "Thou art

no friend of mine, Achilles," he said angrily, "if thou deprive me of

the gift which I have fairly earned. Prizes are given to reward the

winners, not to console the unlucky. If you wish to be generous, you

can make Eumelus happy by bestowing on him some other gift, of equal or

greater value, out of the rich store which is laid up in your tent.

But this prize is mine, and I will not give her up no, not if I have to

fight for her."

So saying, he seized the halter of the mare, who was tethered near,

with her foal, to be given to him who won the second place.

The great Achilles smiled indulgently at the defiant attitude of

Antilochus, who was very dear to him. "It shall be as you say," he

replied. "The prize is yours, and to Eumelus I will give the corslet

of Asteropæus, which I won in the battle yesterday." Automedon brought

the corslet--a curious piece of work, finely fashioned in brass, with a

casting of white metal--and Eumelus' eyes glistened with pleasure as he

received it.

But the storm which had been lowering in the face of Menelaus ever

since Antilochus had passed him now burst. Having caused the herald to

proclaim silence he took the staff from his hands, as a sign that he

had an important statement to make, and standing up before the whole

assembly proclaimed his wrongs to the ears of all. "I am astonished,"

he said, "at the conduct of Antilochus. He has beaten me in the race

by a trick, though his horses are far inferior to mine in any fair

trial of speed. I appeal to all those present to say whether it is not

so. If he denies it, let him take his whip in his hand, and holding

his horses by the rein swear a solemn oath, in the name of Poseidon,

the god of horsemanship, that he did not hinder me by fraud in the

race."

Menelaus was clearly in the wrong, indeed, his whole plea was absurd;

for nothing but his own faint-heartedness had lost him the second

prize. But out of respect to his high rank and amiable character

Antilochus was willing to appease him. Accordingly he brought the mare

with her foal to Menelaus, and placing the bridle in his hand said

respectfully: "Spare me thy reproaches, gentle prince! I yield to thee

the prize, and would sacrifice much more than this, rather than lose

thy favour and incur the anger of heaven."

As falls the refreshing dew on the bristling ears of barley, when the

crops are ripening, so fell the soft answer of Antilochus on the

Spartan prince's heart, and the sharp stings of resentment pricked him

no more. "Thou shalt have the prize," he said mildly, "though it is

mine by right. Thou art not wont to be so heedless of what is due to

others: but this time thy young blood didst get the mastery of thy

better sense. Take heed that thou art not so reckless again. I have

yielded to thee in this for thy father's sake, and for thine also; for

ye have both suffered many things in my cause." And so the dispute,

which threatened to disturb the harmony of the meeting, was happily

ended.

Five prizes had been offered for the race, and as Eumelus had received

a special gift, the fifth prize, a drinking goblet, still remained

unclaimed. Observing this, Achilles seized the occasion of showing his

esteem for the venerable King of Pylos. So he took the cup, and going

to the place where Nestor was sitting put it in his hands. "Take this,

father," he said, "as a memorial of our lost Patroclus, in whose honour

we are met to-day. Thou art full of years and honours, and deservest

the highest prize of all, though thou canst not strive with young men

in boxing, or in wrestling, or in speed of foot."

"Thou sayest truly, my son," answered the old man, "my feet are heavy

with age, and my arms dart not nimbly from the shoulder, as they did of

yore. Yet the day has been when none could vie with me in feats of

strength and skill. Well do I remember the funeral games of a noble

prince of Elis, where I won the prize in every contest, except only in

the chariot race, and then I was overmatched by numbers, for the

winning car had two drivers, one plying the lash, and the other

managing the reins. Alas for my youth! Alas for my vanished strength!

Now I must be content to see others excel, though once I was mighty

among the mightiest. Let then the games proceed, and receive an old

man's blessing for thy kindly gift."