Glaucus and Diomed, Bellerophon’s Story, Hector and Andromache

The fight between Trojans and Achaeans was now left to rage as it would, and the tide of war surged hither and thither over the plain as they aimed their bronze-shod spears at one another between the streams of Simois and Xanthus.

The battle between Trojans and Achaeans was now left to rage on its own. The tide of war swept back and forth across the plain between the streams of Simois and Xanthus. There, the warriors aimed their bronze-tipped spears at one another.

First, Ajax son of Telamon, tower of strength to the Achaeans, broke a phalanx of the Trojans, and came to the assistance of his comrades by killing Acamas son of Eussorus, the best man among the Thracians, being both brave and of great stature. The spear struck the projecting peak of his helmet: its bronze point then went through his forehead into the brain, and darkness veiled his eyes.

First, Ajax son of Telamon, a pillar of strength for the Achaeans, broke through a formation of Trojan soldiers. He came to his comrades’ aid by killing Acamas son of Eussorus, the finest warrior among the Thracians. Acamas was both brave and very tall. The spear struck the jutting peak of his helmet. Its bronze tip then pierced his forehead and entered his brain, and darkness covered his eyes.

Then Diomed killed Axylus son of Teuthranus, a rich man who lived in the strong city of Arisbe, and was beloved by all men; for he had a house by the roadside, and entertained every one who passed; howbeit not one of his guests stood before him to save his life, and Diomed killed both him and his squire Calesius, who was then his charioteer—so the pair passed beneath the earth.

Then Diomed killed Axylus, son of Teuthranus, a rich man who lived in the fortified city of Arisbe. All men loved Axylus because his house stood beside the road, and he welcomed everyone who passed. Yet not one of his guests stood in front of him to save his life. Diomed killed both Axylus and his squire Calesius, who was driving his chariot at the time. So the two passed beneath the earth.

Euryalus killed Dresus and Opheltius, and then went in pursuit of Aesepus and Pedasus, whom the naiad nymph Abarbarea had borne to noble Bucolion. Bucolion was eldest son to Laomedon, but he was a bastard. While tending his sheep he had converse with the nymph, and she conceived twin sons; these the son of Mecisteus now slew, and he stripped the armour from their shoulders. Polypoetes then killed Astyalus, Ulysses Pidytes of Percote, and Teucer Aretaon. Ablerus fell by the spear of Nestor’s son Antilochus, and Agamemnon, king of men, killed Elatus who dwelt in Pedasus by the banks of the river Satnioeis. Leitus killed Phylacus as he was flying, and Eurypylus slew Melanthus.

Euryalus killed Dresus and Opheltius, then chased Aesepus and Pedasus. The naiad nymph Abarbarea had borne these sons to noble Bucolion. Bucolion was Laomedon’s eldest son, but he was born outside marriage. While tending his sheep, Bucolion slept with the nymph, and she conceived twin sons. Euryalus, the son of Mecisteus, now killed these twins and stripped the armour from their shoulders. Polypoetes then killed Astyalus, Ulysses killed Pidytes of Percote, and Teucer killed Aretaon. Ablerus fell to the spear of Nestor’s son Antilochus. Agamemnon, king of men, killed Elatus, who lived in Pedasus on the banks of the river Satnioeis. Leitus killed Phylacus as Phylacus fled, and Eurypylus killed Melanthus.

Then Menelaus of the loud war-cry took Adrestus alive, for his horses ran into a tamarisk bush, as they were flying wildly over the plain, and broke the pole from the car; they went on towards the city along with the others in full flight, but Adrestus rolled out, and fell in the dust flat on his face by the wheel of his chariot; Menelaus came up to him spear in hand, but Adrestus caught him by the knees begging for his life. “Take me alive,” he cried, “son of Atreus, and you shall have a full ransom for me: my father is rich and has much treasure of gold, bronze, and wrought iron laid by in his house. From this store he will give you a large ransom should he hear of my being alive and at the ships of the Achaeans.”

Then Menelaus, known for his loud war cry, captured Adrestus alive. Adrestus’s horses had crashed into a tamarisk bush as they raced wildly across the plain, breaking the chariot’s pole. The horses kept running toward the city with the others in full retreat. But Adrestus tumbled out and landed face down in the dust beside his chariot’s wheel. Menelaus approached with his spear in hand, but Adrestus clung to his knees and begged for his life. “Take me alive,” he cried, “son of Atreus, and you will receive a generous ransom for me. My father is rich and has great stores of gold, bronze, and worked iron in his house. He will pay you a large ransom from those stores if he hears I am alive at the Achaeans’ ships.”

Thus did he plead, and Menelaus was for yielding and giving him to a squire to take to the ships of the Achaeans, but Agamemnon came running up to him and rebuked him. “My good Menelaus,” said he, “this is no time for giving quarter. Has, then, your house fared so well at the hands of the Trojans? Let us not spare a single one of them—not even the child unborn and in its mother’s womb; let not a man of them be left alive, but let all in Ilius perish, unheeded and forgotten.”

That was his plea, and Menelaus was ready to spare him. He would hand him over to an attendant to take to the ships of the Achaeans. But Agamemnon came running up and scolded Menelaus. “My good Menelaus,” he said, “now is no time to spare lives. Have the Trojans treated your household so well? Let us not spare a single one of them, not even an unborn child in its mother’s womb. Let none of them be left alive. Let everyone in Ilius die, with no one to care or remember them.”

Thus did he speak, and his brother was persuaded by him, for his words were just. Menelaus, therefore, thrust Adrestus from him, whereon King Agamemnon struck him in the flank, and he fell: then the son of Atreus planted his foot upon his breast to draw his spear from the body.

He spoke, and his brother was persuaded because his words were just. So Menelaus pushed Adrestus away. Then King Agamemnon struck Adrestus in the side, and Adrestus fell. The son of Atreus then planted his foot on Adrestus's chest to pull his spear from the body.

Meanwhile Nestor shouted to the Argives, saying, “My friends, Danaan warriors, servants of Mars, let no man lag that he may spoil the dead, and bring back much booty to the ships. Let us kill as many as we can; the bodies will lie upon the plain, and you can despoil them later at your leisure.”

Meanwhile Nestor shouted to the Argives, “My friends, Danaan warriors, servants of Mars, no one should fall behind to loot the dead and carry riches back to the ships. Let us kill as many as we can. The bodies will lie on the plain, and you can loot them later at your leisure.”

With these words he put heart and soul into them all. And now the Trojans would have been routed and driven back into Ilius, had not Priam’s son Helenus, wisest of augurs, said to Hector and Aeneas, “Hector and Aeneas, you two are the mainstays of the Trojans and Lycians, for you are foremost at all times, alike in fight and counsel; hold your ground here, and go about among the host to rally them in front of the gates, or they will fling themselves into the arms of their wives, to the great joy of our foes. Then, when you have put heart into all our companies, we will stand firm here and fight the Danaans however hard they press us, for there is nothing else to be done. Meanwhile do you, Hector, go to the city and tell our mother what is happening. Tell her to bid the matrons gather at the temple of Minerva in the acropolis; let her then take her key and open the doors of the sacred building; there, upon the knees of Minerva, let her lay the largest, fairest robe she has in her house—the one she sets most store by; let her, moreover, promise to sacrifice twelve yearling heifers that have never yet felt the goad, in the temple of the goddess, if she will take pity on the town, with the wives and little ones of the Trojans, and keep the son of Tydeus from falling on the goodly city of Ilius; for he fights with fury and fills men’s souls with panic. I hold him mightiest of them all; we did not fear even their great champion Achilles, son of a goddess though he be, as we do this man: his rage is beyond all bounds, and there is none can vie with him in prowess.”

His words filled them all with courage and determination. The Trojans would now have been defeated and driven back into Ilius. But Priam’s son Helenus, the wisest interpreter of omens, spoke to Hector and Aeneas, “Hector and Aeneas, you two are the pillars of the Trojans and Lycians. You always lead the way, both in battle and in council. Hold your ground here and move among the troops to rally them in front of the gates. Otherwise, the men will throw themselves into their wives’ arms, much to our enemies’ delight. Once you have given all our companies courage, we will stand firm here and fight the Danaans. We will fight however hard they press us, for there is nothing else we can do. “Meanwhile, Hector, go to the city and tell our mother what is happening. Tell her to gather the married women at the temple of Minerva in the acropolis. Then she should take her key and open the doors of the sacred building. There she should lay the largest, most beautiful robe in her house on Minerva’s knees. She should choose the robe she treasures most. She should also promise to sacrifice twelve yearling heifers in the goddess’s temple, none ever driven with a goad. She should promise this if Minerva will pity the town, the Trojans’ wives, and their little children. Minerva must also keep the son of Tydeus from attacking the splendid city of Ilius. For he fights with fury and fills men’s hearts with terror. I consider him the mightiest of them all. We did not fear even their great champion Achilles, though he is a goddess’s son, as much as this man. His rage has no limits, and no one can match his skill in battle.”

Hector did as his brother bade him. He sprang from his chariot, and went about everywhere among the host, brandishing his spears, urging the men on to fight, and raising the dread cry of battle. Thereon they rallied and again faced the Achaeans, who gave ground and ceased their murderous onset, for they deemed that some one of the immortals had come down from starry heaven to help the Trojans, so strangely had they rallied. And Hector shouted to the Trojans, “Trojans and allies, be men, my friends, and fight with might and main, while I go to Ilius and tell the old men of our council and our wives to pray to the gods and vow hecatombs in their honour.”

Hector did as his brother told him. He leaped from his chariot and moved throughout the army, waving his spears. He urged the men to fight and raised a fearsome battle cry. At this, the Trojans rallied and turned to face the Achaeans again. The Achaeans fell back and stopped their deadly attack. They believed one of the immortals had come down from starry heaven to help the Trojans. So remarkable was the Trojans’ recovery. Hector shouted to the Trojans, “Trojans and allies, be brave, my friends, and fight with all your strength. Meanwhile, I will go to Ilius and speak to the elders of our council and our wives. I will tell them to pray to the gods and promise sacrifices of a hundred cattle in their honor.”

With this he went his way, and the black rim of hide that went round his shield beat against his neck and his ancles.

With that, he went on his way. The black leather rim around his shield struck his neck and ankles as he walked.

Then Glaucus son of Hippolochus, and the son of Tydeus went into the open space between the hosts to fight in single combat. When they were close up to one another Diomed of the loud war-cry was the first to speak. “Who, my good sir,” said he, “who are you among men? I have never seen you in battle until now, but you are daring beyond all others if you abide my onset. Woe to those fathers whose sons face my might. If, however, you are one of the immortals and have come down from heaven, I will not fight you; for even valiant Lycurgus, son of Dryas, did not live long when he took to fighting with the gods. He it was that drove the nursing women who were in charge of frenzied Bacchus through the land of Nysa, and they flung their thyrsi on the ground as murderous Lycurgus beat them with his oxgoad. Bacchus himself plunged terror-stricken into the sea, and Thetis took him to her bosom to comfort him, for he was scared by the fury with which the man reviled him. Thereon the gods who live at ease were angry with Lycurgus and the son of Saturn struck him blind, nor did he live much longer after he had become hateful to the immortals. Therefore I will not fight with the blessed gods; but if you are of them that eat the fruit of the ground, draw near and meet your doom.”

Then Glaucus, son of Hippolochus, and the son of Tydeus entered the open space between the armies to fight one-on-one. When they came close, Diomed, known for his loud war cry, spoke first. “Who, my good sir,” he said, “are you? I have never seen you in battle before now. But you are braver than all others if you stand your ground against my attack. Grief awaits the fathers whose sons face my strength. If, however, you are one of the immortals and have come down from heaven, I will not fight you. For even brave Lycurgus, son of Dryas, did not live long after he began fighting the gods. “He drove the women nursing frenzied Bacchus through the land of Nysa. The women threw their thyrsi to the ground as murderous Lycurgus beat them with his oxgoad. Bacchus himself plunged into the sea in terror. Thetis held him to her breast to comfort him, for the fury of Lycurgus’s insults had frightened him. Then the gods, who live at ease, grew angry with Lycurgus, and the son of Saturn struck him blind. Lycurgus did not live much longer after the immortals came to hate him. So I will not fight the blessed gods. But if you are one of those who eat food grown from the earth, come closer and meet your doom.”

And the son of Hippolochus answered, “Son of Tydeus, why ask me of my lineage? Men come and go as leaves year by year upon the trees. Those of autumn the wind sheds upon the ground, but when spring returns the forest buds forth with fresh vines. Even so is it with the generations of mankind, the new spring up as the old are passing away. If, then, you would learn my descent, it is one that is well known to many. There is a city in the heart of Argos, pasture land of horses, called Ephyra, where Sisyphus lived, who was the craftiest of all mankind. He was the son of Aeolus, and had a son named Glaucus, who was father to Bellerophon, whom heaven endowed with the most surpassing comeliness and beauty. But Proetus devised his ruin, and being stronger than he, drove him from the land of the Argives, over which Jove had made him ruler. For Antea, wife of Proetus, lusted after him, and would have had him lie with her in secret; but Bellerophon was an honourable man and would not, so she told lies about him to Proetus. ‘Proetus,’ said she, ‘kill Bellerophon or die, for he would have had converse with me against my will.’ The king was angered, but shrank from killing Bellerophon, so he sent him to Lycia with lying letters of introduction, written on a folded tablet, and containing much ill against the bearer. He bade Bellerophon show these letters to his father-in-law, to the end that he might thus perish; Bellerophon therefore went to Lycia, and the gods convoyed him safely.

And the son of Hippolochus answered, “Son of Tydeus, why ask about my ancestry? People come and go like leaves on the trees each year. The wind scatters autumn’s leaves on the ground, but when spring returns, the forest puts out fresh growth. So it is with human generations. New generations spring up as the old pass away. If you want to know my ancestry, many people know it well. There is a city called Ephyra in the heart of Argos, a land of pastures for horses. Sisyphus lived there, the craftiest of all mankind. He was the son of Aeolus and had a son named Glaucus. Glaucus was the father of Bellerophon, whom heaven blessed with the most extraordinary grace and beauty. But Proetus plotted Bellerophon’s ruin. Because Proetus was more powerful, he drove Bellerophon from the land of the Argives, where Jove had made Proetus ruler. Antea, the wife of Proetus, lusted after Bellerophon and wanted him to sleep with her in secret. But Bellerophon was an honorable man and refused, so she lied about him to Proetus. ‘Proetus,’ she said, ‘kill Bellerophon or die, for he tried to force me to sleep with him.’ The king was furious but could not bring himself to kill Bellerophon. So he sent Bellerophon to Lycia carrying dishonest letters of introduction written on a folded tablet. The letters contained much that would harm their bearer. Proetus told Bellerophon to show the letters to his father-in-law so that Bellerophon would meet his death. Bellerophon therefore went to Lycia, and the gods guided him safely.”

“When he reached the river Xanthus, which is in Lycia, the king received him with all goodwill, feasted him nine days, and killed nine heifers in his honour, but when rosy-fingered morning appeared upon the tenth day, he questioned him and desired to see the letter from his son-in-law Proetus. When he had received the wicked letter he first commanded Bellerophon to kill that savage monster, the Chimaera, who was not a human being, but a goddess, for she had the head of a lion and the tail of a serpent, while her body was that of a goat, and she breathed forth flames of fire; but Bellerophon slew her, for he was guided by signs from heaven. He next fought the far-famed Solymi, and this, he said, was the hardest of all his battles. Thirdly, he killed the Amazons, women who were the peers of men, and as he was returning thence the king devised yet another plan for his destruction; he picked the bravest warriors in all Lycia, and placed them in ambuscade, but not a man ever came back, for Bellerophon killed every one of them. Then the king knew that he must be the valiant offspring of a god, so he kept him in Lycia, gave him his daughter in marriage, and made him of equal honour in the kingdom with himself; and the Lycians gave him a piece of land, the best in all the country, fair with vineyards and tilled fields, to have and to hold.

“When he reached the river Xanthus in Lycia, the king welcomed him warmly. He feasted Bellerophon for nine days and killed nine heifers in his honor. But when rosy-fingered dawn appeared on the tenth day, the king questioned him. He asked to see the letter from his son-in-law Proetus. After receiving the wicked letter, the king first ordered Bellerophon to kill the savage monster, the Chimaera. She was not a human being but a goddess. She had a lion’s head, a serpent’s tail, and a goat’s body, and she breathed flames. But Bellerophon killed her, for signs from heaven guided him. Next, he fought the famous Solymi. He said this battle was the hardest of all his battles. Third, he killed the Amazons, women who were equal to men. As he returned from fighting them, the king devised yet another plan to destroy him. He chose the bravest warriors in all Lycia and set them in hiding to attack Bellerophon. But not one man returned, because Bellerophon killed every one of them. Then the king knew that Bellerophon must be the brave son of a god. So he kept Bellerophon in Lycia, gave him his daughter in marriage, and granted him equal honor in the kingdom. The Lycians gave Bellerophon a piece of land to own and keep, the best in all the country. It was beautiful, with vineyards and cultivated fields.

“The king’s daughter bore Bellerophon three children, Isander, Hippolochus, and Laodameia. Jove, the lord of counsel, lay with Laodameia, and she bore him noble Sarpedon; but when Bellerophon came to be hated by all the gods, he wandered all desolate and dismayed upon the Alean plain, gnawing at his own heart, and shunning the path of man. Mars, insatiate of battle, killed his son Isander while he was fighting the Solymi; his daughter was killed by Diana of the golden reins, for she was angered with her; but Hippolochus was father to myself, and when he sent me to Troy he urged me again and again to fight ever among the foremost and outvie my peers, so as not to shame the blood of my fathers who were the noblest in Ephyra and in all Lycia. This, then, is the descent I claim.”

“The king’s daughter had three children with Bellerophon: Isander, Hippolochus, and Laodameia. Jove, the lord of counsel, slept with Laodameia, and she gave birth to noble Sarpedon. But when all the gods came to hate Bellerophon, he wandered the Alean plain, lonely and distraught. He was consumed by grief and avoided other people. Mars, never satisfied with battle, killed Bellerophon’s son Isander while Isander was fighting the Solymi. His daughter was killed by Diana of the golden reins because the goddess was angry with her. But Hippolochus was my father. When he sent me to Troy, he urged me again and again to fight among the foremost and surpass my peers. He told me to do so to avoid bringing shame on my ancestors. They were the noblest in Ephyra and in all Lycia. This, then, is the ancestry I claim.”

Thus did he speak, and the heart of Diomed was glad. He planted his spear in the ground, and spoke to him with friendly words. “Then,” he said, “you are an old friend of my father’s house. Great Oeneus once entertained Bellerophon for twenty days, and the two exchanged presents. Oeneus gave a belt rich with purple, and Bellerophon a double cup, which I left at home when I set out for Troy. I do not remember Tydeus, for he was taken from us while I was yet a child, when the army of the Achaeans was cut to pieces before Thebes. Henceforth, however, I must be your host in middle Argos, and you mine in Lycia, if I should ever go there; let us avoid one another’s spears even during a general engagement; there are many noble Trojans and allies whom I can kill, if I overtake them and heaven delivers them into my hand; so again with yourself, there are many Achaeans whose lives you may take if you can; we two, then, will exchange armour, that all present may know of the old ties that subsist between us.”

His words made Diomed glad. Diomed planted his spear in the ground and spoke to him warmly. “Then,” he said, “you are an old friend of my father’s family. Great Oeneus once hosted Bellerophon for twenty days, and the two exchanged gifts. Oeneus gave him a rich purple belt, and Bellerophon gave Oeneus a double cup. I left that cup at home when I set out for Troy. I do not remember Tydeus, because he was taken from us when I was still a child. That was when the army of the Achaeans was cut to pieces outside Thebes. “From now on, though, I must be your host in central Argos. You must be mine in Lycia, if I ever go there. Let us avoid each other’s spears even when the armies are fighting all around us. There are many noble Trojans and allies I can kill, if I catch them and heaven puts them in my power. Likewise, there are many Achaeans whose lives you may take if you can. So let us exchange armour, so that everyone here may know of the old ties between us.”

With these words they sprang from their chariots, grasped one another’s hands, and plighted friendship. But the son of Saturn made Glaucus take leave of his wits, for he exchanged golden armour for bronze, the worth of a hundred head of cattle for the worth of nine.

With these words, they leaped from their chariots, clasped hands, and pledged their friendship. But the son of Saturn made Glaucus lose his senses, for Glaucus traded gold armor for bronze. He gave armor worth a hundred head of cattle for armor worth nine.

Now when Hector reached the Scaean gates and the oak tree, the wives and daughters of the Trojans came running towards him to ask after their sons, brothers, kinsmen, and husbands: he told them to set about praying to the gods, and many were made sorrowful as they heard him.

When Hector reached the Scaean gates and the oak tree, the Trojans’ wives and daughters came running toward him. They asked about their sons, brothers, relatives, and husbands. He told the women to start praying to the gods, and many grew sorrowful as they heard him.

Presently he reached the splendid palace of King Priam, adorned with colonnades of hewn stone. In it there were fifty bedchambers—all of hewn stone—built near one another, where the sons of Priam slept, each with his wedded wife. Opposite these, on the other side the courtyard, there were twelve upper rooms also of hewn stone for Priam’s daughters, built near one another, where his sons-in-law slept with their wives. When Hector got there, his fond mother came up to him with Laodice the fairest of her daughters. She took his hand within her own and said, “My son, why have you left the battle to come hither? Are the Achaeans, woe betide them, pressing you hard about the city that you have thought fit to come and uplift your hands to Jove from the citadel? Wait till I can bring you wine that you may make offering to Jove and to the other immortals, and may then drink and be refreshed. Wine gives a man fresh strength when he is wearied, as you now are with fighting on behalf of your kinsmen.”

Soon he reached King Priam’s splendid palace, adorned with rows of columns made of cut stone. Inside were fifty bedrooms, all built of cut stone and set close together. Priam’s sons slept there, each with his wife. Across the courtyard stood twelve upstairs rooms for Priam’s daughters, also built of cut stone and set close together. His sons-in-law slept there with their wives. When Hector arrived, his loving mother approached with Laodice, the most beautiful of her daughters. She took his hand in hers and said, “My son, why have you left the battle to come here? Are the Achaeans pressing you so hard around the city? May disaster strike them! Is that why you have come to raise your hands to Jove from the citadel? Wait while I bring you wine so you can make an offering to Jove and the other immortals. Then you can drink and refresh yourself. Wine gives a man renewed strength when he is tired, as you are now from fighting for your kinsmen.”

And Hector answered, “Honoured mother, bring no wine, lest you unman me and I forget my strength. I dare not make a drink-offering to Jove with unwashed hands; one who is bespattered with blood and filth may not pray to the son of Saturn. Get the matrons together, and go with offerings to the temple of Minerva driver of the spoil; there, upon the knees of Minerva, lay the largest and fairest robe you have in your house—the one you set most store by; promise, moreover, to sacrifice twelve yearling heifers that have never yet felt the goad, in the temple of the goddess if she will take pity on the town, with the wives and little ones of the Trojans, and keep the son of Tydeus from off the goodly city of Ilius, for he fights with fury, and fills men’s souls with panic. Go, then, to the temple of Minerva, while I seek Paris and exhort him, if he will hear my words. Would that the earth might open her jaws and swallow him, for Jove bred him to be the bane of the Trojans, and of Priam and Priam’s sons. Could I but see him go down into the house of Hades, my heart would forget its heaviness.”

And Hector answered, “Honored mother, bring no wine, or you may weaken my courage and make me forget my strength. I dare not pour a wine offering to Jove with unwashed hands. Someone covered in blood and filth may not pray to the son of Saturn. Gather the matrons and go with offerings to the temple of Minerva, who drives away the spoils of war. There, lay the largest and most beautiful robe in your house on Minerva’s knees. Choose the robe you value most. Also promise to sacrifice twelve yearling heifers in the goddess’s temple, heifers that have never felt the goad. Promise this if she will pity the town, the Trojans’ wives and little children, and protect them. Ask her to keep the son of Tydeus away from the beautiful city of Ilius. For he fights furiously and fills men’s hearts with panic. “Go, then, to Minerva’s temple while I look for Paris and urge him to fight, if he will listen. I wish the earth would open its jaws and swallow him. For Jove brought him into the world to ruin the Trojans, Priam, and Priam’s sons. If only I could see him go down to the house of Hades, my heart would forget its sorrow.”

His mother went into the house and called her waiting-women who gathered the matrons throughout the city. She then went down into her fragrant store-room, where her embroidered robes were kept, the work of Sidonian women, whom Alexandrus had brought over from Sidon when he sailed the seas upon that voyage during which he carried off Helen. Hecuba took out the largest robe, and the one that was most beautifully enriched with embroidery, as an offering to Minerva: it glittered like a star, and lay at the very bottom of the chest. With this she went on her way and many matrons with her.

His mother went into the house and called her attendants, who gathered the married women from throughout the city. She then went down to her fragrant storeroom, where she kept her embroidered robes. These were the work of Sidonian women whom Alexandrus had brought from Sidon. He had brought them on the same sea voyage during which he carried off Helen. Hecuba took out the largest robe, the one with the most beautiful embroidery, as an offering to Minerva. The robe glittered like a star and lay at the very bottom of the chest. She set off with the robe, accompanied by many married women.

When they reached the temple of Minerva, lovely Theano, daughter of Cisseus and wife of Antenor, opened the doors, for the Trojans had made her priestess of Minerva. The women lifted up their hands to the goddess with a loud cry, and Theano took the robe to lay it upon the knees of Minerva, praying the while to the daughter of great Jove. “Holy Minerva,” she cried, “protectress of our city, mighty goddess, break the spear of Diomed and lay him low before the Scaean gates. Do this, and we will sacrifice twelve heifers that have never yet known the goad, in your temple, if you will have pity upon the town, with the wives and little ones of the Trojans.” Thus she prayed, but Pallas Minerva granted not her prayer.

When they reached the temple of Minerva, lovely Theano opened the doors. She was the daughter of Cisseus and wife of Antenor. She opened the doors because the Trojans had made her Minerva’s priestess. The women raised their hands to the goddess and cried out loudly. Theano took the robe and laid it on Minerva’s knees, praying to the daughter of great Jove. “Holy Minerva,” she cried, “guardian of our city, mighty goddess, break the spear of Diomed. Strike him down before the Scaean gates. Do this, and we will sacrifice twelve heifers in your temple, none ever driven with a goad. We will offer them if you have pity on the town and the Trojans’ wives and little children.” So she prayed, but Pallas Minerva did not grant her prayer.

While they were thus praying to the daughter of great Jove, Hector went to the fair house of Alexandrus, which he had built for him by the foremost builders in the land. They had built him his house, storehouse, and courtyard near those of Priam and Hector on the acropolis. Here Hector entered, with a spear eleven cubits long in his hand; the bronze point gleamed in front of him, and was fastened to the shaft of the spear by a ring of gold. He found Alexandrus within the house, busied about his armour, his shield and cuirass, and handling his curved bow; there, too, sat Argive Helen with her women, setting them their several tasks; and as Hector saw him he rebuked him with words of scorn. “Sir,” said he, “you do ill to nurse this rancour; the people perish fighting round this our town; you would yourself chide one whom you saw shirking his part in the combat. Up then, or ere long the city will be in a blaze.”

While they were praying to the daughter of great Jove, Hector went to the beautiful house of Alexandrus. Alexandrus had hired the finest builders in the land to build it for him. They had built his house, storehouse, and courtyard near those of Priam and Hector on the acropolis. Hector entered with a spear eleven cubits long in his hand. Its bronze point gleamed before him and was secured to the shaft by a gold ring. He found Alexandrus inside, busy with his armor, shield, and breastplate, and handling his curved bow. Argive Helen also sat there with her women, assigning each woman her tasks. When Hector saw Alexandrus, he spoke to him with scorn. “Sir,” he said, “you are wrong to nurse this resentment. Our people are dying as they fight around our town. You yourself would scold anyone you saw avoiding his share of the fighting. Get up, then, or the city will soon be in flames.”

And Alexandrus answered, “Hector, your rebuke is just; listen therefore, and believe me when I tell you that I am not here so much through rancour or ill-will towards the Trojans, as from a desire to indulge my grief. My wife was even now gently urging me to battle, and I hold it better that I should go, for victory is ever fickle. Wait, then, while I put on my armour, or go first and I will follow. I shall be sure to overtake you.”

And Alexandrus answered, “Hector, your criticism is fair. So listen, and believe me when I say why I am here. It is less from bitterness or ill will toward the Trojans than from a desire to dwell on my grief. My wife was just gently urging me to fight, and I think I should go, because victory is always uncertain. So wait while I put on my armor, or go ahead and I will follow. I will be sure to catch up with you.”

Hector made no answer, but Helen tried to soothe him. “Brother,” said she, “to my abhorred and sinful self, would that a whirlwind had caught me up on the day my mother brought me forth, and had borne me to some mountain or to the waves of the roaring sea that should have swept me away ere this mischief had come about. But, since the gods have devised these evils, would, at any rate, that I had been wife to a better man—to one who could smart under dishonour and men’s evil speeches. This fellow was never yet to be depended upon, nor never will be, and he will surely reap what he has sown. Still, brother, come in and rest upon this seat, for it is you who bear the brunt of that toil that has been caused by my hateful self and by the sin of Alexandrus—both of whom Jove has doomed to be a theme of song among those that shall be born hereafter.”

Hector said nothing, but Helen tried to soothe him. “Brother,” she said, “I am hateful and sinful. I wish a whirlwind had carried me away on the day my mother gave birth to me. I wish it had swept me onto some mountain or into the roaring sea before all this trouble began. But since the gods have planned these evils, I wish at least I had married a better man. I wish I had married someone who felt the sting of dishonor and people’s insults. This man has never been dependable and never will be, and he will surely reap what he has sown. Still, brother, come in and rest on this seat. You bear the worst of the hardship caused by my hateful self and the sin of Alexandrus. Jove has doomed us both to become the subject of songs for generations yet to be born.”

And Hector answered, “Bid me not be seated, Helen, for all the goodwill you bear me. I cannot stay. I am in haste to help the Trojans, who miss me greatly when I am not among them; but urge your husband, and of his own self also let him make haste to overtake me before I am out of the city. I must go home to see my household, my wife and my little son, for I know not whether I shall ever again return to them, or whether the gods will cause me to fall by the hands of the Achaeans.”

And Hector answered, “Helen, despite all your kindness toward me, do not ask me to sit down. I cannot stay. I must hurry to help the Trojans, who miss me greatly when I am not with them. But urge your husband to hurry, and let him take the initiative too. He must catch up with me before I leave the city. I must go home to see my household, my wife, and my little son. For I do not know whether I will ever return to them. The gods may instead let me fall at the hands of the Achaeans.”

Then Hector left her, and forthwith was at his own house. He did not find Andromache, for she was on the wall with her child and one of her maids, weeping bitterly. Seeing, then, that she was not within, he stood on the threshold of the women’s rooms and said, “Women, tell me, and tell me true, where did Andromache go when she left the house? Was it to my sisters, or to my brothers’ wives? or is she at the temple of Minerva where the other women are propitiating the awful goddess?”

Then Hector left her and went straight to his own house. He did not find Andromache there. She was on the wall with her child and one of her maids, weeping bitterly. Seeing that she was not inside, he stood at the entrance to the women’s rooms and said, “Women, tell me the truth. Where did Andromache go when she left the house? Did she go to my sisters or my brothers’ wives? Or is she at the temple of Minerva, where the other women are trying to appease the fearsome goddess?”

His good housekeeper answered, “Hector, since you bid me tell you truly, she did not go to your sisters nor to your brothers’ wives, nor yet to the temple of Minerva, where the other women are propitiating the awful goddess, but she is on the high wall of Ilius, for she had heard the Trojans were being hard pressed, and that the Achaeans were in great force: she went to the wall in frenzied haste, and the nurse went with her carrying the child.”

His good housekeeper answered, “Hector, since you ask me to tell you the truth, she did not visit your sisters. Nor did she visit your brothers’ wives or the temple of Minerva. The other women are there, trying to win the fearsome goddess’s favor. But she is on the high wall of Ilius. She went because she had heard the Trojans were under heavy pressure and the Achaeans were out in great strength. She rushed to the wall in a frenzy, and the nurse went with her, carrying the child.”

Hector hurried from the house when she had done speaking, and went down the streets by the same way that he had come. When he had gone through the city and had reached the Scaean gates through which he would go out on to the plain, his wife came running towards him, Andromache, daughter of great Eetion who ruled in Thebe under the wooded slopes of Mt. Placus, and was king of the Cilicians. His daughter had married Hector, and now came to meet him with a nurse who carried his little child in her bosom—a mere babe. Hector’s darling son, and lovely as a star. Hector had named him Scamandrius, but the people called him Astyanax, for his father stood alone as chief guardian of Ilius. Hector smiled as he looked upon the boy, but he did not speak, and Andromache stood by him weeping and taking his hand in her own. “Dear husband,” said she, “your valour will bring you to destruction; think on your infant son, and on my hapless self who ere long shall be your widow—for the Achaeans will set upon you in a body and kill you. It would be better for me, should I lose you, to lie dead and buried, for I shall have nothing left to comfort me when you are gone, save only sorrow. I have neither father nor mother now. Achilles slew my father when he sacked Thebe the goodly city of the Cilicians. He slew him, but did not for very shame despoil him; when he had burned him in his wondrous armour, he raised a barrow over his ashes and the mountain nymphs, daughters of aegis-bearing Jove, planted a grove of elms about his tomb. I had seven brothers in my father’s house, but on the same day they all went within the house of Hades. Achilles killed them as they were with their sheep and cattle. My mother—her who had been queen of all the land under Mt. Placus—he brought hither with the spoil, and freed her for a great sum, but the archer-queen Diana took her in the house of your father. Nay—Hector—you who to me are father, mother, brother, and dear husband—have mercy upon me; stay here upon this wall; make not your child fatherless, and your wife a widow; as for the host, place them near the fig-tree, where the city can be best scaled, and the wall is weakest. Thrice have the bravest of them come thither and assailed it, under the two Ajaxes, Idomeneus, the sons of Atreus, and the brave son of Tydeus, either of their own bidding, or because some soothsayer had told them.”

Hector hurried from the house when she finished speaking and retraced his steps through the streets. He crossed the city and reached the Scaean gates, where he would go out onto the plain. His wife, Andromache, came running toward him. She was the daughter of great Eetion, king of the Cilicians. Eetion ruled in Thebe, beneath the wooded slopes of Mt. Placus. His daughter had married Hector. Now she came to meet him with a nurse carrying his little child against her chest. The child was still a baby, Hector’s darling son, as lovely as a star. Hector had named him Scamandrius, but the people called him Astyanax, because his father alone was the chief defender of Ilius. Hector smiled at the boy but said nothing. Andromache stood beside him, weeping and holding his hand. “Dear husband,” she said, “your courage will destroy you. Think of your infant son and of me, your poor wife, who will soon be your widow. The Achaeans will attack you together and kill you. If I lose you, I would be better off dead and buried. Once you are gone, I will have no comfort, only sorrow. I have neither father nor mother now. Achilles killed my father when he sacked Thebe, the beautiful city of the Cilicians. He killed him, but shame kept him from stripping his body. He burned him in his splendid armor and raised a burial mound over his ashes. The mountain nymphs, daughters of aegis-bearing Jove, planted a grove of elms around his tomb. I had seven brothers in my father’s house, but all seven entered the house of Hades on the same day. Achilles killed them while they were tending their sheep and cattle. My mother had been queen of all the land beneath Mt. Placus. Achilles brought her here among the spoils of war, then freed her for a large ransom. But the archer-queen Diana took her life in your father’s house. No, Hector, you are father, mother, brother, and dear husband to me. Have mercy on me. Stay here on the wall. Do not leave your child fatherless and your wife a widow. Station the army near the fig-tree, where the city is easiest to climb into and the wall is weakest. Three times the bravest Achaeans have attacked there. They were led by the two Ajaxes, Idomeneus, the sons of Atreus, and the brave son of Tydeus. They came either on their own initiative or because some soothsayer had told them to.”

And Hector answered, “Wife, I too have thought upon all this, but with what face should I look upon the Trojans, men or women, if I shirked battle like a coward? I cannot do so: I know nothing save to fight bravely in the forefront of the Trojan host and win renown alike for my father and myself. Well do I know that the day will surely come when mighty Ilius shall be destroyed with Priam and Priam’s people, but I grieve for none of these—not even for Hecuba, nor King Priam, nor for my brothers many and brave who may fall in the dust before their foes—for none of these do I grieve as for yourself when the day shall come on which some one of the Achaeans shall rob you for ever of your freedom, and bear you weeping away. It may be that you will have to ply the loom in Argos at the bidding of a mistress, or to fetch water from the springs Messeis or Hypereia, treated brutally by some cruel task-master; then will one say who sees you weeping, ‘She was wife to Hector, the bravest warrior among the Trojans during the war before Ilius.’ On this your tears will break forth anew for him who would have put away the day of captivity from you. May I lie dead under the barrow that is heaped over my body ere I hear your cry as they carry you into bondage.”

And Hector answered, “Wife, I too have thought about all this. But how could I face the Trojan men and women if I avoided battle like a coward? I cannot do that. I know only how to fight bravely at the front of the Trojan army. I fight to win glory for both my father and myself. I know well that the day will surely come when mighty Ilius will be destroyed, along with Priam and his people. But I grieve for none of them as much as I grieve for you. Not even for Hecuba, or King Priam, or my many brave brothers who may fall before their enemies. “One day, some Achaean will take away your freedom forever and carry you away weeping. You may have to work at a loom in Argos at a mistress’s command. Or you may have to fetch water from the springs Messeis or Hypereia, brutally treated by some cruel overseer. Then someone who sees you weeping will say, ‘She was Hector’s wife. He was the bravest warrior among the Trojans during the war outside Ilius.’ Those words will make you weep again for the man who would have kept you from captivity. May I lie dead beneath my burial mound before I hear your cries as they carry you into slavery.”

He stretched his arms towards his child, but the boy cried and nestled in his nurse’s bosom, scared at the sight of his father’s armour, and at the horse-hair plume that nodded fiercely from his helmet. His father and mother laughed to see him, but Hector took the helmet from his head and laid it all gleaming upon the ground. Then he took his darling child, kissed him, and dandled him in his arms, praying over him the while to Jove and to all the gods. “Jove,” he cried, “grant that this my child may be even as myself, chief among the Trojans; let him be not less excellent in strength, and let him rule Ilius with his might. Then may one say of him as he comes from battle, ‘The son is far better than the father.’ May he bring back the blood-stained spoils of him whom he has laid low, and let his mother’s heart be glad.”

He reached out his arms to his child, but the boy cried and snuggled against his nurse’s chest. He was frightened by his father’s armour and the horsehair plume swaying fiercely on his helmet. His father and mother laughed at the sight, but Hector took off his helmet and set it gleaming on the ground. Then he took his beloved child, kissed him, and bounced him gently in his arms. As he held him, he prayed to Jove and all the gods. “Jove,” he cried, “grant that my child may be like me, a leader among the Trojans. Let him be no less strong, and let him rule Ilius with his might. Then, as he returns from battle, may someone say, ‘The son is far better than the father.’ May he bring back the bloodstained armour and weapons of the man he has killed, and make his mother’s heart glad.”

With this he laid the child again in the arms of his wife, who took him to her own soft bosom, smiling through her tears. As her husband watched her his heart yearned towards her and he caressed her fondly, saying, “My own wife, do not take these things too bitterly to heart. No one can hurry me down to Hades before my time, but if a man’s hour is come, be he brave or be he coward, there is no escape for him when he has once been born. Go, then, within the house, and busy yourself with your daily duties, your loom, your distaff, and the ordering of your servants; for war is man’s matter, and mine above all others of them that have been born in Ilius.”

With these words, he placed the child back in his wife’s arms. She held him against her soft breast, smiling through her tears. As her husband watched her, his heart filled with tenderness. He gently stroked her and said, “My dear wife, do not take these things so much to heart. No one can send me down to Hades before my time. But when a man’s time comes, whether he is brave or cowardly, no one born can escape death. Go inside, then, and tend to your daily duties, weaving, spinning, and directing your servants. For war is men’s work, and mine above all other men born in Ilius.”

He took his plumed helmet from the ground, and his wife went back again to her house, weeping bitterly and often looking back towards him. When she reached her home she found her maidens within, and bade them all join in her lament; so they mourned Hector in his own house though he was yet alive, for they deemed that they should never see him return safe from battle, and from the furious hands of the Achaeans.

He picked up his plumed helmet from the ground, and his wife went back to her house. She wept bitterly and often looked back at him. When she reached home, she found her maids inside and told them all to join her in mourning. So they mourned Hector in his own house, though he was still alive. They believed he would never return safely from battle and escape the furious hands of the Achaeans.

Paris did not remain long in his house. He donned his goodly armour overlaid with bronze, and hasted through the city as fast as his feet could take him. As a horse, stabled and fed, breaks loose and gallops gloriously over the plain to the place where he is wont to bathe in the fair-flowing river—he holds his head high, and his mane streams upon his shoulders as he exults in his strength and flies like the wind to the haunts and feeding ground of the mares—even so went forth Paris from high Pergamus, gleaming like sunlight in his armour, and he laughed aloud as he sped swiftly on his way. Forthwith he came upon his brother Hector, who was then turning away from the place where he had held converse with his wife, and he was himself the first to speak. “Sir,” said he, “I fear that I have kept you waiting when you are in haste, and have not come as quickly as you bade me.”

Paris did not stay long in his house. He put on his fine bronze-covered armor and hurried through the city as fast as his feet could carry him. He was like a well-fed horse that breaks free from its stable and gallops proudly across the plain. The horse heads for its usual bathing place in the clear-flowing river. It holds its head high, its mane streaming over its shoulders, and delights in its strength. It races like the wind toward the places where the mares gather and graze. Just so, Paris left high Pergamus, his armor gleaming like sunlight. He laughed aloud as he hurried along. He soon came upon his brother Hector, who was just leaving the place where he had spoken with his wife. Paris spoke first. “Sir,” he said, “I fear I have kept you waiting when you are in a hurry. I have not come as quickly as you told me to.”

“My good brother,” answered Hector, “you fight bravely, and no man with any justice can make light of your doings in battle. But you are careless and wilfully remiss. It grieves me to the heart to hear the ill that the Trojans speak about you, for they have suffered much on your account. Let us be going, and we will make things right hereafter, should Jove vouchsafe us to set the cup of our deliverance before ever-living gods of heaven in our own homes, when we have chased the Achaeans from Troy.”

“My dear brother,” Hector answered, “you fight bravely, and no one can fairly belittle what you do in battle. But you are careless and deliberately neglect your duties. It hurts me deeply to hear the Trojans speak badly of you, because they have suffered greatly because of you. Let us go, and we will put things right later, if Jove allows us to celebrate our deliverance. Then, after driving the Achaeans from Troy, we can offer the cup of our deliverance in our own homes to the immortal gods of heaven.”