Meeting of the Armies—Menelaus and Paris—Agamemnon Leads the Greeks into
Battle
The Trojan nobles were holding a council of war before the palace when
Iris, a messenger from Jupiter, appearing in the shape of Priam’s son
Polites, joined them. He came from one of the watch towers and brought
the news that an incalculable number of Achaians was approaching.
Hastily the council broke up, each chief going to assemble his people,
that they might be ready to meet the Greeks before they should reach the
city wall. In their midst were many heroes, but distinguished amongst
them all for invincible strength and heroic courage were Hector, son of
Priam, several of his brothers, and also Æneas, a connection of the
royal house.
Masses of men now poured out of the open city gates and ranged
themselves in long lines of battle. The Achaians advanced ever nearer,
but could not be distinguished for the tremendous dust which arose
before them, enveloping them like a cloud. When they came to a
standstill the leaders at last recognized one another. In front of the
Trojans marched the godlike Paris, wearing a leopard skin, his bow slung
over his shoulder, his sword on his thigh, and swinging two javelins in
his right hand. With mocking words he challenged the bravest Achaians to
combat. His arch-enemy, Menelaus, was the first to hear him and his
heart swelled with anger, while he burned to meet the robber of his
honor. He guided his chariot toward him, sprang hastily down, and ran to
meet him, eager as a lion to spring upon its prey. The handsome youth
was frightened at his appearance and fled, vanishing among the throng of
Trojans.
His brother Hector saw his flight and was indignant at the sight.
“Coward,” he cried, “would that thou hadst never been born or else hadst
died ere ever thou didst learn to seduce women! Now thou hast made a
laughing-stock of thyself before both armies. I can only wonder how thou
hadst ever the courage to go to a foreign land and there to steal away a
beautiful woman. The deed has been the undoing of us all and brought
eternal shame upon thyself. Menelaus appears quite different to thee
to-day, I suppose, from what he did then? Had he caught thee, thy lute
and curled hair, thy slender shape, and the favor of Aphrodite had
availed thee little. Were the Trojans not a cowardly rabble thou wouldst
long ago have paid the penalty for all thou hast brought upon them.”
Paris answered: “Thou art right, brother. But forgive me. Wouldst thou
see me fight, bid the others cease and let me challenge Menelaus to
single combat before the people. Then let whichever is the victor take
Helen, with all the other treasures, that the Trojans and Achaians may
part in peace.”
These words pleased Hector and he advanced, holding out his lance before
the Greeks and calling upon them to cease fighting. The arrows of the
enemy fell about him like rain until Agamemnon spied him and cried
loudly: “Stop, men! Do not shoot, for he wishes to speak to us.”
Hector called out: “Hear me now, Achaians and Trojans! Paris, my
brother, the cause of all this trouble, would also make an end of it and
challenges Menelaus to single combat. Whichever wins shall take both
Helen and the treasure and the death of the vanquished shall end the
war. Ye shall all return to your homes and we will swear a bond of
friendship.”
Menelaus listened, well pleased, and stepped forth to accept the
challenge, only stipulating that a solemn pledge should be taken with
all the customary sacrifices and observances and that King Priam should
himself be present at the combat. All this was willingly granted.
In the meanwhile Agamemnon and Hector sent for the lambs and goats for
the sacrifice. Priam was seated upon the city wall near the Scæan gate
with the elders who were no longer able to go into battle, and there the
message was brought him by a herald. Helen also received the message,
which she heard with pleasure, hoping in her heart that Menelaus might
be the victor; for she had begun to long for her former husband, her
native city, and old friends. She hastily wrapped herself in a silvery
veil of linen and hurried away to the Scæan gate, accompanied by two
female attendants. The aged men at the tower were entranced with her
beauty and compared her to one of the immortal goddesses. Priam welcomed
her kindly, saying: “Approach, my daughter. Sit here beside me, that
thou mayest see all thy dear relatives and thy former husband. Do not
weep. It is not thy fault. It is the immortal gods who have sent us this
unhappy war. But tell me, who is that stately man who stands out amongst
all the others, so noble and commanding in appearance?”
“How kind thou art, gracious father, and how unhappy am I!” answered
Helen. “Would I had died ere I followed thy son hither. That stately
hero of whom thou speakest is Agamemnon, the powerful king of Mycenæ. He
was my brother-in-law. Alas! would that he were now.”
“So that is Agamemnon!” replied Priam slowly, observing him with
admiration. “But tell me more. I see one who is not so tall, but with
broad chest and mighty shoulders. He has laid his weapons upon the
ground and goes among the soldiers, from one company to another, even as
a ram musters the flock.”
“That is Ulysses, Laërtes’ son,” said Helen; “a good soldier and the
wisest of them all in council.”
“That is true, and now I recognize him myself,” said Antenor. “He came
with Menelaus into the city, as ambassador from the Achaians, to make
terms for thee.”
“But look!” cried Priam. “There go two others, who appear to be powerful
kings.”
“Truly they are valiant heroes,” answered Helen. “The first is Ajax of
Salamis and the other Idomeneus, king of Crete. He often visited us and
Menelaus entertained him gladly, for he is an excellent man.”
While this conversation was going on, there came a herald to the aged
king to announce that the chariot was waiting to take him to the
battlefield. On their arrival in the midst of the two armies, Agamemnon
advanced to meet the king, surrounded by the other princes. Heralds went
among the company, sprinkling the hands of each with water; for none
might perform a sacred rite with unclean hands. Then Agamemnon drew a
great knife from his belt and sheared the wool from the lambs’ heads and
the heralds gave a piece of it to each prince. Then Agamemnon lifted up
his hands and prayed: “Father Jupiter, glorious ruler, and thou, Helios,
all-seeing sungod; ye Streams and Earth and ye Shades who punish those
who swear falsely, be ye witnesses of our vows and of this solemn
treaty. If Paris vanquish King Menelaus, he shall keep Helen and her
treasures and we will return to our country. But if he fall in the
fight, the Trojans shall give up the woman, together with all the
treasure, and pay us besides a fair tribute in this and future years.
And should they ever refuse to fulfil this vow, I shall renew the war
and never stop until I have received full satisfaction.” All took the
oath and the king cut the throats of the lambs and laid them down upon
the ground. Then each took wine and poured the first drops upon the
earth in honor of the gods, saying: “May Jupiter thus spill the blood of
him who shall first break the sacred oath.”
“Worthy men,” said old Priam, with tears in his eyes, “grant me leave to
return home that I may not look upon the combat. Let Jupiter decide. He
knoweth best the right.” With these words he was lifted into his chariot
and Antenor drove him swiftly to the palace.
Hector and Ulysses, the arbiters of the combat, now measured off the
ground and put the lots in a helmet, one for Menelaus and one for Paris,
in order to decide who should first cast his spear. Hector shook the
helmet until one of the lots flew out. It was that of Paris. The
bystanders at once retired to a distance and seated themselves in a
circle. Paris, in shining armor and carrying a heavy javelin, advanced
from one side and Menelaus from the other into the middle of the arena.
They shook their weapons fiercely and Paris was the first to cast his
javelin. But he struck only the edge of Menelaus’ shield; the point was
bent and the spear fell harmless to the ground.
Menelaus cast his spear with such force that it pierced the shield and
would have penetrated his heart had Paris not quickly sprung aside. But
while he was gazing in dismay at the wreck of his shield, Menelaus
sprang upon him with drawn sword and had cloven his head in twain had
not the thick helmet shivered the brittle blade. For the third time he
sprang at Paris and seized him by the helmet to throw him to the ground,
but at the same moment the chin strap broke and Menelaus’ arm flew up
and he found himself holding the empty helmet in his hand. Paris took
the opportunity to rush away and take refuge among the Trojans, and when
Menelaus turned to cast his spear a second time at him, he had already
disappeared. It was the friendly goddess Aphrodite who had saved him.
While the Greeks were loudly acclaiming the victor, Jupiter put it into
the heart of a Trojan to shoot an arrow at Menelaus. Pandarus was the
man’s name and Athena herself had put the arrow into his hands just as
Menelaus passed under the city wall. But the wound was not dangerous and
was quickly dressed by Machaon with a salve which he always carried
about him. The victorious cries of the Achaians now changed to cries of
rage. All condemned the treacherous act and called down the vengeance of
Jupiter upon the Trojan people.
[Illustration: _RESCUE OF PARIS BY APHRODITE_]
Agamemnon assembled his cohorts once more and hastened among the ranks
encouraging, threatening. Brave Idomeneus he found ready armed amongst
his Cretans. Next he mustered the tribes under command of the two
Ajaxes, which were ready to go into battle. The next company that he met
were the Pylians, under the command of young princes whom old Nestor
directed. The old man was even now going about among the men,
restraining the horsemen and placing the weaker in the middle, with the
more courageous and experienced at the front and on the sides, and
giving much valuable advice to the young leaders. Well pleased,
Agamemnon hurried on to the Athenians and Cephallenians, led by
Menestheus and Ulysses. He found the two chieftains conversing
unconcernedly together and called to them: “Is this the interest ye take
in the war? All the rest are armed and ready and would ye be left
behind? Ye are always foremost at the banquet and now ye look on while
ten companies of Achaians enter the battlefield before ye.”
Ulysses answered, darkly frowning: “What words are these, oh ruler? When
hast thou ever found us tardy in battle? When the fight begins we shall
not be far away, and thou shalt see the father of Telemachus at the
front amongst the Trojan horsemen. Those were empty words thou spakest!”
Smiling at his anger Agamemnon answered: “Noble son of Laërtes, thou
needest no advice nor blame from me, for we are of one mind. Let it be
forgotten if I have spoken harshly.”
He hastened to the next company, where he found Diomedes and Sthenelus
standing together in their chariot, the former with sad and disheartened
mien. “What, son of Tydeus!” he said to him, “thou seemest disturbed and
art trembling. Thy noble father knew no fear. What deeds that man
accomplished! His son is less heroic in battle, though more ready of
tongue.”
“Speak not falsely, Atride,” answered Sthenelus, as Diomedes bowed
respectfully under the king’s reproaches. “We boast ourselves braver
than our fathers, for they led many foot-soldiers and horsemen to Thebes
and failed to take the city, while we stormed it with but few followers.
Do not praise our fathers at our expense.”
“Silence, friend,” interrupted Diomedes. “I do not blame Agamemnon for
inciting the Achaians to battle. The fame and gain will be his if the
war is ended gloriously, and his the disgrace and ruin should the
Achaians be put to flight.”
With these words he sprang from the chariot, so that his bronze harness
rattled, and began to arm himself for the fight. Agamemnon passed on.
While he was mustering the right wing, the left advanced to the attack.
They moved slowly and silently forward, enveloped in a cloud of dust. At
last Achaians and Trojans met; shield rang against shield, lance broke
lance. Now loud shouts arose, and mingled with the battle cries were
heard the groans of the wounded and dying being dragged away by their
friends, that they might not be trampled upon or subjected to the
cruelties of the enemy. Above the din of battle rose the commands of the
chieftains and the cries of the soldiers. Swords hissed through the air,
spears whistled, shields rang against one another.
Hector, seeing his companions give way, called to them: “Forward, Trojan
horsemen! Come, do not leave the field to the Argives. They are made
neither of iron nor stone that our spears should rebound from them, and
Achilles, the great hero, no longer fights in their ranks.”
The Trojans took courage at this and renewed the battle. Diores, the
Greek, was stretched senseless upon the ground by a heavy stone, and
just as his conqueror, the Trojan Peirus, had given him the deathblow
with his spear and was about to strip his victim, Thoas the Ætolian
rushed upon him with his sword and he fell across the body of Diores.
But Thoas was obliged to flee in turn, for the Trojans ran up to carry
off Peirus, and he had to seek other booty. It had been a hot day and
horse and rider were panting.