by Homer
At one and the same moment they all gave their horses the whip, shook the reins on their backs and set them going with a sharp word of command. The horses raced at speed across the plain and soon left the ships behind. The dust that rose from underneath their chests hung in the air like a storm-cloud or a fog, and their manes streamed back in the wind. At one moment the chariots were in contact with the bountiful earth and at the (370) next bounding high in the air. The drivers stood up in their chariots, and every man’s heart was pounding with desire for victory. They each yelled at their horses, who flew along in a cloud of dust.
ATHENE helps Diomedes and wrecks Eumelus
But it was not till their speedy teams were on the final stretch heading back to the grey sea that each man showed his true ability and forced the pace. The fast mares of Eumelus now surged ahead, but Diomedes’ stallions of the breed of Tros stayed close behind, and there was very little in it. They looked as though at (380) any moment they might leap into Eumelus’ chariot. They were flying along with their heads just over him, warming his back and broad shoulders with their breath. In fact, Diomedes would have overhauled Eumelus then and there or made it a dead heat, if Phoebus Apollo, who was still angry with Tydeus’ son, had not knocked the shining whip out of his hand. Tears of frustration poured down Diomedes’ face as he saw Eumelus’ mares pulling away and his own horses slowing down in the absence of the whip.
But Apollo did not get away with it: Athene spotted him foiling Diomedes. She sped after that shepherd of the people, (390) gave him back his whip and put fresh spirit in his horses. In her fury she chased after Eumelus too and used her powers as a goddess to smash the yoke of his chariot, with the result that his mares ran free, off on their own, and the shaft slipped to the ground, while Eumelus himself was flung out of the chariot and came down by the wheel. The skin was ripped off his elbows, mouth and nose; his forehead was bruised; his eyes filled with tears and any words stuck in his throat. Meanwhile Diomedes swept round the wreckage with his horses, having left the others (400) well behind. Athene filled his pair with strength and ensured his victory.
Next after Diomedes came auburn-haired Menelaus, Atreus’ son; and next again Antilochus, who was shouting at his father’s horses:
‘Run on, you two! Give it everything, now! I’m not asking you to catch that pair ahead, warlike Diomedes’ horses. Athene has just given them a new turn of speed and won him the glory. But catch Menelaus’ pair and don’t get left behind by them. Quick! Or the horse Aethe will pour scorn all over you – and she a mare! Why are you hanging back, my fine horses? I tell (410) you bluntly and I mean it – no more of Nestor’s tender loving care for you! He’ll slit your throats without a moment’s hesitation if you take it easy and leave us with a smaller prize. So get after them! Come on! Flat out! Trust me to find some way of slipping past Menelaus where the track is narrow. I shan’t miss my chance.’
So he spoke, and his horses, taking their master’s threat to heart, put on speed for a while.
Antilochus ‘carves up’ Menelaus
Very soon, warlike Antilochus saw a place where the sunken (420) track grew narrow. It ran through a gully: water piled up by the winter rains had carried part of it away and deepened the whole pass. Menelaus was picking a course through it, making it difficult for anyone to come alongside. But Antilochus steered off the track altogether and gave chase along a slight diversion. Menelaus was alarmed and shouted at him:
‘Antilochus, this is stupid driving! Slow down! The track’s narrow here. There will soon be more room to pass. Watch out you don’t hit my chariot and wreck us both.’
So he spoke, but Antilochus, pretending he had not heard (430) him, laid it on with the whip and drove faster than ever. They both ran on for about the distance a discus will carry when a young man releases it with a swing of the arm to test his strength. Then Menelaus’ pair gave way and fell back. He eased the pace himself on purpose, fearing the horses might collide on the track and tip over the light chariots, in which case their masters, through their eagerness to win, would find themselves rolling about in the dust. Auburn-haired Menelaus shouted abuse at him and said:
‘Antilochus, you’re the most appalling driver in the world! (440) Go to hell! We Greeks were mistaken to think you had any sense. You won’t carry off the prize till you’ve answered on oath for this affair.’
With these words Menelaus called out to his horses:
‘No holding back! Don’t stand there feeling sorry for yourselves! That pair ahead of you will tire in the leg far sooner than you. They are neither of them as young as they were.’
So he spoke, and his horses, taking their master’s orders to heart, ran on more strongly and soon closed the gap on the other pair.
Meanwhile from their positions in the crowd the Greeks were looking out for the horses as they flew along in a cloud of dust. (450) Idomeneus leader of the Cretans was the first to see them. He was sitting well above the rest on high ground outside the crowd, and when he heard a charioteer urging on his horses in the distance, he knew the voice even from there. He also recognized one of the leading horses, which showed up well, being chestnut all over except for a round white patch like the full moon which it had on its forehead. Idomeneus stood up and called to the Greeks:
Idomeneus and Ajax argue about the leader
‘My friends, rulers and leaders of the Greeks, am I the only one who can see the horses, or do you see them too? It seems to me a new pair are leading and the driver also looks different. Eumelus’ mares, who were ahead on the outward lap, must (460) have come to grief out there on the plain: I certainly saw them leading at the turning-post and now I can’t see them anywhere, though I’ve searched the whole Trojan plain. Perhaps Eumelus dropped his reins, could not hold his horses round the post and failed to complete the turn. Yes, that’s where he must have taken a fall and crashed his chariot, while his mares swerved off the track, panicked and bolted. But do get up and have a look for yourselves.(470) I can’t be quite sure, but the leading man looks like an Aetolian to me, yes, one of our Greek leaders, the son of horse-taming Tydeus, mighty Diomedes!’
Swift Ajax son of Oïleus contradicted him rudely:
‘Idomeneus, why have you always been such a loud-mouth? Those high-stepping mares out there have a long way to go yet. And you aren’t by any means the youngest man among us and you don’t have the sharpest pair of eyes in your head either. Yet there you are, mouthing off as usual. There is absolutely no need for it. There are many better men here. That pair in front (480) is the same that led before, Eumelus’ mares. And there’s Eumelus in the chariot, reins in his hands.’
The leader of the Cretans was furious and replied:
‘Ajax, master of the insult and so stupid, you’ve no equal in the army for sheer pig-headedness. Come on, let’s have a bet - a tripod or a cauldron – about the leading pair, and make Agamemnon our referee. You’ll learn the truth when you pay up.’
So he spoke, and swift Ajax son of Oïleus rose in fury to (490) retaliate with abuse. And the quarrel would have gone further still, if Achilles himself had not leapt to his feet and spoken:
‘Ajax and Idomeneus, stop quarrelling and exchanging these disgraceful insults. It’s not right. You would be the first to condemn anyone else who did it. Sit down in the crowd and keep your eyes on the horses. They’ll soon be coming along, flat out for victory. Then each of you can recognize them for himself, and who’s first and second.’
Diomedes wins, Antilochus second
(500) So he spoke, and Diomedes was by now very close. He was driving with the whip, swinging his arm right back for every lash. His horses stepped high, speeding over the ground. Showers of dust fell on the driver all the time and, as the fast pair flew over the ground, the gold- and tin-plated chariot came spinning after them and scarcely left a tyre-mark on the fine dust behind.
Diomedes drew up in the middle of the gathering, sweat pouring to the ground from his horses’ necks and chests. He (510) le
apt down from his glittering chariot and leant his whip against the yoke. Mighty Sthenelus his attendant did not stand on ceremony but promptly took possession of the prizes, giving the tripod with the handles to his exultant men and telling them to lead the woman off. Then he unyoked the horses.
As he did so, Antilochus son of Nestor came in next. He had beaten Menelaus not by any turn of speed but by his clever manoeuvre. Yet even so Menelaus and his horses came in close behind. Picture the space that separates a horse from the wheel of a chariot when it is straining at the yoke and pulling its master over the plain; the tip of its tail keeps brushing the wheel-rim (520) and as the wheel spins there is hardly any gap between them, however far the horse runs over the flat. There was no more than that between Menelaus and matchless Antilochus. It is true that, at the time of the incident, Menelaus had been left as much as a discus-throw behind. But he quickly made up the ground: Aethe – she was Agamemnon’s lovely mare – had begun to show what she was made of, and in a longer race Menelaus would have overtaken Antilochus. There would have been no dispute about it.
Meriones, Idomeneus’ brave attendant, came in a spear-throw (530) behind famous Menelaus. His lovely-maned horses were the slowest pair in the race and he himself the least able driver. The last of them all to arrive was Admetus’ son Eumelus. He was dragging his handsome chariot himself and driving his horses on in front of him. When he saw this, swift-footed godlike Achilles was sorry for the man. He stood up among the Greeks and spoke winged words:
‘The best driver of the lot has come in last! Let’s give him a prize, as he deserves. Make it second, since Diomedes, of course, takes first.’
So he spoke, and everyone applauded the idea. Then Achilles, (540) encouraged by the Greeks’ applause, would have given the mare to Eumelus, if Antilochus son of great-hearted Nestor had not leapt up in front of him with an objection:
Second prize: the dispute (21.183)
‘Achilles, I shall be extremely angry if you do as you suggest. You are proposing to rob me of my prize because Eumelus’ chariot and horses came to grief - as did Eumelus himself, excellent charioteer though he is. The fact is that he ought to have prayed to the immortal gods; then he would never have come in last in the race.
‘However, if you are sorry for the man and sympathetic to him, there is plenty of gold in your hut, and bronze and sheep, (550) and you have female slaves too and horses. Choose something out of these later on and give him an even larger prize than mine. Or hand it to him here and now and hear the troops applaud you. But I will not give up this mare. Anyone who wants to try can come and fight me for her with his fists.’
So he spoke, and swift-footed godlike Achilles smiled. He had always liked his comrade-in-arms Antilochus and was delighted with him now. He replied and spoke winged words:
‘Antilochus, if you are telling me to find an extra prize from my store for Eumelus, I will do so. I will give him the body-armour (560) I took from Asteropaeus. It is made of bronze, decorated with a bright tin overlay all round. It will be worth a great deal to him.’
He spoke and told his companion Automedon to fetch the body-armour from his hut. Automedon went and brought it to him; and Achilles handed it to Eumelus, who was delighted to have it.
Now Menelaus got to his feet. He had by no means forgiven Antilochus and was in an ugly mood. A herald handed him the speaker’s staff and called for silence. Then Menelaus, a godlike man, spoke up:
(570) ‘Antilochus, you used to be a very sensible fellow. Now see what you have done. By cutting in across me with your much slower pair, you have humiliated me and everything I stand for, and robbed my horses of a win. Rulers and leaders of the Greeks, come, judge between the two of us impartially, without favour to either side, so that none of our warriors will be able to say: ‘‘It was only by lying that Menelaus beat Antilochus and walked off with the mare. His horses really were much slower. It’s his rank and power that bring him out on top.’’
‘No, on second thoughts, I will settle the matter myself. And (580) I am not afraid any Greek will criticize me for it: it will be a straight deal. Olympian-born Antilochus, come forward here, as convention dictates; stand in front of your chariot and pair, holding the slender whip you earlier drove with; touch your horses; and swear in the name of Poseidon, the earthshaker who encircles the world, that you did not obstruct my chariot with a deliberate foul.’
Sensible Antilochus replied:
Agreement is reached
‘Hold on, now! I am a much younger man than you, lord Menelaus, and you, my elder and better, know well enough how a young man can go too far. (590) He thinks faster, but his judgement is not so sound. So bear with me. I myself will give you the mare I won. Moreover, should you ask for something better from my store, I would rather give it to you at once than for ever fall out of your favour, Olympian-born Menelaus, and be at fault in the eyes of the gods.’
Great-hearted Nestor’s son spoke, led the mare over and handed her to Menelaus, whose heart was warmed like the dew that hangs on ears of corn when the fields bristle with a ripening (600) crop. So, Menelaus, was your heart warmed. Menelaus addressed him and spoke winged words:
‘Antilochus, it is my turn to yield: I cannot be angry with you now. You have never been impulsive or foolish before, though this was certainly a case where the high spirits of youth got the better of discretion. But another time be careful not to play tricks on your betters. No other Greek would have found me so easy to placate. But you have endured a lot and worked hard on my behalf, and so have your excellent father and your brother Thrasymedes. I therefore accept your apology. And not only (610) that, I will give you the mare, though she is mine, to show our countrymen here I’m not arrogant or inflexible.’
He spoke and handed over the mare to Noemon, one of Antilochus’ men, to lead away, and himself took the gleaming cauldron. Meriones, who had come in fourth, took the two talents of gold. The fifth prize, the two-handled pan, remained unclaimed. Achilles gave this to Nestor. He carried it across the gathering to him, stood by him and said:
‘Here, venerable sir, is a keepsake for yourself. Let it remind you of Patroclus’ funeral, for you will not see the man himself (620) among us any more. I am giving you the prize just like that, since you will not be boxing or wrestling or entering for the foot-race or javelin. Your years sit too heavily on you for that.’ With these words Achilles put the prize in Nestor’s hands. Nestor was delighted to receive it and addressed him and spoke winged words:
Prize-winner Nestor tells a story
‘Yes, my boy, you are quite right in all you say. My knees are gone, I am not so steady on my feet, dear friend, and I cannot throw rights and lefts as quickly as I used to.
‘Ah, if only I were still as young, and with all my powers (630) intact, as I was when the Eleans buried lord Amarynceus at Buprasion, and his sons held funeral games in his honour. There was not a man to match me there, from Elis, Pylos or proud Aetolia. In the boxing I beat Clytomedes son of Enops, and in the wrestling Ancaeus from Pleuron. Over distance, I defeated Iphiclus, who was a fine athlete; and in the javelin I out-threw Phyleus and Polydorus too. It was only in the chariot-race I was beaten, by the two Moliones who used their two-to-one advantage to get in front. They begrudged me the victory, (640) because the biggest prizes were reserved for this contest. They were twins, you see. All the way from start to finish, yes, all the way, one of them did the driving and the other wielded the whip.
‘That’s the kind of man I was. But now I must leave this sort of thing to younger men and take the painful lessons of old age to heart. But at that time I stood in a class by myself. Well, get on with honouring your companion in these funeral games. Meanwhile I accept your gift with pleasure. I am delighted you always realize how well disposed I am to you, and never pass up the chance of paying me the respect I am rightly owed among (650) the Greeks. May the gods reward you fully for what you have done.’
So he spoke, and after he had heard all that Nestor had
to say by way of thanks, Achilles made his way through the great gathering of Greeks and brought out the prizes for the boxing, a dangerous sport. For the victor he fetched and tethered in the crowd a hard-working mule, a female six years old and broken in – which is a hard job in the case of such animals. For the loser there was a two-handled cup. Achilles stood up and addressed the Greeks:
Boxing: Epeius beats Euryalus
‘Agamemnon and you other Greek men-at-arms, these are the prizes for which we now invite our two best men to square up to each other and box to a finish. The man blessed with endurance by Apollo (660) and who comes off best in everyone’s opinion here can take this hard-working mule back to his hut. The loser will receive this two-handled cup.’
So he spoke, and immediately Epeius son of Panopeus rose up, a fine, tall man and superb fighter. He put his hand on the hard-working mule and said:
‘Step forward, the man who wants to carry off the two-handled cup. I tell you, the mule is mine, and nobody is going (670) to knock me out and take her: I am the greatest. True, I’m not so good on the battlefield – no one can be a winner at everything – but isn’t that enough? But I tell you bluntly and I mean it. I’m going to tear his flesh to ribbons and smash his bones. His family mourners had better be standing by to take him away when I’ve finished with him.’
So he spoke and was received in complete silence by them all. The only man who dared to take it up was Euryalus, a godlike man, the son of lord Mecisteus whose father was Talaus. After Oedipus had fallen, Mecisteus went to Thebes for the funeral (680) games and there beat all the Thebans. His cousin the great spearman Diomedes bustled round Euryalus and gave him the warmest encouragement, because he very much wanted to see him win. First he helped him on with his loin-cloth and then bound on his hands the well-cut oxhide thongs.
