“You are right,” answered the son of Tydeus. “But my heart would burst if, in time to come, Hector could say in an assembly of Trojans: ‘The son of Tydeus was afraid and retreated to the ships!’ ”
But Nestor said: “And do you think that the Trojan men and women whose friends and husbands you killed will believe Hector when he calls you a coward?” With these words he guided the horses away from the battlefield, and Hector, racing after them with his Trojans, cried: “Son of Tydeus, up to now the Argives have honored you at their banquets and in assembly. From this moment on they will scorn you. It is not you who will vanquish Troy and take our women away on your ships!” Diomedes wavered. Three times he turned over in his mind whether or not he should head for the field again and drive straight at derisive Hector. But three times Zeus thundered up on Ida with an echoing crash, and so Diomedes continued to flee and Hector to pursue.
Hera watched and was dismayed. In vain she tried to move Poseidon, the special patron of the Danai, to help his people, but he did not venture to act contrary to the command of his powerful brother. By this time the fugitives had reached the trench and wall in front of the fleet, and Hector would surely have invaded their camp and tossed a firebrand on the ships, had not Agamemnon, heartened by Hera, gathered the frightened Danai about him. He boarded the great ship of Odysseus which towered far above the rest. Here he stood erect on the deck, flung his mantle of shimmering crimson across his shoulder, and called down to the one side where the house of Ajax, the son of Telemon, stood, and to the other where the son of Peleus was encamped. “Shame on you! Where is that great courage you vaunted when you emptied your cups? We have yielded to a single man, to Hector alone! Soon he will set our ships afire. O Zeus, what curse have you laid upon me! If ever I have honored you with prayers and offerings, do not let the Trojans vanquish me here by our own ships.” So he spoke with tears, and the father of gods had compassion on him and sent the Argives a happy omen: an eagle which gripped in its claws a fawn and dropped it before the altar the Achaeans had reared to Zeus.
The hearts of the Argives beat high at this sign, and again they bounded forward to confront the invading foe. Ahead of all the rest was Diomedes who leapt the trench with his horses and drove his spear into the back of Agelaus of Troy who had wheeled his chariot about for flight. After him came Agamemnon and Menelaus, and then the two Ajaces; after them Idomeneus and Meriones; then Eurypylus. Teucer was the ninth. Protected by the shield of Ajax, his half brother, he shot one Trojan after another into the dust. He had just mowed down the eighth when Agamemnon looked at him with flashing eyes and exclaimed: “That is the way, my friend! Go on like this and be a beacon among the Argives. If Zeus and Athene grant us the conquest of Troy, you shall be the first to receive a gift of honor from me.”
“I need no promises, my king,” Teucer replied. “I shall not spare myself. I am putting forth all my strength, but as yet I have not succeeded in shooting down that mad dog.” And he launched his arrow at Hector. It missed and struck a bastard son of King Priam, Gorgythion, whose head, weighed by the helmet, sank to one side, just as the poppy bends under a spring shower. Teucer sent a second arrow after the first. But Apollo diverted it from its mark, and it pierced the breast of Archeptolemus who was driving Hector’s horses. This friend too Hector let he, though he was filled with bitter sorrow for him, and called a third to his chariot. Then with burning zest he dashed forward, and just as Teucer was again bending his bow, Hector hit his collarbone with a long jagged stone; the bowstring snapped, his wrist grew numb, and he sank to his knees. But Ajax took care of his brother. He circled him, keeping him covered with his shield until two friends lifted him from the ground and carried him moaning to the ships.
And now Zeus again kindled the courage of the Trojans. Eyes glowing with rage, Hector stormed after the Argives as a hound pursues a boar over the wooded hills and slew everyone who came within hurling distance. Again the Argives were crowded back to their ships and prayed to their gods in anguish of soul. Hera heard them and was moved to pity. She turned to Athene. “The Danai are dying,” she said. “Has not the time come for us to save them? See how Hector is harassing them—what carnage he has wrought!”
“Yes, my father is cruel,” Athene replied. “He has forgotten how faithfully I helped his son Heracles in all his quests. Now Thetis has bribed him with her flattery and her caresses, and I am hateful in his eyes. Yet I think the time will soon come when he shall again call me his dear blue-eyed daughter. Help me harness the horses, Hera. I myself will go to Mount Ida to speak to my father.”
When Zeus became aware of her intentions, he scowled and bade his messenger Iris, fleet as the wind, halt the chariot with the two goddesses as it was passing through the foremost gate of Olympus. When they heard his command they turned back; soon after, Zeus himself appeared in his thunder chariot, and the mountain of the gods quaked at his coming. He did not relent to his wife and his daughter though both pleaded with him. “The Trojans shall win a far greater victory tomorrow,” he said to Hera. “Great Hector shall not rest from battle until the Argives fight at the very rudders of their ships and Achilles rises in his house at their clamor. This is the will of Fate.” Hera fell silent and her face was sad.
It was dusk and the fight around the ships died down. Hector summoned his warriors to one side of the battlefield; they sat in council near the waters of the Scamander. “Had night not come,” he said, “the enemy would be destroyed by now. But even though darkness has overtaken us, let us not return to the city. Some shall go and bring from it horned cattle and sheep, wine and bread. Watchfires will protect us from sudden attack while we eat or tend our wounds. And at break of day we will renew the onslaught against the ships. Then we shall see whether Diomedes thrusts me from the wall or whether I strip his dead body of its armor!” A wave of applause ran through the ranks of the Trojans. They did as he had counselled. All night they rested, and many fires were lit. Fifty at a time they regaled themselves with food and wine. Their horses stood near the harness and fed on spelt and barley.
THE ARGIVES SEND A MESSAGE TO ACHILLES
The terror and confusion of flight had not yet subsided in the Argive camp when Agamemnon had the princes summoned to a council, each one by name, but without noisy ado. Weighed with care and grief they came together, and the son of Atreus addressed them, sighing between his words. “Friends and guardians of our people, Zeus has been harsh with me. He who gave me so gracious an omen that I should conquer Troy and return home a victor has deceived me and now bids me return to Argos inglorious and leave behind on the field of battle many brave warriors. It is useless for us to resist the will of him who has shattered so many cities and will shatter many more. We are not destined to conquer Troy. So let us board our swift ships and sail to the land of our fathers.”
Long after they had heard these mournful words, the heroes of Greece sat in silence. Then Diomedes spoke. “Only a short while ago,” he said, “you mocked me before the Achaeans. You jeered at my lack of courage, O king. Yet now it seems to me that when Zeus conferred the scepter on you, he did not give you the valor that should go with it. Do you believe in all seriousness that the men of Greece are as unwarlike as would appear from your words? If your heart yearns for home, go! The way lies open, your ship is ready. But the rest of us, we other Argives, will remain until the palace of Priam lies in ruins. And even if everyone chose to leave, I and my friend Sthenelus would stay, in the faith that a god has guided us here!”
When he had ended, the heroes shouted acclaim, and Nestor said: “You are as young as my youngest son, yet every word you spoke was right and weighty. Come, Agamemnon, give a feast for these leaders of men. There is wine enough in your house. Those who keep the watch shall have their fare by the wall which skirts the trench, but we shall pass the cup here and listen to the counsel of the wisest among us.”
And so it was done. The princes feasted with Agamemnon and were comforted, and after the banquet Nestor again rose
and addressed the gathering. “Agamemnon, you know all that has happened since the day when against our judgment you carried the lovely daughter of Briseus from the house of Achilles. I, for one, warned you against this with great earnestness. Now we must think how we may persuade the offended son of Peleus to give up his grudge and anger.”
“You are right,” Agamemnon replied. “I am at fault, and I do not deny it. But I am willing to make good my mistake and offer ample recompense as well: ten talents of gold, seven tripods, twenty cauldrons, twelve horses, seven fair women from Lesbos whom I myself carried from their homes as spoils, and lovely Briseis herself. Though I took her from Achilles, I have not touched her, and I will swear to this with a solemn oath. When Troy is vanquished and the time to divide the spoils of victory is come, I myself will fill his ship with gold and bronze, and he may choose for himself those twenty women of Troy who, after Helen, are fairest. When we return to Argos, he shall take one of my daughters to wife. I will cherish him as my son-in-law, and Orestes, my only son, shall not be honored more or held more dear. Seven cities will I give him as dower with the bride. All this I promise to do as soon as he gives up his grudge.”
“Truly,” said Nestor, “these are no mean gifts you are willing to offer Achilles. Let us at once send chosen men to the house of the hero: Phoenix in the lead, then Ajax the Great, Odysseus, and with them the heralds Hodius and Eurybates.”
After making solemn libation, the princes Nestor had named left the gathering and set out for the ships of the Myrmidons. They found Achilles plucking the strings of a lyre delicately curved and fitted with a silver crossbar. He had taken it as spoils from Eetion’s city and was easing his heart by singing of the glorious exploits of heroes. His friend Patroclus sat opposite, silently waiting until he had ended his song. When the son of Peleus saw the men coming with Odysseus in the lead, he rose in surprise, keeping his lyre in hand. Patroclus too got up. Both went forward to meet the emissaries, and Achilles took Phoenix and Odysseus by the hands, saying: “Greetings, my friends! I suppose you have come because you are in need of something or other, but so great is my love for you, so much greater than for any among the Argives, that you are welcome to me even when I am in an angry mood.”
Swiftly Patroclus fetched out a bowl of wine. Achilles himself fastened on a spit the back of a goat and a sheep and the shoulder of a fatted pig, and roasted these with the help of Automedon. Grouped about the board they ate their meal. When they had refreshed themselves with meat and wine, Ajax signed to Phoenix, but Odysseus anticipated him. He filled his cup and drank to Achilles, then clasped his hand and said: “Hail to you, son of Peleus! This feast was, indeed, abundant. But it is not your rich fare we have come for; overwhelming misfortune has driven us to you! For now it is a question of our rescue or our fall, according to whether you do or do not support us. The Trojans are threatening the wall and the ships. Hector’s eyes flash with the lust to murder, and he rages at will, putting his trust in Zeus. Rescue the Argives at this late hour when their fortunes are at an ebb! Curb your pride! Believe me that a friendly spirit avails more than destructive feud. Your own father Peleus gave you such counsel when you set out against Troy.” And then Odysseus counted up all the magnificent gifts Agamemnon offered to placate him.
But Achilles replied: “Noble son of Laertes, to your fair words I must answer ‘no,’ without an instant’s hesitation. Agamemnon is as hateful to me as the gates of Hades, and neither he nor the Danai will ever induce me to fight in their ranks again. For have I had thanks for my labors and toils? Like a mother bird who brings her fledgling the morsels she finds, even if she herself goes hungry, I spent many troubled nights and days when the blood ran in rivers to conquer a woman for that ungrateful prince, and whatever I gained I brought the son of Atreus. He took everything and kept most of it for himself. Only a small part of his treasure did he distribute among the rest of us! And my own spoils, my beautiful prize, he tore from me. That is why tomorrow at dawn, after I have made sacrifice to Zeus and the other gods, my ships will be moving along the waters of the Hellespont. In three days I hope to be home in Phthia. Agamemnon has cheated me once. He shall not trick me again! Let him be satisfied with what he has. Go and give him my message, but if Phoenix likes he may stay and sail home with me to the land of our fathers.”
In vain Phoenix, his old teacher, tried to shake the resolve of the young hero. Achilles only signed to Patroclus to prepare a bed for his friend. Then Ajax rose and said: “Odysseus, let us go. The cold heart of this man knows no kindness. Friendship does not move him. He is harsh and implacable.” Odysseus too rose from the board, and after pouring a libation to the gods, they left the house of Achilles together with the heralds. Only Phoenix remained behind.
DOLON AND RHESUS
When Odysseus returned with Achilles’ reply, Agamemnon and the princes fell silent. All night long sleep did not touch the lids of the sons of Atreus. Long before daybreak they rose with troubled heart and divided the work between them. Menelaus strode from hut to hut to wake the men and strengthen their courage. But Agamemnon went to the house of Nestor. He found the old man resting on his couch, his armor, shield, helmet, belt, and two lances at his side. He started from sleep, supported his head on his elbow, and called to the son of Atreus: “Who are you, walking alone through the ships at dead of night when others sleep, as though you were looking for a friend, or a mule gone astray? Speak, silent one! What is it you want?”
“Don’t you know me, Nestor?” the son of Atreus said softly. “I am Agamemnon, whom Zeus has plunged into unfathomable grief. I cannot sleep. My heart throbs, and my limbs tremble with fear for the Achaeans. Let us go down to the guards to see if they are awake. For no one can tell if our enemies will not attack this very night.”
Nestor quickly put on his woolen tunic, cast his crimson mantle about him, and accompanied the king on his way through the ships. First they wakened Odysseus who instantly slung his shield over his shoulder and followed them. Then Nestor approached the house of the son of Tydeus, touched his foot with his heel, and woke him with harsh words. “Tireless old man,” the hero answered, still half asleep, “can you never rest? Are there not enough younger men to go through the camp by night and rouse the host? But you are never content to let be.”
“What you say is true and right,” answered Nestor. “I have enough people of my own, not to speak of my sons, who could perform this work for me. But the plight of the Argives is so grave that I myself must do as my heart bids me. Now death and life are balanced on the point of the sword. So rise, and help us waken Ajax and Meges, son of Phyleus.” Instantly Diomedes rose, cast his lion’s skin about his shoulders, and called the heroes Nestor had named. Together they went to look after the guards, but not one was asleep; all were wide-awake, armed, and ready.
Little by little all the princes gathered, and soon the council met. Nestor was first to speak. “How would it be,” he said, “if someone ventured to go to the Trojans and should try to capture one of their men lying asleep at the very edge of the camp, or to eavesdrop at their council to find out whether they intend to remain on the battlefield or return to their city as victors? The man who proves hardy enough to do this should be rewarded with precious gifts.”
When Nestor had ended Diomedes rose and offered to undertake this daring enterprise, provided someone accompanied him. And many were willing: both Ajaces, Meriones, Antilochus, Menelaus, and Odysseus. Then Diomedes said: “If you leave the choice of my companion to me, how can I fail to choose Odysseus, whose heart is steadfast in danger and who is beloved by Pallas Athene? If he goes with me, I think we could escape from fire or flood, for he always finds a way out sooner and better than anyone else.”
“Do not blame or praise me too much,” said Odysseus. “Remember that you are speaking before experienced men. But let us go. The stars have travelled far, and only a third of the night is left.”
Then both girt on their strong armor and disguised themselves. Diomedes left
his own sword and shield on the ship and borrowed the two-edged sword of Thrasymedes, his oxhide shield, and his helmet which had neither a crest of feathers nor plumes of horsehair. And Meriones gave Odysseus his bow, his quiver, a sword, and a helmet of leather topped with the tusks of a boar. Thus equipped, they left the Argive camp and went out into the night. From the right, they heard a heron cry as it flew past, and they rejoiced in the happy omen Pallas Athene had sent them and implored her to favor their undertaking. On they strode through the darkness, over weapons and corpses, through pools of blood, and their courage was like that of two lions.
While the Achaeans were planning to spy on the Trojans, Hector had made the very same proposal in the Trojan council and promised a chariot and two of the best horses from his share of prospective Argive spoils to the man who would undertake to report conditions in the enemy camp. Now among the Trojans was a man named Dolon, son of the herald Eumedes, who was well-known and respected. Dolon had stores of gold and bronze. He was ungainly and slight of build, but a swift runner. His heart leaped at Hector’s words, and at the promise of the finest Argive chariot and horses—those of Achilles—he offered to enter the enemy camp and go to Agamemnon’s ship, there to spy on the council of the Achaeans. Quickly he slung his bow over his shoulder, set on his head his helmet of otterhide, gripped his lance, and jauntily set out on his way. But the path he had chosen took him close to the two Argive heroes who were bound on a similar expedition.
Odysseus heard steps approaching and whispered to his companion: “Diomedes, someone is coming from the Trojan camp! Either he is a spy or he is out to strip the corpses of their armor. Wait until he passes, and then let us pursue and capture him or chase him toward our ships.”
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