Chapter III

      Meeting of the Armies—Menelaus and Paris— Agamemnon Leads the Greeks into Battle

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      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 Mycenae. 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