The fourth was Meriones, who was a poor driver, and whose steeds were the weakest; and last of all came Eumelus, with face sorely disfigured, dragging his wrecked car behind him, and driving before him his horses. "The last man is the best!" cried Achilles, moved to pity by his ill-fortune. "How say you, sirs? Shall we not give him the second prize?" The proposal found general approval, excepting, of course, with Antilochus, who loudly protested against such an award. "Thou art no friend of mine, Achilles," he said angrily, "if thou deprive me of the gift which I have fairly earned. Prizes are given to reward the winners, not to console the unlucky. If you wish to be generous, you can make Eumelus happy by bestowing on him some other gift, of equal or greater value, out of the rich store which is laid up in your tent. But this prize is mine, and I will not give her up no, not if I have to fight for her."
So saying, he seized the halter of the mare, who was tethered near, with her foal, to be given to him who won the second place.
The great Achilles smiled indulgently at the defiant attitude of Antilochus, who was very dear to him. "It shall be as you say," he replied. "The prize is yours, and to Eumelus I will give the corslet of Asteropæus, which I won in the battle yesterday." Automedon brought the corslet—a curious piece of work, finely fashioned in brass, with a casting of white metal—and Eumelus' eyes glistened with pleasure as he received it.
But the storm which had been lowering in the face of Menelaus ever since Antilochus had passed him now burst. Having caused the herald to proclaim silence he took the staff from his hands, as a sign that he had an important statement to make, and standing up before the whole assembly proclaimed his wrongs to the ears of all. "I am astonished," he said, "at the conduct of Antilochus. He has beaten me in the race by a trick, though his horses are far inferior to mine in any fair trial of speed. I appeal to all those present to say whether it is not so. If he denies it, let him take his whip in his hand, and holding his horses by the rein swear a solemn oath, in the name of Poseidon, the god of horsemanship, that he did not hinder me by fraud in the race."
Menelaus was clearly in the wrong, indeed, his whole plea was absurd; for nothing but his own faint-heartedness had lost him the second prize. But out of respect to his high rank and amiable character Antilochus was willing to appease him. Accordingly he brought the mare with her foal to Menelaus, and placing the bridle in his hand said respectfully: "Spare me thy reproaches, gentle prince! I yield to thee the prize, and would sacrifice much more than this, rather than lose thy favour and incur the anger of heaven."
As falls the refreshing dew on the bristling ears of barley, when the crops are ripening, so fell the soft answer of Antilochus on the Spartan prince's heart, and the sharp stings of resentment pricked him no more. "Thou shalt have the prize," he said mildly, "though it is mine by right. Thou art not wont to be so heedless of what is due to others: but this time thy young blood didst get the mastery of thy better sense. Take heed that thou art not so reckless again. I have yielded to thee in this for thy father's sake, and for thine also; for ye have both suffered many things in my cause." And so the dispute, which threatened to disturb the harmony of the meeting, was happily ended.
Five prizes had been offered for the race, and as Eumelus had received a special gift, the fifth prize, a drinking goblet, still remained unclaimed. Observing this, Achilles seized the occasion of showing his esteem for the venerable King of Pylos. So he took the cup, and going to the place where Nestor was sitting put it in his hands. "Take this, father," he said, "as a memorial of our lost Patroclus, in whose honour we are met to-day. Thou art full of years and honours, and deservest the highest prize of all, though thou canst not strive with young men in boxing, or in wrestling, or in speed of foot."
"Thou sayest truly, my son," answered the old man, "my feet are heavy with age, and my arms dart not nimbly from the shoulder, as they did of yore. Yet the day has been when none could vie with me in feats of strength and skill. Well do I remember the funeral games of a noble prince of Elis, where I won the prize in every contest, except only in the chariot race, and then I was overmatched by numbers, for the winning car had two drivers, one plying the lash, and the other managing the reins. Alas for my youth! Alas for my vanished strength! Now I must be content to see others excel, though once I was mighty among the mightiest. Let then the games proceed, and receive an old man's blessing for thy kindly gift."
IV
"Now let the boxers try their skill and hardihood," said Achilles, when he had returned to his seat. "Here is a stout mule of six years old for the winner, and for the loser there is a silver cup."