{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_32326/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_32326","id":"gutenberg_32326","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/32326","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Adventure","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Mythology, Greek","Trojan War -- Literature and the war","Troy (Extinct city) -- Legends"],"text":"E-text prepared by Peter Vickers, Suzanne Shell, and the Project Gutenberg\nOnline Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)\n\n\n\nNote: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this\n      file which includes the original illustrations.\n      See 32326-h.htm or 32326-h.zip:\n      (https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/32326/pg32326-images.html)\n      or\n      (https://www.gutenberg.org/files/32326/32326-h.zip)\n\n\n\n\n\nTALES OF TROY AND GREECE\n\n[Illustration: THE STEALING OF HELEN.]\n\n[_See_ p. 15.]\n\n\nTALES OF TROY AND GREECE\n\nby\n\nANDREW LANG\n\nIllustrated by H. J. Ford\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nDover Publications, Inc.\nMineola, New York\n\nBibliographical Note\n\nThis Dover edition, first published in 2006, is an unabridged\nrepublication of the 1941 printing of the work originally published by\nLongmans, Green and Co., London and New York, in 1907. We have slightly\nrepositioned a few of the illustrations.\n\nManufactured in the United States of America\n\nDover Publications, Inc., 31 East 2nd Street, Mineola, N.Y. 11501\n\n\n\n\nTO\n\nH. RIDER HAGGARD\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n  _ULYSSES THE SACKER OF CITIES_\n                                                                   PAGE\n\n  I. THE BOYHOOD AND PARENTS OF ULYSSES                               1\n\n  II. HOW PEOPLE LIVED IN THE TIME OF ULYSSES                         5\n\n  III. THE WOOING OF HELEN OF THE FAIR HANDS                          9\n\n  IV. THE STEALING OF HELEN                                          13\n\n  V. TROJAN VICTORIES                                                30\n\n  VI. BATTLE AT THE SHIPS                                            38\n\n  VII. THE SLAYING AND AVENGING OF PATROCLUS                         45\n\n  VIII. THE CRUELTY OF ACHILLES, AND THE RANSOMING OF\n  HECTOR                                                             53\n\n  IX. HOW ULYSSES STOLE THE LUCK OF TROY                             56\n\n  X. THE BATTLES WITH THE AMAZONS AND MEMNON--THE\n  DEATH OF ACHILLES                                                  66\n\n  XI. ULYSSES SAILS TO SEEK THE SON OF ACHILLES--THE\n  VALOUR OF EURYPYLUS                                                79\n\n  XII. THE SLAYING OF PARIS                                          87\n\n  XIII. HOW ULYSSES INVENTED THE DEVICE OF THE HORSE\n  OF TREE                                                            92\n\n  XIV. THE END OF TROY AND THE SAVING OF HELEN                       96\n\n\n  _THE WANDERINGS OF ULYSSES_\n\n  I. THE SLAYING OF AGAMEMNON AND THE SORROWS\n  OF ULYSSES                                                        101\n\n  II. THE ENCHANTRESS CIRCE, THE LAND OF THE DEAD,\n  THE SIRENS                                                        110\n\n  III. THE WHIRLPOOL, THE SEA MONSTER, AND THE CATTLE\n  OF THE SUN                                                        118\n\n  IV. HOW TELEMACHUS WENT TO SEEK HIS FATHER                        122\n\n  V. HOW ULYSSES ESCAPED FROM THE ISLAND OF CALYPSO                 128\n\n  VI. HOW ULYSSES WAS WRECKED, YET REACHED\n  PHAEACIA                                                          133\n\n  VII. HOW ULYSSES CAME TO HIS OWN COUNTRY, AND\n  FOR SAFETY DISGUISED HIMSELF AS AN OLD\n  BEGGAR MAN                                                        145\n\n  VIII. ULYSSES COMES DISGUISED AS A BEGGAR TO HIS OWN\n  PALACE                                                            153\n\n  IX. THE SLAYING OF THE WOOERS                                     163\n\n  X. THE END                                                        168\n\n\n  _THE FLEECE OF GOLD_\n\n  I. THE CHILDREN OF THE CLOUD.                                     172\n\n  II. THE SEARCH FOR THE FLEECE                                     180\n\n  III. THE WINNING OF THE FLEECE                                    191\n\n\n  _THESEUS_\n\n  I. THE WEDDING OF AETHRA                                          201\n\n  II. THE BOYHOOD OF THESEUS                                        205\n\n  III. ADVENTURES OF THESEUS                                        211\n\n  IV. THESEUS FINDS HIS FATHER                                      226\n\n  V. HERALDS COME FOR TRIBUTE                                       233\n\n  VI. THESEUS IN CRETE                                              239\n\n  VII. THE SLAYING OF THE MINOTAUR                                  247\n\n\n  _PERSEUS_\n\n  I. THE PRISON OF DANAE                                            254\n\n  II. THE VOW OF PERSEUS                                            261\n\n  III. PERSEUS AND ANDROMEDA                                        279\n\n  IV. HOW PERSEUS AVENGED DANAE                                     284\n\n\n\n\nILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\n  THE STEALING OF HELEN                                  _Frontispiece_\n\n  MAP OF GREECE                                           _facing p. 1_\n\n  ULYSSES, WHEN A YOUTH, FIGHTS THE WILD BOAR\n  AND GETS HIS WOUND IN HIS THIGH                              \"      4\n\n  HELEN POINTS OUT THE CHIEF HEROES IN THE\n  GREEK HOST TO PRIAM                                          \"     28\n\n  ACHILLES PITIES PENTHESILEA AFTER SLAYING HER                \"     70\n\n  PARIS COMES BACK TO OENONE                                   \"     90\n\n  MENELAUS REFRAINS FROM KILLING HELEN AT THE\n  INTERCESSION OF ULYSSES                                      \"    100\n\n  CIRCE SENDS THE SWINE (THE COMPANIONS OF\n  ULYSSES) TO THE STYES                                        \"    112\n\n  THE ADVENTURE WITH SCYLLA                                    \"    120\n\n  CALYPSO TAKES PITY ON ULYSSES                                \"    130\n\n  HOW ULYSSES MET NAUSICAA                                     \"    136\n\n  ULYSSES SHOOTS THE FIRST ARROW AT THE WOOERS                 \"    164\n\n  KING ATHAMAS STEALS NEPHELE'S CLOTHES SO THAT\n  SHE CANNOT FLOAT AWAY WITH HER SISTERS                       \"    174\n\n  HOW THE SERPENT THAT GUARDED THE GOLDEN\n  FLEECE WAS SLAIN                                             \"    198\n\n  THESEUS TRIES TO LIFT THE STONE                              \"    208\n\n  HOW THESEUS SLEW THE MINOTAUR                                \"    248\n\n  PERSEUS IN THE GARDEN OF THE HESPERIDES                      \"    272\n\n  THE RESCUE OF ANDROMEDA                                      \"    282\n\n\n\n\nTALES OF TROY AND GREECE\n\n[Illustration: GREECE]\n\n\n\n\nTALES OF TROY\n\n\n\n\nULYSSES THE SACKER OF CITIES\n\n\n\n\nI\n\nTHE BOYHOOD AND PARENTS OF ULYSSES\n\n\nLong ago, in a little island called Ithaca, on the west coast of Greece,\nthere lived a king named Laertes. His kingdom was small and mountainous.\nPeople used to say that Ithaca 'lay like a shield upon the sea,' which\nsounds as if it were a flat country. But in those times shields were\nvery large, and rose at the middle into two peaks with a hollow between\nthem, so that Ithaca, seen far off in the sea, with her two chief\nmountain peaks, and a cloven valley between them, looked exactly like a\nshield. The country was so rough that men kept no horses, for, at that\ntime, people drove, standing up in little light chariots with two\nhorses; they never rode, and there was no cavalry in battle: men fought\nfrom chariots. When Ulysses, the son of Laertes, King of Ithaca grew up,\nhe never fought from a chariot, for he had none, but always on foot.\n\nIf there were no horses in Ithaca, there was plenty of cattle. The\nfather of Ulysses had flocks of sheep, and herds of swine, and wild\ngoats, deer, and hares lived in the hills and in the plains. The sea was\nfull of fish of many sorts, which men caught with nets, and with rod and\nline and hook.\n\nThus Ithaca was a good island to live in. The summer was long, and there\nwas hardly any winter; only a few cold weeks, and then the swallows came\nback, and the plains were like a garden, all covered with wild\nflowers--violets, lilies, narcissus, and roses. With the blue sky and\nthe blue sea, the island was beautiful. White temples stood on the\nshores; and the Nymphs, a sort of fairies, had their little shrines\nbuilt of stone, with wild rose-bushes hanging over them.\n\nOther islands lay within sight, crowned with mountains, stretching away,\none behind the other, into the sunset. Ulysses in the course of his life\nsaw many rich countries, and great cities of men, but, wherever he was,\nhis heart was always in the little isle of Ithaca, where he had learned\nhow to row, and how to sail a boat, and how to shoot with bow and arrow,\nand to hunt boars and stags, and manage his hounds.\n\nThe mother of Ulysses was called Anticleia: she was the daughter of King\nAutolycus, who lived near Parnassus, a mountain on the mainland. This\nKing Autolycus was the most cunning of men. He was a Master Thief, and\ncould steal a man's pillow from under his head, but he does not seem to\nhave been thought worse of for this. The Greeks had a God of Thieves,\nnamed Hermes, whom Autolycus worshipped, and people thought more good of\nhis cunning tricks than harm of his dishonesty. Perhaps these tricks of\nhis were only practised for amusement; however that may be, Ulysses\nbecame as artful as his grandfather; he was both the bravest and the\nmost cunning of men, but Ulysses never stole things, except once, as we\nshall hear, from the enemy in time of war. He showed his cunning in\nstratagems of war, and in many strange escapes from giants and\nman-eaters.\n\nSoon after Ulysses was born, his grandfather came to see his mother and\nfather in Ithaca. He was sitting at supper when the nurse of Ulysses,\nwhose name was Eurycleia, brought in the baby, and set him on the knees\nof Autolycus, saying, 'Find a name for your grandson, for he is a child\nof many prayers.'\n\n'I am very angry with many men and women in the world,' said Autolycus,\n'so let the child's name be _A Man of Wrath_,' which, in Greek, was\nOdysseus. So the child was called Odysseus by his own people, but the\nname was changed into Ulysses, and we shall call him Ulysses.\n\nWe do not know much about Ulysses when he was a little boy, except that\nhe used to run about the garden with his father, asking questions, and\nbegging that he might have fruit trees 'for his very own.' He was a\ngreat pet, for his parents had no other son, so his father gave him\nthirteen pear trees, and forty fig trees, and promised him fifty rows of\nvines, all covered with grapes, which he could eat when he liked,\nwithout asking leave of the gardener. So he was not tempted to steal\nfruit, like his grandfather.\n\nWhen Autolycus gave Ulysses his name, he said that he must come to stay\nwith him, when he was a big boy, and he would get splendid presents.\nUlysses was told about this, so, when he was a tall lad, he crossed the\nsea and drove in his chariot to the old man's house on Mount Parnassus.\nEverybody welcomed him, and next day his uncles and cousins and he went\nout to hunt a fierce wild boar, early in the morning. Probably Ulysses\ntook his own dog, named Argos, the best of hounds, of which we shall\nhear again, long afterwards, for the dog lived to be very old. Soon the\nhounds came on the scent of a wild boar, and after them the men went,\nwith spears in their hands, and Ulysses ran foremost, for he was already\nthe swiftest runner in Greece.\n\nHe came on a great boar lying in a tangled thicket of boughs and\nbracken, a dark place where the sun never shone, nor could the rain\npierce through. Then the noise of the men's shouts and the barking of\nthe dogs awakened the boar, and up he sprang, bristling all over his\nback, and with fire shining from his eyes. In rushed Ulysses first of\nall, with his spear raised to strike, but the boar was too quick for\nhim, and ran in, and drove his sharp tusk sideways, ripping up the thigh\nof Ulysses. But the boar's tusk missed the bone, and Ulysses sent his\nsharp spear into the beast's right shoulder, and the spear went clean\nthrough, and the boar fell dead, with a loud cry. The uncles of Ulysses\nbound up his wound carefully, and sang a magical song over it, as the\nFrench soldiers wanted to do to Joan of Arc when the arrow pierced her\nshoulder at the siege of Orleans. Then the blood ceased to flow, and\nsoon Ulysses was quite healed of his wound. They thought that he would\nbe a good warrior, and gave him splendid presents, and when he went home\nagain he told all that had happened to his father and mother, and his\nnurse, Eurycleia. But there was always a long white mark or scar above\nhis left knee, and about that scar we shall hear again, many years\nafterwards.\n\n[Illustration: ULYSSES, WHEN A YOUTH, FIGHTS THE WILD BOAR AND GETS HIS\nWOUND IN HIS THIGH.]\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nHOW PEOPLE LIVED IN THE TIME OF ULYSSES\n\n\nWhen Ulysses was a young man he wished to marry a princess of his own\nrank. Now there were at that time many kings in Greece, and you must be\ntold how they lived. Each king had his own little kingdom, with his\nchief town, walled with huge walls of enormous stone. Many of these\nwalls are still standing, though the grass has grown over the ruins of\nmost of them, and in later years, men believed that those walls must\nhave been built by giants, the stones are so enormous. Each king had\nnobles under him, rich men, and all had their palaces, each with its\ncourtyard, and its long hall, where the fire burned in the midst, and\nthe King and Queen sat beside it on high thrones, between the four chief\ncarved pillars that held up the roof. The thrones were made of cedar\nwood and ivory, inlaid with gold, and there were many other chairs and\nsmall tables for guests, and the walls and doors were covered with\nbronze plates, and gold and silver, and sheets of blue glass. Sometimes\nthey were painted with pictures of bull hunts, and a few of these\npictures may still be seen. At night torches were lit, and placed in the\nhands of golden figures of boys, but all the smoke of fire and torches\nescaped by a hole in the roof, and made the ceiling black. On the walls\nhung swords and spears and helmets and shields, which needed to be often\ncleaned from the stains of the smoke. The minstrel or poet sat beside\nthe King and Queen, and, after supper he struck his harp, and sang\nstories of old wars. At night the King and Queen slept in their own\nplace, and the women in their own rooms; the princesses had their\nchambers upstairs, and the young princes had each his room built\nseparate in the courtyard.\n\nThere were bath rooms with polished baths, where guests were taken when\nthey arrived dirty from a journey. The guests lay at night on beds in\nthe portico, for the climate was warm. There were plenty of servants,\nwho were usually slaves taken in war, but they were very kindly treated,\nand were friendly with their masters. No coined money was used; people\npaid for things in cattle, or in weighed pieces of gold. Rich men had\nplenty of gold cups, and gold-hilted swords, and bracelets, and\nbrooches. The kings were the leaders in war and judges in peace, and did\nsacrifices to the Gods, killing cattle and swine and sheep, on which\nthey afterwards dined.\n\nThey dressed in a simple way, in a long smock of linen or silk, which\nfell almost to the feet, but was tucked up into a belt round the waist,\nand worn longer or shorter, as they happened to choose. Where it needed\nfastening at the throat, golden brooches were used, beautifully made,\nwith safety pins. This garment was much like the plaid that the\nHighlanders used to wear, with its belt and brooches. Over it the Greeks\nwore great cloaks of woollen cloth when the weather was cold, but these\nthey did not use in battle. They fastened their breastplates, in war,\nover their smocks, and had other armour covering the lower parts of the\nbody, and leg armour called 'greaves'; while the great shield which\nguarded the whole body from throat to ankles was carried by a broad belt\nslung round the neck. The sword was worn in another belt, crossing the\nshield belt. They had light shoes in peace, and higher and heavier boots\nin war, or for walking across country.\n\nThe women wore the smock, with more brooches and jewels than the men;\nand had head coverings, with veils, and mantles over all, and necklaces\nof gold and amber, earrings, and bracelets of gold or of bronze. The\ncolours of their dresses were various, chiefly white and purple; and,\nwhen in mourning, they wore very dark blue, not black. All the armour,\nand the sword blades and spearheads were made, not of steel or iron, but\nof bronze, a mixture of copper and tin. The shields were made of several\nthicknesses of leather, with a plating of bronze above; tools, such as\naxes and ploughshares, were either of iron or bronze; and so were the\nblades of knives and daggers.\n\nTo us the houses and way of living would have seemed very splendid, and\nalso, in some ways, rather rough. The palace floors, at least in the\nhouse of Ulysses, were littered with bones and feet of the oxen slain\nfor food, but this happened when Ulysses had been long from home. The\nfloor of the hall in the house of Ulysses was not boarded with planks,\nor paved with stone: it was made of clay; for he was a poor king of\nsmall islands. The cooking was coarse: a pig or sheep was killed,\nroasted and eaten immediately. We never hear of boiling meat, and though\npeople probably ate fish, we do not hear of their doing so, except when\nno meat could be procured. Still some people must have liked them; for\nin the pictures that were painted or cut in precious stones in these\ntimes we see the half-naked fisherman walking home, carrying large fish.\n\nThe people were wonderful workers of gold and bronze. Hundreds of their\ngolden jewels have been found in their graves, but probably these were\nmade and buried two or three centuries before the time of Ulysses. The\ndagger blades had pictures of fights with lions, and of flowers, inlaid\non them, in gold of various colours, and in silver; nothing so beautiful\nis made now. There are figures of men hunting bulls on some of the gold\ncups, and these are wonderfully life-like. The vases and pots of\nearthenware were painted in charming patterns: in short, it was a\nsplendid world to live in.\n\nThe people believed in many Gods, male and female, under the chief God,\nZeus. The Gods were thought to be taller than men, and immortal, and to\nlive in much the same way as men did, eating, drinking, and sleeping in\nglorious palaces. Though they were supposed to reward good men, and to\npunish people who broke their oaths and were unkind to strangers, there\nwere many stories told in which the Gods were fickle, cruel, selfish,\nand set very bad examples to men. How far these stories were believed is\nnot sure; it is certain that 'all men felt a need of the Gods,' and\nthought that they were pleased by good actions and displeased by evil.\nYet, when a man felt that his behaviour had been bad, he often threw the\nblame on the Gods, and said that they had misled him, which really meant\nno more than that 'he could not help it.'\n\nThere was a curious custom by which the princes bought wives from the\nfathers of the princesses, giving cattle and gold, and bronze and iron,\nbut sometimes a prince got a wife as the reward for some very brave\naction. A man would not give his daughter to a wooer whom she did not\nlove, even if he offered the highest price, at least this must have been\nthe general rule, for husbands and wives were very fond of each other,\nand of their children, and husbands always allowed their wives to rule\nthe house, and give their advice on everything. It was thought a very\nwicked thing for a woman to like another man better than her husband,\nand there were few such wives, but among them was the most beautiful\nwoman who ever lived.\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nTHE WOOING OF HELEN OF THE FAIR HANDS\n\n\nThis was the way in which people lived when Ulysses was young, and\nwished to be married. The worst thing in the way of life was that the\ngreatest and most beautiful princesses might be taken prisoners, and\ncarried off as slaves to the towns of the men who had killed their\nfathers and husbands. Now at that time one lady was far the fairest in\nthe world: namely, Helen, daughter of King Tyndarus. Every young prince\nheard of her and desired to marry her; so her father invited them all to\nhis palace, and entertained them, and found out what they would give.\nAmong the rest Ulysses went, but his father had a little kingdom, a\nrough island, with others near it, and Ulysses had not a good chance. He\nwas not tall; though very strong and active, he was a short man with\nbroad shoulders, but his face was handsome, and, like all the princes,\nhe wore long yellow hair, clustering like a hyacinth flower. His manner\nwas rather hesitating, and he seemed to speak very slowly at first,\nthough afterwards his words came freely. He was good at everything a man\ncan do; he could plough, and build houses, and make ships, and he was\nthe best archer in Greece, except one, and could bend the great bow of a\ndead king, Eurytus, which no other man could string. But he had no\nhorses, and had no great train of followers; and, in short, neither\nHelen nor her father thought of choosing Ulysses for her husband out of\nso many tall, handsome young princes, glittering with gold ornaments.\nStill, Helen was very kind to Ulysses, and there was great friendship\nbetween them, which was fortunate for her in the end.\n\nTyndarus first made all the princes take an oath that they would stand\nby the prince whom he chose, and would fight for him in all his\nquarrels. Then he named for her husband Menelaus, King of Lacedaemon. He\nwas a very brave man, but not one of the strongest; he was not such a\nfighter as the gigantic Aias, the tallest and strongest of men; or as\nDiomede, the friend of Ulysses; or as his own brother, Agamemnon, the\nKing of the rich city of Mycenae, who was chief over all other princes,\nand general of the whole army in war. The great lions carved in stone\nthat seemed to guard his city are still standing above the gate through\nwhich Agamemnon used to drive his chariot.\n\nThe man who proved to be the best fighter of all, Achilles, was not\namong the lovers of Helen, for he was still a boy, and his mother,\nThetis of the silver feet, a goddess of the sea, had sent him to be\nbrought up as a girl, among the daughters of Lycomedes of Scyros, in an\nisland far away. Thetis did this because Achilles was her only child,\nand there was a prophecy that, if he went to the wars, he would win the\ngreatest glory, but die very young, and never see his mother again. She\nthought that if war broke out he would not be found hiding in girl's\ndress, among girls, far away.\n\nSo at last, after thinking over the matter for long, Tyndarus gave fair\nHelen to Menelaus, the rich King of Lacedaemon; and her twin sister\nClytaemnestra, who was also very beautiful, was given to King Agamemnon,\nthe chief over all the princes. They all lived very happily together at\nfirst, but not for long.\n\nIn the meantime King Tyndarus spoke to his brother Icarius, who had a\ndaughter named Penelope. She also was very pretty, but not nearly so\nbeautiful as her cousin, fair Helen, and we know that Penelope was not\nvery fond of her cousin. Icarius, admiring the strength and wisdom of\nUlysses, gave him his daughter Penelope to be his wife, and Ulysses\nloved her very dearly, no man and wife were ever dearer to each other.\nThey went away together to rocky Ithaca, and perhaps Penelope was not\nsorry that a wide sea lay between her home and that of Helen; for Helen\nwas not only the fairest woman that ever lived in the world, but she was\nso kind and gracious and charming that no man could see her without\nloving her. When she was only a child, the famous prince Theseus, whose\nstory is to be told later, carried her away to his own city of Athens,\nmeaning to marry her when she grew up, and, even at that time, there was\na war for her sake, for her brothers followed Theseus with an army, and\nfought him, and brought her home.\n\nShe had fairy gifts: for instance, she had a great red jewel, called\n'the Star,' and when she wore it red drops seemed to fall from it and\nvanished before they touched and stained her white breast--so white that\npeople called her 'the Daughter of the Swan.' She could speak in the\nvery voice of any man or woman, so folk also named her Echo, and it was\nbelieved that she could neither grow old nor die, but would at last pass\naway to the Elysian plain and the world's end, where life is easiest for\nmen. No snow comes thither, nor great storm, nor any rain; but always\nthe river of Ocean that rings round the whole earth sends forth the west\nwind to blow cool on the people of King Rhadamanthus of the fair hair.\nThese were some of the stories that men told of fair Helen, but Ulysses\nwas never sorry that he had not the fortune to marry her, so fond he was\nof her cousin, his wife, Penelope, who was very wise and good.\n\nWhen Ulysses brought his wife home they lived, as the custom was, in the\npalace of his father, King Laertes, but Ulysses, with his own hands,\nbuilt a chamber for Penelope and himself. There grew a great olive tree\nin the inner court of the palace, and its stem was as large as one of\nthe tall carved pillars of the hall. Round about this tree Ulysses built\nthe chamber, and finished it with close-set stones, and roofed it over,\nand made close-fastening doors. Then he cut off all the branches of the\nolive tree, and smoothed the trunk, and shaped it into the bed-post, and\nmade the bedstead beautiful with inlaid work of gold and silver and\nivory. There was no such bed in Greece, and no man could move it from\nits place, and this bed comes again into the story, at the very end.\n\nNow time went by, and Ulysses and Penelope had one son called\nTelemachus; and Eurycleia, who had been his father's nurse, took care of\nhim. They were all very happy, and lived in peace in rocky Ithaca, and\nUlysses looked after his lands, and flocks, and herds, and went hunting\nwith his dog Argos, the swiftest of hounds.\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nTHE STEALING OF HELEN\n\n\nThis happy time did not last long, and Telemachus was still a baby, when\nwar arose, so great and mighty and marvellous as had never been known in\nthe world. Far across the sea that lies on the east of Greece, there\ndwelt the rich King Priam. His town was called Troy, or Ilios, and it\nstood on a hill near the seashore, where are the straits of Hellespont,\nbetween Europe and Asia; it was a great city surrounded by strong walls,\nand its ruins are still standing. The kings could make merchants who\npassed through the straits pay toll to them, and they had allies in\nThrace, a part of Europe opposite Troy, and Priam was chief of all\nprinces on his side of the sea, as Agamemnon was chief king in Greece.\nPriam had many beautiful things; he had a vine made of gold, with golden\nleaves and clusters, and he had the swiftest horses, and many strong and\nbrave sons; the strongest and bravest was named Hector, and the youngest\nand most beautiful was named Paris.\n\nThere was a prophecy that Priam's wife would give birth to a burning\ntorch, so, when Paris was born, Priam sent a servant to carry the baby\ninto a wild wood on Mount Ida, and leave him to die or be eaten by\nwolves and wild cats. The servant left the child, but a shepherd found\nhim, and brought him up as his own son. The boy became as beautiful, for\na boy, as Helen was for a girl, and was the best runner, and hunter, and\narcher among the country people. He was loved by the beautiful Oenone,\na nymph--that is, a kind of fairy--who dwelt in a cave among the woods\nof Ida. The Greeks and Trojans believed in these days that such fair\nnymphs haunted all beautiful woodland places, and the mountains, and\nwells, and had crystal palaces, like mermaids, beneath the waves of the\nsea. These fairies were not mischievous, but gentle and kind. Sometimes\nthey married mortal men, and Oenone was the bride of Paris, and hoped\nto keep him for her own all the days of his life.\n\nIt was believed that she had the magical power of healing wounded men,\nhowever sorely they were hurt. Paris and Oenone lived most happily\ntogether in the forest; but one day, when the servants of Priam had\ndriven off a beautiful bull that was in the herd of Paris, he left the\nhills to seek it, and came into the town of Troy. His mother, Hecuba,\nsaw him, and looking at him closely, perceived that he wore a ring which\nshe had tied round her baby's neck when he was taken away from her soon\nafter his birth. Then Hecuba, beholding him so beautiful, and knowing\nhim to be her son, wept for joy, and they all forgot the prophecy that\nhe would be a burning torch of fire, and Priam gave him a house like\nthose of his brothers, the Trojan princes.\n\nThe fame of beautiful Helen reached Troy, and Paris quite forgot unhappy\nOenone, and must needs go to see Helen for himself. Perhaps he meant\nto try to win her for his wife, before her marriage. But sailing was\nlittle understood in these times, and the water was wide, and men were\noften driven for years out of their course, to Egypt, and Africa, and\nfar away into the unknown seas, where fairies lived in enchanted\nislands, and cannibals dwelt in caves of the hills.\n\nParis came much too late to have a chance of marrying Helen; however, he\nwas determined to see her, and he made his way to her palace beneath\nthe mountain Taygetus, beside the clear swift river Eurotas. The\nservants came out of the hall when they heard the sound of wheels and\nhorses' feet, and some of them took the horses to the stables, and\ntilted the chariots against the gateway, while others led Paris into the\nhall, which shone like the sun with gold and silver. Then Paris and his\ncompanions were led to the baths, where they were bathed, and clad in\nnew clothes, mantles of white, and robes of purple, and next they were\nbrought before King Menelaus, and he welcomed them kindly, and meat was\nset before them, and wine in cups of gold. While they were talking,\nHelen came forth from her fragrant chamber, like a Goddess, her maidens\nfollowing her, and carrying for her an ivory distaff with\nviolet-coloured wool, which she span as she sat, and heard Paris tell\nhow far he had travelled to see her who was so famous for her beauty\neven in countries far away.\n\nThen Paris knew that he had never seen, and never could see, a lady so\nlovely and gracious as Helen as she sat and span, while the red drops\nfell and vanished from the ruby called the Star; and Helen knew that\namong all the princes in the world there was none so beautiful as Paris.\nNow some say that Paris, by art magic, put on the appearance of\nMenelaus, and asked Helen to come sailing with him, and that she,\nthinking he was her husband, followed him, and he carried her across the\nwide waters of Troy, away from her lord and her one beautiful little\ndaughter, the child Hermione. And others say that the Gods carried Helen\nherself off to Egypt, and that they made in her likeness a beautiful\nghost, out of flowers and sunset clouds, whom Paris bore to Troy, and\nthis they did to cause war between Greeks and Trojans. Another story is\nthat Helen and her bower maiden and her jewels were seized by force,\nwhen Menelaus was out hunting. It is only certain that Paris and Helen\ndid cross the seas together, and that Menelaus and little Hermione were\nleft alone in the melancholy palace beside the Eurotas. Penelope, we\nknow for certain, made no excuses for her beautiful cousin, but hated\nher as the cause of her own sorrows and of the deaths of thousands of\nmen in war, for all the Greek princes were bound by their oath to fight\nfor Menelaus against any one who injured him and stole his wife away.\nBut Helen was very unhappy in Troy, and blamed herself as bitterly as\nall the other women blamed her, and most of all Oenone, who had been\nthe love of Paris. The men were much more kind to Helen, and were\ndetermined to fight to the death rather than lose the sight of her\nbeauty among them.\n\nThe news of the dishonour done to Menelaus and to all the princes of\nGreece ran through the country like fire through a forest. East and west\nand south and north went the news: to kings in their castles on the\nhills, and beside the rivers and on cliffs above the sea. The cry came\nto ancient Nestor of the white beard at Pylos, Nestor who had reigned\nover two generations of men, who had fought against the wild folk of the\nhills, and remembered the strong Heracles, and Eurytus of the black bow\nthat sang before the day of battle.\n\nThe cry came to black-bearded Agamemnon, in his strong town called\n'golden Mycenae,' because it was so rich; it came to the people in\nThisbe, where the wild doves haunt; and it came to rocky Pytho, where is\nthe sacred temple of Apollo and the maid who prophesies. It came to\nAias, the tallest and strongest of men, in his little isle of Salamis;\nand to Diomede of the loud war-cry, the bravest of warriors, who held\nArgos and Tiryns of the black walls of huge stones, that are still\nstanding. The summons came to the western islands and to Ulysses in\nIthaca, and even far south to the great island of Crete of the hundred\ncities, where Idomeneus ruled in Cnossos; Idomeneus, whose ruined palace\nmay still be seen with the throne of the king, and pictures painted on\nthe walls, and the King's own draught-board of gold and silver, and\nhundreds of tablets of clay, on which are written the lists of royal\ntreasures. Far north went the news to Pelasgian Argos, and Hellas, where\nthe people of Peleus dwelt, the Myrmidons; but Peleus was too old to\nfight, and his boy, Achilles, dwelt far away, in the island of Scyros,\ndressed as a girl, among the daughters of King Lycomedes. To many\nanother town and to a hundred islands went the bitter news of\napproaching war, for all princes knew that their honour and their oaths\ncompelled them to gather their spearmen, and bowmen, and slingers from\nthe fields and the fishing, and to make ready their ships, and meet King\nAgamemnon in the harbour of Aulis, and cross the wide sea to besiege\nTroy town.\n\nNow the story is told that Ulysses was very unwilling to leave his\nisland and his wife Penelope, and little Telemachus; while Penelope had\nno wish that he should pass into danger, and into the sight of Helen of\nthe fair hands. So it is said that when two of the princes came to\nsummon Ulysses, he pretended to be mad, and went ploughing the sea sand\nwith oxen, and sowing the sand with salt. Then the prince Palamedes took\nthe baby Telemachus from the arms of his nurse, Eurycleia, and laid him\nin the line of the furrow, where the ploughshare would strike him and\nkill him. But Ulysses turned the plough aside, and they cried that he\nwas not mad, but sane, and he must keep his oath, and join the fleet at\nAulis, a long voyage for him to sail, round the stormy southern Cape of\nMaleia.\n\nWhether this tale be true or not, Ulysses did go, leading twelve black\nships, with high beaks painted red at prow and stern. The ships had\noars, and the warriors manned the oars, to row when there was no wind.\nThere was a small raised deck at each end of the ships; on these decks\nmen stood to fight with sword and spear when there was a battle at sea.\nEach ship had but one mast, with a broad lugger sail, and for anchors\nthey had only heavy stones attached to cables. They generally landed at\nnight, and slept on the shore of one of the many islands, when they\ncould, for they greatly feared to sail out of sight of land.\n\nThe fleet consisted of more than a thousand ships, each with fifty\nwarriors, so the army was of more than fifty thousand men. Agamemnon had\na hundred ships, Diomede had eighty, Nestor had ninety, the Cretans with\nIdomeneus, had eighty, Menelaus had sixty; but Aias and Ulysses, who\nlived in small islands, had only twelve ships apiece. Yet Aias was so\nbrave and strong, and Ulysses so brave and wise, that they were ranked\namong the greatest chiefs and advisers of Agamemnon, with Menelaus,\nDiomede, Idomeneus, Nestor, Menestheus of Athens, and two or three\nothers. These chiefs were called the Council, and gave advice to\nAgamemnon, who was commander-in-chief. He was a brave fighter, but so\nanxious and fearful of losing the lives of his soldiers that Ulysses and\nDiomede were often obliged to speak to him very severely. Agamemnon was\nalso very insolent and greedy, though, when anybody stood up to him, he\nwas ready to apologise, for fear the injured chief should renounce his\nservice and take away his soldiers.\n\nNestor was much respected because he remained brave, though he was too\nold to be very useful in battle. He generally tried to make peace when\nthe princes quarrelled with Agamemnon. He loved to tell long stories\nabout his great deeds when he was young, and he wished the chiefs to\nfight in old-fashioned ways.\n\nFor instance, in his time the Greeks had fought in clan regiments, and\nthe princely men had never dismounted in battle, but had fought in\nsquadrons of chariots, but now the owners of chariots fought on foot,\neach man for himself, while his squire kept the chariot near him to\nescape on if he had to retreat. Nestor wished to go back to the good old\nway of chariot charges against the crowds of foot soldiers of the enemy.\nIn short, he was a fine example of the old-fashioned soldier.\n\nAias, though so very tall, strong, and brave, was rather stupid. He\nseldom spoke, but he was always ready to fight, and the last to retreat.\nMenelaus was weak of body, but as brave as the best, or more brave, for\nhe had a keen sense of honour, and would attempt what he had not the\nstrength to do. Diomede and Ulysses were great friends, and always\nfought side by side, when they could, and helped each other in the most\ndangerous adventures.\n\nThese were the chiefs who led the great Greek armada from the harbour of\nAulis. A long time had passed, after the flight of Helen, before the\nlarge fleet could be collected, and more time went by in the attempt to\ncross the sea to Troy. There were tempests that scattered the ships, so\nthey were driven back to Aulis to refit; and they fought, as they went\nout again, with the peoples of unfriendly islands, and besieged their\ntowns. What they wanted most of all was to have Achilles with them, for\nhe was the leader of fifty ships and 2,500 men, and he had magical\narmour made, men said, for his father, by Hephaestus, the God of\narmour-making and smithy work.\n\nAt last the fleet came to the Isle of Scyros, where they suspected that\nAchilles was concealed. King Lycomedes received the chiefs kindly, and\nthey saw all his beautiful daughters dancing and playing at ball, but\nAchilles was still so young and slim and so beautiful that they did not\nknow him among the others. There was a prophecy that they could not take\nTroy without him, and yet they could not find him out. Then Ulysses had\na plan. He blackened his eyebrows and beard and put on the dress of a\nPhoenician merchant. The Phoenicians were a people who lived near the\nJews, and were of the same race, and spoke much the same language, but,\nunlike the Jews, who, at that time were farmers in Palestine, tilling\nthe ground, and keeping flocks and herds, the Phoenicians were the\ngreatest of traders and sailors, and stealers of slaves. They carried\ncargoes of beautiful cloths, and embroideries, and jewels of gold, and\nnecklaces of amber, and sold these everywhere about the shores of Greece\nand the islands.\n\nUlysses then dressed himself like a Phoenician pedlar, with his pack on\nhis back: he only took a stick in his hand, his long hair was turned up,\nand hidden under a red sailor's cap, and in this figure he came,\nstooping beneath his pack, into the courtyard of King Lycomedes. The\ngirls heard that a pedlar had come, and out they all ran, Achilles with\nthe rest, to watch the pedlar undo his pack. Each chose what she liked\nbest: one took a wreath of gold; another a necklace of gold and amber;\nanother earrings; a fourth a set of brooches, another a dress of\nembroidered scarlet cloth; another a veil; another a pair of bracelets;\nbut at the bottom of the pack lay a great sword of bronze, the hilt\nstudded with golden nails. Achilles seized the sword. 'This is for me!'\nhe said, and drew the sword from the gilded sheath, and made it whistle\nround his head.\n\n'You are Achilles, Peleus' son!' said Ulysses; 'and you are to be the\nchief warrior of the Achaeans,' for the Greeks then called themselves\nAchaeans. Achilles was only too glad to hear these words, for he was\nquite tired of living among maidens. Ulysses led him into the hall where\nthe chiefs were sitting at their wine, and Achilles was blushing like\nany girl.\n\n'Here is the Queen of the Amazons,' said Ulysses--for the Amazons were a\nrace of warlike maidens--'or rather here is Achilles, Peleus' son, with\nsword in hand.' Then they all took his hand, and welcomed him, and he\nwas clothed in man's dress, with the sword by his side, and presently\nthey sent him back with ten ships to his home. There his mother, Thetis,\nof the silver feet, the goddess of the sea, wept over him, saying, 'My\nchild, thou hast the choice of a long and happy and peaceful life here\nwith me, or of a brief time of war and undying renown. Never shall I see\nthee again in Argos if thy choice is for war.' But Achilles chose to die\nyoung, and to be famous as long as the world stands. So his father gave\nhim fifty ships, with Patroclus, who was older than he, to be his\nfriend, and with an old man, Phoenix, to advise him; and his mother gave\nhim the glorious armour that the God had made for his father, and the\nheavy ashen spear that none but he could wield, and he sailed to join\nthe host of the Achaeans, who all praised and thanked Ulysses that had\nfound for them such a prince. For Achilles was the fiercest fighter of\nthem all, and the swiftest-footed man, and the most courteous prince,\nand the gentlest with women and children, but he was proud and high of\nheart, and when he was angered his anger was terrible.\n\nThe Trojans would have had no chance against the Greeks if only the men\nof the city of Troy had fought to keep Helen of the fair hands. But they\nhad allies, who spoke different languages, and came to fight for them\nboth from Europe and from Asia. On the Trojan as well as on the Greek\nside were people called Pelasgians, who seem to have lived on both\nshores of the sea. There were Thracians, too, who dwelt much further\nnorth than Achilles, in Europe and beside the strait of Hellespont,\nwhere the narrow sea runs like a river. There were warriors of Lycia,\nled by Sarpedon and Glaucus; there were Carians, who spoke in a strange\ntongue; there were Mysians and men from Alybe, which was called 'the\nbirthplace of silver,' and many other peoples sent their armies, so that\nthe war was between Eastern Europe, on one side, and Western Asia Minor\non the other. The people of Egypt took no part in the war: the Greeks\nand Islesmen used to come down in their ships and attack the Egyptians\nas the Danes used to invade England. You may see the warriors from the\nislands, with their horned helmets, in old Egyptian pictures.\n\nThe commander-in-chief, as we say now, of the Trojans was Hector, the\nson of Priam. He was thought a match for any one of the Greeks, and was\nbrave and good. His brothers also were leaders, but Paris preferred to\nfight from a distance with bow and arrows. He and Pandarus, who dwelt on\nthe slopes of Mount Ida, were the best archers in the Trojan army. The\nprinces usually fought with heavy spears, which they threw at each\nother, and with swords, leaving archery to the common soldiers who had\nno armour of bronze. But Teucer, Meriones, and Ulysses were the best\narchers of the Achaeans. People called Dardanians were led by Aeneas,\nwho was said to be the son of the most beautiful of the goddesses.\nThese, with Sarpedon and Glaucus, were the most famous of the men who\nfought for Troy.\n\nTroy was a strong town on a hill: Mount Ida lay behind it, and in front\nwas a plain sloping to the sea shore. Through this plain ran two\nbeautiful clear rivers, and there were scattered here and there what you\nwould have taken for steep knolls, but they were really mounds piled up\nover the ashes of warriors who had died long ago. On these mounds\nsentinels used to stand and look across the water to give warning if the\nGreek fleet drew near, for the Trojans had heard that it was on its way.\nAt last the fleet came in view, and the sea was black with ships, the\noarsmen pulling with all their might for the honour of being the first\nto land. The race was won by the ship of the prince Protesilaus, who was\nfirst of all to leap on shore, but as he leaped he was struck to the\nheart by an arrow from the bow of Paris. This must have seemed a good\nomen to the Trojans, and to the Greeks evil, but we do not hear that the\nlanding was resisted in great force, any more than that of Norman\nWilliam was, when he invaded England.\n\nThe Greeks drew up all their ships on shore, and the men camped in huts\nbuilt in front of the ships. There was thus a long row of huts with the\nships behind them, and in these huts the Greeks lived all through the\nten years that the siege of Troy lasted. In these days they do not seem\nto have understood how to conduct a siege. You would have expected the\nGreeks to build towers and dig trenches all round Troy, and from the\ntowers watch the roads, so that provisions might not be brought in from\nthe country. This is called 'investing' a town, but the Greeks never\ninvested Troy. Perhaps they had not men enough; at all events the place\nremained open, and cattle could always be driven in to feed the warriors\nand the women and children.\n\nMoreover, the Greeks for long never seem to have tried to break down one\nof the gates, nor to scale the walls, which were very high, with\nladders. On the other hand, the Trojans and allies never ventured to\ndrive the Greeks into the sea; they commonly remained within the walls\nor skirmished just beneath them. The older men insisted on this way of\nfighting, in spite of Hector, who always wished to attack and storm the\ncamp of the Greeks. Neither side had machines for throwing heavy stones,\nsuch as the Romans used later, and the most that the Greeks did was to\nfollow Achilles and capture small neighbouring cities, and take the\nwomen for slaves, and drive the cattle. They got provisions and wine\nfrom the Phoenicians, who came in ships, and made much profit out of the\nwar.\n\nIt was not till the tenth year that the war began in real earnest, and\nscarcely any of the chief leaders had fallen. Fever came upon the\nGreeks, and all day the camp was black with smoke, and all night shone\nwith fire from the great piles of burning wood, on which the Greeks\nburned their dead, whose bones they then buried under hillocks of earth.\nMany of these hillocks are still standing on the plain of Troy. When the\nplague had raged for ten days, Achilles called an assembly of the whole\narmy, to try to find out why the Gods were angry. They thought that the\nbeautiful God Apollo (who took the Trojan side) was shooting invisible\narrows at them from his silver bow, though fevers in armies are usually\ncaused by dirt and drinking bad water. The great heat of the sun, too,\nmay have helped to cause the disease; but we must tell the story as the\nGreeks told it themselves. So Achilles spoke in the assembly, and\nproposed to ask some prophet why Apollo was angry. The chief prophet was\nCalchas. He rose and said that he would declare the truth if Achilles\nwould promise to protect him from the anger of any prince whom the truth\nmight offend.\n\nAchilles knew well whom Calchas meant. Ten days before, a priest of\nApollo had come to the camp and offered ransom for his daughter\nChryseis, a beautiful girl, whom Achilles had taken prisoner, with many\nothers, when he captured a small town. Chryseis had been given as a\nslave to Agamemnon, who always got the best of the plunder because he\nwas chief king, whether he had taken part in the fighting or not. As a\nrule he did not. To Achilles had been given another girl, Briseis, of\nwhom he was very fond. Now when Achilles had promised to protect\nCalchas, the prophet spoke out, and boldly said, what all men knew\nalready, that Apollo caused the plague because Agamemnon would not\nreturn Chryseis, and had insulted her father, the priest of the God.\n\nOn hearing this, Agamemnon was very angry. He said that he would send\nChryseis home, but that he would take Briseis away from Achilles. Then\nAchilles was drawing his great sword from the sheath to kill Agamemnon,\nbut even in his anger he knew that this was wrong, so he merely called\nAgamemnon a greedy coward, 'with face of dog and heart of deer,' and he\nswore that he and his men would fight no more against the Trojans. Old\nNestor tried to make peace, and swords were not drawn, but Briseis was\ntaken away from Achilles, and Ulysses put Chryseis on board of his ship\nand sailed away with her to her father's town, and gave her up to her\nfather. Then her father prayed to Apollo that the plague might cease,\nand it did cease--when the Greeks had cleansed their camp, and purified\nthemselves and cast their filth into the sea.\n\nWe know how fierce and brave Achilles was, and we may wonder that he did\nnot challenge Agamemnon to fight a duel. But the Greeks never fought\nduels, and Agamemnon was believed to be chief king by right divine.\nAchilles went alone to the sea shore when his dear Briseis was led away,\nand he wept, and called to his mother, the silver-footed lady of the\nwaters. Then she arose from the grey sea, like a mist, and sat down\nbeside her son, and stroked his hair with her hand, and he told her all\nhis sorrows. So she said that she would go up to the dwelling of the\nGods, and pray Zeus, the chief of them all, to make the Trojans win a\ngreat battle, so that Agamemnon should feel his need of Achilles, and\nmake amends for his insolence, and do him honour.\n\nThetis kept her promise, and Zeus gave his word that the Trojans should\ndefeat the Greeks. That night Zeus sent a deceitful dream to Agamemnon.\nThe dream took the shape of old Nestor, and said that Zeus would give\nhim victory that day. While he was still asleep, Agamemnon was full of\nhope that he would instantly take Troy, but, when he woke, he seems not\nto have been nearly so confident, for in place of putting on his armour,\nand bidding the Greeks arm themselves, he merely dressed in his robe and\nmantle, took his sceptre, and went and told the chiefs about his dream.\nThey did not feel much encouraged, so he said that he would try the\ntemper of the army. He would call them together, and propose to return\nto Greece; but, if the soldiers took him at his word, the other chiefs\nwere to stop them. This was a foolish plan, for the soldiers were\nwearying for beautiful Greece, and their homes, and wives and children.\nTherefore, when Agamemnon did as he had said, the whole army rose, like\nthe sea under the west wind, and, with a shout, they rushed to the\nships, while the dust blew in clouds from under their feet. Then they\nbegan to launch their ships, and it seems that the princes were carried\naway in the rush, and were as eager as the rest to go home.\n\nBut Ulysses only stood in sorrow and anger beside his ship, and never\nput hand to it, for he felt how disgraceful it was to run away. At last\nhe threw down his mantle, which his herald Eurybates of Ithaca, a\nround-shouldered, brown, curly-haired man, picked up, and he ran to find\nAgamemnon, and took his sceptre, a gold-studded staff, like a marshal's\nbaton, and he gently told the chiefs whom he met that they were doing a\nshameful thing; but he drove the common soldiers back to the place of\nmeeting with the sceptre. They all returned, puzzled and chattering, but\none lame, bandy-legged, bald, round-shouldered, impudent fellow, named\nThersites, jumped up and made an insolent speech, insulting the princes,\nand advising the army to run away. Then Ulysses took him and beat him\ntill the blood came, and he sat down, wiping away his tears, and looking\nso foolish that the whole army laughed at him, and cheered Ulysses when\nhe and Nestor bade them arm and fight. Agamemnon still believed a good\ndeal in his dream, and prayed that he might take Troy that very day, and\nkill Hector. Thus Ulysses alone saved the army from a cowardly retreat;\nbut for him the ships would have been launched in an hour. But the\nGreeks armed and advanced in full force, all except Achilles and his\nfriend Patroclus with their two or three thousand men. The Trojans also\ntook heart, knowing that Achilles would not fight, and the armies\napproached each other. Paris himself, with two spears and a bow, and\nwithout armour, walked into the space between the hosts, and challenged\nany Greek prince to single combat. Menelaus, whose wife Paris had\ncarried away, was as glad as a hungry lion when he finds a stag or a\ngoat, and leaped in armour from his chariot, but Paris turned and slunk\naway, like a man when he meets a great serpent on a narrow path in the\nhills. Then Hector rebuked Paris for his cowardice, and Paris was\nashamed and offered to end the war by fighting Menelaus. If he himself\nfell, the Trojans must give up Helen and all her jewels; if Menelaus\nfell, the Greeks were to return without fair Helen. The Greeks accepted\nthis plan, and both sides disarmed themselves to look on at the fight in\ncomfort, and they meant to take the most solemn oaths to keep peace till\nthe combat was lost and won, and the quarrel settled. Hector sent into\nTroy for two lambs, which were to be sacrificed when the oaths were\ntaken.\n\nIn the meantime Helen of the fair hands was at home working at a great\npurple tapestry on which she embroidered the battles of the Greeks and\nTrojans. It was just like the tapestry at Bayeux on which Norman ladies\nembroidered the battles in the Norman Conquest of England. Helen was\nvery fond of embroidering, like poor Mary, Queen of Scots, when a\nprisoner in Loch Leven Castle. Probably the work kept both Helen and\nMary from thinking of their past lives and their sorrows.\n\n[Illustration: HELEN POINTS OUT THE CHIEF HEROES IN THE GREEK HOST TO\nPRIAM.]\n\nWhen Helen heard that her husband was to fight Paris, she wept, and\nthrew a shining veil over her head, and with her two bower maidens went\nto the roof of the gate tower, where king Priam was sitting with the old\nTrojan chiefs. They saw her and said that it was small blame to fight\nfor so beautiful a lady, and Priam called her 'dear child,' and said, 'I\ndo not blame you, I blame the Gods who brought about this war.' But\nHelen said that she wished she had died before she left her little\ndaughter and her husband, and her home: 'Alas! shameless me!' Then she\ntold Priam the names of the chief Greek warriors, and of Ulysses, who\nwas shorter by a head than Agamemnon but broader in chest and shoulders.\nShe wondered that she could not see her own two brothers, Castor and\nPolydeuces, and thought that they kept aloof in shame for her sin; but\nthe green grass covered their graves, for they had both died in battle,\nfar away in Lacedaemon, their own country.\n\nThen the lambs were sacrificed, and the oaths were taken, and Paris put\non his brother's armour: helmet, breastplate, shield, and leg-armour.\nLots were drawn to decide whether Paris or Menelaus should throw his\nspear first, and, as Paris won, he threw his spear, but the point was\nblunted against the shield of Menelaus. But when Menelaus threw his\nspear it went clean through the shield of Paris, and through the side of\nhis breastplate, but only grazed his robe. Menelaus drew his sword, and\nrushed in, and smote at the crest of the helmet of Paris, but his bronze\nblade broke into four pieces. Menelaus caught Paris by the horsehair\ncrest of his helmet, and dragged him towards the Greeks, but the\nchin-strap broke, and Menelaus turning round threw the helmet into the\nranks of the Greeks. But when Menelaus looked again for Paris, with a\nspear in his hand, he could see him nowhere! The Greeks believed that\nthe beautiful goddess Aphrodite, whom the Romans called Venus, hid him\nin a thick cloud of darkness and carried him to his own house, where\nHelen of the fair hands found him and said to him, 'Would that thou\nhadst perished, conquered by that great warrior who was my lord! Go\nforth again and challenge him to fight thee face to face.' But Paris had\nno more desire to fight, and the Goddess threatened Helen, and compelled\nher to remain with him in Troy, coward as he had proved himself. Yet on\nother days Paris fought well; it seems that he was afraid of Menelaus\nbecause, in his heart, he was ashamed of himself.\n\nMeanwhile Menelaus was seeking for Paris everywhere, and the Trojans,\nwho hated him, would have shown his hiding place. But they knew not\nwhere he was, and the Greeks claimed the victory, and thought that, as\nParis had the worst of the fight, Helen would be restored to them, and\nthey would all sail home.\n\n\n\n\nV\n\nTROJAN VICTORIES\n\n\nThe war might now have ended, but an evil and foolish thought came to\nPandarus, a prince of Ida, who fought for the Trojans. He chose to shoot\nan arrow at Menelaus, contrary to the sworn vows of peace, and the arrow\npierced the breastplate of Menelaus through the place where the clasped\nplates meet, and drew his blood. Then Agamemnon, who loved his brother\ndearly, began to lament, saying that, if he died, the army would all go\nhome and Trojans would dance on the grave of Menelaus. 'Do not alarm\nall our army,' said Menelaus, 'the arrow has done me little harm;' and\nso it proved, for the surgeon easily drew the arrow out of the wound.\n\nThen Agamemnon hastened here and there, bidding the Greeks arm and\nattack the Trojans, who would certainly be defeated, for they had broken\nthe oaths of peace. But with his usual insolence he chose to accuse\nUlysses and Diomede of cowardice, though Diomede was as brave as any\nman, and Ulysses had just prevented the whole army from launching their\nships and going home. Ulysses answered him with spirit, but Diomede said\nnothing at the moment; later he spoke his mind. He leaped from his\nchariot, and all the chiefs leaped down and advanced in line, the\nchariots following them, while the spearmen and bowmen followed the\nchariots. The Trojan army advanced, all shouting in their different\nlanguages, but the Greeks came on silently. Then the two front lines\nclashed, shield against shield, and the noise was like the roaring of\nmany flooded torrents among the hills. When a man fell he who had slain\nhim tried to strip off his armour, and his friends fought over his body\nto save the dead from this dishonour.\n\nUlysses fought above a wounded friend, and drove his spear through head\nand helmet of a Trojan prince, and everywhere men were falling beneath\nspears and arrows and heavy stones which the warriors threw. Here\nMenelaus speared the man who built the ships with which Paris had sailed\nto Greece; and the dust rose like a cloud, and a mist went up from the\nfighting men, while Diomede stormed across the plain like a river in\nflood, leaving dead bodies behind him as the river leaves boughs of\ntrees and grass to mark its course. Pandarus wounded Diomede with an\narrow, but Diomede slew him, and the Trojans were being driven in\nflight, when Sarpedon and Hector turned and hurled themselves on the\nGreeks; and even Diomede shuddered when Hector came on, and charged at\nUlysses, who was slaying Trojans as he went, and the battle swayed this\nway and that, and the arrows fell like rain.\n\nBut Hector was sent into the city to bid the women pray to the goddess\nAthene for help, and he went to the house of Paris, whom Helen was\nimploring to go and fight like a man, saying: 'Would that the winds had\nwafted me away, and the tides drowned me, shameless that I am, before\nthese things came to pass!'\n\nThen Hector went to see his dear wife, Andromache, whose father had been\nslain by Achilles early in the siege, and he found her and her nurse\ncarrying her little boy, Hector's son, and like a star upon her bosom\nlay his beautiful and shining golden head. Now, while Helen urged Paris\nto go into the fight, Andromache prayed Hector to stay with her in the\ntown, and fight no more lest he should be slain and leave her a widow,\nand the boy an orphan, with none to protect him. The army, she said,\nshould come back within the walls, where they had so long been safe, not\nfight in the open plain. But Hector answered that he would never shrink\nfrom battle, 'yet I know this in my heart, the day shall come for holy\nTroy to be laid low, and Priam and the people of Priam. But this and my\nown death do not trouble me so much as the thought of you, when you\nshall be carried as a slave to Greece, to spin at another woman's\nbidding, and bear water from a Grecian well. May the heaped up earth of\nmy tomb cover me ere I hear thy cries and the tale of thy captivity.'\n\nThen Hector stretched out his hands to his little boy, but the child was\nafraid when he saw the great glittering helmet of his father and the\nnodding horsehair crest. So Hector laid his helmet on the ground and\ndandled the child in his arms, and tried to comfort his wife, and said\ngood-bye for the last time, for he never came back to Troy alive. He\nwent on his way back to the battle, and Paris went with him, in glorious\narmour, and soon they were slaying the princes of the Greeks.\n\nThe battle raged till nightfall, and in the night the Greeks and Trojans\nburned their dead; and the Greeks made a trench and wall round their\ncamp, which they needed for safety now that the Trojans came from their\ntown and fought in the open plain.\n\nNext day the Trojans were so successful that they did not retreat behind\ntheir walls at night, but lit great fires on the plain: a thousand\nfires, with fifty men taking supper round each of them, and drinking\ntheir wine to the music of flutes. But the Greeks were much discouraged,\nand Agamemnon called the whole army together, and proposed that they\nshould launch their ships in the night and sail away home. Then Diomede\nstood up, and said: 'You called me a coward lately. You are the coward!\nSail away if you are afraid to remain here, but all the rest of us will\nfight till we take Troy town.'\n\nThen all shouted in praise of Diomede, and Nestor advised them to send\nfive hundred young men, under his own son, Thrasymedes, to watch the\nTrojans, and guard the new wall and the ditch, in case the Trojans\nattacked them in the darkness. Next Nestor counselled Agamemnon to send\nUlysses and Aias to Achilles, and promise to give back Briseis, and rich\npresents of gold, and beg pardon for his insolence. If Achilles would\nbe friends again with Agamemnon, and fight as he used to fight, the\nTrojans would soon be driven back into the town.\n\nAgamemnon was very ready to beg pardon, for he feared that the whole\narmy would be defeated, and cut off from their ships, and killed or kept\nas slaves. So Ulysses and Aias and the old tutor of Achilles, Phoenix,\nwent to Achilles and argued with him, praying him to accept the rich\npresents, and help the Greeks. But Achilles answered that he did not\nbelieve a word that Agamemnon said; Agamemnon had always hated him, and\nalways would hate him. No; he would not cease to be angry, he would sail\naway next day with all his men, and he advised the rest to come with\nhim. 'Why be so fierce?' said tall Aias, who seldom spoke. 'Why make so\nmuch trouble about one girl? We offer you seven girls, and plenty of\nother gifts.'\n\nThen Achilles said that he would not sail away next day, but he would\nnot fight till the Trojans tried to burn his own ships, and there he\nthought that Hector would find work enough to do. This was the most that\nAchilles would promise, and all the Greeks were silent when Ulysses\ndelivered his message. But Diomede arose and said that, with or without\nAchilles, fight they must; and all men, heavy at heart, went to sleep in\ntheir huts or in the open air at their doors.\n\nAgamemnon was much too anxious to sleep. He saw the glow of the thousand\nfires of the Trojans in the dark, and heard their merry flutes, and he\ngroaned and pulled out his long hair by handfuls. When he was tired of\ncrying and groaning and tearing his hair, he thought that he would go\nfor advice to old Nestor. He threw a lion skin, the coverlet of his bed,\nover his shoulder, took his spear, went out and met Menelaus--for he,\ntoo, could not sleep--and Menelaus proposed to send a spy among the\nTrojans, if any man were brave enough to go, for the Trojan camp was all\nalight with fires, and the adventure was dangerous. Therefore the two\nwakened Nestor and the other chiefs, who came just as they were, wrapped\nin the fur coverlets of their beds, without any armour. First they\nvisited the five hundred young men set to watch the wall, and then they\ncrossed the ditch and sat down outside and considered what might be\ndone. 'Will nobody go as a spy among the Trojans?' said Nestor; he meant\nwould none of the young men go. Diomede said that he would take the risk\nif any other man would share it with him, and, if he might choose a\ncompanion, he would take Ulysses.\n\n'Come, then, let us be going,' said Ulysses, 'for the night is late, and\nthe dawn is near.' As these two chiefs had no armour on, they borrowed\nshields and leather caps from the young men of the guard, for leather\nwould not shine as bronze helmets shine in the firelight. The cap lent\nto Ulysses was strengthened outside with rows of boars' tusks. Many of\nthese tusks, shaped for this purpose, have been found, with swords and\narmour, in a tomb in Mycenae, the town of Agamemnon. This cap which was\nlent to Ulysses had once been stolen by his grandfather, Autolycus, who\nwas a Master Thief, and he gave it as a present to a friend, and so,\nthrough several hands, it had come to young Meriones of Crete, one of\nthe five hundred guards, who now lent it to Ulysses. So the two princes\nset forth in the dark, so dark it was that though they heard a heron\ncry, they could not see it as it flew away.\n\nWhile Ulysses and Diomede stole through the night silently, like two\nwolves among the bodies of dead men, the Trojan leaders met and\nconsidered what they ought to do. They did not know whether the Greeks\nhad set sentinels and outposts, as usual, to give warning if the enemy\nwere approaching; or whether they were too weary to keep a good watch;\nor whether perhaps they were getting ready their ships to sail homewards\nin the dawn. So Hector offered a reward to any man who would creep\nthrough the night and spy on the Greeks; he said he would give the spy\nthe two best horses in the Greek camp.\n\nNow among the Trojans there was a young man named Dolon, the son of a\nrich father, and he was the only boy in a family of five sisters. He was\nugly, but a very swift runner, and he cared for horses more than for\nanything else in the world. Dolon arose and said, 'If you will swear to\ngive me the horses and chariot of Achilles, son of Peleus, I will steal\nto the hut of Agamemnon and listen and find out whether the Greeks mean\nto fight or flee.' Hector swore to give these horses, which were the\nbest in the world, to Dolon, so he took his bow and threw a grey wolf's\nhide over his shoulders, and ran towards the ships of the Greeks.\n\nNow Ulysses saw Dolon as he came, and said to Diomede, 'Let us suffer\nhim to pass us, and then do you keep driving him with your spear towards\nthe ships, and away from Troy.' So Ulysses and Diomede lay down among\nthe dead men who had fallen in the battle, and Dolon ran on past them\ntowards the Greeks. Then they rose and chased him as two greyhounds\ncourse a hare, and, when Dolon was near the sentinels, Diomede cried\n'Stand, or I will slay you with my spear!' and he threw his spear just\nover Dolon's shoulder. So Dolon stood still, green with fear, and with\nhis teeth chattering. When the two came up, he cried, and said that his\nfather was a rich man, who would pay much gold, and bronze, and iron for\nhis ransom.\n\nUlysses said, 'Take heart, and put death out of your mind, and tell us\nwhat you are doing here.' Dolon said that Hector had promised him the\nhorses of Achilles if he would go and spy on the Greeks. 'You set your\nhopes high,' said Ulysses, 'for the horses of Achilles are not earthly\nsteeds, but divine; a gift of the Gods, and Achilles alone can drive\nthem. But, tell me, do the Trojans keep good watch, and where is Hector\nwith his horses?' for Ulysses thought that it would be a great adventure\nto drive away the horses of Hector.\n\n'Hector is with the chiefs, holding council at the tomb of Ilus,' said\nDolon; 'but no regular guard is set. The people of Troy, indeed, are\nround their watch fires, for they have to think of the safety of their\nwives and children; but the allies from far lands keep no watch, for\ntheir wives and children are safe at home.' Then he told where all the\ndifferent peoples who fought for Priam had their stations; but, said he,\n'if you want to steal horses, the best are those of Rhesus, King of the\nThracians, who has only joined us to-night. He and his men are asleep at\nthe furthest end of the line, and his horses are the best and greatest\nthat ever I saw: tall, white as snow, and swift as the wind, and his\nchariot is adorned with gold and silver, and golden is his armour. Now\ntake me prisoner to the ships, or bind me and leave me here while you go\nand try whether I have told you truth or lies.'\n\n'No,' said Diomede, 'if I spare your life you may come spying again,'\nand he drew his sword and smote off the head of Dolon. They hid his cap\nand bow and spear where they could find them easily, and marked the\nspot, and went through the night to the dark camp of King Rhesus, who\nhad no watch-fire and no guards. Then Diomede silently stabbed each\nsleeping man to the heart, and Ulysses seized the dead by the feet and\nthrew them aside lest they should frighten the horses, which had never\nbeen in battle, and would shy if they were led over the bodies of dead\nmen. Last of all Diomede killed King Rhesus, and Ulysses led forth his\nhorses, beating them with his bow, for he had forgotten to take the whip\nfrom the chariot. Then Ulysses and Diomede leaped on the backs of the\nhorses, as they had not time to bring away the chariot, and they\ngalloped to the ships, stopping to pick up the spear, and bow, and cap\nof Dolon. They rode to the princes, who welcomed them, and all laughed\nfor glee when they saw the white horses and heard that King Rhesus was\ndead, for they guessed that all his army would now go home to Thrace.\nThis they must have done, for we never hear of them in the battles that\nfollowed, so Ulysses and Diomede deprived the Trojans of thousands of\nmen. The other princes went to bed in good spirits, but Ulysses and\nDiomede took a swim in the sea, and then went into hot baths, and so to\nbreakfast, for rosy-fingered Dawn was coming up the sky.\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\nBATTLE AT THE SHIPS\n\n\nWith dawn Agamemnon awoke, and fear had gone out of his heart. He put on\nhis armour, and arrayed the chiefs on foot in front of their chariots,\nand behind them came the spearmen, with the bowmen and slingers on the\nwings of the army. Then a great black cloud spread over the sky, and\nred was the rain that fell from it. The Trojans gathered on a height in\nthe plain, and Hector, shining in armour, went here and there, in front\nand rear, like a star that now gleams forth and now is hidden in a\ncloud.\n\nThe armies rushed on each other and hewed each other down, as reapers\ncut their way through a field of tall corn. Neither side gave ground,\nthough the helmets of the bravest Trojans might be seen deep in the\nranks of the Greeks; and the swords of the bravest Greeks rose and fell\nin the ranks of the Trojans, and all the while the arrows showered like\nrain. But at noon-day, when the weary woodman rests from cutting trees,\nand takes his dinner in the quiet hills, the Greeks of the first line\nmade a charge, Agamemnon running in front of them, and he speared two\nTrojans, and took their breastplates, which he laid in his chariot, and\nthen he speared one brother of Hector and struck another down with his\nsword, and killed two more who vainly asked to be made prisoners of war.\nFootmen slew footmen, and chariot men slew chariot men, and they broke\ninto the Trojan line as fire falls on a forest in a windy day, leaping\nand roaring and racing through the trees. Many an empty chariot did the\nhorses hurry madly through the field, for the charioteers were lying\ndead, with the greedy vultures hovering above them, flapping their wide\nwings. Still Agamemnon followed and slew the hindmost Trojans, but the\nrest fled till they came to the gates, and the oak tree that grew\noutside the gates, and there they stopped.\n\nBut Hector held his hands from fighting, for in the meantime he was\nmaking his men face the enemy and form up in line and take breath, and\nwas encouraging them, for they had retreated from the wall of the\nGreeks across the whole plain, past the hill that was the tomb of Ilus,\na king of old, and past the place of the wild fig-tree. Much ado had\nHector to rally the Trojans, but he knew that when men do turn again\nthey are hard to beat. So it proved, for when the Trojans had rallied\nand formed in line, Agamemnon slew a Thracian chief who had come to\nfight for Troy before King Rhesus came. But the eldest brother of the\nslain man smote Agamemnon through the arm with his spear, and, though\nAgamemnon slew him in turn, his wound bled much and he was in great\npain, so he leaped into his chariot and was driven back to the ships.\n\nThen Hector gave the word to charge, as a huntsman cries on his hounds\nagainst a lion, and he rushed forward at the head of the Trojan line,\nslaying as he went. Nine chiefs of the Greeks he slew, and fell upon the\nspearmen and scattered them, as the spray of the waves is scattered by\nthe wandering wind.\n\nNow the ranks of the Greeks were broken, and they would have been driven\namong their ships and killed without mercy, had not Ulysses and Diomede\nstood firm in the centre, and slain four Trojan leaders. The Greeks\nbegan to come back and face their enemies in line of battle again,\nthough Hector, who had been fighting on the Trojan right, rushed against\nthem. But Diomede took good aim with his spear at the helmet of Hector,\nand struck it fairly. The spear-point did not go through the helmet, but\nHector was stunned and fell; and, when he came to himself, he leaped\ninto his chariot, and his squire drove him against the Pylians and\nCretans, under Nestor and Idomeneus, who were on the left wing of the\nGreek army. Then Diomede fought on till Paris, who stood beside the\npillar on the hillock that was the tomb of old King Ilus, sent an arrow\nclean through his foot. Ulysses went and stood in front of Diomede, who\nsat down, and Ulysses drew the arrow from his foot, and Diomede stepped\ninto his chariot and was driven back to the ships.\n\nUlysses was now the only Greek chief that still fought in the centre.\nThe Greeks all fled, and he was alone in the crowd of Trojans, who\nrushed on him as hounds and hunters press round a wild boar that stands\nat bay in a wood. 'They are cowards that flee from the fight,' said\nUlysses to himself; 'but I will stand here, one man against a\nmultitude.' He covered the front of his body with his great shield, that\nhung by a belt round his neck, and he smote four Trojans and wounded a\nfifth. But the brother of the wounded man drove a spear through the\nshield and breastplate of Ulysses, and tore clean through his side. Then\nUlysses turned on this Trojan, and he fled, and Ulysses sent a spear\nthrough his shoulder and out at his breast, and he died. Ulysses dragged\nfrom his own side the spear that had wounded him, and called thrice with\na great voice to the other Greeks, and Menelaus and Aias rushed to\nrescue him, for many Trojans were round him, like jackals round a\nwounded stag that a man has struck with an arrow. But Aias ran and\ncovered the wounded Ulysses with his huge shield till he could climb\ninto the chariot of Menelaus, who drove him back to the ships.\n\nMeanwhile, Hector was slaying the Greeks on the left of their battle,\nand Paris struck the Greek surgeon, Machaon, with an arrow; and\nIdomeneus bade Nestor put Machaon in his chariot and drive him to\nNestor's hut, where his wound might be tended. Meanwhile, Hector sped to\nthe centre of the line, where Aias was slaying the Trojans; but\nEurypylus, a Greek chief, was wounded by an arrow from the bow of\nParis, and his friends guarded him with their shields and spears.\n\nThus the best of the Greeks were wounded and out of the battle, save\nAias, and the spearmen were in flight. Meanwhile Achilles was standing\nby the stern of his ship watching the defeat of the Greeks, but when he\nsaw Machaon being carried past, sorely wounded, in the chariot of\nNestor, he bade his friend Patroclus, whom he loved better than all the\nrest, to go and ask how Machaon did. He was sitting drinking wine with\nNestor when Patroclus came, and Nestor told Patroclus how many of the\nchiefs were wounded, and though Patroclus was in a hurry Nestor began a\nvery long story about his own great deeds of war, done when he was a\nyoung man. At last he bade Patroclus tell Achilles that, if he would not\nfight himself, he should at least send out his men under Patroclus, who\nshould wear the splendid armour of Achilles. Then the Trojans would\nthink that Achilles himself had returned to the battle, and they would\nbe afraid, for none of them dared to meet Achilles hand to hand.\n\nSo Patroclus ran off to Achilles; but, on his way, he met the wounded\nEurypylus, and he took him to his hut and cut the arrow out of his thigh\nwith a knife, and washed the wound with warm water, and rubbed over it a\nbitter root to take the pain away. Thus he waited for some time with\nEurypylus, but the advice of Nestor was in the end to cause the death of\nPatroclus. The battle now raged more fiercely, while Agamemnon and\nDiomede and Ulysses could only limp about leaning on their spears; and\nagain Agamemnon wished to moor the ships near shore, and embark in the\nnight and run away. But Ulysses was very angry with him, and said: 'You\nshould lead some other inglorious army, not us, who will fight on till\nevery soul of us perish, rather than flee like cowards! Be silent, lest\nthe soldiers hear you speaking of flight, such words as no man should\nutter. I wholly scorn your counsel, for the Greeks will lose heart if,\nin the midst of battle, you bid them launch the ships.'\n\nAgamemnon was ashamed, and, by Diomede's advice, the wounded kings went\ndown to the verge of the war to encourage the others, though they were\nthemselves unable to fight. They rallied the Greeks, and Aias led them\nand struck Hector full in the breast with a great rock, so that his\nfriends carried him out of the battle to the river side, where they\npoured water over him, but he lay fainting on the ground, the black\nblood gushing up from his mouth. While Hector lay there, and all men\nthought that he would die, Aias and Idomeneus were driving back the\nTrojans, and it seemed that, even without Achilles and his men, the\nGreeks were able to hold their own against the Trojans. But the battle\nwas never lost while Hector lived. People in those days believed in\n'omens:' they thought that the appearance of birds on the right or left\nhand meant good or bad luck. Once during the battle a Trojan showed\nHector an unlucky bird, and wanted him to retreat into the town. But\nHector said, 'One omen is the best: to fight for our own country.' While\nHector lay between death and life the Greeks were winning, for the\nTrojans had no other great chief to lead them. But Hector awoke from his\nfaint, and leaped to his feet and ran here and there, encouraging the\nmen of Troy. Then the most of the Greeks fled when they saw him; but\nAias and Idomeneus, and the rest of the bravest, formed in a square\nbetween the Trojans and the ships, and down on them came Hector and\nAeneas and Paris, throwing their spears, and slaying on every hand. The\nGreeks turned and ran, and the Trojans would have stopped to strip the\narmour from the slain men, but Hector cried: 'Haste to the ships and\nleave the spoils of war. I will slay any man who lags behind!'\n\nOn this, all the Trojans drove their chariots down into the ditch that\nguarded the ships of the Greeks, as when a great wave sweeps at sea over\nthe side of a vessel; and the Greeks were on the ship decks, thrusting\nwith very long spears, used in sea fights, and the Trojans were boarding\nthe ships, and striking with swords and axes. Hector had a lighted torch\nand tried to set fire to the ship of Aias; but Aias kept him back with\nthe long spear, and slew a Trojan, whose lighted torch fell from his\nhand. And Aias kept shouting: 'Come on, and drive away Hector; it is not\nto a dance that he is calling his men, but to battle.'\n\nThe dead fell in heaps, and the living ran over them to mount the heaps\nof slain and climb the ships. Hector rushed forward like a sea wave\nagainst a great steep rock, but like the rock stood the Greeks; still\nthe Trojans charged past the beaks of the foremost ships, while Aias,\nthrusting with a spear more than twenty feet long, leaped from deck to\ndeck like a man that drives four horses abreast, and leaps from the back\nof one to the back of another. Hector seized with his hand the stern of\nthe ship of Protesilaus, the prince whom Paris shot when he leaped\nashore on the day when the Greeks first landed; and Hector kept calling:\n'Bring fire!' and even Aias, in this strange sea fight on land, left the\ndecks and went below, thrusting with his spear through the portholes.\nTwelve men lay dead who had brought fire against the ship which Aias\nguarded.\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\nTHE SLAYING AND AVENGING OF PATROCLUS\n\n\nAt this moment, when torches were blazing round the ships, and all\nseemed lost, Patroclus came out of the hut of Eurypylus, whose wound he\nhad been tending, and he saw that the Greeks were in great danger, and\nran weeping to Achilles. 'Why do you weep,' said Achilles, 'like a\nlittle girl that runs by her mother's side, and plucks at her gown and\nlooks at her with tears in her eyes, till her mother takes her up in her\narms? Is there bad news from home that your father is dead, or mine; or\nare you sorry that the Greeks are getting what they deserve for their\nfolly?' Then Patroclus told Achilles how Ulysses and many other princes\nwere wounded and could not fight, and begged to be allowed to put on\nAchilles' armour and lead his men, who were all fresh and unwearied,\ninto the battle, for a charge of two thousand fresh warriors might turn\nthe fortune of the day.\n\nThen Achilles was sorry that he had sworn not to fight himself till\nHector brought fire to his own ships. He would lend Patroclus his\narmour, and his horses, and his men; but Patroclus must only drive the\nTrojans from the ships, and not pursue them. At this moment Aias was\nweary, so many spears smote his armour, and he could hardly hold up his\ngreat shield, and Hector cut off his spearhead with the sword; the\nbronze head fell ringing on the ground, and Aias brandished only the\npointless shaft. So he shrank back and fire blazed all over his ship;\nand Achilles saw it, and smote his thigh, and bade Patroclus make haste.\nPatroclus armed himself in the shining armour of Achilles, which all\nTrojans feared, and leaped into the chariot where Automedon, the squire,\nhad harnessed Xanthus and Balius, two horses that were the children, men\nsaid, of the West Wind, and a led horse was harnessed beside them in the\nside traces. Meanwhile the two thousand men of Achilles, who were called\nMyrmidons, had met in armour, five companies of four hundred apiece,\nunder five chiefs of noble names. Forth they came, as eager as a pack of\nwolves that have eaten a great red deer and run to slake their thirst\nwith the dark water of a well in the hills.\n\nSo all in close array, helmet touching helmet and shield touching\nshield, like a moving wall of shining bronze, the men of Achilles\ncharged, and Patroclus in the chariot led the way. Down they came at\nfull speed on the flank of the Trojans, who saw the leader, and knew the\nbright armour and the horses of the terrible Achilles, and thought that\nhe had returned to the war. Then each Trojan looked round to see by what\nway he could escape, and when men do that in battle they soon run by the\nway they have chosen. Patroclus rushed to the ship of Protesilaus, and\nslew the leader of the Trojans there, and drove them out, and quenched\nthe fire; while they of Troy drew back from the ships, and Aias and the\nother unwounded Greek princes leaped among them, smiting with sword and\nspear. Well did Hector know that the break in the battle had come again;\nbut even so he stood, and did what he might, while the Trojans were\ndriven back in disorder across the ditch, where the poles of many\nchariots were broken and the horses fled loose across the plain.\n\nThe horses of Achilles cleared the ditch, and Patroclus drove them\nbetween the Trojans and the wall of their own town, slaying many men,\nand, chief of all, Sarpedon, king of the Lycians; and round the body of\nSarpedon the Trojans rallied under Hector, and the fight swayed this way\nand that, and there was such a noise of spears and swords smiting\nshields and helmets as when many woodcutters fell trees in a glen of the\nhills. At last the Trojans gave way, and the Greeks stripped the armour\nfrom the body of brave Sarpedon; but men say that Sleep and Death, like\ntwo winged angels, bore his body away to his own country. Now Patroclus\nforgot how Achilles had told him not to pursue the Trojans across the\nplain, but to return when he had driven them from the ships. On he\nraced, slaying as he went, even till he reached the foot of the wall of\nTroy. Thrice he tried to climb it, but thrice he fell back.\n\nHector was in his chariot in the gateway, and he bade his squire lash\nhis horses into the war, and struck at no other man, great or small, but\ndrove straight against Patroclus, who stood and threw a heavy stone at\nHector; which missed him, but killed his charioteer. Then Patroclus\nleaped on the charioteer to strip his armour, but Hector stood over the\nbody, grasping it by the head, while Patroclus dragged at the feet, and\nspears and arrows flew in clouds around the fallen man. At last, towards\nsunset, the Greeks drew him out of the war, and Patroclus thrice charged\ninto the thick of the Trojans. But the helmet of Achilles was loosened\nin the fight, and fell from the head of Patroclus, and he was wounded\nfrom behind, and Hector, in front, drove his spear clean through his\nbody. With his last breath Patroclus prophesied: 'Death stands near\nthee, Hector, at the hands of noble Achilles.' But Automedon was driving\nback the swift horses, carrying to Achilles the news that his dearest\nfriend was slain.\n\nAfter Ulysses was wounded, early in this great battle, he was not able\nto fight for several days, and, as the story is about Ulysses, we must\ntell quite shortly how Achilles returned to the war to take vengeance\nfor Patroclus, and how he slew Hector. When Patroclus fell, Hector\nseized the armour which the Gods had given to Peleus, and Peleus to his\nson Achilles, while Achilles had lent it to Patroclus that he might\nterrify the Trojans. Retiring out of reach of spears, Hector took off\nhis own armour and put on that of Achilles, and Greeks and Trojans\nfought for the dead body of Patroclus. Then Zeus, the chief of the Gods,\nlooked down and said that Hector should never come home out of the\nbattle to his wife, Andromache. But Hector returned into the fight\naround the dead Patroclus, and here all the best men fought, and even\nAutomedon, who had been driving the chariot of Patroclus. Now when the\nTrojans seemed to have the better of the fight, the Greeks sent\nAntilochus, a son of old Nestor, to tell Achilles that his friend was\nslain, and Antilochus ran, and Aias and his brother protected the Greeks\nwho were trying to carry the body of Patroclus back to the ships.\n\nSwiftly Antilochus came running to Achilles, saying: 'Fallen is\nPatroclus, and they are fighting round his naked body, for Hector has\nhis armour.' Then Achilles said never a word, but fell on the floor of\nhis hut, and threw black ashes on his yellow hair, till Antilochus\nseized his hands, fearing that he would cut his own throat with his\ndagger, for very sorrow. His mother, Thetis, arose from the sea to\ncomfort him, but he said that he desired to die if he could not slay\nHector, who had slain his friend. Then Thetis told him that he could not\nfight without armour, and now he had none; but she would go to the God\nof armour-making and bring from him such a shield and helmet and\nbreastplate as had never been seen by men.\n\nMeanwhile the fight raged round the dead body of Patroclus, which was\ndefiled with blood and dust, near the ships, and was being dragged this\nway and that, and torn and wounded. Achilles could not bear this sight,\nyet his mother had warned him not to enter without armour the battle\nwhere stones and arrows and spears were flying like hail; and he was so\ntall and broad that he could put on the arms of no other man. So he went\ndown to the ditch as he was, unarmed, and as he stood high above it,\nagainst the red sunset, fire seemed to flow from his golden hair like\nthe beacon blaze that soars into the dark sky when an island town is\nattacked at night, and men light beacons that their neighbours may see\nthem and come to their help from other isles. There Achilles stood in a\nsplendour of fire, and he shouted aloud, as clear as a clarion rings\nwhen men fall on to attack a besieged city wall. Thrice Achilles shouted\nmightily, and thrice the horses of the Trojans shuddered for fear and\nturned back from the onslaught, and thrice the men of Troy were\nconfounded and shaken with terror. Then the Greeks drew the body of\nPatroclus out of the dust and the arrows, and laid him on a bier, and\nAchilles followed, weeping, for he had sent his friend with chariot and\nhorses to the war; but home again he welcomed him never more. Then the\nsun set and it was night.\n\nNow one of the Trojans wished Hector to retire within the walls of Troy,\nfor certainly Achilles would to-morrow be foremost in the war. But\nHector said, 'Have ye not had your fill of being shut up behind walls?\nLet Achilles fight; I will meet him in the open field.' The Trojans\ncheered, and they camped in the plain, while in the hut of Achilles\nwomen washed the dead body of Patroclus, and Achilles swore that he\nwould slay Hector.\n\nIn the dawn came Thetis, bearing to Achilles the new splendid armour\nthat the God had made for him. Then Achilles put on that armour, and\nroused his men; but Ulysses, who knew all the rules of honour, would not\nlet him fight till peace had been made, with a sacrifice and other\nceremonies, between him and Agamemnon, and till Agamemnon had given him\nall the presents which Achilles had before refused. Achilles did not\nwant them; he wanted only to fight, but Ulysses made him obey, and do\nwhat was usual. Then the gifts were brought, and Agamemnon stood up, and\nsaid that he was sorry for his insolence, and the men took breakfast,\nbut Achilles would neither eat nor drink. He mounted his chariot, but\nthe horse Xanthus bowed his head till his long mane touched the ground,\nand, being a fairy horse, the child of the West Wind, he spoke (or so\nmen said), and these were his words: 'We shall bear thee swiftly and\nspeedily, but thou shalt be slain in fight, and thy dying day is near at\nhand.' 'Well I know it,' said Achilles, 'but I will not cease from\nfighting till I have given the Trojans their fill of war.'\n\nSo all that day he chased and slew the Trojans. He drove them into the\nriver, and, though the river came down in a red flood, he crossed, and\nslew them on the plain. The plain caught fire, the bushes and long dry\ngrass blazed round him, but he fought his way through the fire, and\ndrove the Trojans to their walls. The gates were thrown open, and the\nTrojans rushed through like frightened fawns, and then they climbed to\nthe battlements, and looked down in safety, while the whole Greek army\nadvanced in line under their shields.\n\nBut Hector stood still, alone, in front of the gate, and old Priam, who\nsaw Achilles rushing on, shining like a star in his new armour, called\nwith tears to Hector, 'Come within the gate! This man has slain many of\nmy sons, and if he slays thee whom have I to help me in my old age?' His\nmother also called to Hector, but he stood firm, waiting for Achilles.\nNow the story says that he was afraid, and ran thrice in full armour\nround Troy, with Achilles in pursuit. But this cannot be true, for no\nmortal men could run thrice, in heavy armour, with great shields that\nclanked against their ankles, round the town of Troy: moreover Hector\nwas the bravest of men, and all the Trojan women were looking down at\nhim from the walls.\n\nWe cannot believe that he ran away, and the story goes on to tell that\nhe asked Achilles to make an agreement with him. The conqueror in the\nfight should give back the body of the fallen to be buried by his\nfriends, but should keep his armour. But Achilles said that he could\nmake no agreement with Hector, and threw his spear, which flew over\nHector's shoulder. Then Hector threw his spear, but it could not pierce\nthe shield which the God had made for Achilles. Hector had no other\nspear, and Achilles had one, so Hector cried, 'Let me not die without\nhonour!' and drew his sword, and rushed at Achilles, who sprang to meet\nhim, but before Hector could come within a sword-stroke Achilles had\nsent his spear clean through the neck of Hector. He fell in the dust and\nAchilles said, 'Dogs and birds shall tear your flesh unburied.' With his\ndying breath Hector prayed him to take gold from Priam, and give back\nhis body to be burned in Troy. But Achilles said, 'Hound! would that I\ncould bring myself to carve and eat thy raw flesh, but dogs shall devour\nit, even if thy father offered me thy weight in gold.' With his last\nwords Hector prophesied and said, 'Remember me in the day when Paris\nshall slay thee in the Scaean gate.' Then his brave soul went to the\nland of the Dead, which the Greeks called Hades. To that land Ulysses\nsailed while he was still a living man, as the story tells later.\n\nThen Achilles did a dreadful deed; he slit the feet of dead Hector from\nheel to ankle, and thrust thongs through, and bound him by the thongs to\nhis chariot and trailed the body in the dust. All the women of Troy who\nwere on the walls raised a shriek, and Hector's wife, Andromache, heard\nthe sound. She had been in an inner room of her house, weaving a purple\nweb, and embroidering flowers on it, and she was calling her bower\nmaidens to make ready a bath for Hector when he should come back tired\nfrom battle. But when she heard the cry from the wall she trembled, and\nthe shuttle with which she was weaving fell from her hands. 'Surely I\nheard the cry of my husband's mother,' she said, and she bade two of her\nmaidens come with her to see why the people lamented.\n\nShe ran swiftly, and reached the battlements, and thence she saw her\ndear husband's body being whirled through the dust towards the ships,\nbehind the chariot of Achilles. Then night came over her eyes and she\nfainted. But when she returned to herself she cried out that now none\nwould defend her little boy, and other children would push him away from\nfeasts, saying, 'Out with you; no father of thine is at our table,' and\nhis father, Hector, would lie naked at the ships, unclad, unburned,\nunlamented. To be unburned and unburied was thought the greatest of\nmisfortunes, because the dead man unburned could not go into the House\nof Hades, God of the Dead, but must always wander, alone and\ncomfortless, in the dark borderland between the dead and the living.\n\n\n\n\nVIII\n\nTHE CRUELTY OF ACHILLES, AND THE RANSOMING OF HECTOR\n\n\nWhen Achilles was asleep that night the ghost of Patroclus came, saying,\n'Why dost thou not burn and bury me? for the other shadows of dead men\nsuffer me not to come near them, and lonely I wander along the dark\ndwelling of Hades.' Then Achilles awoke, and he sent men to cut down\ntrees, and make a huge pile of fagots and logs. On this they laid\nPatroclus, covered with white linen, and then they slew many cattle, and\nAchilles cut the throats of twelve Trojan prisoners of war, meaning to\nburn them with Patroclus to do him honour. This was a deed of shame, for\nAchilles was mad with sorrow and anger for the death of his friend. Then\nthey drenched with wine the great pile of wood, which was thirty yards\nlong and broad, and set fire to it, and the fire blazed all through the\nnight and died down in the morning. They put the white bones of\nPatroclus in a golden casket, and laid it in the hut of Achilles, who\nsaid that, when he died, they must burn his body, and mix the ashes with\nthe ashes of his friend, and build over it a chamber of stone, and cover\nthe chamber with a great hill of earth, and set a pillar of stone above\nit. This is one of the hills on the plain of Troy, but the pillar has\nfallen from the tomb, long ago.\n\nThen, as the custom was, Achilles held games--chariot races, foot races,\nboxing, wrestling, and archery--in honour of Patroclus. Ulysses won the\nprize for the foot race, and for the wrestling, so now his wound must\nhave been healed.\n\nBut Achilles still kept trailing Hector's dead body each day round the\nhill that had been raised for the tomb of Patroclus, till the Gods in\nheaven were angry, and bade Thetis tell her son that he must give back\nthe dead body to Priam, and take ransom for it, and they sent a\nmessenger to Priam to bid him redeem the body of his son. It was\nterrible for Priam to have to go and humble himself before Achilles,\nwhose hands had been red with the blood of his sons, but he did not\ndisobey the Gods. He opened his chests, and took out twenty-four\nbeautiful embroidered changes of raiment; and he weighed out ten heavy\nbars, or talents, of gold, and chose a beautiful golden cup, and he\ncalled nine of his sons, Paris, and Helenus, and Deiphobus, and the\nrest, saying, 'Go, ye bad sons, my shame; would that Hector lived and\nall of you were dead!' for sorrow made him angry; 'go, and get ready for\nme a wain, and lay on it these treasures.' So they harnessed mules to\nthe wain, and placed in it the treasures, and, after praying, Priam\ndrove through the night to the hut of Achilles. In he went, when no man\nlooked for him, and kneeled to Achilles, and kissed his terrible\ndeath-dealing hands. 'Have pity on me, and fear the Gods, and give me\nback my dead son,' he said, 'and remember thine own father. Have pity on\nme, who have endured to do what no man born has ever done before, to\nkiss the hands that slew my sons.'\n\nThen Achilles remembered his own father, far away, who now was old and\nweak: and he wept, and Priam wept with him, and then Achilles raised\nPriam from his knees and spoke kindly to him, admiring how beautiful he\nstill was in his old age, and Priam himself wondered at the beauty of\nAchilles. And Achilles thought how Priam had long been rich and happy,\nlike his own father, Peleus, and now old age and weakness and sorrow\nwere laid upon both of them, for Achilles knew that his own day of death\nwas at hand, even at the doors. So Achilles bade the women make ready\nthe body of Hector for burial, and they clothed him in a white mantle\nthat Priam had brought, and laid him in the wain; and supper was made\nready, and Priam and Achilles ate and drank together, and the women\nspread a bed for Priam, who would not stay long, but stole away back to\nTroy while Achilles was asleep.\n\nAll the women came out to meet him, and to lament for Hector. They\ncarried the body into the house of Andromache and laid it on a bed, and\nthe women gathered around, and each in turn sang her song over the great\ndead warrior. His mother bewailed him, and his wife, and Helen of the\nfair hands, clad in dark mourning raiment, lifted up her white arms, and\nsaid: 'Hector, of all my brethren in Troy thou wert the dearest, since\nParis brought me hither. Would that ere that day I had died! For this is\nnow the twentieth year since I came, and in all these twenty years never\nheard I a word from thee that was bitter and unkind; others might\nupbraid me, thy sisters or thy mother, for thy father was good to me as\nif he had been my own; but then thou wouldst restrain them that spoke\nevil by the courtesy of thy heart and thy gentle words. Ah! woe for\nthee, and woe for me, whom all men shudder at, for there is now none in\nwide Troyland to be my friend like thee, my brother and my friend!'\n\nSo Helen lamented, but now was done all that men might do; a great pile\nof wood was raised, and Hector was burned, and his ashes were placed in\na golden urn, in a dark chamber of stone, within a hollow hill.\n\n\n\n\nIX\n\nHOW ULYSSES STOLE THE LUCK OF TROY\n\n\nAfter Hector was buried, the siege went on slowly, as it had done during\nthe first nine years of the war. The Greeks did not know at that time\nhow to besiege a city, as we saw, by way of digging trenches and\nbuilding towers, and battering the walls with machines that threw heavy\nstones. The Trojans had lost courage, and dared not go into the open\nplain, and they were waiting for the coming up of new armies of\nallies--the Amazons, who were girl warriors from far away, and an\nEastern people called the Khita, whose king was Memnon, the son of the\nBright Dawn.\n\nNow everyone knew that, in the temple of the Goddess Pallas Athene, in\nTroy, was a sacred image, which fell from heaven, called the Palladium,\nand this very ancient image was the Luck of Troy. While it remained safe\nin the temple people believed that Troy could never be taken, but as it\nwas in a guarded temple in the middle of the town, and was watched by\npriestesses day and night, it seemed impossible that the Greeks should\never enter the city secretly and steal the Luck away.\n\nAs Ulysses was the grandson of Autolycus, the Master Thief, he often\nwished that the old man was with the Greeks, for if there was a thing to\nsteal Autolycus could steal it. But by this time Autolycus was dead, and\nso Ulysses could only puzzle over the way to steal the Luck of Troy, and\nwonder how his grandfather would have set about it. He prayed for help\nsecretly to Hermes, the God of Thieves, when he sacrificed goats to him,\nand at last he had a plan.\n\nThere was a story that Anius, the King of the Isle of Delos, had three\ndaughters, named Oeno, Spermo, and Elais, and that Oeno could turn\nwater into wine, while Spermo could turn stones into bread, and Elais\ncould change mud into olive oil. Those fairy gifts, people said, were\ngiven to the maidens by the Wine God, Dionysus, and by the Goddess of\nCorn, Demeter. Now corn, and wine, and oil were sorely needed by the\nGreeks, who were tired of paying much gold and bronze to the Phoenician\nmerchants for their supplies. Ulysses therefore went to Agamemnon one\nday, and asked leave to take his ship and voyage to Delos, to bring, if\nhe could, the three maidens to the camp, if indeed they could do these\nmiracles. As no fighting was going on, Agamemnon gave Ulysses leave to\ndepart, so he went on board his ship, with a crew of fifty men of\nIthaca, and away they sailed, promising to return in a month.\n\nTwo or three days after that, a dirty old beggar man began to be seen in\nthe Greek camp. He had crawled in late one evening, dressed in a dirty\nsmock and a very dirty old cloak, full of holes, and stained with smoke.\nOver everything he wore the skin of a stag, with half the hair worn off,\nand he carried a staff, and a filthy tattered wallet, to put food in,\nwhich swung from his neck by a cord. He came crouching and smiling up to\nthe door of the hut of Diomede, and sat down just within the doorway,\nwhere beggars still sit in the East. Diomede saw him, and sent him a\nloaf and two handfuls of flesh, which the beggar laid on his wallet,\nbetween his feet, and he made his supper greedily, gnawing a bone like a\ndog.\n\nAfter supper Diomede asked him who he was and whence he came, and he\ntold a long story about how he had been a Cretan pirate, and had been\ntaken prisoner by the Egyptians when he was robbing there, and how he\nhad worked for many years in their stone quarries, where the sun had\nburned him brown, and had escaped by hiding among the great stones,\ncarried down the Nile in a raft, for building a temple on the seashore.\nThe raft arrived at night, and the beggar said that he stole out from it\nin the dark and found a Phoenician ship in the harbour, and the\nPhoenicians took him on board, meaning to sell him somewhere as a slave.\nBut a tempest came on and wrecked the ship off the Isle of Tenedos,\nwhich is near Troy, and the beggar alone escaped to the island on a\nplank of the ship. From Tenedos he had come to Troy in a fisher's boat,\nhoping to make himself useful in the camp, and earn enough to keep body\nand soul together till he could find a ship sailing to Crete.\n\nHe made his story rather amusing, describing the strange ways of the\nEgyptians; how they worshipped cats and bulls, and did everything in\njust the opposite of the Greek way of doing things. So Diomede let him\nhave a rug and blankets to sleep on in the portico of the hut, and next\nday the old wretch went begging about the camp and talking with the\nsoldiers. Now he was a most impudent and annoying old vagabond, and was\nalways in quarrels. If there was a disagreeable story about the father\nor grandfather of any of the princes, he knew it and told it, so that he\ngot a blow from the baton of Agamemnon, and Aias gave him a kick, and\nIdomeneus drubbed him with the butt of his spear for a tale about his\ngrandmother, and everybody hated him and called him a nuisance. He was\nfor ever jeering at Ulysses, who was far away, and telling tales about\nAutolycus, and at last he stole a gold cup, a very large cup, with two\nhandles, and a dove sitting on each handle, from the hut of Nestor. The\nold chief was fond of this cup, which he had brought from home, and,\nwhen it was found in the beggar's dirty wallet, everybody cried that he\nmust be driven out of the camp and well whipped. So Nestor's son, young\nThrasymedes, with other young men, laughing and shouting, pushed and\ndragged the beggar close up to the Scaean gate of Troy, where\nThrasymedes called with a loud voice, 'O Trojans, we are sick of this\nshameless beggar. First we shall whip him well, and if he comes back we\nshall put out his eyes and cut off his hands and feet, and give him to\nthe dogs to eat. He may go to you, if he likes; if not, he must wander\ntill he dies of hunger.'\n\nThe young men of Troy heard this and laughed, and a crowd gathered on\nthe wall to see the beggar punished. So Thrasymedes whipped him with his\nbowstring till he was tired, and they did not leave off beating the\nbeggar till he ceased howling and fell, all bleeding, and lay still.\nThen Thrasymedes gave him a parting kick, and went away with his\nfriends. The beggar lay quiet for some time, then he began to stir, and\nsat up, wiping the tears from his eyes, and shouting curses and bad\nwords after the Greeks, praying that they might be speared in the back,\nand eaten by dogs.\n\nAt last he tried to stand up, but fell down again, and began to crawl on\nhands and knees towards the Scaean gate. There he sat down, within the\ntwo side walls of the gate, where he cried and lamented. Now Helen of\nthe fair hands came down from the gate tower, being sorry to see any man\ntreated so much worse than a beast, and she spoke to the beggar and\nasked him why he had been used in this cruel way?\n\nAt first he only moaned, and rubbed his sore sides, but at last he said\nthat he was an unhappy man, who had been shipwrecked, and was begging\nhis way home, and that the Greeks suspected him of being a spy sent out\nby the Trojans. But he had been in Lacedaemon, her own country, he said,\nand could tell her about her father, if she were, as he supposed, the\nbeautiful Helen, and about her brothers, Castor and Polydeuces, and her\nlittle daughter, Hermione.\n\n'But perhaps,' he said, 'you are no mortal woman, but some goddess who\nfavours the Trojans, and if indeed you are a goddess then I liken you to\nAphrodite, for beauty, and stature, and shapeliness.' Then Helen wept;\nfor many a year had passed since she had heard any word of her father,\nand daughter, and her brothers, who were dead, though she knew it not.\nSo she stretched out her white hand, and raised the beggar, who was\nkneeling at her feet, and bade him follow her to her own house, within\nthe palace garden of King Priam.\n\nHelen walked forward, with a bower maiden at either side, and the beggar\ncrawling after her. When she had entered her house, Paris was not there,\nso she ordered the bath to be filled with warm water, and new clothes to\nbe brought, and she herself washed the old beggar and anointed him with\noil. This appears very strange to us, for though Saint Elizabeth of\nHungary used to wash and clothe beggars, we are surprised that Helen\nshould do so, who was not a saint. But long afterwards she herself told\nthe son of Ulysses, Telemachus, that she had washed his father when he\ncame into Troy disguised as a beggar who had been sorely beaten.\n\nYou must have guessed that the beggar was Ulysses, who had not gone to\nDelos in his ship, but stolen back in a boat, and appeared disguised\namong the Greeks. He did all this to make sure that nobody could\nrecognise him, and he behaved so as to deserve a whipping that he might\nnot be suspected as a Greek spy by the Trojans, but rather be pitied by\nthem. Certainly he deserved his name of 'the much-enduring Ulysses.'\n\nMeanwhile he sat in his bath and Helen washed his feet. But when she had\ndone, and had anointed his wounds with olive oil, and when she had\nclothed him in a white tunic and a purple mantle, then she opened her\nlips to cry out with amazement, for she knew Ulysses; but he laid his\nfinger on her lips, saying 'Hush!' Then she remembered how great danger\nhe was in, for the Trojans, if they found him, would put him to some\ncruel death, and she sat down, trembling and weeping, while he watched\nher.\n\n'Oh thou strange one,' she said, 'how enduring is thy heart and how\ncunning beyond measure! How hast thou borne to be thus beaten and\ndisgraced, and to come within the walls of Troy? Well it is for thee\nthat Paris, my lord, is far from home, having gone to guide Penthesilea,\nthe Queen of the warrior maids whom men call Amazons, who is on her way\nto help the Trojans.'\n\nThen Ulysses smiled, and Helen saw that she had said a word which she\nought not to have spoken, and had revealed the secret hope of the\nTrojans. Then she wept, and said, 'Oh cruel and cunning! You have made\nme betray the people with whom I live, though woe is me that ever I left\nmy own people, and my husband dear, and my child! And now if you escape\nalive out of Troy, you will tell the Greeks, and they will lie in ambush\nby night for the Amazons on the way to Troy and will slay them all. If\nyou and I were not friends long ago, I would tell the Trojans that you\nare here, and they would give your body to the dogs to eat, and fix your\nhead on the palisade above the wall. Woe is me that ever I was born.'\n\nUlysses answered, 'Lady, as you have said, we two are friends from of\nold, and your friend I will be till the last, when the Greeks break into\nTroy, and slay the men, and carry the women captives. If I live till\nthat hour no man shall harm you, but safely and in honour you shall come\nto your palace in Lacedaemon of the rifted hills. Moreover, I swear to\nyou a great oath, by Zeus above, and by Them that under earth punish the\nsouls of men who swear falsely, that I shall tell no man the thing which\nyou have spoken.'\n\nSo when he had sworn and done that oath, Helen was comforted and dried\nher tears. Then she told him how unhappy she was, and how she had lost\nher last comfort when Hector died. 'Always am I wretched,' she said,\n'save when sweet sleep falls on me. Now the wife of Thon, King of Egypt,\ngave me this gift when we were in Egypt, on our way to Troy, namely, a\ndrug that brings sleep even to the most unhappy, and it is pressed from\nthe poppy heads of the garland of the God of Sleep.' Then she showed him\nstrange phials of gold, full of this drug: phials wrought by the\nEgyptians, and covered with magic spells and shapes of beasts and\nflowers. 'One of these I will give you,' she said, 'that even from Troy\ntown you may not go without a gift in memory of the hands of Helen.' So\nUlysses took the phial of gold, and was glad in his heart, and Helen set\nbefore him meat and wine. When he had eaten and drunk, and his strength\nhad come back to him, he said:\n\n'Now I must dress me again in my old rags, and take my wallet, and my\nstaff, and go forth, and beg through Troy town. For here I must abide\nfor some days as a beggar man, lest if I now escape from your house in\nthe night the Trojans may think that you have told me the secrets of\ntheir counsel, which I am carrying to the Greeks, and may be angry with\nyou.' So he clothed himself again as a beggar, and took his staff, and\nhid the phial of gold with the Egyptian drug in his rags, and in his\nwallet also he put the new clothes that Helen had given him, and a\nsword, and he took farewell, saying, 'Be of good heart, for the end of\nyour sorrows is at hand. But if you see me among the beggars in the\nstreet, or by the well, take no heed of me, only I will salute you as a\nbeggar who has been kindly treated by a Queen.'\n\nSo they parted, and Ulysses went out, and when it was day he was with\nthe beggars in the streets, but by night he commonly slept near the fire\nof a smithy forge, as is the way of beggars. So for some days he begged,\nsaying that he was gathering food to eat while he walked to some town\nfar away that was at peace, where he might find work to do. He was not\nimpudent now, and did not go to rich men's houses or tell evil tales, or\nlaugh, but he was much in the temples, praying to the Gods, and above\nall in the temple of Pallas Athene. The Trojans thought that he was a\npious man for a beggar.\n\nNow there was a custom in these times that men and women who were sick\nor in distress, should sleep at night on the floors of the temples. They\ndid this hoping that the God would send them a dream to show them how\ntheir diseases might be cured, or how they might find what they had\nlost, or might escape from their distresses.\n\nUlysses slept in more than one temple, and once in that of Pallas\nAthene, and the priests and priestesses were kind to him, and gave him\nfood in the morning when the gates of the temple were opened.\n\nIn the temple of Pallas Athene, where the Luck of Troy lay always on her\naltar, the custom was that priestesses kept watch, each for two hours,\nall through the night, and soldiers kept guard within call. So one night\nUlysses slept there, on the floor, with other distressed people, seeking\nfor dreams from the Gods. He lay still all through the night till the\nturn of the last priestess came to watch. The priestess used to walk up\nand down with bare feet among the dreaming people, having a torch in her\nhand, and muttering hymns to the Goddess. Then Ulysses, when her back\nwas turned, slipped the gold phial out of his rags, and let it lie on\nthe polished floor beside him. When the priestess came back again, the\nlight from her torch fell on the glittering phial, and she stooped and\npicked it up, and looked at it curiously. There came from it a sweet\nfragrance, and she opened it, and tasted the drug. It seemed to her the\nsweetest thing that ever she had tasted, and she took more and more, and\nthen closed the phial and laid it down, and went along murmuring her\nhymn.\n\nBut soon a great drowsiness came over her, and she sat down on the step\nof the altar, and fell sound asleep, and the torch sunk in her hand, and\nwent out, and all was dark. Then Ulysses put the phial in his wallet,\nand crept very cautiously to the altar, in the dark, and stole the Luck\nof Troy. It was only a small black mass of what is now called meteoric\niron, which sometimes comes down with meteorites from the sky, but it\nwas shaped like a shield, and the people thought it an image of the\nwarlike shielded Goddess, fallen from Heaven. Such sacred shields, made\nof glass and ivory, are found deep in the earth in the ruined cities of\nUlysses' time. Swiftly Ulysses hid the Luck in his rags and left in its\nplace on the altar a copy of the Luck, which he had made of blackened\nclay. Then he stole back to the place where he had lain, and remained\nthere till dawn appeared, and the sleepers who sought for dreams awoke,\nand the temple gates were opened, and Ulysses walked out with the rest\nof them.\n\nHe stole down a lane, where as yet no people were stirring, and crept\nalong, leaning on his staff, till he came to the eastern gate, at the\nback of the city, which the Greeks never attacked, for they had never\ndrawn their army in a circle round the town. There Ulysses explained to\nthe sentinels that he had gathered food enough to last for a long\njourney to some other town, and opened his bag, which seemed full of\nbread and broken meat. The soldiers said he was a lucky beggar, and let\nhim out. He walked slowly along the waggon road by which wood was\nbrought into Troy from the forests on Mount Ida, and when he found that\nnobody was within sight he slipped into the forest, and stole into a\ndark thicket, hiding beneath the tangled boughs. Here he lay and slept\ntill evening, and then took the new clothes which Helen had given him\nout of his wallet, and put them on, and threw the belt of the sword over\nhis shoulder, and hid the Luck of Troy in his bosom. He washed himself\nclean in a mountain brook, and now all who saw him must have known that\nhe was no beggar, but Ulysses of Ithaca, Laertes' son.\n\nSo he walked cautiously down the side of the brook which ran between\nhigh banks deep in trees, and followed it till it reached the river\nXanthus, on the left of the Greek lines. Here he found Greek sentinels\nset to guard the camp, who cried aloud in joy and surprise, for his\nship had not yet returned from Delos, and they could not guess how\nUlysses had come back alone across the sea. So two of the sentinels\nguarded Ulysses to the hut of Agamemnon, where he and Achilles and all\nthe chiefs were sitting at a feast. They all leaped up, but when Ulysses\ntook the Luck of Troy from within his mantle, they cried that this was\nthe bravest deed that had been done in the war, and they sacrificed ten\noxen to Zeus.\n\n'So you were the old beggar,' said young Thrasymedes.\n\n'Yes,' said Ulysses, 'and when next you beat a beggar, Thrasymedes, do\nnot strike so hard and so long.'\n\nThat night all the Greeks were full of hope, for now they had the Luck\nof Troy, but the Trojans were in despair, and guessed that the beggar\nwas the thief, and that Ulysses had been the beggar. The priestess,\nTheano, could tell them nothing; they found her, with the extinguished\ntorch drooping in her hand, asleep, as she sat on the step of the altar,\nand she never woke again.\n\n\n\n\nX\n\nTHE BATTLES WITH THE AMAZONS AND MEMNON--THE DEATH OF ACHILLES\n\n\nUlysses thought much and often of Helen, without whose kindness he could\nnot have saved the Greeks by stealing the Luck of Troy. He saw that,\nthough she remained as beautiful as when the princes all sought her\nhand, she was most unhappy, knowing herself to be the cause of so much\nmisery, and fearing what the future might bring. Ulysses told nobody\nabout the secret which she had let fall, the coming of the Amazons.\n\nThe Amazons were a race of warlike maids, who lived far away on the\nbanks of the river Thermodon. They had fought against Troy in former\ntimes, and one of the great hill-graves on the plain of Troy covered the\nashes of an Amazon, swift-footed Myrine. People believed that they were\nthe daughters of the God of War, and they were reckoned equal in battle\nto the bravest men. Their young Queen, Penthesilea, had two reasons for\ncoming to fight at Troy: one was her ambition to win renown, and the\nother her sleepless sorrow for having accidentally killed her sister,\nHippolyte, when hunting. The spear which she threw at a stag struck\nHippolyte and slew her, and Penthesilea cared no longer for her own\nlife, and desired to fall gloriously in battle. So Penthesilea and her\nbodyguard of twelve Amazons set forth from the wide streams of\nThermodon, and rode into Troy. The story says that they did not drive in\nchariots, like all the Greek and Trojan chiefs, but rode horses, which\nmust have been the manner of their country.\n\nPenthesilea was the tallest and most beautiful of the Amazons, and shone\namong her twelve maidens like the moon among the stars, or the bright\nDawn among the Hours which follow her chariot wheels. The Trojans\nrejoiced when they beheld her, for she looked both terrible and\nbeautiful, with a frown on her brow, and fair shining eyes, and a blush\non her cheeks. To the Trojans she came like Iris, the Rainbow, after a\nstorm, and they gathered round her cheering, and throwing flowers and\nkissing her stirrup, as the people of Orleans welcomed Joan of Arc when\nshe came to deliver them. Even Priam was glad, as is a man long blind,\nwhen he has been healed, and again looks upon the light of the sun.\nPriam held a great feast, and gave to Penthesilea many beautiful gifts:\ncups of gold, and embroideries, and a sword with a hilt of silver, and\nshe vowed that she would slay Achilles. But when Andromache, the wife of\nHector, heard her she said within herself, 'Ah, unhappy girl, what is\nthis boast of thine! Thou hast not the strength to fight the\nunconquerable son of Peleus, for if Hector could not slay him, what\nchance hast thou? But the piled-up earth covers Hector!'\n\nIn the morning Penthesilea sprang up from sleep and put on her glorious\narmour, with spear in hand, and sword at side, and bow and quiver hung\nbehind her back, and her great shield covering her side from neck to\nstirrup, and mounted her horse, and galloped to the plain. Beside her\ncharged the twelve maidens of her bodyguard, and all the company of\nHector's brothers and kinsfolk. These headed the Trojan lines, and they\nrushed towards the ships of the Greeks.\n\nThen the Greeks asked each other, 'Who is this that leads the Trojans as\nHector led them, surely some God rides in the van of the charioteers!'\nUlysses could have told them who the new leader of the Trojans was, but\nit seems that he had not the heart to fight against women, for his name\nis not mentioned in this day's battle. So the two lines clashed, and the\nplain of Troy ran red with blood, for Penthesilea slew Molios, and\nPersinoos, and Eilissos, and Antiphates, and Lernos high of heart, and\nHippalmos of the loud warcry, and Haemonides, and strong Elasippus,\nwhile her maidens Derinoe and Clonie slew each a chief of the Greeks.\nBut Clonie fell beneath the spear of Podarkes, whose hand Penthesilea\ncut off with the sword, while Idomeneus speared the Amazon Bremousa,\nand Meriones of Crete slew Evadre, and Diomede killed Alcibie and\nDerimacheia in close fight with the sword, so the company of the Twelve\nwere thinned, the bodyguard of Penthesilea.\n\nThe Trojans and Greeks kept slaying each other, but Penthesilea avenged\nher maidens, driving the ranks of Greece as a lioness drives the cattle\non the hills, for they could not stand before her. Then she shouted,\n'Dogs! to-day shall you pay for the sorrows of Priam! Where is Diomede,\nwhere is Achilles, where is Aias, that, men say, are your bravest? Will\nnone of them stand before my spear?' Then she charged again, at the head\nof the Household of Priam, brothers and kinsmen of Hector, and where\nthey came the Greeks fell like yellow leaves before the wind of autumn.\nThe white horse that Penthesilea rode, a gift from the wife of the North\nWind, flashed like lightning through a dark cloud among the companies of\nthe Greeks, and the chariots that followed the charge of the Amazon\nrocked as they swept over the bodies of the slain. Then the old Trojans,\nwatching from the walls, cried: 'This is no mortal maiden but a Goddess,\nand to-day she will burn the ships of the Greeks, and they will all\nperish in Troyland, and see Greece never more again.'\n\nNow it so was that Aias and Achilles had not heard the din and the cry\nof war, for both had gone to weep over the great new grave of Patroclus.\nPenthesilea and the Trojans had driven back the Greeks within their\nditch, and they were hiding here and there among the ships, and torches\nwere blazing in men's hands to burn the ships, as in the day of the\nvalour of Hector: when Aias heard the din of battle, and called to\nAchilles to make speed towards the ships.\n\nSo they ran swiftly to their huts, and armed themselves, and Aias fell\nsmiting and slaying upon the Trojans, but Achilles slew five of the\nbodyguard of Penthesilea. She, beholding her maidens fallen, rode\nstraight against Aias and Achilles, like a dove defying two falcons, and\ncast her spear, but it fell back blunted from the glorious shield that\nthe God had made for the son of Peleus. Then she threw another spear at\nAias, crying, 'I am the daughter of the God of War,' but his armour kept\nout the spear, and he and Achilles laughed aloud. Aias paid no more heed\nto the Amazon, but rushed against the Trojan men; while Achilles raised\nthe heavy spear that none but he could throw, and drove it down through\nbreastplate and breast of Penthesilea, yet still her hand grasped her\nsword-hilt. But, ere she could draw her sword, Achilles speared her\nhorse, and horse and rider fell, and died in their fall.\n\nThere lay fair Penthesilea in the dust, like a tall poplar tree that the\nwind has overthrown, and her helmet fell, and the Greeks who gathered\nround marvelled to see her lie so beautiful in death, like Artemis, the\nGoddess of the Woods, when she sleeps alone, weary with hunting on the\nhills. Then the heart of Achilles was pierced with pity and sorrow,\nthinking how she might have been his wife in his own country, had he\nspared her, but he was never to see pleasant Phthia, his native land,\nagain. So Achilles stood and wept over Penthesilea dead.\n\nNow the Greeks, in pity and sorrow, held their hands, and did not pursue\nthe Trojans who had fled, nor did they strip the armour from Penthesilea\nand her twelve maidens, but laid the bodies on biers, and sent them back\nin peace to Priam. Then the Trojans burned Penthesilea in the midst of\nher dead maidens, on a great pile of dry wood, and placed their ashes\nin a golden casket, and buried them all in the great hill-grave of\nLaomedon, an ancient King of Troy, while the Greeks with lamentation\nburied them whom the Amazon had slain.\n\n[Illustration: ACHILLES PITIES PENTHESILEA AFTER SLAYING HER.]\n\nThe old men of Troy and the chiefs now held a council, and Priam said\nthat they must not yet despair, for, if they had lost many of their\nbravest warriors, many of the Greeks had also fallen. Their best plan\nwas to fight only with arrows from the walls and towers, till King\nMemnon came to their rescue with a great army of Aethiopes. Now Memnon\nwas the son of the bright Dawn, a beautiful Goddess who had loved and\nmarried a mortal man, Tithonus. She had asked Zeus, the chief of the\nGods, to make her lover immortal, and her prayer was granted. Tithonus\ncould not die, but he began to grow grey, and then white haired, with a\nlong white beard, and very weak, till nothing of him seemed to be left\nbut his voice, always feebly chattering like the grasshoppers on a\nsummer day.\n\nMemnon was the most beautiful of men, except Paris and Achilles, and his\nhome was in a country that borders on the land of sunrising. There he\nwas reared by the lily maidens called Hesperides, till he came to his\nfull strength, and commanded the whole army of the Aethiopes. For their\narrival Priam wished to wait, but Polydamas advised that the Trojans\nshould give back Helen to the Greeks, with jewels twice as valuable as\nthose which she had brought from the house of Menelaus. Then Paris was\nvery angry, and said that Polydamas was a coward, for it was little to\nParis that Troy should be taken and burned in a month if for a month he\ncould keep Helen of the fair hands.\n\nAt length Memnon came, leading a great army of men who had nothing white\nabout them but the teeth, so fiercely the sun burned on them in their\nown country. The Trojans had all the more hopes of Memnon because, on\nhis long journey from the land of sunrising, and the river Oceanus that\ngirdles the round world, he had been obliged to cross the country of the\nSolymi. Now the Solymi were the fiercest of men and rose up against\nMemnon, but he and his army fought them for a whole day, and defeated\nthem, and drove them to the hills. When Memnon came, Priam gave him a\ngreat cup of gold, full of wine to the brim, and Memnon drank the wine\nat one draught. But he did not make great boasts of what he could do,\nlike poor Penthesilea, 'for,' said he, 'whether I am a good man at arms\nwill be known in battle, where the strength of men is tried. So now let\nus turn to sleep, for to wake and drink wine all through the night is an\nill beginning of war.'\n\nThen Priam praised his wisdom, and all men betook them to bed, but the\nbright Dawn rose unwillingly next day, to throw light on the battle\nwhere her son was to risk his life. Then Memnon led out the dark clouds\nof his men into the plain, and the Greeks foreboded evil when they saw\nso great a new army of fresh and unwearied warriors, but Achilles,\nleading them in his shining armour, gave them courage. Memnon fell upon\nthe left wing of the Greeks, and on the men of Nestor, and first he slew\nEreuthus, and then attacked Nestor's young son, Antilochus, who, now\nthat Patroclus had fallen, was the dearest friend of Achilles. On him\nMemnon leaped, like a lion on a kid, but Antilochus lifted a huge stone\nfrom the plain, a pillar that had been set on the tomb of some great\nwarrior long ago, and the stone smote full on the helmet of Memnon, who\nreeled beneath the stroke. But Memnon seized his heavy spear, and drove\nit through shield and corselet of Antilochus, even into his heart, and\nhe fell and died beneath his father's eyes. Then Nestor in great sorrow\nand anger strode across the body of Antilochus and called to his other\nson, Thrasymedes, 'Come and drive afar this man that has slain thy\nbrother, for if fear be in thy heart thou art no son of mine, nor of the\nrace of Periclymenus, who stood up in battle even against the strong man\nHeracles!'\n\nBut Memnon was too strong for Thrasymedes, and drove him off, while old\nNestor himself charged sword in hand, though Memnon bade him begone, for\nhe was not minded to strike so aged a man, and Nestor drew back, for he\nwas weak with age. Then Memnon and his army charged the Greeks, slaying\nand stripping the dead. But Nestor had mounted his chariot and driven to\nAchilles, weeping, and imploring him to come swiftly and save the body\nof Antilochus, and he sped to meet Memnon, who lifted a great stone, the\nlandmark of a field, and drove it against the shield of the son of\nPeleus. But Achilles was not shaken by the blow; he ran forward, and\nwounded Memnon over the rim of his shield. Yet wounded as he was Memnon\nfought on and struck his spear through the arm of Achilles, for the\nGreeks fought with no sleeves of bronze to protect their arms.\n\nThen Achilles drew his great sword, and flew on Memnon, and with\nsword-strokes they lashed at each other on shield and helmet, and the\nlong horsehair crests of the helmets were shorn off, and flew down the\nwind, and their shields rang terribly beneath the sword strokes. They\nthrust at each others' throats between shield and visor of the helmet,\nthey smote at knee, and thrust at breast, and the armour rang about\ntheir bodies, and the dust from beneath their feet rose up in a cloud\naround them, like mist round the falls of a great river in flood. So\nthey fought, neither of them yielding a step, till Achilles made so\nrapid a thrust that Memnon could not parry it, and the bronze sword\npassed clean through his body beneath the breast-bone, and he fell, and\nhis armour clashed as he fell.\n\nThen Achilles, wounded as he was and weak from loss of blood, did not\nstay to strip the golden armour of Memnon, but shouted his warcry, and\npressed on, for he hoped to enter the gate of Troy with the fleeing\nTrojans, and all the Greeks followed after him. So they pursued, slaying\nas they went, and the Scaean gate was choked with the crowd of men,\npursuing and pursued. In that hour would the Greeks have entered Troy,\nand burned the city, and taken the women captive, but Paris stood on the\ntower above the gate, and in his mind was anger for the death of his\nbrother Hector. He tried the string of his bow, and found it frayed, for\nall day he had showered his arrows on the Greeks; so he chose a new\nbowstring, and fitted it, and strung the bow, and chose an arrow from\nhis quiver, and aimed at the ankle of Achilles, where it was bare\nbeneath the greave, or leg-guard of metal, that the God had fashioned\nfor him. Through the ankle flew the arrow, and Achilles wheeled round,\nweak as he was, and stumbled, and fell, and the armour that the God had\nwrought was defiled with dust and blood.\n\nThen Achilles rose again, and cried: 'What coward has smitten me with a\nsecret arrow from afar? Let him stand forth and meet me with sword and\nspear!' So speaking he seized the shaft with his strong hands and tore\nit out of the wound, and much blood gushed, and darkness came over his\neyes. Yet he staggered forward, striking blindly, and smote Orythaon, a\ndear friend of Hector, through the helmet, and others he smote, but now\nhis force failed him, and he leaned on his spear, and cried his warcry,\nand said, 'Cowards of Troy, ye shall not all escape my spear, dying as I\nam.' But as he spoke he fell, and all his armour rang around him, yet\nthe Trojans stood apart and watched; and as hunters watch a dying lion\nnot daring to go nigh him, so the Trojans stood in fear till Achilles\ndrew his latest breath. Then from the wall the Trojan women raised a\ngreat cry of joy over him who had slain the noble Hector: and thus was\nfulfilled the prophecy of Hector, that Achilles should fall in the\nScaean gateway, by the hand of Paris.\n\nThen the best of the Trojans rushed forth from the gate to seize the\nbody of Achilles, and his glorious armour, but the Greeks were as eager\nto carry the body to the ships that it might have due burial. Round the\ndead Achilles men fought long and sore, and both sides were mixed,\nGreeks and Trojans, so that men dared not shoot arrows from the walls of\nTroy lest they should kill their own friends. Paris, and Aeneas, and\nGlaucus, who had been the friend of Sarpedon, led the Trojans, and Aias\nand Ulysses led the Greeks, for we are not told that Agamemnon was\nfighting in this great battle of the war. Now as angry wild bees flock\nround a man who is taking their honeycombs, so the Trojans gathered\nround Aias, striving to stab him, but he set his great shield in front,\nand smote and slew all that came within reach of his spear. Ulysses,\ntoo, struck down many, and though a spear was thrown and pierced his leg\nnear the knee he stood firm, protecting the body of Achilles. At last\nUlysses caught the body of Achilles by the hands, and heaved it upon his\nback, and so limped towards the ships, but Aias and the men of Aias\nfollowed, turning round if ever the Trojans ventured to come near, and\ncharging into the midst of them. Thus very slowly they bore the dead\nAchilles across the plain, through the bodies of the fallen and the\nblood, till they met Nestor in his chariot and placed Achilles therein,\nand swiftly Nestor drove to the ships.\n\nThere the women, weeping, washed Achilles' comely body, and laid him on\na bier with a great white mantle over him, and all the women lamented\nand sang dirges, and the first was Briseis, who loved Achilles better\nthan her own country, and her father, and her brothers whom he had slain\nin war. The Greek princes, too, stood round the body, weeping and\ncutting off their long locks of yellow hair, a token of grief and an\noffering to the dead.\n\nMen say that forth from the sea came Thetis of the silver feet, the\nmother of Achilles, with her ladies, the deathless maidens of the\nwaters. They rose up from their glassy chambers below the sea, moving\non, many and beautiful, like the waves on a summer day, and their sweet\nsong echoed along the shores, and fear came upon the Greeks. Then they\nwould have fled, but Nestor cried: 'Hold, flee not, young lords of the\nAchaeans! Lo, she that comes from the sea is his mother, with the\ndeathless maidens of the waters, to look on the face of her dead son.'\nThen the sea nymphs stood around the dead Achilles and clothed him in\nthe garments of the Gods, fragrant raiment, and all the Nine Muses, one\nto the other replying with sweet voices, began their lament.\n\nNext the Greeks made a great pile of dry wood, and laid Achilles on it,\nand set fire to it, till the flames had consumed his body except the\nwhite ashes. These they placed in a great golden cup and mingled with\nthem the ashes of Patroclus, and above all they built a tomb like a\nhill, high on a headland above the sea, that men for all time may see it\nas they go sailing by, and may remember Achilles. Next they held in his\nhonour foot races and chariot races, and other games, and Thetis gave\nsplendid prizes. Last of all, when the games were ended, Thetis placed\nbefore the chiefs the glorious armour that the God had made for her son\non the night after the slaying of Patroclus by Hector. 'Let these arms\nbe the prize of the best of the Greeks,' she said, 'and of him that\nsaved the body of Achilles out of the hands of the Trojans.'\n\nThen stood up on one side Aias and on the other Ulysses, for these two\nhad rescued the body, and neither thought himself a worse warrior than\nthe other. Both were the bravest of the brave, and if Aias was the\ntaller and stronger, and upheld the fight at the ships on the day of the\nvalour of Hector; Ulysses had alone withstood the Trojans, and refused\nto retreat even when wounded, and his courage and cunning had won for\nthe Greeks the Luck of Troy. Therefore old Nestor arose and said: 'This\nis a luckless day, when the best of the Greeks are rivals for such a\nprize. He who is not the winner will be heavy at heart, and will not\nstand firm by us in battle, as of old, and hence will come great loss to\nthe Greeks. Who can be a just judge in this question, for some men will\nlove Aias better, and some will prefer Ulysses, and thus will arise\ndisputes among ourselves. Lo! have we not here among us many Trojan\nprisoners, waiting till their friends pay their ransom in cattle and\ngold and bronze and iron? These hate all the Greeks alike, and will\nfavour neither Aias nor Ulysses. Let _them_ be the judges, and decide\nwho is the best of the Greeks, and the man who has done most harm to the\nTrojans.'\n\nAgamemnon said that Nestor had spoken wisely. The Trojans were then made\nto sit as judges in the midst of the Assembly, and Aias and Ulysses\nspoke, and told the stories of their own great deeds, of which we have\nheard already, but Aias spoke roughly and discourteously, calling\nUlysses a coward and a weakling. 'Perhaps the Trojans know,' said\nUlysses quietly, 'whether they think that I deserve what Aias has said\nabout me, that I am a coward; and perhaps Aias may remember that he did\nnot find me so weak when we wrestled for a prize at the funeral of\nPatroclus.'\n\nThen the Trojans all with one voice said that Ulysses was the best man\namong the Greeks, and the most feared by them, both for his courage and\nhis skill in stratagems of war. On this, the blood of Aias flew into his\nface, and he stood silent and unmoving, and could not speak a word, till\nhis friends came round him and led him away to his hut, and there he sat\ndown and would not eat or drink, and the night fell.\n\nLong he sat, musing in his mind, and then rose and put on all his\narmour, and seized a sword that Hector had given him one day when they\ntwo fought in a gentle passage of arms, and took courteous farewell of\neach other, and Aias had given Hector a broad sword-belt, wrought with\ngold. This sword, Hector's gift, Aias took, and went towards the hut of\nUlysses, meaning to carve him limb from limb, for madness had come upon\nhim in his great grief. Rushing through the night to slay Ulysses he\nfell upon the flock of sheep that the Greeks kept for their meat. And up\nand down among them he went, smiting blindly till the dawn came, and,\nlo! his senses returned to him, and he saw that he had not smitten\nUlysses, but stood in a pool of blood among the sheep that he had\nslain. He could not endure the disgrace of his madness, and he fixed the\nsword, Hector's gift, with its hilt firmly in the ground, and went back\na little way, and ran and fell upon the sword, which pierced his heart,\nand so died the great Aias, choosing death before a dishonoured life.\n\n\n\n\nXI\n\nULYSSES SAILS TO SEEK THE SON OF ACHILLES.--THE VALOUR OF EURYPYLUS\n\n\nWhen the Greeks found Aias lying dead, slain by his own hand, they made\ngreat lament, and above all the brother of Aias, and his wife Tecmessa\nbewailed him, and the shores of the sea rang with their sorrow. But of\nall no man was more grieved than Ulysses, and he stood up and said:\n'Would that the sons of the Trojans had never awarded to me the arms of\nAchilles, for far rather would I have given them to Aias than that this\nloss should have befallen the whole army of the Greeks. Let no man blame\nme, or be angry with me, for I have not sought for wealth, to enrich\nmyself, but for honour only, and to win a name that will be remembered\namong men in times to come.' Then they made a great fire of wood, and\nburned the body of Aias, lamenting him as they had sorrowed for\nAchilles.\n\nNow it seemed that though the Greeks had won the Luck of Troy and had\ndefeated the Amazons and the army of Memnon, they were no nearer taking\nTroy than ever. They had slain Hector, indeed, and many other Trojans,\nbut they had lost the great Achilles, and Aias, and Patroclus, and\nAntilochus, with the princes whom Penthesilea and Memnon slew, and the\nbands of the dead chiefs were weary of fighting, and eager to go home.\nThe chiefs met in council, and Menelaus arose and said that his heart\nwas wasted with sorrow for the death of so many brave men who had sailed\nto Troy for his sake. 'Would that death had come upon me before I\ngathered this host,' he said, 'but come, let the rest of us launch our\nswift ships, and return each to our own country.'\n\nHe spoke thus to try the Greeks, and see of what courage they were, for\nhis desire was still to burn Troy town and to slay Paris with his own\nhand. Then up rose Diomede, and swore that never would the Greeks turn\ncowards. No! he bade them sharpen their swords, and make ready for\nbattle. The prophet Calchas, too, arose and reminded the Greeks how he\nhad always foretold that they would take Troy in the tenth year of the\nsiege, and how the tenth year had come, and victory was almost in their\nhands. Next Ulysses stood up and said that, though Achilles was dead,\nand there was no prince to lead his men, yet a son had been born to\nAchilles, while he was in the isle of Scyros, and that son he would\nbring to fill his father's place.\n\n'Surely he will come, and for a token I will carry to him those unhappy\narms of the great Achilles. Unworthy am I to wear them, and they bring\nback to my mind our sorrow for Aias. But his son will wear them, in the\nfront of the spearmen of Greece and in the thickest ranks of Troy shall\nthe helmet of Achilles shine, as it was wont to do, for always he fought\namong the foremost.' Thus Ulysses spoke, and he and Diomede, with fifty\noarsmen, went on board a swift ship, and sitting all in order on the\nbenches they smote the grey sea into foam, and Ulysses held the helm and\nsteered them towards the isle of Scyros.\n\nNow the Trojans had rest from war for a while, and Priam, with a heavy\nheart, bade men take his chief treasure, the great golden vine, with\nleaves and clusters of gold, and carry it to the mother of Eurypylus,\nthe king of the people who dwell where the wide marshlands of the river\nCaycus clang with the cries of the cranes and herons and wild swans. For\nthe mother of Eurypylus had sworn that never would she let her son go to\nthe war unless Priam sent her the vine of gold, a gift of the gods to an\nancient King of Troy.\n\nWith a heavy heart, then, Priam sent the golden vine, but Eurypylus was\nglad when he saw it, and bade all his men arm, and harness the horses to\nthe chariots, and glad were the Trojans when the long line of the new\narmy wound along the road and into the town. Then Paris welcomed\nEurypylus who was his nephew, son of his sister Astyoche, a daughter of\nPriam; but the grandfather of Eurypylus was the famous Heracles, the\nstrongest man who ever lived on earth. So Paris brought Eurypylus to his\nhouse, where Helen sat working at her embroideries with her four bower\nmaidens, and Eurypylus marvelled when he saw her, she was so beautiful.\nBut the Khita, the people of Eurypylus, feasted in the open air among\nthe Trojans, by the light of great fires burning, and to the music of\npipes and flutes. The Greeks saw the fires, and heard the merry music,\nand they watched all night lest the Trojans should attack the ships\nbefore the dawn. But in the dawn Eurypylus rose from sleep and put on\nhis armour, and hung from his neck by the belt the great shield on which\nwere fashioned, in gold of many colours and in silver, the Twelve\nAdventures of Heracles, his grandfather; strange deeds that he did,\nfighting with monsters and giants and with the Hound of Hades, who\nguards the dwellings of the dead. Then Eurypylus led on his whole army,\nand with the brothers of Hector he charged against the Greeks, who were\nled by Agamemnon.\n\nIn that battle Eurypylus first smote Nireus, who was the most beautiful\nof the Greeks now that Achilles had fallen. There lay Nireus, like an\napple tree, all covered with blossoms red and white, that the wind has\noverthrown in a rich man's orchard. Then Eurypylus would have stripped\noff his armour, but Machaon rushed in, Machaon who had been wounded and\ntaken to the tent of Nestor, on the day of the Valour of Hector, when he\nbrought fire against the ships. Machaon drove his spear through the left\nshoulder of Eurypylus, but Eurypylus struck at his shoulder with his\nsword, and the blood flowed; nevertheless, Machaon stooped, and grasped\na great stone, and sent it against the helmet of Eurypylus. He was\nshaken, but he did not fall, he drove his spear through breastplate and\nbreast of Machaon, who fell and died. With his last breath he said,\n'Thou, too, shalt fall,' but Eurypylus made answer, 'So let it be! Men\ncannot live for ever, and such is the fortune of war.'\n\nThus the battle rang, and shone, and shifted, till few of the Greeks\nkept steadfast, except those with Menelaus and Agamemnon, for Diomede\nand Ulysses were far away upon the sea, bringing from Scyros the son of\nAchilles. But Teucer slew Polydamas, who had warned Hector to come\nwithin the walls of Troy; and Menelaus wounded Deiphobus, the bravest of\nthe sons of Priam who were still in arms, for many had fallen; and\nAgamemnon slew certain spearmen of the Trojans. Round Eurypylus fought\nParis, and Aeneas, who wounded Teucer with a great stone, breaking in\nhis helmet, but he drove back in his chariot to the ships. Menelaus and\nAgamemnon stood alone and fought in the crowd of Trojans, like two wild\nboars that a circle of hunters surrounds with spears, so fiercely they\nstood at bay. There they would both have fallen, but Idomeneus, and\nMeriones of Crete, and Thrasymedes, Nestor's son, ran to their rescue,\nand fiercer grew the fighting. Eurypylus desired to slay Agamemnon and\nMenelaus, and end the war, but, as the spears of the Scots encompassed\nKing James at Flodden Field till he ran forward, and fell within a\nlance's length of the English general, so the men of Crete and Pylos\nguarded the two princes with their spears.\n\nThere Paris was wounded in the thigh with a spear, and he retreated a\nlittle way, and showered his arrows among the Greeks; and Idomeneus\nlifted and hurled a great stone at Eurypylus which struck his spear out\nof his hand, and he went back to find it, and Menelaus and Agamemnon had\na breathing space in the battle. But soon Eurypylus returned, crying on\nhis men, and they drove back foot by foot the ring of spears round\nAgamemnon, and Aeneas and Paris slew men of Crete and of Mycenae till\nthe Greeks were pushed to the ditch round the camp; and then great\nstones and spears and arrows rained down on the Trojans and the people\nof Eurypylus from the battlements and towers of the Grecian wall. Now\nnight fell, and Eurypylus knew that he could not win the wall in the\ndark, so he withdrew his men, and they built great fires, and camped\nupon the plain.\n\nThe case of the Greeks was now like that of the Trojans after the death\nof Hector. They buried Machaon and the other chiefs who had fallen, and\nthey remained within their ditch and their wall, for they dared not come\nout into the open plain. They knew not whether Ulysses and Diomede had\ncome safely to Scyros, or whether their ship had been wrecked or driven\ninto unknown seas. So they sent a herald to Eurypylus, asking for a\ntruce, that they might gather their dead and burn them, and the Trojans\nand Khita also buried their dead.\n\nMeanwhile the swift ship of Ulysses had swept through the sea to Scyros,\nand to the palace of King Lycomedes. There they found Neoptolemus, the\nson of Achilles, in the court before the doors. He was as tall as his\nfather, and very like him in face and shape, and he was practising the\nthrowing of the spear at a mark. Right glad were Ulysses and Diomede to\nbehold him, and Ulysses told Neoptolemus who they were, and why they\ncame, and implored him to take pity on the Greeks and help them.\n\n'My friend is Diomede, Prince of Argos,' said Ulysses, 'and I am Ulysses\nof Ithaca. Come with us, and we Greeks will give you countless gifts,\nand I myself will present you with the armour of your father, such as it\nis not lawful for any other mortal man to wear, seeing that it is\ngolden, and wrought by the hands of a God. Moreover, when we have taken\nTroy, and gone home, Menelaus will give you his daughter, the beautiful\nHermione, to be your wife, with gold in great plenty.'\n\nThen Neoptolemus answered: 'It is enough that the Greeks need my sword.\nTo-morrow we shall sail for Troy.' He led them into the palace to dine,\nand there they found his mother, beautiful Deidamia, in mourning\nraiment, and she wept when she heard that they had come to take her son\naway. But Neoptolemus comforted her, promising to return safely with the\nspoils of Troy, 'or, even if I fall,' he said, 'it will be after doing\ndeeds worthy of my father's name.' So next day they sailed, leaving\nDeidamia mournful, like a swallow whose nest a serpent has found, and\nhas killed her young ones; even so she wailed, and went up and down in\nthe house. But the ship ran swiftly on her way, cleaving the dark waves\ntill Ulysses showed Neoptolemus the far off snowy crest of Mount Ida;\nand Tenedos, the island near Troy; and they passed the plain where the\ntomb of Achilles stands, but Ulysses did not tell the son that it was\nhis father's tomb.\n\nNow all this time the Greeks, shut up within their wall and fighting\nfrom their towers, were looking back across the sea, eager to spy the\nship of Ulysses, like men wrecked on a desert island, who keep watch\nevery day for a sail afar off, hoping that the seamen will touch at\ntheir isle and have pity upon them, and carry them home, so the Greeks\nkept watch for the ship bearing Neoptolemus.\n\nDiomede, too, had been watching the shore, and when they came in sight\nof the ships of the Greeks, he saw that they were being besieged by the\nTrojans, and that all the Greek army was penned up within the wall, and\nwas fighting from the towers. Then he cried aloud to Ulysses and\nNeoptolemus, 'Make haste, friends, let us arm before we land, for some\ngreat evil has fallen upon the Greeks. The Trojans are attacking our\nwall, and soon they will burn our ships, and for us there will be no\nreturn.'\n\nThen all the men on the ship of Ulysses armed themselves, and\nNeoptolemus, in the splendid armour of his father, was the first to leap\nashore. The Greeks could not come from the wall to welcome him, for they\nwere fighting hard and hand-to-hand with Eurypylus and his men. But they\nglanced back over their shoulders and it seemed to them that they saw\nAchilles himself, spear and sword in hand, rushing to help them. They\nraised a great battle-cry, and, when Neoptolemus reached the\nbattlements, he and Ulysses, and Diomede leaped down to the plain, the\nGreeks following them, and they all charged at once on the men of\nEurypylus, with levelled spears, and drove them from the wall.\n\nThen the Trojans trembled, for they knew the shields of Diomede and\nUlysses, and they thought that the tall chief in the armour of Achilles\nwas Achilles himself, come back from the land of the dead to take\nvengeance for Antilochus. The Trojans fled, and gathered round\nEurypylus, as in a thunderstorm little children, afraid of the lightning\nand the noise, run and cluster round their father, and hide their faces\non his knees.\n\nBut Neoptolemus was spearing the Trojans, as a man who carries at night\na beacon of fire in his boat on the sea spears the fishes that flock\naround, drawn by the blaze of the flame. Cruelly he avenged his father's\ndeath on many a Trojan, and the men whom Achilles had led followed\nAchilles' son, slaying to right and left, and smiting the Trojans, as\nthey ran, between the shoulders with the spear. Thus they fought and\nfollowed while daylight lasted, but when night fell, they led\nNeoptolemus to his father's hut, where the women washed him in the bath,\nand then he was taken to feast with Agamemnon and Menelaus and the\nprinces. They all welcomed him, and gave him glorious gifts, swords with\nsilver hilts, and cups of gold and silver, and they were glad, for they\nhad driven the Trojans from their wall, and hoped that to-morrow they\nwould slay Eurypylus, and take Troy town.\n\nBut their hope was not to be fulfilled, for though next day Eurypylus\nmet Neoptolemus in the battle, and was slain by him, when the Greeks\nchased the Trojans into their city so great a storm of lightning and\nthunder and rain fell upon them that they retreated again to their camp.\nThey believed that Zeus, the chief of the Gods, was angry with them, and\nthe days went by, and Troy still stood unconquered.\n\n\n\n\nXII\n\nTHE SLAYING OF PARIS\n\n\nWhen the Greeks were disheartened, as they often were, they consulted\nCalchas the prophet. He usually found that they must do something, or\nsend for somebody, and in doing so they diverted their minds from their\nmany misfortunes. Now, as the Trojans were fighting more bravely than\nbefore, under Deiphobus, a brother of Hector, the Greeks went to Calchas\nfor advice, and he told them that they must send Ulysses and Diomede to\nbring Philoctetes the bowman from the isle of Lemnos. This was an\nunhappy deserted island, in which the married women, some years before,\nhad murdered all their husbands, out of jealousy, in a single night. The\nGreeks had landed in Lemnos, on their way to Troy, and there Philoctetes\nhad shot an arrow at a great water dragon which lived in a well within a\ncave in the lonely hills. But when he entered the cave the dragon bit\nhim, and, though he killed it at last, its poisonous teeth wounded his\nfoot. The wound never healed, but dripped with venom, and Philoctetes,\nin terrible pain, kept all the camp awake at night by his cries.\n\nThe Greeks were sorry for him, but he was not a pleasant companion,\nshrieking as he did, and exuding poison wherever he came. So they left\nhim on the lonely island, and did not know whether he was alive or\ndead. Calchas ought to have told the Greeks not to desert Philoctetes at\nthe time, if he was so important that Troy, as the prophet now said,\ncould not be taken without him. But now, as he must give some advice,\nCalchas said that Philoctetes must be brought back, so Ulysses and\nDiomede went to bring him. They sailed to Lemnos, a melancholy place\nthey found it, with no smoke rising from the ruinous houses along the\nshore. As they were landing they learned that Philoctetes was not dead,\nfor his dismal old cries of pain, _ototototoi, ai, ai; pheu, pheu;\nototototoi_, came echoing from a cave on the beach. To this cave the\nprinces went, and found a terrible-looking man, with long, dirty, dry\nhair and beard; he was worn to a skeleton, with hollow eyes, and lay\nmoaning in a mass of the feathers of sea birds. His great bow and his\narrows lay ready to his hand: with these he used to shoot the sea birds,\nwhich were all that he had to eat, and their feathers littered all the\nfloor of his cave, and they were none the better for the poison that\ndripped from his wounded foot.\n\nWhen this horrible creature saw Ulysses and Diomede coming near, he\nseized his bow and fitted a poisonous arrow to the string, for he hated\nthe Greeks, because they had left him in the desert isle. But the\nprinces held up their hands in sign of peace, and cried out that they\nhad come to do him kindness, so he laid down his bow, and they came in\nand sat on the rocks, and promised that his wound should be healed, for\nthe Greeks were very much ashamed of having deserted him. It was\ndifficult to resist Ulysses when he wished to persuade any one, and at\nlast Philoctetes consented to sail with them to Troy. The oarsmen\ncarried him down to the ship on a litter, and there his dreadful wound\nwas washed with warm water, and oil was poured into it, and it was\nbound up with soft linen, so that his pain grew less fierce, and they\ngave him a good supper and wine enough, which he had not tasted for many\nyears.\n\nNext morning they sailed, and had a fair west wind, so that they soon\nlanded among the Greeks and carried Philoctetes on shore. Here\nPodaleirius, the brother of Machaon, being a physician, did all that\ncould be done to heal the wound, and the pain left Philoctetes. He was\ntaken to the hut of Agamemnon, who welcomed him, and said that the\nGreeks repented of their cruelty. They gave him seven female slaves to\ntake care of him, and twenty swift horses, and twelve great vessels of\nbronze, and told him that he was always to live with the greatest chiefs\nand feed at their table. So he was bathed, and his hair was cut and\ncombed and anointed with oil, and soon he was eager and ready to fight,\nand to use his great bow and poisoned arrows on the Trojans. The use of\npoisoned arrow-tips was thought unfair, but Philoctetes had no scruples.\n\nNow in the next battle Paris was shooting down the Greeks with his\narrows, when Philoctetes saw him, and cried: 'Dog, you are proud of your\narchery and of the arrow that slew the great Achilles. But, behold, I am\na better bowman than you, by far, and the bow in my hands was borne by\nthe strong man Heracles!' So he cried and drew the bowstring to his\nbreast and the poisoned arrowhead to the bow, and the bowstring rang,\nand the arrow flew, and did but graze the hand of Paris. Then the bitter\npain of the poison came upon him, and the Trojans carried him into their\ncity, where the physicians tended him all night. But he never slept, and\nlay tossing in agony till dawn, when he said: 'There is but one hope.\nTake me to Oenone, the nymph of Mount Ida!'\n\nThen his friends laid Paris on a litter, and bore him up the steep path\nto Mount Ida. Often had he climbed it swiftly, when he was young, and\nwent to see the nymph who loved him; but for many a day he had not trod\nthe path where he was now carried in great pain and fear, for the poison\nturned his blood to fire. Little hope he had, for he knew how cruelly he\nhad deserted Oenone, and he saw that all the birds which were\ndisturbed in the wood flew away to the left hand, an omen of evil.\n\nAt last the bearers reached the cave where the nymph Oenone lived, and\nthey smelled the sweet fragrance of the cedar fire that burned on the\nfloor of the cave, and they heard the nymph singing a melancholy song.\nThen Paris called to her in the voice which she had once loved to hear,\nand she grew very pale, and rose up, saying to herself, 'The day has\ncome for which I have prayed. He is sore hurt, and has come to bid me\nheal his wound.' So she came and stood in the doorway of the dark cave,\nwhite against the darkness, and the bearers laid Paris on the litter at\nthe feet of Oenone, and he stretched forth his hands to touch her\nknees, as was the manner of suppliants. But she drew back and gathered\nher robe about her, that he might not touch it with his hands.\n\nThen he said: 'Lady, despise me not, and hate me not, for my pain is\nmore than I can bear. Truly it was by no will of mine that I left you\nlonely here, for the Fates that no man may escape led me to Helen. Would\nthat I had died in your arms before I saw her face! But now I beseech\nyou in the name of the Gods, and for the memory of our love, that you\nwill have pity on me and heal my hurt, and not refuse your grace and let\nme die here at your feet.'\n\n[Illustration: PARIS COMES BACK TO OENONE.]\n\nThen Oenone answered scornfully: 'Why have you come here to me? Surely\nfor years you have not come this way, where the path was once worn with\nyour feet. But long ago you left me lonely and lamenting, for the love\nof Helen of the fair hands. Surely she is much more beautiful than the\nlove of your youth, and far more able to help you, for men say that she\ncan never know old age and death. Go home to Helen and let her take away\nyour pain.'\n\nThus Oenone spoke, and went within the cave, where she threw herself\ndown among the ashes of the hearth and sobbed for anger and sorrow. In a\nlittle while she rose and went to the door of the cave, thinking that\nParis had not been borne away back to Troy, but she found him not; for\nhis bearers had carried him by another path, till he died beneath the\nboughs of the oak trees. Then his bearers carried him swiftly down to\nTroy, where his mother bewailed him, and Helen sang over him as she had\nsung over Hector, remembering many things, and fearing to think of what\nher own end might be. But the Trojans hastily built a great pile of dry\nwood, and thereon laid the body of Paris and set fire to it, and the\nflame went up through the darkness, for now night had fallen.\n\nBut Oenone was roaming in the dark woods, crying and calling after\nParis, like a lioness whose cubs the hunters have carried away. The moon\nrose to give her light, and the flame of the funeral fire shone against\nthe sky, and then Oenone knew that Paris had died--beautiful\nParis--and that the Trojans were burning his body on the plain at the\nfoot of Mount Ida. Then she cried that now Paris was all her own, and\nthat Helen had no more hold on him: 'And though when he was living he\nleft me, in death we shall not be divided,' she said, and she sped down\nthe hill, and through the thickets where the wood nymphs were wailing\nfor Paris, and she reached the plain, and, covering her head with her\nveil like a bride, she rushed through the throng of Trojans. She leaped\nupon the burning pile of wood, she clasped the body of Paris in her\narms, and the flame of fire consumed the bridegroom and the bride, and\ntheir ashes mingled. No man could divide them any more, and the ashes\nwere placed in a golden cup, within a chamber of stone, and the earth\nwas mounded above them. On that grave the wood nymphs planted two rose\ntrees, and their branches met and plaited together.\n\nThis was the end of Paris and Oenone.\n\n\n\n\nXIII\n\nHOW ULYSSES INVENTED THE DEVICE OF THE HORSE OF TREE\n\n\nAfter Paris died, Helen was not given back to Menelaus. We are often\ntold that only fear of the anger of Paris had prevented the Trojans from\nsurrendering Helen and making peace. Now Paris could not terrify them,\nyet for all that the men of the town would not part with Helen, whether\nbecause she was so beautiful, or because they thought it dishonourable\nto yield her to the Greeks, who might put her to a cruel death. So Helen\nwas taken by Deiphobus, the brother of Paris, to live in his own house,\nand Deiphobus was at this time the best warrior and the chief captain of\nthe men of Troy.\n\nMeanwhile, the Greeks made an assault against the Trojan walls and\nfought long and hardily; but, being safe behind the battlements, and\nshooting through loopholes, the Trojans drove them back with loss of\nmany of their men. It was in vain that Philoctetes shot his poisoned\narrows, they fell back from the stone walls, or stuck in the palisades\nof wood above the walls, and the Greeks who tried to climb over were\nspeared, or crushed with heavy stones. When night fell, they retreated\nto the ships and held a council, and, as usual, they asked the advice of\nthe prophet Calchas. It was the business of Calchas to go about looking\nat birds, and taking omens from what he saw them doing, a way of\nprophesying which the Romans also used, and some savages do the same to\nthis day. Calchas said that yesterday he had seen a hawk pursuing a\ndove, which hid herself in a hole in a rocky cliff. For a long while the\nhawk tried to find the hole, and follow the dove into it, but he could\nnot reach her. So he flew away for a short distance and hid himself;\nthen the dove fluttered out into the sunlight, and the hawk swooped on\nher and killed her.\n\nThe Greeks, said Calchas, ought to learn a lesson from the hawk, and\ntake Troy by cunning, as by force they could do nothing. Then Ulysses\nstood up and described a trick which it is not easy to understand. The\nGreeks, he said, ought to make an enormous hollow horse of wood, and\nplace the bravest men in the horse. Then all the rest of the Greeks\nshould embark in their ships and sail to the Isle of Tenedos, and lie\nhidden behind the island. The Trojans would then come out of the city,\nlike the dove out of her hole in the rock, and would wander about the\nGreek camp, and wonder why the great horse of tree had been made, and\nwhy it had been left behind. Lest they should set fire to the horse,\nwhen they would soon have found out the warriors hidden in it, a cunning\nGreek, whom the Trojans did not know by sight, should be left in the\ncamp or near it. He would tell the Trojans that the Greeks had given up\nall hope and gone home, and he was to say that they feared the Goddess\nPallas was angry with them, because they had stolen her image that fell\nfrom heaven, and was called the Luck of Troy. To soothe Pallas and\nprevent her from sending great storms against the ships, the Greeks (so\nthe man was to say) had built this wooden horse as an offering to the\nGoddess. The Trojans, believing this story, would drag the horse into\nTroy, and, in the night, the princes would come out, set fire to the\ncity, and open the gates to the army, which would return from Tenedos as\nsoon as darkness came on.\n\nThe prophet was much pleased with the plan of Ulysses, and, as two birds\nhappened to fly away on the right hand, he declared that the stratagem\nwould certainly be lucky. Neoptolemus, on the other hand, voted for\ntaking Troy, without any trick, by sheer hard fighting. Ulysses replied\nthat if Achilles could not do that, it could not be done at all, and\nthat Epeius, a famous carpenter, had better set about making the horse\nat once.\n\nNext day half the army, with axes in their hands, were sent to cut down\ntrees on Mount Ida, and thousands of planks were cut from the trees by\nEpeius and his workmen, and in three days he had finished the horse.\nUlysses then asked the best of the Greeks to come forward and go inside\nthe machine; while one, whom the Greeks did not know by sight, should\nvolunteer to stay behind in the camp and deceive the Trojans. Then a\nyoung man called Sinon stood up and said that he would risk himself and\ntake the chance that the Trojans might disbelieve him, and burn him\nalive. Certainly, none of the Greeks did anything more courageous, yet\nSinon had not been considered brave. Had he fought in the front ranks,\nthe Trojans would have known him; but there were many brave fighters who\nwould not have dared to do what Sinon undertook.\n\nThen old Nestor was the first that volunteered to go into the horse; but\nNeoptolemus said that, brave as he was, he was too old, and that he must\ndepart with the army to Tenedos. Neoptolemus himself would go into the\nhorse, for he would rather die than turn his back on Troy. So\nNeoptolemus armed himself and climbed into the horse, as did Menelaus,\nUlysses, Diomede, Thrasymedes (Nestor's son), Idomeneus, Philoctetes,\nMeriones, and all the best men except Agamemnon, while Epeius himself\nentered last of all. Agamemnon was not allowed by the other Greeks to\nshare their adventure, as he was to command the army when they returned\nfrom Tenedos. They meanwhile launched their ships and sailed away.\n\nBut first Menelaus had led Ulysses apart, and told him that if they took\nTroy (and now they must either take it or die at the hands of the\nTrojans), he would owe to Ulysses the glory. When they came back to\nGreece, he wished to give Ulysses one of his own cities, that they might\nalways be near each other. Ulysses smiled and shook his head; he could\nnot leave Ithaca, his own rough island kingdom. 'But if we both live\nthrough the night that is coming,' he said, 'I may ask you for one gift,\nand giving it will make you none the poorer.' Then Menelaus swore by the\nsplendour of Zeus that Ulysses could ask him for no gift that he would\nnot gladly give; so they embraced, and both armed themselves and went up\ninto the horse. With them were all the chiefs except Nestor, whom they\nwould not allow to come, and Agamemnon, who, as chief general, had to\ncommand the army. They swathed themselves and their arms in soft silks,\nthat they might not ring and clash, when the Trojans, if they were so\nfoolish, dragged the horse up into their town, and there they sat in the\ndark waiting. Meanwhile, the army burned their huts and launched their\nships, and with oars and sails made their way to the back of the isle of\nTenedos.\n\n\n\n\nXIV\n\nTHE END OF TROY AND THE SAVING OF HELEN\n\n\nFrom the walls the Trojans saw the black smoke go up thick into the sky,\nand the whole fleet of the Greeks sailing out to sea. Never were men so\nglad, and they armed themselves for fear of an ambush, and went\ncautiously, sending forth scouts in front of them, down to the seashore.\nHere they found the huts burned down and the camp deserted, and some of\nthe scouts also caught Sinon, who had hid himself in a place where he\nwas likely to be found. They rushed on him with fierce cries, and bound\nhis hands with a rope, and kicked and dragged him along to the place\nwhere Priam and the princes were wondering at the great horse of tree.\nSinon looked round upon them, while some were saying that he ought to be\ntortured with fire to make him tell all the truth about the horse. The\nchiefs in the horse must have trembled for fear lest torture should\nwring the truth out of Sinon, for then the Trojans would simply burn the\nmachine and them within it.\n\nBut Sinon said: 'Miserable man that I am, whom the Greeks hate and the\nTrojans are eager to slay!' When the Trojans heard that the Greeks hated\nhim, they were curious, and asked who he was, and how he came to be\nthere. 'I will tell you all, oh King!' he answered Priam. 'I was a\nfriend and squire of an unhappy chief, Palamedes, whom the wicked\nUlysses hated and slew secretly one day, when he found him alone,\nfishing in the sea. I was angry, and in my folly I did not hide my\nanger, and my words came to the ears of Ulysses. From that hour he\nsought occasion to slay me. Then Calchas----' here he stopped, saying:\n'But why tell a long tale? If you hate all Greeks alike, then slay me;\nthis is what Agamemnon and Ulysses desire; Menelaus would thank you for\nmy head.'\n\nThe Trojans were now more curious than before. They bade him go on, and\nhe said that the Greeks had consulted an Oracle, which advised them to\nsacrifice one of their army to appease the anger of the Gods and gain a\nfair wind homewards. 'But who was to be sacrificed? They asked Calchas,\nwho for fifteen days refused to speak. At last, being bribed by Ulysses,\nhe pointed to me, Sinon, and said that I must be the victim. I was bound\nand kept in prison, while they built their great horse as a present for\nPallas Athene the Goddess. They made it so large that you Trojans might\nnever be able to drag it into your city; while, if you destroyed it, the\nGoddess might turn her anger against you. And now they have gone home to\nbring back the image that fell from heaven, which they had sent to\nGreece, and to restore it to the Temple of Pallas Athene, when they have\ntaken your town, for the Goddess is angry with them for that theft of\nUlysses.'\n\nThe Trojans were foolish enough to believe the story of Sinon, and they\npitied him and unbound his hands. Then they tied ropes to the wooden\nhorse, and laid rollers in front of it, like men launching a ship, and\nthey all took turns to drag the horse up to the Scaean gate. Children\nand women put their hands to the ropes and hauled, and with shouts and\ndances, and hymns they toiled, till about nightfall the horse stood in\nthe courtyard of the inmost castle.\n\nThen all the people of Troy began to dance, and drink, and sing. Such\nsentinels as were set at the gates got as drunk as all the rest, who\ndanced about the city till after midnight, and then they went to their\nhomes and slept heavily.\n\nMeanwhile the Greek ships were returning from behind Tenedos as fast as\nthe oarsmen could row them.\n\nOne Trojan did not drink or sleep; this was Deiphobus, at whose house\nHelen was now living. He bade her come with them, for he knew that she\nwas able to speak in the very voice of all men and women whom she had\never seen, and he armed a few of his friends and went with them to the\ncitadel. Then he stood beside the horse, holding Helen's hand, and\nwhispered to her that she must call each of the chiefs in the voice of\nhis wife. She was obliged to obey, and she called Menelaus in her own\nvoice, and Diomede in the voice of his wife, and Ulysses in the very\nvoice of Penelope. Then Menelaus and Diomede were eager to answer, but\nUlysses grasped their hands and whispered the word 'Echo!' Then they\nremembered that this was a name of Helen, because she could speak in all\nvoices, and they were silent; but Anticlus was still eager to answer,\ntill Ulysses held his strong hand over his mouth. There was only\nsilence, and Deiphobus led Helen back to his house. When they had gone\naway Epeius opened the side of the horse, and all the chiefs let\nthemselves down softly to the ground. Some rushed to the gate, to open\nit, and they killed the sleeping sentinels and let in the Greeks. Others\nsped with torches to burn the houses of the Trojan princes, and\nterrible was the slaughter of men, unarmed and half awake, and loud were\nthe cries of the women. But Ulysses had slipped away at the first, none\nknew where. Neoptolemus ran to the palace of Priam, who was sitting at\nthe altar in his courtyard, praying vainly to the Gods, for Neoptolemus\nslew the old man cruelly, and his white hair was dabbled in his blood.\nAll through the city was fighting and slaying; but Menelaus went to the\nhouse of Deiphobus, knowing that Helen was there.\n\nIn the doorway he found Deiphobus lying dead in all his armour, a spear\nstanding in his breast. There were footprints marked in blood, leading\nthrough the portico and into the hall. There Menelaus went, and found\nUlysses leaning, wounded, against one of the central pillars of the\ngreat chamber, the firelight shining on his armour.\n\n'Why hast thou slain Deiphobus and robbed me of my revenge?' said\nMenelaus. 'You swore to give me a gift,' said Ulysses, 'and will you\nkeep your oath?' 'Ask what you will,' said Menelaus; 'it is yours and my\noath cannot be broken.' 'I ask the life of Helen of the fair hands,'\nsaid Ulysses; 'this is my own life-price that I pay back to her, for she\nsaved my life when I took the Luck of Troy, and I swore that hers should\nbe saved.'\n\nThen Helen stole, glimmering in white robes, from a recess in the dark\nhall, and fell at the feet of Menelaus; her golden hair lay in the dust\nof the hearth, and her hands moved to touch his knees. His drawn sword\nfell from the hands of Menelaus, and pity and love came into his heart,\nand he raised her from the dust and her white arms were round his neck,\nand they both wept. That night Menelaus fought no more, but they tended\nthe wound of Ulysses, for the sword of Deiphobus had bitten through his\nhelmet.\n\nWhen dawn came Troy lay in ashes, and the women were being driven with\nspear shafts to the ships, and the men were left unburied, a prey to\ndogs and all manner of birds. Thus the grey city fell, that had lorded\nit for many centuries. All the gold and silver and rich embroideries,\nand ivory and amber, the horses and chariots, were divided among the\narmy; all but a treasure of silver and gold, hidden in a chest within a\nhollow of the wall, and this treasure was found, not very many years\nago, by men digging deep on the hill where Troy once stood. The women,\ntoo, were given to the princes, and Neoptolemus took Andromache to his\nhome in Argos, to draw water from the well and to be the slave of a\nmaster, and Agamemnon carried beautiful Cassandra, the daughter of\nPriam, to his palace in Mycenae, where they were both slain in one\nnight. Only Helen was led with honour to the ship of Menelaus.\n\n[Illustration: MENELAUS REFRAINS FROM KILLING HELEN AT THE INTERCESSION\nOF ULYSSES.]\n\n\n\n\nTHE WANDERINGS OF ULYSSES\n\n\n\n\nI\n\nTHE SLAYING OF AGAMEMNON AND THE SORROWS OF ULYSSES\n\n\nThe Greeks left Troy a mass of smouldering ashes; the marks of fire are\nstill to be seen in the ruins on the hill which is now called Hissarlik.\nThe Greeks had many troubles on their way home, and years passed before\nsome of the chiefs reached their own cities. As for Agamemnon, while he\nwas at Troy his wife, Clytaemnestra, the sister of Helen, had fallen in\nlove with a young man named Aegisthus, who wished to be king, so he\nmarried Clytaemnestra, just as if Agamemnon had been dead. Meanwhile\nAgamemnon was sailing home with his share of the wealth of Troy, and\nmany a storm drove him out of his course. At last he reached the\nharbour, about seven miles from his city of Mycenae, and he kissed the\nearth when he landed, thinking that all his troubles were over, and that\nhe would find his son and daughter, Orestes and Electra, grown up, and\nhis wife happy because of his return.\n\nBut Aegisthus had set, a year before, a watchman on a high tower, to\ncome with the news as soon as Agamemnon landed, and the watchman ran to\nMycenae with the good news. Aegisthus placed twenty armed men in a\nhidden place in the great hall, and then he shouted for his chariots\nand horses, and drove down to meet Agamemnon, and welcome him, and carry\nhim to his own palace. Then he gave a great feast, and when men had\ndrunk much wine, the armed men, who had been hiding behind curtains,\nrushed out, with sword and spear, and fell on Agamemnon and his company.\nThough taken by surprise they drew their swords, and fought so well for\ntheir lives that none were left alive, not one, neither of the company\nof Agamemnon nor of the company of Aegisthus; they were all slain in the\nhall except Aegisthus, who had hidden himself when the fray began. The\nbodies lay round the great mixing bowl of wine, and about the tables,\nand the floor ran with blood. Before Agamemnon died he saw Clytaemnestra\nherself stab Cassandra, the daughter of Priam, whom he had brought from\nTroy.\n\nIn the town of Agamemnon, Mycenae, deep down in the earth, have been\nfound five graves, with bones of men and women, and these bones were all\ncovered with beautiful ornaments of gold, hundreds of them, and swords\nand daggers inlaid with gold, and golden cups, and a sceptre of gold and\ncrystal, and two gold breastplates. There were also golden masks that\nhad been made to cover the faces of the dead kings, and who knows but\nthat one of these masks may show us the features of the famous\nAgamemnon?\n\nUlysses, of course, knew nothing about these murders at the time, for he\nwas being borne by the winds into undiscovered seas. But later he heard\nall the story from the ghost of a dead prophet, in the Land of the Dead,\nand he determined to be very cautious if ever he reached his own island,\nfor who knew what the young men might do, that had grown up since he\nsailed to Troy?\n\nOf the other Greeks Nestor soon and safely arrived at his town of Pylos,\nbut Menelaus and Helen were borne by the winds to Egypt and other\nstrange countries, and the ship of the brother of Aias was wrecked on a\nrock, and there he was drowned, and Calchas the prophet died on land, on\nhis way across Greece.\n\nWhen Ulysses left Troy the wind carried him to the coast of Thrace,\nwhere the people were allies of the Trojans. It was a king of the\nThracians that Diomede killed when he and Ulysses stole into the camp of\nthe Trojans in the night, and drove away the white horses of the king,\nas swift as the winds. Ismarus was the name of the Thracian town where\nUlysses landed, and his men took it and plundered it, yet Ulysses\nallowed no one to harm the priest of Apollo, Maron, but protected him\nand his wife and child, in their house within the holy grove of the God.\nMaron was grateful, and gave Ulysses twelve talents, or little wedges,\nof gold, and a great bowl of silver, and twelve large clay jars, as big\nas barrels, full of the best and strongest wine. It was so strong that\nmen put into the mixing bowl but one measure of wine to twenty measures\nof water. These presents Ulysses stored up in his ship, and lucky for\nhim it was that he was kind to Maron.\n\nMeanwhile his men, instead of leaving the town with their plunder, sat\neating and drinking till dawn. By that time the people of the town had\nwarned their neighbours in the country farms, who all came down in full\narmour, and attacked the men of Ulysses. In this fight he lost\nseventy-two men, six from each of his twelve ships, and it was only by\nhard fighting that the others were able to get on board their ships and\nsail away.\n\nA great storm arose and beat upon the ships, and it seems that Ulysses\nand his men were driven into Fairyland, where they remained for ten\nyears. We have heard that King Arthur and Thomas the Rhymer were carried\ninto Fairyland, but what adventures they met with there we do not know.\nAbout Ulysses we have the stories which are now to be told. For ten days\nhis ships ran due south, and, on the tenth, they reached the land of the\nLotus Eaters, who eat food of flowers. They went on shore and drew\nwater, and three men were sent to try to find the people of that\ncountry, who were a quiet, friendly people, and gave the fruit of the\nlotus to the strange sailors. Now whoever tastes of that fruit has no\nmind ever to go home, but to sit between the setting sun and the rising\nmoon, dreaming happy dreams, and forgetting the world. The three men ate\nthe lotus, and sat down to dream, but Ulysses went after them, and drove\nthem to the ships, and bound their hands and feet, and threw them on\nboard, and sailed away. Then he with his ships reached the coast of the\nland of the Cyclopes, which means the round-eyed men, men with only one\neye apiece, set in the middle of their foreheads. They lived not in\nhouses, but in caves among the hills, and they had no king and no laws,\nand did not plough or sow, but wheat and vines grew wild, and they kept\ngreat flocks of sheep.\n\nThere was a beautiful wild desert island lying across the opening of a\nbay; the isle was full of wild goats, and made a bar against the waves,\nso that ships could lie behind it safely, run up on the beach, for there\nwas no tide in that sea. There Ulysses ran up his ships, and the men\npassed the time in hunting wild goats, and feasting on fresh meat and\nthe wine of Maron, the priest of Apollo. Next day Ulysses left all the\nships and men there, except his own ship, and his own crew, and went to\nsee what kind of people lived on the mainland, for as yet none had been\nseen. He found a large cave close to the sea, with laurels growing on\nthe rocky roof, and a wall of rough stones built round a court in front.\nUlysses left all his men but twelve with the ship; filled a goat skin\nwith the strong wine of Maron, put some corn flour in a sack, and went\nup to the cave. Nobody was there, but there were all the things that are\nusually in a dairy, baskets full of cheese, pails and bowls full of milk\nand whey, and kids and lambs were playing in their folds.\n\nAll seemed very quiet and pleasant. The men wanted to take as much\ncheese as they could carry back to the ship, but Ulysses wished to see\nthe owner of the cave. His men, making themselves at home, lit a fire,\nand toasted and ate the cheeses, far within the cave. Then a shadow\nthrown by the setting sun fell across the opening of the cave, and a\nmonstrous man entered, and threw down a dry trunk of a tree that he\ncarried for firewood. Next he drove in the ewes of his flock, leaving\nthe rams in the yard, and he picked up a huge flat stone, and set it so\nas to make a shut door to the cave, for twenty-four yoke of horses could\nnot have dragged away that stone. Lastly the man milked his ewes, and\nput the milk in pails to drink at supper. All this while Ulysses and his\nmen sat quiet and in great fear, for they were shut up in a cave with a\none-eyed giant, whose cheese they had been eating.\n\nThen the giant, when he had lit the fire, happened to see the men, and\nasked them who they were. Ulysses said that they were Greeks, who had\ntaken Troy, and were wandering lost on the seas, and he asked the man to\nbe kind to them in the name of their chief God, Zeus.\n\n'We Cyclopes,' said the giant, 'do not care for Zeus or the Gods, for we\nthink that we are better men than they. Where is your ship?' Ulysses\nanswered that it had been wrecked on the coast, to which the man made no\nanswer, but snatched up two of the twelve, knocked out their brains on\nthe floor, tore the bodies limb from limb, roasted them at his fire, ate\nthem, and, after drinking many pailfuls of milk, lay down and fell\nasleep. Now Ulysses had a mind to drive his sword-point into the giant's\nliver, and he felt for the place with his hand. But he remembered that,\neven if he killed the giant, he could not move the huge stone that was\nthe door of the cave, so he and his men would die of hunger, when they\nhad eaten all the cheeses.\n\nIn the morning the giant ate two more men for breakfast, drove out his\newes, and set the great stone in the doorway again, as lightly as a man\nwould put a quiverlid on a quiver of arrows. Then away he went, driving\nhis flock to graze on the green hills.\n\nUlysses did not give way to despair. The giant had left his stick in the\ncave: it was as large as the mast of a great ship. From this Ulysses cut\na portion six feet long, and his men cut and rubbed as if they were\nmaking a spear shaft: Ulysses then sharpened it to a point, and hardened\nthe point in the fire. It was a thick rounded bar of wood, and the men\ncast lots to choose four, who should twist the bar in the giant's eye\nwhen he fell asleep at night. Back he came at sunset, and drove his\nflocks into the cave, rams and all. Then he put up his stone door,\nmilked his ewes, and killed two men and cooked them.\n\nUlysses meanwhile had filled one of the wooden ivy bowls full of the\nstrong wine of Maron, without putting a drop of water into it. This\nbowl he offered to the giant, who had never heard of wine. He drank one\nbowl after another, and when he was merry he said that he would make\nUlysses a present. 'What is your name?' he asked. 'My name is _Nobody_,'\nsaid Ulysses. 'Then I shall eat the others first and Nobody last,' said\nthe giant. 'That shall be your gift.' Then he fell asleep.\n\nUlysses took his bar of wood, and made the point red-hot in the fire.\nNext his four men rammed it into the giant's one eye, and held it down,\nwhile Ulysses twirled it round, and the eye hissed like red-hot iron\nwhen men dip it into cold water, which is the strength of iron. The\nCyclops roared and leaped to his feet, and shouted for help to the other\ngiants who lived in the neighbouring caves. 'Who is troubling you,\nPolyphemus,' they answered. 'Why do you wake us out of our sleep?' The\ngiant answered, 'Nobody is killing me by his cunning, not at all in fair\nfight.' 'Then if nobody is harming you nobody can help you,' shouted a\ngiant. 'If you are ill pray to your father, Poseidon, who is the god of\nthe sea.' So the giants all went back to bed, and Ulysses laughed low to\nsee how his cunning had deceived them. Then the giant went and took down\nhis door and sat in the doorway, stretching out his arms, so as to catch\nhis prisoners as they went out.\n\nBut Ulysses had a plan. He fastened sets of three rams together with\ntwisted withies, and bound a man to each ram in the middle, so that the\nblind giant's hands would only feel the two outside rams. The biggest\nand strongest ram Ulysses seized, and held on by his hands and feet to\nits fleece, under its belly, and then all the sheep, went out through\nthe doorway, and the giant felt them, but did not know that they were\ncarrying out the men. 'Dear ram!' he said to the biggest, which carried\nUlysses, 'you do not come out first, as usual, but last, as if you were\nslow with sorrow for your master, whose eye Nobody has blinded!'\n\nThen all the rams went out into the open country, and Ulysses unfastened\nhis men, and drove the sheep down to his ship and so on board. His crew\nwept when they heard of the death of six of their friends, but Ulysses\nmade them row out to sea. When he was just so far away from the cave as\nto be within hearing distance he shouted at the Cyclops and mocked him.\nThen that giant broke off the rocky peak of a great hill and threw it in\nthe direction of the sound. The rock fell in front of the ship, and\nraised a wave that drove it back to shore, but Ulysses punted it off\nwith a long pole, and his men rowed out again, far out. Ulysses again\nshouted to the giant, 'If any one asks who blinded you, say that it was\nUlysses, Laertes' son, of Ithaca, the stormer of cities.'\n\nThen the giant prayed to the Sea God, his father, that Ulysses might\nnever come home, or if he did, that he might come late and lonely, with\nloss of all his men, and find sorrow in his house. Then the giant heaved\nand threw another rock, but it fell at the stern of the ship, and the\nwave drove the ship further out to sea, to the shore of the island.\nThere Ulysses and his men landed, and killed some of the giant's sheep,\nand took supper, and drank wine.\n\nBut the Sea God heard the prayer of his son the blind giant.\n\nUlysses and his men sailed on, in what direction and for how long we do\nnot know, till they saw far off an island that shone in the sea. When\nthey came nearer they found that it had a steep cuff of bronze, with a\npalace on the top. Here lived Aeolus, the King of the Winds, with his\nsix sons and six daughters. He received Ulysses kindly on his island,\nand entertained him for a whole month. Then he gave him a leather bag,\nin which he had bound the ways of all the noisy winds. This bag was\nfastened with a silver cord, and Aeolus left no wind out except the West\nWind, which would blow Ulysses straight home to Ithaca. Where he was we\ncannot guess, except that he was to the west of his own island.\n\nSo they sailed for nine days and nights towards the east, and Ulysses\nalways held the helm and steered, but on the tenth day he fell asleep.\nThen his men said to each other, 'What treasure is it that he keeps in\nthe leather bag, a present from King Aeolus? No doubt the bag is full of\ngold and silver, while we have only empty hands.' So they opened the bag\nwhen they were so near Ithaca that they could see people lighting fires\non the shore. Then out rushed all the winds, and carried the ship into\nunknown seas, and when Ulysses woke he was so miserable that he had a\nmind to drown himself. But he was of an enduring heart, and he lay\nstill, and the ship came back to the isle of Aeolus, who cried, 'Away\nwith you! You are the most luckless of living men: you must be hated by\nthe Gods.'\n\nThus Aeolus drove them away, and they sailed for seven days and nights,\ntill they saw land, and came to a harbour with a narrow entrance, and\nwith tall steep rocks on either side. The other eleven ships sailed into\nthe haven, but Ulysses did not venture in; he fastened his ship to a\nrock at the outer end of the harbour. The place must have been very far\nnorth, for, as it was summer, the sun had hardly set till dawn began\nagain, as it does in Norway and Iceland, where there are many such\nnarrow harbours within walls of rock. These places are called _fiords_.\nUlysses sent three men to spy out the country, and at a well outside the\ntown they met a damsel drawing water; she was the child of the king of\nthe people, the Laestrygonians. The damsel led them to her father's\nhouse; he was a giant and seized one of the men of Ulysses, meaning to\nkill and eat him. The two other men fled to the ships, but the\nLaestrygonians ran along the tops of the cliffs and threw down great\nrocks, sinking the vessels and killing the sailors. When Ulysses saw\nthis he drew his sword and cut the cable that fastened his ship to the\nrock outside the harbour, and his crew rowed for dear life and so\nescaped, weeping for the death of their friends. Thus the prayer of the\nblind Cyclops was being fulfilled, for now out of twelve ships Ulysses\nhad but one left.\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nTHE ENCHANTRESS CIRCE, THE LAND OF THE DEAD, THE SIRENS\n\n\nOn they sailed till they came to an island, and there they landed. What\nthe place was they did not know, but it was called Aeaea, and here lived\nCirce, the enchantress, sister of the wizard king Aetes, who was the\nLord of the Fleece of Gold, that Jason won from him by help of the\nking's daughter, Medea. For two days Ulysses and his men lay on land\nbeside their ship, which they anchored in a bay of the island. On the\nthird morning Ulysses took his sword and spear, and climbed to the top\nof a high hill, whence he saw the smoke rising out of the wood where\nCirce had her palace. He thought of going to the house, but it seemed\nbetter to return to his men and send some of them to spy out the place.\nSince the adventure of the Cyclops Ulysses did not care to risk himself\namong unknown people, and for all that he knew there might be man-eating\ngiants on the island. So he went back, and, as he came to the bank of\nthe river, he found a great red deer drinking under the shadow of the\ngreen boughs. He speared the stag, and, tying his feet together, slung\nthe body from his neck, and so, leaning on his spear, he came to his\nfellows. Glad they were to see fresh venison, which they cooked, and so\ndined with plenty of wine.\n\nNext morning Ulysses divided his men into two companies, Eurylochus led\none company and he himself the other. Then they put two marked pieces of\nwood, one for Eurylochus, one for Ulysses, in a helmet, to decide who\nshould go to the house in the wood. They shook the helmet, and the lot\nof Eurylochus leaped out, and, weeping for fear, he led his twenty-two\nmen away into the forest. Ulysses and the other twenty-two waited, and,\nwhen Eurylochus came back alone, he was weeping, and unable to speak for\nsorrow. At last he told his story: they had come to the beautiful house\nof Circe, within the wood, and tame wolves and lions were walking about\nin front of the house. They wagged their tails, and jumped up, like\nfriendly dogs, round the men of Ulysses, who stood in the gateway and\nheard Circe singing in a sweet voice, as she went up and down before the\nloom at which she was weaving. Then one of the men of Ulysses called to\nher, and she came out, a beautiful lady in white robes covered with\njewels of gold. She opened the doors and bade them come in, but\nEurylochus hid himself and watched, and saw Circe and her maidens mix\nhoney and wine for the men, and bid them sit down on chairs at tables,\nbut, when they had drunk of her cup, she touched them with her wand.\nThen they were all changed into swine, and Circe drove them out and shut\nthem up in the styes.\n\nWhen Ulysses heard that he slung his sword-belt round his shoulders,\nseized his bow, and bade Eurylochus come back with him to the house of\nCirce; but Eurylochus was afraid. Alone went Ulysses through the woods,\nand in a dell he met a most beautiful young man, who took his hand and\nsaid, 'Unhappy one! how shalt thou free thy friends from so great an\nenchantress?' Then the young man plucked a plant from the ground; the\nflower was as white as milk, but the root was black: it is a plant that\nmen may not dig up, but to the Gods all things are easy, and the young\nman was the cunning God Hermes, whom Autolycus, the grandfather of\nUlysses, used to worship. 'Take this herb of grace,' he said, 'and when\nCirce has made thee drink of the cup of her enchantments the herb will\nso work that they shall have no power over thee. Then draw thy sword,\nand rush at her, and make her swear that she will not harm thee with her\nmagic.'\n\nThen Hermes departed, and Ulysses went to the house of Circe, and she\nasked him to enter, and seated him on a chair, and gave him the\nenchanted cup to drink, and then smote him with her wand and bade him go\nto the styes of the swine. But Ulysses drew his sword, and Circe, with a\ngreat cry, fell at his feet, saying, 'Who art thou on whom the cup has\nno power? Truly thou art Ulysses of Ithaca, for the God Hermes has told\nme that he should come to my island on his way from Troy. Come now, fear\nnot; let us be friends!'\n\n[Illustration: CIRCE SENDS THE SWINE (THE COMPANIONS OF ULYSSES) TO THE\nSTYES.]\n\nThen the maidens of Circe came to them, fairy damsels of the wells and\nwoods and rivers. They threw covers of purple silk over the chairs,\nand on the silver tables they placed golden baskets, and mixed wine in a\nsilver bowl, and heated water, and bathed Ulysses in a polished bath,\nand clothed him in new raiment, and led him to the table and bade him\neat and drink. But he sat silent, neither eating nor drinking, in sorrow\nfor his company, till Circe called them out from the styes and\ndisenchanted them. Glad they were to see Ulysses, and they embraced him,\nand wept for joy.\n\nSo they went back to their friends at the ship, and told them how Circe\nwould have them all to live with her; but Eurylochus tried to frighten\nthem, saying that she would change them into wolves and lions. Ulysses\ndrew his sword to cut off the head of Eurylochus for his cowardice, but\nthe others prayed that he might be left alone to guard the ship. So\nUlysses left him; but Eurylochus had not the courage to be alone, and\nslunk behind them to the house of Circe. There she welcomed them all,\nand gave them a feast, and there they dwelt for a whole year, and then\nthey wearied for their wives and children, and longed to return to\nIthaca. They did not guess by what a strange path they must sail.\n\nWhen Ulysses was alone with Circe at night he told her that his men were\nhome-sick, and would fain go to Ithaca. Then Circe said, 'There is no\nway but this: you must sail to the last shore of the stream of the river\nOceanus, that girdles round the world. There is the Land of the Dead,\nand the House of Hades and Persephone, the King and Queen of the ghosts.\nThere you must call up the ghost of the blind prophet, Tiresias of\nThebes, for he alone has knowledge of your way, and the other spirits\nsweep round shadow-like.'\n\nThen Ulysses thought that his heart would break, for how should he, a\nliving man, go down to the awful dwellings of the dead? But Circe told\nhim the strange things that he must do, and she gave him a black ram and\na black ewe, and next day Ulysses called his men together. All followed\nhim to the ship, except one, Elpenor. He had been sleeping, for the sake\nof the cool air, on the flat roof of the house, and, when suddenly\nwakened, he missed his foothold on the tall ladder, and fell to the\nground and broke his neck. They left him unburned and unburied, and,\nweeping, they followed Ulysses, as follow they must, to see the homes of\nthe ghosts and the house of Hades. Very sorrowfully they all went on\nboard, taking with them the black ram and the black ewe, and they set\nthe sails, and the wind bore them at its will.\n\nNow in mid-day they sailed out of the sunlight into darkness, for they\nhad come to the land of the Cimmerian men, which the sun never sees, but\nall is dark cloud and mist. There they ran the ship ashore, and took out\nthe two black sheep, and walked along the dark banks of the river\nOceanus to a place of which Circe had told Ulysses. There the two rivers\nof the dead meet, where a rock divides the two dark roaring streams.\nThere they dug a trench and poured out mead, and wine, and water, and\nprayed to the ghosts, and then they cut the throat of the black ewe, and\nthe grey ghosts gathered to smell the blood. Pale spectres came, spirits\nof brides who died long ago, and youths unwed, and old unhappy men; and\nmany phantoms were there of men who fell in battle, with shadowy spears\nin their hands, and battered armour. Then Ulysses sacrificed the black\nram to the ghost of the prophet Tiresias, and sat down with his sword in\nhis hand, that no spirit before Tiresias might taste the blood in the\ntrench.\n\nFirst the spirit of Elpenor came, and begged Ulysses to burn his body,\nfor till his body was burned he was not allowed to mingle with the other\nsouls of dead men. So Ulysses promised to burn and bury him when he went\nback to Circe's island. Then came the shadow of the mother of Ulysses,\nwho had died when he was at Troy, but, for all his grief, he would not\nallow the shadow to come near the blood till Tiresias had tasted it. At\nlength came the spirit of the blind prophet, and he prayed Ulysses to\nsheathe his sword and let him drink the blood of the black sheep.\n\nWhen he had tasted it he said that the Sea God was angry because of the\nblinding of his son, the Cyclops, and would make his voyaging vain. But\nif the men of Ulysses were wise, and did not slay and eat the sacred\ncattle of the Sun God, in the isle called Thrinacia, they might all win\nhome. If they were unwise, and if Ulysses did come home, lonely and late\nhe would arrive, on the ship of strangers, and he would find proud men\nwasting his goods and seeking to wed his wife, Penelope. Even if Ulysses\nalone could kill these men his troubles would not be ended. He must\nwander over the land, as he had wandered over the waters, carrying an\noar on his shoulder, till he came to men who had never heard of the sea\nor of boats. When one of these men, not knowing what an oar was, came\nand told him that he carried a fan for winnowing corn, then Ulysses must\nfix the oar in the ground, and offer a sacrifice to the Sea God, and go\nhome, where he would at last live in peace. Ulysses said, 'So be it!'\nand asked how he could have speech with the ghosts. Tiresias told him\nhow this might be done, and then his mother told him how she died of\nsorrow for him, and Ulysses tried to embrace and kiss her, but his arms\nonly clasped the empty air.\n\nThen came up the beautiful spirits of many dead, unhappy ladies of old\ntimes, and then came the souls of Agamemnon, and of Achilles, and of\nAias. Achilles was glad when he heard how bravely his young son had\nfought at Troy, but he said it was better to be the servant of a poor\nfarmer on earth than to rule over all the ghosts of the dead in the\nstill grey land where the sun never shone, and no flowers grew but the\nmournful asphodel. Many other spirits of Greeks slain at Troy came and\nasked for news about their friends, but Aias stood apart and silent,\nstill in anger because the arms of Achilles had been given to Ulysses.\nIn vain Ulysses told him that the Greeks had mourned as much for him as\nfor Achilles; he passed silently away into the House of Hades. At last\nthe legions of the innumerable dead, all that have died since the world\nbegan, flocked, and filled the air with their low wailing cries, and\nfear fell on Ulysses, and he went back along that sad last shore of the\nworld's end to his ship, and sailed again out of the darkness into the\nsunlight, and to the isle of Circe. There they burned the body of\nElpenor, and piled a mound over it, and on the mound set the oar of the\ndead man, and so went to the palace of Circe.\n\nUlysses told Circe all his adventures, and then she warned him of\ndangers yet to come, and showed him how he might escape them. He\nlistened, and remembered all that she spoke, and these two said good-bye\nfor ever. Circe wandered away alone into the woods, and Ulysses and his\nmen set sail and crossed the unknown seas. Presently the wind fell, and\nthe sea was calm, and they saw a beautiful island from which came the\nsound of sweet singing. Ulysses knew who the singers were, for Circe\nhad told him that they were the Sirens, a kind of beautiful Mermaids,\ndeadly to men. Among the flowers they sit and sing, but the flowers hide\nthe bones of men who have listened and landed on the island, and died of\nthat strange music, which carries the soul away.\n\nUlysses now took a great cake of bees' wax and cut it up into small\npieces, which he bade his men soften and place in their ears, that they\nmight not hear that singing. But, as he desired to hear it and yet live,\nhe bade the sailors bind him tightly to the mast with ropes, and they\nmust not unbind him, however much he might implore them to set him free.\nWhen all this was done the men sat down on the benches, all orderly, and\nsmote the grey sea with their oars, and the ship rushed along through\nthe clear still water, and came opposite the island.\n\nThen the sweet singing of the Sirens was borne over the sea,\n\n  'Hither, come hither, renowned Ulysses,\n  Great glory of the Achaean name.\n  Here stay thy ship, that thou mayest listen to our song.\n  Never has any man driven his ship past our island\n  Till he has heard our voices, sweet as the honeycomb;\n  Gladly he has heard, and wiser has he gone on his way.\n  Hither, come hither, for we know all things,\n  All that the Greeks wrought and endured in Troyland,\n  All that shall hereafter be upon the fruitful earth.'\n\nThus they sang, offering Ulysses all knowledge and wisdom, which they\nknew that he loved more than anything in the world. To other men, no\ndoubt, they would have offered other pleasures. Ulysses desired to\nlisten, and he nodded to his men to loosen his bonds. But Perimedes\nand Eurylochus arose, and laid on him yet stronger bonds, and the ship\nwas driven past that island, till the song of the Sirens faded away, and\nthen the men set Ulysses free and took the wax out of their ears.\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nTHE WHIRLPOOL, THE SEA MONSTER, AND THE CATTLE OF THE SUN\n\n\nThey had not sailed far when they heard the sea roaring, and saw a great\nwave, over which hung a thick shining cloud of spray. They had drifted\nto a place where the sea narrowed between two high black rocks: under\nthe rock on the left was a boiling whirlpool in which no ship could\nlive; the opposite rock showed nothing dangerous, but Ulysses had been\nwarned by Circe that here too lay great peril. We may ask, Why did\nUlysses pass through the narrows between these two rocks? why did he not\nsteer on the outer side of one or the other? The reason seems to have\nbeen that, on the outer side of these cliffs, were the tall reefs which\nmen called the Rocks Wandering. Between them the sea water leaped in\nhigh columns of white foam, and the rocks themselves rushed together,\ngrinding and clashing, while fire flew out of the crevices and crests as\nfrom a volcano.\n\nCirce had told Ulysses about the Rocks Wandering, which do not even\nallow flocks of doves to pass through them; even one of the doves is\nalways caught and crushed, and no ship of men escapes that tries to pass\nthat way, and the bodies of the sailors and the planks of the ships are\nconfusedly tossed by the waves of the sea and the storms of ruinous\nfire. Of all ships that ever sailed the sea only 'Argo,' the ship of\nJason, has escaped the Rocks Wandering, as you may read in the story of\nthe Fleece of Gold. For these reasons Ulysses was forced to steer\nbetween the rock of the whirlpool and the rock which seemed harmless. In\nthe narrows between these two cliffs the sea ran like a rushing river,\nand the men, in fear, ceased to hold the oars, and down the stream the\noars plashed in confusion. But Ulysses, whom Circe had told of this new\ndanger, bade them grasp the oars again and row hard. He told the man at\nthe helm to steer under the great rocky cliff, on the right, and to keep\nclear of the whirlpool and the cloud of spray on the left. Well he knew\nthe danger of the rock on the left, for within it was a deep cave, where\na monster named Scylla lived, yelping with a shrill voice out of her six\nhideous heads. Each head hung down from a long, thin, scaly neck, and in\neach mouth were three rows of greedy teeth, and twelve long feelers,\nwith claws at the ends of them, dropped down, ready to catch at men.\nThere in her cave Scylla sits, fishing with her feelers for dolphins and\nother great fish, and for men, if any men sail by that way. Against this\ndeadly thing none may fight, for she cannot be slain with the spear.[A]\n\n[A. There is a picture of this monster attacking a man in a boat. The\npicture was painted centuries before the time of Ulysses.]\n\nAll this Ulysses knew, for Circe had warned him. But he also knew that\non the other side of the strait, where the sea spray for ever flew high\nabove the rock, was a whirlpool, called Charybdis, which would swallow\nup his ship if it came within the current, while Scylla could only catch\nsome of his men. For this reason he bade the helmsman to steer close to\nthe rock of Scylla, and he did not tell the sailors that she lurked\nthere with her body hidden in her deep cave. He himself put on his\narmour, and took two spears, and went and stood in the raised half deck\nat the front of the ship, thinking that, at least, he would have a\nstroke at Scylla. Then they rowed down the swift sea stream, while the\nwave of the whirlpool now rose up, till the spray hid the top of the\nrock, and now fell, and bubbled with black sand. They were watching the\nwhirlpool, when out from the hole in the cliff sprang the six heads of\nScylla, and up into the air went six of Ulysses' men, each calling to\nhim, as they were swept within her hole in the rock, where she devoured\nthem. 'This was the most pitiful thing,' Ulysses said, 'that my eyes\nhave seen, of all my sorrows in searching out the paths of the sea.'\n\nThe ship swept through the roaring narrows between the rock of Scylla\nand the whirlpool of Charybdis, into the open sea, and the men, weary\nand heavy of heart, bent over their oars, and longed for rest.\n\nNow a place of rest seemed near at hand, for in front of the ship lay a\nbeautiful island, and the men could hear the bleating of sheep and the\nlowing of cows as they were being herded into their stalls. But Ulysses\nremembered that, in the Land of the Dead, the ghost of the blind prophet\nhad warned him of one thing. If his men killed and ate the cattle of the\nSun, in the sacred island of Thrinacia, they would all perish. So\nUlysses told his crew of this prophecy, and bade them row past the\nisland. Eurylochus was angry and said that the men were tired, and could\nrow no further, but must land, and take supper, and sleep comfortably on\nshore. On hearing Eurylochus, the whole crew shouted and said that they\nwould go no further that night, and Ulysses had no power to compel them.\nHe could only make them swear not to touch the cattle of the Sun God,\nwhich they promised readily enough, and so went ashore, took supper, and\nslept.\n\n[Illustration: THE ADVENTURE WITH SCYLLA.]\n\nIn the night a great storm arose: the clouds and driving mist blinded\nthe face of the sea and sky, and for a whole month the wild south wind\nhurled the waves on the coast, and no ship of these times could venture\nout in the tempest. Meanwhile the crew ate up all the stores in the\nship, and finished the wine, so that they were driven to catch sea birds\nand fishes, of which they took but few, the sea being so rough upon the\nrocks. Ulysses went up into the island alone, to pray to the Gods, and\nwhen he had prayed he found a sheltered place, and there he fell asleep.\n\nEurylochus took the occasion, while Ulysses was away, to bid the crew\nseize and slay the sacred cattle of the Sun God, which no man might\ntouch, and this they did, so that, when Ulysses wakened, and came near\nthe ship, he smelled the roast meat, and knew what had been done. He\nrebuked the men, but, as the cattle were dead, they kept eating them for\nsix days; and then the storm ceased, the wind fell, the sun shone, and\nthey set the sails, and away they went. But this evil deed was punished,\nfor when they were out of sight of land, a great thunder cloud\novershadowed them, the wind broke the mast, which crushed the head of\nthe helmsman, the lightning struck the ship in the centre; she reeled,\nthe men fell overboard, and the heads of the crew floated a moment, like\ncormorants, above the waves.\n\nBut Ulysses had kept hold of a rope, and, when the vessel righted, he\nwalked the deck till a wave stripped off all the tackling, and loosened\nthe sides from the keel. Ulysses had only time to lash the broken mast\nwith a rope to the keel, and sit on this raft with his feet in the\nwater, while the South Wind rose again furiously, and drove the raft\nback till it came under the rock where was the whirlpool of Charybdis.\nHere Ulysses would have been drowned, but he caught at the root of a fig\ntree that grew on the rock, and there he hung, clinging with his toes to\nthe crumbling stones till the whirlpool boiled up again, and up came the\ntimbers. Down on the timbers Ulysses dropped, and so sat rowing with his\nhands, and the wind drifted him at last to a shelving beach of an\nisland.\n\nHere dwelt a kind of fairy, called Calypso, who found Ulysses nearly\ndead on the beach, and was kind to him, and kept him in her cave, where\nhe lived for seven long years, always desiring to leave the beautiful\nfairy and return to Ithaca and his wife Penelope. But no ship of men\never came near that isle, which is the central place of all the seas,\nand he had no ship, and no men to sail and row. Calypso was very kind,\nand very beautiful, being the daughter of the wizard Atlas, who holds\nthe two pillars that keep earth and sea asunder. But Ulysses was longing\nto see if it were but the smoke going up from the houses of rocky\nIthaca, and he had a desire to die.\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nHOW TELEMACHUS WENT TO SEEK HIS FATHER\n\n\nWhen Ulysses had lived nearly seven years in the island of Calypso, his\nson Telemachus, whom he had left in Ithaca as a little child, went forth\nto seek for his father. In Ithaca he and his mother, Penelope, had long\nbeen very unhappy. As Ulysses did not come home after the war, and as\nnothing was heard about him from the day when the Greeks sailed from\nTroy, it was supposed that he must be dead. But Telemachus was still but\na boy of twelve years old, and the father of Ulysses, Laertes, was very\nold, and had gone to a farm in the country, where he did nothing but\ntake care of his garden. There was thus no King in Ithaca, and the boys,\nwho had been about ten years old when Ulysses went to Troy, were now\ngrown up, and, as their fathers had gone to the war, they did just as\nthey pleased. Twelve of them wanted to marry Penelope, and they, with\nabout a hundred others as wild as themselves, from the neighbouring\nislands, by way of paying court to Penelope ate and drank all day at her\nhouse. They killed the cattle, sheep, and swine; they drank the wine,\nand amused themselves with Penelope's maidens, of whom she had many.\nNobody could stop them; they would never go away, they said, till\nPenelope chose one of them to be her husband, and King of the island,\nthough Telemachus was the rightful prince.\n\nPenelope at last promised that she would choose one of them when she had\nfinished a great shroud of linen, to be the death shroud of old Laertes\nwhen he died. All day she wove it, but at night, when her wooers had\ngone (for they did not sleep in her house), she unwove it again. But one\nof her maidens told this to the wooers, so she had to finish the shroud,\nand now they pressed her more than ever to make her choice. But she kept\nhoping that Ulysses was still alive, and would return, though, if he\ndid, how was he to turn so many strong young men out of his house?\n\nThe Goddess of Wisdom, Athene, had always favoured Ulysses, and now she\nspoke up among the Gods, where they sat, as men say, in their holy\nheaven. Not by winds is it shaken, nor wet with rain, nor does the snow\ncome thither, but clear air is spread about it cloudless, and the white\nlight floats over it. Athene told how good, wise, and brave Ulysses was,\nand how he was kept in the isle of Calypso, while men ruined his wealth\nand wooed his wife. She said that she would herself go to Ithaca, and\nmake Telemachus appeal to all the people of the country, showing how\nevilly he was treated, and then sail abroad to seek news of his father.\nSo Athene spoke, and flashed down from Olympus to Ithaca, where she took\nthe shape of a mortal man, Mentes, a chief of the Taphians. In front of\nthe doors she found the proud wooers playing at draughts and other games\nwhile supper was being made ready. When Telemachus, who was standing\napart, saw the stranger, he went to him, and led him into the house, and\ntreated him kindly, while the wooers ate and drank, and laughed noisily.\n\nThen Telemachus told Athene (or, as he supposed, the stranger), how\nevilly he was used, while his father's white bones might be wasting on\nan unknown shore or rolling in the billows of the salt sea. Athene said,\nor Mentes said, that he himself was an old friend of Ulysses, and had\ntouched at Ithaca on his way to Cyprus to buy copper. 'But Ulysses,' he\nsaid, 'is not dead; he will certainly come home, and that speedily. You\nare so like him, you must be his son.' Telemachus replied that he was,\nand Mentes was full of anger, seeing how the wooers insulted him, and\ntold him first to complain to an assembly of all the people, and then to\ntake a ship, and go seeking news of Ulysses.\n\nThen Athene departed, and next day Telemachus called an assembly, and\nspoke to the people, but though they were sorry for him they could not\nhelp him. One old man, however, a prophet, said that Ulysses would\ncertainly come home, but the wooers only threatened and insulted him. In\nthe evening Athene came again, in the appearance of Mentor, not the\nsame man as Mentes, but an Ithacan, and a friend of Ulysses. She\nencouraged Telemachus to take a ship, with twenty oarsmen, and he told\nthe wooers that he was going to see Menelaus and Nestor, and ask tidings\nof his father. They only mocked him, but he made all things ready for\nhis voyage without telling his mother. It was old Eurycleia, who had\nbeen his nurse and his father's nurse, that brought him wine and food\nfor his journey; and at night, when the sea wind wakens in summer, he\nand Mentor went on board, and all night they sailed, and at noon next\nday they reached Pylos on the sea sands, the city of Nestor the Old.\n\nNestor received them gladly, and so did his sons, Pisistratus and\nThrasymedes, who fought at Troy, and next day, when Mentor had gone,\nPisistratus and Telemachus drove together, up hill and down dale, a two\ndays' journey, to Lacedaemon, lying beneath Mount Taygetus on the bank\nof the clear river Eurotas.\n\nNot one of the Greeks had seen Ulysses since the day when they all\nsailed from Troy, yet Menelaus, in a strange way, was able to tell\nTelemachus that his father still lived, and was with Calypso on a lonely\nisland, the centre of all the seas. We shall see how Menelaus knew this.\nWhen Telemachus and Pisistratus came, he was giving a feast, and called\nthem to his table. It would not have been courteous to ask them who they\nwere till they had been bathed and clothed in fresh raiment, and had\neaten and drunk. After dinner, Menelaus saw how much Telemachus admired\nhis house, and the flashing of light from the walls, which were covered\nwith bronze panels, and from the cups of gold, and the amber and ivory\nand silver. Such things Telemachus had never seen in Ithaca. Noticing\nhis surprise, Menelaus said that he had brought many rich things from\nTroy, after eight years wandering to Cyprus, and Phoenicia, and Egypt,\nand even to Libya, on the north coast of Africa. Yet he said that,\nthough he was rich and fortunate, he was unhappy when he remembered the\nbrave men who had died for his sake at Troy. But above all he was\nmiserable for the loss of the best of them all, Ulysses, who was so long\nunheard of, and none knew whether, at that hour, he was alive or dead.\nAt these words Telemachus hid his face in his purple mantle and shed\ntears, so that Menelaus guessed who he was, but he said nothing.\n\nThen came into the hall, from her own fragrant chamber, Helen of the\nfair hands, as beautiful as ever she had been, her bower maidens\ncarrying her golden distaff, with which she span, and a silver basket to\nhold her wool, for the white hands of Helen were never idle.\n\nHelen knew Telemachus by his likeness to his father, Ulysses, and when\nshe said this to Menelaus, Pisistratus overheard her, and told how\nTelemachus had come to them seeking for news of his father. Menelaus was\nmuch moved in his heart, and Helen no less, when they saw the son of\nUlysses, who had been the most trusty of all their friends. They could\nnot help shedding tears, for Pisistratus remembered his dear brother\nAntilochus, whom Memnon slew in battle at Troy, Memnon the son of the\nbright Dawn. But Helen wished to comfort them, and she brought a drug of\nmagical virtue, which Polydamna, the wife of Thon, King of Egypt had\ngiven to her. This drug lulls all pain and anger, and brings\nforgetfulness of every sorrow, and Helen poured it from a golden vial\ninto the mixing bowl of gold, and they drank the wine and were\ncomforted.\n\nThen Helen told Telemachus what great deeds Ulysses did at Troy, and\nhow he crept into the town disguised as a beggar, and came to her house,\nwhen he stole the Luck of Troy. Menelaus told how Ulysses kept him and\nthe other princes quiet in the horse of tree, when Deiphobus made Helen\ncall to them all in the very voices of their own wives, and to\nTelemachus it was great joy to hear of his father's courage and wisdom.\n\nNext day Telemachus showed to Menelaus how hardly he and his mother were\ntreated by the proud wooers, and Menelaus prayed that Ulysses might come\nback to Ithaca, and slay the wooers every one. 'But as to what you ask\nme,' he said, 'I will tell you all that I have heard about your father.\nIn my wanderings after I sailed from Troy the storm winds kept me for\nthree weeks in the island called Pharos, a day's voyage from the mouth\nof the river \"Aegyptus\"' (which is the old name of the Nile). 'We were\nalmost starving, for our food was done, and my crew went round the\nshores, fishing with hook and line. Now in that isle lives a goddess,\nthe daughter of Proteus, the Old Man of the Sea. She advised me that if\nI could but catch her father when he came out of the sea to sleep on the\nshore he would tell me everything that I needed to know. At noonday he\nwas used to come out, with all his flock of seals round him, and to\nsleep among them on the sands. If I could seize him, she said, he would\nturn into all manner of shapes in my hands: beasts, and serpents, and\nburning fire; but at last he would appear in his own shape, and answer\nall my questions.\n\n'So the goddess spoke, and she dug hiding places in the sands for me and\nthree of my men, and covered us with the skins of seals. At noonday the\nOld Man came out with his seals, and counted them, beginning with us,\nand then he lay down and fell asleep. Then we leaped up and rushed at\nhim and gripped him fast. He turned into the shapes of a lion, and of a\nleopard, of a snake, and a huge boar; then he was running water, and\nnext he was a tall, blossoming tree. But we held him firmly, and at last\nhe took his own shape, and told me that I should never have a fair wind\ntill I had sailed back into the river Aegyptus and sacrificed there to\nthe gods in heaven. Then I asked him for news about my brother,\nAgamemnon, and he told me how my brother was slain in his own hall, and\nhow Aias was drowned in the sea. Lastly, he told me about Ulysses: how\nhe was kept on a lonely island by the fairy Calypso, and was unhappy,\nand had no ship and no crew to escape and win home.'\n\nThis was all that Menelaus could tell Telemachus, who stayed with\nMenelaus for a month. All that time the wooers lay in wait for him, with\na ship, in a narrow strait which they thought he must sail through on\nhis way back to Ithaca. In that strait they meant to catch him and kill\nhim.\n\n\n\n\nV\n\nHOW ULYSSES ESCAPED FROM THE ISLAND OF CALYPSO\n\n\nNow the day after Menelaus told Telemachus that Ulysses was still a\nliving man, the Gods sent Hermes to Calypso. So Hermes bound on his feet\nhis fair golden sandals, that wax not old, and bear him, alike over wet\nsea and dry land, as swift as the wind. Along the crests of the waves he\nflew, like the cormorant that chases fishes through the sea deeps, with\nhis plumage wet in the sea brine. He reached the island, and went up to\nthe cave of Calypso, wherein dwelt the nymph of the braided tresses,\nand he found her within. And on the hearth there was a great fire\nburning, and from afar, through the isle, was smelt the fragrance of\ncleft cedar blazing, and of sandal wood. And the nymph within was\nsinging with a sweet voice as she fared to and fro before the loom, and\nwove with a shuttle of gold. All round about the cave there was a wood\nblossoming, alder and poplar and sweet smelling cypress. Therein roosted\nbirds long of wing--owls and falcons and chattering sea-crows, which\nhave their business in the waters. And lo! there, about the hollow cave,\ntrailed a gadding garden vine, all rich with clusters. And fountains,\nfour set orderly, were running with clear water hard by one another,\nturned each to his own course. Around soft meadows bloomed of violets\nand parsley; yea, even a deathless God who came thither might wonder at\nthe sight and be glad at heart.\n\nThere the messenger, the slayer of Argos, stood and wondered. Now when\nhe had gazed at all with wonder, he went into the wide cave; nor did\nCalypso, that fair Goddess, fail to know him when she saw him face to\nface; for the Gods use not to be strange one to another, not though one\nhave his habitation far away. But he found not Ulysses, the\ngreat-hearted, within the cave, who sat weeping on the shore even as\naforetime, straining his soul with tears and groans and griefs, and as\nhe wept he looked wistfully over the unharvested deep. And Calypso, that\nfair Goddess, questioned Hermes, when she had made him sit on a bright\nshining star:\n\n'Wherefore, I pray thee, Hermes of the golden wand, hast thou come\nhither, worshipful and welcome, whereas as of old thou wert not wont to\nvisit me? Tell me all thy thought; my heart is set on fulfilling it, if\nfulfil it I may, and if it hath been fulfilled in the counsel of fate.\nBut now follow me further, that I may set before thee the entertainment\nof strangers.'\n\nTherewith the goddess spread a table with ambrosia and set it by him,\nand mixed the ruddy nectar. So the messenger, the slayer of Argos, did\neat and drink. Now after he had supped and comforted his soul with food,\nat the last he answered, and spake to her on this wise:\n\n'Thou makest question of me on my coming, a Goddess of a God, and I will\ntell thee this my saying truly, at thy command. 'Twas Zeus that bade me\ncome hither, by no will of mine; nay, who of his free will would speed\nover such a wondrous space of sea whereby is no city of mortals that do\nsacrifice to the gods. He saith that thou hast with thee a man most\nwretched beyond his fellows, beyond those men that round the city of\nPriam for nine years fought, and in the tenth year sacked the city and\ndeparted homeward. Yet on the way they sinned against Athene, and she\nraised upon them an evil blast and long waves of the sea. Then all the\nrest of his good company was lost, but it came to pass that the wind\nbare and the wave brought him hither. And now Zeus biddeth thee send him\nhence with what speed thou mayest, for it is not ordained that he die\naway from his friends, but rather it is his fate to look on them even\nyet, and to come to his high-roofed home and his own country.'\n\n[Illustration: CALYPSO TAKES PITY ON ULYSSES.]\n\nSo spake he, and Calypso, that fair Goddess, shuddered and spake unto\nhim: 'Hard are ye Gods and jealous exceeding, who ever grudge Goddesses\nopenly to mate with men. Him I saved as he went all alone bestriding the\nkeel of a bark, for that Zeus had crushed and cleft his swift ship\nwith a white bolt in the midst of the wine-dark deep. There all the rest\nof his good company was lost, but it came to pass that the wind bare and\nthe wave brought him hither. And him have I loved and cherished, and I\nsaid that I would make him to know not death and age for ever. But I\nwill give him no despatch, not I, for I have no ships by me with oars,\nnor company to bear him on his way over the broad back of the sea. Yet\nwill I be forward to put this in his mind, and will hide nought, that\nall unharmed he may come to his own country.'\n\nThen the messenger, the slayer of Argos, answered her: 'Yea, speed him\nnow upon his path and have regard unto the wrath of Zeus, lest haply he\nbe angered and bear hard on thee hereafter.'\n\nTherewith the great slayer of Argos departed, but the lady nymph went on\nher way to the great-hearted Ulysses, when she had heard the message of\nZeus. And there she found him sitting on the shore, and his eyes were\nnever dry of tears, and his sweet life was ebbing away as he mourned for\nhis return. In the daytime he would sit on the rocks and on the beach,\nstraining his soul with tears, and groans, and griefs, and through his\ntears he would look wistfully over the unharvested deep. So, standing\nnear him, that fair goddess spake to him:\n\n'Hapless man, sorrow no more I pray thee in this isle, nor let thy good\nlife waste away, for even now will I send thee hence with all my heart.\nNay, arise and cut long beams, and fashion a wide raft with the axe, and\nlay deckings high thereupon, that it may bear thee over the misty deep.\nAnd I will place therein bread and water, and red wine to thy heart's\ndesire, to keep hunger far away. And I will put raiment upon thee, and\nsend a fair gale, that so thou mayest come all unharmed to thine own\ncountry, if indeed it be the good pleasure of the gods who hold wide\nheaven, who are stronger than I am both to will and to do.'\n\nThen Ulysses was glad and sad: glad that the Gods took thought for him,\nand sad to think of crossing alone the wide unsailed seas. Calypso said\nto him:\n\n'So it is indeed thy wish to get thee home to thine own dear country\neven in this hour? Good fortune go with thee even so! Yet didst thou\nknow in thine heart what thou art ordained to suffer, or ever thou reach\nthine own country, here, even here, thou wouldst abide with me and keep\nthis house, and wouldst never taste of death, though thou longest to see\nthy wife, for whom thou hast ever a desire day by day. Not, in sooth,\nthat I avow me to be less noble than she in form or fashion, for it is\nin no wise meet that mortal women should match them with immortals in\nshape and comeliness.'\n\nAnd Ulysses of many counsels answered, and spake unto her: 'Be not wroth\nwith me, goddess and queen. Myself I know it well, how wise Penelope is\nmeaner to look upon than thou in comeliness and stature. But she is\nmortal, and thou knowest not age nor death. Yet, even so, I wish and\nlong day by day to fare homeward and see the day of my returning. Yea,\nand if some god shall wreck me in the wine-dark deep, even so I will\nendure, with a heart within me patient of affliction. For already have I\nsuffered full much, and much have I toiled in perils of waves and war;\nlet this be added to the tale of those.'\n\nNext day Calypso brought to Ulysses carpenters' tools, and he felled\ntrees, and made a great raft, and a mast, and sails out of canvas. In\nfive days he had finished his raft and launched it, and Calypso placed\nin it skins full of wine and water, and flour and many pleasant things\nto eat, and so they kissed for that last time and took farewell, he\ngoing alone on the wide sea, and she turning lonely to her own home. He\nmight have lived for ever with the beautiful fairy, but he chose to live\nand die, if he could, with his wife Penelope.\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\nHOW ULYSSES WAS WRECKED, YET REACHED PHAEACIA\n\n\nAs long as the fair wind blew Ulysses sat and steered his raft, never\nseeing land or any ship of men. He kept his eye at night on the Great\nBear, holding it always on his left hand, as Calypso taught him.\nSeventeen days he sailed, and on the eighteenth day he saw the shadowy\nmountain peaks of an island called Phaeacia. But now the Sea god saw\nhim, and remembered how Ulysses had blinded his son the Cyclops. In\nanger he raised a terrible storm: great clouds covered the sky, and all\nthe winds met. Ulysses wished that he had died when the Trojans gathered\nround him as he defended the dead body of Achilles. For, had he died\nthen, he would have been burned and buried by his friends, but if he\nwere now drowned his ghost would always wander alone on the fringes of\nthe Land of the Dead, like the ghost of Elpenor.\n\nAs he thought thus, the winds broke the mast of his raft, and the sail\nand yardarm fell into the sea, and the waves dragged him deep down. At\nlast he rose to the surface and swam after his raft, and climbed on to\nit, and sat there, while the winds tossed the raft about like a feather.\nThe Sea goddess, Ino, saw him and pitied him, and rose from the water\nas a seagull rises after it has dived. She spoke to him, and threw her\nbright veil to him, saying, 'Wind this round your breast, and throw off\nyour clothes. Leap from the raft and swim, and, when you reach land,\ncast the veil back into the sea, and turn away your head.'\n\nUlysses caught the veil, and wound it about his breast, but he\ndetermined not to leave the raft while the timbers held together. Even\nas he thought thus, the timbers were driven asunder by the waves, and he\nseized a plank, and sat astride it as a man rides a horse. Then the\nwinds fell, all but the north wind, which drifted Ulysses on for two\ndays and nights. On the third day all was calm, and the land was very\nnear, and Ulysses began to swim towards it, through a terrible surf,\nwhich crashed and foamed on sheer rocks, where all his bones would be\nbroken. Thrice he clasped a rock, and thrice the back wash of the wave\ndragged him out to sea. Then he swam outside of the breakers, along the\nline of land, looking for a safe place, and at last he came to the mouth\nof the river. Here all was smooth, with a shelving beach, and his feet\ntouched bottom. He staggered out of the water and swooned away as soon\nas he was on dry land. When he came to himself he unbound the veil of\nIno, and cast it into the sea, and fell back, quite spent, among the\nreeds of the river, naked and starving. He crept between two thick olive\ntrees that grew close together and made a shelter against the wind, and\nhe covered himself all over thickly with fallen dry leaves, till he grew\nwarm again and fell into a deep sleep.\n\nWhile Ulysses slept, alone and naked in an unknown land, a dream came to\nbeautiful Nausicaa, the daughter of the King of that country, which is\ncalled Phaeacia. The dream was in the shape of a girl who was a friend\nof Nausicaa, and it said: 'Nausicaa, how has your mother such a careless\ndaughter? There are many beautiful garments in the house that need to be\nwashed, against your wedding day, when, as is the custom, you must give\nmantles and tunics to the guests. Let us go a washing to the river\nto-morrow, taking a car to carry the raiment.'\n\nWhen Nausicaa wakened next day she remembered the dream, and went to her\nfather, and asked him to lend her a car to carry the clothes. She said\nnothing about her marriage day, for though many young princes were in\nlove with her, she was in love with none of them. Still, the clothes\nmust be washed, and her father lent her a waggon with a high frame, and\nmules to drive. The clothes were piled in the car, and food was packed\nin a basket, every sort of dainty thing, and Nausicaa took the reins and\ndrove slowly while many girls followed her, her friends of her own age.\nThey came to a deep clear pool, that overflowed into shallow paved runs\nof water, and there they washed the clothes, and trod them down in the\nrunlets. Next they laid them out to dry in the sun and wind on the\npebbles, and then they took their meal of cakes and other good things.\n\nWhen they had eaten they threw down their veils and began to play at\nball, at a game like rounders. Nausicaa threw the ball at a girl who was\nrunning, but missed her, and the ball fell into the deep swift river.\nAll the girls screamed and laughed, and the noise they made wakened\nUlysses where he lay in the little wood. 'Where am I?' he said to\nhimself; 'is this a country of fierce and savage men? A sound of girls\nat play rings round me. Can they be fairies of the hill tops and the\nrivers, and the water meadows?' As he had no clothes, and the voices\nseemed to be voices of women, Ulysses broke a great leafy bough which\nhid all his body, but his feet were bare, his face was wild with\nweariness, and cold, and hunger, and his hair and beard were matted and\nrough with the salt water.\n\nThe girls, when they saw such a face peering over the leaves of the\nbough, screamed, and ran this way and that along the beach. But\nNausicaa, as became the daughter of the King, stood erect and unafraid,\nand as Ulysses dared not go near and kneel to her, he spoke from a\ndistance and said:\n\n'I pray thee, O queen, whether thou art a goddess or a mortal! If indeed\nthou art a goddess of them that keep the wide heaven, to Artemis, then,\nthe daughter of great Zeus, I mainly liken thee for beauty and stature\nand shapeliness. But if thou art one of the daughters of men who dwell\non earth, thrice blessed are thy father and thy lady mother, and thrice\nblessed thy brethren. Surely their souls ever glow with gladness for thy\nsake each time they see thee entering the dance, so fair a flower of\nmaidens. But he is of heart the most blessed beyond all other who shall\nprevail with gifts of wooing, and lead thee to his home. Never have mine\neyes beheld such an one among mortals, neither man nor woman; great awe\ncomes upon me as I look on thee. Yet in Delos once I saw as goodly a\nthing: a young sapling of a palm tree springing by the altar of Apollo.\nFor thither, too, I went, and much people with me, on that path where my\nsore troubles were to be. Yea! and when I looked thereupon, long time I\nmarvelled in spirit--for never grew there yet so goodly a shoot from\nground--even in such wise as I wonder at thee, lady, and am astonished\nand do greatly fear to touch thy knees, though grievous sorrow is upon\nme.\n\n[Illustration: HOW ULYSSES MET NAUSICAA.]\n\n'Yesterday, on the twentieth day, I escaped from the wine-dark deep, but\nall that time continually the wave bare me, and the vehement winds drave\nfrom the isle Ogygia. And now some god has cast me on this shore that\nhere too, methinks, some evil may betide me; for I think not that\ntrouble will cease; the gods ere that time will yet bring many a thing\nto pass. But, queen, have pity on me, for, after many trials and sore,\nto thee first of all am I come, and of the other folk, who hold this\ncity and land, I know no man. Nay, show me the town; give me an old\ngarment to cast about me, if thou hadst, when thou camest here, any wrap\nfor the linen. And may the gods grant thee all thy heart's desire: a\nhusband and a home, and a mind at one with his may they give--a good\ngift, for there is nothing mightier and nobler than when man and wife\nare of one heart and mind in a house, a grief to their foes, and to\ntheir friends great joy, but their own hearts know it best.'\n\nThen Nausicaa of the white arms, answered him, and said:\n\n'Stranger, as thou seemest no evil man nor foolish--and it is Olympian\nZeus himself that giveth weal to men, to the good and to the evil, to\neach one as he will, and this thy lot doubtless is of him, and so thou\nmust in anywise endure it--now, since thou hast come to our city and our\nland, thou shalt not lack raiment nor aught else that is the due of a\nhapless suppliant when he has met them who can befriend him. And I will\nshow thee the town, and name the name of the people. The Phaeacians hold\nthis city and land, and I am the daughter of Alcinous, great of heart,\non whom all the might and force of the Phaeacians depend.'\n\nThus she spake, and called to her maidens of the fair tresses: 'Halt, my\nmaidens, whither flee ye at the sight of a man? Ye surely do not take\nhim for an enemy? That mortal breathes not, and never will be born, who\nshall come with war to the land of the Phaeacians, for they are very\ndear to the gods. Far apart we live in the wash of the waves, the\noutermost of men, and no other mortals are conversant with us. Nay, but\nthis man is some helpless one come hither in his wanderings, whom now we\nmust kindly entreat, for all strangers and beggars are from Zeus, and a\nlittle gift is dear. So, my maidens, give the stranger meat and drink,\nand bathe him in the river, where there is a shelter from the winds.'\n\nSo she spake, but they halted and called each to the other, and they\nbrought Ulysses to the sheltered place, and made him sit down, as\nNausiaca bade them, the daughter of Alcinous, high of heart. Beside him\nthey laid a mantle and a doublet for raiment, and gave him soft olive\noil in the golden cruse, and bade him wash in the streams of the river.\nThen goodly Ulysses spake among the maidens, saying: 'I pray you stand\nthus apart while I myself wash the brine from my shoulders, and anoint\nme with olive oil, for truly oil is long a stranger to my skin. But in\nyour sight I will not bathe, for I am ashamed to make me naked in the\ncompany of fair-tressed maidens.'\n\nThen they went apart and told all to their lady. But with the river\nwater the goodly Ulysses washed from his skin the salt scurf that\ncovered his back and broad shoulders, and from his head he wiped the\ncrusted brine of the barren sea. But when he had washed his whole body,\nand anointed him with olive oil, and had clad himself in the raiment\nthat the unwedded maiden gave him, then Athene, the daughter of Zeus,\nmade him greater and more mighty to behold, and from his head caused\ndeep curling locks to flow, like the hyacinth flower. And, as when some\nskilful man overlays gold upon silver--one that Hephaestus and Pallas\nAthene have taught all manner of craft, and full of grace is his\nhandiwork--even so did Athene shed grace about his head and shoulders.\n\nThen to the shore of the sea went Ulysses apart, and sat down, glowing\nin beauty and grace, and the princess marvelled at him, and spake among\nher fair-tressed maidens, saying:\n\n'Listen, my white-armed maidens, and I will say somewhat. Not without\nthe will of all the gods who hold Olympus has this man come among the\ngodlike Phaeacians. Erewhile he seemed to me uncomely, but now he is\nlike the gods that keep the wide heaven. Would that such an one might be\ncalled my husband, dwelling here, and that it might please him here to\nabide! But come, my maidens, give the stranger meat and drink.'\n\nThus she spake, and they gave ready ear and hearkened, and set beside\nUlysses meat and drink, and the steadfast goodly Ulysses did eat and\ndrink eagerly, for it was long since he had tasted food.\n\nNow Nausicaa of the white arms had another thought. She folded the\nraiment and stored it in the goodly wain, and yoked the mules, strong of\nhoof, and herself climbed into the car. Then she called on Ulysses, and\nspake and hailed him: 'Up now, stranger, and rouse thee to go to the\ncity, that I may convey thee to the house of my wise father, where, I\npromise thee, thou shalt get knowledge of all the noblest of the\nPhaeacians. But do thou even as I tell thee, and thou seemest a discreet\nman enough. So long as we are passing along the fields and farms of\nmen, do thou fare quickly with the maidens behind the mules and the\nchariot, and I will lead the way. But when we set foot within the city,\nwhereby goes a high wall with towers, and there is a fair haven on\neither side of the town, and narrow is the entrance, and curved ships\nare drawn up on either hand of the mole, thou shalt find a fair grove of\nAthene, a poplar grove, near the road, and a spring wells forth therein,\nand a meadow lies all around.\n\nThere is my father's land, and his fruitful close, within the sound of a\nman's shout from the city. Sit thee down there and wait until such time\nas we may have come into the city, and reached the house of my father.\nBut when thou deemest that we are got to the palace, then go up to the\ncity of the Phaeacians, and ask for the house of my father, Alcinous,\nhigh of heart. It is easily known, and a young child could be thy guide,\nfor nowise like it are builded the houses of the Phaeacians, so goodly\nis the palace of the hero Alcinous. But when thou art within the shadow\nof the halls and the court, pass quickly through the great chamber till\nthou comest to my mother, who sits at the hearth in the light of the\nfire, weaving yarn of sea-purple stain, a wonder to behold. Her chair is\nleaned against a pillar, and her maidens sit behind her. And there my\nfather's throne leans close to hers, wherein he sits and drinks his\nwine, like an immortal. Pass thou by him, and cast thy hands about my\nmother's knees that thou mayest see quickly and with joy the day of thy\nreturning, even if thou art from a very far country. If but her heart be\nkindly disposed towards thee, then is there hope that thou shalt see thy\nfriends, and come to thy well-builded house, and to thine own country.'\n\nShe spake and smote the mules with the shining whip, and quickly they\nleft behind them the streams of the river; and well they trotted and\nwell they paced, and she took heed to drive in such wise that the\nmaidens and Ulysses might follow on foot, and cunningly she plied the\nlash. Then the sun set, and they came to the famous grove, the sacred\nplace of Athene; so there the goodly Ulysses sat him down. Then\nstraightway he prayed to the daughter of mighty Zeus: 'Listen to me,\nchild of Zeus, lord of the aegis, unwearied maiden; hear me even now,\nsince before thou heardest not when I was smitten on the sea, when the\nrenowned earth-shaker smote me. Grant me to come to the Phaeacians as\none dear and worthy of pity.'\n\nSo he spake in prayer, and Pallas Athene heard him; but she did not yet\nappear to him face to face, for she had regard unto her father's\nbrother, who furiously raged against the god-like Ulysses till he should\ncome to his own country.\n\nWhile Nausicaa and her maidens went home, Ulysses waited near the temple\ntill they should have arrived, and then he rose and walked to the city,\nwondering at the harbour, full of ships, and at the strength of the\nwalls. The Goddess Athene met him, disguised as a mortal girl, and told\nhim again how the name of the king was Alcinous, and his wife's name was\nArete: she was wise and kind, and had great power in the city. The\nGoddess caused Ulysses to pass unseen among the people till he reached\nthe palace, which shone with bronze facings to the walls, while within\nthe hall were golden hounds and golden statues of young men holding\ntorches burning to give light to those who sat at supper. The gardens\nwere very beautiful, full of fruit trees, and watered by streams that\nflowed from two fountains. Ulysses stood and wondered at the beauty of\nthe gardens, and then walked, unseen, through the hall, and knelt at the\nfeet of Queen Arete, and implored her to send him in a ship to his own\ncountry.\n\nA table was brought to him, and food and wine were set before him, and\nAlcinous, as his guests were going home, spoke out and said that the\nstranger was to be entertained, whoever he might be, and sent safely on\nhis way. The guests departed, and Arete, looking at Ulysses, saw that\nthe clothes he wore were possessions of her house, and asked him who he\nwas, and how he got the raiment? Then he told her how he had been\nshipwrecked, and how Nausicaa had given him food, and garments out of\nthose which she had been washing. Then Arete said that Nausicaa should\nhave brought Ulysses straight to her house; but Ulysses answered: 'Chide\nnot, I pray you, the blameless damsel,' and explained that he himself\nwas shy, and afraid that Nausicaa's parents might not like to see her\ncoming with an unknown stranger. King Alcinous answered that he was not\njealous and suspicious. To a stranger so noble as Ulysses he would very\ngladly see his daughter married, and would give him a house and plenty\nof everything. But if the stranger desired to go to his own country,\nthen a ship should be made ready for him. Thus courteous was Alcinous,\nfor he readily saw that Ulysses, who had not yet told his name, was of\nnoble birth, strong and wise. Then all went to bed, and Ulysses had a\nsoft bed and a warm, with blankets of purple.\n\nNext day Alcinous sent two-and-fifty young men to prepare a ship, and\nthey moored her in readiness out in the shore water; but the chiefs\ndined with Alcinous, and the minstrel sang about the Trojan war, and so\nstirred the heart of Ulysses, that he held his mantle before his face\nand wept. When Alcinous saw that, he proposed that they should go and\namuse themselves with sports in the open air; races, wrestling, and\nboxing. The son of Alcinous asked Ulysses if he would care to take part\nin the games, but Ulysses answered that he was too heavy at heart. To\nthis a young man, Euryalus, said that Ulysses was probably a captain of\na merchant ship, a tradesman, not a sportsman.\n\nAt this Ulysses was ill pleased, and replied that while he was young and\nhappy, he was well skilled in all sports, but now he was heavy and weak\nwith war and wandering. Still, he would show what he could do. Then he\nseized a heavy weight, much heavier than any that the Phaeacians used in\nputting the stone. He whirled it up, and hurled it far--far beyond the\nfurthest mark that the Phaeacians had reached when putting a lighter\nweight. Then he challenged any man to run a race with him or box with\nhim, or shoot at a mark with him. Only his speed in running did he\ndoubt, for his limbs were stiffened by the sea. Perhaps Alcinous saw\nthat it would go ill with any man who matched himself against the\nstranger, so he sent for the harper, who sang a merry song, and then he\nmade the young men dance and play ball, and bade the elder men go and\nbring rich presents of gold and garments for the wanderer. Alcinous\nhimself gave a beautiful coffer and chest, and a great golden cup, and\nArete tied up all the gifts in the coffer, while the damsels took\nUlysses to the bath, and bathed him and anointed him with oil.\n\nAs he left the bath he met Nausicaa, standing at the entrance of the\nhall. She bade him good-bye, rather sadly, saying: 'Farewell, and do not\nsoon forget me in your own country, for to me you owe the ransom of your\nlife.' 'May God grant to me to see my own country, lady,' he answered,\n'for there I will think of you with worship, as I think of the blessed\nGods, all my days, for to you, lady, I owe my very life.' These were the\nlast words they spoke to each other, for Nausicaa did not sit at meat in\nthe hall with the great company of men. When they had taken supper, the\nblind harper sang again a song about the deeds of Ulysses at Troy, and\nagain Ulysses wept, so that Alcinous asked him: 'Hast thou lost a dear\nfriend or a kinsman in the great war?' Then Ulysses spoke out: 'I am\nUlysses, Laertes' son, of whom all men have heard tell.' While they sat\namazed, he began, and told them the whole story of his adventures, from\nthe day when he left Troy till he arrived at Calypso's island; he had\nalready told them how he was shipwrecked on his way thence to Phaeacia.\n\nAll that wonderful story he told to their pleasure, and Euryalus made\namends for his rude words at the games, and gave Ulysses a beautiful\nsword of bronze, with an ivory hilt set with studs of gold. Many other\ngifts were given to him, and were carried and stored on board the ship\nwhich had been made ready, and then Ulysses spoke good-bye to the Queen,\nsaying: 'Be happy, oh Queen, till old age and death come to you, as they\ncome to all. Be joyful in your house with your children and your people,\nand Alcinous the King.' Then he departed, and lay down on sheets and\ncloaks in the raised deck of the ship, and soundly he slept while the\nfifty oars divided the waters of the sea, and drove the ship to Ithaca.\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\nHOW ULYSSES CAME TO HIS OWN COUNTRY, AND FOR SAFETY DISGUISED HIMSELF AS\nAN OLD BEGGAR MAN\n\n\nWhen Ulysses awoke, he found himself alone, wrapped in the linen sheet\nand the bright coverlet, and he knew not where he was. The Phaeacians\nhad carried him from the ship as he slept, and put him on shore, and\nplaced all the rich gifts that had been given him under a tree, and then\nhad sailed away. There was a morning mist that hid the land, and Ulysses\ndid not know the haven of his own island, Ithaca, and the rock whence\nsprang a fountain of the water fairies that men call Naiads. He thought\nthat the Phaeacians had set him in a strange country, so he counted all\nhis goods, and then walked up and down sadly by the seashore. Here he\nmet a young man, delicately clad, like a king's son, with a double\nmantle, such as kings wear, folded round his shoulders, and a spear in\nhis hand. 'Tell me pray,' said Ulysses, 'what land is this, and what men\ndwell here?'\n\nThe young man said: 'Truly, stranger, you know little, or you come from\nfar away. This isle is Ithaca, and the name of it is known even in\nTroyland.'\n\nUlysses was glad, indeed, to learn that he was at home at last; but how\nthe young men who had grown up since he went away would treat him, all\nalone as he was, he could not tell. So he did not let out that he was\nUlysses the King, but said that he was a Cretan. The stranger would\nwonder why a Cretan had come alone to Ithaca, with great riches, and yet\ndid not know that he was there. So he pretended that, in Crete, a son of\nIdomeneus had tried to rob him of all the spoil he took at Troy, and\nthat he had killed this prince, and packed his wealth and fled on board\na ship of the Phoenicians, who promised to land him at Pylos. But the\nwind had borne them out of their way, and they had all landed and slept\non shore, here; but the Phoenicians had left him asleep and gone off in\nthe dawn.\n\nOn this the young man laughed, and suddenly appeared as the great\nGoddess, Pallas Athene. 'How clever you are,' she said; 'yet you did not\nknow me, who helped you in Troyland. But much trouble lies before you,\nand you must not let man or woman know who you really are, your enemies\nare so many and powerful.'\n\n'You never helped me in my dangers on the sea,' said Ulysses, 'and now\ndo you make mock of me, or is this really mine own country?'\n\n'I had no mind,' said the Goddess, 'to quarrel with my brother the Sea\nGod, who had a feud against you for the blinding of his son, the\nCyclops. But come, you shall see this is really Ithaca,' and she\nscattered the white mist, and Ulysses saw and knew the pleasant cave of\nthe Naiads, and the forests on the side of the mountain called Neriton.\nSo he knelt down and kissed the dear earth of his own country, and\nprayed to the Naiads of the cave. Then the Goddess helped him to hide\nall his gold, and bronze, and other presents in a secret place in the\ncavern; and she taught him how, being lonely as he was, he might destroy\nthe proud wooers of his wife, who would certainly desire to take his\nlife.\n\nThe Goddess began by disguising Ulysses, so that his skin seemed\nwrinkled, and his hair thin, and his eyes dull, and she gave him dirty\nold wraps for clothes, and over all a great bald skin of a stag, like\nthat which he wore when he stole into Troy disguised as a beggar. She\ngave him a staff, too, and a wallet to hold scraps of broken food. There\nwas not a man or a woman that knew Ulysses in this disguise. Next, the\nGoddess bade him go across the island to his own swineherd, who remained\nfaithful to him, and to stay there among the swine till she brought home\nTelemachus, who was visiting Helen and Menelaus in Lacedaemon. She fled\naway to Lacedaemon, and Ulysses climbed the hills that lay between the\ncavern and the farm where the swineherd lived.\n\nWhen Ulysses reached the farmhouse, the swineherd, Eumaeus, was sitting\nalone in front of his door, making himself a pair of brogues out of the\nskin of an ox. He was a very honest man, and, though he was a slave, he\nwas the son of a prince in his own country. When he was a little child\nsome Phoenicians came in their ship to his father's house and made\nfriends with his nurse, who was a Phoenician woman. One of them, who\nmade love to her, asked her who she was, and she said that her father\nwas a rich man in Sidon, but that pirates had carried her away and sold\nher to her master. The Phoenicians promised to bring her back to Sidon,\nand she fled to their ship, carrying with her the child whom she nursed,\nlittle Eumaeus; she also stole three cups of gold. The woman died at\nsea, and the pirates sold the boy to Laertes, the father of Ulysses, who\ntreated him kindly. Eumaeus was fond of the family which he served, and\nhe hated the proud wooers for their insolence.\n\nWhen Ulysses came near his house the four great dogs rushed out and\nbarked at him; they would have bitten, too, but Eumaeus ran up and threw\nstones at them, and no farm dog can face a shower of stones. He took\nUlysses into his house, gave him food and wine, and told him all about\nthe greed and pride of the wooers. Ulysses said that the master of\nEumaeus would certainly come home, and told a long story about himself.\nHe was a Cretan, he said, and had fought at Troy, and later had been\nshipwrecked, but reached a country called Thesprotia, where he learned\nthat Ulysses was alive, and was soon to leave Thesprotia and return to\nIthaca.\n\nEumaeus did not believe this tale, and supposed that the beggar man only\nmeant to say what he would like to hear. However, he gave Ulysses a good\ndinner of his own pork, and Ulysses amused him and his fellow slaves\nwith stories about the Siege of Troy, till it was bedtime.\n\nIn the meantime Athene had gone to Lacedaemon to the house of Menelaus,\nwhere Telemachus was lying awake. She told him that Penelope, his\nmother, meant to marry one of the wooers, and advised him to sail home\nat once, avoiding the strait between Ithaca and another isle, where his\nenemies were lying in wait to kill him. When he reached Ithaca he must\nsend his oarsmen to the town, but himself walk alone across the island\nto see the swineherd. In the morning Telemachus and his friend,\nPisistratus, said good-bye to Menelaus and Helen, who wished to make him\npresents, and so went to their treasure house. Now when they came to the\nplace where the treasures were stored, then Atrides took a double cup,\nand bade his son, Megapenthes, to bear a mixing-bowl of silver. And\nHelen stood by the coffers, wherein were her robes of curious needlework\nwhich she herself had wrought. So Helen, the fair lady, lifted one and\nbrought it out--the widest and most beautifully embroidered of all--and\nit shone like a star, and lay far beneath the rest.\n\nThen they went back through the house till they came to Telemachus; and\nMenelaus, of the fair hair, spake to him, saying:\n\n'Telemachus, may Zeus the thunderer, and the lord of Hera, in very truth\nbring about thy return according to the desire of thy heart. And of the\ngifts, such as are treasures stored in my house, I will give thee the\ngoodliest and greatest of price. I will give thee a mixing-bowl\nbeautifully wrought; it is all of silver, and the lips thereof are\nfinished with gold, the work of Hephaestus; and the hero Phaedimus, the\nking of the Sidonians, gave it to me when his house sheltered me, on my\ncoming thither. This cup I would give to thee.'\n\nTherewith the hero Atrides set the double cup in his hands. And the\nstrong Megapenthes bare the shining silver bowl and set it before him.\nAnd Helen came up, beautiful Helen, with the robe in her hands, and\nspake and hailed him:\n\n'Lo! I, too, give thee this gift, dear child, a memorial of the hands of\nHelen, against the day of thy desire, even of thy bridal, for thy bride\nto wear it. But, meanwhile, let it lie by thy dear mother in her\nchamber. And may joy go with thee to thy well-builded house and thine\nown country.'\n\nJust when Telemachus was leaving her palace door, an eagle stooped from\nthe sky and flew away with a great white goose that was feeding on the\ngrass, and the farm servants rushed out shouting, but the eagle passed\naway to the right hand, across the horses of Pisistratus.\n\nThen Helen explained the meaning of this omen. 'Hear me, and I will\nprophesy as the immortals put it into my heart, and as I deem it will be\naccomplished. Even as yonder eagle came down from the hill, the place\nof his birth and kin, and snatched away the goose that was fostered in\nthe house, even so shall Ulysses return home after much trial and long\nwanderings and take vengeance; yea! or even now is he at home and sowing\nthe seeds of evil for all the wooers.' We are told no more about Helen\nof the fair hands, except that she and Menelaus never died, but were\ncarried by the Gods to the beautiful Elysian plain, a happy place where\nwar and trouble never came, nor old age, nor death. After that she was\nworshipped in her own country as if she had been a Goddess, kind,\ngentle, and beautiful.\n\nTelemachus thanked Helen for prophesying good luck, and he drove to the\ncity of Nestor, on the sea, but was afraid to go near the old king, who\nwould have kept him and entertained him, while he must sail at once for\nIthaca. He went to his own ship in the harbour, and, while his crew made\nready to sail, there came a man running hard, and in great fear of the\navenger of blood. This was a second-sighted man, called Theoclymenus,\nand he implored Telemachus to take him to Ithaca, for he had slain a man\nin his own country, who had killed one of his brothers, and now the\nbrothers and cousins of that man were pursuing him to take his life.\nTelemachus made him welcome, and so sailed north to Ithaca, wondering\nwhether he should be able to slip past the wooers, who were lying in\nwait to kill him. Happily the ship of Telemachus passed them unseen in\nthe night, and arrived at Ithaca. He sent his crew to the town, and was\njust starting to walk across the island to the swineherd's house, when\nthe second-sighted man asked what _he_ should do. Telemachus told\nPiraeus, one of his friends, to take the man home and be kind to him,\nwhich he gladly promised to do, and then he set off to seek the\nswineherd.\n\nThe swineherd, with Ulysses, had just lit a fire to cook breakfast, when\nthey saw the farm dogs frolicking round a young man who was walking\ntowards the house. The dogs welcomed him, for he was no stranger, but\nTelemachus. Up leaped the swineherd in delight, and the bowl in which he\nwas mixing wine and water fell from his hands. He had been unhappy for\nfear the wooers who lay in wait for Telemachus should kill him, and he\nran and embraced the young man as gladly as a father welcomes a son who\nhas long been in a far country. Telemachus, too, was anxious to hear\nwhether his mother had married one of the wooers, and glad to know that\nshe still bore her troubles patiently.\n\nWhen Telemachus stepped into the swineherd's house Ulysses arose from\nhis seat, but Telemachus bade the old beggar man sit down again, and a\npile of brushwood with a fleece thrown over it was brought for himself.\nThey breakfasted on what was ready, cold pork, wheaten bread, and wine\nin cups of ivy wood, and Eumaeus told Telemachus that the old beggar\ngave himself out as a wanderer from Crete. Telemachus answered that he\ncould not take strangers into his mother's house, for he was unable to\nprotect them against the violence of the wooers, but he would give the\nwanderer clothes and shoes and a sword, and he might stay at the farm.\nHe sent the swineherd to tell his mother, Penelope, that he had returned\nin safety, and Eumaeus started on his journey to the town.\n\nAt this moment the farm dogs, which had been taking their share of the\nbreakfast, began to whine, and bristle up, and slunk with their tails\nbetween their legs to the inmost corner of the room. Telemachus could\nnot think why they were afraid, or of what, but Ulysses saw the Goddess\nAthene, who appeared to him alone, and the dogs knew that something\nstrange and terrible was coming to the door. Ulysses went out, and\nAthene bade him tell Telemachus who he really was, now that they were\nalone, and she touched Ulysses with her golden wand, and made him appear\nlike himself, and his clothes like a king's raiment.\n\nTelemachus, who neither saw nor heard Athene, wondered greatly, and\nthought the beggar man must be some God, wandering in disguise. But\nUlysses said, 'No God am I, but thine own father,' and they embraced\neach other and wept for joy.\n\nAt last Ulysses told Telemachus how he had come home in a ship of the\nPhaeacians, and how his treasure was hidden in the cave of the Naiads,\nand asked him how many the wooers were, and how they might drive them\nfrom the house. Telemachus replied that the wooers were one hundred and\neight, and that Medon, a servant of his own, took part with them; there\nwas also the minstrel of the house, whom they compelled to sing at their\nfeasts. They were all strong young men, each with his sword at his side,\nbut they had with them no shields, helmets, and breastplates. Ulysses\nsaid that, with the help of the Goddess, he hoped to get the better of\nthem, many as they were. Telemachus must go to the house, and Ulysses\nwould come next day, in the disguise of an old beggar. However ill the\nwooers might use him, Telemachus must take no notice, beyond saying that\nthey ought to behave better. Ulysses, when he saw a good chance, would\ngive Telemachus a sign to take away the shields, helmets, and weapons\nthat hung on the walls of the great hall, and to hide them in a secret\nplace. If the wooers missed them, he must say--first, that the smoke of\nthe fire was spoiling them; and, again, that they were better out of the\nreach of the wooers, in case they quarrelled over their wine. Telemachus\nmust keep two swords, two spears, and two shields for himself and\nUlysses to use, if they saw a chance, and he must let neither man nor\nwoman know that the old beggar man was his father.\n\nWhile they were talking, one of the crew of Telemachus and the swineherd\nwent to Penelope and told her how her son had landed. On hearing this\nthe wooers held a council as to how they should behave to him: Antinous\nwas for killing him, but Amphinomus and Eurymachus were for waiting, and\nseeing what would happen. Before Eumaeus came back from his errand to\nPenelope, Athene changed Ulysses into the dirty old beggar again.\n\n\n\n\nVIII\n\nULYSSES COMES DISGUISED AS A BEGGAR TO HIS OWN PALACE\n\n\nNext morning Telemachus went home, and comforted his mother, and told\nher how he had been with Nestor and Menelaus, and seen her cousin, Helen\nof the fair hands, but this did not seem to interest Penelope, who\nthought that her beautiful cousin was the cause of all her misfortunes.\nThen Theoclymenus, the second-sighted man whom Telemachus brought from\nPylos, prophesied to Penelope that Ulysses was now in Ithaca, taking\nthought how he might kill the wooers, who were then practising\nspear-throwing at a mark, while some of them were killing swine and a\ncow for breakfast.\n\nMeanwhile Ulysses, in disguise, and the swineherd were coming near the\ntown, and there they met the goatherd, Melanthius, who was a friend of\nthe wooers, and an insolent and violent slave. He insulted the old\nbeggar, and advised him not to come near the house of Ulysses, and\nkicked him off the road. Then Ulysses was tempted to slay him with his\nhands, but he controlled himself lest he should be discovered, and he\nand Eumaeus walked slowly to the palace. As they lingered outside the\ncourt, lo! a hound raised up his head and pricked his ears, even where\nhe lay: Argos, the hound of Ulysses, of the hardy heart, which of old\nhimself had bred. Now in time past the young men used to lead the hound\nagainst wild goats and deer and hares; but, as then, he lay despised\n(his master being afar) in the deep dung of mules and kine, whereof an\nample bed was spread before the doors till the slaves of Ulysses should\ncarry it away to dung therewith his wide demesne. There lay the dog\nArgos, full of vermin. Yet even now, when he was aware of Ulysses\nstanding by, he wagged his tail and dropped both his ears, but nearer to\nhis master he had not now the strength to draw. But Ulysses looked aside\nand wiped away a tear that he easily hid from Eumaeus, and straightway\nhe asked him, saying:\n\n'Eumaeus, verily this is a great marvel: this hound lying here in the\ndung. Truly he is goodly of growth, but I know not certainly if he have\nspeed with this beauty, or if he be comely only, like men's trencher\ndogs that their lords keep for the pleasure of the eye.'\n\nThen answered the swineherd Eumaeus: 'In very truth this is the dog of a\nman that has died in a far land. If he were what once he was in limb and\nin the feats of the chase, when Ulysses left him to go to Troy, soon\nwouldst thou marvel at the sight of his swiftness and his strength.\nThere was no beast that could flee from him in the deep places of the\nwood when he was in pursuit; for even on a track he was the keenest\nhound. But now he is holden in an evil case, and his lord hath perished\nfar from his own country, and the careless women take no charge of him.'\n\nTherewith he passed within the fair-lying house, and went straight to\nthe hall, to the company of the proud wooers. But upon Argos came death\neven in the hour that he beheld Ulysses again, in the twentieth year.\n\nThus the good dog knew Ulysses, though Penelope did not know him when\nshe saw him, and tears came into Ulysses' eyes as he stood above the\nbody of the hound that loved him well. Eumaeus went into the house, but\nUlysses sat down where it was the custom for beggars to sit, on the\nwooden threshold outside the door of the hall. Telemachus saw him, from\nhis high seat under the pillars on each side of the fire, in the middle\nof the room, and bade Eumaeus carry a loaf and a piece of pork to the\nbeggar, who laid them in his wallet between his feet, and ate. Then he\nthought he would try if there were one courteous man among the wooers,\nand he entered the hall and began to beg among them. Some gave him\ncrusts and bones, but Antinous caught up a footstool and struck him hard\non the shoulder. 'May death come upon Antinous before his wedding day!'\nsaid Ulysses, and even the other wooers rebuked him for striking a\nbeggar.\n\nPenelope heard of this, and told Eumaeus to bring the beggar to her; she\nthought he might have news of her husband. But Ulysses made Eumaeus say\nthat he had been struck once in the hall, and would not come to her\ntill after sunset, when the wooers left the house. Then Eumaeus went to\nhis own farmhouse, after telling Telemachus that he would come next day,\ndriving swine for the wooers to eat.\n\nUlysses was the new beggar in Ithaca: he soon found that he had a rival,\nan old familiar beggar, named Irus. This man came up to the palace, and\nwas angry when he saw a newcomer sitting in the doorway, 'Get up,' he\nsaid, 'I ought to drag you away by the foot: begone before we quarrel!'\n'There is room enough for both of us,' said Ulysses, 'do not anger me.'\nIrus challenged him to fight, and the wooers thought this good sport,\nand they made a ring, and promised that the winner should be\nbeggar-in-chief, and have the post to himself. Ulysses asked the wooers\nto give him fair play, and not to interfere, and then he stripped his\nshoulders, and kilted up his rags, showing strong arms and legs. As for\nIrus he began to tremble, but Antinous forced him to fight, and the two\nput up their hands. Irus struck at the shoulder of Ulysses, who hit him\nwith his right fist beneath the ear, and he fell, the blood gushing from\nhis mouth, and his heels drumming in the ground, and Ulysses dragged him\nfrom the doorway and propped him against the wall of the court, while\nthe wooers laughed. Then Ulysses spoke gravely to Amphinomus, telling\nhim that it would be wise in him to go home, for that if Ulysses came\nback it might not be so easy to escape his hands.\n\nAfter sunset Ulysses spoke so fiercely to the maidens of Penelope, who\ninsulted him, that they ran to their own rooms, but Eurymachus threw a\nfootstool at him. He slipped out of the way, and the stool hit the\ncupbearer and knocked him down, and all was disorder in the hall. The\nwooers themselves were weary of the noise and disorder, and went home to\nthe houses in the town where they slept. Then Telemachus and Ulysses,\nbeing left alone, hid the shields and helmets and spears that hung on\nthe walls of the hall in an armoury within the house, and when this was\ndone Telemachus went to sleep in his own chamber, in the courtyard, and\nUlysses waited till Penelope should come into the hall.\n\nUlysses sat in the dusky hall, where the wood in the braziers that gave\nlight had burned low, and waited to see the face of his wife, for whom\nhe had left beautiful Calypso. The maidens of Penelope came trooping,\nlaughing, and cleared away the food and the cups, and put faggots in the\nbraziers. They were all giddy girls, in love with the handsome wooers,\nand one of them, Melantho, bade Ulysses go away, and sleep at the\nblacksmith's forge, lest he should be beaten with a torch. Penelope\nheard Melantho, whom she had herself brought up, and she rebuked her,\nand ordered a chair to be brought for Ulysses. When he was seated, she\nasked him who he was, and he praised her beauty, for she was still very\nfair, but did not answer her question. She insisted that he should tell\nher who he was, and he said that he was a Cretan prince, the younger\nbrother of Idomeneus, and that he did not go to fight in Troyland. In\nCrete he stayed, and met Ulysses, who stopped there on his way to Troy,\nand he entertained Ulysses for a fortnight. Penelope wept when she heard\nthat the stranger had seen her husband, but, as false stories were often\ntold to her by strangers who came to Ithaca, she asked how Ulysses was\ndressed, and what manner of men were with him.\n\nThe beggar said that Ulysses wore a double mantle of purple, clasped\nwith a gold brooch fastened by two safety pins (for these were used at\nthat time), and on the face of the brooch was a figure of a hound\nholding a struggling fawn in his forepaws. (Many such brooches have been\nfound in the graves in Greece). Beneath his mantle Ulysses wore a\nshining smock, smooth and glittering like the skin of an onion. Probably\nit was made of silk: women greatly admired it. With him was a squire\nnamed Eurybates, a brown, round-shouldered man.\n\nOn hearing all this Penelope wept again and said that she herself had\ngiven Ulysses the brooch and the garments. She now knew that the beggar\nhad really met Ulysses, and he went on to tell her that, in his\nwanderings, he had heard how Ulysses was still alive, though he had lost\nall his company, and that he had gone to Dodona in the west of Greece to\nask for advice from the oak tree of Zeus, the whispering oak tree, as to\nhow he should come home, openly or secretly. Certainly, he said, Ulysses\nwould return that year.\n\nPenelope was still unable to believe in such good news, but she bade\nEurycleia, the old nurse, wash the feet of the beggar in warm water, so\na foot bath was brought. Ulysses turned his face away from the\nfirelight, for the nurse said that he was very like her master. As she\nwashed his legs she noticed the long scar of the wound made by the boar,\nwhen he hunted with his cousins, long ago, before he was married. The\nnurse knew him now, and spoke to him in a whisper, calling him by his\nname. But he caught her throat with his hand, and asked why she would\ncause his death, for the wooers would slay him if they knew who he was.\nEurycleia called him her child, and promised that she would be silent,\nand then she went to fetch more hot water, for she had let his foot\nfall into the bath and upset it when she found the scar.\n\nWhen she had washed him, Penelope told the beggar that she could no\nlonger refuse to marry one of the wooers. Ulysses had left a great bow\nin the house, the old bow of King Eurytus, that few could bend, and he\nhad left twelve iron axes, made with a round opening in the blade of\neach. Axes of this shape have been found at Lacedaemon, where Helen\nlived, so we know what the axes of Ulysses were like. When he was at\nhome he used to set twelve of them in a straight line, and shoot an\narrow through the twelve holes in the blades. Penelope therefore\nintended, next day, to bring the bow and the axes to the wooers, and to\nmarry any one of them who could string the bow, and shoot an arrow\nthrough the twelve axes.\n\n'I think,' said the beggar, 'that Ulysses will be here before any of the\nwooers have bent his bow.' Then Penelope went to her upper chamber, and\nUlysses slept in an outer gallery of the house on piled-up sheep skins.\n\nThere Ulysses lay, thinking how he might destroy all the wooers, and the\nGoddess Athene came and comforted him, and, in the morning, he rose and\nmade his prayer to Zeus, asking for signs of his favour. There came,\nfirst a peal of thunder, and then the voice of a woman, weak and old,\nwho was grinding corn to make bread for the wooers. All the other women\nof the mill had done their work and were asleep, but she was feeble and\nthe round upper stone of the quern, that she rolled on the corn above\nthe under stone, was too heavy for her.\n\nShe prayed, and said, 'Father Zeus, King of Gods and men, loudly hast\nthou thundered. Grant to me my prayer, unhappy as I am. May this be the\nlast day of the feasting of the wooers in the hall of Ulysses: they\nhave loosened my knees with cruel labour in grinding barley for them:\nmay they now sup their last!' Hearing this prayer Ulysses was glad, for\nhe thought it a lucky sign. Soon the servants were at work, and Eumaeus\ncame with swine, and was as courteous to the beggar as Melanthius, who\nbrought some goats, was insolent. The cowherd, called Philoetius, also\narrived; he hated the wooers, and spoke friendly to the beggar. Last\nappeared the wooers, and went in to their meal, while Telemachus bade\nthe beggar sit on a seat just within the hall, and told the servants to\ngive him as good a share of the food as any of them received. One wooer,\nCtesippus, said: 'His fair share this beggar man has had, as is right,\nbut I will give him a present over and above it!' Then he picked up the\nfoot of an ox, and threw it with all his might at Ulysses, who merely\nmoved aside, and the ox foot struck the wall.\n\nTelemachus rebuked him, and the wooers began to laugh wildly and to\nweep, they knew not why, but Theoclymenus, the second-sighted man, knew\nthat they were all fey men, that is, doomed to die, for such men are gay\nwithout reason. 'Unhappy that you are,' cried Theoclymenus, 'what is\ncoming upon you? I see shrouds covering you about your knees and about\nyour faces, and tears are on your cheeks, and the walls and the pillars\nof the roof are dripping blood, and in the porch and the court are your\nfetches, shadows of yourselves, hurrying hellward, and the sun is\ndarkened.'\n\nOn this all the wooers laughed, and advised him to go out of doors,\nwhere he would see that the sun was shining. 'My eyes and ears serve me\nwell,' said the second-sighted man, 'but out I will go, seeking no more\nof your company, for death is coming on every man of you.' Then he\narose and went to the house of Piraeus, the friend of Telemachus. The\nwooers laughed all the louder, as fey men do, and told Telemachus that\nhe was unlucky in his guests: one a beggar, the other a madman. But\nTelemachus kept watching his father while the wooers were cooking a meal\nthat they did not live to enjoy.\n\nThrough the crowd of them came Penelope, holding in her hand the great\nbow of Eurytus, and a quiver full of arrows, while her maidens followed,\ncarrying the chest in which lay the twelve iron axes. She stood up,\nstately and scornful, among the wooers, and told them that, as marry she\nmust, she would take the man who could string the bow and shoot the\narrow through the axes. Telemachus said that he would make the first\ntrial, and that, if he succeeded, he would not allow any man of the\nwooers to take his mother away with him from her own house. Then thrice\nhe tried to string the bow, and the fourth time he would have strung it,\nbut Ulysses made a sign to him, and he put it down. 'I am too weak,' he\nsaid, 'let a stronger man achieve this adventure.' So they tried each in\nturn, beginning with the man who sat next the great mixing-bowl of wine,\nand so each rising in his turn.\n\nFirst their prophet tried, Leiodes the Seer, who sat next the bowl, but\nhis white hands were too weak, and he prophesied, saying that the bow\nwould be the death of all of them. Then Antinous bade the goatherd light\na fire, and bring grease to heat the bow, and make it more supple. They\nwarmed and greased the bow, and one after another tried to bend it.\nEumaeus and the cowherd went out into the court, and Ulysses followed\nthem. 'Whose side would you two take,' he asked, 'if Ulysses came home?\nWould you fight for him or for the wooers?' 'For Ulysses!' they both\ncried, 'and would that he was come indeed!' 'He is come, and I am he!'\nsaid Ulysses. Then he promised to give them lands of their own if he was\nvictorious, and he showed them the scar on his thigh that the boar dealt\nwith his white tusk, long ago. The two men kissed him and shed tears of\njoy, and Ulysses said that he would go back first into the hall, and\nthat they were to follow him. He would ask to be allowed to try to bend\nthe bow, and Eumaeus, whatever the wooers said, must place it in his\nhands, and then see that the women were locked up in their own separate\nhall. Philoetius was to fasten the door leading from the courtyard into\nthe road. Ulysses then went back to his seat in the hall, near the door,\nand his servants followed.\n\nEurymachus was trying in vain to bend the bow, and Antinous proposed to\nput off the trial till next day, and then sacrifice to the God Apollo,\nand make fresh efforts. They began to drink, but Ulysses asked to be\nallowed to try if he could string the bow. They told him that wine had\nmade him impudent, and threatened to put him in a ship and send him to\nKing Echetus, an ogre, who would cut him to pieces. But Penelope said\nthat the beggar must try his strength; not that she would marry him, if\nhe succeeded. She would only give him new clothes, a sword, and a spear,\nand send him wherever he wanted to go. Telemachus cried out that the bow\nwas his own; he would make a present of it to the beggar if he chose;\nand he bade his mother join her maidens, and work at her weaving. She\nwas amazed to hear her son speak like the master of the house, and she\nwent upstairs with her maidens to her own room.\n\nEumaeus was carrying the bow to Ulysses, when the wooers made such an\nuproar that he laid it down, in fear for his life. But Telemachus\nthreatened to punish him if he did not obey his master, so he placed the\nbow in the hands of Ulysses, and then went and told Eurycleia to lock\nthe women servants up in their own separate hall. Philoetius slipped\ninto the courtyard, and made the gates fast with a strong rope, and then\ncame back, and watched Ulysses, who was turning the bow this way and\nthat, to see if the horns were still sound, for horns were then used in\nbow making. The wooers were mocking him, but suddenly he bent and strung\nthe great bow as easily as a harper fastens a new string to his harp. He\ntried the string, and it twanged like the note of a swallow. He took up\nan arrow that lay on the table (the others were in the quiver beside\nhim), he fitted it to the string, and from the chair where he sat he\nshot it through all the twelve axe heads. 'Your guest has done you no\ndishonour, Telemachus,' he said, 'but surely it is time to eat,' and he\nnodded. Telemachus drew his sword, took a spear in his left hand, and\nstood up beside Ulysses.\n\n\n\n\nIX\n\nTHE SLAYING OF THE WOOERS\n\n\nUlysses let all his rags fall down, and with one leap he reached the\nhigh threshold, the door being behind him, and he dropped, the arrows\nfrom the quiver at his feet. 'Now,' he said, 'I will strike another mark\nthat no man yet has stricken!' He aimed the arrow at Antinous, who was\ndrinking out of a golden cup. The arrow passed clean through the throat\nof Antinous; he fell, the cup rang on the ground, and the wooers leaped\nup, looking round the walls for shields and spears, but the walls were\nbare.\n\n'Thou shalt die, and vultures shall devour thee,' they shouted, thinking\nthe beggar had let the arrow fly by mischance.\n\n'Dogs!' he answered, 'ye said that never should I come home from Troy;\nye wasted my goods, and insulted my wife, and had no fear of the Gods,\nbut now the day of death has come upon you! Fight or flee, if you may,\nbut some shall not escape!'\n\n'Draw your blades!' cried Eurymachus to the others; 'draw your blades,\nand hold up the tables as shields against this man's arrows. Have at\nhim, and drive him from the doorway.' He drew his own sword, and leaped\non Ulysses with a cry, but the swift arrow pierced his breast, and he\nfell and died. Then Amphinomus rushed towards Ulysses, but Telemachus\nsent his spear from behind through his shoulders. He could not draw\nforth the spear, but he ran to his father, and said, 'Let me bring\nshields, spears, and helmets from the inner chamber, for us, and for the\nswineherd and cowherd.' 'Go!' said Ulysses, and Telemachus ran through a\nnarrow doorway, down a gallery to the secret chamber, and brought four\nshields, four helmets, and eight spears, and the men armed themselves,\nwhile Ulysses kept shooting down the wooers. When his arrows were spent\nhe armed himself, protected by the other three. But the goatherd,\nMelanthius, knew a way of reaching the armoury, and he climbed up, and\nbrought twelve helmets, spears, and shields to the wooers.\n\n[Illustration: ULYSSES SHOOTS THE FIRST ARROW AT THE WOOERS.]\n\nUlysses thought that one of the women was showering down the weapons\ninto the hall, but the swineherd and cowherd went to the armoury,\nthrough the doorway, as Telemachus had gone, and there they caught\nMelanthius, and bound him like a bundle, with a rope, and, throwing the\nrope over a rafter, dragged him up, and fastened him there, and left him\nswinging. Then they ran back to Ulysses, four men keeping the doorway\nagainst all the wooers that were not yet slain. But the Goddess Athene\nappeared to Ulysses, in the form of Mentor, and gave him courage. He\nneeded it, for the wooers, having spears, threw them in volleys, six at\na time, at the four. They missed, but the spears of the four slew each\nhis man. Again the wooers threw, and dealt two or three slight wounds,\nbut the spears of the four were winged with death. They charged,\nstriking with spear and sword, into the crowd, who lost heart, and flew\nhere and there, crying for mercy and falling at every blow. Ulysses slew\nthe prophet, Leiodes, but Phemius, the minstrel, he spared, for he had\ndone no wrong, and Medon, a slave, crept out from beneath an ox hide,\nwhere he had been lying, and asked Telemachus to pity him, and Ulysses\nsent him and the minstrel into the courtyard, where they sat trembling.\nAll the rest of the wooers lay dead in heaps, like heaps of fish on the\nsea shore, when they have been netted, and drawn to land.\n\nThen Ulysses sent Telemachus to bring Eurycleia, who, when she came and\nsaw the wooers dead, raised a scream of joy, but Ulysses said 'it is an\nunholy thing to boast over dead men.' He bade Telemachus and the\nservants carry the corpses into the courtyard, and he made the women\nwash and clean the hall, and the seats, and tables, and the pillars.\nWhen all was clean, they took Melanthius and slew him, and then they\nwashed themselves, and the maidens who were faithful to Penelope came\nout of their rooms, with torches in their hands, for it was now night,\nand they kissed Ulysses with tears of joy. These were not young women,\nfor Ulysses remembered all of them.\n\nMeanwhile old Eurycleia ran to tell Penelope all the good news: up the\nstairs to her chamber she ran, tripping, and falling, and rising, and\nlaughing for joy. In she came and awakened Penelope, saying:\n\n'Come and see what you have long desired: Ulysses in his own house, and\nall the wicked wooers slain by the sword.' 'Surely you are mad, dear\nnurse,' said Penelope, 'to waken me with such a wild story. Never have I\nslept so sound since Ulysses went to that ill Ilios, never to be named.\nAngry would I have been with any of the girls that wakened me with such\na silly story; but you are old: go back to the women's working room.'\nThe good nurse answered: 'Indeed, I tell you no silly tale. Indeed he is\nin the hall; he is that poor guest whom all men struck and insulted, but\nTelemachus knew his father.'\n\nThen Penelope leaped up gladly, and kissed the nurse, but yet she was\nnot sure that her husband had come, she feared that it might be some God\ndisguised as a man, or some evil man pretending to be Ulysses. 'Surely\nUlysses has met his death far away,' she said, and though Eurycleia\nvowed that she herself had seen the scar dealt by the boar, long ago,\nshe would not be convinced. 'None the less,' she said, 'let us go and\nsee my son, and the wooers lying dead, and the man who slew them.' So\nthey went down the stairs and along a gallery on the ground floor that\nled into the courtyard, and so entered the door of the hall, and crossed\nthe high stone threshold on which Ulysses stood when he shot down\nAntinous. Penelope went up to the hearth and sat opposite Ulysses, who\nwas leaning against one of the four tall pillars that supported the\nroof; there she sat and gazed at him, still wearing his rags, and still\nnot cleansed from the blood of battle. She did not know him, and was\nsilent, though Telemachus called her hard of belief and cold of heart.\n\n'My child,' she said, 'I am bewildered, and can hardly speak, but if\nthis man is Ulysses, he knows things unknown to any except him and me.'\nThen Ulysses bade Telemachus go to the baths and wash, and put on fresh\ngarments, and bade the maidens bring the minstrel to play music, while\nthey danced in the hall. In the town the friends and kinsfolk of the\nwooers did not know that they were dead, and when they heard the music\nthey would not guess that anything strange had happened. It was\nnecessary that nobody should know, for, if the kinsfolk of the dead men\nlearned the truth, they would seek to take revenge, and might burn down\nthe house. Indeed, Ulysses was still in great danger, for the law was\nthat the brothers and cousins of slain men must slay their slayers, and\nthe dead were many, and had many clansmen.\n\nNow Eurynome bathed Ulysses himself, and anointed him with oil, and clad\nhim in new raiment, so that he looked like himself again, full of\nstrength and beauty. He sat down on his own high seat beside the fire,\nand said: 'Lady, you are the fairest and most cruel Queen alive. No\nother woman would harden her heart against her husband, come home\nthrough many dangers after so many years. 'Nurse,' he cried to\nEurycleia, 'strew me a bed to lie alone, for her heart is hard as iron.'\n\nNow Penelope put him to a trial. 'Eurycleia,' she said, 'strew a bed for\nhim outside the bridal chamber that he built for himself, and bring the\ngood bedstead out of that room for him.'\n\n'How can any man bring out that bedstead?' said Ulysses, 'did I not make\nit with my own hands, with a standing tree for the bedpost? No man could\nmove that bed unless he first cut down the tree trunk.'\n\nThen at last Penelope ran to Ulysses and threw her arms round his neck,\nkissing him, and said: 'Do not be angry, for always I have feared that\nsome strange man of cunning would come and deceive me, pretending to be\nmy lord. But now you have told me the secret of the bed, which no mortal\nhas ever seen or knows but you and I, and my maiden whom I brought from\nmy own home, and who kept the doors of our chamber.' Then they embraced,\nand it seemed as if her white arms would never quite leave their hold on\nhis neck.\n\nUlysses told her many things, all the story of his wanderings, and how\nhe must wander again, on land, not on the sea, till he came to the\ncountry of men who had never seen salt. 'The Gods will defend you and\nbring you home to your rest in the end,' said Penelope, and then they\nwent to their own chamber, and Eurynome went before them with lighted\ntorches in her hands, for the Gods had brought them to the haven where\nthey would be.\n\n\n\n\nX\n\nTHE END\n\n\nWith the coming of the golden dawn Ulysses awoke, for he had still much\nto do. He and Telemachus and the cowherd and Eumaeus put on full armour,\nand took swords and spears, and walked to the farm where old Laertes,\nthe father of Ulysses, lived among his servants and worked in his\ngarden. Ulysses sent the others into the farmhouse to bid the old\nhousekeeper get breakfast ready, and he went alone to the vines, being\nsure that his father was at work among them.\n\nThere the old man was, in his rough gardening clothes, with leather\ngloves on, and patched leather leggings, digging hard. His servants had\ngone to gather loose stones to make a rough stone dyke, and he was all\nalone. He never looked up till Ulysses went to him, and asked him whose\nslave he was, and who owned the garden. He said that he was a stranger\nin Ithaca, but that he had once met the king of the island, who declared\nthat one Laertes was his father.\n\nLaertes was amazed at seeing a warrior all in mail come into his garden,\nbut said that he was the father of Ulysses, who had long been unheard of\nand unseen. 'And who are you?' he asked. 'Where is your own country?'\nUlysses said that he came from Sicily, and that he had met Ulysses five\nyears ago, and hoped that by this time he had come home.\n\nThen the old man sat down and wept, and cast dust on his head, for\nUlysses had not arrived from Sicily in five long years; certainly he\nmust be dead. Ulysses could not bear to see his father weep, and told\nhim that he was himself, come home at last, and that he had killed all\nthe wooers.\n\nBut Laertes asked him to prove that he really was Ulysses, so he showed\nthe scar on his leg, and, looking round the garden, he said: 'Come, I\nwill show you the very trees that you gave me when I was a little boy\nrunning about after you, and asking you for one thing or another, as\nchildren do. These thirteen pear trees are my very own; you gave them to\nme, and mine are these fifty rows of vines, and these forty fig trees.'\n\nThen Laertes was fainting for joy, but Ulysses caught him in his arms\nand comforted him. But, when he came to himself, he sighed, and said:\n'How shall we meet the feud of all the kin of the slain men in Ithaca\nand the other islands?' 'Be of good courage, father,' said Ulysses. 'And\nnow let us go to the farmhouse and breakfast with Telemachus.'\n\nSo Laertes first went to the baths, and then put on fresh raiment, and\nUlysses wondered to see him look so straight and strong. 'Would I were\nas strong as when I took the castle of Nericus, long ago,' said the old\nman, 'and would that I had been in the fight against the wooers!' Then\nall the old man's servants came in, overjoyed at the return of Ulysses,\nand they breakfasted merrily together.\n\nBy this time all the people in the town knew that the wooers had been\nslain, and they crowded to the house of Ulysses in great sorrow, and\ngathered their dead and buried them, and then met in the market place.\nThe father of Antinous, Eupeithes, spoke, and said that they would all\nbe dishonoured if they did not slay Ulysses before he could escape to\nNestor's house in Pylos. It was in vain that an old prophet told them\nthat the young men had deserved their death. The most of the men ran\nhome and put on armour, and Eupeithes led them towards the farm of\nLaertes, all in shining mail. But the Gods in heaven had a care for\nUlysses, and sent Athene to make peace between him and his subjects.\n\nShe did not come too soon, for the avengers were drawing near the\nfarmhouse, which had a garrison of only twelve men: Ulysses, Laertes,\nTelemachus, the swineherd, the cowherd, and servants of Laertes. They\nall armed themselves, and not choosing to defend the house, they went\nboldly out to meet their enemies. They encouraged each other, and\nLaertes prayed to Athene, and then threw his spear at Eupeithes. The\nspear passed clean through helmet and through head, and Eupeithes fell\nwith a crash, and his armour rattled as he fell. But now Athene\nappeared, and cried: 'Hold your hands, ye men of Ithaca, that no more\nblood may be shed, and peace may be made.' The foes of Ulysses, hearing\nthe terrible voice of the Goddess, turned and fled, and Ulysses uttered\nhis war-cry, and was rushing among them, when a thunderbolt fell at his\nfeet, and Athene bade him stop, lest he should anger Zeus, the Lord of\nThunder. Gladly he obeyed, and peace was made with oaths and with\nsacrifice, peace in Ithaca and the islands.\n\nHere ends the story of Ulysses, Laertes' son, for we do not know\nanything about his adventures when he went to seek a land of men who\nnever heard of the sea, nor eat meat savoured with salt.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FLEECE OF GOLD\n\n\n\n\nI\n\nTHE CHILDREN OF THE CLOUD\n\n\nWhile Troy still stood fast, and before King Priam was born, there was a\nking called Athamas, who reigned in a country beside the Grecian sea.\nAthamas was a young man, and was unmarried; because none of the\nprincesses who then lived seemed to him beautiful enough to be his wife.\nOne day he left his palace and climbed high up into a mountain,\nfollowing the course of a little river. He came to a place where a great\nblack rock stood on one side of the river, jutting into the stream.\nRound the rock the water flowed deep and dark. Yet, through the noise of\nthe river, the king thought he heard laughter and voices like the voices\nof girls. So he climbed very quietly up the back of the rock, and,\nlooking over the edge, there he saw three beautiful maidens bathing in a\npool, and splashing each other with the water. Their long yellow hair\ncovered them like cloaks and floated behind them on the pool. One of\nthem was even more beautiful than the others, and as soon as he saw her\nthe king fell in love with her, and said to himself, 'This is the wife\nfor me.'\n\nAs he thought this, his arm touched a stone, which slipped from the top\nof the rock where he lay, and went leaping, faster and faster as it\nfell, till it dropped with a splash into the pool below. Then the three\nmaidens heard it, and were frightened, thinking some one was near. So\nthey rushed out of the pool to the grassy bank where their clothes lay,\nlovely soft clothes, white and gray, and rosy-coloured, all shining with\npearl drops, and diamonds like dew.\n\nIn a moment they had dressed, and then it was as if they had wings, for\nthey rose gently from the ground, and floated softly up and up the\nwindings of the brook. Here and there among the green tops of the\nmountain-ash trees the king could just see the white robes shining and\ndisappearing, and shining again, till they rose far off like a mist, and\nso up and up into the sky, and at last he only followed them with his\neyes, as they floated like clouds among the other clouds across the\nblue. All day he watched them, and at sunset he saw them sink, golden\nand rose-coloured and purple, and go down into the dark with the setting\nsun.\n\nThe king went home to his palace, but he was very unhappy, and nothing\ngave him any pleasure. All day he roamed about among the hills, and\nlooked for the beautiful girls, but he never found them, and all night\nhe dreamed about them, till he grew thin and pale and was like to die.\n\nNow, the way with sick men then was that they made a pilgrimage to the\ntemple of a god, and in the temple they offered sacrifices. Then they\nhoped that the god would appear to them in a dream, or send them a true\ndream at least, and tell them how they might be made well again. So the\nking drove in his chariot a long way, to the town where this temple was.\nWhen he reached it, he found it a strange place. The priests were\ndressed in dogs' skins, with the heads of the dogs drawn down over\ntheir faces, and there were live dogs running all about the shrines, for\nthey were the favourite beasts of the god, whose name was Asclepius.\nThere was an image of him, with a dog crouched at his feet, and in his\nhand he held a serpent, and fed it from a bowl.\n\nThe king sacrificed before the god, and when night fell he was taken\ninto the temple, and there were many beds strewn on the floor and many\npeople lying on them, both rich and poor, hoping that the god would\nappear to them in a dream, and tell them how they might be healed. There\nthe king lay, like the rest, and for long he could not close his eyes.\nAt length he slept, and he dreamed a dream. But it was not the god of\nthe temple that he saw in his dream; he saw a beautiful lady, she seemed\nto float above him in a chariot drawn by doves, and all about her was a\ncrowd of chattering sparrows, and he knew that she was Aphrodite, the\nQueen of Love. She was more beautiful than any woman in the world, and\nshe smiled as she looked at the king, and said, 'Oh, King Athamas, you\nare sick for love! Now this you must do: go home and on the first night\nof the new moon, climb the hills to that place where you saw the Three\nMaidens. In the dawn they will come again to the river, and bathe in the\npool. Then do you creep out of the wood, and steal the clothes of her\nyou love, and she will not be able to fly away with the rest, and she\nwill be your wife.'\n\nThen she smiled again, and her doves bore her away, and the king woke,\nand remembered the dream, and thanked the lady in his heart, for he knew\nthat she was a goddess, the Queen of Love.\n\n[Illustration: KING ATHAMAS STEALS NEPHELE'S CLOTHES SO THAT SHE CANNOT\nFLOAT AWAY WITH HER SISTERS.]\n\nThen he drove home, and did all that he had been told to do. On the\nfirst night of the new moon, when she shines like a thin gold thread in\nthe sky, he left his palace, and climbed up through the hills, and hid\nin the wood by the edge of the pool. When the dawn began to shine\nsilvery, he heard voices, and saw the three girls come floating through\nthe trees, and alight on the river bank, and undress, and run into the\nwater. There they bathed, and splashed each other with the water,\nlaughing in their play. Then he stole to the grassy bank, and seized the\nclothes of the most beautiful of the three; and they heard him move, and\nrushed out to their clothes. Two of them were clad in a moment, and\nfloated away up the glen, but the third crouched sobbing and weeping\nunder the thick cloak of her yellow hair. Then she prayed the king to\ngive her back her soft gray and rose-coloured raiment, but he would not\ntill she had promised to be his wife. And he told her how long he had\nloved her, and how the goddess had sent him to be her husband, and at\nlast she promised, and took his hand, and in her shining robes went down\nthe hill with him to the palace. But he felt as if he walked on the air,\nand she scarcely seemed to touch the ground with her feet. She told him\nthat her name was Nephele, which meant 'a cloud,' in their language, and\nthat she was one of the Cloud Fairies who bring the rain, and live on\nthe hilltops, and in the high lakes, and water springs, and in the sky.\n\nSo they were married, and lived very happily, and had two children, a\nboy called Phrixus, and a daughter named Helle. The two children had a\nbeautiful pet, a Ram with a fleece all of gold, which was given them by\nthe young god called Hermes, a beautiful god, with wings on his\nshoon,--for these were the very Shoon of Swiftness, that he lent\nafterwards to the boy, Perseus, who slew the Gorgon, and took her head.\nThis Ram the children used to play with, and they would ride on his\nback, and roll about with him on the flowery meadows.\n\nThey would all have been happy, but for one thing. When there were\nclouds in the sky, and when there was rain, then their mother, Nephele,\nwas always with them; but when the summer days were hot and cloudless,\nthen she went away, they did not know where. The long dry days made her\ngrow pale and thin, and, at last, she would vanish altogether, and never\ncome again, till the sky grew soft and gray with rain.\n\nKing Athamas grew weary of this, for often his wife would be long away.\nBesides there was a very beautiful girl called Ino, a dark girl, who had\ncome in a ship of Phoenician merchantmen, and had stayed in the city\nof the king when her friends sailed from Greece. The king saw her, and\noften she would be at the palace, playing with the children when their\nmother had disappeared with the Clouds, her sisters.\n\nThis Ino was a witch, and one day she put a drug into the king's wine,\nand when he had drunk it, he quite forgot Nephele, his wife, and fell in\nlove with Ino. At last he married her, and they had two children, a boy\nand a girl, and Ino wore the crown, and was queen, and gave orders that\nNephele should never be allowed to enter the palace any more. So Phrixus\nand Helle never saw their mother, and they were dressed in ragged old\nskins of deer, and were ill fed, and were set to do hard work in the\nhouse, while the children of Ino wore gold crowns in their hair, and\nwere dressed in fine raiment, and had the best of everything.\n\nOne day when Phrixus and Helle were in the field, herding the sheep (for\nnow they were treated like peasant children, and had to work for their\nbread), they met an old woman, all wrinkled, and poorly clothed, and\nthey took pity on her, and brought her home with them. Queen Ino saw\nher, and as she wanted a nurse for her own children, she took her in to\nbe the nurse, and the old woman had charge of the children, and lived in\nthe house, and she was kind to Phrixus and Helle. But neither of them\nknew that she was their own mother, Nephele, who had disguised herself\nas an old woman and a servant, that she might be with her children.\n\nPhrixus and Helle grew strong and tall, and more beautiful than Ino's\nchildren, so she hated them, and determined, at last, to kill them. They\nall slept at night in one room, but Ino's children had gold crowns in\ntheir hair, and beautiful coverlets on their beds. One night, Phrixus\nwas half awake, and he heard the old nurse come, in the dark, and put\nsomething on his head, and on his sister's, and change their coverlets.\nBut he was so drowsy that he half thought it was a dream, and he lay and\nfell asleep. In the dead of night, the wicked stepmother, Ino, crept\ninto the room with a dagger in her hand, and she stole up to the bed of\nPhrixus, and felt his hair, and his coverlet. Then she went softly to\nthe bed of Helle, and felt her coverlet, and her hair with the gold\ncrown on it. So she supposed these to be her own children, and she\nkissed them in the dark, and went to the beds of the other two children.\nShe felt their heads, and they had no crowns on, so she killed them,\nsupposing that they were Phrixus and Helle. Then she crept downstairs\nand went back to bed.\n\nIn the morning, there lay the stepmother Ino's children cold and dead,\nand nobody knew who had killed them. Only the wicked queen knew, and\nshe, of course, would not tell of herself, but if she hated Phrixus and\nHelle before, now she hated them a hundred times worse than ever. But\nthe old nurse was gone; nobody ever saw her there again, and everybody\nbut the queen thought that _she_ had killed the two children. Everywhere\nthe king sought for her, to burn her alive, but he never found her, for\nshe had gone back to her sisters, the Clouds.\n\nAnd the Clouds were gone, too! For six long months, from winter to\nharvest time, the rain never fell. The country was burned up, the trees\ngrew black and dry, there was no water in the streams, the corn turned\nyellow and died before it was come into the ear. The people were\nstarving, the cattle and sheep were perishing, for there was no grass.\nAnd every day the sun rose hot and red, and went blazing through the sky\nwithout a cloud.\n\nHere the wicked stepmother, Ino, saw her chance. The king sent\nmessengers to Pytho, to consult the prophetess, and to find out what\nshould be done to bring back the clouds and the rain. Then Ino took the\nmessengers, before they set out on their journey, and gave them gold,\nand threatened also to kill them, if they did not bring the message she\nwished from the prophetess. Now this message was that Phrixus and Helle\nmust be burned as a sacrifice to the gods.\n\nSo the messengers went, and came back dressed in mourning. And when they\nwere brought before the king, at first they would tell him nothing. But\nhe commanded them to speak, and then they told him, not the real message\nfrom the prophetess, but what Ino had bidden them to say: that Phrixus\nand Helle must be offered as a sacrifice to appease the gods.\n\nThe king was very sorrowful at this news, but he could not disobey the\ngods. So poor Phrixus and Helle were wreathed with flowers, as sheep\nused to be when they were led to be sacrificed, and they were taken to\nthe altar, all the people following and weeping, and the Golden Ram went\nbetween them, as they walked to the temple. Then they came within sight\nof the sea, which lay beneath the cliff where the temple stood, all\nglittering in the sun, and the happy white sea-birds flying over it.\n\nHere the Ram stopped, and suddenly he spoke to Phrixus, for the god gave\nhim utterance, and said: 'Lay hold of my horn, and get on my back, and\nlet Helle climb up behind you, and I will carry you far away.'\n\nThen Phrixus took hold of the Ram's horn, and Helle mounted behind him,\nand grasped the golden fleece, and suddenly the Ram rose in the air, and\nflew above the people's heads, far away over the sea.\n\nFar away to the eastward he flew, and deep below them they saw the sea,\nand the islands, and the white towers and temples, and the fields, and\nships. Eastward always he went, toward the sun-rising, and Helle grew\ndizzy and weary. At last a deep sleep came over her, and she let go her\nhold of the Fleece, and fell from the Ram's back, down and down, into\nthe narrow seas, that run between Europe and Asia, and there she was\ndrowned. And that strait is called Helle's Ford, or Hellespont, to this\nday.\n\nBut Phrixus and the Ram flew on up the narrow seas, and over the great\nsea which the Greeks called the Euxine and we call the Black Sea, till\nthey reached a country named Colchis. There the Ram alighted, so tired\nand weary that he died, and Phrixus had his beautiful Golden Fleece\nstripped off, and hung on an oak tree in a dark wood. And there it was\nguarded by a monstrous Dragon, so that nobody dared to go near it. And\nPhrixus married the king's daughter, and lived long, till he died also,\nand a king called Aetes, the brother of the enchantress, Circe, ruled\nthat country. Of all the things he had, the rarest was the Golden\nFleece, and it became a proverb that nobody could take that Fleece away,\nnor deceive the Dragon who guarded it.\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nTHE SEARCH FOR THE FLEECE\n\n\nSome years after the Golden Ram died in Colchis, far across the sea, a\ncertain king reigned in Iolcos in Greece, and his name was Pelias. He\nwas not the rightful king, for he had turned his stepbrother, King Aeson,\nfrom the throne, and taken it for himself. Now, Aeson had a son, a boy\ncalled Jason, and he sent him far away from Pelias, up into the\nmountains. In these hills there was a great cave, and in that cave lived\nChiron the Wise, who, the story says, was half a horse. He had the head\nand breast of a man, but a horse's body and legs. He was famed for\nknowing more about everything than anyone else in all Greece. He knew\nabout the stars, and the plants of earth, which were good for medicine\nand which were poisonous. He was the best archer with the bow, and the\nbest player of the harp; he could sing songs and tell stories of old\ntimes, for he was the last of a people, half horse and half man, who had\ndwelt in ancient days on the hills. Therefore the kings in Greece sent\ntheir sons to him to be taught shooting, singing, and telling the truth,\nand that was all the teaching they had then, except that they learned to\nhunt, fish, and fight, and throw spears, and toss the hammer and the\nstone. There Jason lived with Chiron and the boys in the cave, and many\nof the boys became famous.\n\nThere was Orpheus who played the harp so sweetly that wild beasts\nfollowed his minstrelsy, and even the trees danced after him, and\nsettled where he stopped playing. There was Mopsus who could understand\nwhat the birds say to each other; and there was Butes, the handsomest of\nmen; and Tiphys, the best steersman of a ship; and Castor, with his\nbrother Polydeuces, the boxer. Heracles, too, the strongest man in the\nwhole world, was there; and Lynceus, whom they called Keen-eye, because\nhe could see so far, and could see even the dead men in their graves\nunder the earth. There was Ephemus, so swift and light-footed that he\ncould run upon the gray sea and never wet his feet; and there were\nCalais and Zetes, the two sons of the North Wind, with golden wings upon\ntheir feet. There also was Peleus, who later married Thetis of the\nsilver feet, goddess of the sea foam, and was the father of Achilles.\nMany others were there whose names it would take too long to tell. They\nall grew up together in the hills good friends, healthy, and brave, and\nstrong. And they all went out to their own homes at last; but Jason had\nno home to go to, for his uncle, Pelias, had taken it, and his father\nwas a wanderer.\n\nSo at last he wearied of being alone, and he said good-bye to his\nteacher, and went down through the hills toward Iolcos, his father's old\nhome, where his wicked uncle Pelias was reigning. As he went, he came to\na great, flooded river, running red from bank to bank, rolling the round\nboulders along. And there on the bank was an old woman sitting.\n\n'Cannot you cross, mother?' said Jason; and she said she could not, but\nmust wait until the flood fell, for there was no bridge.\n\n'I'll carry you across,' said Jason, 'if you will let me carry you.'\n\nSo she thanked him, and said it was a kind deed, for she was longing to\nreach the cottage where her little grandson lay sick.\n\nThen he knelt down, and she climbed upon his back, and he used his spear\nfor a staff, and stepped into the river. It was deeper than he thought,\nand stronger, but at last he staggered out on the farther bank, far\nbelow where he went in. And then he set the old woman down.\n\n'Bless you, my lad, for a strong man and a brave!' she said, 'and my\nblessing go with you to the world's end.'\n\nThen he looked and she was gone he did not know where, for she was the\ngreatest of the goddesses, Hera, the wife of Zeus, who had taken the\nshape of an old woman, to try Jason, whether he was kind and strong, or\nrude and churlish. From this day her grace went with him, and she helped\nhim in all dangers.\n\nThen Jason went down limping to the city, for he had lost one shoe in\nthe flood. And when he reached the town he went straight up to the\npalace, and through the court, and into the open door, and up the hall,\nwhere the king was sitting at his table among his men. There Jason\nstood, leaning on his spear.\n\nWhen the king saw him he turned white with terror. For he had been told\nby the prophetess of Pytho that a man with only one shoe would come some\nday and take away his kingdom. And here was the half-shod man of whom\nthe prophecy had spoken.\n\nBut Pelias still remembered to be courteous, and he bade his men lead\nthe stranger to the baths, and there the attendants bathed him, pouring\nhot water over him. And they anointed his head with oil, and clothed him\nin new raiment, and brought him back to the hall, and set him down at a\ntable beside the king, and gave him meat and drink.\n\nWhen he had eaten and was refreshed, the king said: 'Now it is time to\nask the stranger who he is, and who his parents are, and whence he comes\nto Iolcos?'\n\nAnd Jason answered, 'I am Jason, son of the rightful king, Aeson, and I\nam come to take back my kingdom.'\n\nThe king grew pale again, but he was cunning, and he leaped up and\nembraced the lad, and made much of him, and caused a gold circlet to be\ntwisted in his hair. Then he said he was old, and weary of judging the\npeople. 'And weary work it is,' he said, 'and no joy therewith shall any\nking have. For there is a curse on the country, that shall not be taken\naway till the Fleece of Gold is brought home, from the land of the\nworld's end. The ghost of Phrixus stands by my bedside every night,\nwailing and will not be comforted, till the Fleece is brought home\nagain.'\n\nWhen Jason heard that he cried, 'I shall take the curse away, for by the\nsplendour of Lady Hera's brow, I shall bring the Fleece of Gold from the\nland of the world's end before I sit on the throne of my father.'\n\nNow this was the very thing that the king wished, for he thought that if\nonce Jason went after the Fleece, certainly he would never come back\nliving to Iolcos. So he said that it could never be done, for the land\nwas far away across the sea, so far that the birds could not come and go\nin one year, so great a sea was that and perilous. Also, there was a\ndragon that guarded the Fleece of Gold, and no man could face it and\nlive.\n\nBut the idea of fighting a dragon was itself a temptation to Jason, and\nhe made a great vow by the water of Styx, an oath the very gods feared\nto break, that certainly he would bring home that Fleece to Iolcos. And\nhe sent out messengers all over Greece, to all his old friends, who were\nwith him in the Centaur's cave, and bade them come and help him, for\nthat there was a dragon to kill, and that there would be fighting. And\nthey all came, driving in their chariots down dales and across hills:\nHeracles, the strong man, with the bow that none other could bend; and\nOrpheus with his harp, and Castor and Polydeuces, and Zetes and Calais\nof the golden wings, and Tiphys, the steersman, and young Hylas, still a\nboy, and as fair as a girl, who always went with Heracles the strong.\n\nThese came, and many more, and they set shipbuilders to work, and oaks\nwere felled for beams, and ashes for oars, and spears were made, and\narrows feathered, and swords sharpened. But in the prow of the ship they\nplaced a bough of an oak tree from the forest of Zeus in Dodona where\nthe trees can speak, and that bough spoke, and prophesied things to\ncome. They called the ship 'Argo,' and they launched her, and put bread,\nand meat, and wine on board, and hung their shields outside the\nbulwarks. Then they said good-bye to their friends, went aboard, sat\ndown at the oars, set sail, and so away eastward to Colchis, in the land\nof the world's end.\n\nAll day they rowed, and at night they beached the ship, as was then the\ncustom, for they did not sail at night, and they went on shore, and took\nsupper, and slept, and next day to the sea again. And old Chiron, the\nman-horse, saw the swift ship from his mountain heights, and ran down\nto the beach; there he stood with the waves of the gray sea breaking\nover his feet, waving with his mighty hands, and wishing his boys a safe\nreturn. And his wife stood beside him, holding in her arms the little\nson of one of the ship's company, Achilles, the son of Peleus of the\nSpear, and of Thetis the goddess of the Sea Foam.\n\nSo they rowed ever eastward, and ere long they came to a strange isle\nwhere dwelt men with six hands apiece, unruly giants. And these giants\nlay in wait for them on cliffs above the river's mouth where the ship\nwas moored, and before the dawn they rolled down great rocks on the\ncrew. But Heracles drew his huge bow, the bow for which he slew Eurytus,\nking of Oechalia, and wherever a giant showed hand or shoulder above the\ncliff, he pinned him through with an arrow, till all were slain. After\nthat they still held eastward, passing many islands, and towns of men,\ntill they reached Mysia, and the Asian shore. Here they landed, with bad\nluck. For while they were cutting reeds and grass to strew their beds on\nthe sands, young Hylas, beautiful Hylas, went off with a pitcher in his\nhand to draw water. He came to a beautiful spring, a deep, clear, green\npool, and there the water-fairies lived, whom men called Nereids. There\nwere Eunis, and Nycheia with her April eyes, and when they saw the\nbeautiful Hylas, they longed to have him always with them, to live in\nthe crystal caves beneath the water, for they had never seen anyone so\nbeautiful. As he stooped with his pitcher and dipped it into the stream,\nthey caught him softly in their arms, and drew him down below, and no\nman ever saw him any more, but he dwelt with the water-fairies.\n\nBut Heracles the strong, who loved him like a younger brother, wandered\nall over the country crying '_Hylas! Hylas!_' and the boy's voice\nanswered so faintly from below the stream that Heracles never heard him.\nSo he roamed alone in the forests, and the rest of the crew thought he\nwas lost.\n\nThen the sons of the North Wind were angry, and bade them set sail\nwithout him, and sail they did, leaving the strong man behind. Long\nafterward, when the Fleece was won, Heracles met the sons of the North\nWind, and slew them with his arrows. And he buried them, and set a great\nstone on each grave, and one of these is ever stirred, and shakes when\nthe North Wind blows. There they lie, and their golden wings are at\nrest.\n\nStill they sped on, with a west wind blowing, and they came to a country\nwhose king was strong, and thought himself the best boxer then living,\nso he came down to the ship and challenged anyone of that crew; and\nPolydeuces, the boxer, took up the challenge. All the rest, and the\npeople of the country, made a ring, and Polydeuces and huge King Amycus\nstepped into the midst, and put up their hands. First they moved round\neach other cautiously, watching for a chance, and then, as the sun shone\nforth in the Giant's face, Polydeuces leaped in and struck him between\nthe eyes with his left hand, and, strong as he was, the Giant staggered\nand fell. Then his friends picked him up, and sponged his face with\nwater, and all the crew of 'Argo' shouted with joy. He was soon on his\nfeet again, and rushed at Polydeuces, hitting out so hard that he would\nhave killed him if the blow had gone home. But Polydeuces just moved his\nhead a little on one side, and the blow went by, and, as the Giant\nslipped, Polydeuces planted one in his mouth and another beneath his\near, and was away before the Giant could recover.\n\nThere they stood, breathing heavily, and glaring at each other, till the\nGiant made another rush, but Polydeuces avoided him, and struck him\nseveral blows quickly in the eyes, and now the Giant was almost blind.\nThen Polydeuces at once ended the combat by a right-hand blow on the\ntemple. The Giant fell, and lay as if he were dead. When he came to\nhimself again, he had no heart to go on, for his knees shook, and he\ncould hardly see. So Polydeuces made him swear never to challenge\nstrangers again as long as he lived, and then the crew of 'Argo' crowned\nPolydeuces with a wreath of poplar leaves, and they took supper, and\nOrpheus sang to them, and they slept, and next day they came to the\ncountry of the unhappiest of kings.\n\nHis name was Phineus, and he was a prophet; but, when he came to meet\nJason and his company, he seemed more like the ghost of a beggar than a\ncrowned king. For he was blind, and very old, and he wandered like a\ndream, leaning on a staff, and feeling the wall with his hand. His limbs\nall trembled, he was but a thing of skin and bone, and foul and filthy\nto see. At last he reached the doorway of the house where Jason was, and\nsat down, with his purple cloak fallen round him, and he held up his\nskinny hands, and welcomed Jason, for, being a prophet, he knew that now\nhe should be delivered from his wretchedness.\n\nHe lived, or rather lingered, in all this misery because he had offended\nthe gods, and had told men what things were to happen in the future\nbeyond what the gods desired that men should know. So they blinded him,\nand they sent against him hideous monsters with wings and crooked claws,\ncalled Harpies, which fell upon him at his meat, and carried it away\nbefore he could put it to his mouth. Sometimes they flew off with all\nthe meat; sometimes they left a little, that he might not quite starve,\nand die, and be at peace, but might live in misery. Yet what they left\nwas made so foul, and of such evil savour, that even a starving man\ncould scarcely take it within his lips. Thus this king was the most\nmiserable of all men living.\n\nHe welcomed the heroes, and, above all, Zetes and Calais, the sons of\nthe North Wind, for they, he knew, would help him. And they all went\ninto his wretched, naked hall, and sat down at the tables, and the\nservants brought meat and drink and placed it before them, the latest\nand last supper of the Harpies. Then down on the meat swooped the\nHarpies, like lightning or wind, with clanging brazen wings, and iron\nclaws, and the smell of a battlefield where men lie dead; down they\nswooped, and flew shrieking away with the food. But the two sons of the\nNorth Wind drew their short swords, and rose in the air on their golden\nwings, and followed where the Harpies fled, over many a sea and many a\nland, till they came to a distant isle, and there they slew the Harpies\nwith their swords. And that isle was called 'Turn Again,' for there the\nsons of the North Wind turned, and it was late in the night when they\ncame back to the hall of Phineus, and to their companions.\n\nHere Phineus was telling Jason and his company how they might win their\nway to Colchis and the world's end, and the wood of the Fleece of Gold.\n'First,' he said, 'you shall come in your ship to the Rocks Wandering,\nfor these rocks wander like living things in the sea, and no ship has\never sailed between them. They open, like a great mouth, to let ships\npass, and when she is between their lips they clash again, and crush her\nin their iron jaws. By this way even winged things may never pass; nay,\nnot even the doves that bear ambrosia to Father Zeus, the lord of\nOlympus, but the rocks ever catch one even of these. So, when you come\nnear them, you must let loose a dove from the ship, and let her go\nbefore you to try the way. And if she flies safely between the rocks\nfrom one sea to the other sea, then row with all your might when the\nrocks open again. But if the rocks close on the bird, then return, and\ndo not try the adventure. But, if you win safely through, then hold\nright on to the mouth of the River Phasis, and there you shall see the\ntowers of Aetes, the king, and the grove of the Fleece of Gold. And then\ndo as well as you may.'\n\nSo they thanked him, and the next morning they set sail, till they came\nto a place where the Rocks Wandering wallowed in the water, and all was\nfoam; but when the Rocks leaped apart the stream ran swift, and the\nwaves roared beneath the rocks, and the wet cliffs bellowed. Then\nEuphemus took the dove in his hands, and set her free, and she flew\nstraight at the pass where the rocks met, and sped right through, and\nthe rocks gnashed like gnashing teeth, but they caught only a feather\nfrom her tail.\n\nThen slowly the rocks opened again, like a wild beast's mouth that\nopens, and Tiphys, the helmsman, shouted, 'Row on, hard all!' and he\nheld the ship straight for the pass. Then the oars bent like bows in the\nhands of men, and the good ship leaped at the stroke. Three strokes they\npulled, and at each the ship leaped, and now they were within the black\njaws of the rocks, the water boiling round them, and so dark it was that\noverhead they could see the stars, but the oarsmen could not see the\ndaylight behind them, and the steersman could not see the daylight in\nfront. Then the great tide rushed in between the rocks like a rushing\nriver, and lifted the ship as if it were lifted by a hand, and through\nthe strait she passed like a bird, and the rocks clashed, and only broke\nthe carved wood of the ship's stern. And the ship reeled into the\nseething sea beyond, and all the men of Jason bowed their heads over\ntheir oars, half dead with the fierce rowing.\n\nThen they set all sail, and the ship sped merrily on, past the shores of\nthe inner sea, past bays and towns, and river mouths, and round green\nhills, the tombs of men slain long ago. And, behold, on the top of one\nmound stood a tall man, clad in rusty armour, and with a broken sword in\nhis hand, and on his head a helmet with a blood-red crest. Thrice he\nwaved his hand, and thrice he shouted aloud, and was no more seen, for\nthis was the ghost of Sthenelus, Actaeon's son, whom an arrow had slain\nthere long since, and he had come forth from his tomb to see men of his\nown blood, and to greet Jason and his company. So they anchored there,\nand slew sheep in sacrifice, and poured blood and wine on the grave of\nSthenelus. There Orpheus left a harp, placing it in the bough of a tree,\nthat the wind might sing in the chords, and make music to Sthenelus\nbelow the earth.\n\nThen they sailed on, and at evening they saw above their heads the snowy\ncrests of Mount Caucasus, flushed in the sunset; and high in the air\nthey saw, as it were, a black speck that grew greater and greater, and\nfluttered black wings, and then fell sheer down like a stone. Then they\nheard a dreadful cry from a valley of the mountain, for there Prometheus\nwas fastened to the rock, and the eagles fed upon him, because he stole\nfire from the gods, and gave it to men. All the heroes shuddered when\nthey heard his cry; but not long after Heracles came that way, and he\nslew the eagle with his bow, and set Prometheus free.\n\nBut at nightfall they came into the wide mouth of the River Phasis, that\nflows through the land of the world's end, and they saw the lights\nburning in the palace of Aetes the king. So now they were come to the\nlast stage of their journey, and there they slept, and dreamed of the\nFleece of Gold.\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nTHE WINNING OF THE FLEECE\n\n\nNext morning the heroes awoke, and left the ship moored in the river's\nmouth, hidden by tall reeds, for they took down the mast, lest it should\nbe seen. Then they walked toward the city of Colchis, and they passed\nthrough a strange and horrible wood. Dead men, bound together with\ncords, were hanging from the branches, for the Colchis people buried\nwomen, but hung dead men from the branches of trees. Then they came to\nthe palace, where King Aetes lived, with his young son Absyrtus, and his\ndaughter Chalciope, who had been the wife of Phrixus, and his younger\ndaughter, Medea, who was a witch, and the priestess of Brimo, a dreadful\ngoddess. Now Chalciope came out and welcomed Jason, for she knew the\nheroes were of her dear husband's country. And beautiful Medea, the dark\nwitch-girl, came forth and saw Jason, and as soon as she saw him she\nloved him more than her father and her brother and all her father's\nhouse. For his bearing was gallant, and his armour golden, and long\nyellow hair fell over his shoulders, and over the leopard skin that he\nwore above his armour. Medea turned white and then red, and cast down\nher eyes, but Chalciope took the heroes to the baths, and gave them\nfood, and they were brought to Aetes, who asked them why they came, and\nthey told him that they desired the Fleece of Gold, and he was very\nangry, and told them that only to a better man than himself would he\ngive up that Fleece. If any wished to prove himself worthy of it he must\ntame two bulls which breathed flame from their nostrils, and must plough\nfour acres with these bulls, and next he must sow the field with the\nteeth of a dragon, and these teeth when sown would immediately grow up\ninto armed men. Jason said that, as it must be, he would try this\nadventure, but he went sadly enough back to the ship and did not notice\nhow kindly Medea was looking after him as he went.\n\nNow, in the dead of night, Medea could not sleep, because she was so\nsorry for the stranger, and she knew that she could help him by her\nmagic. But she remembered how her father would burn her for a witch if\nshe helped Jason, and a great shame, too, came on her that she should\nprefer a stranger to her own people. So she arose in the dark, and stole\njust as she was to her sister's room, a white figure roaming like a\nghost in the palace. At her sister's door she turned back in shame,\nsaying, 'No, I will never do it,' and she went back again to her\nchamber, and came again, and knew not what to do; but at last she\nreturned to her own bower, and threw herself on her bed, and wept. Her\nsister heard her weeping, and came to her and they cried together, but\nsoftly, that no one might hear them. For Chalciope was as eager to help\nthe Greeks for love of Phrixus, her dead husband, as Medea was for the\nlove of Jason.\n\nAt last Medea promised to carry to the temple of the goddess of whom she\nwas a priestess, a drug that would tame the bulls which dwelt in the\nfield of that temple. But still she wept and wished that she were dead,\nand had a mind to slay herself; yet, all the time, she was longing for\nthe dawn, that she might go and see Jason, and give him the drug, and\nsee his face once more, if she was never to see him again. So, at dawn\nshe bound up her hair, and bathed her face, and took the drug, which was\npressed from a flower. That flower first blossomed when the eagle shed\nthe blood of Prometheus on the earth. The virtue of the juice of the\nflower was this, that if a man anointed himself with it, he could not\nthat day be wounded by swords, and fire could not burn him. So she\nplaced it in a vial beneath her girdle, and she went with other girls,\nher friends, to the temple of the goddess. Now Jason had been warned by\nChalciope to meet her there, and he was coming with Mopsus who knew the\nspeech of birds. But Mopsus heard a crow that sat on a poplar tree\nspeaking to another crow, saying:\n\n'Here comes a silly prophet, and sillier than a goose. He is walking\nwith a young man to meet a maid, and does not know that, while he is\nthere to hear, the maid will not say a word that is in her heart. Go\naway, foolish prophet; it is not you she cares for.'\n\nThen Mopsus smiled, and stopped where he was; but Jason went on, where\nMedea was pretending to play with the girls, her companions. When she\nsaw Jason she felt as if she could neither go forward, nor go back, and\nshe was very pale. But Jason told her not to be afraid, and asked her to\nhelp him, but for long she could not answer him; however, at the last,\nshe gave him the drug, and taught him how to use it. 'So shall you carry\nthe fleece to Iolcos, far away, but what is it to me where you go when\nyou have gone from here? Still remember the name of me, Medea, as I\nshall remember you. And may there come to me some voice, or some bird\nbearing the message, whenever you have quite forgotten me.'\n\nBut Jason answered, 'Lady, let the winds blow what voice they will, and\nwhat that bird will, let him bring. But no wind or bird shall ever bear\nthe news that I have forgotten you, if you will cross the sea with me,\nand be my wife.'\n\nThen she was glad, and yet she was afraid, at the thought of that dark\nvoyage, with a stranger, from her father's home and her own. So they\nparted, Jason to the ship, and Medea to the palace. But in the morning\nJason anointed himself and his armour with the drug, and all the heroes\nstruck at him with spears and swords, but the swords would not bite on\nhim nor on his armour. He felt so strong and light that he leaped in the\nair with joy, and the sun shone on his glittering shield. Now they all\nwent up together to the field where the bulls were breathing flame.\nThere already was Aetes, with Medea, and all the Colchians had come to\nsee Jason die. A plough had been brought to which he was to harness the\nbulls. Then he walked up to them, and they blew fire at him that flamed\nall round him, but the magic drug protected him. He took a horn of one\nbull in his right hand, and a horn of the other in his left, and dashed\ntheir heads together so mightily that they fell.\n\nWhen they rose, all trembling, he yoked them to the plough, and drove\nthem with his spear, till all the field was ploughed in straight ridges\nand furrows. Then he dipped his helmet in the river, and drank water,\nfor he was weary; and next he sowed the dragon's teeth on the right and\nleft. Then you might see spear points, and sword points, and crests of\nhelmets break up from the soil like shoots of corn, and presently the\nearth was shaken like sea waves, as armed men leaped out of the furrows,\nall furious for battle, and all rushed to slay Jason. But he, as Medea\nhad told him to do, caught up a great rock, and threw it among them, and\nhe who was struck by the rock said to his neighbour, 'You struck me;\ntake that!' and ran his spear through that man's breast, but before he\ncould draw it out another man had cleft his helmet with a stroke, and so\nit went: an hour of striking and shouting, while the sparks of fire\nsprang up from helmet and breastplate and shield. The furrows ran red\nwith blood, and wounded men crawled on hands and knees to strike or stab\nthose that were yet standing and fighting. So axes and sword and spear\nflashed and fell, till now all the men were down but one, taller and\nstronger than the rest. Round him he looked, and saw only Jason standing\nthere, and he staggered toward him, bleeding, and lifting his great axe\nabove his head. But Jason only stepped aside from the blow which would\nhave cloven him to the waist, the last blow of the Men of the Dragon's\nTeeth, for he who struck fell, and there he lay and died.\n\nThen Jason went to the king, where he sat looking darkly on, and said,\n'O King, the field is ploughed, the seed is sown, the harvest is reaped.\nGive me now the Fleece of Gold, and let me be gone.' But the king said,\n'Enough is done. To-morrow is a new day. To-morrow shall you win the\nFleece.'\n\nThen he looked sidewise at Medea, and she knew that he suspected her,\nand she was afraid.\n\nAetes went and sat brooding over his wine with the captains of his\npeople; and his mood was bitter, both for loss of the Fleece, and\nbecause Jason had won it not by his own prowess, but by the magic aid\nof Medea. As for Medea herself, it was the king's purpose to put her to\na cruel death, and this she needed not her witchery to know, and a fire\nwas in her eyes, and terrible sounds were ringing in her ears, and it\nseemed she had but two choices: to drink poison and die, or to flee with\nthe heroes in the ship 'Argo.' But at last flight seemed better than\ndeath. So she hid all her engines of witchcraft in the folds of her\ngown, and she kissed her bed where she would never sleep again, and the\nposts of the door, and she caressed the very walls with her hand in that\nlast farewell. And she cut a long lock of her yellow hair, and left it\nin the room, a keepsake to her mother dear, in memory of her maiden\ndays. 'Good-bye, my mother,' she said, 'this long lock I leave thee in\nplace of me; good-bye, a long good-bye, to me who am going on a long\njourney; good-bye, my sister Chalciope, good-bye! dear house, good-bye!'\n\nThen she stole from the house, and the bolted doors leaped open at their\nown accord at the swift spell Medea murmured. With her bare feet she ran\ndown the grassy paths, and the daisies looked black against the white\nfeet of Medea. So she sped to the temple of the goddess, and the moon\noverhead looked down on her. Many a time had she darkened the moon's\nface with her magic song, and now the Lady Moon gazed white upon her,\nand said, 'I am not, then, the only one that wanders in the night for\nlove, as I love Endymion the sleeper, who sleeps on the crest of the\nLatmian hill, and beholds me in his dreams. Many a time hast thou\ndarkened my face with thy songs, and made night black with thy\nsorceries, and now thou too art in love! So go thy way, and bid thy\nheart endure, for a sore fate is before thee!'\n\nBut Medea hastened on till she came to the high river bank, and saw the\nheroes, merry at their wine in the light of a blazing fire. Thrice she\ncalled aloud, and they heard her, and came to her, and she said, 'Save\nme, my friends, for all is known, and my death is sure. And I will give\nyou the Fleece of Gold for the price of my life.'\n\nThen Jason swore that she should be his wife, and more dear to him than\nall the world. So she went aboard their boat, and swiftly they rowed up\nstream to the dark wood where the dragon who never sleeps lay guarding\nthe Fleece of Gold. There she landed, and Jason, and Orpheus with his\nharp, and through the wood they went, but that old serpent saw them\ncoming, and hissed so loud that women wakened in Colchis town, and\nchildren cried to their mothers. But Orpheus struck softly on his harp,\nand he sang a hymn to Sleep, bidding him come and cast a slumber on the\ndragon's wakeful eyes. This was the song he sang:\n\n  Sleep! King of Gods and men!\n  Come to my call again,\n  Swift over field and fen,\n      Mountain and deep;\n  Come, bid the waves be still;\n  Sleep, streams on height and hill;\n  Beasts, birds, and snakes, thy will\n      Conquereth, Sleep!\n  Come on thy golden wings,\n  Come ere the swallow sings,\n  Lulling all living things,\n      Fly they or creep!\n  Come with thy leaden wand,\n  Come with thy kindly hand,\n  Soothing on sea or land\n      Mortals that weep.\n  Come from the cloudy west,\n  Soft over brain and breast,\n  Bidding the Dragon rest,\n      Come to me, Sleep!\n\nThis was Orpheus's song, and he sang so sweetly that the bright, small\neyes of the dragon closed, and all his hard coils softened and uncurled.\nThen Jason set his foot on the dragon's neck and hewed off his head, and\nlifted down the Golden Fleece from the sacred oak tree, and it shone\nlike a golden cloud at dawn. He waited not to wonder at it, but he and\nMedea and Orpheus hurried through the wet wood-paths to the ship, and\nthrew it on board, cast a cloak over it, and bade the heroes sit down to\nthe oars, half of them, but the others to take their shields and stand\neach beside the oarsmen, to guard them from the arrows of the Colchians.\nThen he cut the stern cables with his sword, and softly they rowed,\nunder the bank, down the dark river to the sea. But the hissing of the\ndragon had already awakened the Colchians, and lights were flitting by\nthe palace windows, and Aetes was driving in his chariot with all his\nmen down to the banks of the river. Then their arrows fell like hail\nabout the ship, but they rebounded from the shields of the heroes, and\nthe swift ship sped over the bar, and leaped as she felt the first waves\nof the salt sea.\n\n[Illustration: HOW THE SERPENT THAT GUARDED THE GOLDEN FLEECE WAS\nSLAIN.]\n\nAnd now the Fleece was won. But it was weary work bringing it home to\nGreece, and Medea and Jason did a deed which angered the gods. They slew\nher brother Absyrtus, who followed after them with a fleet, and cut him\nlimb from limb, and when Aetes came with his ships, and saw the dead\nlimbs, he stopped, and went home, for his heart was broken. The gods\nwould not let the Greeks return by the way they had come, but by strange\nways where never another ship has sailed. Up the Ister (the Danube)\nthey rowed, through countries of savage men, till the 'Argo' could go no\nfarther, by reason of the narrowness of the stream. Then they hauled her\noverland, where no man knows, but they launched her on the Elbe at last,\nand out into a sea where never sail had been seen. Then they were driven\nwandering out into Ocean, and to a fairy, far-off isle where Lady Circe\ndwelt. Circe was the sister of King Aetes, both were children of the Sun\nGod, and Medea hoped that Circe would be kind to her, as she could not\nhave heard of the slaying of Absyrtus. Medea and Jason went up through\nthe woods of the isle to the house of Circe, and had no fear of the\nlions and wolves and bears that guarded the house. These knew that Medea\nwas an enchantress, and they fawned on her and Jason and let them pass.\nBut in the house they found Circe clad in dark mourning raiment, and all\nher long black hair fell wet and dripping to her feet, for she had seen\nvisions of terror and sin, and therefore she had purified herself in\nsalt water of the sea. The walls of her chamber, in the night, had shone\nas with fire, and dripped as with blood, and a voice of wailing had\nbroken forth, and the spirit of dead Absyrtus had cried in her ears.\n\nWhen Medea and Jason entered her hall, Circe bade them sit down, and\ncalled her bower maidens, fairies of woods and waters, to strew a table\nwith a cloth of gold, and set on it food and wine. But Jason and Medea\nran to the hearth, the sacred place of the house to which men that have\ndone murder flee, and there they are safe, when they come in their\nflight to the house of a stranger. They cast ashes from the hearth on\ntheir heads, and Circe knew that they had slain Absyrtus. Yet she was of\nMedea's near kindred, and she respected the law of the hearth.\nTherefore she did the rite of purification, as was the custom, cleansing\nblood with blood, and she burned in the fire a cake of honey, and meal,\nand oil, to appease the Furies who revenge the deaths of kinsmen by the\nhands of kinsmen.\n\nWhen all was done, Jason and Medea rose from their knees, and sat down\non chairs in the hall, and Medea told Circe all her tale, except the\nslaying of Absyrtus.\n\n'More and worse than you tell me you have done,' said Circe, 'but you\nare my brother's daughter.'\n\nThen she advised them of all the dangers of their way home to Greece,\nhow they must shun the Sirens, and Scylla and Charybdis, and she sent a\nmessenger, Iris, the goddess of the Rainbow, to bid Thetis help them\nthrough the perils of the sea, and bring them safe to Phaeacia, where the\nPhaeacians would send them home.\n\n'But you shall never be happy, nor know one good year in all your\nlives,' said Circe, and she bade them farewell.\n\nThey went by the way that Ulysses went on a later day; they passed\nthrough many perils, and came to Iolcos, where Pelias was old, and made\nJason reign in his stead.\n\nBut Jason and Medea loved each other no longer, and many stories, all\ndifferent from each other, are told concerning evil deeds that they\nwrought, and certainly they left each other, and Jason took another\nwife, and Medea went to Athens. Here she lived in the palace of Aegeus,\nan unhappy king who had been untrue to his own true love, and therefore\nthe gods took from him courage and strength. But about Medea at Athens\nthe story is told in the next tale, the tale of Theseus, Aegeus's son.\n\n\n\n\nTHESEUS\n\n\n\n\nI\n\nTHE WEDDING OF AETHRA\n\n\nLong before Ulysses was born, there lived in Athens a young king,\nstrong, brave, and beautiful, named Aegeus. Athens, which later became\nso great and famous, was then but a little town, perched on the top of a\ncliff which rises out of the plain, two or three miles from the sea. No\ndoubt the place was chosen so as to be safe against pirates, who then\nused to roam all about the seas, plundering merchant ships, robbing\ncities, and carrying away men, women, and children, to sell as slaves.\nThe Athenians had then no fleet with which to put the pirates down, and\npossessed not so much land as would make a large estate in England:\nother little free towns held the rest of the surrounding country.\n\nKing Aegeus was young, and desired to take a wife, indeed a wife had been\nfound for him. But he wanted to be certain, if he could, that he was to\nhave sons to succeed him: so many misfortunes happen to kings who have\nno children. But how was he to find out whether he should have children\nor not? At that time, and always in Greece before it was converted to\nChristianity, there were temples of the gods in various places, at which\nit was supposed that men might receive answers to their questions.\nThese temples were called oracles, or places where oracles were given,\nand the most famous of them was the temple of Apollo at Pytho, or\nDelphi, far to the north-west of Athens. Here was a deep ravine of a\nsteep mountain, where the god Apollo was said to have shot a monstrous\ndragon with his arrows. He then ordered that a temple should be built\nhere, and in this temple a maiden, being inspired by the god, gave her\nprophecies. The people who came to consult her made the richest presents\nto the priests, and the temple was full of cups and bowls of gold and\nsilver, and held more wealth in its chambers than the treasure houses of\nthe richest kings.\n\nAegeus determined to go to Delphi to ask his question: would he have sons\nto come after him? He did not tell his people where he was going; he\nleft the kingdom to be governed by his brother Pallas, and he set out\nsecretly at night, taking no servant. He did not wear royal dress, and\nhe drove his own chariot, carrying for his offering only a small cup of\nsilver, for he did not wish it to be known that he was a king, and told\nthe priests that he was a follower of Peleus, King of Phthia. In answer\nto his question, the maiden sang two lines of verse, for she always\nprophesied in verse. Her reply was difficult to understand, as oracles\noften were, for the maiden seldom spoke out clearly, but in a kind of\nriddle that might be understood in more ways than one; so that, whatever\nhappened, she could not be proved to have made a mistake.\n\nAegeus was quite puzzled by the answer he got. He did not return to\nAthens, but went to consult the prince of Troezene, named Pittheus, who\nwas thought the wisest man then living. Pittheus did not know who Aegeus\nwas, but saw that he seemed of noble birth, tall and handsome, so he\nreceived him very kindly, and kept him in his house for some time,\nentertaining him with feasts, dances, and hunting parties. Now Pittheus\nhad a very lovely daughter, named Aethra. She and Aegeus fell in love\nwith each other, so deeply that they desired to be married. It was the\ncustom that the bridegroom should pay a price, a number of cattle, to the\nfather of the bride, and Aegeus, of course, had no cattle to give. But it\nwas also the custom, if the lover did some very brave and useful action,\nto reward him with the hand of his lady, and Aegeus had his opportunity.\nA fleet of pirates landed at Troezene and attacked the town, but Aegeus\nfought so bravely and led the men of Pittheus so well, that he not only\nslew the pirate chief, and defeated his men, but also captured some of\nhis ships, which were full of plunder, gold, and bronze, and iron, and\nslaves. With this wealth Aegeus paid the bride price, as it was called,\nfor Aethra, and they were married. Pittheus thought himself a lucky man,\nfor he had no son, and here was a son-in-law who could protect his\nlittle kingdom, and wear the crown when he himself was dead.\n\nThough Pittheus was believed to be very wise, in this matter he was very\nfoolish. He never knew who Aegeus really was, that is the king of Athens,\nnor did poor Aethra know. In a short time Aegeus wearied of beautiful\nAethra, who continued to love him dearly. He was anxious also to return\nto his kingdom, for he heard that his brother Pallas and his many sons\nwere governing badly; and he feared that Pallas might keep the crown for\nhimself, so he began to speak mysteriously to Aethra, talking about a\nlong and dangerous journey which he was obliged to make, for secret\nreasons, and from which he might never return alive. Aethra wept\nbitterly, and sometimes thought, as people did in these days, that the\nbeautiful stranger might be no man, but a god, and that he might return\nto Olympus, the home of the gods, and forget her; for the gods never\ntarried long with the mortal women who loved them.\n\nAt last Aegeus took Aethra to a lonely glen in the woods, where, beside\na little mountain stream, lay a great moss-grown boulder that an\nearthquake, long ago, had shaken from the rocky cliff above. 'The time\nis coming,' said Aegeus 'when you and I must part, and only the gods can\ntell when we shall meet again! It may be that you will bear a child,\nand, if he be a boy, when he has come to his strength you must lead him\nto this great stone, and let no man or woman be there but you two only.\nYou must then bid him roll away the stone, and, if he has no strength to\nraise it, so must it be. But if he can roll it away, then let him take\nsuch things as he finds there, and let him consider them well, and do\nwhat the gods put into his heart.'\n\nThus Aegeus spoke, and on the dawn of the third night after this day,\nwhen Aethra awoke from sleep, she did not find him by her side. She\narose, and ran through the house, calling his name, but there came no\nanswer, and from that time Aegeus was never seen again in Troezene, and\npeople marvelled, thinking that he, who came whence no man knew, and was\nso brave and beautiful, must be one of the immortal gods. 'Who but a\ngod,' they said, 'would leave for no cause a bride, the flower of Greece\nfor beauty, young, and loving; and a kingdom to which he was not born?\nTruly he must be Apollo of the silver bow, or Hermes of the golden\nwand.'\n\nSo they spoke among each other, and honoured Aethra greatly, but she\npined and drooped with sorrow, like a tall lily flower, that the frost\nhas touched in a rich man's garden.\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nTHE BOYHOOD OF THESEUS\n\n\nTime went by, and Aethra had a baby, a son. This was her only comfort,\nand she thought that she saw in him a likeness to his father, whose true\nname she did not know. Certainly he was a very beautiful baby, well\nformed and strong, and, as soon as he could walk he was apt to quarrel\nwith other children of his own age, and fight with them in a harmless\nway. He never was an amiable child, though he was always gentle to his\nmother. From the first he was afraid of nothing, and when he was about\nfour or five he used to frighten his mother by wandering from home, with\nhis little bow and arrows, and staying by himself in the woods. However,\nhe always found his own way back again, sometimes with a bird or a snake\nthat he had shot, and once dragging the body of a fawn that was nearly\nas heavy as himself. Thus his mother, from his early boyhood, had many\nfears for him, that he might be killed by some fierce wild boar in the\nwoods, for he would certainly shoot at whatever beast he met; or that he\nmight kill some other boy in a quarrel, when he would be obliged to\nleave the country. The other boys, however, soon learned not to quarrel\nwith Theseus (so Aethra had named her son), for he was quick of temper,\nand heavy of hand, and, as for the wild beasts, he was cool as well as\neager, and seemed to have an untaught knowledge of how to deal with\nthem.\n\nAethra was therefore very proud of her son, and began to hope that when\nhe was older he would be able to roll away the great stone in the glen.\nShe told him nothing about it when he was little, but, in her walks with\nhim in the woods or on the sea shore, she would ask him to try his\nforce in lifting large stones. When he succeeded she kissed and praised\nhim, and told him stories of the famous strong man, Heracles, whose name\nwas well known through all Greece. Theseus could not bear to be beaten\nat lifting any weight, and, if he failed, he would rise early and try\nagain in the morning, for many men, as soon as they rise from bed, can\nlift weights which are too heavy for them later in the day.\n\nWhen Theseus was seven years old, Aethra found for him a tutor, named\nConnidas, who taught him the arts of netting beasts and hunting, and how\nto manage the dogs, and how to drive a chariot, and wield sword and\nshield, and to throw the spear. Other things Connidas taught him which\nwere known to few men in Greece, for Connidas came from the great rich\nisland of Crete. He had killed a man there in a quarrel, and fled to\nTroezene to escape the revenge of the man's brothers and cousins. In\nCrete many people could read and write, which in Greece, perhaps none\ncould do, and Connidas taught Theseus this learning.\n\nWhen he was fifteen years old, Theseus went, as was the custom of young\nprinces, to the temple of Delphi, not to ask questions, but to cut his\nlong hair, and sacrifice it to the god, Apollo. He cut the forelock of\nhis hair, so that no enemy, in battle, might take hold of it, for\nTheseus intended to fight at close quarters, hand to hand, in war, not\nto shoot arrows and throw spears from a distance. By this time he\nthought himself a man, and was always asking where his father was, while\nAethra told him how her husband had left her soon after their marriage,\nand that she had never heard of him since, but that some day Theseus\nmight find out all about him for himself, which no other person would\never be able to do.\n\nAethra did not wish to tell Theseus too soon the secret of the great\nstone, which hid she knew not what. She saw that he would leave her and\ngo to seek his father, if he was able to raise the stone and find out\nthe secret, and she could not bear to lose him, now that day by day he\ngrew more like his father, her lost lover. Besides, she wanted him not\nto try to raise the stone till he came to his strength. But when he was\nin his nineteenth year, he told her that he would now go all over Greece\nand the whole world seeking for his father. She saw that he meant what\nhe said, and one day she led him alone to the glen where the great stone\nlay, and sat down with him there, now talking, and now silent as if she\nwere listening to the pleasant song of the burn that fell from a height\ninto a clear deep pool. Really she was listening to make sure that no\nhunter and no lovers were near them in the wood, but she only heard the\nsongs of the water and the birds, no voices, or cry of hounds, or fallen\ntwig cracking under a footstep.\n\nAt last, when she was quite certain that nobody was near, she whispered,\nand told Theseus how her husband, before he disappeared, had taken her\nto this place, and shown her the great moss-grown boulder, and said\nthat, when his son could lift that stone away, he would find certain\ntokens, and that he must then do what the gods put into his heart.\nTheseus listened eagerly, and said, 'If my father lifted that stone, and\nplaced under it certain tokens, I also can lift it, perhaps not yet, but\nsome day I shall be as strong a man as my father.' Then he set himself\nto move the stone, gradually putting out all his force, but it seemed\nrooted in the earth, though he tried it now on one side and now on\nanother. At last he flung himself at his mother's feet, with his head in\nthe grass, and lay without speaking. His breath came hard and quick,\nand his hands were bleeding. Aethra laid her hand on his long hair, and\nwas silent. 'I shall not lose my boy this year,' she thought.\n\nThey were long in that lonely place, but at last Theseus rose, and\nkissed his mother, and stretched his arms. 'Not to-day!' he said, but\nhis mother thought in her heart, 'Not for many a day, I hope!' Then they\nwalked home to the house of Pittheus, saying little, and when they had\ntaken supper, Theseus said that he would go to bed and dream of better\nfortune. So he arose, and went to his own chamber, which was built apart\nin the court of the palace, and soon Aethra too went to sleep, not\nunhappy, for her boy, she thought, would not leave her for a long time.\n\nBut in the night Theseus arose, and put on his shoes, and his smock, and\na great double mantle. He girt on his sword of bronze, and went into the\nhousekeeper's chamber, where he took a small skin of wine, and some\nfood. These he placed in a wallet which he slung round his neck by a\ncord, and, lastly he stole out of the court, and walked to the lonely\nglen, and to the pool in the burn near which the great stone lay. Here\nhe folded his purple mantle of fine wool round him, and lay down to\nsleep in the grass, with his sword lying near his hand.\n\nWhen he awoke the clear blue morning light was round him, and all the\nbirds were singing their song to the dawn. Theseus arose, threw off his\nmantle and smock, and plunged into the cold pool of the burn, and then\nhe drank a little of the wine, and ate of the bread and cold meat, and\nset himself to move the stone. At the first effort, into which he put\nall his strength, the stone stirred. With the second he felt it rise a\nlittle way from the ground, and then he lifted with all the might in\nhis heart and body, and rolled the stone clean over.\n\n[Illustration: THESEUS TRIES TO LIFT THE STONE.]\n\nBeneath it there was nothing but the fresh turned soil, but in a hollow\nof the foot of the rock, which now lay upper-most, there was a wrapping\nof purple woollen cloth, that covered something. Theseus tore out the\npacket, unwrapped the cloth, and found within it a wrapping of white\nlinen. This wrapping was in many folds, which he undid, and at last he\nfound a pair of shoon, such as kings wear, adorned with gold, and also\nthe most beautiful sword that he had ever seen. The handle was of clear\nrock crystal, and through the crystal you could see gold, inlaid with\npictures of a lion hunt done in different shades of gold and silver. The\nsheath was of leather, with patterns in gold nails, and the blade was of\nbronze, a beautiful pattern ran down the centre to the point, the blade\nwas straight, and double edged, supple, sharp, and strong. Never had\nTheseus seen so beautiful a sword, nor one so well balanced in his hand.\n\nHe saw that this was a king's sword; and he thought that it had not been\nwrought in Greece, for in Greece was no sword-smith that could do such\nwork. Examining it very carefully he found characters engraved beneath\nthe hilt, not letters such as the Greeks used in later times, but such\nCretan signs as Connidas had taught him to read, for many a weary hour,\nwhen he would like to have been following the deer in the forest.\n\nTheseus pored over these signs till he read:\n\n  Icmalius me made. Of Aegeus of Athens am I.\n\nNow he knew the secret. His father was Aegeus, the king of Athens.\nTheseus had heard of him and knew that he yet lived, a sad life full of\ntrouble. For Aegeus had no child by his Athenian wife, and the fifty\nsons of his brother, Pallas (who were called the Pallantidae) despised\nhim, and feasted all day in his hall, recklessly and fiercely, robbing\nthe people, and Aegeus had no power in his own kingdom.\n\n'Methinks that my father has need of me!' said Theseus to himself. Then\nhe wrapped up the sword and shoon in the linen and the cloth of wool,\nand walked home in the early morning to the palace of Pittheus.\n\nWhen Theseus came to the palace, he went straight to the upper chamber\nof his mother, where she was spinning wool with a distaff of ivory. When\nhe laid before her the sword and the shoon, the distaff fell from her\nhand, and she hid her head in a fold of her robe. Theseus kissed her\nhands and comforted her, and she dried her eyes, and praised him for his\nstrength. 'These are the sword and the shoon of your father,' she said,\n'but truly the gods have taken away his strength and courage. For all\nmen say that Aegeus of Athens is not master in his own house; his\nbrother's sons rule him, and with them Medea, the witch woman, that once\nwas the wife of Jason.'\n\n'The more he needs his son!' said Theseus. 'Mother, I must go to help\nhim, and be the heir of his kingdom, where you shall be with me always,\nand rule the people of Cecrops that fasten the locks of their hair with\ngrasshoppers of gold.'\n\n'So may it be, my child,' said Aethra, 'if the gods go with you to\nprotect you. But you will sail to Athens in a ship with fifty oarsmen,\nfor the ways by land are long, and steep, and dangerous, beset by cruel\ngiants and monstrous men.'\n\n'Nay, mother,' said Theseus, 'by land must I go, for I would not be\nknown in Athens, till I see how matters fall out; and I would destroy\nthese giants and robbers, and give peace to the people, and win glory\namong men. This very night I shall set forth.'\n\nHe had a sore and sad parting from his mother, but under cloud of night\nhe went on his way, girt with the sword of Aegeus, his father, and\ncarrying in his wallet the shoon with ornaments of gold.\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nADVENTURES OF THESEUS\n\n\nTheseus walked through the night, and slept for most of the next day at\na shepherd's hut. The shepherd was kind to him, and bade him beware of\none called the Maceman, who guarded a narrow path with a sheer cliff\nabove, and a sheer precipice below. 'No man born may deal with the\nMaceman,' said the shepherd, 'for his great club is of iron, that cannot\nbe broken, and his strength is as the strength of ten men, though his\nlegs have no force to bear his body. Men say that he is the son of the\nlame god, Hephaestus, who forged his iron mace; there is not the like of\nit in the world.'\n\n'Shall I fear a lame man?' said Theseus, 'and is it not easy, even if he\nbe so terrible a fighter, for me to pass him in the darkness, for I walk\nby night?'\n\nThe shepherd shook his head. 'Few men have passed Periphetes the\nMaceman,' said he, 'and wiser are they who trust to swift ships than to\nthe upland path.'\n\n'You speak kindly, father,' said Theseus, 'but I am minded to make the\nupland paths safe for all men.'\n\nSo they parted, and Theseus walked through the sunset and the dusk,\nalways on a rising path, and the further he went the harder it was to\nsee the way, for the path was overgrown with grass, and the shadows were\ndeepening. Night fell, and Theseus hardly dared to go further, for on\nhis left hand was a wall of rock, and on his right hand a cliff sinking\nsheer and steep to the sea. But now he saw a light in front of him, a\nred light flickering, as from a great fire, and he could not be content\ntill he knew why that fire was lighted. So he went on, slowly and\nwarily, till he came in full view of the fire which covered the whole of\na little platform of rock; on one side the blaze shone up the wall of\ncliff on his left hand, on the other was the steep fall to the sea. In\nfront of this fire was a great black bulk; Theseus knew not what it\nmight be. He walked forward till he saw that the black bulk was that of\na monstrous man, who sat with his back to the fire. The man nodded his\nheavy head, thick with red unshorn hair, and Theseus went up close to\nhim.\n\n'Ho, sir,' he cried, 'this is my road, and on my road I must pass!'\n\nThe seated man opened his eyes sleepily.\n\n'Not without my leave,' he said, 'for I keep this way, I and my club of\niron.'\n\n'Get up and begone!' said Theseus.\n\n'That were hard for me to do,' said the monstrous man, 'for my legs will\nnot bear the weight of my body, but my arms are strong enough.'\n\n'That is to be seen!' said Theseus, and he drew his sword, and leaped\nwithin the guard of the iron club that the monster, seated as he was,\nswung lightly to this side and that, covering the whole width of the\npath. The Maceman swung the club at Theseus, but Theseus sprang aside,\nand in a moment, before the monster could recover his stroke, drove\nthrough his throat the sword of Aegeus, and he fell back dead.\n\n'He shall have his rights of fire, that his shadow may not wander\noutside the House of Hades,' said Theseus to himself, and he toppled the\nbody of the Maceman into his own great fire. Then he went back some way,\nand wrapping himself in his mantle, he slept till the sun was high in\nheaven, while the fire had sunk into its embers, and Theseus lightly\nsprang over them, carrying with him the Maceman's iron club. The path\nnow led downwards, and a burn that ran through a green forest kept him\ncompany on the way, and brought him to pleasant farms and houses of men.\n\nThey marvelled to see him, a young man, carrying the club of the\nMaceman. 'Did you find him asleep?' they asked, and Theseus smiled and\nsaid, 'No, I found him awake. But now he sleeps an iron sleep, from\nwhich he will never waken, and his body had due burning in his own\nwatchfire.' Then the men and women praised Theseus, and wove for him a\ncrown of leaves and flowers, and sacrificed sheep to the gods in heaven,\nand on the meat they dined, rejoicing that now they could go to Troezene\nby the hill path, for they did not love ships and the sea.\n\nWhen they had eaten and drunk, and poured out the last cup of wine on\nthe ground, in honour of Hermes, the God of Luck, the country people\nasked Theseus where he was going? He said that he was going to walk to\nAthens, and at this the people looked sad. 'No man may walk across the\nneck of land where Ephyre is built,' they said, 'because above it Sinis\nthe Pine-Bender has his castle, and watches the way.'\n\n'And who is Sinis, and why does he bend pine trees?' asked Theseus.\n\n'He is the strongest of men, and when he catches a traveller, he binds\nhim hand and foot, and sets him between two pine trees. Then he bends\nthem down till they meet, and fastens the traveller to the boughs of\neach tree, and lets them spring apart, so that the man is riven\nasunder.'\n\n'Two can play at that game,' said Theseus, smiling, and he bade farewell\nto the kind country people, shouldered the iron club of Periphetes, and\nwent singing on his way. The path led him over moors, and past\nfarm-houses, and at last rose towards the crest of the hill whence he\nwould see the place where two seas would have met, had they not been\nsundered by the neck of land which is now called the Isthmus of Corinth.\nHere the path was very narrow, with thick forests of pine trees on each\nhand, and 'here,' thought Theseus to himself, 'I am likely to meet the\nPine-Bender.'\n\nSoon he knew that he was right, for he saw the ghastly remains of dead\nmen that the pine trees bore like horrible fruit, and presently the air\nwas darkened overhead by the waving of vultures and ravens that prey\nupon the dead. 'I shall fight the better in the shade,' said Theseus,\nand he loosened the blade of the sword in its sheath, and raised the\nclub of Periphetes aloft in his hand.\n\nWell it was for him that he raised the iron club, for, just as he lifted\nit, there flew out from the thicket something long, and slim, and black,\nthat fluttered above his head for a moment, and then a loop at the end\nof it fell round the head of Theseus, and was drawn tight with a sudden\njerk. But the loop fell also above and round the club, which Theseus\nheld firm, pushing away the loop, and so pushed it off that it did not\ngrip his neck. Drawing with his left hand his bronze dagger, he cut\nthrough the leather lasso with one stroke, and bounded into the bushes\nfrom which it had flown. Here he found a huge man, clad in the skin of a\nlion, with its head fitting to his own like a mask. The man lifted a\nclub made of the trunk of a young pine tree, with a sharp-edged stone\nfastened into the head of it like an axe-head. But, as the monster\nraised his long weapon it struck on a strong branch of a tree above him,\nand was entangled in the boughs, so that Theseus had time to thrust the\nhead of the iron club full in his face, with all his force, and the\nsavage fell with a crash like a falling oak among the bracken. He was\none of the last of an ancient race of savage men, who dwelt in Greece\nbefore the Greeks, and he fought as they had fought, with weapons of\nwood and stone.\n\nTheseus dropped with his knees on the breast of the Pine-Bender, and\ngrasped his hairy throat with both his hands, not to strangle him, but\nto hold him sure and firm till he came to himself again. When at last\nthe monster opened his eyes, Theseus gripped his throat the harder, and\nspoke, 'Pine-Bender, for thee shall pines be bent. But I am a man and\nnot a monster, and thou shalt die a clean death before thy body is torn\nin twain to be the last feast of thy vultures.' Then, squeezing the\nthroat of the wretch with his left hand, he drew the sword of Aegeus, and\ndrove it into the heart of Sinis the Pine-Bender, and he gave a cry like\na bull's, and his soul fled from him. Then Theseus bound the body of the\nsavage with his own leather cord, and, bending down the tops of two pine\ntrees, he did to the corpse as Sinis had been wont to do to living men.\n\nLastly he cleaned the sword-blade carefully, wiping it with grass and\nbracken, and thrusting it to the hilt through the soft fresh ground\nunder the trees, and so went on his way till he came to a little stream\nthat ran towards the sea from the crest of the hill above the town of\nEphyre, which is now called Corinth. But as he cleansed himself in the\nclear water, he heard a rustle in the boughs of the wood, and running\nwith sword drawn to the place whence the sound seemed to come, he heard\nthe whisper of a woman. Then he saw a strange sight. A tall and very\nbeautiful girl was kneeling in a thicket, in a patch of asparagus thorn,\nand was weeping, and praying, in a low voice, and in a childlike\ninnocent manner, to the thorns, begging them to shelter and defend her.\n\nTheseus wondered at her, and, sheathing his sword, came softly up to\nher, and bade her have no fear. Then she threw her arms about his knees,\nand raised her face, all wet with tears, and bade him take pity upon\nher, for she had done no harm.\n\n'Who are you, maiden? You are safe with me,' said Theseus. 'Do you dread\nthe Pine-Bender?'\n\n'Alas, sir,' answered the girl, 'I am his daughter, Perigyne, and his\nblood is on your hands.'\n\n'Yet I do not war with women,' said Theseus, 'though that has been done\nwhich was decreed by the gods. If you follow with me, you shall be\nkindly used, and marry, if you will, a man of a good house, being so\nbeautiful as you are.'\n\nWhen she heard this, the maiden rose to her feet, and would have put her\nhand in his. 'Not yet,' said Theseus, kindly, 'till water has clean\nwashed away that which is between thee and me. But wherefore, maiden,\nbeing in fear as you were, did you not call to the gods in heaven to\nkeep you, but to the asparagus thorns that cannot hear or help?'\n\n'My father, sir,' she said, 'knew no gods, but he came of the race of\nthe asparagus thorns, and to them I cried in my need.'\n\nTheseus marvelled at these words, and said, 'From this day you shall\npray to Zeus, the Lord of Thunder, and to the other gods.' Then he went\nforth from the wood, with the maiden following, and wholly cleansed\nhimself in the brook that ran by the way.\n\nSo they passed down to the rich city of Ephyre, where the king received\nhim gladly, when he heard of the slaying of the Maceman, Periphetes, and\nof Sinis the Pine-Bender. The Queen, too, had pity on Perigyne, so\nbeautiful she was, and kept her in her own palace. Afterwards Perigyne\nmarried a prince, Deiones, son of Eurytus, King of Oechalia, whom the\nstrong man Heracles slew for the sake of his bow, the very bow with\nwhich Ulysses, many years afterwards, destroyed the Wooers in his halls.\nThe sons of Perigyne and Deiones later crossed the seas to Asia, and\nsettled in a land called Caria, and they never burned or harmed the\nasparagus thorn to which Perigyne had prayed in the thicket.\n\nGreece was so lawless in these days that all the road from Troezene\nnorthward to Athens was beset by violent and lawless men. They loved\ncruelty even more than robbery, and each of them had carefully thought\nout his particular style of being cruel. The cities were small, and at\nwar with each other, or at war among themselves, one family fighting\nagainst another for the crown. Thus there was no chance of collecting an\narmy to destroy the monstrous men of the roads, which it would have been\neasy enough for a small body of archers to have done. Later Theseus\nbrought all into great order, but now, being but one man, he went\nseeking adventures.\n\nOn the border of a small country called Megara, whose people were much\ndespised in Greece, he found a chance of advancing himself, and gaining\nglory. He was walking in the middle of the day along a narrow path at\nthe crest of a cliff above the sea, when he saw the flickering of a\ngreat fire in the blue air, and steam going up from a bronze caldron of\nwater that was set on the fire. On one side of the fire was a foot-bath\nof glittering bronze. Hard by was built a bower of green branches, very\ncool on that hot day, and from the door of the bower stretched a great\nthick hairy pair of naked legs.\n\nTheseus guessed, from what he had been told, that the owner of the legs\nwas Sciron the Kicker. He was a fierce outlaw who was called the Kicker\nbecause he made all travellers wash his feet, and, as they were doing\nso, kicked them over the cliff. Some say that at the foot of the cliff\ndwelt an enormous tortoise, which ate the dead and dying when they fell\nnear his lair, but as tortoises do not eat flesh, generally, this may be\na mistake. Theseus was determined not to take any insolence from Sciron,\nso he shouted--\n\n'Slave, take these dirty legs of yours out of the way of a Prince.\n\n'Prince!' answered Sciron, 'if my legs are dirty, the gods are kind who\nhave sent you to wash them for me.'\n\nThen he got up, lazily, laughing and showing his ugly teeth, and stood\nin front of his bath with his heavy wooden club in his hand. He whirled\nit round his head insultingly, but Theseus was quicker than he, and\nagain, as when he slew the Pine-Bender, he did not strike, for striking\nis slow compared to thrusting, but like a flash he lunged forward and\ndrove the thick end of his iron club into the breast of Sciron. He\nstaggered, and, as he reeled, Theseus dealt him a blow across the thigh,\nand he fell. Theseus seized the club which dropped from the hand of\nSciron, and threw it over the cliff; it seemed long before the sound\ncame up from the rocks on which it struck. 'A deep drop into a stony\nway, Sciron,' said Theseus, 'now wash my feet! Stand up, and turn your\nback to me, and be ready when I tell you.' Sciron rose, slowly and\nsulkily, and stood as Theseus bade him do.\n\nNow Theseus was not wearing light shoes or sandals, like the golden\nsandals of Aegeus, which he carried in his wallet. He was wearing thick\nboots, with bronze nails in the soles, and the upper leathers were laced\nhigh up his legs, for the Greeks wore such boots when they took long\nwalks on mountain roads. As soon as Theseus had trained Sciron to stand\nin the proper position, he bade him stoop to undo the lacings of his\nboots. As Sciron stooped, Theseus gave him one tremendous kick, that\nlifted him over the edge of the cliff, and there was an end of Sciron.\n\nTheseus left the marches of Megara, and walked singing on his way, above\nthe sea, for his heart was light, and he was finding adventures to his\nheart's desire. Being so young and well trained, his foot and hand, in a\ncombat, moved as swift as lightning, and his enemies were older than he,\nand, though very strong, were heavy with full feeding, and slow to move.\nNow it is speed that wins in a fight, whether between armies or single\nmen, if strength and courage go with it.\n\nAt last the road led Theseus down from the heights to a great fertile\nplain, called the Thriasian plain, not far from Athens. There, near the\nsea, stands the famous old city of Eleusis. When Hades, the God of the\nDead, carried away beautiful Persephone, the daughter of Demeter, the\nGoddess of corn and all manner of grain, to his dark palace beside the\nstream of Ocean, it was to Eleusis that Demeter wandered. She was clad\nin mourning robes, and she sat down on a stone by the way, like a weary\nold woman. Now the three daughters of the king who then reigned in\nEleusis came by, on the way to the well, to fetch water, and when they\nsaw the old woman they set down their vessels and came round her, asking\nwhat they could do for her, who was so tired and poor. They said that\nthey had a baby brother at home, who was the favourite of them all, and\nthat he needed a nurse. Demeter was pleased with their kindness, and\nthey left their vessels for water beside her, and ran home to their\nmother. Their long golden hair danced on their shoulders as they ran,\nand they came, out of breath, to their mother the Queen, and asked her\nto take the old woman to be their brother's nurse. The Queen was kind,\ntoo, and the old woman lived in their house, till Zeus, the chief God,\nmade the God of the Dead send back Persephone, to be with her mother\nthrough spring, and summer, and early autumn, but in winter she must\nlive with her husband in the dark palace beside the river of Ocean.\n\nThen Demeter was glad, and she caused the grain to grow abundantly for\nthe people of Eleusis, and taught them ceremonies, and a kind of play in\nwhich all the story of her sorrows and joy was acted. It was also taught\nthat the souls of men do not die with the death of their bodies, any\nmore than the seed of corn dies when it is buried in the dark earth, but\nthat they live again in a world more happy and beautiful than ours.\nThese ceremonies were called the Mysteries of Eleusis, and were famous\nin all the world.\n\nTheseus might have expected to find Eleusis a holy city, peaceful and\nquiet. But he had heard, as he travelled, that in Eleusis was a strong\nbully, named Cercyon; he was one of the rough Highlanders of Arcadia,\nwho lived in the hills of the centre of Southern Greece, which is called\nPeloponnesus. He is said to have taken the kingship, and driven out the\ndescendants of the king whose daughters were kind to Demeter. The strong\nman used to force all strangers to wrestle with him, and, when he threw\nthem, for he had never been thrown, he broke their backs.\n\nKnowing this, and being himself fond of wrestling, Theseus walked\nstraight to the door of the king's house, though the men in the town\nwarned him, and the women looked at him with sad eyes. He found the gate\nof the courtyard open, with the altar of Zeus the high God smoking in\nthe middle of it, and at the threshold two servants welcomed him, and\ntook him to the polished bath, and women washed him, and anointed him\nwith oil, and clothed him in fresh raiment, as was the manner in kings'\nhouses. Then they led him into the hall, and he walked straight up to\nthe high seats between the four pillars beside the hearth, in the middle\nof the hall.\n\nThere Cercyon sat, eating and drinking, surrounded by a score of his\nclan, great, broad, red-haired men, but he himself was the broadest and\nthe most brawny. He welcomed Theseus, and caused a table to be brought,\nwith meat, and bread, and wine, and when Theseus had put away his\nhunger, began to ask him who he was and whence he came. Theseus told him\nthat he had walked from Troezene, and was on his way to the court of\nKing Peleus (the father of Achilles), in the north, for he did not want\nthe news of his coming to go before him to Athens.\n\n'You walked from Troezene?' said Cercyon. 'Did you meet or hear of the\nman who killed the Maceman and slew the Pine-Bender, and kicked Sciron\ninto the sea?'\n\n'I walk fast, but news flies faster,' said Theseus.\n\n'The news came through my second-sighted man,' said Cercyon, 'there he\nis, in the corner,' and Cercyon threw the leg bone of an ox at his\nprophet, who just managed to leap out of the way. 'He seems to have\nforeseen that the bone was coming at him,' said Cercyon, and all his\nfriends laughed loud. 'He told us this morning that a stranger was\ncoming, he who had killed the three watchers of the way. From your legs\nand shoulders, and the iron club that you carry, methinks you are that\nstranger?'\n\nTheseus smiled, and nodded upwards, which the Greeks did when they meant\n'Yes!'\n\n'Praise be to all the gods!' said Cercyon. 'It is long since a good man\ncame my way. Do they practise wrestling at Troezene?'\n\n'Now and then,' said Theseus.\n\n'Then you will try a fall with me? There is a smooth space strewn with\nsand in the courtyard.'\n\nTheseus answered that he had come hoping that the king would graciously\nhonour him by trying a fall. Then all the wild guests shouted, and out\nthey all went and made a circle round the wrestling-place, while Theseus\nand Cercyon threw down their clothes and were anointed with oil over\ntheir bodies. To it they went, each straining forward and feeling for a\ngrip, till they were locked, and then they swayed this way and that,\ntheir feet stamping the ground; and now one would yield a little, now\nthe other, while the rough guests shouted, encouraging each of them. At\nlast they rested and breathed, and now the men began to bet; seven oxen\nto three was laid on Cercyon, and taken in several places. Back to the\nwrestle they went, and Theseus found this by far the hardest of his\nadventures, for Cercyon was heavier than he, and as strong, but not so\nactive. So Theseus for long did little but resist the awful strain of\nthe arms of Cercyon, till, at last, for a moment Cercyon weakened. Then\nTheseus slipped his hip under the hip of Cercyon, and heaved him across\nand up, and threw him on the ground. He lighted in such a way that his\nneck broke, and there he lay dead.\n\n'Was it fairly done?' said Theseus.\n\n'It was fairly done!' cried the Highlanders of Arcadia; and then they\nraised such a wail for the dead that Theseus deemed it wise to put on\nhis clothes and walk out of the court; and, leaping into a chariot that\nstood empty by the gate, for the servant in the chariot feared the club\nof iron, he drove away at full speed.\n\nThough Cercyon was a cruel man and a wild, Theseus was sorry for him in\nhis heart.\n\nThe groom in the chariot tried to leap out, but Theseus gripped him\ntight. 'Do not hurry, my friend,' said Theseus, 'for I have need of you.\nI am not stealing the chariot and horses, and you shall drive them back\nafter we reach Athens.'\n\n'But, my lord,' said the groom, 'you will never reach Athens.'\n\n'Why not?' asked Theseus.\n\n'Because of the man Procrustes, who dwells in a strong castle among the\nhills on the way. He is the maimer of all mortals, and has at his\ncommand a company of archers and spearmen, pirates from the islands. He\nmeets every traveller, and speaks to him courteously, praying him to be\nhis guest, and if any refuses the archers leap out of ambush and seize\nand bind him. With them no one man can contend. He has a bed which he\nsays is a thing magical, for it is of the same length as the tallest or\nthe shortest man who sleeps in it, so that all are fitted. Now the\nmanner of it is this--there is an engine with ropes at the head of the\nbed, and a saw is fitted at the bed foot. If a man is too short, the\nropes are fastened to his hands, and are strained till he is drawn to\nthe full length of the bed. If he is too long the saw shortens him. Such\na monster is Procrustes.\n\n'Verily, my lord, King Cercyon was to-morrow to lead an army against\nhim, and the King had a new device, as you may see, by which two great\nshields are slung along the side of this chariot, to ward off the arrows\nof the men of Procrustes.'\n\n'Then you and I will wear the shields when we come near the place where\nProcrustes meets travellers by the way, and I think that to-night his\nown bed will be too long for him,' said Theseus.\n\nTo this the groom made no answer, but his body trembled.\n\nTheseus drove swiftly on till the road began to climb the lowest spur of\nMount Parnes, and then he drew rein, and put on one of the great shields\nthat covered all his body and legs, and he bade the groom do the like.\nThen he drove slowly, watching the bushes and underwood beside the way.\nSoon he saw the smoke going up from the roof of a great castle high in\nthe woods beside the road; and on the road there was a man waiting.\nTheseus, as he drove towards him, saw the glitter of armour in the\nunderwood, and the setting sun shone red on a spear-point above the\nleaves. 'Here is our man,' he said to the groom, and pulled up his\nhorses beside the stranger. He loosened his sword in the sheath, and\nleaped out of the chariot, holding the reins in his left hand, and bowed\ncourteously to the man, who was tall, weak-looking, and old, with grey\nhair and a clean-shaven face, the colour of ivory. He was clad like a\nking, in garments of dark silk, with gold bracelets, and gold rings that\nclasped the leather gaiters on his legs, and he smiled and smiled, and\nrubbed his hands, while he looked to right and left, and not at Theseus.\n\n'I am fortunate, fair sir,' said he to Theseus, 'for I love to entertain\nstrangers, with whom goes the favour and protection of Zeus. Surely\nstrangers are dear to all men, and holy! You, too, are not unlucky, for\nthe night is falling, and the ways will be dark and dangerous. You will\nsup and sleep with me, and to-night I can give you a bed that is well\nspoken of, for its nature is such that it fits all men, the short and\nthe tall, and you are of the tallest.'\n\n'To-night, fair sir,' quoth Theseus, 'your own bed will be full long for\nyou.' And, drawing the sword of Aegeus, he cut sheer through the neck of\nProcrustes at one blow, and the head of the man flew one way, and his\nbody fell another way.\n\nThen with a swing of his hand Theseus turned his shield from his front\nto his back, and leaped into the chariot. He lashed the horses forward\nwith a cry, while the groom also turned his own shield from front to\nback; and the arrows of the bowmen of Procrustes rattled on the bronze\nshields as the chariot flew along, or struck the sides and the seat of\nit. One arrow grazed the flank of a horse, and the pair broke into a\nwild gallop, while the yells of the bowmen grew faint in the distance.\nAt last the horses slackened in their pace as they climbed a hill, and\nfrom the crest of it Theseus saw the lights in the city of Aphidnae.\n\n'Now, my friend,' he said to the groom, 'the way is clear to Athens, and\non your homeward road with the horses and the chariot you shall travel\nwell guarded. By the splendour of Lady Athene's brow, I will burn that\nraven's nest of Procrustes!'\n\nSo they slept that night on safe beds at the house of the sons of\nPhytalus, who bore rule in Aphidnae. Here they were kindly welcomed, and\nthe sons of Phytalus rejoiced when they heard how Theseus had made safe\nthe ways, and slain the beasts that guarded them. 'We are your men,'\nthey said, 'we and all our people, and our spears will encircle you when\nyou make yourself King of Athens, and of all the cities in the Attic\nland.'\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nTHESEUS FINDS HIS FATHER\n\n\nNext day Theseus said farewell to the sons of Phytalus, and drove slowly\nthrough the pleasant green woods that overhung the clear river Cephisus.\nHe halted to rest his horses in a glen, and saw a very beautiful young\nman walking in a meadow on the other side of the river. In his hand he\nbore a white flower, and the root of it was black; in the other hand he\ncarried a golden wand, and his upper lip was just beginning to darken,\nhe was of the age when youth is most gracious. He came towards Theseus,\nand crossed the stream where it broke deep, and swift, and white, above\na long pool, and it seemed to Theseus that his golden shoon did not\ntouch the water.\n\n'Come, speak with me apart,' the young man said; and Theseus threw the\nreins to the groom, and went aside with the youth, watching him\nnarrowly, for he knew not what strange dangers might beset him on the\nway.\n\n'Whither art thou going, unhappy one,' said the youth, 'thou that\nknowest not the land? Behold, the sons of Pallas rule in Athens,\nfiercely and disorderly. Thy father is of no force, and in the house\nwith him is a fair witch woman from a far country. Her name is Medea,\nthe daughter of Aetes, the brother of Circe the Sorceress. She wedded\nthe famous Jason, and won for him the Fleece of Gold, and slew her own\nbrother Absyrtus. Other evils she wrought, and now she dwells with\nAegeus, who fears and loves her greatly. Take thou this herb of grace,\nand if Medea offers you a cup of wine, drop this herb in the cup, and so\nyou shall escape death. Behold, I am Hermes of the golden wand.'\n\nThen he gave to Theseus the flower, and passed into the wood, and\nTheseus saw him no more; so then Theseus knelt down, and prayed, and\nthanked the gods. The flower he placed in the breast of his garment,\nand, returning to his chariot, he took the reins, and drove to Athens,\nand up the steep narrow way to the crest of the rock where the temple of\nAthene stood and the palace of King Aegeus.\n\nTheseus drove through to the courtyard, and left his chariot at the\ngate. In the court young men were throwing spears at a mark, while\nothers sat at the house door, playing draughts, and shouting and\nbetting. They were heavy, lumpish, red-faced young men, all rather like\neach other. They looked up and stared, but said nothing. Theseus knew\nthat they were his cousins, the sons of Pallas, but as they said nothing\nto him he walked through them, iron club on shoulder, as if he did not\nsee them, and as one tall fellow stood in his way, the tall fellow spun\nround from a thrust of his shoulder. At the hall door Theseus stopped\nand shouted, and at his cry two or three servants came to him.\n\n'Look to my horses and man,' said Theseus; 'I come to see your master.'\nAnd in he went, straight up to the high chairs beside the fire in the\ncentre. The room was empty, but in a high seat sat, fallen forward and\nhalf-asleep, a man in whose grey hair was a circlet of gold and a golden\ngrasshopper. Theseus knew that it was his father, grey and still, like\nthe fallen fire on the hearth. As the king did not look up, Theseus\ntouched his shoulder, and then knelt down, and put his arms round the\nknees of the king. The king aroused himself with a start. 'Who? What\nwant you?' he said, and rubbed his red, bloodshot eyes.\n\n'A suppliant from Troezene am I, who come to your knees, oh, king, and\nbring you gifts.'\n\n'From Troezene!' said the king sleepily, as if he were trying to\nremember something.\n\n'From Aethra, your wife, your son brings your sword and your shoon,' said\nTheseus; and he laid the sword and the shoon at his father's feet.\n\nThe king rose to his feet with a great cry. 'You have come at last,' he\ncried, 'and the gods have forgiven me and heard my prayers. But gird on\nthe sword, and hide the shoon, and speak not the name of \"wife,\" for\nthere is one that hears.'\n\n'One that has heard,' said a sweet silvery voice; and from behind a\npillar came a woman, dark and pale, but very beautiful, clothed in a\nrich Eastern robe that shone and shifted from colour to colour. Lightly\nshe threw her white arms round the neck of Theseus, lightly she kissed\nhis cheeks, and a strange sweet fragrance hung about her. Then, holding\nhim apart, with her hands on his shoulders, she laughed, and\nhalf-turning to Aegeus, who had fallen back into his chair, she said:\n'My lord, did you think that you could hide anything from me?' Then she\nfixed her great eyes on the eyes of Theseus. 'We are friends?' she said,\nin her silvery voice.\n\n'Lady, I love you even as you love my father, King Aegeus,' said Theseus.\n\n'Even so much?' said the lady Medea. 'Then we must both drink to him in\nwine.' She glided to the great golden mixing-cup of wine that stood on a\ntable behind Aegeus, and with her back to Theseus she ladled wine into a\ncup of strange coloured glass. 'Pledge me and the king,' she said,\nbringing the cup to Theseus. He took it, and from his breast he drew the\nflower of black root and white blossom that Hermes had given him, and\nlaid it in the wine. Then the wine bubbled and hissed, and the cup burst\nand broke, and the wine fell on the floor, staining it as with blood.\n\nMedea laughed lightly. 'Now we are friends indeed, for the gods befriend\nyou,' she said, 'and I swear by the Water of Styx that your friends are\nmy friends, and your foes are my foes, always, to the end. The gods are\nwith you; and by the great oath of the gods I swear, which cannot be\nbroken; for I come of the kin of the gods who live for ever.'\n\nNow the father of the father of Medea was the Sun God.\n\nTheseus took both her hands. 'I also swear,' he said, 'by the splendour\nof Zeus, that your friends shall be my friends, and that your foes shall\nbe my foes, always, to the end.'\n\nThen Medea sat by the feet of Aegeus, and drew down his head to her\nshoulder, while Theseus took hold of his hand, and the king wept for\njoy. For the son he loved, and the woman whom he loved and feared, were\nfriends, and they two were stronger than the sons of Pallas.\n\nWhile they sat thus, one of the sons of Pallas--the Pallantidae they were\ncalled--slouched into the hall to see if dinner was ready. He stared,\nand slouched out again, and said to his brothers: 'The old man is\nsitting in the embraces of the foreign woman, and of the big stranger\nwith the iron club!' Then they all came together, and growled out their\nthreats and fears, kicking at the stones in the courtyard, and\nquarrelling as to what it was best for them to do.\n\nMeanwhile, in the hall, the servants began to spread the tables with\nmeat and drink, and Theseus was taken to the bath, and clothed in new\nraiment.\n\nWhile Theseus was at the bath Medea told Aegeus what he ought to do. So\nwhen Theseus came back into the hall, where the sons of Pallas were\neating and drinking noisily, Aegeus stood up, and called to Theseus to\nsit down at his right hand. He added, in a loud voice, looking all round\nthe hall: 'This is my son, Theseus, the slayer of monsters, and his is\nthe power in the house!'\n\nThe sons of Pallas grew pale with fear and anger, but not one dared to\nmake an insolent answer. They knew that they were hated by the people\nof Athens, except some young men of their own sort, and they did not\ndare to do anything against the man who had slain Periphetes and Sinis,\nand Cercyon, and Sciron, and, in the midst of his paid soldiers, had\nstruck off the head of Procrustes. Silent all through dinner sat the\nsons of Pallas, and, when they had eaten, they walked out silently, and\nwent to a lonely place, where they could make their plans without being\noverheard.\n\nTheseus went with Medea into her fragrant chamber, and they spake a few\nwords together. Then Medea took a silver bowl, filled it with water,\nand, drawing her dark silken mantle over her head, she sat gazing into\nthe bowl. When she had gazed silently for a long time she said: 'Some of\nthem are going towards Sphettus, where their father dwells, to summon\nhis men in arms, and some are going to Gargettus on the other side of\nthe city, to lie in ambush, and cut us off when they of Sphettus assail\nus. They will attack the palace just before the dawn. Now I will go\nthrough the town, and secretly call the trusty men to arm and come to\ndefend the palace, telling them that the son of Aegeus, the man who\ncleared the ways, is with us. And do you take your chariot, and drive\nspeedily to the sons of Phytalus, and bring all their spears, chariot\nmen and foot men, and place them in ambush around the village of\nGargettus, where one band of the Pallantidae will lie to-night till dawn.\nThe rest you know.'\n\nTheseus nodded and smiled. He drove at full speed to Aphidnae, where the\nsons of Phytalus armed their men, and by midnight they lay hidden in the\nwoods round the village of Gargettus. When the stars had gone onward,\nand the second of the three watches of the night was nearly past, they\nset bands of men to guard every way from the little town, and Theseus\nwith another band rushed in, and slew the men of the sons of Pallas\naround their fires, some of them awake, but most of them asleep. Those\nwho escaped were taken by the bands who watched the ways, and when the\nsky was now clear at the earliest dawn, Theseus led his companions to\nthe palace of Aegeus, where they fell furiously upon the rear of the men\nfrom Sphettus, who were besieging the palace of Aegeus.\n\nThe Sphettus company had broken in the gate of the court, and were\ntrying to burn the house, while arrows flew thick from the bows of the\ntrusty men of Athens on the palace roof. The Pallantids had set no\nsentinels, for they thought to take Theseus in the palace, and there to\nburn him, and win the kingdom for themselves. Then silently and suddenly\nthe friends of Theseus stole into the courtyard, and, leaving some to\nguard the gate, they drew up in line, and charged the confused crowd of\nthe Pallantids. Their spears flew thick among the enemy, and then they\ncharged with the sword, while the crowd, in terror, ran this way and\nthat way, being cut down at the gate, and dragged from the walls, when\nthey tried to climb them. The daylight found the Pallantidae and their\nmen lying dead in the courtyard, all the sort of them.\n\nThen Theseus with the sons of Phytalus and their company marched through\nthe town, proclaiming that the rightful prince was come, and that the\nrobbers and oppressors were fallen, and all honest men rejoiced. They\nburned the dead, and buried their ashes and bones, and for the rest of\nthat day they feasted in the hall of Aegeus. Next day Theseus led his\nfriends back to Aphidnae, and on the next day they attacked and stormed\nthe castle of Procrustes, and slew the pirates, and Theseus divided all\nthe rich plunder among the sons of Phytalus and their company, but the\nevil bed they burned to ashes.\n\n\n\n\nV\n\nHERALDS COME FOR TRIBUTE\n\n\nThe days and weeks went by, and Theseus reigned with his father in\npeace. The chief men came to Athens from the little towns in the\ncountry, and begged Theseus to be their lord, and they would be his men,\nand he would lead their people if any enemy came up against them. They\nwould even pay tribute to be used for buying better arms, and making\nstrong walls, and providing ships, for then the people of Athens had no\nnavy. Theseus received them courteously, and promised all that they\nasked, for he did not know that soon he himself would be sent away as\npart of the tribute which the Athenians paid every nine years to King\nMinos of Crete.\n\nThough everything seemed to be peaceful and happy through the winter,\nyet Theseus felt that all was not well. When he went into the houses of\nthe town's people, where all had been merry and proud of his visits, he\nsaw melancholy, silent mothers, and he missed the young people, lads and\nmaidens. Many of them were said to have gone to visit friends in\nfar-away parts of Greece. The elder folk, and the young people who were\nleft, used to stand watching the sea all day, as if they expected\nsomething strange to come upon them from the sea, and Aegeus sat\nsorrowful over the fire, speaking little, and he seemed to be in fear.\n\nTheseus was disturbed in his mind, and he did not choose to put\nquestions to Aegeus or to the townsfolk. He and Medea were great friends,\nand one day when they were alone in her chamber, where a fragrant fire\nof cedar wood burned, he told her what he had noticed. Medea sighed, and\nsaid: 'The curse of the sons of Pallas is coming upon the people of\nAthens--such a curse and so terrible that not even you, Prince Theseus,\ncan deal with it. The enemy is not one man or one monster only, but the\ngreatest and most powerful king in the world.'\n\n'Tell me all,' said Theseus, 'for though I am but one man, yet the\never-living gods protect and help me.'\n\n'The story of the curse is long,' said Medea. 'When your father Aegeus\nwas young, after he returned to Athens from Troezene, he decreed that\ngames should be held every five years, contests in running, boxing,\nwrestling, foot races, and chariot races. Not only the people of Athens,\nbut strangers were allowed to take part in the games, and among the\nstrangers came Androgeos, the eldest son of great Minos, King of\nCnossos, in the isle of Crete of the Hundred Cities, far away in the\nsouthern sea. Minos is the wisest of men, and the most high god, even\nZeus, is his counsellor, and speaks to him face to face. He is the\nrichest of men, and his ships are without number, so that he rules all\nthe islands, and makes war, when he will, even against the King of\nEgypt. The son of Minos it was who came to the sports with three fair\nships, and he was the strongest and swiftest of men. He won the foot\nrace, and the prizes for boxing and wrestling, and for shooting with the\nbow, and throwing the spear, and hurling the heavy weight, and he easily\novercame the strongest of the sons of Pallas.\n\n'Then, being unjust men and dishonourable, they slew him at a feast in\nthe hall of Aegeus, their own guest in the king's house they slew, a\nthing hateful to the gods above all other evil deeds. His ships fled in\nthe night, bearing the news to King Minos, and, a year after that day,\nthe sea was black with his countless ships. His men landed, and they\nwere so many, all glittering in armour of bronze, that none dared to\nmeet them in battle. King Aegeus and all the elder men of the city went\nhumbly to meet Minos, clad in mourning, and bearing in their hands\nboughs of trees, wreathed with wool, to show that they came praying for\nmercy. \"Mercy ye shall have when ye have given up to me the men who slew\nmy son,\" said Minos. But Aegeus could not give up the sons of Pallas, for\nlong ago they had fled in disguise, and were lurking here and there, in\nall the uttermost parts of Greece, in the huts of peasants. Such mercy,\nthen, the Athenians got as Minos was pleased to give. He did not burn\nthe city, and slay the men, and carry the women captives. But he made\nAegeus and the chief men swear that every nine years they would choose by\nlot seven of the strongest youths, and seven of the fairest maidens, and\ngive them to his men, to carry away to Crete. Every nine years he sends\na ship with dark sails, to bear away the captives, and this is the ninth\nyear, and the day of the coming of the ship is at hand. Can you resist\nKing Minos?'\n\n'His ship we could burn, and his men we could slay,' said Theseus; and\nhis hand closed on the hilt of his sword.\n\n'That may well be,' said Medea, 'but in a year Minos would come with his\nfleet and his army, and burn the city; and the other cities of Greece,\nfearing him and not loving us, would give us no aid.'\n\n'Then,' said Theseus, 'we must even pay the tribute for this last time;\nbut in nine years, if I live, and the gods help me, I shall have a\nfleet, and Minos must fight for his tribute. For in nine years Athens\nwill be queen of all the cities round about, and strong in men and\nships. Yet, tell me, how does Minos treat the captives from Athens,\nkindly or unkindly?'\n\n'None has ever come back to tell the tale,' said Medea, 'but the sailors\nof Minos say that he places the captives in a strange prison called the\nLabyrinth. It is full of dark winding ways, cut in the solid rock, and\ntherein the captives are lost and perish of hunger, or live till they\nmeet a Thing called the Minotaur. This monster has the body of a strong\nman, and a man's legs and arms, but his head is the head of a bull, and\nhis teeth are the teeth of a lion, and no man may deal with him. Those\nwhom he meets he tosses, and gores, and devours. Whence this evil beast\ncame I know, but the truth of it may not be spoken. It is not lawful for\nKing Minos to slay the Horror, which to him is great shame and grief;\nneither may he help any man to slay it. Therefore, in his anger against\nthe Athenians he swore that, once in every nine years, he would give\nfourteen of the Athenian men and maidens to the Thing, and that none of\nthem should bear sword or spear, dagger or axe, or any other weapon.\nYet, if one of the men, or all of them together, could slay the monster,\nMinos made oath that Athens should be free of him and his tribute.'\n\nTheseus laughed and stood up. 'Soon,' he said, 'shall King Minos be free\nfrom the Horror, and Athens shall be free from the tribute, if, indeed,\nthe gods be with me. For me need no lot be cast; gladly I will go to\nCrete of my free will.'\n\n'I needed not to be a prophetess to know that you would speak thus,'\nsaid Medea. 'But one thing even I can do. Take this phial, and bear it\nin your breast, and, when you face the Minotaur, do as I shall tell\nyou.' Then she whispered some words to Theseus, and he marked them\ncarefully.\n\nHe went forth from Medea's bower; he walked to the crest of the hill\nupon which Athens is built, and there he saw all the people gathered,\nweeping, and looking towards the sea. Swiftly a ship with black sails\nwas being rowed towards the shore, and her sides shone with the bronze\nshields of her crew, that were hung on the bulwarks.\n\n'My friends,' cried Theseus, 'I know that ship, and wherefore she comes,\nand with her I shall sail to Crete and slay the Minotaur. Did I not slay\nSinis and Sciron, Cercyon and Procrustes, and Periphetes? Let there be\nno drawing of lots. Where are seven men and seven maidens who will come\nwith me, and meet these Cretans when they land, and sail back with them,\nand see this famous Crete, for the love of Theseus?'\n\nThen there stepped forth seven young men of the best of Athens, tall,\nand strong, and fair, the ancestors of them who smote, a thousand years\nafterwards, the Persians at Marathon and in the strait of Salamis. 'We\nwill live or die with you, Prince Theseus,' they said.\n\nNext, one by one, came out of the throng, blushing, but with heads erect\nand firm steps, the seven maidens whom the seven young men loved. They,\ntoo, were tall, and beautiful, and stately, like the stone maidens\ncalled Caryatides who bear up the roofs of temples.\n\n'We will live and die with you, Prince Theseus, and with our lovers,'\nthey cried; and all the people gave such a cheer that King Aegeus heard\nit, and came from his palace, leaning on his staff, and Medea walked\nbeside him.\n\n'Why do you raise a glad cry, my children?' said Aegeus. 'Is not that the\nShip of Death, and must we not cast lots for the tribute to King Minos?'\n\n'Sir,' said Theseus, 'we rejoice because we go as free folk, of our own\nwill, these men and maidens and I, to take such fortune as the gods may\ngive us, and to do as well as we may. Nay, delay us not, for from this\nhour shall Athens be free, without master or lord among Cretan men.'\n\n'But, my son, who shall defend me, who shall guide me, when I have lost\nthee, the light of mine eyes, and the strength of my arm?' whimpered\nAegeus.\n\n'Is the king weeping alone, while the fathers and mothers of my\ncompanions have dry eyes?' said Theseus. 'The gods will be your helpers,\nand the lady who is my friend, and who devised the slaying of the sons\nof Pallas. Hers was the mind, if the hand was my own, that wrought their\nruin. Let her be your counsellor, for no other is so wise. But that ship\nis near the shore, and we must go.'\n\nThen Theseus embraced Aegeus, and Medea kissed him, and the young men\nand maidens kissed their fathers and mothers, and said farewell. With\nTheseus at their head they marched down the hill, two by two; but Medea\nsent after them chariots laden with changes of raiment, and food, and\nskins of wine, and all things of which they had need. They were to sail\nin their own hired ship, for such was the custom, and the ship was ready\nwith her oarsmen. But Theseus and the Seven, by the law of Minos, might\ncarry no swords or other weapons of war. The ship had a black sail, but\nAegeus gave to the captain a sail dyed scarlet with the juice of the\nscarlet oak, and bade him hoist it if he was bringing back Theseus\nsafe, but, if not, to return under the black sail.\n\nThe captain, and the outlook man, and the crew, and the ship came all\nfrom the isle of Salamis, for as yet the Athenians had no vessels fit\nfor long voyages--only fishing-boats. As Theseus and his company marched\nalong they met the herald of King Minos, bearing a sacred staff, for\nheralds were holy, and to slay a herald was a deadly sin. He stopped\nwhen he met Theseus, and wondered at his beauty and strength. 'My lord,'\nsaid he, 'wherefore come you with the Fourteen? Know you to what end\nthey are sailing?'\n\n'That I know not, nor you, nor any man, but they and I are going to one\nend, such as the gods may give us,' answered Theseus. 'Speak with me no\nmore, I pray you, and go no nearer Athens, for there men's hearts are\nhigh to-day, and they carry swords.'\n\nThe voice and the eyes of Theseus daunted the herald, and he with his\nmen turned and followed behind, humbly, as if they were captives and\nTheseus were conqueror.\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\nTHESEUS IN CRETE\n\n\nAfter many days' sailing, now through the straits under the beautiful\npeaks of the mountains that crowned the islands, and now across the wide\nsea far from sight of land, they beheld the crest of Mount Ida of Crete,\nand ran into the harbour, where a hundred ships lay at anchor, and a\ngreat crowd was gathered. Theseus marvelled at the ships, so many and so\nstrong, and at the harbour with its huge walls, while he and his\ncompany landed. A hundred of the guardsmen of Minos, with large shields,\nand breastplates made of ribs of bronze, and helmets of bronze with\nhorns on them, were drawn up on the pier. They surrounded the little\ncompany of Athenians, and they all marched to the town of Cnossos, and\nthe palace of the king.\n\nIf Theseus marvelled at the harbour he wondered yet more at the town. It\nwas so great that it seemed endless, and round it went a high wall, and\nat every forty yards was a square tower with small square windows high\nup. These towers were exactly like those which you may see among the\nhills and beside the burns in the Border country, the south of Scotland\nand the north of England; towers built when England and Scotland were at\nwar. But when they had passed through the gateway in the chief tower,\nthe town seemed more wonderful than the walls, for in all things it was\nquite unlike the cities of Greece. The street, paved with flat paving\nstones, wound between houses like our own, with a ground floor (in this\nthere were no windows) and with two or three stories above, in which\nthere were windows, with sashes, and with so many panes to each window,\nthe panes were coloured red. Each window opened on a balcony, and the\nbalconies were crowded with ladies in gay dresses like those which are\nnow worn. Under their hats their hair fell in long plaits over their\nshoulders: they had very fine white blouses, short jackets, embroidered\nin bright coloured silk, and skirts with flounces. Laughing merrily they\nlooked down at the little troop of prisoners, chatting, and some saying\nthey were sorry for the Athenian girls. Others, seeing Theseus marching\nfirst, a head taller than the tallest guardsman, threw flowers that\nfell at his feet, and cried, 'Go on, brave Prince!' for they could not\nbelieve that he was one of the prisoners.\n\nThe crowd in the street being great, the march was stopped under a house\ntaller than the rest; in the balcony one lady alone was seated, the\nothers stood round her as if they were her handmaidens. This lady was\nmost richly dressed, young, and very beautiful and stately, and was,\nindeed, the king's daughter, Ariadne. She looked grave and full of pity,\nand, as Theseus happened to glance upwards, their eyes met, and remained\nfixed on each other. Theseus, who had never thought much about girls\nbefore, grew pale, for he had never seen so beautiful a maiden: Ariadne\nalso turned pale, and then blushed and looked away, but her eyes glanced\ndown again at Theseus, and he saw it, and a strange feeling came into\nhis heart.\n\nThe guards cleared the crowd, and they all marched on till they came to\nthe palace walls and gate, which were more beautiful even than the walls\nof the town. But the greatest wonder of all was the palace, standing in\na wide park, and itself far greater than such towns as Theseus had seen,\nTroezene, or Aphidnae, or Athens. There was a multitude of roofs of\nvarious heights, endless roofs, endless windows, terraces, and gardens:\nno king's palace of our times is nearly so great and strong. There were\nfountains and flowers and sweet-smelling trees in blossom, and, when the\nAthenians were led within the palace, they felt lost among the winding\npassages and halls.\n\nThe walls of them were painted with pictures of flying fishes, above a\nclear white sea, in which fish of many kinds were swimming, with the\nspray and bubbles flying from their tails, as the sea flows apart from\nthe rudder of a ship. There were pictures of bull fights, men and girls\nteasing the bull, and throwing somersaults over him, and one bull had\njust tossed a girl high in the air. Ladies were painted in balconies,\nlooking on, just such ladies as had watched Theseus and his company; and\nyoung men bearing tall cool vases full of wine were painted on other\nwalls; and others were decorated with figures of bulls and stags, in\nhard plaster, fashioned marvellously, and standing out from the walls\n'in relief,' as it is called. Other walls, again, were painted with\npatterns of leaves and flowers.\n\nThe rooms were full of the richest furniture, chairs inlaid with ivory,\ngold, and silver, chests inlaid with painted porcelain in little\nsquares, each square containing a separate bright coloured picture.\nThere were glorious carpets, and in some passages stood rows of vases,\neach of them large enough to hold a man, like the pots in the story of\nAli Baba and the Forty Thieves in the Arabian Nights. There were tablets\nof stone brought from Egypt, with images carved of gods and kings, and\nstrange Egyptian writing, and there were cups of gold and\nsilver--indeed, I could not tell you half the beautiful and wonderful\nthings in the palace of Minos. We know that this is true, for the things\nthemselves, all of them, or pictures of them, have been brought to\nlight, dug out from under ground; and, after years of digging, there is\nstill plenty of this wonderful palace to be explored.\n\nThe Athenians were dazzled, and felt lost and giddy with passing through\nso many rooms and passages, before they were led into the great hall\nnamed the Throne Room, where Minos was sitting in his gilded throne that\nis still standing. Around him stood his chiefs and princes, gloriously\nclothed in silken robes with jewels of gold; they left a lane between\ntheir ranks, and down this lane was led Theseus at the head of his\nlittle company. Minos, a dark-faced man, with touches of white in his\nhair and long beard, sat with his elbow on his knee, and his chin in his\nhand, and he fixed his eyes on the eyes of Theseus. Theseus bowed and\nthen stood erect, with his eyes on the eyes of Minos.\n\n'You are fifteen in number,' said Minos at last, 'my law claims\nfourteen.'\n\n'I came of my own will,' answered Theseus, 'and of their own will came\nmy company. No lots were cast.'\n\n'Wherefore?' asked Minos.\n\n'The people of Athens have a mind to be free, O king.'\n\n'There is a way,' said Minos. 'Slay the Minotaur and you are free from\nmy tribute.'\n\n'I am minded to slay him,' said Theseus, and, as he spoke, there was a\nstir in the throng of chiefs, and priests, and princes, and Ariadne\nglided through them, and stood a little behind her father's throne, at\none side. Theseus bowed low, and again stood erect, with his eyes on the\nface of Ariadne.\n\n'You speak like a king's son that has not known misfortune,' said Minos.\n\n'I have known misfortune, and my name is Theseus, Aegeus' son,' said\nTheseus.\n\n'This is a new thing. When I saw King Aegeus he had no son, but he had\nmany nephews.'\n\n'No son that he wotted of,' said Theseus, 'but now he has no nephews,\nand one son.'\n\n'Is it so?' asked Minos, 'then you have avenged me on the slayers of my\nown son, fair sir, for it was your sword, was it not, that delivered\nAegeus from the sons of Pallas?'\n\n'My sword and the swords of my friends, of whom seven stand before you.'\n\n'I will learn if this be true,' said Minos.\n\n'True!' cried Theseus, and his hand flew to the place where his\nsword-hilt should have been, but he had no sword.\n\nKing Minos smiled. 'You are young,' he said, 'I will learn more of these\nmatters. Lead these men and maidens to their own chambers in the\npalace,' he cried to his guard. 'Let each have a separate chamber, and\nall things that are fitting for princes. To-morrow I will take counsel.'\n\nTheseus was gazing at Ariadne. She stood behind her father, and she put\nup her right hand as if to straighten her veil, but, as she raised her\nhand, she swiftly made the motion of lifting a cup to the lips; and then\nshe laid on her lips the fingers of her left hand, closing them fast.\nTheseus saw the token, and he bowed, as did all his company, to Minos\nand to the princess, and they were led upstairs and along galleries,\neach to a chamber more rich and beautiful than they had seen before in\ntheir dreams. Then each was taken to a bath, they were washed and\nclothed in new garments, and brought back to their chambers, where meat\nwas put before them, and wine in cups of gold. At the door of each\nchamber were stationed two guards, but four guards were set at the door\nof Theseus. At nightfall more food was brought, and, for Theseus, much\nred wine, in a great vessel adorned with ropes and knobs of gold.\n\nTheseus ate well, but he drank none, and, when he had finished, he\nopened the door of his chamber, and carried out all the wine and the\ncup. 'I am one,' he said, 'who drinks water, and loves not the smell of\nwine in his chamber.'\n\nThe guards thanked him, and soon he heard them very merry over the\nking's best wine, next he did not hear them at all, next--he heard them\nsnoring!\n\nTheseus opened the door gently and silently: the guards lay asleep\nacross and beside the threshold. Something bright caught his eye, he\nlooked up, a lamp was moving along the dark corridor, a lamp in the hand\nof a woman clad in a black robe; the light fell on her white silent\nfeet, and on the feet of another woman who followed her.\n\nTheseus softly slipped back into his chamber. The light, though shaded\nby the girl's hand, showed in the crevice between the door and the\ndoor-post. Softly entered Ariadne, followed by an old woman that had\nbeen her nurse. 'You guessed the token?' she whispered. 'In the wine was\na sleepy drug.'\n\nTheseus, who was kneeling to her, nodded.\n\n'I can show you the way to flee, and I bring you a sword.'\n\n'I thank you, lady, for the sword, and I pray you to show me the way--to\nthe Minotaur.'\n\nAriadne grew pale, and her hand flew to her heart.\n\n'I pray you make haste. Flee I will not, nor, if the king have mercy on\nus, will I leave Crete till I have met the Minotaur: for he has shed the\nblood of my people.'\n\nAriadne loved Theseus, and knew well in her heart that he loved her. But\nshe was brave, and she made no more ado; she beckoned to him, and\nstepped across the sleeping guardsmen that lay beside the threshold.\nTheseus held up his hand, and she stopped, while he took two swords from\nthe men of the guard. One was long, with a strong straight narrow blade\ntapering to a very sharp point; the other sword was short and straight,\nwith keen cutting double edges. Theseus slung them round his neck by\ntheir belts, and Ariadne walked down the corridor, Theseus following\nher, and the old nurse following him. He had taken the swords from the\nsleeping men lest, if Ariadne gave him one, it might be found out that\nshe had helped him, and she knew this in her heart, for neither of them\nspoke a word.\n\nSwiftly and silently they went, through galleries and corridors that\nturned and wound about, till Ariadne came to the door of her own\nchamber. Here she held up her hand, and Theseus stopped, till she came\nforth again, thrusting something into the bosom of her gown. Again she\nled the way, down a broad staircase between great pillars, into a hall,\nwhence she turned, and passed down a narrower stair, and then through\nmany passages, till she came into the open air, and they crossed rough\nground to a cave in a hill. In the back of the cave was a door plated\nwith bronze which she opened with a key. Here she stopped and took out\nof the bosom of her gown a coil of fine strong thread.\n\n'Take this,' she said, 'and enter by that door, and first of all make\nfast the end of the coil to a stone, and so walk through the labyrinth,\nand, when you would come back, the coil shall be your guide. Take this\nkey also, to open the door, and lock it from within. If you return place\nthe key in a cleft in the wall within the outer door of the palace.'\n\nShe stopped and looked at Theseus with melancholy eyes, and he threw his\narms about her, and they kissed and embraced as lovers do who are\nparting and know not if they may ever meet again.\n\nAt last she sighed and said, 'The dawn is near--farewell; the gods be\nwith you. I give you the watchword of the night, that you may pass the\nsentinels if you come forth alive,' and she told him the word. Then she\nopened the door and gave him the key, and the old nurse gave him the\nlamp which she carried, and some food to take with him.\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\nTHE SLAYING OF THE MINOTAUR\n\n\nTheseus first fastened one end of his coil of string to a pointed rock,\nand then began to look about him. The labyrinth was dark, and he slowly\nwalked, holding the string, down the broadest path, from which others\nturned off to right or left. He counted his steps, and he had taken near\nthree thousand steps when he saw the pale sky showing in a small circle\ncut in the rocky roof, above his head, and he saw the fading stars.\nSheer walls of rock went up on either hand of him, a roof of rock was\nabove him, but in the roof was this one open place, across which were\nheavy bars. Soon the daylight would come.\n\nTheseus set the lamp down on a rock behind a corner, and he waited,\nthinking, at a place where a narrow dark path turned at right angles to\nthe left. Looking carefully round he saw a heap of bones, not human\nbones, but skulls of oxen and sheep, hoofs of oxen, and shank bones.\n'This,' he thought, 'must be the place where the food of the Minotaur is\nlet down to him from above. They have not Athenian youths and maidens to\ngive him every day! Beside his feeding place I will wait.' Saying this\nto himself, he rose and went round the corner of the dark narrow path\ncut in the rock to the left. He made his own breakfast, from the food\nthat Ariadne had given him, and it occurred to his mind that probably\nthe Minotaur might also be thinking of breakfast time.\n\nHe sat still, and from afar away within he heard a faint sound, like the\nend of the echo of a roar, and he stood up, drew his long sword, and\nlistened keenly. The sound came nearer and louder, a strange sound, not\ndeep like the roar of a bull, but more shrill and thin. Theseus laughed\nsilently. A monster with the head and tongue of a bull, but with the\nchest of a man, could roar no better than that! The sounds came nearer\nand louder, but still with the thin sharp tone in them. Theseus now took\nfrom his bosom the phial of gold that Medea had given him in Athens when\nshe told him about the Minotaur. He removed the stopper, and held his\nthumb over the mouth of the phial, and grasped his long sword with his\nleft hand, after fastening the clue of thread to his belt.\n\nThe roars of the hungry Minotaur came nearer and nearer; now his feet\ncould be heard padding along the echoing floor of the labyrinth. Theseus\nmoved to the shadowy corner of the narrow path, where it opened into the\nbroad light passage, and he crouched there; his heart was beating\nquickly. On came the Minotaur, up leaped Theseus, and dashed the\ncontents of the open phial in the eyes of the monster; a white dust flew\nout, and Theseus leaped back into his hiding place. The Minotaur uttered\nstrange shrieks of pain; he rubbed his eyes with his monstrous hands; he\nraised his head up towards the sky, bellowing and confused; he stood\ntossing his head up and down; he turned round and round about, feeling\nwith his hands for the wall. He was quite blind. Theseus drew his short\nsword, crept up, on naked feet, behind the monster, and cut through\nthe back sinews of his legs at the knees. Down fell the Minotaur, with a\ncrash and a roar, biting at the rocky floor with his lion's teeth, and\nwaving his hands, and clutching at the empty air. Theseus waited for his\nchance, when the clutching hands rested, and then, thrice he drove the\nlong sharp blade of bronze through the heart of the Minotaur. The body\nleaped, and lay still.\n\n[Illustration: HOW THESEUS SLEW THE MINOTAUR.]\n\nTheseus kneeled down, and thanked all the gods, and promised rich\nsacrifices, and a new temple to Pallas Athene, the Guardian of Athens.\nWhen he had finished his prayer, he drew the short sword, and hacked off\nthe head of the Minotaur. He sheathed both his swords, took the head in\nhis hand, and followed the string back out of the daylit place, to the\nrock where he had left his lamp. With the lamp and the guidance of the\nstring he easily found his way to the door, which he unlocked. He\nnoticed that the thick bronze plates of the door were dinted and scarred\nby the points of the horns of the Minotaur, trying to force his way out.\n\nHe went out into the fresh early morning; all the birds were singing\nmerrily, and merry was the heart of Theseus. He locked the door, and\ncrossed to the palace, which he entered, putting the key in the place\nwhich Ariadne had shown him. She was there, with fear and joy in her\neyes. 'Touch me not,' said Theseus, 'for I am foul with the blood of the\nMinotaur.' She brought him to the baths on the ground floor, and swiftly\nfled up a secret stair. In the bathroom Theseus made himself clean, and\nclad himself in fresh raiment which was lying ready for him. When he was\nclean and clad he tied a rope of byblus round the horns of the head of\nthe Minotaur, and went round the back of the palace, trailing the head\nbehind him, till he came to a sentinel. 'I would see King Minos,' he\nsaid, 'I have the password, _Androgeos_!'\n\nThe sentinel, pale and wondering, let him pass, and so he went through\nthe guards, and reached the great door of the palace, and there the\nservants wrapped the bleeding head in cloth, that it might not stain the\nfloors. Theseus bade them lead him to King Minos, who was seated on his\nthrone, judging the four guardsmen, that had been found asleep.\n\nWhen Theseus entered, followed by the serving men with their burden, the\nking never stirred on his throne, but turned his grey eyes on Theseus.\n'My lord,' said Theseus, 'that which was to be done is done.' The\nservants laid their burden at the feet of King Minos, and removed the\ntop fold of the covering.\n\nThe king turned to the captain of his guard. 'A week in the cells for\neach of these four men,' said he, and the four guards, who had expected\nto die by a cruel death, were led away. 'Let that head and the body also\nbe burned to ashes and thrown into the sea, far from the shore,' said\nMinos, and his servants silently covered the head of the Minotaur, and\nbore it from the throne room.\n\nThen, at last, Minos rose from his throne, and took the hand of Theseus,\nand said, 'Sir, I thank you, and I give you back your company safe and\nfree; and I am no more in hatred with your people. Let there be peace\nbetween me and them. But will you not abide with us awhile, and be our\nguests?'\n\nTheseus was glad enough, and he and his company tarried in the palace,\nand were kindly treated. Minos showed Theseus all the splendour and\ngreatness of his kingdom and his ships, and great armouries, full of all\nmanner of weapons: the names and numbers of them are yet known, for\nthey are written on tablets of clay, that were found in the storehouse\nof the king. Later, in the twilight, Theseus and Ariadne would walk\ntogether in the fragrant gardens where the nightingales sang, and Minos\nknew it, and was glad. He thought that nowhere in the world could he\nfind such a husband for his daughter, and he deemed it wise to have the\nalliance of so great a king as Theseus promised to be. But, loving his\ndaughter, he kept Theseus with him long, till the prince was ashamed of\nhis delay, knowing that his father, King Aegeus, and all the people of\nhis country, were looking for him anxiously.\n\nTherefore he told what was in his heart to Minos, who sighed, and said,\n'I knew what is in your heart, and I cannot say you nay. I give to you\nmy daughter as gladly as a father may.' Then they spoke of things of\nstate, and made firm alliance between Cnossos and Athens while they both\nlived; and the wedding was done with great splendour, and, at last,\nTheseus and Ariadne and all their company went aboard, and sailed from\nCrete. One misfortune they had: the captain of their ship died of a\nsickness while they were in Crete, but Minos gave them the best of his\ncaptains. Yet by reason of storms and tempests they had a long and\nterrible voyage, driven out of their course into strange seas. When at\nlength they found their bearings, a grievous sickness fell on beautiful\nAriadne. Day by day she was weaker, till Theseus, with a breaking heart,\nstayed the ship at an isle but two days' sail from Athens. There Ariadne\nwas carried ashore, and laid in a bed in the house of the king of that\nisland, and the physicians and the wise women did for her what they\ncould. But she died with her hands in the hands of Theseus, and his lips\non her lips. In that isle she was buried, and Theseus went on board his\nship, and drew his cloak over his head, and so lay for two days, never\nmoving nor speaking, and tasting neither meat nor drink. No man dared to\nspeak to him, but when the vessel stopped in the harbour of Athens, he\narose, and stared about him.\n\nThe shore was dark with people all dressed in mourning raiment, and the\nherald of the city came with the news that Aegeus the King was dead. For\nthe Cretan captain did not know that he was to hoist the scarlet sail if\nTheseus came home in triumph, and Aegeus, as he watched the waters, had\ndescried the dark sail from afar off, and, in his grief, had thrown\nhimself down from the cliff, and was drowned. This was the end of the\nvoyaging of Theseus.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTheseus wished to die, and be with Ariadne, in the land of Queen\nPersephone. But he was a strong man, and he lived to be the greatest of\nthe Kings of Athens, for all the other towns came in, and were his\nsubjects, and he ruled them well. His first care was to build a great\nfleet in secret harbours far from towns and the ways of men, for, though\nhe and Minos were friends while they both lived, when Minos died the new\nCretan king might oppress Athens.\n\nMinos died, at last, and his son picked a quarrel with Theseus, who\nrefused to give up a man that had fled to Athens because the new king\ndesired to slay him, and news came to Theseus that a great navy was\nbeing made ready in Crete to attack him. Then he sent heralds to the\nking of a fierce people, called the Dorians, who were moving through the\ncountries to the north-west of Greece, seizing lands, settling on them,\nand marching forward again in a few years. They were wild, strong, and\nbrave, and they are said to have had swords of iron, which were better\nthan the bronze weapons of the Greeks. The heralds of Theseus said to\nthem, 'Come to our king, and he will take you across the sea, and show\nyou plunder enough. But you shall swear not to harm his kingdom.'\n\nThis pleased the Dorians well, and the ships of Theseus brought them\nround to Athens, where Theseus joined them with many of his own men, and\nthey did the oath. They sailed swiftly to Crete, where, as they arrived\nin the dark, the Cretan captains thought that they were part of their\nown navy, coming in to join them in the attack on Athens; for that\nTheseus had a navy the Cretans knew not; he had built it so secretly. In\nthe night he marched his men to Cnossos, and took the garrison by\nsurprise, and burned the palace, and plundered it. Even now we can see\nthat the palace has been partly burned, and hurriedly robbed by some\nsudden enemy.\n\nThe Dorians stayed in Crete, and were there in the time of Ulysses,\nholding part of the island, while the true Cretans held the greater part\nof it. But Theseus returned to Athens, and married Hippolyte, Queen of\nthe Amazons. The story of their wedding festival is told in\nShakespeare's play, 'A Midsummer Night's Dream.' And Theseus had many\nnew adventures, and many troubles, but he left Athens rich and strong,\nand in no more danger from the kings of Crete. Though the Dorians, after\nthe time of Ulysses, swept all over the rest of Greece, and seized\nMycenae and Lacedaemon, the towns of Agamemnon and Menelaus, they were\ntrue to their oath to Theseus, and left Athens to the Athenians.\n\n\n\n\nPERSEUS\n\n\n\n\nI\n\nTHE PRISON OF DANAE\n\n\nMany years before the Siege of Troy there lived in Greece two princes\nwho were brothers and deadly enemies. Each of them wished to be king\nboth of Argos (where Diomede ruled in the time of the Trojan war), and\nof Tiryns. After long wars one of the brothers, Proetus, took Tiryns,\nand built the great walls of huge stones, and the palace; while the\nother brother, Acrisius, took Argos, and he married Eurydice, a princess\nof the Royal House of Lacedaemon, where Menelaus and Helen were King and\nQueen in later times.\n\nAcrisius had one daughter, Danae, who became the most beautiful woman in\nGreece, but he had no son. This made him very unhappy, for he thought\nthat, when he grew old, the sons of his brother Proetus would attack\nhim, and take his lands and city, if he had no son to lead his army. His\nbest plan would have been to find some brave young prince, like Theseus,\nand give Danae to him for his wife, and their sons would be leaders of\nthe men of Argos. But Acrisius preferred to go to the prophetic maiden\nof the temple of Apollo at Delphi (or Pytho, as it was then called), and\nask what chance he had of being the father of a son.\n\nThe maiden seldom had good news to give any man; but at least this time\nit was easy to understand what she said. She went down into the deep\ncavern below the temple floor, where it was said that a strange mist or\nsteam flowed up out of the earth, and made her fall into a strange\nsleep, in which she could walk and speak, but knew not what she was\nsinging, for she sang her prophecies. At last she came back, very pale,\nwith her laurel wreath twisted awry, and her eyes open, but seeing\nnothing. She sang that Acrisius would never have a son; but that his\ndaughter would bear a son, who would kill him.\n\nAcrisius mounted his chariot, sad and sorry, and was driven homewards.\nOn the way he never spoke a word, but was thinking how he might escape\nfrom the prophecy, and baffle the will of Zeus, the chief of the gods.\nHe did not know that Zeus himself had looked down upon Danae and fallen\nin love with her, nor did Danae know.\n\nThe only sure way to avoid the prophecy was to kill Danae, and Acrisius\nthought of doing this; but he loved her too much; and he was afraid that\nhis people would rise against him, if he slew his daughter, the pride of\ntheir hearts. Still another fear was upon Acrisius, which will be\nexplained later in the story. He could think of nothing better than to\nbuild a house all of bronze, in the court of his palace, a house sunk\ndeep in the earth, but with part of the roof open to the sky, as was the\nway in all houses then; the light came in from above, and the smoke of\nthe fire went out in the same way. This chamber Acrisius built, and in\nit he shut up poor Danae with the woman that had been her nurse. They\nsaw nothing, hills or plains or sea, men or trees, they only saw the sun\nat midday, and the sky, and the free birds flitting across it. There\nDanae lay, and was weary and sad, and she could not guess why her\nfather thus imprisoned her. He used to visit her often and seemed kind\nand sorry for her, but he would never listen when she implored him to\nsell her for a slave into a far country, so that, at least, she might\nsee the world in which she lived.\n\nNow on a day a mysterious thing happened; the old poet Pindar, who lived\nlong after, in the time of the war between the Greeks and the King of\nPersia, says that a living stream of gold flowed down from the sky and\nfilled the chamber of Danae. Some time after this Danae bore a baby, a\nson, the strongest and most beautiful of children. She and her nurse\nkept it secret, and the child was brought up in an inner chamber of the\nhouse of bronze. It was difficult to prevent so lively a child from\nmaking a noise in his play, and one day, when Acrisius was with Danae,\nthe boy, now three or four years old, escaped from his nurse, and ran\nfrom her room, laughing and shouting. Acrisius rushed out, and saw the\nnurse catch the child, and throw her mantle over him. Acrisius seized\nthe boy, who stood firm on his little legs, with his head high, frowning\nat his grandfather, and gazing in anger out of his large blue eyes.\nAcrisius saw that this child would be dangerous when he became a man,\nand in great anger he bade his guards take the nurse out, and strangle\nher with a rope, while Danae knelt weeping at his feet.\n\nWhen they were alone he said to Danae: 'Who is the father of this\nchild?' but she, with her boy on her arm, slipped past Acrisius, and out\nof the open door, and up the staircase, into the open air. She ran to\nthe altar of Zeus, which was built in the court, and threw her arms\nround it, thinking that there no man dared to touch her. 'I cry to Zeus\nthat is throned in the highest, the Lord of Thunder,' she said: 'for he\nand no other is the father of my boy, even Perseus.' The sky was bright\nand blue without a cloud, and Danae cried in vain. There came no flash\nof lightning nor roll of thunder.\n\n'Is it even so?' said Acrisius, 'then let Zeus guard his own.' He bade\nhis men drag Danae from the altar; and lock her again in the house of\nbronze; while he had a great strong chest made. In that chest he had the\ncruelty to place Danae and her boy, and he sent them out to sea in a\nship, the sailors having orders to let the chest down into the waters\nwhen they were far from shore. They dared not disobey, but they put food\nand a skin of wine, and two skins of water in the chest, and lowered it\ninto the sea, which was perfectly calm and still. It was their hope that\nsome ship would come sailing by, perhaps a ship of Phoenician\nmerchant-men, who would certainly save Danae and the child, if only that\nthey might sell them for slaves.\n\nKing Acrisius himself was not ignorant that this might happen, and that\nhis grandson might live to be the cause of his death. But the Greeks\nbelieved that if any man killed one of his own kinsfolk, he would be\npursued and driven mad by the Furies called the Erinyes, terrible winged\nwomen with cruel claws. These winged women drove Orestes, the son of\nAgamemnon, fleeing like a madman through the world, because he slew his\nown mother, Clytaemnestra, to avenge his father, whom she and Aegisthus\nhad slain. Nothing was so much dreaded as these Furies, and therefore\nAcrisius did not dare to slay his daughter and his grandson, Perseus,\nbut only put them in the way of being drowned. He heard no more of them,\nand hoped that both of their bodies were rolling in the waves, or that\ntheir bones lay bleaching on some unknown shore. But he could not be\ncertain--indeed, he soon knew better--and as long as he lived, he lived\nin fear that Perseus had escaped, and would come and slay him, as the\nprophetess had said in her song.\n\nThe chest floated on the still waters, and the sea birds swooped down to\nlook at it, and passed by, with one waft of their wings. The sun set,\nand Danae watched the stars, the Bear and Orion with his belt, and\nwrapped her boy up warm, and he slept sound, for he never knew fear, in\nhis mother's arms. The Dawn came in her golden throne, and Danae saw\naround her the blue sharp crests of the mountains of the islands that\nlay scattered like water lilies on the seas of Greece. If only the\ncurrent would drift her to an island, she thought, and prayed in her\nheart to the Gods of Good Help, Pallas Athene, and Hermes of the Golden\nWand. Soon she began to hope that the chest was drawing near an island.\nShe turned her head in the opposite direction for a long while, and then\nlooked forward again. She was much nearer the island, and could see the\nsmoke going up from cottages among the trees. But she drifted on and\ndrifted past the end of the isle, and on with the current, and so all\nday.\n\nA weary day she had, for the boy was full of play, and was like to\ncapsize the chest. She gave him some wine and water, and presently he\nfell asleep, and Danae watched the sea and the distant isles till night\ncame again. It was dark, with no moon, and the darker because the chest\nfloated into the shadow of a mountain, and the current drew it near the\nshore. But Danae dared not hope again; men would not be abroad, she\nthought, in the night. As she lay thus helpless, she saw a light moving\non the sea, and she cried as loud as she could cry. Then the light\nstopped, and a man's shout came to her over the water, and the light\nmoved swiftly towards her. It came from a brazier set on a pole in a\nboat, and now Danae could see the bright sparks that shone in the drops\nfrom the oars, for the boat was being rowed towards her, as fast as two\nstrong men could pull.\n\nBeing weak from the heat of the sun that had beaten on her for two days,\nand tired out with hopes and fears, Danae fainted, and knew nothing till\nshe felt cold water on her face. Then she opened her eyes, and saw kind\neyes looking at her own, and the brown face of a bearded man, in the\nlight of the blaze that fishermen carry in their boats at night, for the\nfish come to wonder at it, and the fishermen spear them. There were many\ndead fish in the boat, into which Danae and the child had been lifted,\nand a man with a fish spear in his hand was stooping over her.\n\nThen Danae knew that she and her boy were saved, and she lay, unable to\nspeak, till the oarsmen had pulled their boat to a little pier of stone.\nThere the man with the fish spear lifted her up lightly and softly set\nher on her feet on land, and a boatman handed to him the boy, who was\nawake, and was crying for food.\n\n'You are safe, lady!' said the man with the spear, 'and I have taken\nfairer fish than ever swam the sea. I am called Dictys; my brother,\nPolydectes, is king of this island, and my wife is waiting for me at\nhome, where she will make you welcome, and the boy thrice welcome, for\nthe gods have taken our only son.'\n\nHe asked no questions of Danae; it was reckoned ill manners to put\nquestions to strangers and guests, but he lighted two torches at the\nfire in the boat, and bade his two men walk in front, to show the way,\nwhile he supported Danae, and carried the child on his shoulder. They\nhad not far to go, for Dictys, who loved fishing of all things, had his\nhouse near the shore. Soon they saw the light shining up from the\nopening in the roof of the hall; and the wife of Dictys came running\nout, crying: 'Good sport?' when she heard their voices and footsteps.\n\n'Rare sport,' shouted Dictys cheerily, and he led in Danae, and gave the\nchild into the arms of his wife. Then they were taken to the warm baths,\nand dressed in fresh raiment. Food was set before them, and presently\nDanae and Perseus slept on soft beds, with coverlets of scarlet wool.\n\nDictys and his wife never asked Danae any questions about how and why\nshe came floating on the sea through the night. News was carried quickly\nenough from the mainland to the islands by fishers in their boats and\nmerchant men, and pedlars. Dictys heard how the king of Argos had\nlaunched his daughter and her son on the sea, hoping that both would be\ndrowned. All the people knew in the island, which was called Seriphos,\nand they hated the cruelty of Acrisius, and many believed that Perseus\nwas the son of Zeus.\n\nIf the news from Argos reached Seriphos, we may guess that the news from\nSeriphos reached Argos, and that Acrisius heard how a woman as beautiful\nas a goddess, with a boy of the race of the gods, had drifted to the\nshore of the little isle. Acrisius knew, and fear grew about his heart,\nfear that was sharper as the years went on, while Perseus was coming to\nhis manhood. Acrisius often thought of ways by which he might have his\ngrandson slain; but none of them seemed safe. By the time when Perseus\nwas fifteen, Acrisius dared not go out of doors, except among the\nspears of his armed guards, and he was so eaten up by fear that it would\nhave been happier for him if he had never been born.\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nTHE VOW OF PERSEUS\n\n\nIt was fortunate for Perseus that Dictys treated him and taught him like\nhis own son, and checked him if he was fierce and quarrelsome, as so\nstrong a boy was apt to be. He was trained in all the exercises of young\nmen, the use of spear and sword, shield and bow; and in running,\nleaping, hunting, rowing, and the art of sailing a boat. There were no\nbooks in Seriphos, nobody could read or write; but Perseus was told the\nstories of old times, and of old warriors who slew monsters by sea and\nland. Most of the monsters had been killed, as Perseus was sorry to\nhear, for he desired to try his own luck with them when he came to be a\nman. But the most terrible of all, the Gorgons, who were hated by men\nand gods, lived still, in an island near the Land of the Dead; but the\nway to that island was unknown. These Gorgons were two sisters, and a\nthird woman; the two were hideous to look on, with hair and wings and\nclaws of bronze, and with teeth like the white tusks of swine. Swinish\nthey were, ugly and loathsome, feeding fearfully on the bodies of\nunburied men. But the third Gorgon was beautiful save for the living\nserpents that coiled in her hair. She alone of the three Gorgons was\nmortal, and could be slain, but who could slay her? So terrible were her\neyes that men who had gone up against her were changed into pillars of\nstone.\n\nThis was one of the stories that Perseus heard when he was a boy; and\nthere was a proverb that this or that hard task was 'as difficult to do\nas to slay the Gorgon.' Perseus, then, ever since he was a little boy,\nwas wondering how he could slay the Gorgon and become as famous as the\nstrong man Heracles, or the good knight Bellerophon, who slew the\nChimaera. Perseus was always thinking of such famous men as these, and\nespecially loved the story of Bellerophon, which is this:\n\nIn the city of Ephyre, now called Corinth, was a king named Glaucus, who\nhad a son, Bellerophon. He was brought up far from home, in Argos, by\nKing Proetus (the great-uncle of Perseus), who was his foster-father,\nand loved him well. Proetus was an old man, but his wife, Anteia, was\nyoung and beautiful, and Bellerophon also was beautiful and young, and,\nby little and little, Anteia fell in love with him, and could not be\nhappy without him, but no such love was in Bellerophon's heart for her,\nwho was his foster-mother. At last Anteia, forgetting all shame, told\nBellerophon that she loved him, and hated her husband; and she asked him\nto fly with her to the seashore, where she had a ship lying ready, and\nthey two would sail to some island far away, and be happy together.\n\nBellerophon knew not what to say; he could not wrong King Proetus, his\nfoster-father. He stood speechless, his face was red with shame, but the\nface of Anteia grew white with rage.\n\n'Dastard!' she said, 'thou shalt not live long in Argos to boast of my\nlove and your own virtue!' She ran from him, straight to King Proetus,\nand flung herself at his feet. 'What shall be done, oh king,' she cried,\n'to the man who speaks words of love dishonourable to the Queen of\nArgos?'\n\n'By the splendour of Zeus,' cried Proetus, 'if he were my own foster-son\nhe shall die!'\n\n'Thou hast named him!' said Anteia, and she ran to her own upper\nchamber, and locked the door, and flung herself on the bed, weeping for\nrage as if her heart would break. Proetus followed her, but she would\nnot unlock her door, only he heard her bitter weeping, and he went\napart, alone, and took thought how he should be revenged on Bellerophon.\nHe had no desire to slay him openly, for then the King of Ephyre would\nmake war against him. He could not bring him to trial before the judges,\nfor there was no witness against him except Anteia; and he did not\ndesire to make his subjects talk about the queen, for it was the glory\nof a woman, in those days, not to be spoken of in the conversation of\nmen.\n\nTherefore Proetus, for a day or two, seemed to favour Bellerophon more\nkindly than ever. Next he called him into his chamber, alone, and said\nthat it was well for young men to see the world, to cross the sea and\nvisit foreign cities, and win renown. The eyes of Bellerophon brightened\nat these words, not only because he desired to travel, but because he\nwas miserable in Argos, where he saw every day the angry eyes of Anteia.\nThen Proetus said that the King of Lycia, in Asia far across the sea,\nwas his father-in-law, and his great friend. To him he would send\nBellerophon, and Proetus gave him a folded tablet, in which he had\nwritten many deadly signs. Bellerophon took the folded tablet, not\nlooking, of course, at what was written in it, and away he sailed to\nLycia. The king of that country received him well, and on the tenth day\nafter his arrival asked him if he brought any token from King Proetus.\n\nBellerophon gave him the tablet, which he opened and read. The writing\nsaid that Bellerophon must die. Now at that time Lycia was haunted by a\nmonster of no human birth; her front was the front of a lion, in the\nmiddle of her body she was a goat, she tapered away to a strong swift\nserpent, and she breathed flame from her nostrils. The King of Lycia,\nwishing to get rid of Bellerophon, had but to name this curse to his\nguest, who vowed that he would meet her if he might find her. So he was\nled to the cavern where she dwelt, and there he watched for her all\nnight till the day dawned.\n\nHe was cunning as well as brave, and men asked him why he took with him\nno weapon but his sword, and two spears with heavy heads, not of bronze,\nbut of soft lead. Bellerophon told his companions that he had his own\nway of fighting, and bade them go home, and leave him alone, while his\ncharioteer stood by the horses and chariot in a hollow way, out of\nsight. Bellerophon himself watched, lying on his face, hidden behind a\nrock in the mouth of the cavern. The moment that the rising sun touched\nwith a red ray the dark mouth of the cave, forth came the Chimaera, and,\nsetting her fore paws on the rock, looked over the valley. The moment\nthat she opened her mouth, breathing flame, Bellerophon plunged his\nleaden spears deep down her throat, and sprang aside. On came the\nChimaera, her serpent tail lashing the stones, but Bellerophon ever kept\non the further side of a great tall rock. The Chimaera ceased to pursue\nhim, she rolled on the earth, uttering screams of pain, for the lead was\nmelting in the fire that was within her, and at last the molten lead\nburned through her, and she died. Bellerophon hacked off her head, and\nseveral feet of her tail, stowed them in his chariot, and drove back to\nthe palace of the King of Lycia, while the people followed him with\nsongs of praise.\n\nThe king set him three other terrible tasks, but he achieved each of the\nadventures gloriously, and the king gave him his daughter to be his\nbride, and half of all the honours of his kingdom. This is the story of\nBellerophon (there were other ways of telling it), and Perseus was\ndetermined to do as great deeds as he. But Perseus was still a boy, and\nhe did not know, and no man could tell him, the way to the island of the\nGorgons.\n\nWhen Perseus was about sixteen years old, the King of Seriphos,\nPolydectes, saw Danae, fell in love with her, and wanted to take her\ninto his palace, but he did not want Perseus. He was a bad and cruel\nman, but Perseus was so much beloved by the people that he dared not\nkill him openly. He therefore made friends with the lad, and watched him\ncarefully to see how he could take advantage of him. The king saw that\nhe was of a rash, daring and haughty spirit, though Dictys had taught\nhim to keep himself well in hand, and that he was eager to win glory.\nThe king fell on this plan: he gave a great feast on his birthday, and\ninvited all the chief men and the richest on the island; Perseus, too,\nhe asked to the banquet. As the custom was, all the guests brought\ngifts, the best that they had, cattle, women-slaves, golden cups, wedges\nof gold, great vessels of bronze, and other splendid things, and the\nking met the guests at the door of his hall, and thanked them\ngraciously.\n\nLast came Perseus: he had no gift to give, for he had nothing of his\nown. The others began to sneer at him, saying, 'Here is a birthday guest\nwithout a birthday gift!' 'How should No Man's son have a present fit\nfor a king.' 'This lad is lazy, tied to his mother; he should long ago\nhave taken service with the captain of a merchant ship.' 'He might at\nleast watch the town's cows on the town's fields,' said another. Thus\nthey insulted Perseus, and the king, watching him with a cruel smile,\nsaw his face grow red, and his blue eyes blaze, as he turned from one to\nanother of the mockers, who pointed their fingers at him and jeered.\n\nAt last Perseus spoke: 'Ye farmers and fishers, ye ship-captains and\nslave dealers of a little isle, I shall bring to your master such a\npresent as none of you dare to seek. Farewell. Ye shall see me once\nagain and no more. I go to slay the Gorgon, and bring such a gift as no\nking possesses--the Head of the Gorgon.'\n\nThey laughed and hooted, but Perseus turned away, his hand on his sword\nhilt, and left them to their festival, while the king rejoiced in his\nheart. Perseus dared not see his mother again, but he spoke to Dictys,\nsaying that he knew himself now to be of an age when he must seek his\nfortune in other lands; and he bade Dictys guard his mother from wrong,\nas well as he might. Dictys promised that he would find a way of\nprotecting Danae, and he gave Perseus three weighed wedges of gold\n(which were called 'talents,' and served as money), and lent him a ship,\nto take him to the mainland of Greece, there to seek his fortune.\n\nIn the dawn Perseus secretly sailed away, landed at Malea, and thence\nwalked and wandered everywhere, seeking to learn the way to the island\nof the Gorgons. He was poorly clad, and he slept at night by the fires\nof smithies, where beggars and wanderers lay: listening to the stories\nthey told, and asking old people, when he met them, if they knew any one\nwho knew the way to the island of the Gorgons. They all shook their\nheads. 'Yet I should be near knowing,' said one old man, 'if that isle\nbe close to the Land of the Dead, for I am on its borders. Yet I know\nnothing. Perchance the dead may know; or the maid that prophesies at\nPytho, or the Selloi, the priests with unwashen feet, who sleep on the\nground below the sacred oaks of Zeus in the grove of Dodona far away.'\n\nPerseus could learn no more than this, and he wandered on and on. He\nwent to the cave that leads down to the Land of the Dead, where the\nghosts answer questions in their thin voices, like the twittering of\nbats. But the ghosts could not tell him what he desired to know. He went\nto Pytho, where the maid, in her song, bade him seek the land of men who\neat acorns instead of the yellow grain of Demeter, the goddess of\nharvest. Thence he wandered to Epirus, and to the Selloi who dwell in\nthe oak forest of Zeus, and live on the flour ground from acorns. One of\nthem lay on the ground in the wood, with his head covered up in his\nmantle, and listened to what the wind says, when it whispers to the\nforest leaves. The leaves said, 'We bid the young man be of good hope,\nfor the gods are with him.'\n\nThis answer did not tell Perseus where the isle of the Gorgons lay, but\nthe words put hope in his heart, weary and footsore as he was. He ate of\nthe bread made of the acorns, and of the flesh of the swine that the\nSelloi gave him, and he went alone, and, far in the forest, he laid his\nhead down on the broad mossy root of an old oak tree. He did not sleep,\nbut watched the stars through the boughs, and he heard the cries of the\nnight-wandering beasts in the woodland.\n\n'If the gods be with me, I shall yet do well,' he said, and, as he\nspoke, he saw a white clear light moving through the darkness. That\nclear white light shone from a golden lamp in the hand of a tall and\nbeautiful woman, clad in armour, and wearing, hung by a belt from her\nneck, a great shield of polished bronze. With her there came a young\nman, with winged shoon of gold on his feet, and belted with a strange\nshort curved sword: in his hand was a golden wand, with wings on it, and\nwith golden serpents twisted round it.\n\nPerseus knew that these beautiful folk were the Goddess Athene, and\nHermes, who brings all fortunate things. He fell upon his face before\nthem, but Athene spoke in a sweet grave voice, saying, 'Arise, Perseus,\nand speak to us face to face, for we are of your kindred, we also are\nchildren of Zeus, the Father of gods and men.'\n\nThen Perseus arose and looked straight into their eyes.\n\n'We have watched you long, Perseus, to learn whether you have the heart\nof a hero, that can achieve great adventures; or whether you are an idle\ndreaming boy. We have seen that your heart is steadfast, and that you\nhave sought through hunger, and long travel to know the way wherein you\nmust find death or win glory. That way is not to be found without the\nhelp of the gods. First you must seek the Three Grey Women, who dwell\nbeyond the land that lies at the back of the North Wind. They will tell\nyou the road to the three Nymphs of the West, who live in an island of\nthe sea that never knew a sail; for it is beyond the pillars that\nHeracles set up when he wearied in his journey to the Well of the\nWorld's End, and turned again. You must go to these nymphs, where never\nfoot of man has trod, and they will show you the measure of the way to\nthe Isle of the Gorgons. If you see the faces of the Gorgons, you will\nbe turned to stone. Yet you have vowed to bring the head of the youngest\nof the three, she who was not born a Gorgon but became one of them by\nreason of her own wickedness. If you slay her, you must not see even her\ndead head, but wrap it round in this goat-skin which hangs beside my\nshield; see not the head yourself, and let none see it but your\nenemies.'\n\n'This is a great adventure,' said Perseus, 'to slay a woman whom I may\nnot look upon, lest I be changed into stone.'\n\n'I give you my polished shield,' said Athene. 'Let it never grow dim, if\nyou would live and see the sunlight.' She took off her shield from her\nneck, with the goat-skin cover of the shield, and hung them round the\nneck of Perseus. He knelt and thanked her for her grace, and, looking up\nthrough a clear space between the forest boughs, he said, 'I see the\nBear, the stars of the North that are the guide of sailors. I shall walk\ntowards them even now, by your will, for my heart burns to find the\nThree Grey Women, and learn the way.'\n\nHermes smiled, and said, 'An old man and white-bearded would you be, ere\nyou measured out that way on foot! Here, take my winged sandals, and\nbind them about your feet. They know all the paths of the air, and they\nwill bring you to the Three Grey Women. Belt yourself, too, with my\nsword, for this sword needs no second stroke, but will cleave through\nthat you set it to smite.'\n\nSo Perseus bound on the Shoes of Swiftness, and the Sword of Sharpness,\nthe name of it was Herpe; and when he rose from binding on the shoon, he\nwas alone. The gods had departed. He drew the sword, and cut at an oak\ntree trunk, and the blade went clean through it, while the tree fell\nwith a crash like thunder. Then Perseus rose through the clear space in\nthe wood, and flew under the stars, towards the constellation of the\nBear. North of Greece he flew, above the Thracian mountains, and the\nDanube (which was then called the Ister) lay beneath him like a long\nthread of silver. The air grew cold as he crossed lands then unknown to\nthe Greeks, lands where wild men dwelt, clad in the skins of beasts, and\nusing axe-heads and spear-heads made of sharpened stones. He passed to\nthe land at the back of the North Wind, a sunny warm land, where the\npeople sacrifice wild asses to the God Apollo. Beyond this he came to a\nburning desert of sand, but far away he saw trees that love the water,\npoplars and willows, and thither he flew.\n\nHe came to a lake among the trees, and round and round the lake were\nflying three huge grey swans, with the heads of women, and their long\ngrey hair flowed down below their bodies, and floated on the wind. They\nsang to each other as they flew, in a voice like the cry of the swan.\nThey had but one eye among them, and but one tooth, which they passed to\neach other in turn, for they had arms and hands under their wings.\nPerseus dropped down in his flight, and watched them. When one was\npassing the eye to the other, none of them could see him, so he waited\nfor his chance and took it, and seized the eye.\n\n'Where is our eye? Have _you_ got it?' said the Grey Woman from whose\nhand Perseus took it. 'I have it not.'\n\n'I have it not!' cried each of the others, and they all wailed like\nswans.\n\n'I have it,' said Perseus, and hearing his voice they all flew to the\nsound of it but he easily kept out of their way. 'The eye will I keep,'\nsaid Perseus, 'till you tell me what none knows but you, the way to the\nIsle of the Gorgons.'\n\n'We know it not,' cried the poor Grey Women. 'None knows it but the\nNymphs of the Isle of the West: give us our eye!'\n\n'Then tell me the way to the Nymphs of the Isle of the West,' said\nPerseus.\n\n'Turn your back, and hold your course past the isle of Albion, with the\nwhite cliffs, and so keep with the land on your left hand, and the\nunsailed sea on your right hand, till you mark the pillars of Heracles\non your left, then take your course west by south, and a curse on you!\nGive us our eye!'\n\nPerseus gave them their eye, and she who took it flew at him, but he\nlaughed, and rose high above them and flew as he was told. Over many and\nmany a league of sea and land he went, till he turned to his right from\nthe Pillars of Heracles (at Gibraltar), and sailed along, west by south,\nthrough warm air, over the lonely endless Atlantic waters. At last he\nsaw a great blue mountain, with snow feathering its crests, in a far-off\nisland, and on that island he alighted. It was a country of beautiful\nflowers, and pine forests high on the hill, but below the pines all was\nlike a garden, and in that garden was a tree bearing apples of gold, and\nround the tree were dancing three fair maidens, clothed in green, and\nwhite, and red.\n\n'These must be the Nymphs of the Isle of the West,' said Perseus, and he\nfloated down into the garden, and drew near them.\n\nAs soon as they saw him they left off dancing, and catching each other\nby the hands they ran to Perseus laughing, and crying, 'Hermes, our\nplayfellow Hermes has come!' The arms of all of them went round Perseus\nat once, with much laughing and kissing. 'Why have you brought a great\nshield, Hermes?' they cried, 'here there is no unfriendly god or man to\nfight against you.'\n\nPerseus saw that they had mistaken him for the god whose sword and\nwinged shoon he wore, but he did not dislike the mistake of the merry\nmaidens.\n\n'I am not Hermes,' he said, 'but a mortal man, to whom the god has\ngraciously lent his sword and shoon, and the shield was lent to me by\nPallas Athene. My name is Perseus.'\n\nThe girls leaped back from him, blushing and looking shy. The eldest\ngirl answered, 'We are the daughters of Hesperus, the God of the Evening\nStar. I am Aegle, this is my sister Erytheia, and this is Hesperia. We\nare the keepers of this island, which is the garden of the gods, and\nthey often visit us; our cousins, Dionysus, the young god of wine and\nmirth, and Hermes of the Golden Wand come often; and bright Apollo, and\nhis sister Artemis the huntress. But a mortal man we have never seen,\nand wherefore have the gods sent you hither?'\n\n'The two gods sent me, maidens, to ask you the way to the Isle of the\nGorgons, that I may slay Medusa of the snaky hair, whom gods and men\ndetest.'\n\n'Alas!' answered the nymphs, 'how shall you slay her, even if we knew\nthe way to that island, which we know not?'\n\nPerseus sighed: he had gone so far, and endured so much, and had come to\nthe Nymphs of the Isle of the West, and even they could not tell how to\nreach the Gorgons' island.\n\n[Illustration: PERSEUS IN THE GARDEN OF THE HESPERIDES.]\n\n'Do not fear,' said the girl, 'for if we know not the way we know one\nthat knows it: Atlas is his name--the Giant of the Mountain. He dwells\non the highest peak of the snow-crested hill, and it is he who holds up\nthe heavens, and keeps heaven and earth asunder. He looks over all the\nworld, and over the wide western sea: him we must ask to answer your\nquestion. Take off your shield, which is so heavy, and sit down with us\namong the flowers, and let us think how you may slay the Gorgon.'\n\nPerseus gladly unslung his heavy shield, and sat down among the white\nand purple wind flowers. Aegle, too, sat down; but young Erytheia held\nthe shield upright, while beautiful Hesperia admired herself, laughing,\nin the polished surface.\n\nPerseus smiled as he watched them, and a plan came into his mind. In all\nhis wanderings he had been trying hard to think how, if he found the\nGorgon, he might cut off her head, without seeing the face which turned\nmen into stone. Now his puzzle was ended. He could hold up the shield\nabove the Gorgon, and see the reflection of her face, as in a mirror,\njust as now he saw the fair reflected face of Hesperia. He turned to\nAegle, who sat silently beside him: 'Maiden,' he said, 'I have found out\nthe secret that has perplexed me long, how I may strike at the Gorgon\nwithout seeing her face that turns men to stone. I will hang above her\nin the air, and see her face reflected in the mirror of the shield, and\nso know where to strike.' The two other girls had left the shield on the\ngrass, and they clapped their hands when Perseus said this, but Aegle\nstill looked grave.\n\n'It is much that you should have found this cunning plan; but the\nGorgons will see you, and two of them are deathless and cannot be slain,\neven with the sword Herpe. These Gorgons have wings almost as swift as\nthe winged shoon of Hermes, and they have claws of bronze that cannot\nbe broken.'\n\nHesperia clapped her hands. 'Yet I know a way,' she said, 'so that this\nfriend of ours may approach the Gorgons, yet not be seen by them. You\nmust be told,' she said, turning to Perseus, 'that we three sisters were\nof the company of the Fairy Queen, Persephone, daughter of Demeter, the\nGoddess of the Harvest. We were gathering flowers with her, in the plain\nof Enna, in a spring morning, when there sprang up a new flower,\nfragrant and beautiful, the white narcissus. No sooner had Persephone\nplucked that flower than the earth opened beside her, and up came the\nchariot and horses of Hades, the King of the Dead, who caught Persephone\ninto his chariot, and bore her down with him to the House of Hades. We\nwept and were in great fear, but Zeus granted to Persephone to return to\nearth with the first snowdrop, and remain with her mother, Demeter, till\nthe last rose had faded. Now I was the favourite of Persephone, and she\ncarried me with her to see her husband, who is kind to me for her sake,\nand can refuse me nothing, and he has what will serve your turn. To him\nI will go, for often I go to see my playmate, when it is winter in your\nworld: it is always summer in our isle. To him I will go, and return\nagain, when I will so work that you may be seen of none, neither by god,\nor man, or monster. Meanwhile my sisters will take care of you, and\nto-morrow they will lead you to the mountain top, to speak with the\nGiant.'\n\n'It is well spoken,' said tall, grave Aegle, and she led Perseus to their\nhouse, and gave him food and wine, and at night he slept full of hope,\nin a chamber in the courtyard.\n\nNext morning, early, Perseus and Aegle and Erytheia floated up to the\ncrest of the mountain, for Hesperia had departed in the night, to visit\nQueen Persephone. Perseus took a hand of each of the Nymphs, and they\nhad no weary climbing; they all soared up together, so great was the\npower of the winged shoon of Hermes. They found the good giant Atlas,\nkneeling on a black rock above the snow, holding up the vault of heaven\nwith either hand. When Aegle had spoken to him, he bade his girls go\napart, and said to Perseus, 'Yonder, far away to the west, you see an\nisland with a mountain that rises to a flat top, like a table. There\ndwell the Gorgons.'\n\nPerseus thanked him eagerly, but Atlas sighed and said, 'Mine is a weary\nlife. Here have I knelt and done my task, since the Giants fought\nagainst the gods, and were defeated. Then, for my punishment, I was set\nhere by Zeus to keep sky and earth asunder. But he told me that after\nhundreds of years I should have rest, and be changed to a stone. Now I\nsee that the day of rest appointed is come, for you shall show me the\nhead of the Gorgon when you have slain her, and my body shall be stone,\nbut my spirit shall be with the ever living gods.'\n\nPerseus pitied Atlas; he bowed to the will of Zeus, and to the prayer of\nthe giant, and gave his promise. Then he floated to Aegle and Erytheia,\nand they all three floated down again to the garden of the golden\napples. Here as they walked on the soft grass, and watched the wind toss\nthe white and red and purple bells of the wind flowers, they heard a low\nlaughter close to them, the laughter of Hesperia, but her they saw not.\n'Where are you, Hesperia, where are you hiding?' cried Aegle, wondering,\nfor the wide lawn was open, without bush or tree where the girl might be\nlurking.\n\n'Find me if you can,' cried the voice of Hesperia, close beside them,\nand handfuls of flowers were lightly tossed to them, yet they saw none\nwho threw them. 'This place is surely enchanted,' thought Perseus, and\nthe voice of Hesperia answered:\n\n'Come follow, follow me. I will run before you to the house, and show\nyou my secret.'\n\nThen they all saw the flowers bending, and the grass waving, as if a\nlight-footed girl were running through it, and they followed to the\nhouse the path in the trodden grass. At the door, Hesperia met them:\n'You could not see me,' she said, 'nor will the Gorgons see Perseus.\nLook, on that table lies the Helmet of Hades, which mortal men call the\nCap of Darkness. While I wore it you could not see me, nay, a deathless\ngod cannot see the wearer of that helmet.' She took up a dark cap of\nhard leather, that lay on a table in the hall, and raised it to her\nhead, and when she had put it on, she was invisible. She took it off,\nand placed it on the brows of Perseus. 'We cannot see you, Perseus,'\ncried all the girls. 'Look at yourself in your shining shield: can you\nsee yourself?'\n\nPerseus turned to the shield, which he had hung on a golden nail in the\nwall. He saw only the polished bronze, and the faces of the girls who\nwere looking over his shoulder. He took off the Helmet of Hades and gave\na great sigh. 'Kind are the gods,' he said. 'Methinks that I shall\nindeed keep my vow, and bring to Polydectes the Gorgon's head.'\n\nThey were merry that night, and Perseus told them his story, how he was\nthe son of Zeus, and the girls called him 'cousin Perseus.' 'We love you\nvery much, and we could make you immortal, without old age and death,'\nsaid Hesperia. 'You might live with us here for ever--it is lonely,\nsometimes, for three maidens in the garden of the gods. But you must\nkeep your vow, and punish your enemies, and cherish your mother, and do\nnot forget your cousins three, when you have married the lady of your\nheart's desire, and are King of Argos.'\n\nThe tears stood in the eyes of Perseus. 'Cousins dear,' he said, 'never\nshall I forget you, not even in the House of Hades. You will come\nthither now and again, Hesperia? But I love no woman.'\n\n'I think you will not long be without a lady and a love, Perseus,' said\nErytheia; 'but the night is late, and to-morrow you have much to do.'\n\nSo they parted, and next morning they bade Perseus be of good hope. He\nburnished and polished the shield, and covered it with the goat's skin,\nhe put on the Shoes of Swiftness, and belted himself with the Sword of\nSharpness, and placed on his head the Cap of Darkness. Then he soared\nhigh in the air, till he saw the Gorgons' Isle, and the table-shaped\nmountain, a speck in the western sea.\n\nThe way was long, but the shoes were swift, and, far aloft, in the heat\nof the noon-day, Perseus looked down on the top of the table-mountain.\nThere he could dimly see three bulks of strange shapeless shape, with\nmonstrous limbs that never stirred, and he knew that the Gorgons were\nsleeping their midday sleep. Then he held the shield so that the shapes\nwere reflected in its polished face, and very slowly he floated down,\nand down, till he was within striking distance. There they lay, two of\nthem uglier than sin, breathing loud in their sleep like drunken men.\nBut the face of her who lay between the others was as quiet as the face\nof a sleeping child; and as beautiful as the face of the goddess of\nLove, with long dark eyelashes veiling the eyes, and red lips half\nopen. Nothing stirred but the serpents in the hair of beautiful Medusa;\nthey were never still, but coiled and twisted, and Perseus loathed them\nas he watched them in the mirror. They coiled and uncoiled, and left\nbare her ivory neck, and then Perseus drew the sword Herpe, and struck\nonce.\n\nIn the mirror he saw the fallen head, and he seized it by the hair, and\nwrapped it in the goat-skin, and put the goat-skin in his wallet. Then\nhe towered high in the air, and, looking down, he saw the two sister\nGorgons turning in their sleep; they woke, and saw their sister dead.\nThey seemed to speak to each other; they looked this way and that, into\nthe bright empty air, for Perseus in the Cap of Darkness they could not\nsee. They rose on their mighty wings, hunting low, and high, and with\ncasts behind their island and in front of it, but Perseus was flying\nfaster than ever he flew before, stooping and rising to hide his scent.\nHe dived into the deep sea, and flew under water as long as he could\nhold his breath, and then rose and fled swiftly forward. The Gorgons\nwere puzzled by each double he had made, and, at the place where he\ndived they lost the scent, and from far away Perseus heard their loud\nyelps, but soon these faded in the distance. He often looked over his\nshoulder as he flew straight towards the far-off blue hill of the giant\nAtlas, but the sky was empty behind him, and the Gorgons he never saw\nagain. The mountain turned from blue to clear grey and red and gold,\nwith pencilled rifts and glens, and soon Perseus stood beside the giant\nAtlas. 'You are welcome and blessed,' said the giant. 'Show me the head\nthat I may be at rest.'\n\nThen Perseus took the bundle from the wallet, and carefully unbound the\ngoat-skin, and held up the head, looking away from it, and the Giant\nwas a great grey stone. Down sailed Perseus, and stood in the garden of\nthe gods, and laid the Cap of Darkness on the grass. The three Nymphs\nwho were sitting there, weaving garlands of flowers, leaped up, and came\nround him, and kissed him, and crowned him with the flowery chaplets.\nThat night he rested with them, and in the morning they kissed and said\nfarewell.\n\n'Do not forget us,' said Aegle, 'nor be too sorry for our loneliness.\nTo-day Hermes has been with us, and to-morrow he comes again with\nDionysus, the god of the vine, and all his merry company. Hermes left a\nmessage for you, that you are to fly eastward, and south, to the place\nwhere your wings shall guide you, and there, he said, you shall find\nyour happiness. When that is won, you shall turn north and west, to your\nown country. We say, all three of us, that our love is with you always,\nand we shall hear of your gladness, for Hermes will tell us; then we too\nshall be glad. Farewell!'\n\nSo the three maidens embraced him with kind faces and smiling eyes, and\nPerseus, too, smiled as well as he might, but in his eastward way he\noften looked back, and was sad when he could no longer see the kindly\nhill above the garden of the gods.\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nPERSEUS AND ANDROMEDA\n\n\nPerseus flew where the wings bore him, over great mountains, and over a\nwilderness of sand. Below his feet the wind woke the sand storms, and\nbeneath him he saw nothing but a soft floor of yellow grey, and when\nthat cleared he saw islands of green trees round some well in the\nwaste, and long trains of camels, and brown men riding swift horses, at\nwhich he wondered; for the Greeks in his time drove in chariots, and did\nnot ride. The red sun behind him fell, and all the land was purple, but,\nin a moment, as it seemed, the stars rushed out, and he sped along in\nthe starlight till the sky was grey again, and rosy, and full of fiery\ncolours, green and gold and ruby and amethyst. Then the sun rose, and\nPerseus looked down on a green land, through which was flowing north a\ngreat river, and he guessed that it was the river Aegyptus, which we now\ncall the Nile. Beneath him was a town, with many white houses in groves\nof palm trees, and with great temples of the gods, built of red stone.\nThe shoes of swiftness stopped above the wide market-place, and there\nPerseus hung poised, till he saw a multitude of men pour out of the door\nof a temple.\n\nAt their head walked the king, who was like a Greek, and he led a maiden\nas white as snow wreathed with flowers and circlets of wool, like the\noxen in Greece, when men sacrifice them to the gods. Behind the king and\nthe maid came a throng of brown men, first priests and magicians and\nplayers on harps, and women shaking metal rattles that made a wild\nmournful noise, while the multitude lamented.\n\nSlowly, while Perseus watched, they passed down to the shore of the\ngreat river, so wide a river as Perseus had never seen. They went to a\nsteep red rock, like a wall, above the river; at its foot was a flat\nshelf of rock--the water just washed over it. Here they stopped, and the\nking kissed and embraced the white maiden. They bound her by chains of\nbronze to rings of bronze in the rock; they sang a strange hymn; and\nthen marched back to the town, throwing their mantles over their heads.\nThere the maiden stood, or rather hung forward supported by the chains.\nPerseus floated down, and, the nearer he came, the more beautiful seemed\nthe white maid, with her soft dark hair falling to her white feet.\nSoftly he floated down, till his feet were on the ledge of rock. She did\nnot hear him coming, and when he gently touched her she gave a cry, and\nturned on him her large dark eyes, wild and dry, without a tear. 'Is it\na god?' she said, clasping her hands.\n\n'No god, but a mortal man am I, Perseus the slayer of the Gorgon. What\ndo you here? What cruel men have bound you?'\n\n'I am Andromeda, the daughter of Cepheus, king of a strange people. The\nlot fell on me, of all the maidens in the city, to be offered to the\nmonster fish that walks on feet, who is their god. Once a year they give\nto him a maiden.'\n\nPerseus thereon drew the sword Herpe, and cut the chains of bronze that\nbound the girl as if they had been ropes of flax, and she fell at his\nfeet, covering her eyes with her hands. Then Perseus saw the long reeds\non the further shore of the river waving and stirring and crashing, and\nfrom them came a monstrous fish walking on feet, and slid into the\nwater. His long sharp black head showed above the stream as he swam, and\nthe water behind him showed like the water in the wake of a ship.\n\n'Be still and hide your eyes!' whispered Perseus to the maiden.\n\nHe took the goat-skin from his wallet, and held up the Gorgon's head,\nwith the back of it turned towards him, and he waited till the long\nblack head was lifted from the river's edge, and the forefeet of that\nfish were on the wet ledge of rock. Then he held the head before the\neyes of the monster, and from the head downward it slowly stiffened.\nThe head and forefeet and shoulders were of stone before the tail had\nceased to lash the water. Then the tail stiffened into a long jagged\nsharp stone, and Perseus, wrapping up the head in the goat-skin, placed\nit in his wallet. He turned his back to Andromeda, while he did this\nlest by mischance her eyes should open and see the head of the Gorgon.\nBut her eyes were closed, and Perseus found that she had fainted, from\nfear of the monster, and from the great heat of the sun. Perseus put the\npalms of his hands together like a cup, and stooping to the stream he\nbrought water, and threw it over the face and neck of Andromeda,\nwondering at her beauty. Her eyes opened at last, and she tried to rise\nto her feet, but she dropped on her knees, and clung with her fingers to\nthe rock. Seeing her so faint and weak Perseus raised her in his arms,\nwith her beautiful head pillowed on his shoulder, where she fell asleep\nlike a tired child. Then he rose in the air and floated over the sheer\nwall of red stone above the river, and flew slowly towards the town.\n\nThere were no sentinels at the gate; the long street was empty, for all\nthe people were in their houses, praying and weeping. But a little girl\nstole out of a house near the gate. She was too young to understand why\nher father and mother and elder brothers were so sad, and would not take\nany notice of her. She thought she would go out and play in the street,\nand when she looked up from her play, she saw Perseus bearing the king's\ndaughter in his arms. The child stared, and then ran into her house,\ncrying aloud, for she could hardly speak, and pulled so hard at her\nmother's gown that her mother rose and followed her to the house door.\nThe mother gave a joyful cry, her husband and her children ran forth,\nand they, too, shouted aloud for pleasure. Their cries reached the\nears of people in other houses, and presently all the folk, as glad as\nthey had been sorrowful, were following Perseus to the palace of the\nking. Perseus walked through the empty court, and stood at the door of\nthe hall, where the servants came to him, both men and women, and with\ntears of joy the women bore Andromeda to the chamber of her mother,\nQueen Cassiopeia.\n\n[Illustration: THE RESCUE OF ANDROMEDA.]\n\nWho can tell how happy were the king and queen, and how gladly they\nwelcomed Perseus! They made a feast for him, and they sent oxen and\nsheep to all the people, and wine, that all might rejoice and make\nmerry. Andromeda, too, came, pale but smiling, into the hall, and sat\ndown beside her mother's high seat, listening while Perseus told the\nwhole story of his adventures. Now Perseus could scarcely keep his eyes\nfrom Andromeda's face while he spoke, and she stole glances at him. When\ntheir eyes met, the colour came into her face again, which glowed like\nivory that a Carian woman has lightly tinged with rose colour, making an\nornament for some rich king. Perseus remembered the message of Hermes,\nwhich Aegle had given him, that if he flew to the east and south he would\nfind his happiness. He knew that he had found it, if this maiden would\nbe his wife, and he ended his tale by repeating the message of Hermes.\n\n'The gods speak only truth,' he said, 'and to have made you all happy is\nthe greatest happiness to Perseus of Argos.' Yet he hoped in his heart\nto see a yet happier day, when the rites of marriage should be done\nbetween Andromeda and him, and the young men and maidens should sing the\nwedding song before their door.\n\nAndromeda was of one mind with him, and, as Perseus must needs go home,\nher parents believed that she could not live without him who had saved\nher from such a cruel death. So with heavy hearts they made the marriage\nfeast, and with many tears Andromeda and her father and mother said\nfarewell. Perseus and his bride sailed down the great river Aegyptus in\nthe king's own boat; and at every town they were received with feasts,\nand songs, and dances. They saw all the wonderful things of Egypt,\npalaces and pyramids and temples and tombs of kings, and at last they\nfound a ship of the Cretans in the mouth of the Nile. This they hired,\nfor they carried with them great riches, gold, and myrrh, and ivory,\ngifts of the princes of Egypt.\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nHOW PERSEUS AVENGED DANAE\n\n\nWith a steady south wind behind them they sailed to Seriphos, and\nlanded, and brought their wealth ashore, and went to the house of\nDictys. They found him lonely and sorrowful, for his wife had died, and\nhis brother, King Polydectes, had taken Danae, and set her to grind corn\nin his house, among his slave women. When Perseus heard that word, he\nasked, 'Where is King Polydectes?'\n\n'It is his birthday, and he holds his feast among the princes,' said\nDictys.\n\n'Then bring me,' said Perseus, 'the worst of old clothes that any\nservant of your house can borrow from a beggar man, if there be a beggar\nman in the town.' Such a man there was--he came limping through the door\nof the courtyard, and up to the threshold of the house, where he sat\nwhining, and asking for alms. They gave him food and wine, and Perseus\ncried, 'New clothes for old, father, I will give you, and new shoes for\nold.' The beggar could not believe his ears, but he was taken to the\nbaths, and washed, and new clothes were given to him, while Perseus clad\nhimself in the beggar's rags, and Dictys took charge of the winged shoon\nof Hermes and the sword Herpe, and the burnished shield of Athene. Then\nPerseus cast dust and wood ashes on his hair, till it looked foul and\ngrey, and placed the goat-skin covering and the Gorgon's head in his\nwallet, and with the beggar's staff in his hand he limped to the palace\nof Polydectes. On the threshold he sat down, like a beggar, and\nPolydectes saw him and cried to his servants, 'Bring in that man; is it\nnot the day of my feast? Surely all are welcome.' Perseus was led in,\nlooking humbly at the ground, and was brought before the king.\n\n'What news, thou beggar man?' said the king.\n\n'Such news as was to be looked for,' whined Perseus. 'Behold, I am he\nwho brought no present to the king's feast, seven long years agone, and\nnow I come back, tired and hungry, to ask his grace.'\n\n'By the splendour of Zeus,' cried Polydectes, 'it is none but the beggar\nbrat who bragged that he would fetch me such a treasure as lies in no\nking's chamber! The beggar brat is a beggar man; how time and travel\nhave tamed him! Ho, one of you, run and fetch his mother who is grinding\nat the mill, that she may welcome her son.'\n\nA servant ran from the hall, and the chiefs of Seriphos mocked at\nPerseus. 'This is he who called us farmers and dealers in slaves. Verily\nhe would not fetch the price of an old cow in the slave market.' Then\nthey threw at him crusts of bread, and bones of swine, but he stood\nsilent.\n\nThen Danae was led in, clad in vile raiment, but looking like a queen,\nand the king cried, 'Go forward, woman: look at that beggar man; dost\nthou know thy son?' She walked on, her head high, and Perseus whispered,\n'Mother, stand thou beside me, and speak no word!'\n\n'My mother knows me not, or despises me,' said Perseus, 'yet, poor as I\nam, I do not come empty-handed. In my wallet is a gift, brought from\nvery far away, for my lord the king.'\n\nHe swung his wallet round in front of him; he took off the covering of\ngoat-skin, and he held the Gorgon's head on high, by the hair, facing\nthe king and the chiefs. In one moment they were all grey stones, all\nalong the hall, and the chairs whereon they sat crashed under the weight\nof them, and they rolled on the hard clay floor. Perseus wrapped the\nhead in the goat-skin, and shut it in the wallet carefully, and cried,\n'Mother, look round, and see thy son and thine own revenge.'\n\nThen Danae knew her son, by the sound of his voice, if not by her\neyesight, and she wept for joy. So they two went to the house of Dictys,\nand Perseus was cleansed, and clad in rich raiment, and Danae, too, was\napparelled like a free woman, and embraced Andromeda with great joy.\n\nPerseus made the good Dictys king of Seriphos; and he placed the winged\nshoes in the temple of Hermes, with the sword Herpe, and the Gorgon's\nhead, in its goat-skin cover; but the polished shield he laid on the\naltar in the temple of Athene. Then he bade all who served in the\ntemples come forth, both young and old, and he locked the doors, and he\nand Dictys watched all night, with the armed Cretans, the crew of his\nship, that none might enter. Next day Perseus alone went into the temple\nof Athene. It was as it had been, but the Gorgon's head and the\npolished shield were gone, and the winged shoon and the sword Herpe had\nvanished from the temple of Hermes.\n\nWith Danae and Andromeda Perseus sailed to Greece, where he learned that\nthe sons of King Proetus had driven King Acrisius out of Argos, and that\nhe had fled to Phthia in the north, where the ancestor of the great\nAchilles was king. Thither Perseus went, to see his grandfather, and he\nfound the young men holding games and sports in front of the palace.\nPerseus thought that his grandfather might love him better if he showed\nhis strength in the games, which were open to strangers, so he entered\nand won the race, and the prize for leaping, and then came the throwing\nof the disc of bronze. Perseus threw a great cast, far beyond the rest,\nbut the disc swerved, and fell among the crowd. Then Perseus was afraid,\nand ran like the wind to the place where the disc fell. There lay an old\nman, smitten sorely by the disc, and men said that he had killed King\nAcrisius.\n\nThus the word of the prophetess and the will of Fate were fulfilled.\nPerseus went weeping to the King of Phthia, and told him all the truth,\nand the king, who knew, as all Greece knew, how Acrisius had tried to\ndrown his daughter and her child, believed the tale, and said that\nPerseus was guiltless. He and Danae and Andromeda dwelt for a year in\nPhthia, with the king, and then Perseus with an army of Pelasgians and\nMyrmidons, marched south to Argos, and took the city, and drove out his\ncousins, the sons of Proetus. There in Argos Perseus, with his mother\nand beautiful Andromeda, dwelt long and happily, and he left the kingdom\nto his son when he died.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n_The story of Ulysses is taken mainly from the Iliad, the Odyssey, and\nthe_ Post Homerica _of Quintus Smyrnaeus. As we have no detailed account of\nthe stealing of the Palladium by Ulysses, use has been made of Helen's\ntale about his entry into Troy in the disguise of a beaten beggar.\n\nThe chief source of 'The Fleece of Gold' is tradition, with the\nArgonautica of Apollonius Rhodius; the fight between Polydeuces and the\nGiant is best reported by Theocritus.\n\nNo epic or tragedy concerning the early fortunes of Theseus and the\nhistory of Perseus has reached us: summaries in Plutarch and Apollodorus\nprovide the outlines of the legends.\n\nThe descriptions of costume, arms, and mode of life are derived from\nHomer and from the 'Mycenaean' relics discovered in the last thirty years\nby Dr. Schliemann, Mr. A. J. Evans, and many other explorers.\n\n'The Fleece of Gold,' first published in an American magazine, has also\nappeared in America in a little volume (Henry Altemus & Co.). It is here\nreprinted by permission of Messrs. Altemus, with some changes and\ncorrections._\n\n\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's note:\n\nMinor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without\nnote.\n\nSome Illustrations have been moved to avoid splitting paragraphs and\nmake smoother reading.\n\nThere are inconsistencies in the use of ligatures in some of the names.\nThese inconsistencies have been left as in the original text.","title":"Tales of Troy and Greece","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":93462}