“Gladly will I follow thee, brother,” answered Paris. “Thy reproaches are just. I have been brooding upon my misfortune, but my wife has just persuaded me to return to the field, and I am ready. Tarry a while until I have put on my armor or else go and I will follow thee.”
“Dear Hector,” spake gracious Helen sadly, “how it grieves me to see you all engaged in this cruel war, for the sake of a contemptible woman like myself. O that I had been destroyed at birth or had been flung into the sea! Or, if the gods have destined me to such misfortune, would at least that I had fallen into the hands of a brave man, who would take the disgrace and reproaches of his family to heart and could wipe out his shame by heroic deeds. But Paris is not a man. Enter and be seated, Hector, for thou has toiled most arduously in my behalf and suffered most for thy brother’s crime.”
“Thy gracious invitation I may not accept,” answered Hector, “for my heart urges me to return to aid the Trojans. I beg thee persuade Paris to overtake me before I leave the city. Now I must go to my own house to see my wife once more and little son; for who knoweth whether I shall ever return?”
He did not find his spouse at home, but on the tower at the Scæan gate, where she was following the fate of the Trojans. As he neared the gate she came to meet him, the modest, sensible Andromache, and behind her came the nurse with the little boy. His loving wife took him tenderly by the hand and wept over him. “Thy courage will surely be thy death,” she said. “Take pity on thy miserable wife and infant son, for the Achaians will surely kill thee, and then I had best sink into the earth; for what would remain for me? I am alone. Hector, thou art father and mother and brother to me, my precious husband. Take pity on me and remain in the tower. Do not make me a widow and thy son an orphan.”
Hector answered: “Dearly beloved, I am troubled also at thy fate, but I could not face the Trojan people if I shunned danger like a coward. True, I foresee the day when sacred Ilium will fall, bringing disaster upon the king and all the people, and thy fate touches me more nearly than that of father, mother, or brothers. Thou mayest be carried away to slavery in Argos to labor for a cruel mistress. Rather would I be in the grave than see thee in misery.”
Sadly the hero stretched out his arms to his boy, but the child hid his face in the nurse’s bosom, terrified at the helmet with its fluttering plumes. Smiling, the father took it off and laid it on the ground, and now the boy went to him willingly. He kissed the child tenderly, and turning his eyes heavenward prayed fervently; “Jupiter and ye other gods, grant that my boy may be a leader among the Trojans like his father and powerful in Ilium, that sometime it may be said: ‘He is much greater than his father.’ May his mother rejoice in him.”
As he placed the child in its mother’s arms, she smiled through her tears. “Poor wife,” he said, caressing her, “do not grieve too much. I shall not be sent to Hades unless it is my fate—no one can escape his destiny, be he high or low. Do thou attend to thine affairs at home and keep thy maidens busily at work. Men are made for war, and I most of all.” He picked up his helmet and hurried away. Andromache went also, but often turned to gaze after her dear husband.
Paris overtook his brother at the gate. “Do not be angry, brother, at my tardiness,” he said. “My good fellow,” answered Hector, “thou art a brave warrior, but often indifferent. I cannot bear the scornful gossip of the people who are enduring so much for thy sake. But we will talk of this another time—perhaps when we shall make a thankoffering for the defeat of the Achaians.” Thus speaking they hastened towards the battlefield.
Chapter VI
Hector and Ajax in Single Combat—A Truce—Another Battle at the Ships
To the weary Trojans the appearance of the two heroes was as welcome as a long-desired breeze after a calm at sea to a sailor, and they soon made their presence felt. Pierced by Paris’ arrow, the excellent Menestheus fell and Hector slew the valiant Eïoneus. Many another who had believed Hector far away met death at his hands.