Agamemnon and Achilles Quarrel. Achilles Leaves the War and Sends His Mother Thetis to Ask Jove to Help the Trojans. Jove and Juno on Olympus.

Sing, O goddess, the anger of Achilles son of Peleus, that brought countless ills upon the Achaeans. Many a brave soul did it send hurrying down to Hades, and many a hero did it yield a prey to dogs and vultures, for so were the counsels of Jove fulfilled from the day on which the son of Atreus, king of men, and great Achilles, first fell out with one another.

Sing, goddess, of the anger of Achilles, son of Peleus, which brought countless troubles upon the Achaeans. His anger sent many brave souls rushing down to Hades and left many heroes as food for dogs and vultures. In this way, the plans of Jove were fulfilled. It began when the son of Atreus, king of men, and great Achilles first quarreled with each other.

And which of the gods was it that set them on to quarrel? It was the son of Jove and Leto; for he was angry with the king and sent a pestilence upon the host to plague the people, because the son of Atreus had dishonoured Chryses his priest. Now Chryses had come to the ships of the Achaeans to free his daughter, and had brought with him a great ransom: moreover he bore in his hand the sceptre of Apollo wreathed with a suppliant’s wreath, and he besought the Achaeans, but most of all the two sons of Atreus, who were their chiefs.

And which god made them quarrel? It was the son of Jove and Leto. He was angry with the king and sent a plague on the army to make the people suffer. He did so because the son of Atreus had dishonored Chryses, his priest. Now Chryses had come to the Achaean ships to free his daughter, bringing a great ransom. He also carried Apollo’s scepter in his hand, wrapped in a wreath marking him as someone seeking help. He pleaded with the Achaeans, but especially with the two sons of Atreus, their leaders.

“Sons of Atreus,” he cried, “and all other Achaeans, may the gods who dwell in Olympus grant you to sack the city of Priam, and to reach your homes in safety; but free my daughter, and accept a ransom for her, in reverence to Apollo, son of Jove.”

“Sons of Atreus,” he cried, “and all other Achaeans, may the gods who live on Olympus let you conquer and plunder Priam’s city. May you also reach your homes safely. But free my daughter and accept a ransom for her out of respect for Apollo, son of Jove.”

On this the rest of the Achaeans with one voice were for respecting the priest and taking the ransom that he offered; but not so Agamemnon, who spoke fiercely to him and sent him roughly away. “Old man,” said he, “let me not find you tarrying about our ships, nor yet coming hereafter. Your sceptre of the god and your wreath shall profit you nothing. I will not free her. She shall grow old in my house at Argos far from her own home, busying herself with her loom and visiting my couch; so go, and do not provoke me or it shall be the worse for you.”

At this, all the other Achaeans agreed to respect the priest and accept the ransom he offered. But Agamemnon refused. He spoke harshly to the priest and roughly sent him away. “Old man,” he said, “don't let me find you lingering by our ships or coming back here again. Your god's scepter and your wreath will do you no good. I will not free her. She will grow old in my house at Argos, far from her own home. She will work at her loom and share my bed. So go, and don't provoke me, or you will suffer for it.”

The old man feared him and obeyed. Not a word he spoke, but went by the shore of the sounding sea and prayed apart to King Apollo whom lovely Leto had borne. “Hear me,” he cried, “O god of the silver bow, that protectest Chryse and holy Cilla and rulest Tenedos with thy might, hear me oh thou of Sminthe. If I have ever decked your temple with garlands, or burned your thigh-bones in fat of bulls or goats, grant my prayer, and let your arrows avenge these my tears upon the Danaans.”

The old man feared him and obeyed. He said nothing, but walked along the shore of the roaring sea. Alone, he prayed to King Apollo, whom lovely Leto had borne. “Hear me,” he cried, “god of the silver bow. You protect Chryse and holy Cilla and rule Tenedos with your might. Hear me, god of Sminthe. If I have ever decorated your temple with garlands, or burned thigh bones of bulls or goats in fat for you, grant my prayer. Let your arrows avenge my tears upon the Danaans.”

Thus did he pray, and Apollo heard his prayer. He came down furious from the summits of Olympus, with his bow and his quiver upon his shoulder, and the arrows rattled on his back with the rage that trembled within him. He sat himself down away from the ships with a face as dark as night, and his silver bow rang death as he shot his arrow in the midst of them. First he smote their mules and their hounds, but presently he aimed his shafts at the people themselves, and all day long the pyres of the dead were burning.

So he prayed, and Apollo heard his prayer. Furious, Apollo came down from the peaks of Olympus with his bow and quiver on his shoulder. The arrows rattled on his back as rage trembled within him. He sat down some distance from the ships, his face as dark as night. His silver bow rang out with death as he shot an arrow into their midst. First he struck their mules and hounds. But soon he aimed his arrows at the people themselves, and all day long the funeral pyres burned.

For nine whole days he shot his arrows among the people, but upon the tenth day Achilles called them in assembly—moved thereto by Juno, who saw the Achaeans in their death-throes and had compassion upon them. Then, when they were got together, he rose and spoke among them.

For nine whole days he shot his arrows among the people. But on the tenth day, Achilles called them together for an assembly. Juno had urged Achilles to do so, seeing the Achaeans dying and feeling compassion for them. Once the people had gathered, Achilles stood and spoke to them.

“Son of Atreus,” said he, “I deem that we should now turn roving home if we would escape destruction, for we are being cut down by war and pestilence at once. Let us ask some priest or prophet, or some reader of dreams (for dreams, too, are of Jove) who can tell us why Phoebus Apollo is so angry, and say whether it is for some vow that we have broken, or hecatomb that we have not offered, and whether he will accept the savour of lambs and goats without blemish, so as to take away the plague from us.”

“Son of Atreus,” he said, “I think we should now head home if we want to escape destruction. For war and plague are killing us at the same time. Let us ask a priest, a prophet, or someone who interprets dreams (for dreams, too, come from Jove). Let him tell us why Phoebus Apollo is so angry. Is it because we have broken some vow or failed to offer a hecatomb, a sacrifice of a hundred animals? Let him also tell us whether Apollo will accept the scent of lambs and goats without blemish. Will Apollo then lift the plague from us?”

With these words he sat down, and Calchas son of Thestor, wisest of augurs, who knew things past present and to come, rose to speak. He it was who had guided the Achaeans with their fleet to Ilius, through the prophesyings with which Phoebus Apollo had inspired him. With all sincerity and goodwill he addressed them thus:—

After saying this, he sat down. Calchas, son of Thestor and the wisest of augurs, rose to speak. He knew the past, present, and future. He had guided the Achaeans and their fleet to Ilius through prophecies inspired by Phoebus Apollo. With complete sincerity and goodwill, Calchas addressed them:

“Achilles, loved of heaven, you bid me tell you about the anger of King Apollo, I will therefore do so; but consider first and swear that you will stand by me heartily in word and deed, for I know that I shall offend one who rules the Argives with might, to whom all the Achaeans are in subjection. A plain man cannot stand against the anger of a king, who if he swallow his displeasure now, will yet nurse revenge till he has wreaked it. Consider, therefore, whether or no you will protect me.”

“Achilles, loved by heaven, you ask me to explain King Apollo’s anger, so I will. But first, think carefully and swear to support me fully in word and deed. For I know I will offend a man who rules the Argives by force, whom all the Achaeans obey. An ordinary man cannot stand against a king’s anger. Even if the king holds back his anger now, he will still nurse his desire for revenge until he takes it. So think carefully about whether you will protect me.”

And Achilles answered, “Fear not, but speak as it is borne in upon you from heaven, for by Apollo, Calchas, to whom you pray, and whose oracles you reveal to us, not a Danaan at our ships shall lay his hand upon you, while I yet live to look upon the face of the earth—no, not though you name Agamemnon himself, who is by far the foremost of the Achaeans.”

And Achilles answered, “Do not be afraid. Speak what heaven reveals to you. Calchas, I swear by Apollo, to whom you pray and whose prophecies you reveal to us. No Danaan at our ships will lay a hand on you as long as I live on this earth. No, not even if you name Agamemnon himself, who is by far the greatest of the Achaeans.”

Thereon the seer spoke boldly. “The god,” he said, “is angry neither about vow nor hecatomb, but for his priest’s sake, whom Agamemnon has dishonoured, in that he would not free his daughter nor take a ransom for her; therefore has he sent these evils upon us, and will yet send others. He will not deliver the Danaans from this pestilence till Agamemnon has restored the girl without fee or ransom to her father, and has sent a holy hecatomb to Chryse. Thus we may perhaps appease him.”

Then the seer spoke boldly. “The god,” he said, “is not angry about a vow or a hecatomb, a sacrifice of a hundred cattle. He is angry because Agamemnon dishonored his priest by refusing to free the priest’s daughter or accept a ransom. That is why the god has sent these troubles upon us, and he will send more. He will not free the Danaans from this plague until Agamemnon returns the girl to her father without payment or ransom. Agamemnon must also send a sacred hecatomb to Chryse. By doing so, we may perhaps calm the god’s anger.”

With these words he sat down, and Agamemnon rose in anger. His heart was black with rage, and his eyes flashed fire as he scowled on Calchas and said, “Seer of evil, you never yet prophesied smooth things concerning me, but have ever loved to foretell that which was evil. You have brought me neither comfort nor performance; and now you come seeing among Danaans, and saying that Apollo has plagued us because I would not take a ransom for this girl, the daughter of Chryses. I have set my heart on keeping her in my own house, for I love her better even than my own wife Clytemnestra, whose peer she is alike in form and feature, in understanding and accomplishments. Still I will give her up if I must, for I would have the people live, not die; but you must find me a prize instead, or I alone among the Argives shall be without one. This is not well; for you behold, all of you, that my prize is to go elsewhither.”

With these words he sat down, and Agamemnon rose in anger. His heart was dark with rage, and his eyes flashed with fire. He scowled at Calchas and said, “Prophet of evil, you have never predicted anything good for me. You have always loved to predict disaster. You have given me neither comfort nor anything good. And now you prophesy among the Danaans, saying Apollo has sent this plague because I refused a ransom for this girl. She is the daughter of Chryses. I have set my heart on keeping her in my own house. I love her even more than my own wife Clytemnestra. She is Clytemnestra’s equal in body and face, intelligence and skills. Still, I will give her up if I must, because I want the people to live, not die. But you must find me another prize, or I alone among the Argives will have none. That would not be right. For all of you can see that my prize is going elsewhere.”

And Achilles answered, “Most noble son of Atreus, covetous beyond all mankind, how shall the Achaeans find you another prize? We have no common store from which to take one. Those we took from the cities have been awarded; we cannot disallow the awards that have been made already. Give this girl, therefore, to the god, and if ever Jove grants us to sack the city of Troy we will requite you three and fourfold.”

And Achilles answered, “Most noble son of Atreus, greedier than anyone else, how can the Achaeans find you another prize? We have no shared supply to take one from. The prizes we took from the cities have already been awarded. We cannot take back those awards. So give this girl to the god. If Jove ever lets us sack the city of Troy, we will repay you three or four times over.”

Then Agamemnon said, “Achilles, valiant though you be, you shall not thus outwit me. You shall not overreach and you shall not persuade me. Are you to keep your own prize, while I sit tamely under my loss and give up the girl at your bidding? Let the Achaeans find me a prize in fair exchange to my liking, or I will come and take your own, or that of Ajax or of Ulysses; and he to whomsoever I may come shall rue my coming. But of this we will take thought hereafter; for the present, let us draw a ship into the sea, and find a crew for her expressly; let us put a hecatomb on board, and let us send Chryseis also; further, let some chief man among us be in command, either Ajax, or Idomeneus, or yourself, son of Peleus, mighty warrior that you are, that we may offer sacrifice and appease the anger of the god.”

Then Agamemnon said, “Achilles, brave as you are, you will not outwit me like this. You will not take advantage of me, and you will not persuade me. Are you to keep your own prize while I quietly accept my loss and surrender the girl at your command? Let the Achaeans find me a prize I consider a fair exchange. Otherwise, I will come and take yours, or the prize of Ajax or Ulysses. Whoever I come to will regret my coming. But we will consider that matter later. For now, let us launch a ship and choose a crew specifically for the voyage. Let us load a hundred animals for sacrifice aboard, and send Chryseis too. Let one of our leading men command the ship, either Ajax, Idomeneus, or you, son of Peleus. Mighty warrior that you are, you could lead us in offering sacrifice to calm the god’s anger.”

Achilles scowled at him and answered, “You are steeped in insolence and lust of gain. With what heart can any of the Achaeans do your bidding, either on foray or in open fighting? I came not warring here for any ill the Trojans had done me. I have no quarrel with them. They have not raided my cattle nor my horses, nor cut down my harvests on the rich plains of Phthia; for between me and them there is a great space, both mountain and sounding sea. We have followed you, Sir Insolence! for your pleasure, not ours—to gain satisfaction from the Trojans for your shameless self and for Menelaus. You forget this, and threaten to rob me of the prize for which I have toiled, and which the sons of the Achaeans have given me. Never when the Achaeans sack any rich city of the Trojans do I receive so good a prize as you do, though it is my hands that do the better part of the fighting. When the sharing comes, your share is far the largest, and I, forsooth, must go back to my ships, take what I can get and be thankful, when my labour of fighting is done. Now, therefore, I shall go back to Phthia; it will be much better for me to return home with my ships, for I will not stay here dishonoured to gather gold and substance for you.”

Achilles scowled at him and answered, “You are full of arrogance and greed. How can any of the Achaeans willingly obey you, whether on raids or in open battle? I did not come here to fight because the Trojans had wronged me. I have no quarrel with them. They have not stolen my cattle or horses, or destroyed my harvests on the rich plains of Phthia. A vast distance separates us, with mountains and a roaring sea between us. We followed you, Sir Arrogance, for your benefit, not ours. We came to make the Trojans pay for the wrongs done to your shameless self and to Menelaus. “You forget why we came and threaten to take away the prize I worked so hard for. The Achaeans themselves gave me that prize. Whenever the Achaeans sack a rich Trojan city, I never receive as good a prize as you do. Yet my hands do most of the fighting. When the loot is divided, your share is by far the largest. And I, of course, must return to my ships, take what I can get, and be grateful after all my fighting. So now I will go back to Phthia. I would be much better off sailing home with my ships. I will not stay here to be dishonored while gathering gold and wealth for you.”

And Agamemnon answered, “Fly if you will, I shall make you no prayers to stay you. I have others here who will do me honour, and above all Jove, the lord of counsel. There is no king here so hateful to me as you are, for you are ever quarrelsome and ill-affected. What though you be brave? Was it not heaven that made you so? Go home, then, with your ships and comrades to lord it over the Myrmidons. I care neither for you nor for your anger; and thus will I do: since Phoebus Apollo is taking Chryseis from me, I shall send her with my ship and my followers, but I shall come to your tent and take your own prize Briseis, that you may learn how much stronger I am than you are, and that another may fear to set himself up as equal or comparable with me.”

And Agamemnon answered, “Run away if you want. I won’t beg you to stay. I have others here who will honor me, above all Jove, the lord of counsel. No king here is as hateful to me as you are. You are always picking fights and full of hostility. So what if you are brave? Didn’t heaven make you brave? Go home, then, with your ships and comrades, and lord it over the Myrmidons. I care nothing for you or your anger. And here is what I will do: since Phoebus Apollo is taking Chryseis from me, I will send her away with my ship and followers. But I will come to your tent and take Briseis, your own prize. Then you will learn how much stronger I am than you. And others will be afraid to claim they are my equals or even compare themselves to me.”

The son of Peleus was furious, and his heart within his shaggy breast was divided whether to draw his sword, push the others aside, and kill the son of Atreus, or to restrain himself and check his anger. While he was thus in two minds, and was drawing his mighty sword from its scabbard, Minerva came down from heaven (for Juno had sent her in the love she bore to them both), and seized the son of Peleus by his yellow hair, visible to him alone, for of the others no man could see her. Achilles turned in amaze, and by the fire that flashed from her eyes at once knew that she was Minerva. “Why are you here,” said he, “daughter of aegis-bearing Jove? To see the pride of Agamemnon, son of Atreus? Let me tell you—and it shall surely be—he shall pay for this insolence with his life.”

The son of Peleus was furious, his heart torn within his hairy chest. Should he draw his sword, push the others aside, and kill the son of Atreus? Or should he hold himself back and control his anger? While he hesitated and began drawing his mighty sword from its sheath, Minerva came down from heaven. Juno had sent her because she loved both men. Minerva seized the son of Peleus by his blond hair. She was visible only to him. No one else could see her. Achilles turned in amazement. From the fire flashing in her eyes, he immediately recognized Minerva. “Why are you here,” he asked, “daughter of Jove, who carries the aegis? Have you come to see the arrogance of Agamemnon, son of Atreus? Let me tell you, he will pay for this insult with his life. That is certain.”

And Minerva said, “I come from heaven, if you will hear me, to bid you stay your anger. Juno has sent me, who cares for both of you alike. Cease, then, this brawling, and do not draw your sword; rail at him if you will, and your railing will not be vain, for I tell you—and it shall surely be—that you shall hereafter receive gifts three times as splendid by reason of this present insult. Hold, therefore, and obey.”

And Minerva said, “I have come from heaven to tell you to control your anger, if you will listen to me. Juno sent me, and she cares for both of you equally. So stop this quarrel, and do not draw your sword. Insult him if you wish, and your insults will not be wasted. For I tell you, and it will certainly happen, you will later receive gifts three times as splendid because of this insult. So restrain yourself and obey.”

“Goddess,” answered Achilles, “however angry a man may be, he must do as you two command him. This will be best, for the gods ever hear the prayers of him who has obeyed them.”

“Goddess,” Achilles replied, “no matter how angry a man may be, he must do what you two command. Obeying you will be best, because the gods always hear the prayers of those who have obeyed them.”

He stayed his hand on the silver hilt of his sword, and thrust it back into the scabbard as Minerva bade him. Then she went back to Olympus among the other gods, and to the house of aegis-bearing Jove.

He stopped with his hand on his sword’s silver hilt, then pushed the sword back into its scabbard as Minerva commanded. Then Minerva returned to Olympus among the other gods, to the home of Jove, who carried the aegis.

But the son of Peleus again began railing at the son of Atreus, for he was still in a rage. “Wine-bibber,” he cried, “with the face of a dog and the heart of a hind, you never dare to go out with the host in fight, nor yet with our chosen men in ambuscade. You shun this as you do death itself. You had rather go round and rob his prizes from any man who contradicts you. You devour your people, for you are king over a feeble folk; otherwise, son of Atreus, henceforward you would insult no man. Therefore I say, and swear it with a great oath—nay, by this my sceptre which shalt sprout neither leaf nor shoot, nor bud anew from the day on which it left its parent stem upon the mountains—for the axe stripped it of leaf and bark, and now the sons of the Achaeans bear it as judges and guardians of the decrees of heaven—so surely and solemnly do I swear that hereafter they shall look fondly for Achilles and shall not find him. In the day of your distress, when your men fall dying by the murderous hand of Hector, you shall not know how to help them, and shall rend your heart with rage for the hour when you offered insult to the bravest of the Achaeans.”

But the son of Peleus began insulting the son of Atreus again, for he was still furious. “You drunk,” he cried, “with the face of a dog and the heart of a deer! You never dare to join the army in battle or our chosen men in an ambush. You avoid such dangers as you would death itself. You would rather go around stealing prizes from any man who contradicts you. You devour your own people because you rule a weak people. Otherwise, son of Atreus, you would never insult another man. So I swear a mighty oath by this sceptre of mine. This sceptre will never grow another leaf or shoot, or bud again since it left its mountain tree. For the axe stripped away its leaves and bark. Now the sons of the Achaeans carry it as judges and guardians of heaven’s laws. By this sceptre I swear, firmly and solemnly, that the Achaeans will one day long for Achilles and not find him. When disaster comes, and your men fall dying at Hector’s murderous hands, you will not know how to help them. Your heart will tear itself apart with rage because you insulted the bravest of the Achaeans.”

With this the son of Peleus dashed his gold-bestudded sceptre on the ground and took his seat, while the son of Atreus was beginning fiercely from his place upon the other side. Then uprose smooth-tongued Nestor, the facile speaker of the Pylians, and the words fell from his lips sweeter than honey. Two generations of men born and bred in Pylos had passed away under his rule, and he was now reigning over the third. With all sincerity and goodwill, therefore, he addressed them thus:—

With these words, the son of Peleus hurled his gold-studded scepter to the ground and sat down. Meanwhile, the son of Atreus began speaking angrily from his place on the other side. Then Nestor rose, a gifted speaker from Pylos whose words flowed easily, sweeter than honey. Two generations of men born and raised in Pylos had died during his rule. He was now ruling over the third. So, with complete sincerity and goodwill, he spoke to them as follows:

“Of a truth,” he said, “a great sorrow has befallen the Achaean land. Surely Priam with his sons would rejoice, and the Trojans be glad at heart if they could hear this quarrel between you two, who are so excellent in fight and counsel. I am older than either of you; therefore be guided by me. Moreover I have been the familiar friend of men even greater than you are, and they did not disregard my counsels. Never again can I behold such men as Pirithous and Dryas shepherd of his people, or as Caeneus, Exadius, godlike Polyphemus, and Theseus son of Aegeus, peer of the immortals. These were the mightiest men ever born upon this earth: mightiest were they, and when they fought the fiercest tribes of mountain savages they utterly overthrew them. I came from distant Pylos, and went about among them, for they would have me come, and I fought as it was in me to do. Not a man now living could withstand them, but they heard my words, and were persuaded by them. So be it also with yourselves, for this is the more excellent way. Therefore, Agamemnon, though you be strong, take not this girl away, for the sons of the Achaeans have already given her to Achilles; and you, Achilles, strive not further with the king, for no man who by the grace of Jove wields a sceptre has like honour with Agamemnon. You are strong, and have a goddess for your mother; but Agamemnon is stronger than you, for he has more people under him. Son of Atreus, check your anger, I implore you; end this quarrel with Achilles, who in the day of battle is a tower of strength to the Achaeans.”

“Truly,” he said, “a great sorrow has fallen on the Achaean land. Surely Priam and his sons would rejoice, and the Trojans would be glad, if they heard you two quarreling. You are both so skilled in battle and in giving advice. I am older than either of you, so listen to me. I have also been a close friend of men even greater than you, and they did not ignore my advice. Never again will I see men like Pirithous and Dryas, shepherd of his people. Nor will I see men like Caeneus, Exadius, godlike Polyphemus, and Theseus son of Aegeus, equal to the immortals. These were the mightiest men ever born on this earth. They were the mightiest, and when they fought the fiercest tribes of mountain savages, they defeated them completely. I came from distant Pylos and spent time among those men because they wanted me there. I fought as well as I could. No man alive today could stand against them, but they listened to my words and followed my advice. You should do the same, for that is the better course. So, Agamemnon, though you are powerful, do not take this girl away. The sons of the Achaeans have already given her to Achilles. And you, Achilles, stop fighting with the king. No king who rules with a sceptre by the grace of Jove has the same honor as Agamemnon. You are strong, and your mother is a goddess. But Agamemnon is more powerful than you because he rules over more people. Son of Atreus, control your anger, I beg you. End this quarrel with Achilles, who is a tower of strength to the Achaeans in battle.”

And Agamemnon answered, “Sir, all that you have said is true, but this fellow must needs become our lord and master: he must be lord of all, king of all, and captain of all, and this shall hardly be. Granted that the gods have made him a great warrior, have they also given him the right to speak with railing?”

And Agamemnon answered, “Sir, everything you have said is true, but this man insists on becoming our lord and master. He must be lord of all, king of all, and commander of all. But that will hardly happen. Granted, the gods have made him a great warrior. But have the gods also given him the right to hurl insults?”

Achilles interrupted him. “I should be a mean coward,” he cried, “were I to give in to you in all things. Order other people about, not me, for I shall obey no longer. Furthermore I say—and lay my saying to your heart—I shall fight neither you nor any man about this girl, for those that take were those also that gave. But of all else that is at my ship you shall carry away nothing by force. Try, that others may see; if you do, my spear shall be reddened with your blood.”

Achilles interrupted him. “I would be a miserable coward,” he cried, “if I gave in to you in everything. Order other people around, not me, because I will no longer obey you. And I tell you this, so take my words to heart. I will not fight you or anyone else over this girl, because those taking her away also gave her to me. But you will take nothing else from my ship by force. Try, so the others can see. If you do, my spear will be red with your blood.”

When they had quarrelled thus angrily, they rose, and broke up the assembly at the ships of the Achaeans. The son of Peleus went back to his tents and ships with the son of Menoetius and his company, while Agamemnon drew a vessel into the water and chose a crew of twenty oarsmen. He escorted Chryseis on board and sent moreover a hecatomb for the god. And Ulysses went as captain.

After their angry quarrel, they stood up and ended the assembly by the Achaean ships. The son of Peleus returned to his tents and ships with the son of Menoetius and his companions. Meanwhile, Agamemnon launched a ship and chose twenty oarsmen for its crew. He escorted Chryseis aboard and also sent a hecatomb, a sacrifice of a hundred cattle, for the god. Ulysses went as captain.

These, then, went on board and sailed their ways over the sea. But the son of Atreus bade the people purify themselves; so they purified themselves and cast their filth into the sea. Then they offered hecatombs of bulls and goats without blemish on the sea-shore, and the smoke with the savour of their sacrifice rose curling up towards heaven.

The group boarded the ship and sailed away across the sea. But the son of Atreus ordered the people to purify themselves. So the people purified themselves and threw their filth into the sea. Then they offered large sacrifices of bulls and goats without blemish on the shore. The smoke and scent of their sacrifices curled upward toward heaven.

Thus did they busy themselves throughout the host. But Agamemnon did not forget the threat that he had made Achilles, and called his trusty messengers and squires Talthybius and Eurybates. “Go,” said he, “to the tent of Achilles, son of Peleus; take Briseis by the hand and bring her hither; if he will not give her I shall come with others and take her—which will press him harder.”

So they kept busy throughout the army. But Agamemnon had not forgotten the threat he had made against Achilles. He called his trusted messengers and squires, Talthybius and Eurybates. “Go,” he said, “to the tent of Achilles, son of Peleus. Take Briseis by the hand and bring her here. If Achilles refuses to hand her over, I will come with others and take her. That will put even more pressure on him.”

He charged them straightly further and dismissed them, whereon they went their way sorrowfully by the seaside, till they came to the tents and ships of the Myrmidons. They found Achilles sitting by his tent and his ships, and ill-pleased he was when he beheld them. They stood fearfully and reverently before him, and never a word did they speak, but he knew them and said, “Welcome, heralds, messengers of gods and men; draw near; my quarrel is not with you but with Agamemnon who has sent you for the girl Briseis. Therefore, Patroclus, bring her and give her to them, but let them be witnesses by the blessed gods, by mortal men, and by the fierceness of Agamemnon’s anger, that if ever again there be need of me to save the people from ruin, they shall seek and they shall not find. Agamemnon is mad with rage and knows not how to look before and after that the Achaeans may fight by their ships in safety.”

He gave them further strict orders and sent them away. They walked sorrowfully along the shore until they reached the tents and ships of the Myrmidons. They found Achilles sitting beside his tent and ships, and he was displeased to see them. The heralds stood before him in fear and respect, without saying a word. But Achilles knew them and said, “Welcome, heralds, messengers of gods and men. Come closer. My quarrel is not with you but with Agamemnon, who sent you to fetch the girl Briseis. So, Patroclus, bring her here and hand her over to them. But let these heralds be witnesses before the blessed gods, before mortal men, and before Agamemnon in his fierce anger. If ever again I am needed to save the people from ruin, they will seek me and not find me. Agamemnon is mad with rage. He cannot look ahead or consider the past so that the Achaeans can fight safely beside their ships.”

Patroclus did as his dear comrade had bidden him. He brought Briseis from the tent and gave her over to the heralds, who took her with them to the ships of the Achaeans—and the woman was loth to go. Then Achilles went all alone by the side of the hoar sea, weeping and looking out upon the boundless waste of waters. He raised his hands in prayer to his immortal mother, “Mother,” he cried, “you bore me doomed to live but for a little season; surely Jove, who thunders from Olympus, might have made that little glorious. It is not so. Agamemnon, son of Atreus, has done me dishonour, and has robbed me of my prize by force.”

Patroclus did as his dear friend had asked. He brought Briseis out of the tent and handed her over to the heralds. They took her with them to the ships of the Achaeans, but she was unwilling to go. Then Achilles went all alone to the gray sea’s edge, weeping and gazing across the endless water. He raised his hands in prayer to his immortal mother. “Mother,” he cried, “you gave birth to me knowing I was doomed to a short life. Surely Jove, who thunders from Olympus, might have made my brief life glorious. But he has not. Agamemnon, son of Atreus, has dishonored me and taken my prize by force.”

As he spoke he wept aloud, and his mother heard him where she was sitting in the depths of the sea hard by the old man her father. Forthwith she rose as it were a grey mist out of the waves, sat down before him as he stood weeping, caressed him with her hand, and said, “My son, why are you weeping? What is it that grieves you? Keep it not from me, but tell me, that we may know it together.”

As he spoke, he wept aloud. His mother heard him from the depths of the sea, where she sat beside her elderly father. At once she rose from the waves like a gray mist and sat before him as he stood weeping. She gently stroked him with her hand and said, “My son, why are you weeping? What is troubling you? Don’t hide your sorrow from me. Tell me, so we can both know what troubles you.”

Achilles drew a deep sigh and said, “You know it; why tell you what you know well already? We went to Thebe the strong city of Eetion, sacked it, and brought hither the spoil. The sons of the Achaeans shared it duly among themselves, and chose lovely Chryseis as the meed of Agamemnon; but Chryses, priest of Apollo, came to the ships of the Achaeans to free his daughter, and brought with him a great ransom: moreover he bore in his hand the sceptre of Apollo, wreathed with a suppliant’s wreath, and he besought the Achaeans, but most of all the two sons of Atreus who were their chiefs.

Achilles sighed deeply and said, “You already know. Why tell you what you know so well? We went to Thebe, Eetion’s fortified city, sacked it, and brought the plunder here. The Achaeans divided the plunder fairly among themselves and chose lovely Chryseis as Agamemnon’s prize. But Chryses, Apollo’s priest, came to the Achaean ships to free his daughter, bringing a large ransom. He also carried Apollo’s sceptre, wrapped in a wreath as a sign of his plea. He begged the Achaeans, especially the two sons of Atreus, who were their leaders.

“On this the rest of the Achaeans with one voice were for respecting the priest and taking the ransom that he offered; but not so Agamemnon, who spoke fiercely to him and sent him roughly away. So he went back in anger, and Apollo, who loved him dearly, heard his prayer. Then the god sent a deadly dart upon the Argives, and the people died thick on one another, for the arrows went everywhither among the wide host of the Achaeans. At last a seer in the fulness of his knowledge declared to us the oracles of Apollo, and I was myself first to say that we should appease him. Whereon the son of Atreus rose in anger, and threatened that which he has since done. The Achaeans are now taking the girl in a ship to Chryse, and sending gifts of sacrifice to the god; but the heralds have just taken from my tent the daughter of Briseus, whom the Achaeans had awarded to myself.

“All the other Achaeans agreed that we should respect the priest and accept the ransom he offered. But Agamemnon spoke harshly to him and roughly sent him away. So the priest went back in anger, and Apollo, who loved him dearly, heard his prayer. Then the god fired a deadly arrow at the Argives, and people died in heaps. For the arrows flew everywhere through the vast army of the Achaeans. At last, a seer drew on his deep knowledge and told us what Apollo’s oracles meant. I was the first to say we should appease Apollo. Then the son of Atreus rose in anger and threatened to do what he has now done. The Achaeans are now taking the girl to Chryse by ship and sending sacrificial offerings to the god. But the heralds have just taken the daughter of Briseus from my tent. The Achaeans had awarded her to me.”

“Help your brave son, therefore, if you are able. Go to Olympus, and if you have ever done him service in word or deed, implore the aid of Jove. Ofttimes in my father’s house have I heard you glory in that you alone of the immortals saved the son of Saturn from ruin, when the others, with Juno, Neptune, and Pallas Minerva would have put him in bonds. It was you, goddess, who delivered him by calling to Olympus the hundred-handed monster whom gods call Briareus, but men Aegaeon, for he is stronger even than his father; when therefore he took his seat all-glorious beside the son of Saturn, the other gods were afraid, and did not bind him. Go, then, to him, remind him of all this, clasp his knees, and bid him give succour to the Trojans. Let the Achaeans be hemmed in at the sterns of their ships, and perish on the sea-shore, that they may reap what joy they may of their king, and that Agamemnon may rue his blindness in offering insult to the foremost of the Achaeans.”

“So help your brave son, if you can. Go to Olympus. If you have ever served Jove in word or deed, beg him for help. In my father’s house, I often heard you boast that you alone among the immortals saved the son of Saturn. The other gods, including Juno, Neptune, and Pallas Minerva, wanted to bind him. You, goddess, saved him by calling the hundred-handed monster to Olympus. The gods call him Briareus, but men call him Aegaeon, for he is stronger even than his father. When he sat in all his glory beside the son of Saturn, the other gods were afraid. So they did not bind the son of Saturn. Go to Jove, then, and remind him of all you did. Clasp his knees and ask him to help the Trojans. Let the Achaeans be trapped at the sterns of their ships and die on the shore. Then let them enjoy whatever joy their king brings them. And let Agamemnon regret his blindness in insulting the greatest of the Achaeans.”

Thetis wept and answered, “My son, woe is me that I should have borne or suckled you. Would indeed that you had lived your span free from all sorrow at your ships, for it is all too brief; alas, that you should be at once short of life and long of sorrow above your peers: woe, therefore, was the hour in which I bore you; nevertheless I will go to the snowy heights of Olympus, and tell this tale to Jove, if he will hear our prayer: meanwhile stay where you are with your ships, nurse your anger against the Achaeans, and hold aloof from fight. For Jove went yesterday to Oceanus, to a feast among the Ethiopians, and the other gods went with him. He will return to Olympus twelve days hence; I will then go to his mansion paved with bronze and will beseech him; nor do I doubt that I shall be able to persuade him.”

Thetis wept and answered, “My son, how sad I am to have given birth to you and nursed you. I wish you could have lived your life without any sorrow beside your ships, for your life is far too short. Alas, your life is short, yet your sorrow is greater than that of all your companions. So the hour when I gave birth to you was a sorrowful one. Still, I will go to the snowy heights of Olympus and tell Jove your story, if he will hear our prayer. Meanwhile, stay here with your ships, hold on to your anger against the Achaeans, and keep out of the fighting. For Jove went yesterday to Oceanus, to a feast among the Ethiopians, and the other gods went with him. He will return to Olympus twelve days from now. Then I will go to his home with its bronze floors and plead with him. I have no doubt I can persuade him.”

On this she left him, still furious at the loss of her that had been taken from him. Meanwhile Ulysses reached Chryse with the hecatomb. When they had come inside the harbour they furled the sails and laid them in the ship’s hold; they slackened the forestays, lowered the mast into its place, and rowed the ship to the place where they would have her lie; there they cast out their mooring-stones and made fast the hawsers. They then got out upon the sea-shore and landed the hecatomb for Apollo; Chryseis also left the ship, and Ulysses led her to the altar to deliver her into the hands of her father. “Chryses,” said he, “King Agamemnon has sent me to bring you back your child, and to offer sacrifice to Apollo on behalf of the Danaans, that we may propitiate the god, who has now brought sorrow upon the Argives.”

With that, she left him, still furious at the loss of the woman who had been taken from him. Meanwhile, Ulysses reached Chryse with the animals for the sacrifice. Once inside the harbour, the crew folded the sails and stored them in the ship’s hold. They loosened the ropes supporting the mast, lowered it into place, and rowed the ship to its mooring. There they dropped their stone anchors and secured the mooring ropes. Then they went ashore and unloaded the animals for the sacrifice to Apollo. Chryseis also left the ship, and Ulysses led her to the altar to return her to her father. “Chryses,” he said, “King Agamemnon has sent me to bring back your child and offer a sacrifice to Apollo. We offer it on behalf of the Danaans to appease the god, who has now brought sorrow upon the Argives.”

So saying he gave the girl over to her father, who received her gladly, and they ranged the holy hecatomb all orderly round the altar of the god. They washed their hands and took up the barley-meal to sprinkle over the victims, while Chryses lifted up his hands and prayed aloud on their behalf. “Hear me,” he cried, “O god of the silver bow, that protectest Chryse and holy Cilla, and rulest Tenedos with thy might. Even as thou didst hear me aforetime when I prayed, and didst press hardly upon the Achaeans, so hear me yet again, and stay this fearful pestilence from the Danaans.”

With these words, he handed the girl over to her father, who gladly received her. They arranged all the animals for the sacred sacrifice in order around the god’s altar. They washed their hands and took up barley meal to sprinkle over the sacrificial animals. Meanwhile, Chryses raised his hands and prayed aloud on their behalf. “Hear me,” he cried, “god of the silver bow, who protects Chryse and holy Cilla and rules Tenedos with your might. Just as you heard my earlier prayer and brought suffering on the Achaeans, hear me once again. Stop this terrible plague from afflicting the Danaans.”

Thus did he pray, and Apollo heard his prayer. When they had done praying and sprinkling the barley-meal, they drew back the heads of the victims and killed and flayed them. They cut out the thigh-bones, wrapped them round in two layers of fat, set some pieces of raw meat on the top of them, and then Chryses laid them on the wood fire and poured wine over them, while the young men stood near him with five-pronged spits in their hands. When the thigh-bones were burned and they had tasted the inward meats, they cut the rest up small, put the pieces upon the spits, roasted them till they were done, and drew them off: then, when they had finished their work and the feast was ready, they ate it, and every man had his full share, so that all were satisfied. As soon as they had had enough to eat and drink, pages filled the mixing-bowl with wine and water and handed it round, after giving every man his drink-offering.

So he prayed, and Apollo heard his prayer. After the men finished praying and sprinkling the barley meal, they pulled back the sacrificial animals’ heads. They killed and skinned the animals. They cut out the thigh bones, wrapped them in two layers of fat, and placed some raw meat on top. Then Chryses laid the thigh bones on the wood fire and poured wine over them. The young men stood nearby, holding five-pronged spits. Once the thigh bones had burned and the men had tasted the internal organs, they cut the remaining meat into small pieces. They put the pieces on the spits, roasted the meat until done, and pulled it off. Then, with their work finished and the feast ready, they ate. Every man received his full share, so that all were satisfied. As soon as the men had eaten and drunk enough, young attendants filled the mixing bowl with wine and water. The attendants first gave every man his portion for a drink offering, then passed the wine around.

Thus all day long the young men worshipped the god with song, hymning him and chaunting the joyous paean, and the god took pleasure in their voices; but when the sun went down, and it came on dark, they laid themselves down to sleep by the stern cables of the ship, and when the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared they again set sail for the host of the Achaeans. Apollo sent them a fair wind, so they raised their mast and hoisted their white sails aloft. As the sail bellied with the wind the ship flew through the deep blue water, and the foam hissed against her bows as she sped onward. When they reached the wide-stretching host of the Achaeans, they drew the vessel ashore, high and dry upon the sands, set her strong props beneath her, and went their ways to their own tents and ships.

So all day long the young men worshipped the god with songs of praise and a joyful paean. The god took pleasure in their voices. But when the sun went down and darkness fell, the men lay down to sleep beside the ship’s stern ropes. When rosy-fingered Dawn, the child of morning, appeared, they set sail again for the Achaean army. Apollo sent them a favorable wind, so they raised the mast and hoisted the white sails. As the sail filled with wind, the ship flew through the deep blue water. Foam hissed against the bow as the ship sped onward. When the men reached the sprawling Achaean army, they pulled the ship ashore, high and dry on the sand. They placed sturdy supports beneath the ship, then returned to their own tents and ships.

But Achilles abode at his ships and nursed his anger. He went not to the honourable assembly, and sallied not forth to fight, but gnawed at his own heart, pining for battle and the war-cry.

But Achilles stayed by his ships and brooded over his anger. He did not attend the honored assembly or go out to fight. Instead, he tormented himself, longing for battle and the war cry.

Now after twelve days the immortal gods came back in a body to Olympus, and Jove led the way. Thetis was not unmindful of the charge her son had laid upon her, so she rose from under the sea and went through great heaven with early morning to Olympus, where she found the mighty son of Saturn sitting all alone upon its topmost ridges. She sat herself down before him, and with her left hand seized his knees, while with her right she caught him under the chin, and besought him, saying:—

After twelve days, the immortal gods returned together to Olympus, with Jove leading the way. Thetis had not forgotten the task her son had given her. So, early in the morning, she rose from beneath the sea and traveled through the vast heavens to Olympus. There she found the mighty son of Saturn sitting all alone on the mountain’s highest ridges. She sat down before him and grasped his knees with her left hand. With her right hand, she held him under the chin and pleaded with him, saying:

“Father Jove, if I ever did you service in word or deed among the immortals, hear my prayer, and do honour to my son, whose life is to be cut short so early. King Agamemnon has dishonoured him by taking his prize and keeping her. Honour him then yourself, Olympian lord of counsel, and grant victory to the Trojans, till the Achaeans give my son his due and load him with riches in requital.”

“Father Jove, if I ever served you in word or deed among the immortals, hear my prayer. Give honour to my son, whose life will be cut short so early. King Agamemnon has dishonoured him by taking the woman he won as a prize and keeping her. So honour my son yourself, Olympian lord of wise counsel. Grant victory to the Trojans until the Achaeans give my son his due and repay him with great riches.”

Jove sat for a while silent, and without a word, but Thetis still kept firm hold of his knees, and besought him a second time. “Incline your head,” said she, “and promise me surely, or else deny me—for you have nothing to fear—that I may learn how greatly you disdain me.”

Jove sat in silence for a while, but Thetis kept a firm hold on his knees and pleaded again. “Nod your head,” she said, “and give me a firm promise, or refuse me, since you have nothing to fear. Then I may know how much you look down on me.”

At this Jove was much troubled and answered, “I shall have trouble if you set me quarrelling with Juno, for she will provoke me with her taunting speeches; even now she is always railing at me before the other gods and accusing me of giving aid to the Trojans. Go back now, lest she should find out. I will consider the matter, and will bring it about as you wish. See, I incline my head that you may believe me. This is the most solemn promise that I can give to any god. I never recall my word, or deceive, or fail to do what I say, when I have nodded my head.”

Jove was deeply troubled by this and answered, “I will have trouble if you make me quarrel with Juno. She will provoke me with her taunts. Even now, she is always speaking angrily against me before the other gods and accusing me of helping the Trojans. Go back now, so she does not find out. I will consider the matter and make it happen as you wish. Look, I am nodding my head so you can believe me. This nod is the most solemn promise I can give any god. When I have nodded my head, I never take back my word, deceive anyone, or fail to do what I say.”

As he spoke the son of Saturn bowed his dark brows, and the ambrosial locks swayed on his immortal head, till vast Olympus reeled.

As he spoke, the son of Saturn lowered his dark brows. His divine hair swayed on his immortal head until vast Olympus shook.

When the pair had thus laid their plans, they parted—Jove to his house, while the goddess quitted the splendour of Olympus, and plunged into the depths of the sea. The gods rose from their seats, before the coming of their sire. Not one of them dared to remain sitting, but all stood up as he came among them. There, then, he took his seat. But Juno, when she saw him, knew that he and the old merman’s daughter, silver-footed Thetis, had been hatching mischief, so she at once began to upbraid him. “Trickster,” she cried, “which of the gods have you been taking into your counsels now? You are always settling matters in secret behind my back, and have never yet told me, if you could help it, one word of your intentions.”

Once the two had made their plans, they parted. Jove went to his house, while the goddess left the splendor of Olympus and plunged into the sea’s depths. The gods rose from their seats as their father approached. Not one dared to stay seated, but all stood as he came among them. Then he took his seat. But when Juno saw him, she knew he and silver-footed Thetis, the old merman’s daughter, had been plotting mischief. So she immediately began to scold him. “Trickster,” she cried, “which of the gods have you been consulting now? You are always making decisions in secret behind my back. You have never told me a single word about your plans if you could avoid it.”

“Juno,” replied the sire of gods and men, “you must not expect to be informed of all my counsels. You are my wife, but you would find it hard to understand them. When it is proper for you to hear, there is no one, god or man, who will be told sooner, but when I mean to keep a matter to myself, you must not pry nor ask questions.”

“Juno,” replied the father of gods and men, “you must not expect to know all my plans. You are my wife, but you would find my plans hard to understand. When it is right for you to hear them, no one, god or man, will be told before you. But when I intend to keep something to myself, you must not pry or ask questions.”

“Dread son of Saturn,” answered Juno, “what are you talking about? I? Pry and ask questions? Never. I let you have your own way in everything. Still, I have a strong misgiving that the old merman’s daughter Thetis has been talking you over, for she was with you and had hold of your knees this self-same morning. I believe, therefore, that you have been promising her to give glory to Achilles, and to kill much people at the ships of the Achaeans.”

“Fearsome son of Saturn,” Juno answered, “what are you talking about? Me? Pry and ask questions? Never. I let you have your way in everything. Still, I strongly suspect that Thetis, the old sea god’s daughter, has been winning you over. After all, she was with you just this morning, holding your knees. So I believe you have been promising her to bring glory to Achilles. I believe you have also promised her to kill many people at the ships of the Achaeans.”

“Wife,” said Jove, “I can do nothing but you suspect me and find it out. You will take nothing by it, for I shall only dislike you the more, and it will go harder with you. Granted that it is as you say; I mean to have it so; sit down and hold your tongue as I bid you for if I once begin to lay my hands about you, though all heaven were on your side it would profit you nothing.”

“Wife,” said Jove, “I can do nothing without you suspecting me and finding out. You will gain nothing from it. I will only dislike you more, and you will suffer more for it. Even if things are as you say, I intend them to be that way. Sit down and keep quiet, as I order you. For if I start beating you, even all heaven taking your side would do you no good.”

On this Juno was frightened, so she curbed her stubborn will and sat down in silence. But the heavenly beings were disquieted throughout the house of Jove, till the cunning workman Vulcan began to try and pacify his mother Juno. “It will be intolerable,” said he, “if you two fall to wrangling and setting heaven in an uproar about a pack of mortals. If such ill counsels are to prevail, we shall have no pleasure at our banquet. Let me then advise my mother—and she must herself know that it will be better—to make friends with my dear father Jove, lest he again scold her and disturb our feast. If the Olympian Thunderer wants to hurl us all from our seats, he can do so, for he is far the strongest, so give him fair words, and he will then soon be in a good humour with us.”

At this, Juno grew frightened, so she held back her stubborn will and sat down in silence. But the gods throughout the house of Jove were uneasy until Vulcan, the skilled craftsman, tried to calm his mother Juno. “It will be unbearable,” he said, “if you two start quarreling and throw heaven into an uproar over a pack of mortals. If such bad judgment prevails, we will have no pleasure at our banquet. So let me advise my mother to make peace with my dear father Jove. She herself must know that making peace will be better. Otherwise, he may scold her again and disrupt our feast. If the Olympian Thunderer wants to throw us all from our seats, he can, because he is by far the strongest. So speak kindly to him, and he will soon be in a good mood with us.”

As he spoke, he took a double cup of nectar, and placed it in his mother’s hand. “Cheer up, my dear mother,” said he, “and make the best of it. I love you dearly, and should be very sorry to see you get a thrashing; however grieved I might be, I could not help, for there is no standing against Jove. Once before when I was trying to help you, he caught me by the foot and flung me from the heavenly threshold. All day long from morn till eve, was I falling, till at sunset I came to ground in the island of Lemnos, and there I lay, with very little life left in me, till the Sintians came and tended me.”

As he spoke, he took a double cup of nectar and placed it in his mother’s hand. “Cheer up, my dear mother,” he said, “and make the best of things. I love you dearly, and I would hate to see you beaten. But however upset I might be, I could not help you, because no one can stand against Jove. Once before, when I tried to help you, he grabbed me by the foot and threw me from heaven’s threshold. I fell all day long, from morning until evening, and landed on the island of Lemnos at sunset. I lay there with barely any life left in me, until the Sintians came and cared for me.”

Juno smiled at this, and as she smiled she took the cup from her son’s hands. Then Vulcan drew sweet nectar from the mixing-bowl, and served it round among the gods, going from left to right; and the blessed gods laughed out a loud applause as they saw him bustling about the heavenly mansion.

Juno smiled at this and took the cup from her son’s hands as she smiled. Then Vulcan poured sweet nectar from the mixing bowl and served the gods, moving from left to right. The blessed gods laughed loudly in approval as they watched him bustle around the heavenly mansion.

Thus through the livelong day to the going down of the sun they feasted, and every one had his full share, so that all were satisfied. Apollo struck his lyre, and the Muses lifted up their sweet voices, calling and answering one another. But when the sun’s glorious light had faded, they went home to bed, each in his own abode, which lame Vulcan with his consummate skill had fashioned for them. So Jove, the Olympian Lord of Thunder, hied him to the bed in which he always slept; and when he had got on to it he went to sleep, with Juno of the golden throne by his side.

So they feasted all day until sunset, and everyone had a full share, so that all were satisfied. Apollo played his lyre, and the Muses raised their sweet voices, calling and answering one another. But when the sun’s glorious light had faded, they went home to bed, each to their own home. Vulcan, who walked with a limp, had built these homes for them with his unmatched skill. So Jove, the Olympian Lord of Thunder, hurried to the bed where he always slept. Once he had climbed into bed, he fell asleep with Juno of the golden throne beside him.