Greeks and Trojans face to face: The Duel
I
Priam was sitting in council with all his elders before the doors of his palace, when a messenger rushed breathless up with the tidings that the Greeks were marching in full force against the city. Instantly the meeting broke up, and the Trojan leaders, with Hector at their head, set out with the whole body of native warriors and their allies to bar the way of the invader.
Halting before a solitary mound, the tomb of the Amazon Myrine, within sight of the walls of Troy, they drew up their forces in order of battle. The native Trojans, who fought under Hector, son of Priam, formed the flower of the army; but in numbers they were far exceeded by the troops which had assembled, at the call of Priam, from the adjacent provinces and coastlands of western Asia—from Lydia, Mysia, Paphlagonia, and far-off Lycia—from Sestos and Abydos and Thrace. After Hector, the most famous leaders were Æneas, son of Anchises and Aphrodite; Pandarus, unrivalled for his skill in archery; Paris, whose crime had brought all these woes on his country, and above all the two captains of the Lycians—Sarpedon, the son of Zeus, and Glaucus, the most knightly figure among all the heroes of Greece and Troy.
When the various members of that motley host had taken their appointed stations, the defenders of Troy advanced with clamour and with tumult, like flocks of cranes winging their way to the shores of the ocean stream to make war on the Pygmies. Presently the van of the Greeks came in sight, moving on in silence, like men with one mind and one heart.
Foremost among the Trojan champions was seen the gay and beautiful Paris. He was clad in a panther's skin, over which hung his bow and arrows, and besides these weapons, in the use of which he excelled, he was armed with two long spears and a sword. Menelaus marked him as he came on with long strides, and rejoiced in spirit, like a hungry lion when he catches sight of his prey; and leaping down from his car he advanced with uplifted spear to take vengeance on his treacherous foe. But when Paris saw him coming his guilty heart quailed within him, and he shrank back among the ranks of his comrades, like one who has trodden on a snake while walking in a mountain glen.
"Now curse on thy fair, false face!" cried Hector to his cowardly brother, "thou carpet-knight, thou foul deceiver! Better for thee to have died childless and unwed than thus to bring shame on thy father and all thy kinsfolk and people. Thou art a fit foe for women, whom thou beguilest with witchcraft of thy wit, and wicked gifts; but all thy gifts—thy curling locks, thy smooth, white brow, thy sweet voice, and cunning minstrelsy—avail thee naught when thou lookest upon the face of a man. Verily the Trojans are as dastardly as thyself, or long ere this thou wouldst have put on a doublet of stone[[1]] for all the ills that thou hast wrought."
[[1]] That is, "Wouldst have been stoned to death."
"I have deserved thy rebuke," answered Paris. "Keen as the blade of an axe, which bites deep into the heart of an oak, when wielded by a sinewy arm, so is the keenness of thy spirit, and thou knowest not fear. Nevertheless, mock me not for the lovely gifts of Aphrodite, for the gifts of heaven are not to be despised. And if thou desirest me to take up this quarrel with Menelaus thou hast thy wish. I will fight against him hand to hand, and he who is victor shall be lord of Helen and all her possessions. So shall the long strife have an end, and peace shall dwell again within our borders."
When Hector heard his brother's bold words he was glad, and gave the word to make the Trojans sit down in their ranks. At first the Greeks did not understand what was happening, and pressed onward to the attack with a shower of stones and arrows; but Agamemnon soon perceived that Hector had something to propose, and gave the signal for a general halt.
Then Hector, standing midway between the two armies, made known the offer of Paris, and asked for an armistice, that the two champions might try the issue between them. All eyes were now turned on Menelaus, who responded boldly to the challenge. "I am well content," said he, "that this quarrel should be decided by the hands of us twain; for it grieves my heart that so many should suffer for the sake of my private wrong. Let two lambs be brought—a white ram as an offering to the sun, and a black ram as an offering to the earth; and go some of you to fetch Priam, that he may preside at the treaty. His sons we may not trust, for they are hot-blooded and faithless; but an old man's head is cool, and his eye looks before and after."
Right pleased were both Greeks and Trojans when the order was sent round to dismount from their cars and pile their arms; for they thought that the end of their bitter feud was near. Two heralds were despatched to bring down Priam from the city, and Agamemnon sent another for a victim to be sacrificed on behalf of the Greeks.
II
Helen was sitting in her chamber, weaving a fair tapestry, on which were wrought the famous deeds done in her cause by Greek and Trojan heroes, when her task was interrupted by the sudden entrance of her kinswoman, Laodice, a daughter of Priam. "Make haste, dear sister," said the lady, "come with me, and see the wonderful thing which has been brought to pass. Greeks and Trojans are sitting down in amity together, and Paris and Menelaus are to fight with long spears for the mastery; and he that prevaileth shall call thee his wife."
When she heard that, a great longing came into the heart of Helen for her Spartan home and her former lord. With one tearful glance at the speaker she rose from her seat, veiled her face, and made her way to the high tower above the gate where Priam was sitting with the elders of Troy. The shrill, piping voices[[2]] of the old men struck upon her ears as she stepped out upon the turret; and when they saw her they put their heads together, and whispered their admiration of her wondrous loveliness. "How fair, how very fair she is!" murmured one white-bearded veteran. "Is she not worthy to be the arbitress of life and death to a whole generation of heroes! Nevertheless let her depart, and breed no further mischief to us and our children."
[[2]] Compared by Homer to grasshoppers.
Then Priam called to her, and beckoned her with a courteous gesture to take her place by his side. "Come hither, dear daughter," he said, "where thou canst see thy former husband, and thy kinsfolk and friends. I blame thee not at all because of this war which the gods have brought upon me in mine old age. Now tell me," he continued, pointing with his finger towards the Greek army, which lay in full view upon the plain, "who is that stately man to whom all the other chieftains seem to pay homage? Ne'er saw I one of so kingly a mien."
"I dread thy presence, father," answered Helen, glancing in the direction indicated, and then casting down her eyes. "I tremble before thee, kind as thou art, for I feel all the wrong which I have done unto thee and thine. And as touching him of whom thou askest, that is Agamemnon, son of Atreus, lord of a wide empire, a righteous king, and a valiant warrior. Once I called him brother," she added, with a sigh.
"'Tis then as I thought," rejoined Priam, "for there is sovereignty in his look. And who is he who stands next to Agamemnon, in stature less than he, but broader of shoulder and deeper of chest? Methinks he is like a stately ram, who stalks majestic before the flock as they go to pasture."
"That is Odysseus, son of Laertes," answered Helen, "bred in the rugged isle of Ithaca. All Greece cannot show his equal in wisdom and eloquence."
"Lady," said Antenor, an elder of high rank. "herein thou hast spoken the very truth. I entertained him of whom thou speakest as my guest when he came hither on an embassy with Menelaus, and I heard them both speaking before the assembly of the Trojans. When they stood up together Menelaus was by far the taller; but when they were seated there was greater dignity in Odysseus. Then as to eloquence, Odysseus bore away the palm from all—though Menelaus spoke both fluently and to the purpose. At first, when Odysseus rose to speak, we wondered to see how ungracefully he stood, leaning heavily on his sceptre, with eyes fixed upon the ground. He seemed a very churl, unskilled in all courtesy and the arts of civil life. But when he lifted up his mighty voice, and his words floated about us like the snowflakes of winter, we knew that we were listening to a divinely gifted man."
At Priam's request Helen named the other chieftains of the Greeks, Ajax and Idomeneus, and the rest; and when the recital was ended she remained gazing wistfully at the dense masses of fighting men who sat waiting on the plain. "I cannot see them," she murmured sadly: "they are not there." "Of whom speakest thou?" asked Priam. "Of Castor and Polydeuces," she answered, "the bold rider, and the stout boxer, my own brothers, born of the same mother with me. Perchance they sailed not in the fleet to Troy, or perchance they have remained behind in the camp, in sorrow for their sister's shame."
Helen on the Walls of Troy. Lord Leighton. By permission of Henry Graves & Co., Ltd.
Ah! Helen, thy brothers are lying where shame and sorrow can reach them no more, sleeping in their quiet graves, in Lacedæmon, their native land.