Diomed straightway volunteers for the adventure, and out of the many chiefs who offer themselves as his comrade, he chooses Ulysses. So—not without due prayer to Heaven—valour and subtlety go forth together on their perilous errand.
Meanwhile the same idea has occurred to Hector; he too would learn the counsels of his enemies. One Dolon—a young warrior who has a fine taste for horses, but is otherwise of somewhat feminine type (Homer tells us he was the only brother of five sisters), and whose main qualification is fleetness of foot—is tempted to undertake the enterprise on a somewhat singular condition—that he shall have as his prize the more than mortal horses of Achilles, when, as he doubts not will be soon the case, the spoils of the conquered Greeks shall come to be divided. And Hector, with equal confidence, swears “by his sceptre” that they shall be his and none other’s. Wrapped in a cloak of wolfskin, and wearing a cap of marten’s fur instead of a helmet, he too steals out into the night. He does not escape the keen vision of Ulysses. The Greek spies crouch behind some dead bodies, and allow him to pass them, when they rise and cut off his retreat to the Trojan camp. At first he thinks they are Trojans, sent after him by Hector;
“But when they came a spear-cast off, or less,
He knew them for his foes, and slipt away
With lithe knees flying: and they behind him press.
As when with jaggèd teeth two dogs of prey
Hang steadily behind, to seize and slay,
Down the green woods, a wild fawn or a hare,
That shrieking flies them; on his track so lay
Odysseus and the son of Tydeus there,
Winding him out from Troy, and never swerved a hair.” (W.)
Their aim is to take him alive. Diomed at last gets within an easy spear-cast—
“Then, hurling, he so ruled his aim, the spear
Whizzed by the neck, then sank into the ground.
He, trembling in his teeth, and white with fear,
Stood: from his mouth there came a chattering sound.
They panting, as he wept, his arms enwound.
‘Take me alive, and sell me home,’ cried he;
‘Brass, iron, and fine gold are with me found.
Glad will my father render countless fee,
If living by the ships they bear him news of me.’” (W.)
Ulysses parleys with the unhappy youth, and drags from his terrified lips not only the secret of his errand, but the disposition of the Trojan forces,—most convenient information for their own movements. Especially, he tells them where they might find an easy prey, such as his own soul would love. Rhesus, king of the Thracian allies, has his camp apart—
“No steeds that e’er I saw,
For size and beauty, can with his compare;
Whiter than snow, and swifter than the wind.”
The unwilling treachery does not save his wretched life. Ulysses sarcastically admires his choice of a reward—
“High soared thy hopes indeed, that thought to win
The horses of Achilles; hard are they
For mortal man to harness or control,
Save for Achilles’ self, the goddess-born.”
Then—with the cruel indifference to human life which marks every one of Homer’s heroes—he severs his head from his body.