Part 16

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."

IV

"Now let the boxers try their skill and hardihood," said Achilles, when he had returned to his seat. "Here is a stout mule of six years old for the winner, and for the loser there is a silver cup."

In answer to the challenge a huge champion named Epeus strode into the ring, and, laying his hand on the mule, cried boastfully: "Come on, whoever wishes to win the cup! The mule is surely mine, for there is no boxer here who can match me. If there be anyone who would dispute the prize with me, let him stand up, when he has made all ready for his funeral--for I will pound his flesh, and batter his bones, until he is fit only for burial."

Epeus, with his massive frame and brawny arms, seemed quite capable of performing his threats, and it was some time before anyone was found willing to face him. At last Euryalus, an Argive, whose father had been a famous boxer, was encouraged by his friend Diomede to try his chances in this painful and dangerous sport; and having stripped to the waist, and bound their hands with tough leathern thongs, the two combatants confronted each other in the centre of the ring. The struggle was very short, for after they had fenced a little with their fists Euryalus received a crushing blow on the side of his jaw, and dropped in a heap where he stood, like a great fish flung by the waves on the beach. Spitting out blood, and rolling his head from side to side, he was led away by his friends, and Epeus carried off the mule in triumph.

Then followed a hard-contested match between Odysseus and Telamonian Ajax, for the championship in wrestling. Stripped, like the boxers, to the waist, they clutched each other in a fierce embrace, and remained thus locked together, their strong arms crossed like the rafters in a roof, and their sides growing black under the iron pressure. They seemed rooted to the ground, and neither could stir the other an inch. Then Ajax, suddenly exerting his enormous strength, lifted Odysseus bodily into the air; but Odysseus struck him with his heel behind the knee, and they fell together, Odysseus above, and Ajax below. Rising again to their feet they wrestled a second bout, and this time Odysseus, though foiled in his attempt to lift the huge bulk of his antagonist, succeeded in tripping him by a crook of the knee, and they came down again, and lay side by side. Once more they would have renewed the struggle, but Achilles put an end to the contest, and awarded them an equal prize.

A beautiful silver bowl, the work of Sidonian artists, which Achilles had once received as the ransom of the unhappy Lycaon, was now offered as the first prize for the foot race. The second prize was a fat ox, and the third one half of a talent of gold. There were three competitors: the lesser Ajax, who was famed for his speed of foot, Odysseus, and Antilochus. The distance was about a furlong, and Ajax took the lead from the start, though Odysseus pressed him so hard that he seemed glued to him; and so they ran, without changing their positions, over half the course, the Greeks shouting to encourage Odysseus, who was a popular favourite. Still Ajax held the lead, and seemed about to win, when he slipped in a miry place, where the ground was wet with the blood of the oxen slaughtered by Achilles at the funeral of Patroclus, and pitched head foremost in the horrid mire, which filled his mouth and nostrils. But he was on his feet again in a moment, and though he could not overtake Odysseus he succeeded in obtaining the second prize. "It is an old story," he said, holding the ox by the horn, and spitting out the slime which filled his mouth; "Odysseus was helped by Athene, who watches over him as a mother over her child."

The Greeks laughed at his discomfiture, and found fresh matter for mirth in the humorous excuses of Antilochus, who had been left far behind in the race. "You know," he said, "that the gods are always on the side of the elder men; Ajax is a little older than I, and Odysseus belongs to another generation. But he is in a green old age, and none can vie with him in speed, except only Achilles."

"Thy praise shall not be spoken for nothing," said Achilles, smiling, and he gave him one half of a talent of gold as a reward for his good words.

Contests in archery and throwing the weight succeeded, and an encounter with sword and spear took place between Ajax and Diomede. Then Achilles offered two prizes for throwing the javelin, and Agamemnon, in recognition of his high rank and known skill in this exercise, was allowed to take the first prize without a trial. With this incident the games came to an end.

Priam ransoms the Body of Hector

I

The busy day was over, and night sank down on the Grecian camp, bringing to all, save one tormented spirit, the blessed gift of sleep. With silence and solitude the pangs of sorrow awakened with new keenness in the heart of Achilles, and he lay tossing and turning on his uneasy pillow, seeking rest, and finding none. A thousand memories of his friendship with Patroclus--gallant adventures, hairbreadth escapes, moving accidents by flood and field--coursed through his mind, bringing home to him the immensity of his loss. After some hours of sleepless misery he sprang to his feet, and throwing on his clothes went down to the sea, and roamed distracted along the sand. With the first glimmer of daylight he yoked his horses to the car, and drove round and round the tomb of Patroclus, dragging after him the body of Hector. Having made the circuit of the tomb three times, he unyoked his horses, and retired once more to his tent, leaving his lifeless victim face downwards in the dust.

Twelve days passed; and every day the same outrage was repeated. All the gods, except Poseidon, Hera, and Athene, whose hatred of all things Trojan was inveterate, were indignant at his senseless barbarity, and they began to urge Hermes to steal Hector's body, and restore it to his friends. But nothing was done until, on the twelfth day, Apollo rose up and reproached the gods, who were met in full assembly, for their cruel indifference. "Is there no pity," he said, "is there no justice, left in heaven, that ye suffer this inhuman son of Peleus to wreak his brutal fury on the body of a man of stainless life, constant all his days in sacrifice and prayer? All your favour is lavished on Achilles, who has the heart of a ravening lion, nourished in havoc and carnage. Death lies about the paths of mortals, taking their nearest and their dearest; yet sorrow must sleep at last, for patience is the best gift which the gods have given to men. But this man is more cruel in his love than in his hate, and because he has lost a friend his rancour burns on like an unquenchable fire."

"Thou forgettest," answered Hera, "that Achilles is the son of a goddess, and shares the privileges of divine descent. His father also was a favourite of heaven, and thou thyself, Phœbus, didst lend the music of thy harp to grace his nuptials; but now, it seemeth, thou takest delight in baser company."

"Fair consort," said Zeus, "be not thus implacable. Granted that Achilles stands higher in honour, yet Hector hath also his claim on our regard, for none was ever more pious than he. Therefore, that we may end this miserable coil at once, let Iris go and summon hither his mother Thetis, that we may contrive some way of restoring Hector to his people."

Iris hastened to obey the command, and, stooping from Olympus to the surface of the sea, dropped like a leaden plummet into the purple depths, until she reached the grotto where Thetis dwelt. She found her sitting among the Nereids, mourning the lot of her matchless son, whose death was near at hand. "What wants the monarch of heaven from me?" she asked, when she heard the summons from Zeus. "I am ill prepared to attend the happy session of the gods, for grief has clouded my mind and marred my face." Nevertheless she rose to go, and putting on a veil of funereal blackness followed Iris, who brought her speedily to the assembly of the gods.

"We thank thee, Thetis," said Zeus, beckoning her to a seat next to his throne, "that thou hast answered so promptly to our call. We know thy sorrows, and have respect for thee and thy son; and for this cause have we sent for thee. For nine days there has been strife among us, concerning the body of Hector, which Achilles still keeps in his possession. Some there were who would have had Hermes steal it away, but this I would not suffer, out of regard to thy son's honour. But go thou to the camp, and tell him that we are sore displeased with him, because in his madness he keeps the corpse of his enemy and will not ransom it. And I will send Iris with a charge to Priam, that he may go with acceptable gifts to the tent of Achilles, and redeem the body for burial."

II

Still nursing his wound, still torn by the demons of rage and grief, Achilles sat moodily in his tent, while his comrades were busy about him, preparing the morning meal. Suddenly he felt a gentle touch on his shoulder, and looking up he saw his mother's face bent over him, with looks of sympathy and love. "My son," she said, in a low sweet voice, "how long wilt thou devour thy heart in bootless anguish, refusing meat and drink, and spurning the tender offices of human affection? O darken not the little remnant that remains to thee of life, but take what good thou canst, and at least live as a man. I have come with a message to thee from Zeus, who bids thee to give up Hector's body, and receive the ransom which his friends will offer thee."

"Be it so," answered Achilles. "Let them bring the price, and I will give back the body." Overjoyed by his ready consent, Thetis bade him farewell, and returned to her ocean home.

Meanwhile the ever-active Iris was gone on another errand, carrying the commands of Zeus to Priam. Swiftly she passed through the streets of Troy, and entered the house of woe, where the voice of sorrow had never ceased since the day when Hector had fallen by the hands of Achilles. Priam himself was lying prostrate on the ground in the courtyard, with his white locks defied with dust and ashes. Round him were gathered his sons, trying in vain to rouse him from his stupor; and at the windows were seen from time to time the white faces of women, when any of his daughters paused in their household tasks to glance at the sorrow-stricken group outside.

Lying thus, mute and motionless, Priam was startled to hear a still, small voice, which seemed to be speaking at a great distance, addressing him in these words: "Take comfort, son of Dardanus, and be not dismayed! I who speak have not come to foretell thee harm, but only good. Thy cries and thy groanings have gone up to the ear of Zeus, and he hath sent me to comfort and advise thee. Hearken now, and do as I shall tell thee: let them prepare thee a wain, loaded with precious gifts, and go thou in thy car to the tent of Achilles, and let only a herald go with thee, a man stricken in years like thyself, to guide the mules. Fear nothing, for heaven is near thee, and the gods have put it into the heart of Achilles to hear thy prayer."

To the amazement of those who stood near, and who knew nothing of the cause, new life and energy were seen to enter the palsied limbs of Priam, and starting to his feet he ordered his sons to prepare the mule car, and make fast to it the great wicker basket which was used for the carriage of goods. Then, without staying for question or reply, he hastened into the house, and calling to Hecuba made known to her his purpose. When she heard what he intended, Hecuba lifted up her hands, and answered in tones of astonishment and terror. "Is it Priam who speaks--the monarch revered for his wisdom even in distant lands--or is it some madman who has taken upon him Priam's likeness? What, wilt thou go into the presence of that butcher, whose savage hands have made thee all but childless? Faithless and ruthless as he is, thinkest thou that he will reverence thy grey hairs? No, he will slaughter thee without pity, and give us new cause for tears. Hector hath received the portion appointed to him at his birth, and dogs shall eat his flesh where he lies in the tent of that man of blood. May the curse of heaven light on his slayer! Would that I could tear his heart with my teeth, and devour it! Then would my noble son be avenged, who died bravely before the face of all his people, with no thought of flight or escape."

But Priam was not to be shaken in his resolve. "Seek not to hinder me," he answered, "and vex me not with thy evil forebodings. I go not at the bidding of any earthly prophet, but with direct assurance of the aid and countenance of heaven. If I have been deceived, I am prepared to die, so that the stroke but find me holding my son in my arms, and clinging to him in a last embrace."

With that he went to his treasure-chamber, and opening the chests of cedarwood took from them rich robes, choice tapestries, and costly raiment. To these he added ten talents of gold and a bowl of silver, which he had received as a gift of honour when he went on an embassy to Thrace. And having set the gifts in order he went forth again into the courtyard, to hasten the preparations for his journey. Finding there a crowd of Trojans, whom some rumour had drawn to the palace, he drove them all out, beating them with his staff, and crying: "What make ye here, idle caitiffs? Have ye not sorrow enough at home that ye come hither to chatter and pry into my grief? Ye will soon learn what ye have lost in my Hector, when ye fly like sheep without a shepherd before the wolves of Greece." The Trojans fled before the old man's anger, and he looked about him, seeking his sons. "Where are ye," he cried, "children of my shame? Would that ye had all perished, and Hector alone were left! Alas! the best are ever taken first, and in those that remain there is neither comfort nor strength, but only dishonour and reproach. Liars, dancers, devourers of the people--these are my children now."

Roused by the loud rebukes of their father, the young princes made haste to bring forth the mule car and harness the mules. Then they loaded the car with the gifts to Achilles, and yoked to the chariot the horses which Priam himself was to drive.

When all was ready, Hecuba came and stood by the chariot, bearing a golden cup filled with wine. "Take this," she said to Priam, "and pour a drink-offering to Zeus, if so be that he will vouchsafe thee a sign, and show thee whether it be by his will or not that thou goest on this journey."

"Thou sayest well," answered Priam. "It is a good thing to hold up our hands to heaven in prayer." Thereupon he washed his hands in water, which was brought by a handmaid, took the cup from his wife, and standing by the altar in the middle of the courtyard lifted up his voice and prayed: "Lord of Ida, most glorious, most great, grant that the heart of Achilles may incline in pity towards me, and send thy messenger, the swift eagle whom thou lovest best of all fowls, that having seen him we may go with good heart and courage to the Grecian camp."

Even as he spoke, a mighty eagle was seen soaring over the city on the right hand, with his vast wings outspread, like the folding doors of a rich man's house. Rejoicing in the omen, Priam mounted his chariot, and drove through the echoing porch, preceded by the herald Idæus, who drove the mule car. Along the streets they passed, making what speed they could, through the multitudes who had flocked out to see them depart, and who mourned them as already dead.

Night had fallen, and all the sky was thick set with stars, as they left the city gates, and turned their faces towards the sea. When they reached the ford of the river they paused to let the animals drink: and while they halted Idæus suddenly cried out in tones of terror: "My lord, we are undone! I see a man approaching, and I fear he means us no good." Priam peered out into the darkness, following with his eyes the pointing finger of Idæus, and saw a tall figure moving with rapid steps towards them.

"What doest thou here?" said the stranger, who was a graceful and comely youth, and whose voice sounded like the chiming of a silver bell. "Why art thou here unguarded, at the very gates of the foe? But be of good cheer--I will not harm thee, nor suffer others to do so. I see in thee a likeness to my dear father."

"Fair youth," answered Priam, whose alarm had vanished before the gentle mien and kind words of the young Greek, "surely some god has sent thee in my way, in pity for my helpless state. Tell me, who art thou, and who is the father who is blest with such a son?"

"I am a follower of Achilles," was the startling reply, "and came hither in the same ship. My father is Polyctor, a wealthy man, and of like age with thee. I am the youngest of seven sons, and the lot fell upon me to follow the host to Troy. And this night I came out to spy upon the movements of the Trojans."

"If thou art a comrade of Achilles," said Priam, "thou canst tell me concerning my son Hector. Lies his body still by the ships, or has Achilles given it already to his dogs to devour?"

"Neither dog," answered the other, "nor unclean fowl hath approached him, nor hath the worm had power over his flesh. Unmarred by violence, untouched by decay, he lieth, without soil or stain, and all his wounds are closed. This miracle the gods have wrought, in the great love which they bear him."

"Glad news thou tellest me," said Priam, "and now I know that piety hath its reward, even in death." Then he took out a silver cup from the mule car, and offering it to the stranger said: "Take this for thyself, and conduct me safe to the ships of Achilles, that I may see the face of my son."

"Tempt me not, old man," replied the Greek. "This cup belongs to Achilles, and if I should steal it from him what thinkest thou that he would do unto me? But come, give me the reins, and I will guide thee to thy goal--yea, though it were in distant Argos, thou shouldst reach it safe and sound, and none should molest thee."

So saying, he sprang to the side of Priam, and took the reins. Under his guidance the horses seemed to be endued with wings, and in a very short time they reached the main entrance of the camp. The gates flew open, as if by magic, and all the sentries were sleeping at their posts. On to the extreme verge of the camp they went, still unchallenged, and drew up at length before a high stockade, within which were the quarters of Achilles. Once more the gates opened at a touch, and they entered. Here the mysterious stranger dismounted from the car, and turning on Priam a countenance which shone with a celestial radiance he said: "I have brought thee to the place where thou wouldst go, and now I will leave thee, for the task is finished which Zeus my father gave me to do. For know that I am Hermes, the herald of the gods, and the strong helper of those that are in need."

III

The dwelling of Achilles, which, for want of a better word, we have called a tent, was in reality a roomy building, constructed of solid pine trunks, and thatched with moss and rushes. On this memorable evening Achilles was sitting in the main apartment of the dwelling, and two of his squires were removing the vessels used at the evening meal. The light of the fire gleamed fitfully on his face, and he seemed in a gentler and more placid mood than had been usual with him for many days. He had partaken freely of food and wine, and conversed cheerfully with his attendants. He was now silent, and sat musing quietly by himself, when suddenly, to his amazement, an old man of tall stature and regal port entered the room, and throwing himself on the ground before him clasped his knees and kissed his hands--those terrible murderous hands!--bathing them with his tears. Like a man who has slain a fellow-countryman, and enters the house of some wealthy noble, where a great company is gathered, to implore shelter and protection--for the avenger of blood is at his heels--so seemed that aged man to Achilles and those that were with him, so trembling, helpless, and forlorn. And as they gazed in deep wonder, murmuring to each other the name of Priam, he began, in a voice broken with weeping, to urge his petition: "Pity me, Achilles, for thy father's sake, an old man like me, standing on the brink of the grave. Maybe he is in sole straits, oppressed by those that dwell about him, for want of thy succouring arm. Yet still he has hope, as long as thou livest, and looks forward to the joyful day of thy return. But what hope have I, what solace, what refuge from the blows which fate aims without ceasing at mine afflicted head? Fifty sons I had, when the sons of Greece first came to these shores, and of these the greater part have paid their last tribute to the stern god of war. And he, the bravest and the best, the bulwark of my city, fell by thy hand not many days since. Him have I come to ransom at a great price. In the name of thy father, in the name of the gods whom we both adore, have mercy on me, Achilles--on me, who have found it in my heart to do what mortal never did before, to lift to my lips the hand that slew my son!"

Then at last that iron-hearted man was melted into compassion when he saw the renowned King of Asia prostrate at his feet, humbled to the dust for the sake of one poor boon--permission to give his son's body to the grave. And the sight of all that misery awakened anew the thought of his own sad lot, his recent loss, his brief and troubled life, soon to be ended by a coward's hand, the desolation of his home, and his father pining in solitary old age. Surely he also had cause enough for tears!