Part 3

Having thus silenced that loose tongue, Odysseus mounted a platform, whence he could be seen and heard of all the host, and lifting up his mighty voice he began to rebuke the people for their weakness and want of faith. "Must I speak to you," he said, "as to homesick women and children, or as to veteran warriors bound by an oath to follow their great captain for weal or for woe? Not that I blame you overmuch, for indeed your service has been both long and hard. For nine long years we have toiled in vain, and the cordage of our ships is rotten, and their timbers are warped. Nevertheless, endure yet a little while, until we have learnt whether the son of Cronos is a true prophet or no. Ye cannot have forgotten the day when our ships were assembled at Aulis, or the portents vouchsafed us there at a solemn sacrifice to the gods. The altar was raised in the shadow of a goodly plane-tree, near a running water; and in the tree was a nest of sparrows, a mother with eight young, cheeping and cowering beneath the leaves. Just as we were kindling the altar fire, a great serpent, with blood-red back, darted up from the altar into the tree and pounced upon the sparrows' nest. The mother-bird fluttered anxiously around, uttering piteous cries to see the monster devouring her young; and the serpent, when he had swallowed up the nestlings, caught their mother by the wing as she hovered near, and swallowed her also. Then we beheld a wonder: for the serpent, when he came down from the tree, was turned into a stone. And while we stood amazed Calchas declared unto us the meaning of that omen: "Why stand ye thus amazed, ye warriors of Greece? That which ye have seen is a sign from Zeus, and this is the interpretation thereof: the nine birds are the nine years, during which we shall lay siege to Troy, and the serpent is the tenth year, in which Troy shall fall! Therefore abide steadfast, my comrades, for the nine years are passed, and we are nearing the end of our labours."

Odysseus ended, and a great roar of acclamation went up from a hundred thousand throats, and rolled like thunder along the hollow shore. The next speaker was Nestor, who addressed Agamemnon, and bade him command an immediate muster of the whole army, and lead a general attack upon the Trojans. "Let the people," said he, "be ordered according to their several tribes and clans, that thou mayest distinguish the faint-hearted from the loyal and valiant. Thus shall thou learn, if disaster befalleth thee, to whom it is due--whether to adverse heaven, or to the cowardice and weakness of thine allies."

"Thou speakest ever to the purpose," answered Agamemnon; "and would that I had ten such counsellers as thee! Then would Priam's royal city soon bow her head, sunk in the dust beneath our victorious hands. But the son of Cronos hath sown division among us, and put enmity between me and my bravest champion. But to our task: let the people now get their morning meal, and then prepare for battle. Let every man whet his spear, and look to the fastenings of his shield; let every steed be fed, and every chariot set in order, that we may fight all day till the going down of the sun. There shall be no rest or respite till darkness puts an end to the fray. Many a shield strap shall drip with sweat, and many a hand ache with holding the spear, and the steeds shall droop with weariness, ere the day be done. And if I find any man skulking among the ships, I will give his flesh to feed the dogs and vultures."

Then the people arose and scattered among their tents, and soon the smoke of a thousand fires went eddying up into the still morning air. And every warrior lifted up his heart in prayer to heaven, that he might return safe and sound from the great perils which lay before him.

Agamemnon slaughtered an ox five years old, and summoned the noblest of the chiefs, among whom were Nestor, Idomeneus, the two princes named Ajax, Diomede, and Odysseus, to take their meal with him. In those days every meal was a sacrifice, and this was the manner in which it was performed: the company stood round the ox, holding in their hands a portion of barleymeal. Then the giver of the feast addressed a prayer to Zeus, the meal was sprinkled between the horns of the victim, and after that the beast was slaughtered and flayed. Portions of the meat were then cut off from the carcass, wrapped in a double layer of fat, and burnt as an offering to the gods. When all religious rites had been duly paid, the choicer parts of the meat were broiled in thin slices over the fire, and eaten with wheat or barley bread. The flesh of beeves and swine, or less commonly of sheep and goats, with bread and wine, formed almost the sole diet of the Homeric heroes.

When they had finished a copious repast, Nestor, who, despite his eighty years, was as keen and alert as the youngest soldier, sprang from his seat, and cried: "To arms, comrades, to arms! Agamemnon, bid the heralds summon the host to the field."

The King gave the order required, and forthwith the heralds, who were chosen for the power and reach of their voices, went about in the camp, and called the people to arms. Then every captain called his company together, and led them to the place appointed for the general array. And by degrees a strange fire spread from rank to rank, kindling in every breast a fierce longing for battle. All softer emotions, all homesick longings, were forgotten; for a mysterious influence was at work, due to the unseen presence of Athene, who was there with her wondrous, immortal shield, with its fringe of golden tassels. None beheld her, but all felt her power, and the boldest grew bolder, and the weakest were inspired with a valour not their own.

Like a fire blazing among the thickets high up on a mountainside, so blazed the sunlight on shield and helmet, as those countless thousands poured forth into the plain of Scamander, and the earth shook beneath the tramp of steeds and men. On and still on streamed the tide of warriors, unnumbered as the leaves in spring, or as flies that buzz round the milkpails on a sunny day, when the goats are milked by a hundred hands.

And as the shepherd numbers his sheep, for he knoweth them every one, so moved the captains with mastery, each among his own people, and marshalled them in their ranks. Conspicuous among all was seen the majestic form of Agamemnon, to whom it seemed that every god had on that day bestowed some peculiar grace, to make him the observed of all observers, and give the world assurance of a king.

But what tongue can count the myriads brought together by the word of power on Scamander's plain, or what memory can hold the names of the nations assembled there? All the chivalry of Greece had obeyed the summons of the monarch, sent forth nine years before, and they had come flocking in their thousands from the broad plains of Thessaly; from the mountain dells of Locris and of Phocis; from the fat fields of Bœotia; from Attica, with her thin soil and bright, pellucid air; from Salamis, the mother of heroes; from storied Argos and renowned Sparta; from the western islands, and from Creta, the cradle of gods. It would be a weary task to tell over all the heroic titles in that muster-roll of fame, but a few must be mentioned, as being the prime in valour and in worth.

From Locris came the lesser Ajax, son of Oileus. He was small of stature, but swift of foot, and the most skilful spearsman among all the Greeks. His greater namesake, Ajax, son of Telamon, and cousin to Achilles, came from Salamis; he was a giant in stature and in strength, and, next to Achilles, the greatest warrior in all the host.

The ancient city of Tiryns in Argos, with its massy walls, built by a mighty race in the very dawn of time, sent forth a goodly company in eighty ships; and these were commanded by Diomede, son of Tydeus, a gallant and youthful prince, whose deeds fill many a page in the tale of Troy divine. And from the neighbouring city of Mycenæ, the royal seat of the line of Pelops, came Agamemnon himself, at whose imperial nod whole nations flew to arms. His brother, Menelaus, the husband of Helen, on whose account the war had arisen, brought sixty ships, manned by the warriors of Sparta, of which city he was king. He was a mild and gentle prince, and a zealous leader, though in valour and prowess not of the first rank.

Ninety ships formed the contingent led by Nestor, the aged King of Pylos, the most venerable figure, and the wisest head, among all those who fought in the cause of Helen.

Of those who came from the islands the most famous were Odysseus, King of Ithaca, the hero of another famous story, mighty in word and in deed, and, after Nestor, the sagest counsellor in the Grecian camp; and Idomeneus of Crete, a grey-haired veteran who had proved his valour on many a hard-fought field.

Among others singled out for special mention are Nireus, renowned for his wonderful beauty, but otherwise a weakling; Philoctetes, now living in lonely exile on the island of Lemnos, where he had been left by the Greeks on account of a dreadful wound, which rendered his presence in the camp unbearable, and Protesilaus, who had been the first to leap on to the Trojan shore, and had been struck down by a Trojan in the very act.

These two were missing in the grand review of the forces which was now held in anticipation of a victorious march upon Troy, and their places were supplied by others. But there was one whose place none could fill, and whose absence was soon to make itself felt in dire and deadly fashion. Achilles sat idle in his tent, brooding over the insult which he had received two weeks before. His ponderous spear, which none but he could wield, was resting from slaughter, and his squires were polishing the armour which he was not to wear that day. He started when he heard the great shout of the Greeks, as the word was given to march, and his heart burned with longing for battle; but remembering his wrongs, he sank back in his seat, frowning darkly, and muttered the single word "Revenge!"

Greeks and Trojans face to face: The Duel

I

Priam was sitting in council with all his elders before the doors of his palace, when a messenger rushed breathless up with the tidings that the Greeks were marching in full force against the city. Instantly the meeting broke up, and the Trojan leaders, with Hector at their head, set out with the whole body of native warriors and their allies to bar the way of the invader.

Halting before a solitary mound, the tomb of the Amazon Myrine, within sight of the walls of Troy, they drew up their forces in order of battle. The native Trojans, who fought under Hector, son of Priam, formed the flower of the army; but in numbers they were far exceeded by the troops which had assembled, at the call of Priam, from the adjacent provinces and coastlands of western Asia--from Lydia, Mysia, Paphlagonia, and far-off Lycia--from Sestos and Abydos and Thrace. After Hector, the most famous leaders were Æneas, son of Anchises and Aphrodite; Pandarus, unrivalled for his skill in archery; Paris, whose crime had brought all these woes on his country, and above all the two captains of the Lycians--Sarpedon, the son of Zeus, and Glaucus, the most knightly figure among all the heroes of Greece and Troy.

When the various members of that motley host had taken their appointed stations, the defenders of Troy advanced with clamour and with tumult, like flocks of cranes winging their way to the shores of the ocean stream to make war on the Pygmies. Presently the van of the Greeks came in sight, moving on in silence, like men with one mind and one heart.

Foremost among the Trojan champions was seen the gay and beautiful Paris. He was clad in a panther's skin, over which hung his bow and arrows, and besides these weapons, in the use of which he excelled, he was armed with two long spears and a sword. Menelaus marked him as he came on with long strides, and rejoiced in spirit, like a hungry lion when he catches sight of his prey; and leaping down from his car he advanced with uplifted spear to take vengeance on his treacherous foe. But when Paris saw him coming his guilty heart quailed within him, and he shrank back among the ranks of his comrades, like one who has trodden on a snake while walking in a mountain glen.

"Now curse on thy fair, false face!" cried Hector to his cowardly brother, "thou carpet-knight, thou foul deceiver! Better for thee to have died childless and unwed than thus to bring shame on thy father and all thy kinsfolk and people. Thou art a fit foe for women, whom thou beguilest with witchcraft of thy wit, and wicked gifts; but all thy gifts--thy curling locks, thy smooth, white brow, thy sweet voice, and cunning minstrelsy--avail thee naught when thou lookest upon the face of a man. Verily the Trojans are as dastardly as thyself, or long ere this thou wouldst have put on a doublet of stone[1] for all the ills that thou hast wrought."

[1] That is, "Wouldst have been stoned to death."

"I have deserved thy rebuke," answered Paris. "Keen as the blade of an axe, which bites deep into the heart of an oak, when wielded by a sinewy arm, so is the keenness of thy spirit, and thou knowest not fear. Nevertheless, mock me not for the lovely gifts of Aphrodite, for the gifts of heaven are not to be despised. And if thou desirest me to take up this quarrel with Menelaus thou hast thy wish. I will fight against him hand to hand, and he who is victor shall be lord of Helen and all her possessions. So shall the long strife have an end, and peace shall dwell again within our borders."

When Hector heard his brother's bold words he was glad, and gave the word to make the Trojans sit down in their ranks. At first the Greeks did not understand what was happening, and pressed onward to the attack with a shower of stones and arrows; but Agamemnon soon perceived that Hector had something to propose, and gave the signal for a general halt.

Then Hector, standing midway between the two armies, made known the offer of Paris, and asked for an armistice, that the two champions might try the issue between them. All eyes were now turned on Menelaus, who responded boldly to the challenge. "I am well content," said he, "that this quarrel should be decided by the hands of us twain; for it grieves my heart that so many should suffer for the sake of my private wrong. Let two lambs be brought--a white ram as an offering to the sun, and a black ram as an offering to the earth; and go some of you to fetch Priam, that he may preside at the treaty. His sons we may not trust, for they are hot-blooded and faithless; but an old man's head is cool, and his eye looks before and after."

Right pleased were both Greeks and Trojans when the order was sent round to dismount from their cars and pile their arms; for they thought that the end of their bitter feud was near. Two heralds were despatched to bring down Priam from the city, and Agamemnon sent another for a victim to be sacrificed on behalf of the Greeks.

II

Helen was sitting in her chamber, weaving a fair tapestry, on which were wrought the famous deeds done in her cause by Greek and Trojan heroes, when her task was interrupted by the sudden entrance of her kinswoman, Laodice, a daughter of Priam. "Make haste, dear sister," said the lady, "come with me, and see the wonderful thing which has been brought to pass. Greeks and Trojans are sitting down in amity together, and Paris and Menelaus are to fight with long spears for the mastery; and he that prevaileth shall call thee his wife."

When she heard that, a great longing came into the heart of Helen for her Spartan home and her former lord. With one tearful glance at the speaker she rose from her seat, veiled her face, and made her way to the high tower above the gate where Priam was sitting with the elders of Troy. The shrill, piping voices[2] of the old men struck upon her ears as she stepped out upon the turret; and when they saw her they put their heads together, and whispered their admiration of her wondrous loveliness. "How fair, how very fair she is!" murmured one white-bearded veteran. "Is she not worthy to be the arbitress of life and death to a whole generation of heroes! Nevertheless let her depart, and breed no further mischief to us and our children."

[2] Compared by Homer to grasshoppers.

Then Priam called to her, and beckoned her with a courteous gesture to take her place by his side. "Come hither, dear daughter," he said, "where thou canst see thy former husband, and thy kinsfolk and friends. I blame thee not at all because of this war which the gods have brought upon me in mine old age. Now tell me," he continued, pointing with his finger towards the Greek army, which lay in full view upon the plain, "who is that stately man to whom all the other chieftains seem to pay homage? Ne'er saw I one of so kingly a mien."

"I dread thy presence, father," answered Helen, glancing in the direction indicated, and then casting down her eyes. "I tremble before thee, kind as thou art, for I feel all the wrong which I have done unto thee and thine. And as touching him of whom thou askest, that is Agamemnon, son of Atreus, lord of a wide empire, a righteous king, and a valiant warrior. Once I called him brother," she added, with a sigh.

"'Tis then as I thought," rejoined Priam, "for there is sovereignty in his look. And who is he who stands next to Agamemnon, in stature less than he, but broader of shoulder and deeper of chest? Methinks he is like a stately ram, who stalks majestic before the flock as they go to pasture."

"That is Odysseus, son of Laertes," answered Helen, "bred in the rugged isle of Ithaca. All Greece cannot show his equal in wisdom and eloquence."

"Lady," said Antenor, an elder of high rank. "herein thou hast spoken the very truth. I entertained him of whom thou speakest as my guest when he came hither on an embassy with Menelaus, and I heard them both speaking before the assembly of the Trojans. When they stood up together Menelaus was by far the taller; but when they were seated there was greater dignity in Odysseus. Then as to eloquence, Odysseus bore away the palm from all--though Menelaus spoke both fluently and to the purpose. At first, when Odysseus rose to speak, we wondered to see how ungracefully he stood, leaning heavily on his sceptre, with eyes fixed upon the ground. He seemed a very churl, unskilled in all courtesy and the arts of civil life. But when he lifted up his mighty voice, and his words floated about us like the snowflakes of winter, we knew that we were listening to a divinely gifted man."

At Priam's request Helen named the other chieftains of the Greeks, Ajax and Idomeneus, and the rest; and when the recital was ended she remained gazing wistfully at the dense masses of fighting men who sat waiting on the plain. "I cannot see them," she murmured sadly: "they are not there." "Of whom speakest thou?" asked Priam. "Of Castor and Polydeuces," she answered, "the bold rider, and the stout boxer, my own brothers, born of the same mother with me. Perchance they sailed not in the fleet to Troy, or perchance they have remained behind in the camp, in sorrow for their sister's shame."

Ah! Helen, thy brothers are lying where shame and sorrow can reach them no more, sleeping in their quiet graves, in Lacedæmon, their native land.

III

While Priam was still conversing with Helen, a herald entered with the startling news that his presence was required in the field, to settle the conditions of the single combat between Paris and Menelaus. Some natural pangs he felt, when he heard of the danger which threatened his son. Nevertheless he set out at once, taking with him the victims required for the sacrifice. When he came to the open space between the two armies he found all things ready for the solemn rite. The chiefs stood waiting in a circle, and in their midst was Agamemnon, who acted as priest. The heralds mingled two portions of pure[3] wine in a bowl, and poured water over the hands of the chieftains. Then Agamemnon drew a sharp knife, which hung at his girdle by his ponderous sword, and cutting off a few hairs from the foreheads of the victims gave them to the heralds to distribute among the princes. When this was done, amidst a general hush he uttered this solemn prayer: "Father Zeus, Lord of Ida, most glorious, most mighty, ye rivers, and thou earth, and ye dread powers beneath, who take vengeance after death on all those who swear a false oath, be ye all the witnesses and guardians of our treaty. If Paris slays Menelaus he shall keep Helen for his wife, with all her goods; but should Paris fall Helen shall go back to Menelaus, her lawful lord. Let the war be decided by the issue of this combat, and Heaven defend the right!" Therewith he cut the throats of the victims, and laid their quivering bodies on the ground. Then the drink-offering was poured, with this awful imprecation on those who should break the treaty: "If any man violate our sworn oath, may his brains be poured out, even as this wine, and may his wife and children be sold into bondage."

[3] In sacrifices pure wine was used; wine for drinking was always mixed with water.

Priam now took his departure from the field, for he could not bear to see his son in deadly combat with Menelaus. When he was gone, Hector and Odysseus measured out the ground for the duel, and shook the lots in a helmet, to see who should be the first to cast his spear; and the lot fell on Paris. Meanwhile Paris was putting on his armour; for he had come lightly equipped as an archer into the field.

The two rivals took their stand on either side, clad in their brazen harness, and armed with sword and spear. And first Paris cast his spear, which struck upon the shield of Menelaus, and did him no harm. Then Menelaus lifted up his spear, and murmured a prayer to Zeus: "Grant me, O King, to take vengeance on him who brought dishonour on my home, where he dwelt as my honoured guest." As he spoke, he flung his good ashen spear, which clove its way through the shield of Paris, and tore his tunic close to his side; but Paris swerved aside and escaped a wound. Before he could recover himself Menelaus was upon him, sword in hand, and struck him with all his force upon the helmet; but once more fortune favoured the Trojan, for the blade was shivered on the ridge of the helmet, and Menelaus grasped a useless hilt. "Curse on thee, treacherous steel!" cried he, and, seizing Paris by the helmet, began to drag him towards the ranks of the Greeks. This time he would have succeeded, and taken his enemy captive, had not the strap which held the helmet given way under the strain, so that the brazen headpiece came away empty in his hand.

Menelaus flung the helmet towards his friends, and picking up his spear turned again upon his cowardly foe, with purpose to slay him. But Paris was nowhere to be seen: an invisible hand had caught him up, and carried him away from the righteous hand of the avenger. For Aphrodite, the soft goddess of love, had been hovering near to protect her favourite. She it was who had caused the helmet strap to break, and now she saved him a second time, and bore him swiftly to his house in Troy. There he was presently visited by the lovely Helen, who, though she scorned him in her heart, was drawn thither by a fatal spell which she could not resist; and in the sunshine of her smiles he soon forgot dishonour and defeat.