THE WHITE HORSES OF RHESUS
Sound was the sleep of the Greek chiefs that night, but Agamemnon the
king slept not. From his enemies’ camp came the sound of pipe and flute
and laughter of men, as the Trojans feasted and made merry in the red
light of their camp-fires. As he looked seawards at the ships of the
sleeping Greeks, his heart was heavy within him and he groaned aloud.
On his feet he bound his sandals, over his shoulders did he throw his
great mantle of a tawny lion’s skin, and, grasping his spear, he went
forth into the night to take counsel of wise Nestor.
Neither to Menelaus came there sleep, for his heart was full of fear
lest harm should come to the Greeks who had crossed the wide seas to
fight for his sake in Troyland.
[Illustration: Agamemnon heard the sound of pipe and flute and laughter
of men as the Trojans feasted and made merry (page 86)]
On his head he placed his bronze helmet, across his broad shoulders he
threw a leopard skin, and, spear in hand, went to seek his brother.
Down by the ships he found him, putting his armour on.
‘Why dost thou arm thyself, dear brother?’ he asked. ‘Wilt thou send
forth one of our comrades to spy on the Trojans? I fear me no man of
ours is of courage enough to go alone in the night and do so brave a
deed.’
Then did Agamemnon bid his brother go and awake the lords of his host
and call a council together, while he himself went to rouse Nestor, the
oldest of all the warriors.
And as they passed through the host they found the sentinels sitting
wide awake with their arms, like dogs that watch by a lonely sheepfold
amongst the hills and listen to the cries of the savage wild beasts
that come towards them through the woods.
Gladly did old Nestor see them.
‘Even so keep watch, dear children,’ he said, ‘lest we allow our
enemies to triumph over us.’
Out in the open field, beyond the deep trench which they had dug, the
chiefs of the Greeks sat themselves down in council.
To them, then, spake Nestor.
‘O friends,’ said he, ‘is there among you a man with heart so fearless
that all alone he will go into the camp of the Trojans this night and
there learn what are their plans for battle? If such an one there be,
and he return to us scathless, great will be his fame among all men,
and great the rewards that he wins.’
Then said Diomedes of the loud war-cry:
‘With willing heart will go, Nestor: yet if another man will come with
me, more comfort and courage will be ours.’
Many there were who asked with eagerness to be that one who should go
with Diomedes. But Agamemnon spoke.
‘Diomedes, joy of mine heart, verily shalt thou choose thine own
comrade,’ he said.
And Diomedes made answer:
‘If indeed I may choose, then shall I choose Odysseus, for with him as
comrade we might pass through raging flames and yet return in safety.’
‘Praise me not overmuch, Diomedes,’ said Odysseus, ‘but let us be
going. The night wanes, the stars have gone onward, and the dawn is
near.’
Then did they don their armour, and set forth, like two lions seeking
their prey, treading underfoot the men who lay still and dead in their
blood. And through the dark night they heard the shrill cry of a heron,
and knew it for an omen sent by the gods, a promise to them of victory.
In the Trojan camp was a council also held. And brave Hector offered
great rewards to the man who would go in the darkness to where the
Greek ships lay and find out how it fared with the men of Agamemnon,
and what plans were theirs.
And Dolon, the swift-runner and ill-favoured man, but one who owned
great riches of gold and bronze, stood up and said:
‘To the swift-sailing ships will I go as thy spy. But for reward must I
have the horses and bronze chariots of Achilles.’
‘No other man of the Trojans shall mount these horses,’ swore Hector.
Then Dolon took his bow, on his shoulders cast a great wolf-skin, on
his head drew his helmet of ferret-skin, and with his sharp javelin in
his hand, went forth towards the seashore.
In the darkness Odysseus heard his stealthy footsteps.
‘Lo, here is some man, Diomedes,’ he said; ‘I know not whether he be a
spy or a plunderer of the dead. But let him pass, and then will we rush
on him and take him.’
Turning from the path, they lay down amongst the dead bodies on the
plain, still and silent as those they lay beside.
But when Dolon had gone a little way, they ran after him, and Dolon,
when he heard them, stopped, thinking they were messengers from Hector,
coming to bid him return. Less than a spear’s-throw from him were they
when he knew them for foemen and fled before them.
But as two fierce hounds pursue a hare or a doe, so did Odysseus and
Diomedes hunt Dolon. They had wellnigh reached the trench where the
sentinels were placed when Diomedes called aloud:
‘Halt! or my spear shall pin thee dead to the ground!’
Thereat he hurled his spear, but not with the wish to smite Dolon.
Over his right shoulder it flew, burying its sharp point in the ground
in front of him. Green with fear, and with chattering teeth, Dolon
stopped, and Odysseus and Diomedes panting, came up to him, and laid
hold of him.
‘Take me alive!’ said Dolon, weeping, ‘and a mighty ransom of gold and
bronze and iron shall be yours if ye but spare my life.’
‘Fear not,’ said Odysseus, ‘but tell us truly why thou comest thus at
dead of night into the camp of thine enemies.’
Then did Dolon, the coward, tremblingly tell his tale, and reveal to
Odysseus and Diomedes all that Hector had bidden him do. At their
bidding, too, he told them how all the Trojan forces lay, and how best
they could win into the camp.
‘At the farthest point from the men of Troy are encamped the
Thracians,’ he said. ‘Rhesus is their king, and fit for a god is his
golden armour and his chariot of gold and silver. His, too, are the
fairest horses mine eyes have seen, of great strength and height,
whiter than snow, and swift as the wind.’
Eagerly did Odysseus and Diomedes listen. But when he had ended and
begged them to take him a prisoner to the ships, or to let him go free,
grimly did Diomedes look at him.
‘Good is thy news, Dolon,’ he said, ‘yet nevermore shalt thou have a
chance of playing the spy, or of fighting against the men of Greece.’
With that he raised his mighty sword, and ere Dolon could beg for mercy
he smote him on the neck. Cleanly was his head shorn off, and it rolled
in the dust at the feet of Diomedes. His casque of ferret-skin, and the
grey wolf-skin, and javelin and bow did Odysseus and Diomedes then take
from him and held them aloft, an offering to Athene. They placed them
on a tamarisk bush, raising on it a mark of long reeds and branches of
tamarisk, lest they might miss the place as they returned again ere
dawn.
Across the plain did they hasten then, until they came to the camp of
the Thracians. Deep was the sleep of the warriors who lay, each with
his arms beside him, and his two horses standing near at hand. And in
the midst of them lay Rhesus the king, his great white horses tethered
to his chariot of silver and gold.
‘Lo, here is the man, and here are the horses of which Dolon gave us
tidings,’ said Odysseus.
And thereupon did the slaying begin.
Like a lion that rends a flock of sheep without a shepherd, even so
did Diomedes slay the men of Thrace. On this side and on that he slew,
till the earth grew red with blood, and terrible was the groaning of
the dying men. Twelve men did he slay, and as he slew them, Odysseus
dragged them to the side that a way might be left clear for the white
horses of Rhesus. For he feared that panic might seize them were they
to step in the darkness upon the dead men.
The thirteenth man was King Rhesus himself. An evil dream made him draw
his breath hard and quick, but ere he could awake from sleep the sword
of Diomedes took his life away. Then did Odysseus drive the horses out
of the camp, smiting them with his bow, for he had no whip, and driving
them onwards.
To Diomedes he whistled, for a sign that he should cease from slaying
and follow him and their lordly spoil. Still did Diomedes linger,
pondering whether he should drag the chariot with him, or slay yet more
of the Thracians. And as he pondered, Athene came to him.
‘Return to the ships, Diomedes,’ she said, ‘lest another of the gods
arouse the Trojans, and in flight thou art driven before them.’
Even then, indeed, was Apollo arousing one of the kinsmen of Rhesus,
who with great lament saw the dead and dying men and knew that the
horses of the king had been stolen away.
But swiftly did Diomedes and Odysseus spring on the backs of the white
horses, and swift as the snowy foam on the crests of storm-driven waves
did they dash through the darkness back to the ships.
When they came to the tamarisk bush, where they had left the bloody
spoils of Dolon, Diomedes leapt to the ground, seized them and placed
them in the hands of Odysseus, and again mounted, and, lashing the
horses, dashed furiously onward.
The clang of the hoofs of the galloping horses struck first upon the
ears of old Nestor, and quickly did he and other lords of the Greeks go
to meet Diomedes and Odysseus.
Then did the two heroes rein in their horses and lightly spring to the
ground, and with hand-clasping and glad words were they welcomed by
their comrades.
And when he had told the tale of the slaying of the men of Thrace and
the taking of the horses of Rhesus, Odysseus, laughing, drove the
white steeds through the trench and stabled them beside the other
horses of Diomedes.
Then did he and Diomedes plunge into the sea and wash the sweat and
dust from off their limbs in the cold waves. Glad were their hearts
when they sat down to sup and poured forth an offering of honey-sweet
wine to Athene; but in the camp of the Trojans were there shame and
lamenting for the deeds that had been wrought in the third watch of the
night.