Alexandria, also called Paris, challenges Menelaus—Helen and
Priam view the Achaeans from the wall—The covenant—Paris and
Menelaus fight, and Paris is worsted—Venus carries him off to
save him—Scene between him and Helen.
When the companies were thus arrayed, each under its own captain,
the Trojans advanced as a flight of wild-fowl or cranes that
scream overhead when rain and winter drive them over the flowing
waters of Oceanus to bring death and destruction on the Pygmies,
and they wrangle in the air as they fly; but the Achaeans marched
silently, in high heart, and minded to stand by one another.
As when the south wind spreads a curtain of mist upon the
mountain tops, bad for shepherds but better than night for
thieves, and a man can see no further than he can throw a stone,
even so rose the dust from under their feet as they made all
speed over the plain.
When they were close up with one another, Alexandrus came forward
as champion on the Trojan side. On his shoulders he bore the skin
of a panther, his bow, and his sword, and he brandished two
spears shod with bronze as a challenge to the bravest of the
Achaeans to meet him in single fight. Menelaus saw him thus
stride out before the ranks, and was glad as a hungry lion that
lights on the carcase of some goat or horned stag, and devours it
there and then, though dogs and youths set upon him. Even thus
was Menelaus glad when his eyes caught sight of Alexandrus, for
he deemed that now he should be revenged. He sprang, therefore,
from his chariot, clad in his suit of armour.
Alexandrus quailed as he saw Menelaus come forward, and shrank in
fear of his life under cover of his men. As one who starts back
affrighted, trembling and pale, when he comes suddenly upon a
serpent in some mountain glade, even so did Alexandrus plunge
into the throng of Trojan warriors, terror-stricken at the sight
of the son of Atreus.
Then Hector upbraided him. “Paris,” said he, “evil-hearted Paris,
fair to see, but woman-mad, and false of tongue, would that you
had never been born, or that you had died unwed. Better so, than
live to be disgraced and looked askance at. Will not the Achaeans
mock at us and say that we have sent one to champion us who is
fair to see but who has neither wit nor courage? Did you not,
such as you are, get your following together and sail beyond the
seas? Did you not from your a far country carry off a lovely
woman wedded among a people of warriors—to bring sorrow upon your
father, your city, and your whole country, but joy to your
enemies, and hang-dog shamefacedness to yourself? And now can you
not dare face Menelaus and learn what manner of man he is whose
wife you have stolen? Where indeed would be your lyre and your
love-tricks, your comely locks and your fair favour, when you
were lying in the dust before him? The Trojans are a weak-kneed
people, or ere this you would have had a shirt of stones for the
wrongs you have done them.”
And Alexandrus answered, “Hector, your rebuke is just. You are
hard as the axe which a shipwright wields at his work, and
cleaves the timber to his liking. As the axe in his hand, so keen
is the edge of your scorn. Still, taunt me not with the gifts
that golden Venus has given me; they are precious; let not a man
disdain them, for the gods give them where they are minded, and
none can have them for the asking. If you would have me do battle
with Menelaus, bid the Trojans and Achaeans take their seats,
while he and I fight in their midst for Helen and all her wealth.
Let him who shall be victorious and prove to be the better man
take the woman and all she has, to bear them to his home, but let
the rest swear to a solemn covenant of peace whereby you Trojans
shall stay here in Troy, while the others go home to Argos and
the land of the Achaeans.”
When Hector heard this he was glad, and went about among the
Trojan ranks holding his spear by the middle to keep them back,
and they all sat down at his bidding: but the Achaeans still
aimed at him with stones and arrows, till Agamemnon shouted to
them saying, “Hold, Argives, shoot not, sons of the Achaeans;
Hector desires to speak.”
They ceased taking aim and were still, whereon Hector spoke.
“Hear from my mouth,” said he, “Trojans and Achaeans, the saying
of Alexandrus, through whom this quarrel has come about. He bids
the Trojans and Achaeans lay their armour upon the ground, while
he and Menelaus fight in the midst of you for Helen and all her
wealth. Let him who shall be victorious and prove to be the
better man take the woman and all she has, to bear them to his
own home, but let the rest swear to a solemn covenant of peace.”
Thus he spoke, and they all held their peace, till Menelaus of
the loud battle-cry addressed them. “And now,” he said, “hear me
too, for it is I who am the most aggrieved. I deem that the
parting of Achaeans and Trojans is at hand, as well it may be,
seeing how much have suffered for my quarrel with Alexandrus and
the wrong he did me. Let him who shall die, die, and let the
others fight no more. Bring, then, two lambs, a white ram and a
black ewe, for Earth and Sun, and we will bring a third for Jove.
Moreover, you shall bid Priam come, that he may swear to the
covenant himself; for his sons are high-handed and ill to trust,
and the oaths of Jove must not be transgressed or taken in vain.
Young men’s minds are light as air, but when an old man comes he
looks before and after, deeming that which shall be fairest upon
both sides.”
The Trojans and Achaeans were glad when they heard this, for they
thought that they should now have rest. They backed their
chariots toward the ranks, got out of them, and put off their
armour, laying it down upon the ground; and the hosts were near
to one another with a little space between them. Hector sent two
messengers to the city to bring the lambs and to bid Priam come,
while Agamemnon told Talthybius to fetch the other lamb from the
ships, and he did as Agamemnon had said.
Meanwhile Iris went to Helen in the form of her sister-in-law,
wife of the son of Antenor, for Helicaon, son of Antenor, had
married Laodice, the fairest of Priam’s daughters. She found her
in her own room, working at a great web of purple linen, on which
she was embroidering the battles between Trojans and Achaeans,
that Mars had made them fight for her sake. Iris then came close
up to her and said, “Come hither, child, and see the strange
doings of the Trojans and Achaeans. Till now they have been
warring upon the plain, mad with lust of battle, but now they
have left off fighting, and are leaning upon their shields,
sitting still with their spears planted beside them. Alexandrus
and Menelaus are going to fight about yourself, and you are to be
the wife of him who is the victor.”
Thus spoke the goddess, and Helen’s heart yearned after her
former husband, her city, and her parents. She threw a white
mantle over her head, and hurried from her room, weeping as she
went, not alone, but attended by two of her handmaids, Aethrae,
daughter of Pittheus, and Clymene. And straightway they were at
the Scaean gates.
The two sages, Ucalegon and Antenor, elders of the people, were
seated by the Scaean gates, with Priam, Panthous, Thymoetes,
Lampus, Clytius, and Hiketaon of the race of Mars. These were too
old to fight, but they were fluent orators, and sat on the tower
like cicales that chirrup delicately from the boughs of some high
tree in a wood. When they saw Helen coming towards the tower,
they said softly to one another, “Small wonder that Trojans and
Achaeans should endure so much and so long, for the sake of a
woman so marvellously and divinely lovely. Still, fair though she
be, let them take her and go, or she will breed sorrow for us and
for our children after us.”
But Priam bade her draw nigh. “My child,” said he, “take your
seat in front of me that you may see your former husband, your
kinsmen and your friends. I lay no blame upon you, it is the
gods, not you who are to blame. It is they that have brought
about this terrible war with the Achaeans. Tell me, then, who is
yonder huge hero so great and goodly? I have seen men taller by a
head, but none so comely and so royal. Surely he must be a king.”
“Sir,” answered Helen, “father of my husband, dear and reverend
in my eyes, would that I had chosen death rather than to have
come here with your son, far from my bridal chamber, my friends,
my darling daughter, and all the companions of my girlhood. But
it was not to be, and my lot is one of tears and sorrow. As for
your question, the hero of whom you ask is Agamemnon, son of
Atreus, a good king and a brave soldier, brother-in-law as surely
as that he lives, to my abhorred and miserable self.”
The old man marvelled at him and said, “Happy son of Atreus,
child of good fortune. I see that the Achaeans are subject to you
in great multitudes. When I was in Phrygia I saw much horsemen,
the people of Otreus and of Mygdon, who were camping upon the
banks of the river Sangarius; I was their ally, and with them
when the Amazons, peers of men, came up against them, but even
they were not so many as the Achaeans.”
The old man next looked upon Ulysses; “Tell me,” he said, “who is
that other, shorter by a head than Agamemnon, but broader across
the chest and shoulders? His armour is laid upon the ground, and
he stalks in front of the ranks as it were some great woolly ram
ordering his ewes.”
And Helen answered, “He is Ulysses, a man of great craft, son of
Laertes. He was born in rugged Ithaca, and excels in all manner
of stratagems and subtle cunning.”
On this Antenor said, “Madam, you have spoken truly. Ulysses once
came here as envoy about yourself, and Menelaus with him. I
received them in my own house, and therefore know both of them by
sight and conversation. When they stood up in presence of the
assembled Trojans, Menelaus was the broader shouldered, but when
both were seated Ulysses had the more royal presence. After a
time they delivered their message, and the speech of Menelaus ran
trippingly on the tongue; he did not say much, for he was a man
of few words, but he spoke very clearly and to the point, though
he was the younger man of the two; Ulysses, on the other hand,
when he rose to speak, was at first silent and kept his eyes
fixed upon the ground. There was no play nor graceful movement of
his sceptre; he kept it straight and stiff like a man unpractised
in oratory—one might have taken him for a mere churl or
simpleton; but when he raised his voice, and the words came
driving from his deep chest like winter snow before the wind,
then there was none to touch him, and no man thought further of
what he looked like.”
Priam then caught sight of Ajax and asked, “Who is that great and
goodly warrior whose head and broad shoulders tower above the
rest of the Argives?”
“That,” answered Helen, “is huge Ajax, bulwark of the Achaeans,
and on the other side of him, among the Cretans, stands Idomeneus
looking like a god, and with the captains of the Cretans round
him. Often did Menelaus receive him as a guest in our house when
he came visiting us from Crete. I see, moreover, many other
Achaeans whose names I could tell you, but there are two whom I
can nowhere find, Castor, breaker of horses, and Pollux the
mighty boxer; they are children of my mother, and own brothers to
myself. Either they have not left Lacedaemon, or else, though
they have brought their ships, they will not show themselves in
battle for the shame and disgrace that I have brought upon them.”
She knew not that both these heroes were already lying under the
earth in their own land of Lacedaemon.
Meanwhile the heralds were bringing the holy oath-offerings
through the city—two lambs and a goatskin of wine, the gift of
earth; and Idaeus brought the mixing-bowl and the cups of gold.
He went up to Priam and said, “Son of Laomedon, the princes of
the Trojans and Achaeans bid you come down on to the plain and
swear to a solemn covenant. Alexandrus and Menelaus are to fight
for Helen in single combat, that she and all her wealth may go
with him who is the victor. We are to swear to a solemn covenant
of peace whereby we others shall dwell here in Troy, while the
Achaeans return to Argos and the land of the Achaeans.”
The old man trembled as he heard, but bade his followers yoke the
horses, and they made all haste to do so. He mounted the chariot,
gathered the reins in his hand, and Antenor took his seat beside
him; they then drove through the Scaean gates on to the plain.
When they reached the ranks of the Trojans and Achaeans they left
the chariot, and with measured pace advanced into the space
between the hosts.
Agamemnon and Ulysses both rose to meet them. The attendants
brought on the oath-offerings and mixed the wine in the
mixing-bowls; they poured water over the hands of the chieftains,
and the son of Atreus drew the dagger that hung by his sword, and
cut wool from the lambs’ heads; this the men-servants gave about
among the Trojan and Achaean princes, and the son of Atreus
lifted up his hands in prayer. “Father Jove,” he cried, “that
rulest in Ida, most glorious in power, and thou oh Sun, that
seest and givest ear to all things, Earth and Rivers, and ye who
in the realms below chastise the soul of him that has broken his
oath, witness these rites and guard them, that they be not vain.
If Alexandrus kills Menelaus, let him keep Helen and all her
wealth, while we sail home with our ships; but if Menelaus kills
Alexandrus, let the Trojans give back Helen and all that she has;
let them moreover pay such fine to the Achaeans as shall be
agreed upon, in testimony among those that shall be born
hereafter. And if Priam and his sons refuse such fine when
Alexandrus has fallen, then will I stay here and fight on till I
have got satisfaction.”
As he spoke he drew his knife across the throats of the victims,
and laid them down gasping and dying upon the ground, for the
knife had reft them of their strength. Then they poured wine from
the mixing-bowl into the cups, and prayed to the everlasting
gods, saying, Trojans and Achaeans among one another, “Jove, most
great and glorious, and ye other everlasting gods, grant that the
brains of them who shall first sin against their oaths—of them
and their children—may be shed upon the ground even as this wine,
and let their wives become the slaves of strangers.”
Thus they prayed, but not as yet would Jove grant them their
prayer. Then Priam, descendant of Dardanus, spoke, saying, “Hear
me, Trojans and Achaeans, I will now go back to the wind-beaten
city of Ilius: I dare not with my own eyes witness this fight
between my son and Menelaus, for Jove and the other immortals
alone know which shall fall.”
On this he laid the two lambs on his chariot and took his seat.
He gathered the reins in his hand, and Antenor sat beside him;
the two then went back to Ilius. Hector and Ulysses measured the
ground, and cast lots from a helmet of bronze to see which should
take aim first. Meanwhile the two hosts lifted up their hands and
prayed saying, “Father Jove, that rulest from Ida, most glorious
in power, grant that he who first brought about this war between
us may die, and enter the house of Hades, while we others remain
at peace and abide by our oaths.”
Great Hector now turned his head aside while he shook the helmet,
and the lot of Paris flew out first. The others took their
several stations, each by his horses and the place where his arms
were lying, while Alexandrus, husband of lovely Helen, put on his
goodly armour. First he greaved his legs with greaves of good
make and fitted with ancle-clasps of silver; after this he donned
the cuirass of his brother Lycaon, and fitted it to his own body;
he hung his silver-studded sword of bronze about his shoulders,
and then his mighty shield. On his comely head he set his helmet,
well wrought, with a crest of horse-hair that nodded menacingly
above it, and he grasped a redoubtable spear that suited his
hands. In like fashion Menelaus also put on his armour.
When they had thus armed, each amid his own people, they strode
fierce of aspect into the open space, and both Trojans and
Achaeans were struck with awe as they beheld them. They stood
near one another on the measured ground, brandishing their
spears, and each furious against the other. Alexandrus aimed
first, and struck the round shield of the son of Atreus, but the
spear did not pierce it, for the shield turned its point.
Menelaus next took aim, praying to Father Jove as he did so.
“King Jove,” he said, “grant me revenge on Alexandrus who has
wronged me; subdue him under my hand that in ages yet to come a
man may shrink from doing ill deeds in the house of his host.”
He poised his spear as he spoke, and hurled it at the shield of
Alexandrus. Through shield and cuirass it went, and tore the
shirt by his flank, but Alexandrus swerved aside, and thus saved
his life. Then the son of Atreus drew his sword, and drove at the
projecting part of his helmet, but the sword fell shivered in
three or four pieces from his hand, and he cried, looking towards
Heaven, “Father Jove, of all gods thou art the most despiteful; I
made sure of my revenge, but the sword has broken in my hand, my
spear has been hurled in vain, and I have not killed him.”
With this he flew at Alexandrus, caught him by the horse-hair
plume of his helmet, and began dragging him towards the Achaeans.
The strap of the helmet that went under his chin was choking him,
and Menelaus would have dragged him off to his own great glory
had not Jove’s daughter Venus been quick to mark and to break the
strap of ox-hide, so that the empty helmet came away in his hand.
This he flung to his comrades among the Achaeans, and was again
springing upon Alexandrus to run him through with a spear, but
Venus snatched him up in a moment (as a god can do), hid him
under a cloud of darkness, and conveyed him to his own
bedchamber.
Then she went to call Helen, and found her on a high tower with
the Trojan women crowding round her. She took the form of an old
woman who used to dress wool for her when she was still in
Lacedaemon, and of whom she was very fond. Thus disguised she
plucked her by perfumed robe and said, “Come hither; Alexandrus
says you are to go to the house; he is on his bed in his own
room, radiant with beauty and dressed in gorgeous apparel. No one
would think he had just come from fighting, but rather that he
was going to a dance, or had done dancing and was sitting down.”
With these words she moved the heart of Helen to anger. When she
marked the beautiful neck of the goddess, her lovely bosom, and
sparkling eyes, she marvelled at her and said, “Goddess, why do
you thus beguile me? Are you going to send me afield still
further to some man whom you have taken up in Phrygia or fair
Meonia? Menelaus has just vanquished Alexandrus, and is to take
my hateful self back with him. You are come here to betray me. Go
sit with Alexandrus yourself; henceforth be goddess no longer;
never let your feet carry you back to Olympus; worry about him
and look after him till he make you his wife, or, for the matter
of that, his slave—but me? I shall not go; I can garnish his bed
no longer; I should be a by-word among all the women of Troy.
Besides, I have trouble on my mind.”
Venus was very angry, and said, “Bold hussy, do not provoke me;
if you do, I shall leave you to your fate and hate you as much as
I have loved you. I will stir up fierce hatred between Trojans
and Achaeans, and you shall come to a bad end.”
At this Helen was frightened. She wrapped her mantle about her
and went in silence, following the goddess and unnoticed by the
Trojan women.
When they came to the house of Alexandrus the maid-servants set
about their work, but Helen went into her own room, and the
laughter-loving goddess took a seat and set it for her facing
Alexandrus. On this Helen, daughter of aegis-bearing Jove, sat
down, and with eyes askance began to upbraid her husband.
“So you are come from the fight,” said she; “would that you had
fallen rather by the hand of that brave man who was my husband.
You used to brag that you were a better man with hands and spear
than Menelaus. Go, then, and challenge him again—but I should
advise you not to do so, for if you are foolish enough to meet
him in single combat, you will soon fall by his spear.”
And Paris answered, “Wife, do not vex me with your reproaches.
This time, with the help of Minerva, Menelaus has vanquished me;
another time I may myself be victor, for I too have gods that
will stand by me. Come, let us lie down together and make
friends. Never yet was I so passionately enamoured of you as at
this moment—not even when I first carried you off from Lacedaemon
and sailed away with you—not even when I had converse with you
upon the couch of love in the island of Cranae was I so
enthralled by desire of you as now.” On this he led her towards
the bed, and his wife went with him.
Thus they laid themselves on the bed together; but the son of
Atreus strode among the throng, looking everywhere for
Alexandrus, and no man, neither of the Trojans nor of the allies,
could find him. If they had seen him they were in no mind to hide
him, for they all of them hated him as they did death itself.
Then Agamemnon, king of men, spoke, saying, “Hear me, Trojans,
Dardanians, and allies. The victory has been with Menelaus;
therefore give back Helen with all her wealth, and pay such fine
as shall be agreed upon, in testimony among them that shall be
born hereafter.”
Thus spoke the son of Atreus, and the Achaeans shouted in
applause.