Thetis Promises to Aid the Angry Achilles and Begs Jupiter’s
Assistance—Juno is Angry—Agamemnon and the Other Princes Summon the
Greeks to Battle
Achilles gazed gloomily after the men, then arose quickly and seated
himself far from his companions on the beach, looking moodily out over
the dark waters. He bethought him of his mother, Thetis, who lived in
the blue depths of the sea, spread out his arms, and prayed to her for
aid. She heard him and hastened to appear. Floating over the sea like a
cloud, she seated herself beside her weeping son and tenderly caressed
him. “Dear son, why dost thou weep?” she asked. “What troubles thee?
Speak! Conceal nothing from me.” With deep sighs he related what had
happened to him, begging his mother to avenge his wrongs and to
intercede for him with Jupiter.
It was early on the twelfth day since Achilles had retired from the fray
when Thetis rose from the dark waves and ascended the heights of
Olympus. She found the mighty Jupiter seated on the summit of the
mountain, apart from the other gods, bowed herself before him, embraced
his knees with her left hand, and caressed his chin with her right hand.
“Father Jupiter,” she said coaxingly, “if thou lovest me, grant me a
boon and show favor to my son, who has but a short life to live. Give
him redress against Agamemnon and let the Trojans prevail, until the
Achaians shall be obliged to recompense him with redoubled honors, for
this base insult.”
The father of the gods and men began dejectedly: “Thou wilt involve me
in strife and enmity with Juno. Even now she quarrels with me and says I
am aiding the Trojans. Leave me quickly, that she may not see thee, and
I will grant thy request with a nod.”
The goddess descended from the shining heights of Olympus into the
depths of the sea, while Jupiter arose and went to his palace. When the
gods saw him coming they all left their places and went respectfully to
meet him. He approached the throne and seated himself. But his jealous
consort had noticed Thetis and began straightway to pick a quarrel with
him. “Yes, I saw the silver-footed Thetis at thy knee, saw thy nod, and
saw her depart content. Doubtless thou art about to honor Achilles once
more, castigate the Achaians, and protect the insolent Trojans.”
“Thou art continually spying upon me,” answered the ruler. “But it shall
do thee no good—I do as I please. Therefore sit still and be silent, for
shouldst thou arouse my anger, all the immortals together could not save
thee from my powerful hands.”
Thus spake the Thunderer, and Juno was frightened. All the gods were
sorry for her, especially Hephæstus, the artist god of fire; for she was
his mother, and he had already learned that Jove’s threats often
received terrible fulfilment. He began in his mother’s behalf: “It is
intolerable that thou shouldst quarrel over mortals. I admonish thee,
mother, to bear thyself acceptably, that our father may be content and
our feast be undisturbed.” He took his goblet, and handing it to his
mother, said: “Be patient, dear mother, even though grieved at heart,
that I may not have to look upon thy punishment. Once before when he
struck thee and I attempted to restrain him, he took me by the heel and
cast me down into the air, so that I fell for a whole day before I
struck the earth, and I have limped ever since.”
The mother smiled and took the cup, and Hephæstus filled the goblets of
the other gods. Then Apollo with his muses broke forth in sweet song,
and thus the day passed among the immortals in blissful contentment.
When Helios had put out his flaming torch, each went to his dwelling to
rest. Jove was the only one whom sleep fled. He meditated anxiously how
he might favor Achilles by defeating the Greeks. He sent a deceptive
dream to Agamemnon, telling him to prepare for battle and that it would
be easy for him to conquer the city. As soon as he awoke, Agamemnon told
the other princes of his dream. The assembly was called together.
Agamemnon was uncertain whether he dared call upon the discontented
army, and wishing first to feel his way, he began to talk of their
return. “Here we have lain for ten years,” he said. “The ships are
rotting, the anchor ropes are mouldering, and we have as yet
accomplished nothing. Indeed the gods seem to be against us. Therefore
my advice is that we quickly put to sea and sail for home before the
Trojans do us a greater mischief. You all must see that we cannot take
the city.”
He had scarcely ended when the whole company rushed exultantly away to
the ships, for all were anxious to return to their homes. This was more
than the king had expected and he looked on in despair, while the other
brave leaders gnashed their teeth. They were powerless to stay the
tumultuous rabble until Ulysses, hurrying forward with quick presence of
mind, admonished leaders and men to return to the assembly. “Do not be
in such a hurry,” he would say when he met one of the princes; “hear the
end. Thou dost not know the king’s mind yet. He but wished to test us,
and woe to thee if the mighty king’s wrath overtake thee.” Then he drove
the people back, and they came with a roar like angry waves breaking on
a rocky shore. They knew Ulysses’ warlike spirit and feared he might
advise renewal of the struggle. Only respect for his great authority
moved them to return.
When all the princes were seated and order had once more been restored,
Ulysses was about to take up the sceptre. Suddenly Thersites pushed
forward. He was despised by the whole army as a quarrelsome, insolent
fellow, who seldom let an opportunity go by to insult the princes, not
excepting Agamemnon himself, with mocking, rebellious words. He was the
ugliest of all the Greeks, having a lame foot, a deformed shoulder, a
pointed, bald head, and a cast in one eye.
“What wilt thou now, Atreus’ son?” he shrieked at Agamemnon. “I should
have thought thou hadst collected enough money and valuable spoils to
have satisfied thy avarice. Dost thou desire still more? Must the
Achaians still sacrifice themselves to fill thy insatiable throat? Are
ye not ashamed, ye princes, to suffer such a king to lead ye to
destruction? But ye are women or ye would desert him and embark without
him.”
“Silence, foolish babbler!” cried Ulysses. “If I ever again hear thee
slander one of us so shamelessly, true as I live, I will tear thy
clothes from thy body and whip thee out of the assembly so that the
whole camp shall hear thy cries!” Thus spake the hero, beating him about
the back and shoulders with the sceptre, so that he cowered down and
then ran away crying out.
The heralds now commanded silence as Ulysses again stood up to speak.
Turning to Agamemnon he said: “Oh son of Atreus, how badly have the
Achaians kept faith with thee. They promised not to return home until we
had conquered Troy, and now they act like children. I do not blame
anyone for longing for his home after ten years of absence. But just
because we have waited so long, it were a shame to return when we are so
near the goal. For we must succeed or all the signs of the immortal Jove
are a mockery. Did not Calchas tell us, back in Aulis, how it would be?
Do ye not remember the sparrow’s nest in the beautiful maple tree near
our altar? I can still see the spotted serpent gliding up its trunk and
swallowing the eight young birds and catching the frightened mother bird
at last by the wing. We were all alarmed at the omen, but Calchas
interpreted the occurrence favorably. He said: ‘The war shall consume
nine years, but in the tenth, Troy shall fall.’ Behold, friends, the
prophecy is about to be fulfilled, and will ye now flee? Wait but a
short time until we have taken the proud city of Priam, and then let us
depart laden with rich booty and crowned with immortal glory.”
Old Nestor next arose to persuade those who still hesitated. “That is
right,” he said. “Let reason speak to you. Shall our great plans go up
in smoke and shall our sacred vows to Menelaus and his good brother,
Agamemnon, be broken? Indeed no! Lead the Achaians into battle, great
king, and most of them will, I hope, cheerfully follow thee. Let the men
be gathered together by tribes, that each may fight for his own blood.
Then thou shalt clearly see whether the gods protect the city or whether
it is the cowardice and ignorance of our army which defeats us.”
“Well spoken!” cried Agamemnon. “We must not rest until the fortress is
taken. Jove will surely aid us. His flashing lightnings as we left Aulis
are the surest pledge of this. The city would already be ours had I ten
men in my army as wise as thou art, O Nestor, and alas! had Achilles not
left us—Achilles, whom I have wounded so sorely. But come! Let everyone
prepare for the battle. Let us quickly refresh and strengthen ourselves
and then advance upon the city in a body.”
With these words he dismissed the assembly and the people streamed back
to the tents to arm themselves and take some food. The king invited all
the chiefs to join him at breakfast in his tent. Nestor, Idomeneus, the
two brave Ajaxes, Diomedes, and Ulysses were there, besides his brother
Menelaus. They took a steer, strewing sacred barley upon it, and while
they all stood about it in a circle, Agamemnon lifted up his voice and
prayed to Jupiter for victory. Alas! he did not know that the god had
turned against him.
The drivers harnessed their horses, the warriors donned helmet and
shield and took up their lances, and the heralds lifted up their mighty
voices above the din, to call the stragglers together. Company after
company, they assembled like a swarm of migrating birds. Then the
princes hastily mustered the ranks and arranged the races and tribes as
Nestor had advised. But the king called to them in a loud voice to fight
bravely, and when all was in readiness they swept forwards with a din
and outcry, like a flock of screeching cranes.