Stories from the Iliad

by H. L. Havell

The Night Raid on the Trojan Camp

I

Uneasy lay the head of Agamemnon the King that night, and, thick as lightnings which herald the storm, thronging cares shot through his brain, forbidding all repose. As often as he opened his eyes he saw the red gleam of the Trojan watchfires; and the hum of the armed multitude, mingled with the strains of flute and pipe, filled his ears. After an hour of weary tossing he left his couch, and wandered out into the camp, until he came to the quarters of Menelaus, and, finding him also afoot, he sent him to call up Ajax and Idomeneus, and went himself to summon Nestor, intending to hold a midnight council, and devise some plan of relief in this hour of general depression and dismay.

On the way he was joined by Diomede and Odysseus, and when they all met it was resolved to pay a visit to the sentinels and see if they were faithful to their trust. When they came to the place where the pickets were stationed, outside the barriers, they found the whole troop keeping watch and ward with sleepless vigilance, like dogs in charge of a sheep-fold when they hear a lion prowling without. Every man was on the alert, with his face towards the Trojan leaguer, as if expecting an instant attack. Nestor's long experience of war now enabled him to make a suggestion which led to one of the most famous adventures in the whole course of the war. "Is there one among you bold enough," he said, "to go and spy out the movements of the Trojans in their camp, and bring back a report of what they design against us? 'Twould be a noble enterprise, and would bring both fame and profit to him who should accomplish it."

There was a short pause, and then Diomede declared himself willing to undertake this perilous adventure, "But will not one of you go with me?" he asked. "Two heads are better than one, and I may find myself in a strait in which I should need a comrade's help and advice."

Six of the leaders at once offered to accompany Diomede, and among these were Menelaus, Odysseus, and Antilochus, the captain of the outpost, who was especially eager to go. "Choose him whom thou thinkest best fitted for the task, without respect to rank or birth," said Agamemnon, in fear lest he should name Menelaus for his companion. "Well, then," answered Diomede, "I choose Odysseus, the hardiest and the shrewdest spirit among us all, and the darling of Athene. With him at my side I will go through fire and water without scathe."

"A truce to thy praises," said Odysseus, "and let us away, for the night is far spent, and the day is at hand."

II

Lightly armed and equipped, the stout-hearted pair passed out of the light of the watchfires, and set their faces towards the Trojan camp. Just as they were starting they heard the cry of a heron flying on the right, and Odysseus was glad, for he knew it was a sign sent by Athene, promising success to their journey. Murmuring a prayer, they stepped forward boldly, like two lions bound on a midnight foray, and crossed the battlefield of yesterday, over corpses and broken armour and pools of blood. Suddenly Odysseus came to a halt, and laying his hand on Diomede's arm whispered: "I hear a footstep as of one coming this way, whether to spy out our camp, or to plunder the dead, I know not. Let us allow him to go by us, and then spring upon him as he passes."

Crouching down among the heaps of slain, they waited until the man had passed in the direction of the ships, and then leapt from their ambush and gave chase. When he heard them he hesitated a moment, doubting whether they were friends or foes; then, recognising them as Greeks, he bounded away at full speed, Odysseus and Diomede following hard behind, like two hounds on the track of a doe or hare. But the fellow was a fleet runner, and would have been fairly driven into the hands of the Greek sentinels, if Diomede had not raised his spear, and sent it whizzing close to the ear of the fugitive, crying as he did so: "Halt! whoever thou art, or my next cast shall bring thee down."

Then the wretch was afraid, and stood still, in obedience to the summons, with knees knocking together and chattering teeth; and the two Greeks ran up, panting for breath, and seized him by the arms. Weeping with terror he began to beg for his life. "Make me your prisoner," he faltered, "and I will pay you a heavy ransom, for my father's house is full of silver and gold, and vessels of iron,[[1]] choicely wrought, and he will pay you a heavy price when he hears that I am alive."

[[1]] Iron was scarce and highly prized among the Homeric Greeks.

"Have no fears for thy life," said Odysseus; "only answer me truly, and thou art safe. Why art thou wandering here in the dead of night? Art thou on an adventure of thine own, or did Hector send thee to spy out the Grecian camp?"

"It was Hector who beguiled me to commit this folly," answered the captive, whose name was Dolon; "for he bribed me with a great bribe, promising to give me the steeds of Peleus' haughty son, if I would go down to the fleet, and bring back information whether you were preparing to fly from our shores in the night."

"Thou art ambitious, I see," replied Odysseus, smiling. "Bold must be thy heart, and firm thy hand, if thou wouldst drive the steeds of Æacides, which are of no mortal breed. But tell me now, and answer me truly, where is Hector stationed in the Trojan camp, and in what order have the others pitched their tents?"

"Hector and the chiefs," answered Dolon, still shaking with mortal dread, "have their quarters by the tomb of Ilus, and round them lie the native Trojans, keeping good watch. The allies are encamped about them, in no fixed order, and they are all asleep. On the very outskirts of the camp lie the Thracians, and Rhesus their king; and if ye are minded to make an onfall on their leaguer ye may do it in safety, and win a rare prize. For Rhesus hath a pair of milk-white coursers, unmatched in strength and speed, and a car richly adorned with silver and gold. Likewise he hath a suit of golden armour, fit for the gods to wear. And all this ye may win without a blow. Now leave me in the custody of your comrades, or bind me fast here, that ye may know when ye return whether I have spoken the truth."

But that night was to afford a second instance of broken faith, hardly less infamous than the first. Having tempted this poor caitiff to betray his comrades by promising him his life, they now gave him the traitor's wage. "Thou must die, Dolon," said Diomede coldly, "for all thy good news. Thou art a foe, delivered into our hands, and thou shalt never spy upon us or fight with us again." Dolon clung to him with cries of anguished entreaty, pleading for his life; but Diomede, with one downward stroke of his sword, swept off his head, which rolled, with lips still moving, in the dust. Then stripping off his armour, he hung it in a tamarisk tree, and, having marked the place, went forward with Odysseus in the direction of the Thracian camp.

When they came to the quarters of Rhesus, they found him lying in the midst of his men, with his famous steeds standing near, tethered to their car. All the troop was sleeping heavily, for they were newly arrived at Troy, and had travelled far and fast the day before. "There he is," whispered Odysseus, "and these are his steeds, a glorious pair! Now to work! Slay me a score of these sluggards while I loose the steeds."

Thereupon Diomede drew his sword, and struck right and left like a headsman, until he had slain some dozen of the sleeping Thracians; and, as he proceeded, Odysseus dragged the slaughtered men out of the way, to make a path for the horses, which were young, and unused to such sights. Diomede's last victim was the giant Rhesus, who was breathing heavily, and dreaming of his home; but a Grecian blade cut short his dreams, and his fleet coursers now found a new master. While Diomede was thus busy, Odysseus untethered the steeds, and coupling them together by their harness drove them out of the camp, striking them with a bow which he carried; for he had forgotten to take up the whip. Diomede still lingered, meditating some final act of daring, to crown the night's adventure. Beneath him lay the corpse of Rhesus, and his golden armour, and he was hesitating whether to take these, or slay a few more Thracians, when Odysseus gave a low whistle, warning him that it was time to be going. The next moment he heard the sound of hurrying footsteps, and, perceiving that the alarm had been given, he joined Odysseus, and mounting one of the horses seized the other by the bridle, and rode at a rapid trot towards the sea. Odysseus ran by his side, holding on by the harness, for he was no rider,[[2]] but a swift and enduring runner.

[[2]] Riding was little practised among the Homeric heroes.

They had no sooner departed than a wild commotion arose behind them in the awakened Thracian camp, but increasing their pace they soon reached the spot where they had left the unhappy Dolon, and, having paused for a moment to take up his armour, they hurried forward, and before long they were within hail of the Grecian outposts, where the whole company of the leaders was still assembled, anxiously awaiting their return.

Nestor was the first to hear the sound of the horses' feet, and thinking that the Trojans were attacking he ran to raise the alarm. But he was soon reassured when he heard the voice of Diomede, followed a moment later by the arrival of the hardy adventurers with their splendid booty. Joyful were the greetings on both sides, and when the story of that great exploit had been briefly told they all dispersed to their quarters, to snatch a few hours of sleep before the toils of the coming day.

The Brave Deeds of Agamemnon: Reverses of the Greeks

In the still hours of the dawn the Greeks were startled from their slumbers by a loud and fearful cry, which came from no mortal lips, but from Eris, the dread goddess of strife, who had been sent down by Zeus to give the signal for battle. The first to obey that awful summons was Agamemnon; for this was to be his great day, and his heart was aflame with the lust of slaughter. Springing from his couch he began to don his armour. First he put on his greaves, which were made of pliant white metal, with ankle pieces of silver. Then he took up his corslet, with a glance of pride, for it was of choice and costly workmanship, cunningly fashioned of thin strips or courses of metal. Ten courses were of blue steel, and ten of gold, and twenty of tin; and round about the corslet wound three serpents, wrought in divers colours, like the rainbow, with their heads meeting where the corslet narrowed at the neck. His sword glittered with golden ornaments, and the scabbard was of silver, and the baldric of gold. On his shield, which had ten circles of brass, were twenty bosses of white tin, and in the centre a boss of blue steel; and it bore an image of the Gorgon's head and the dreadful faces of Rout and Panic. Attached to it was a silver strap, bearing the device of a serpent with three heads.

Glittering in this gorgeous panoply, brandishing two spears, and raising his battle cry, Agamemnon rushed to the gates of the camp, and placed himself at the head of his bravest champions, who were mustering there with the flower of the Greek army, prepared for the expected attack. They had not long to wait; hardly had they set their ranks in order, when the Trojans appeared on the summit of the slope which ran down to the shore. And like a star which appears and disappears on a stormy night, when the sky is covered with scudding clouds, so glittered the mailed form of Hector, as he ranged in and out among the advancing columns, marshalling his men to the fight.

Then like two lines of reapers working together on opposite sides of a deep field of wheat or barley, so met Greeks and Trojans on the plain before the camp, and war's dread harvest began. None of the gods were present, save only Eris, whose savage heart was glad when she smelt the smell of blood. And Zeus sat apart on a lonely peak, looking down upon Troy and the Grecian fleet and the two warring nations in the space between.

Until the hour of noon the battle was waged with equal fortune on both sides. But just at the time when a woodman in some mountain glen breaks off his labour to prepare his midday meal, having