fell over his eyes, and he knew no more. When he awoke the apple and
the goddesses had vanished away, and OEnone was bending over him
weeping.
"Alas," she said, "my father, whose stream runs at thy feet, has told
me thy choice, Paris, and I am come to bid thee farewell."
"Farewell, OEnone? Why farewell?" he cried, and stretched out his
arms to her. The flame of Aphrodite still burned in his heart, and to
his eyes OEnone had never looked more fair than now.
"Because of Aphrodite's promise," she answered.
"Ah, OEnone!" he cried, and took her in his arms, "now I know what
that promise meant. Thou art the fairest of women, and thou art mine,
beloved, and Aphrodite's promise was fulfilled ere she made it."
"Nay, nay, that is not what she meant. I may be fair, Paris, yet I am
no woman, but a child of the mountain waters. One day thou wilt forget
me, and thy heart will turn to thine own kind. In that day Aphrodite
has promised that the fairest of women shall be thine, and she will
surely keep her word."
"Thou art woman enough for me," he said, "and I shall never want any
other than thee." He kissed her, and comforted her as best he could.
The hours fled by like minutes, the moon rose high in heaven, and one
by one the stars came out, yet still they sat and talked of love, and
of how they would be faithful to each other always. In like manner day
after day passed by, and no two lovers in all the land were happier
than Paris and OEnone.
Now it chanced that about this time Menelaus, King of Sparta, came to
Troy, at the command of the oracle at Delphi. For a year past his land
had been laid waste by a grievous famine, and when he inquired the
cause of it, the oracle bade him go to Troy and offer sacrifices at
the tomb of Lycus and Chimæreus, the sons of Prometheus, for until
their spirits were appeased the land of Sparta would be barren, and
her sons would die of hunger in her streets. So Menelaus set sail for
Troy, and Priam and all his house received him with joy. They held
great feasts in his honour, and treated him hospitably, as befitted
the king of a mighty people. When he had performed his task, and the
time had come for him to return, he said to Priam,
"My friend, thou hast treated me right royally, and I in my turn would
fain do thee some service. Say, wilt thou not sail with me to Sparta,
and see my palace, which shineth as the sun for splendour, and Helen,
my wife, who is the fairest in a land where the women are fairer than
all other women?"
But Priam shook his head.
"I am an old man, Menelaus, and my travelling days are done. But if
thou wouldst truly do me a service, thou wilt take with thee my son
Paris as thy guest. He is of an age now to travel and see strange
lands, and I could not entrust him to better hands than thine. Say,
wilt thou take him or no?"
"I will take him right gladly," answered Menelaus, "seeing that since
I cannot have thyself, no other man would please me so well as thy
son. Bid the young man be ready, and he shall sail with me and my
folk."
When Paris heard the news, he was glad; for never in his life had he
set foot outside the land of Troy, and he longed to see the riches of
Menelaus and all the wonders of his palace in Sparta. Ere the sun had
risen he was in the woods of Ida telling OEnone of the voyage he
must take.
"Nay, grieve not, beloved," he said, as she turned her face sadly
away; "for a few short months I must leave thee, but I will come back
to thee with many a long tale of the wonders I have seen. There is
nought like travel to make a man hold up his head among his fellows,
and the seeing of strange things that others have not seen."
"There is nought like travel," she said, "to make a man forget his
home, and love the new things better than the old."
"Dost thou think me so faithless, OEnone?"
"Many men are faithful till they meet temptation," she replied.
"Had I listened to thee, I should still have been a shepherd on the
mountains, knowing neither kith nor kin."
"It would have been happier so," said she.
"OEnone, I must not heed thy fears. Remember, I am a king's son, and
I must live my life as befits a man, and not be ever held back by a
woman's arms."
"The gods grant thou mayest always think so, Paris. Fare thee well,
then; I will stay thee no longer, but I will watch for thy coming as
never woman watched before. If evil fortune befall thee, Paris, come
back to me, and I will save thee."
So, with many a promise not to forget her, but to come back to her as
soon as might be, he left her and set sail with Menelaus.
And they crossed the blue Ægæan and came to glorious Sparta, lying low
among the circling hills. And Menelaus made his guest welcome, and
showed him all the splendours of his palace, with its inlaid columns
and its frieze of gold and blue. His stable and horses did he show
him, and the stadium where the races were run and his treasure-house
beneath the ground. Last of all he took him to Helen, his wife.
Now Helen, fairer than the sun in heaven, was sitting among her
maidens, and when her lord and Paris entered, she rose from her chair
and came forward with a smile to greet them. In the curve of her neck,
in the gleam of her hair, there was magic, and a witchery about her
face and form that no man could withstand; for she was the fairest of
all women under the sun, that ever had been or ever should be in time
to come. Many a man in his day loved Helen of Sparta, and many a man
did she love in return; for so the gods had made her, exceeding fair
and exceeding fickle, a joy and a curse among men.
As Paris looked upon her, her beauty reached his heart like the fumes
of wine, and he forgot himself and his native land and OEnone; he
forgot all pride and manliness, and the ties of honour that bound him
to his host--all but his passion for Helen. Day and night he thought
of her and of her alone, and of how he might make her his own; and day
and night he plotted and planned, and at last he gained his end. For
Aphrodite, true to her word, helped him, as she alone could do, and
kindled in the heart of Helen an answering flame, making her for the
time being love Paris more than Menelaus, her lord, or any other man.
And she cast dust in the eyes of Menelaus, so that he saw not how the
two lived only for each other, nor suspected his guest of any
treachery. So one dark night they fled away together to Gythium, and
from thence they sailed to Cranaë, and were wedded, and had joy of
their love, forgetful of all else.
OEnone, meanwhile, wandered lonely about the woods and groves of
Ida. With a heavy heart she had watched the ships of Menelaus sail
away, and now, day by day, she would go down to the shore and look out
across the sea towards Hellas. High up upon a rock she would sit and
sigh for him.
"Ah, Paris, between thee and me lies many a weary league of barren
waters and many a misty mountain chain. But my heart is with thee in
that strange new land. Oh, Paris, forget me not, but come back to me
soon, beloved."
Thus would she sigh day by day; but he came not. Month after month
passed by, and still he came not, nor any news of him, and his father
and all the city were troubled to know what might have befallen him.
So they manned a ship, and sent it out to Sparta to get news, and in
time it returned home to tell how Paris and Helen had fled from
Menelaus, and how Menelaus had set out in pursuit, and had followed
them to the land of Egypt. After that no man knew where they had gone,
or whether, perchance, Paris and Menelaus had met in deadly battle and
fallen each by the other's hand, or what might have chanced. All the
land was plunged in woe to think that Paris had so far forgotten his
honour as to steal away the wife of his host. But still they kept
watch by day and by night, in case he should come back and be
persuaded to give her up and make what amends he could.
Paris, meanwhile, with Helen, had fled before Menelaus from Egypt, and
had taken refuge in Phoenicia; and when he traced them there, they
fled once more and took ship to return to Troy; for they could not
live for ever as wanderers on the face of the earth. With the silence
of shame the folk received them at the harbour, and amid silence, that
spoke more than words, they made their way through the city and came
and stood before Priam in his halls, with eyes downcast upon the
ground. Now Priam had heard of their coming, and had prepared in his
mind a wrathful speech wherewith to greet his son and the woman who
had led him astray. But when he looked upon Helen his wrath melted
away like frost before the sun; for she stood like a fair lily that
some careless hand has half plucked from its stem, so that its head
hangs drooping towards the dust. Even so did she stand, with the
tear-drops falling from her eyes. And all the wrathful words faded
from his mind, so that he spoke quite otherwise than he had planned.
"My children," he said gently, "come hither to me."
They came and knelt before him, and he laid his hands upon their young
shoulders, as they bowed their heads and wept upon his knees.
"Ye have grievously sinned, my children," he said, "and ye are
learning, all too late, how bitter is the fruit of sin. There is but
one course before you. Paris, give back the woman thou hast stolen,
and make what honourable amends thou canst. And thou, Helen, go home
with thy lord when he comes for thee, and be a faithful wife to him
always, and make him forget that ever thou didst play him false."
"O King," she said, "thou knowest not what thou askest. If thou givest
me up to Menelaus he will slay me, or else my life will be a dog's
life in his halls; for his heart is no softer than a flint, though his
tongue be smooth. O my father, cast me not out from thy halls. If I
have sinned in leaving Menelaus, shall I not sin again in leaving
Paris? Or shall my sin be less if I flee from the man I love, to go
with him I love not? Who maketh two hearts to cleave together? Who but
Aphrodite all-powerful? Must we set at nought the will of Heaven for
the sake of laws that man has made? O Priam, my father, forsake me
not, but keep me in thy halls."
And she clasped her hands about his knees and looked up into his face.
Beneath her gaze all his resolve gave way, and he took her face
between his hands and kissed her.
"My daughter," he said, "thou shalt stay with me as long as it shall
please thee."
Thus did it come to pass that she made her home in Troy, and Priam,
the king, became an accomplice in her sin; for the gods had so made
her that the hearts of men were as wax between the fingers of Helen of
Sparta.
In time came Menelaus, and stood in the halls of Priam, and demanded
back his wife. And they offered him a ransom--gold and precious
stones--but he flung it back in their faces.
"Think you that gold can pay for a living soul?" he cried. "Only a
life can pay for a life, and many a life shall you pay for the sake of
Helen. Look to your battlements and towers, O Priam; they must be
strong indeed to stand against the host that I shall bring behind me
from Hellas. Farewell, till we meet again in battle."
And he strode from the hall in anger, and sailed away to Sparta, to
rouse up all the heroes of Hellas to take part in his quarrel with
Troy.
Meanwhile in Troyland the forge fires burnt night and day, and the
hammer rang loud upon the anvil. The red-hot iron was drawn from the
furnace and bound hissing about the chariot-wheel; shields were
stretched and swords were fashioned, and the ash-tree was felled upon
the mountain for the handle of the tapering spear. Among the men many
a heart beat high with hope; for what is there like war, if a man is
brave and strong, to bring him renown, and make his name live among
his fellows? But in the women's hall many a silent tear was shed; for
what is there like war to bring sorrow to a woman's heart, when she
sees her dear ones going forth to battle and knows not whether she
shall ever look on their faces again, or, perchance, see them carried
home with a gaping spear-wound in the side? And when the battle is
raging she can do nought but pray. So they cursed Helen and her beauty
in their hearts, and wished that even now King Priam would send her
back and stave off the war from Troy.
But Paris and Helen cared for none of these things; while others
worked and wept, they dallied in each other's arms and forgot all
else, or hoped that when Menelaus reached home his anger would cool,
and that he would find the kings of Hellas none too willing to leave
their lands for the sake of another's wife. But in this they hoped in
vain, and reckoned not how dear a man may hold his country's honour.
For one dark night the hosts of Hellas pulled in to shore, and drew up
their boats upon the beach and pitched their camp, and when the
morning dawned their men were thick as flies about the walls of Troy.
So did it come to pass that Cassandra's words came true, and for many
a weary year the tide of war surged about the city like a wave of the
sea, and Paris slunk through the streets like a beaten cur, not daring
to look his fellows in the face. For they hated him because he had
brought war upon his country, and yet, though the quarrel was of his
own making, he was ever the last to take the field and ever the first
to retreat. So low had his manhood sunk that he thought far more of
reaching Helen with an unbroken skin than of winning fame upon the
field of battle.
But one day matters reached a pass when Menelaus met him face to face
upon the field, and challenged him to single combat beneath the walls
of Troy. He who should kill his man should have Helen for wife, and
the war should end, and no more lives be spent in vain for the sake of
a quarrel that concerned but two. But Paris thought of Helen waiting
in her chamber, and looked upon Menelaus, standing sword in hand
before him, strong as a lion in his wrath. Then his heart gave way
within him, and he turned and fled from the face of his foe back into
the ranks of the Trojans. He would have fled from the fight
altogether, but that in the path of his retreat stood Hector; the
nodding plumes waved terrible upon his helmet, and he leant on his
two-handed sword and frowned upon his brother, for he had seen how he
fled from Menelaus. When Paris saw him he fell back ashamed, but
Hector stood aside to let him pass.
"Thou chicken-hearted mannikin," he cried, "get thee gone, and let
others fight thy battle, that the courage of the Trojans be not a
by-word among the nations."
And Paris slunk past him with his eyes upon the ground, and went home
to Helen in her chamber.
But when the fight was over Hector came and dragged him from his
hiding-place as a dog drags out a rat into the light.
"Thou smooth-faced deceiver," he said, "is this the way a man should
fight when he has sailed across the high seas, and stolen away the
fairest of women from a man mighty in battle? Are we to make the name
of Troy a laughing-stock among our foes, and hang our heads in shame
when men shall say, 'In strength and might they are like the immortal
gods, these Trojans, but their courage is the courage of the deer,
that flees swiftly through the forest when he hears the bark of the
hounds? Thou coward, would thou hadst never been born, or hadst died
upon the mountains ere there was time to bring dishonour on thy
country."
And Paris trembled before his brother's wrath, but some of his old
manhood returned to him.
"Thou speakest as all men speak who know not Aphrodite's power," he
said. "Nevertheless, if thou wilt have it so, send forth a herald to
Menelaus, and tell him I accept his challenge, and will fight him for
the sake of Helen, his wife. And let the hosts of the Achæans and the
hosts of Troy lay down their arms, and we two will stand up alone
between them, and whichsoever of us shall fall in death, his side
shall give up Helen to the victor; and the war shall cease, and peace
be made between the nations."
So Hector sent forth a herald to Menelaus, and the two hosts drew
close together on the plain till there was but a narrow space between
them, and they laid aside their arms, and some lay upon the ground or
sat, and others stood behind to watch the fight in the midst. And
Paris put on his shining armour and his helmet with the nodding
plumes, and went and stood face to face with Menelaus. In the sight of
all the people Hector prayed,
"O Zeus, who rulest from on high, grant that he who is the offender
may fall in the fight, and his spirit flee away to Hades, that the
land may have peace and the people rest from war."
And every man in his heart prayed likewise, for all were sickened at
the long years of fruitless strife.
Then Hector shook the lots in his helmet, to see who should be the
first to hurl his brazen spear, and the lot of Paris fell forth upon
the ground. And he brandished his spear above his head, and hurled it
with all his might, and it crashed against the shield of Menelaus; but
the stout shield turned it aside, and it fell powerless upon the
ground. Thereupon Menelaus in his turn hurled his spear, and it
pierced through the shield of his foe, and would have brought black
death to his heart had he not swerved aside, so that the point but
grazed his corselet. But Menelaus, seeing his advantage, drew forth
his sword and rushed upon him, and felled him a mighty blow upon his
helmet, hoping to cleave it in two. But the sword shivered to pieces
in his hand as he struck. Then, with an oath, he cast aside the hilt
and leapt upon Paris, and seized him by the horsehair plume upon his
helmet, and dragged him down. And the leathern thong that held the
helmet was drawn tight about his throat, so that the breath was
wellnigh squeezed out of him, and Menelaus was bearing him in triumph
towards the Achæan host. But Aphrodite was mindful of her favourite,
and, ere it was too late, she made the stout ox-hide give way beneath
the weight of his body, and the helmet slipped off his head. Then she
wrapped a mist about his body, so that no man should see him, and bore
him away through the midst of the Trojan host, and laid him upon his
bed. In the likeness of an aged dame she went and stood beside Helen
on the battlements, where she leant with the other Trojan women
looking down upon the plain, and she told her how she had borne forth
Paris from the fight and saved him, and that now he lay upon his bed
and longed for her. So straightway Helen left the others, and went and
sat down by Paris. When she saw him lying there, without so much as
a scratch upon his body, she was ashamed for him, and began to upbraid
him.
[Illustration: Menelaus was bearing him in triumph towards the Achaean
host.]
"So thou hast come back from the battle, Paris, and couldst not endure
to stand up to god-like Menelaus. Would that he had taken thee, for he
is a better man than thou art! Go forth now, thou craven, and
challenge him once more to battle, and stay thy ground like a man. Lo!
thou art vanished away like smoke from the field, and both the hosts
are making mock of thee."
Then her heart smote her for fear he should take her at her word and
go back, and she fell upon her knees beside him, and took his hand in
hers and wept.
"Ah, Paris," she cried, "go not forth, I pray thee, but stay with me.
I, even I, do bid thee stay, lest thou fall by the hand of Menelaus,
and I be left all desolate without thee."
"Ah, Helen," he said, "upbraid me not, for I love thee above all else.
Some other day I will return and fight with Menelaus, but now I will
stay with thee, and we will have joy of each other and forget all
else,"
So whilst Menelaus searched raging through all the host, like a lion
seeking for his prey, Paris and Helen dallied in each other's arms,
hidden from the eyes of men. An ill reckoning would it have been for
Paris had the men of Troy known where to find him, for they hated him
like black death, and would have given him up to the hands of
Menelaus, to do by him as he would.
From that day forth Paris scarce dared to show his face among his
fellows; but when Hector urged him, and he could stand out against his
taunts no longer, he would go forth into the battle, but disguised as
a common soldier, with no mark upon him of his rank and birth. So did
he hope to escape death and flee home as swift as might be to the arms
of Helen. In this he succeeded full well for a time, but a day came
when no disguise could save him and he could not flee away. For in the
ranks against him stood mighty Philoctetes, with his bow and his
poisoned arrows. And he drew his bow and prayed to Zeus in his heart,
"O Zeus almighty, that drivest the black thundercloud before thee, do
thou guide mine arrow aright, that it may work havoc among our foes
and bring glory to the host of the Achæans. In thy hands I leave it."
Then he drew back the string, so that the mighty bow was wellnigh bent
in two, and the arrow sped with a whirr far over the foremost ranks of
the Trojans to the rear part of the host. And it fell upon Paris, and
pierced between the joints of his armour right through into his side.
With a groan he fell, and black night came over his eyes, and he lay
as one dead upon the field. When the fight was over, and either side
was gathering up the dead and wounded from the plain, they came upon
Paris among the rest; but till they had drawn off his helmet they knew
him not, for he was dressed as a common soldier. When they saw who it
was, they put him reverently on a bier apart, for he was a king's son,
and had been a brave man once, and death can wipe out many an old
score of bitterness and hatred. So they bore him upon their shoulders
silently to the palace of Priam his father, and laid him upon his
couch. And they brought him wine and cordials, for his heart beat
faintly still within his breast. For a moment he revived, and spoke in
broken whispers.
"My friends, I am dying," he said, "and I would die in the pure free
air of heaven, away from cities and from men and from my shame. O my
father, bid them carry me forth upon Ida, and there let them leave me,
and return no more till they know the last breath must have gone from
my body. Then let them burn me there, where once I was brave and free;
and as the fire of my burning shall die out, so let my name die out
from among you--my name and my dishonour."
So did he speak, and fell back exhausted, with the vision before his
eyes of the groves of Ida and of OEnone, and of how she rose from
the waters and loved him in the days of his innocent youth. And he
remembered her words:
"O Paris, in that day come back to me, and I will heal thee of thy
hurt."
And he wondered whether she would keep her word and forgive him and
heal him, so that they could go back to their old life upon the
mountains. But even if she would not, he felt that he would rather die
there than in the airless city.
So they wrapped him about in warm coverings--for it was winter-time,
and the snow lay white upon the ground--and carried him forth upon
Ida. And they placed a blazing torch above his head and left him on
the lonely heights, and the whispering pine-trees kept watch above him
as they tossed their arms in the cold north wind.
From the shadow of a boulder OEnone watched the procession wind back
down the mountain-track, and when they had passed out of sight she
came forth from her hiding-place. The tale of Paris and Helen she
knew full well, and the reason of the war, for she had listened to the
talk of the shepherds on the mountains. But still in her heart she
loved Paris; and when she saw him carried forth to die, she remembered
how she had promised to heal him of his hurt, for she knew many a
magic charm, and she could heal him if she would. So now she drew near
to him out of the forest, and bent over his couch, and her red-gold
hair fell soft about his face. But the fire of fever burnt hot within
him, and he knew her not; but the face that came before his wandering
mind was the face of Helen.
"Helen!" he whispered, "Helen!"
At the sound of that hated name a great bitterness came into the heart
of OEnone.
"Must I heal thee for the sake of Helen?" she cried, and turned and
fled through the darkened pines, on, on, she knew not where, and threw
herself at last upon the grass and wept.
And so the torch burned low above his head and cast a dim red glow
upon the snow, and he died alone of his fever upon the mountains, and
she healed him not of his hurt.