Thereupon arose a strife of tongues, and all the harmony and good-fellowship of the feast was gone, for one said one thing and one another, and each one in her heart wished to have it for her own. But the claim of three stood out above that of all the rest.
"I am the Queen of Heaven," said Hera, "and the mother of gods and man. The apple is mine by right."
"I am the giver of knowledge and wisdom," said Pallas Athene, "and through me all things are perfected, and the wrong is put to right. The apple should be mine."
"I am the Goddess of Love," said Aphrodite, "I am life itself. My claim is the best of all."
As Peleus looked on them he knew not to which of them he should give it, for each in turn seemed fairest. And he was wily withal, and knew he could not give it to one without angering the other two against him. So he said,
"O lady goddesses, who am I that I should judge between you? Choose you your own judge from among the sons of men, and he shall give the apple to her he deems the fairest."
Then they consulted together, and chose Paris, the son of Priam, King of Troy; for he was the fairest of all mortal men, and would know how to judge between them. And they left the halls of Peleus with a smile upon their lips, but in their hearts was envy and hatred where there had once been sympathy and love; for the apple of discord had fulfilled the purpose of her who gave it.
Now Paris was the second son of Priam and Hecuba, and brother of Hector, the pride of Troy. The night before he was born his mother dreamed a dreadful dream—that she had given birth to a firebrand which set all Troy aflame. In terror she sent for her child Cassandra, the priestess of Apollo, whose word came always true. And she told her dream, and asked what it could mean. Then Apollo raised from Cassandra's eyes the veil that hides the future, and she told her mother the meaning of that dream.
"In mine ears," she cried, "there sounds the din of battle and the clash of arms. I see round Troy the foe-men's tents, and their ships drawn up upon the shore. I see Scamander's stream run red with blood. Through the desolate streets slinks one whose manhood has departed, and who shuns the eyes of his fellow-men, for he prized a woman's arms above his country's honour. That man is the son that thou shalt bear, and he shall be the curse of Troy."
When Priam the king heard these words his heart was filled with anger.