Thereupon he presented Ajax with his finely-chased sword with its graceful scabbard and Ajax gave him his purple belt. Thus they parted, each side welcoming his man with cries of triumphant joy. Agamemnon entertained the chieftains in his tent as usual and to-day he set the largest and choicest pieces before Ajax. When the meal was ended Nestor began: “Listen to my advice, chieftains. Let us pause to-morrow long enough to bury our dead. We will burn the bodies that each may gather the ashes of his friends to bear them home to his people. But here we will erect a great monument to mark the place where the brave warriors have fallen. I have also another proposal to make. What think ye if we should hastily construct a deep moat and a bulwark with a great gateway around our camp? Then we should be as safe in our tents as in a walled city.” The counsel of the old man was received with universal approval and Agamemnon determined to set to work at once.
The Trojan princes too were holding council to decide what they should do to force the Achaians to retire. Antenor, the wise, urged the return of Helen, but none would consent, not even Priam and Hector, to force Paris to give up his beloved wife. “I will gladly return the treasure which we took from Menelaus,” he said, “and give him plentifully of mine own, if that will propitiate the Achaians. But never will I give up Helen.”
“For the present let us be on our guard,” answered King Priam, “and to-morrow let Idæus go down and give Paris’ message to the Achaians and ask if they are not inclined to an armistice, until we have burned the dead and paid them funeral honors.”
Early the next morning Idæus went forth on his errand. He entered Agamemnon’s tent and delivered his message. The Greeks welcomed the proposal for a truce, but Paris’ offer was rejected with disdain. “Let no one take Paris’ property,” roared Diomedes. “We no longer fight for Paris’ wealth, nor even for Helen. Even though he should send her back, Troy shall fall, and truly the end is not far off!” Agamemnon and the other chieftains all signified their approval and the herald took the message back to the city.
Meanwhile the greater part of the Achaians were engaged in digging a moat and building a wall about the camp. The outcome showed that this precaution had not been unnecessary, for as soon as the battle was renewed the Achaians began to lose ground. Jupiter forbade the gods to take sides, and driving the celestial steeds himself, he descended from Olympus to Mount Ida, from whence he could observe the battlefield. The slaughter had begun early in the morning and already many Trojans had fallen, and still more Achaians, for the Trojans fought desperately.
A little past noon a threatening storm gathered on Mount Ida and the people recognized the presence of the father of the gods, for he alone had power over the flashing lightning. It was soon apparent whom he favored, for suddenly a terrible thunderbolt with blinding flashes struck the foremost ranks of the Achaians, so that all were panic-stricken and none dared remain on the field against the will of Jupiter. All fled to the ships, pale with terror. Nestor was about to follow, when an arrow from Paris’ bow laid one of his horses low, and if Diomedes had not come to his rescue, he would certainly have fallen a prey to the pursuing Trojans. Filled with renewed courage at the thunderbolts of Jove, which they took for favorable omens, they were like dogs on the track of the frightened flock. Hector called loudly upon his people to attack the wall and gave orders that firebrands be brought from the city to fire the ships. But the Trojans were dubious about attacking the Greeks within their fortifications. They were not well prepared for such an undertaking.
The Greeks now stood behind the wall, huddled close to the ships. The terrible thunderstorm had passed over and the sun shone once more. Agamemnon boarded a ship, where he might be seen and heard by all. The warriors were silent while he cried: “Shame upon you, sons of Argos, who in Lemnos boasted that ye would each fight one hundred Trojans! Now ye flee like frightened deer before a single man. Already Hector threatens to burn the ships. No wonder! It is your cowardice which makes him bold. Oh, father Jupiter, hast thou ever cursed a king as thou hast me? And yet how many fat cattle have I not offered up? On the way hither I did not pass by a single one of thy sacred temples where I did not stop to burn fat haunches in thine honor. Thou hast doubtless determined to destroy us here.”
Full of pity, the father of gods and men looked down upon him and made a sign that he would save the Danæans. He sent an eagle bearing a young deer in its beak, which it dropped as it flew high above the Greek camp, so that it fell palpitating before the altar of Jupiter on the ships. As soon as the Greeks saw this favorable sign, they pressed forward with fresh zeal into the Trojan lines. The heroes were like ravening wolves. Teucer of Salamis, who was skilful with the bow, remained beside his brother Ajax, who covered him with his shield whenever he was in danger. Every arrow hit its mark. Agamemnon looked on with delight, and clapping the youth on the shoulder, he cried: “Well done, my dear fellow! Thus shalt thou bring joy and glory to thy father in his old age. If the gods grant me the victory over Troy thy reward shall not fail—whether it be a tripod, a pair of horses and a chariot, or a beautiful slave girl.”
Soon afterward Hector’s chariot came galloping up. Teucer quickly set an arrow to his bow and aimed at the hero, but the missile went astray and Hector did not see the youth. Teucer shot another arrow, which pierced the charioteer’s breast. Hector sprang down, and just as Teucer was taking aim for the third time, a rock from Hector’s hand struck his breast and he sank on his knees. Ajax covered him with his shield until soldiers came up and carried the wounded youth away to his tent.
Juno and Athena, gazing sadly at the unfortunate outcome of the battle, ventured in their resentment to disobey the command of the father of the gods and go to the rescue of the hard-pressed Achaians. But Jupiter espied them and sent the gold-winged Iris to warn them to turn back or he would strike them with a thunderbolt that would shatter their chariot and teach them not to resist father and husband. Pouting, they obeyed, and in a rage arrived at Olympus and seated themselves in the great hall. Soon afterwards the mountain trembled at the tread of Jupiter, who entered the hall and seated himself on his golden throne with dark looks at his wife and daughter, whose glances were fixed defiantly on the ground.