The Tale of Troy

by Roger Green

Then a seventh son was born, and they called him Achilles.

  ‘See now,’ said Thetis, ‘I will make our child invulnerable, so that he may be the greatest of heroes!’

  And she carried him away by night to the River Styx, the Black River of the Underworld, and dipped him in the swift-flowing stream. But, fearful lest he should be drowned or washed away, she held him by the heel; and the heel and instep alone remained untouched by the magic water.

  When she carried him home, Peleus breathed a sigh of relief that the child was still alive and well. But he determined to watch carefully, and that night he remained awake, though pretending to be asleep.

  Presently he saw his wife slip quietly out of bed, take the baby from the cradle, and, having annointed him with Ambrosia, advance towards the fire. He watched anxiously, and saw Thetis place the child in the heart of the flames.

  At that he leapt out of bed with a cry, snatched Achilles from the fire and turned in fury upon Thetis.

  But she exclaimed: ‘Oh fool, fool! Had you left him, he would have become immortal, and never known old age! For all I had to do was to burn the mortal part of him away, after anointing him with the food of the gods. True, our other sons perished in the flames – but this time I would have been successful, for he had been dipped in Styx and so was invulnerable.’

  Then she cried aloud: ‘Farewell now, Peleus the foolish. Never more shall you call me wife, for I go back to the sea, never to return to you again.’

  Then she fled away like a breath of wind, passed from the palace as swiftly as a dream and leapt into the sea.

  Peleus sorrowed deeply at the loss of his lovely wife, and he never married again, though he lived to sad old age.

  Meanwhile he took the baby Achilles to Mount Pelion and entrusted him to the wise Centaur, Chiron. There the boy dwelt, feeding on the marrow of lions, on wild honey and on the flesh of fawns; and Chiron taught him the arts of riding and hunting, and how to play the lyre.

  Thetis, although she had deserted Peleus, still watched over Achilles; and when he was nine, she saw a danger hanging over him and tried to prevent it by hiding him. She dressed him as a girl and sent him to the island of Scyros where

  Lycomedes was king. There Achilles was hidden among the other maidens who attended on the little princess Deidamia, and indeed he himself almost believed after a time that he was really a girl called Pyrrha.

  Thetis did this when the great war between Greece and Troy was about to begin: for she knew that if Achilles went to Troy he would never return.

  The beginning of that war went back to the day of her marriage to Peleus. For the golden apple of Discord kept the three Immortals, Hera, Athena and Aphrodite, wrangling and quarrelling until Zeus bade Hermes take them to Mount Ida near Troy and let a shepherd called Paris judge between them.

  CHAPTER 2

  THE JUDGEMENT OF PARIS

  *

  Was this the face that launched a thousand ships

  And burnt the topless towers of Ilion?

  Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss!

  MARLOWE

  Dr Faustus

  2

  After Heracles, Peleus and Telamon killed King Laomedon and destroyed the old town of Troy, his youngest son Priam became king. He called together the Trojans from near and far, and at his direction they built a new city, larger, stronger, with great gates and walls and towers.

  He ruled there in peace and the land grew rich. His Queen, Hecuba, bore him many handsome sons, the eldest of whom was called Hector. But just before the second son, Paris, was born, Queen Hecuba dreamt a terrible dream.

  She dreamt that the child was born, but instead of an ordinary baby it turned out to be a Fury (such as those daughters of Hades whom the grim Lord of Death sends out to work vengeance on the wicked), a Fury with a hundred hands and every hand holding a lighted torch. In her dream the Fury rushed through Troy setting all on fire and pushing down the newly built towers.

  When she awoke, Hecuba told Priam of her dream, and he sent for all the wise men of Troy to see if any of them could say what it meant. They told him that, if he lived, Paris would bring about the ruin of his country and the destruction of Troy itself; and they advised Priam to kill the child quickly.

  Priam was very sad at this, yet when the baby boy was born he gave him to a faithful servant and bade him carry the child far away on to the lonely slopes of Mount Ida, and leave him there to be eaten by wild beasts. The servant did as he was told, leaving the child near the den of a fierce bear. Five days later, when hunting on Ida, the man revisited the place and to his amazement found the baby Paris alive and well in the bear's very lair, lying among the cubs.

  ‘The child must be fated to live,’ thought the servant, ‘if even the wild beasts feed and tend it,’ and he picked up Paris and took him to his own cottage. Here he brought up the boy as his son, teaching him to hunt, and to tend the flocks and herds on the mountain slopes.

  Paris grew up strong and brave, and from the beginning he was one of the handsomest boys to be seen, so fine indeed that the nymph Oenone fell in love with him, and they were married and lived in a beautiful cave on Mount Ida; and there a son was born to them called Corythus.

  Paris took great interest in the herd of cattle which was his charge, and when he was still quite a boy he drove away a band of robbers who tried to steal them. He was particularly proud of the herd bull, a beautiful milk-white animal stronger and finer than any other bull on Ida. He was so confident in the superior merits of his bull that he offered to crown with gold any finer than his own.

  One day, as a jest, the Immortal Ares turned himself into a bull and got Hermes to drive him up Ida to compete with Paris's animal. The stranger was even more beautiful and stronger than the champion, and Paris without hesitation awarded it the promised crown.

  It was on account of this scrupulous fairness that Zeus, who refused to judge them himself, sent the three lovely Immortals, Hera, Athena and Aphrodite, to have their contest for the ownership of the golden apple of Discord decided by Paris.

  Hermes, the Immortal Guide, led the way to Mount Ida, and there found Paris, young, strong and handsome in his goatskin cloak, seated on the hillside playing sweet tunes on his pipe, with his herdsman's crook laid beside him.

  Looking up, Paris beheld the Immortal drawing near to him, and knew him by the winged sandals and the herald's wand. Then he would have leapt up and hidden in the woods, but Hermes called to him:

  ‘Do not fear, herdsman Paris – you who are greater than you yet know. I come to you from Zeus, who knows of your fairness in judgement, and I bring with me three Immortal Queens. You must choose which of them is the fairest – for such is the will of Zeus.’

  Then Paris answered: ‘Lord Hermes, I am but a mortal, how can I judge of Immortal loveliness? And if judge I do, how can I escape the vengeance of those who are not chosen?’

  ‘They will abide by your decision,’ answered Hermes, ‘and it is a mortal choice that Zeus requires. As for what will come of it, that Zeus alone knows, for all this happens by his will.’

  Then the three Immortals drew near, and Paris stood for a little, dazzled by their shining loveliness.

  Presently Hera came to him, tall and stately, a Queen of Queens with a shimmering diadem on her beautiful forehead and her large eyes shining with majesty:

  ‘Choose me,’ she said in her rich voice, ‘and I will make you lord of all Asia. You shall have power greater than any king: if you will it, Greece shall be yours also…’

  Paris looked upon her, and the beauty he saw was the beauty of power, of sway and dominion; he saw all his dreams of such ambition given shape and form in this lovely Immortal Queen.

  He gasped and hid his eyes; and when he looked again Athena stood before him in quiet dignity. From her eyes shone wisdom and thought, and the helmet shimmered on her head, in token of deeds done and not merely planned.

  ‘I will give you wisdom,’ she said, ‘you shall be the wisest of men, and
the kings of the earth shall come to you for counsel. With this wisdom you may conquer in war and rule if so you choose.’

  Then Paris forgot his dreams of kingship and majesty: instead he saw knowledge and skill in all arts and in all learning – and they took the form of the wise-eyed, dignified Immortal whose cool hand rested for a moment on his shoulder.

  Paris bowed his head, and when he raised it again he saw Aphrodite, lovelier than a dream of beauty, standing before him. Her garments were spun by the Graces and dyed in the flowers of Spring - in crocus and hyacinth, in flourishing violet and the rose's lovely bloom, so sweet and delicious, and in those heavenly buds the flowers of the narcissus and lily. Her face and form were beautiful beyond imagining, and her voice was soft and thrilling:

  ‘Take me,’ she murmured, ‘and forget harsh wars and cares of state. Take my beauty and leave the sceptre and the torch of wisdom. I know nothing of battles or of learning: what has Aphrodite to do with the sword or the pen? In place of wisdom, in place of sovereignty, I will give you the most beautiful woman upon earth to be your bride. Helen of Sparta is her name, and she shall be called the World's Desire and beauty's very self.’

  Paris did not hesitate, but gave the Golden Apple to Aphrodite, and she laughed sweetly and triumphantly.

  ‘Now, Paris,’ she said, ‘I will be ever at your side and I will lead you to the golden Helen!’

  But Hera and Athena turned away with anger in their eyes, and from that moment began their hatred of Troy and of all the Trojans.

  Paris slept on the flowery slope of Mount Ida, and when he awoke he could not tell whether he had given judgement in a dream or in reality. But now he could no longer be happy with Oenone, nor as a herdsman in the woods and on the mountain slopes. For, waking and asleep, he saw the fair form of Aphrodite and heard her voice; and sometimes the form and the voice changed and took the shape and tones of a mortal woman, more lovely than any dream, who was destined to be his bride. He waited to see what Aphrodite would do to fulfil her promise, and it was not long before things began to happen.

  King Priam, believing his son Paris to be dead, held funeral games each year in memory of him, and this year he sent his servants up on to Ida for a bull to be the chief prize.

  They chose the magnificent white bull which was Paris's pride, and drove it away, in spite of all he could say to persuade them to leave it. So, half in anger and half in curiosity, Paris followed them down to Troy, and found a great crowd gathered to watch the chariot race.

  When this was ended, Priam declared that the boxing match would be open to all comers – and Paris at once entered for it. He boxed so well that he won the laurel crown; and, competing in the foot-race, won that also. The other sons of Priam

  were furious that a strange herdsman should win, and they challenged him themselves; but he outran them all, and having won three events was declared victor of the day and winner of the prize bull.

  Then Hector and his brother Deiphobus were so angry that they drew their swords to slay Paris. But the old servant flung himseif at Priam's feet crying:

  ‘My lord king, this is Paris, the son whom you bade me cast out to die on the mountainside!’

  Then Paris was welcomed eagerly by the King and Queen, and by his brothers as well, and was soon reinstated as a prince of Troy.

  But his sister Cassandra, who was a prophetess, cried aloud that if Paris were allowed to live, Troy was doomed. Priam, however, merely smiled at her, and answered playfully:

  ‘Better that Troy should fall than that I should lose this wonderful new son of mine!’

  Now Cassandra suffered this fate: that she should speak the truth and not be believed. For she had offended Apollo and, since he could not take from her the gift of prophecy which he had bestowed, he took this means of rendering the gift useless.

  After a while, Aphrodite instructed Paris to build ships and sail to Greece, and she sent her son Aeneas with him. For Zeus had been angered with Aphrodite when she boasted that she had made all the Immortals fall in love with mortals, except the Three Heavenly Maidens, Hestia, Athena and Artemis, and he had made Aphrodite herself wed a human. She chose Anchises, a prince of Troy, the grandson of King Ilus and cousin of Priam, who was at the time a herdsman on Mount Ida. There Aeneas was born, and Aphrodite warned Anchises that he would be punished if ever he boasted of his Immortal bride: but boast he did, one day when he had feasted over-merrily, and on the instant a flash of fire struck him to the ground. Yet, for the sake of Aeneas, and also for his own virtues, Aphrodite spared his life: but he went lame from that day.

  When the ships were built, Paris sailed joyously forth over the dancing waves, though Cassandra prophesied of ills to come, and Oenone wept, lonely and deserted, in her mountain cave.

  CHAPTER 3

  HELEN OF SPARTA

  *

  Even such (for sailing hither I saw far hence, And where Eurotas hollows his moist rock Nigh Sparta with a strenuous-hearted stream) Even such I saw their sisters; one swan-white, The little Helen, and less fair than she Fair Clytemnestra, grave as pasturing fawns Who feed and fear some arrow…

  A. C. SWINBURNE

  Atalanta in Calydon

  3

  The bride whom Paris went forth to seek at the command of Aphrodite, and to carry away to Troy, had already been sought in marriage by all the Heroes of Greece. She had even been carried away once when she was a young girl – by Theseus, the famous king of Athens who, in his old age, was far from being the noble Hero of his earlier years.

  Theseus had always been violent and impulsive, but it was only after he made friends with Pirithous, King of the Lapiths, that he turned from good to evil.

  This friendship began when the wild women called Amazons landed in Greece and marched to attack Athens. Theseus defeated them on the Hill of Ares, or Areopagus, and drove them away. But Pirithous, thinking that Theseus would be wearied and weakened after so fierce a battle, chose this moment to march towards Athens with his lawless followers.

  But Theseus marched to meet him, and there would have been a fierce battle if the two kings had not decided suddenly to make peace instead. For when they met, each loved the other at sight, and swore a firm friendship.

  Theseus then visited the land of the Lapiths to attend the wedding of Pirithous, and at the feast a strange battle broke out. Among the guests were many Centaurs, and these wild half-men grew drunk with wine and carried off the bride and all the other women present.

  A great battle developed in which the Centaurs were driven far away; and after that, King Pirithous was even more devoted to Theseus than ever – though he lost his bride in the battle.

  Now Theseus was one of the great heroes of Greece, second only to Heracles himself, and his deeds had won him great fame. He had cleared the land of many pests and monsters, had slain the Minotaur and saved Athens from its tribute to King Minos, besides sailing to Colchis with Jason and the Argonauts, helping to hunt the Calydo-nian Boar, and defeating the fierce invasion of Amazons.

  But after his friendship with Pirithous began, he seemed to lose his heroic virtues. He became cruel and despotic, was banished for a year from Athens for a murder, and while away caused the death of his own son Hippolytus in a moment of rage and jealousy.

  In the past he had done much for Athens, and he stood as an example of a just and pious king; but now the Athenians began to murmur against him and to wish that his cousin Menestheus, who was in fact the rightful heir, sat on the throne in his place.

  Theseus was middle-aged by now, but he and Pirithous decided suddenly that they must both marry again:

  ‘But we cannot stoop to ordinary maidens!’ cried Pirithous. ‘Our wives must be daughters of Zeus, no less!’

  Theseus agreed to anything Pirithous suggested, and even swore the most solemn oath possible that he would help him to capture and carry away who ever his chosen bride might be. And Pirithous vowed to do the same for Theseus.

  Then they cast about for daughters of Zeus.
Now this was difficult, for Alcmena had been Zeus's last mortal wife, and Heracles his last human child. But about this time it began to be rumoured that King Tyndareus of Sparta had a daughter who was likely to grow into the most beautiful woman in the world. It was also said that Zeus, having been father of the strongest man who ever lived, was determined, for purposes of his own, to have a daughter who would be the most beautiful woman of all; and further, it was added that he had visited Queen Leda in the form of a swan, and that their daughter Helen had been hatched out of an egg.

  However this might be, Helen of Sparta, even at the age of twelve, was ‘beauty's very self’, far outshining even her sister Clytemnestra. Theseus heard of her, and decided that here was his destined bride.

  So he and Pirithous set out for Sparta, seized Helen while she was worshipping in the Temple of Artemis and carried her off to Athens. But the Athenians were so disgusted at what Theseus had done that he took her to the castle of Aphidna not far away, and left her there attended by his mother Aethra, and guarded by a band of faithful followers.

  It was now the turn of Pirithous to choose a wife: for according to their agreement, neither was to marry until both their brides had been captured. Now Pirithous, in his mad pride and irreverence, declared that only Persephone herself, the daughter of Zeus and Demeter and wife of Hades, would satisfy him. Theseus tried to persuade him to aim a little lower, but in vain.

  So the two ravishers set off for the Realm of the Dead, and Theseus, profiting by all that he had heard from Heracles concerning his journey to and from that dread land when performing the last of his Labours for King Eurystheus, led the way to the Cave of Taenarum.

  Down by the steep, dangerous paths they went, and came in time to the gloomy kingdom where Hades reigned. That Lord of many Guests knew quite well on what impious errand they came, but he hid his knowledge and made them welcome.