Eagerly did Odysseus and Diomedes listen. But when he had ended and begged them to take him a prisoner to the ships, or to let him go free, grimly did Diomedes look at him.
‘Good is thy news, Dolon,’ he said, ‘yet nevermore shalt thou have a chance of playing the spy, or of fighting against the men of Greece.’
With that he raised his mighty sword, and ere Dolon could beg for mercy he smote him on the neck. Cleanly was his head shorn off, and it rolled in the dust at the feet of Diomedes. His casque of ferret-skin, and the grey wolf-skin, and javelin and bow did Odysseus and Diomedes then take from him and held them aloft, an offering to Athene. They placed them on a tamarisk bush, raising on it a mark of long reeds and branches of tamarisk, lest they might miss the place as they returned again ere dawn.
Across the plain did they hasten then, until they came to the camp of the Thracians. Deep was the sleep of the warriors who lay, each with his arms beside him, and his two horses standing near at hand. And in the midst of them lay Rhesus the king, his great white horses tethered to his chariot of silver and gold.
‘Lo, here is the man, and here are the horses of which Dolon gave us tidings,’ said Odysseus.
And thereupon did the slaying begin.
Like a lion that rends a flock of sheep without a shepherd, even so did Diomedes slay the men of Thrace. On this side and on that he slew, till the earth grew red with blood, and terrible was the groaning of the dying men. Twelve men did he slay, and as he slew them, Odysseus dragged them to the side that a way might be left clear for the white horses of Rhesus. For he feared that panic might seize them were they to step in the darkness upon the dead men.
The thirteenth man was King Rhesus himself. An evil dream made him draw his breath hard and quick, but ere he could awake from sleep the sword of Diomedes took his life away. Then did Odysseus drive the horses out of the camp, smiting them with his bow, for he had no whip, and driving them onwards.
To Diomedes he whistled, for a sign that he should cease from slaying and follow him and their lordly spoil. Still did Diomedes linger, pondering whether he should drag the chariot with him, or slay yet more of the Thracians. And as he pondered, Athene came to him.
‘Return to the ships, Diomedes,’ she said, ‘lest another of the gods arouse the Trojans, and in flight thou art driven before them.’