{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_54214/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_54214","id":"gutenberg_54214","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/54214","summary":null,"tags":["Adventure stories","Animals -- Juvenile fiction","Category: Adventure","Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Historical Novels","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction","Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction","Heroes -- Juvenile fiction","Hunters -- Juvenile fiction","Kings and rulers -- Juvenile fiction","Mythology -- Juvenile fiction","Mythology, Greek -- Juvenile literature","Natural history -- Juvenile fiction","Voyages and travels -- Juvenile fiction","War -- Juvenile fiction"],"text":"Produced by Al Haines.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Cover art]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: PYRRHUS FINDS PHILOCTETES IN A CAVE.]\n\n\n\n\n                       _HEROES OF THE OLDEN TIME_\n\n                               *A STORY*\n\n                                  *OF*\n\n                            *THE GOLDEN AGE*\n\n\n                                   BY\n\n                             JAMES BALDWIN\n\n\n\n                      _Illustrated by Howard Pyle_\n\n\n\n                                NEW YORK\n                        CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS\n                                  1927\n\n\n\n\n                       COPYRIGHT, 1887, 1888, BY\n                        CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS\n\n                          COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY\n                             JAMES BALDWIN\n\n                Printed in the United States of America\n\n\n\n\n                                TO MAY.\n\n\n\n\n                            *THE FORE WORD.*\n\n\nYou have heard of Homer, and of the two wonderful poems, the Iliad and\nthe Odyssey, which bear his name.  No one knows whether these poems were\ncomposed by Homer, or whether they are the work of many different poets.\nAnd, in fact, it matters very little about their authorship.  Everybody\nagrees that they are the grandest poems ever sung or written or read in\nthis world; and yet, how few persons, comparatively, have read them, or\nknow any thing about them except at second-hand!  Homer commences his\nstory, not at the beginning, but \"in the midst of things;\" hence, when\none starts out to read the Iliad without having made some special\npreparation beforehand, he finds it hard to understand, and is tempted,\nin despair, to stop at the end of the first book.  Many people are,\ntherefore, content to admire the great masterpiece of poetry and\nstory-telling simply because others admire it, and not because they have\nany personal acquaintance with it.\n\nNow, it is not my purpose to give you a \"simplified version\" of the\nIliad or the Odyssey.  There are already many such versions; but the\nbest way for you, or any one else, to read Homer, is _to read Homer_.\nIf you do not understand Greek, you can read him in one of the many\nEnglish translations.  You will find much of the spirit of the original\nin the translations by Bryant, by Lord Derby, and by old George Chapman,\nas well as in the admirable prose rendering by Butcher and Lang; but you\ncan get none of it in any so-called simplified version.\n\nMy object in writing this \"Story of the Golden Age\" has been to pave the\nway, if I dare say it, to an enjoyable reading of Homer, either in\ntranslations or in the original.  I have taken the various legends\nrelating to the causes of the Trojan war, and, by assuming certain\nprivileges never yet denied to story-tellers, have woven all into one\ncontinuous narrative, ending where Homer's story begins.  The hero of\nthe Odyssey--a character not always to be admired or commended--is my\nhero.  And, in telling the story of his boyhood and youth, I have taken\nthe opportunity to repeat, for your enjoyment, some of the most\nbeautiful of the old Greek myths.  If I have, now and then, given them a\ncoloring slightly different from the original, you will remember that\nsuch is the right of the story-teller, the poet, and the artist.  The\nessential features of the stories remain unchanged.  I have, all along,\ndrawn freely from the old tragedians, and now and then from Homer\nhimself; nor have I thought it necessary in every instance to mention\nauthorities, or to apologize for an occasional close imitation of some\nof the best translations.  The pictures of old Greek life have, in the\nmain, been derived from the Iliad and the Odyssey, and will, I hope,\nhelp you to a better understanding of those poems when you come to make\nacquaintance directly with them.\n\nShould you become interested in the \"Story of the Golden Age,\" as it is\nhere related, do not be disappointed by its somewhat abrupt ending; for\nyou will find it continued by the master-poet of all ages, in a manner\nboth inimitable and unapproachable.  If you are pleased with the\ndiscourse of the porter at the gate, how much greater shall be your\ndelight when you stand in the palace of the king, and hearken to the\nsong of the royal minstrel!\n\n\n\n\n                              *CONTENTS.*\n\n\nTHE FORE WORD\n\nADVENTURE\n\n      I. A Glimpse of the World\n     II. A Voyage on the Sea\n    III. The Centre of the Earth\n     IV. The Silver-Bowed Apollo\n      V. The King of Cattle Thieves\n     VI. Two Famous Boar Hunts\n    VII. At Old Cheiron's School\n   VIII. The Golden Apple\n     IX. The Swineherd\n      X. The Sea Robbers of Messene\n     XI. The Bow of Eurytus\n    XII. The Most Beautiful Woman in the World\n   XIII. A Race for a Wife\n    XIV. How a Great Hero met His Master\n     XV. Long Live the King\n    XVI. The Children of Prometheus\n   XVII. A Cause of War\n  XVIII. An Unwilling Hero\n    XIX. Heroes in Strange Garb\n     XX. Becalmed at Aulis\n    XXI. The Long Siege\n\nTHE AFTER WORD\n\nNOTES\n\nINDEX TO PROPER NAMES\n\n\n\n\n                        *LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.*\n\n\nPyrrhus Finds Philoctetes in a Cave . . . Frontispiece\n\nOdysseus and His Mother\n\nApollo Slaying the Python\n\nMeleager Refuses to Help in the Defence of the City\n\nThe Silver-Footed Thetis Rising from the Waves\n\nThe Swineherd Telling His Story to Odysseus\n\nAlpheus and Arethusa\n\nOdysseus Advises King Tyndareus Concerning Helen's Suitors\n\nDeianeira and the Dying Centaur Nessus\n\nPrometheus\n\nPalamedes Tests the Madness of Odysseus\n\nOdysseus and Menelaus Persuading Agamemnon to Sacrifice Iphigenia\n\n\n                               _*MAPS.*_\n\nA Glimpse of the World. (The Map which Phemius Drew in the Sand)\n\nGeneral Map of Greece\n\n\n\n\n                      *A STORY OF THE GOLDEN AGE.*\n\n\n                            _*ADVENTURE I.*_\n\n                       *A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD.*\n\n\nTo the simple-hearted folk who dwelt in that island three thousand years\nago, there was never a sweeter spot than sea-girt Ithaca.  Rocky and\nrugged though it may have seemed, yet it was indeed a smiling land\nembosomed in the laughing sea.  There the air was always mild and pure,\nand balmy with the breath of blossoms; the sun looked kindly down from a\ncloudless sky, and storms seldom broke the quiet ripple of the waters\nwhich bathed the shores of that island home. On every side but one, the\nland rose straight up out of the deep sea to meet the feet of craggy\nhills and mountains crowned with woods.  Between the heights were many\nnarrow dells green with orchards; while the gentler slopes were covered\nwith vineyards, and the steeps above them gave pasturage to flocks of\nlong-wooled sheep and mountain-climbing goats.\n\nOn that side of the island which lay nearest the rising sun, there was a\nfine, deep harbor; for there the shore bent inward, and only a narrow\nneck of land lay between the eastern waters and the western sea.  Close\non either side of this harbor arose two mountains, Neritus and Nereius,\nwhich stood like giant watchmen overlooking land and sea and warding\nharm away; and on the neck, midway between these mountains, was the\nking's white palace, roomy and large, with blossoming orchards to the\nright and the left, and broad lawns in front, sloping down to the\nwater's edge.\n\nHere, many hundreds of years ago, lived Laertes--a man of simple habits,\nwho thought his little island home a kingdom large enough, and never\nsighed for a greater.  Not many men had seen so much of the world as he;\nfor he had been to Colchis with Jason and the Argonauts, and his feet\nhad trod the streets of every city in Hellas.  Yet in all his wanderings\nhe had seen no fairer land than rocky Ithaca.  His eyes had been dazzled\nby the brightness of the Golden Fleece, and the kings of Argos and of\nIlios had shown him the gold and gems of their treasure-houses.  Yet\nwhat cared he for wealth other than that which his flocks and vineyards\nyielded him?  There was hardly a day but that he might be seen in the\nfields guiding his plough, or training his vines, or in his orchards\npruning his trees, or gathering the mellow fruit.  He had all the good\ngifts of life that any man needs; and for them he never failed to thank\nthe great Giver, nor to render praises to the powers above.  His queen,\nfair Anticleia, daughter of the aged chief Autolycus, was a true\nhousewife, overseeing the maidens at their tasks, busying herself with\nthe distaff and the spindle, or plying the shuttle at the loom; and many\nwere the garments, rich with finest needlework, which her own fair\nfingers had fashioned.\n\nTo Laertes and Anticleia one child had been born,--a son, who, they\nhoped, would live to bring renown to Ithaca.  This boy, as he grew,\nbecame strong in body and mind far beyond his playfellows; and those who\nknew him wondered at the shrewdness of his speech no less than at the\nstrength and suppleness of his limbs. And yet he was small of stature,\nand neither in face nor in figure was he adorned with any of Apollo's\ngrace. On the day that he was twelve years old, he stood with his tutor,\nthe bard Phemius, on the top of Mount Neritus; below him, spread out\nlike a great map, lay what was to him the whole world.  Northward, as\nfar as his eyes could see, there were islands great and small; and among\nthem Phemius pointed out Taphos, the home of a sea-faring race, where\nAnchialus, chief of warriors, ruled.  Eastward were other isles, and the\nlow-lying shores of Acarnania, so far away that they seemed mere lines\nof hazy green between the purple waters and the azure sky.  Southward\nbeyond Samos were the wooded heights of Zacynthus, and the sea-paths\nwhich led to Pylos and distant Crete.  Westward was the great sea,\nstretching away and away to the region of the setting sun; the watery\nkingdom of Poseidon, full of strange beings and unknown dangers,--a sea\nupon which none but the bravest mariners dared launch their ships.\n\nThe boy had often looked upon these scenes of beauty and mystery, but\nto-day his heart was stirred with an unwonted feeling of awe and of\nwonder at the greatness and grandeur of the world as it thus lay around\nhim.  Tears filled his eyes as he turned to his tutor. \"How kind it was\nof the Being who made this pleasant earth, to set our own sunny Ithaca\nright in the centre of it, and to cover it all over with a blue dome\nlike a tent!  But tell me, do people live in all those lands that we\nsee?  I know that there are men dwelling in Zacynthus and in the little\nislands of the eastern sea; for their fishermen often come to Ithaca,\nand I have talked with them.  And I have heard my father tell of his\nwonderful voyage to Colchis, which is in the region of the rising sun;\nand my mother often speaks of her old home in Parnassus, which also is\nfar away towards the dawn.  Is it true that there are men, women, and\nchildren, living in lands which we cannot see? and do the great powers\nabove us care for them as for the good people of Ithaca?  And is there\nanywhere another king so great as my father Laertes, or another kingdom\nso rich and happy as his?\"\n\nThen Phemius told the lad all about the land of the Hellenes beyond the\nnarrow sea; and, in the sand at their feet, he drew with a stick a map\nof all the countries known to him.\n\n[Illustration: A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD.\nThe Map which Phemius drew in the Sand.]\n\n\"We cannot see half of the world from this spot,\" said the bard,\n\"neither is Ithaca the centre of it, as it seems to you.  I will draw a\npicture of it here in the sand, and show you where lies every land and\nevery sea.  Right here in the very centre,\" said he, heaping up a pile\nof sand into the shape of a mountain,--\"right here in the very centre of\nthe world is Mount Parnassus, the home of the Muses; and in its shadow\nis sacred Delphi, where stands Apollo's temple.  South of Parnassus is\nthe Bay of Crissa, sometimes called the Corinthian Gulf.  The traveller\nwho sails westwardly through those waters will have on his right hand\nthe pleasant hills and dales of AEtolia and the wooded lands of Calydon;\nwhile on his left will rise the rugged mountains of Achaia, and the\ngentler slopes of Elis. Here to the south of Elis are Messene, and sandy\nPylos where godlike Nestor and his aged father Neleus reign. Here, to\nthe east, is Arcadia, a land of green pastures and sweet contentment,\nunwashed by any sea; and next to it is Argolis,--rich in horses, but\nrichest of all in noble men,--and Lacedaemon in Laconia, famous for its\nwarriors and its beautiful women.  Far to the north of Parnassus is\nMount Olympus, the heaven-towering home of Zeus, and the place where the\ngods and goddesses hold their councils.\"\n\nThen Phemius, as he was often wont to do, began to put his words into\nthe form of music; and he sang a song of the world as he supposed it to\nbe.  He sang of Helios the Sun, and of his flaming chariot and his four\nwhite steeds, and of the wonderful journey which he makes every day\nabove the earth; and he sang of the snowy mountains of Caucasus in the\ndistant east; and of the gardens of the Hesperides even farther to the\nwestward; and of the land of the Hyperboreans, which lies beyond the\nnorthern mountains; and of the sunny climes where live the Ethiopians,\nthe farthest distant of all earth's dwellers.  Then he sang of the\nflowing stream of Ocean which encircles all lands in its embrace; and,\nlastly, of the Islands of the Blest, where fair-haired Rhadamanthus\nrules, and where there is neither snow nor beating rains, but\neverlasting spring, and breezes balmy with the breath of life.\n\n\"O Phemius!\" cried the boy, as the bard laid aside his harp, \"I never\nknew that the world was so large. Can it be that there are so many\ncountries and so many strange people beneath the same sky?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" answered Phemius, \"the world is very broad, and our Ithaca is but\none of the smallest of a thousand lands upon which Helios smiles, as he\nmakes his daily journey through the skies.  It is not given to one man\nto know all these lands; and happiest is he whose only care is for his\nhome, deeming it the centre around which the world is built.\"\n\n\"If only the half of what you have told me be true,\" said the boy, \"I\ncannot rest until I have seen some of those strange lands, and learned\nmore about the wonderful beings which live in them.  I cannot bear to\nthink of being always shut up within the narrow bounds of little\nIthaca.\"\n\n\"My dear boy,\" said Phemius, laughing, \"your mind has been greatly\nchanged within the past few moments. When we came here, a little while\nago, you thought that Neritus was the grandest mountain in the world,\nand that Ithaca was the centre round which the earth was built.  Then\nyou were cheerful and contented; but now you are restless and unhappy,\nbecause you have learned of possibilities such as, hitherto, you had not\ndreamed about.  Your eyes have been opened to see and to know the world\nas it is, and you are no longer satisfied with that which Ithaca can\ngive you.\"\n\n\"But why did you not tell me these things before?\" asked the boy.\n\n\"It was your mother's wish,\" answered the bard, \"that you should not\nknow them until to-day.  Do you remember what day this is?\"\n\n\"It is my twelfth birthday.  And I remember, too, that there was a\npromise made to my grandfather, that when I was twelve years old I\nshould visit him in his strong halls on Mount Parnassus.  I mean to ask\nmy mother about it at once.\"\n\nAnd without waiting for another word from Phemius, the lad ran hurriedly\ndown the steep pathway, and was soon at the foot of the mountain.\nAcross the fields he hastened, and through the vineyards where the\nvines, trained by his father's own hand, were already hanging heavy with\ngrapes.  He found his mother in the inner hall, sitting before the\nhearth, and twisting from her distaff threads of bright sea-purple,\nwhile her maidens plied their tasks around her.  He knelt upon the\nmarble floor, and gently clasped his mother's knees.\n\n\"Mother,\" he said, \"I come to ask a long-promised boon of you.\"\n\n\"What is it, my son?\" asked the queen, laying aside her distaff.  \"If\nthere be any thing in Ithaca that I can give you, you shall surely have\nit.\"\n\n\"I want nothing in Ithaca,\" answered the boy; \"I want to see more of\nthis great world than I ever yet have known.  And now that I am twelve\nyears old, you surely will not forget the promise, long since made, that\nI should spend the summer with my grandfather at Parnassus.  Let me go\nvery soon, I pray; for I tire of this narrow Ithaca.\"\n\n[Illustration: ODYSSEUS AND HIS MOTHER.]\n\nThe queen's eyes filled with tears as she answered, \"You shall have your\nwish, my son.  The promise given both to you and to my father must be\nfulfilled.  For, when you were but a little babe, Autolycus came to\nIthaca.  And one evening, as he feasted at your father's table, your\nnurse, Dame Eurycleia, brought you into the hall, and put you into his\narms.  'Give this dear babe, O king, a name,' said she.  'He is thy\ndaughter's son, the heir to Ithaca's rich realm; and we hope that he\nwill live to make his name and thine remembered.'\n\n\"Then Autolycus smiled, and gently dandled you upon his knees.  'My\ndaughter, and my daughter's lord,' said he, 'let this child's name be\nOdysseus; for he shall visit many lands and climes, and wander long upon\nthe tossing sea.  Yet wheresoever the Fates may drive him, his heart\nwill ever turn to Ithaca his home.  Call him by the name which I have\ngiven; and when his twelfth birthday shall have passed, send him to my\nstrong halls in the shadow of Parnassus, where his mother in her\ngirlhood dwelt.  Then I will share my riches with him, and send him back\nto Ithaca rejoicing!'  So spake my father, great Autolycus; and before\nwe arose from that feast, we pledged our word that it should be with you\neven as he wished.  And your name, Odysseus, has every day recalled to\nmind that feast and our binding words.\"\n\n\"Oh that I could go at once, dear mother!\" said Odysseus, kissing her\ntears away.  \"I would come home again very soon.  I would stay long\nenough to have the blessing of my kingly grandfather; I would climb\nParnassus, and listen to the sweet music of the Muses; I would drink one\ndraught from the Castalian spring of which you have so often told me; I\nwould ramble one day among the groves and glens, that perchance I might\ncatch a glimpse of Apollo or of his huntress sister Artemis; and then I\nwould hasten back to Ithaca, and would never leave you again.\"\n\n\"My son,\" then said Laertes, who had come unheard into the hall, and had\nlistened to the boy's earnest words,--\"my son, you shall have your wish,\nfor I know that the Fates have ordered it so.  We have long looked\nforward to this day, and for weeks past we have been planning for your\njourney.  My stanchest ship is ready to carry you over the sea, and\nneeds only to be launched into the bay.  Twelve strong oarsmen are\nsitting now upon the beach, waiting for orders to embark. To-morrow,\nwith the bard Phemius as your friend and guide, you may set forth on\nyour voyage to Parnassus. Let us go down to the shore at once, and offer\nprayers to Poseidon, ruler of the sea, that he may grant you favoring\nwinds and a happy voyage.\"\n\nOdysseus kissed his mother again, and, turning, followed his father from\nthe hall.\n\nThen Anticleia rose, and bade the maidens hasten to make ready the\nevening meal; but she herself went weeping to her own chamber, there to\nchoose the garments which her son should take with him upon his journey.\nWarm robes of wool, and a broidered tunic which she with her own hands\nhad spun and woven, she folded and laid with care in a little wooden\nchest; and with them she placed many a little comfort, fruit and\nsweetmeats, such as she rightly deemed would please the lad.  Then when\nshe had closed the lid, she threw a strong cord around the chest, and\ntied it firmly down. This done, she raised her eyes towards heaven, and\nlifting up her hands, she prayed to Pallas Athene:--\n\n\"O queen of the air and sky, hearken to my prayer, and help me lay aside\nthe doubting fears which creep into my mind, and cause these tears to\nflow.  For now my boy, unused to hardships, and knowing nothing of the\nworld, is to be sent forth on a long and dangerous voyage.  I tremble\nlest evil overtake him; but more I fear, that, with the lawless men of\nmy father's household, he shall forget his mother's teachings, and stray\nfrom the path of duty.  Do thou, O queen, go with him as his guide and\nguard, keep him from harm, and bring him safe again to Ithaca and his\nloving mother's arms.\"\n\nMeanwhile Laertes and the men of Ithaca stood upon the beach, and\noffered up two choice oxen to Poseidon, ruler of the sea; and they\nprayed him that he would vouchsafe favoring winds and quiet waters and a\nsafe journey to the bold voyagers who to-morrow would launch their ship\nupon the deep.  And when the sun began to sink low down in the west,\nsome sought their homes, and others went up to the king's white palace\nto tarry until after the evening meal.\n\nCheerful was the feast; and as the merry jest went round, no one seemed\nmore free from care than King Laertes.  And when all had eaten of the\nfood, and had tasted of the red wine made from the king's own vintage,\nthe bard Phemius arose, and tuned his harp, and sang many sweet and\nwonderful songs.  He sang of the beginning of things; of the\nbroad-breasted Earth, the mother of created beings; of the sky, and the\nsea, and the mountains; of the mighty race of Titans,--giants who once\nruled the earth; of great Atlas, who holds the sky-dome upon his\nshoulders; of Cronos and old Oceanus; of the war which for ten years\nraged on Mount Olympus, until Zeus hurled his unfeeling father Cronos\nfrom the throne, and seized the sceptre for himself.\n\nWhen Phemius ended his singing, the guests withdrew from the hall, and\neach went silently to his own home; and Odysseus, having kissed his dear\nfather and mother, went thoughtfully to his sleeping-room high up above\nthe great hall.  With him went his nurse, Dame Eurycleia, carrying the\ntorches.  She had been a princess once; but hard fate and cruel war had\noverthrown her father's kingdom, and had sent her forth a captive and a\nslave.  Laertes had bought her of her captors for a hundred oxen, and\nhad given her a place of honor in his household next to Anticleia.  She\nloved Odysseus as she would love her own dear child; for, since his\nbirth, she had nursed and cared for him. She now, as was her wont,\nlighted him to his chamber; she laid back the soft coverings of his bed;\nshe smoothed the fleeces, and hung his tunic within easy reach.  Then\nwith kind words of farewell for the night, she quietly withdrew, and\nclosed the door, and pulled the thong outside which turned the fastening\nlatch. Odysseus wrapped himself among the fleeces of his bed, and soon\nwas lost in slumber.[1]\n\n\n[1] See Note 1 at the end of this volume.\n\n\n\n\n                           _*ADVENTURE II.*_\n\n                         *A VOYAGE ON THE SEA.*\n\n\nEarly the next morning, while yet the dawn was waiting for the sun,\nOdysseus arose and hastened to make ready for his journey.  The little\ngalley which was to carry him across the sea had been already launched,\nand was floating close to the shore; and the oarsmen stood upon the\nbeach impatient to begin the voyage.  The sea-stores, and the little\nchest in which the lad's wardrobe lay, were brought on board and placed\nbeneath the rowers' benches.  The old men of Ithaca, and the boys and\nthe maidens, hurried down to the shore, that they might bid the voyagers\nGod-speed. Odysseus, when all was ready, spoke a few last kind words to\nhis mother and sage Laertes, and then with a swelling heart went up the\nvessel's side, and sat down in the stern.  And Phemius the bard, holding\nhis sweet-toned harp, followed him, and took his place in the prow.\nThen the sailors loosed the moorings, and went on board, and, sitting on\nthe rowers' benches, wielded the long oars; and the little vessel,\ndriven by their well-timed strokes, turned slowly about, and then glided\nsmoothly across the bay; and the eyes of all on shore were wet with\ntears as they prayed the rulers of the air and the sea that the voyagers\nmight reach their wished-for port in safety, and in due time come back\nunharmed to Ithaca.\n\nNo sooner had the vessel reached the open sea, than Pallas Athene sent\nafter it a gentle west wind to urge it on its way.  As the soft breeze,\nladen with the perfumes of blossoming orchards, stirred the water into\nrippling waves, Phemius bade the rowers lay aside their oars, and hoist\nthe sail.  They heeded his behest, and lifting high the slender mast,\nthey bound it in its place; then they stretched aloft the broad white\nsail, and the west wind caught and filled it, and drove the little bark\ncheerily over the waves.  And the grateful crew sat down upon the\nbenches, and with Odysseus and Phemius the bard, they joined in offering\nheartfelt thanks to Pallas Athene, who had so kindly prospered them. And\nby and by Phemius played soft melodies on his harp, such as the\nsea-nymphs liked to hear.  And all that summer day the breezes whispered\nin the rigging, and the white waves danced in the vessel's wake, and the\nvoyagers sped happily on their way.\n\nIn the afternoon, when they had begun somewhat to tire of the voyage,\nPhemius asked Odysseus what they should do to lighten the passing hours.\n\n\"Tell us some story of the olden time,\" said Odysseus. And the bard, who\nwas never better pleased than when recounting some wonderful tale, sat\ndown in the midships, where the oarsmen could readily hear him, and told\nthe strange story of Phaethon, the rash son of Helios Hyperion.\n\n\n\"Among the immortals who give good gifts to men, there is no one more\nkind than Helios, the bestower of light and heat.  Every morning when\nthe Dawn with her rosy fingers illumes the eastern sky, good Helios\nrises from his golden couch, and from their pasture calls his milk-white\nsteeds.  By name he calls them,--\n\n\"'Eos, AEthon, Bronte, Astrape!'\n\n\"Each hears his master's voice, and comes obedient. Then about their\nbright manes and his own yellow locks he twines wreaths of\nsweet-smelling flowers,--amaranths and daffodils and asphodels from the\nheavenly gardens.  And the Hours come and harness the steeds to the\nburning sun-car, and put the reins into Helios Hyperion's hands.  He\nmounts to his place, he speaks,--and the winged team soars upward into\nthe morning air; and all earth's children awake, and give thanks to the\nruler of the Sun for the new day which smiles down upon them.\n\n\"Hour after hour, with steady hand, Helios guides his steeds; and the\nflaming car is borne along the sun-road through the sky.  And when the\nday's work is done, and sable night comes creeping over the earth, the\nsteeds, the car, and the driver sink softly down to the western Ocean's\nstream, where a golden vessel waits to bear them back again, swiftly and\nunseen, to the dwelling of the Sun in the east.  There, under the\nhome-roof, Helios greets his mother and his wife and his dear children;\nand there he rests until the Dawn again leaves old Ocean's bed, and\nblushing comes to bid him journey forth anew.\n\n\"One son had Helios, Phaethon the Gleaming, and among the children of\nmen there was no one more fair. And the great heart of Helios beat with\nlove for his earth-child, and he gave him rich gifts, and kept nothing\nfrom him.\n\n\"And Phaethon, as he grew up, became as proud as he was fair, and\nwherever he went he boasted of his kinship to the Sun; and men when they\nlooked upon his matchless form and his radiant features believed his\nwords, and honored him as the heir of Helios Hyperion. But one Epaphos,\na son of Zeus, sneered.\n\n\"'Thou a child of Helios!' he said; 'what folly! Thou canst show nothing\nwherewith to prove thy kinship, save thy fair face and thy yellow hair;\nand there are many maidens in Hellas who have those, and are as\nbeautiful as thou.  Manly grace and handsome features are indeed the\ngifts of the gods; but it is by godlike deeds alone that one can prove\nhis kinship to the immortals.  While Helios Hyperion--thy father, as\nthou wouldst have it--guides his chariot above the clouds, and showers\nblessings upon the earth, what dost thou do?  What, indeed, but dally\nwith thy yellow locks, and gaze upon thy costly clothing, while all the\ntime thy feet are in the dust, and the mire of the earth holds them\nfast?  If thou hast kinship with the gods, prove it by doing the deeds\nof the gods!  If thou art Helios Hyperion's son, guide for one day his\nchariot through the skies.'\n\n\"Thus spoke Epaphos.  And the mind of Phaethon was filled with lofty\ndreams; and, turning away from the taunting tempter, he hastened to his\nfather's house.\n\n\"Never-tiring Helios, with his steeds and car, had just finished the\ncourse of another day; and with words of warmest love he greeted his\nearth-born son.\n\n\"'Dear Phaethon,' he said, 'what errand brings thee hither at this hour,\nwhen the sons of men find rest in slumber?  Is there any good gift that\nthou wouldst have?  Say what it is, and it shall be thine.'\n\n\"And Phaethon wept.  And he said, 'Father, there are those who say that\nI am not thy son.  Give me, I pray thee, a token whereby I can prove my\nkinship to thee.'\n\n\"And Helios answered, 'Mine it is to labor every day, and short is the\nrest I have, that so earth's children may have light and life.  Yet tell\nme what token thou cravest, and I swear that I will give it thee.'\n\n\"'Father Helios,' said the youth, 'this is the token that I ask: Let me\nsit in thy place to-morrow, and drive thy steeds along the pathway of\nthe skies.'\n\n\"Then was the heart of Helios full sad, and he said to Phaethon, 'My\nchild, thou knowest not what thou askest.  Thou art not like the gods;\nand there lives no man who can drive my steeds, or guide the sun-car\nthrough the skies.  I pray thee ask some other boon.'\n\n\"But Phaethon would not.\n\n\"'I will have this boon or none.  I will drive thy steeds to-morrow, and\nthereby make proof of my birthright.'\n\n\"Then Helios pleaded long with his son that he would not aspire to deeds\ntoo great for weak man to undertake.  But wayward Phaethon would not\nhear. And when the Dawn peeped forth, and the Hours harnessed the steeds\nto the car, his father sadly gave the reins into his hands.\n\n\"'My love for thee cries out, \"Refrain, refrain!\" Yet for my oath's\nsake, I grant thy wish.'\n\n\"And he hid his face, and wept.\n\n\"And Phaethon leaped into the car, and lashed the steeds with his whip.\nUp they sprang, and swift as a storm cloud they sped high into the blue\nvault of heaven.  For well did they know that an unskilled hand held the\nreins, and proudly they scorned his control.\n\n\"The haughty heart of Phaethon sank within him, and all his courage\nfailed; and the long reins dropped from his nerveless grasp.\n\n\"'Glorious father,' he cried in agony, 'thy words were true.  Would that\nI had hearkened to thy warning, and obeyed!'\n\n\"And the sun-steeds, mad with their new-gained freedom, wildly careered\nin mid-heaven, and then plunged downward towards the earth.  Close to\nthe peopled plains they dashed and soared, dragging the car behind them.\nThe parched earth smoked; the rivers turned to vaporous clouds; the\ntrees shook off their scorched leaves and died; and men and beasts hid\nin the caves and rocky clefts, and there perished with thirst and the\nunbearable heat.\n\n\"'O Father Zeus!' prayed Mother Earth, 'send help to thy children, or\nthey perish through this man's presumptuous folly!'\n\n\"Then the Thunderer from his high seat hurled his dread bolts, and\nunhappy Phaethon fell headlong from the car; and the fire-breathing\nsteeds, affrighted but obedient, hastened back to the pastures of Helios\non the shores of old Ocean's stream.\n\n\"Phaethon fell into the river which men call Eridanos, and his\nbroken-hearted sisters wept for him; and as they stood upon the banks\nand bewailed his unhappy fate, Father Zeus in pity changed them into\ntall green poplars; and their tears, falling into the river, were\nhardened into precious yellow amber.  But the daughters of Hesperus,\nthrough whose country this river flows, built for the fair hero a marble\ntomb, close by the sounding sea.  And they sang a song about Phaethon,\nand said that although he had been hurled to the earth by the\nthunderbolts of angry Zeus, yet he died not without honor, for he had\nhis heart set on the doing of great deeds.\"\n\nAs Phemius ended his story, Odysseus, who had been too intent upon\nlistening to look around him, raised his eyes and uttered a cry of joy;\nfor he saw that they had left the open sea behind them, and were\nentering the long and narrow gulf between Achaia and the AEtolian land.\nThe oarsmen, who, too, had been earnest listeners, sprang quickly to\ntheir places, and hastened to ply their long oars; for now the breeze\nhad begun to slacken, and the sail hung limp and useless upon the ship's\nmast.  Keeping close to the northern shore they rounded capes and\nheadlands, and skirted the mouths of deep inlets, where Phemius said\nstrange monsters often lurked in wait for unwary or belated seafarers.\nBut they passed all these places safely, and saw no living creature,\nsave some flocks of sea-birds flying among the cliffs, and one lone,\nfrightened fisherman, who left his net upon the sands, and ran to hide\nhimself in the thickets of underbrush which skirted the beach.\n\nLate in the day they came to the mouth of a little harbor which, like\none in Ithaca, was a favored haunt of old Phorcys the elder of the sea.\nHere the captain of the oarsmen said they must tarry for the night, for\nthe sun was already sinking in the west, and after nightfall no ship\ncould be guided with safety along these shores.  A narrow strait between\nhigh cliffs led into the little haven, which was so sheltered from the\nwinds that vessels could ride there without their hawsers, even though\nfierce storms might rage upon the sea outside.  Through this strait the\nship was guided, urged by the strong arms of the rowers; and so swiftly\ndid it glide across the harbor that it was driven upon the shelving\nbeach at the farther side, and stopped not until it lay full half its\nlength high upon the warm, dry sand.\n\nThen the crew lifted out their store of food, and their vessels for\ncooking; and while some took their bows and went in search of game,\nothers kindled a fire, and hastened to make ready the evening meal.\nOdysseus and his tutor, when they had climbed out of the ship, sauntered\nalong the beach, intent to know what kind of place it was to which\nfortune had thus brought them.  They found that it was in all things a\npattern and counterpart of the little bay of Phorcys in their own\nIthaca.[1]\n\n\n[1] See the description of this bay, in the Odyssey, Book xiii. l. 102.\n\n\nNear the head of the harbor grew an olive tree, beneath whose spreading\nbranches there was a cave, in which, men said, the Naiads sometimes\ndwelt.  In this cave were great bowls and jars and two-eared pitchers,\nall of stone; and in the clefts of the rock the wild bees had built\ntheir comb, and filled it with yellow honey. In this cave, too, were\nlong looms on which, from their spindles wrought of stone, the Naiads\nwere thought to weave their purple robes.  Close by the looms, a torrent\nof sweet water gushed from the rock, and flowed in crystal streams down\ninto the bay.  Two doorways opened into the cave: one from the north,\nthrough which mortal man might enter, and one from the south, kept as\nthe pathway of Phorcys and the Naiads.  But Odysseus and his tutor saw\nno signs of any of these beings: it seemed as if the place had not been\nvisited for many a month.\n\nAfter the voyagers had partaken of their meal, they sat for a long time\naround the blazing fire upon the beach, and each told some marvellous\nstory of the sea. For their thoughts were all upon the wonders of the\ndeep.\n\n\"We should not speak of Poseidon, the king of waters,\" said the captain,\n\"save with fear upon our lips, and reverence in our hearts.  For he it\nis who rules the sea, as his brother Zeus controls the land; and no one\ndares to dispute his right.  Once, when sailing on the AEgaean Sea, I\nlooked down into the depths, and saw his lordly palace,--a glittering,\ngolden mansion, built on the rocks at the bottom of the mere.  Quickly\ndid we spread our sails aloft, and the friendly breezes and our own\nstrong arms hurried us safely away from that wonderful but dangerous\nstation.  In that palace of the deep, Poseidon eats and drinks and makes\nmerry with his friends, the dwellers in the sea; and there he feeds and\ntrains his swift horses,--horses with hoofs of bronze and flowing golden\nmanes.  And when he harnesses these steeds to his chariot, and wields\nabove them his well-wrought lash of gold, you should see, as I have\nseen, how he rides in terrible majesty above the waves.  And the\ncreatures of the sea pilot him on his way, and gambol on either side of\nthe car, and follow dancing in his wake.  But when he smites the waters\nwith the trident which he always carries in his hand, the waves roll\nmountain high, the lightnings flash, and the thunders peal, and the\nearth is shaken to its very core.  Then it is that man bewails his own\nweakness, and prays to the powers above for help and succor.\"\n\n\"I have never seen the palace of Poseidon,\" said the helmsman, speaking\nslowly; \"but once, when sailing to far-off Crete, our ship was overtaken\nby a storm, and for ten days we were buffeted by winds and waves, and\ndriven into unknown seas.  After this, we vainly tried to find again our\nreckonings, but we knew not which way to turn our vessel's prow.  Then,\nwhen the storm had ended, we saw upon a sandy islet great troops of\nseals and sea-calves couched upon the beach, and basking in the warm\nrays of the sun.\n\n\"'Let us cast anchor, and wait here,' said our captain; 'for surely\nProteus, the old man of the sea who keeps Poseidon's herds, will come\nerewhile to look after these sea-beasts.'\n\n\"And he was right; for at noonday the herdsman of the sea came up out of\nthe brine, and went among his sea-calves, and counted them, and called\neach one by name.  When he was sure that not even one was missing, he\nlay down among them upon the sand.  Then we landed quickly from our\nvessel, and rushed silently upon him, and seized him with our hands.\nThe old master of magic tried hard to escape from our clutches, and did\nnot forget his cunning.  First he took the form of a long-maned lion,\nfierce and terrible; but when this did not affright us, he turned into a\nscaly serpent; then into a leopard, spotted and beautiful; then into a\nwild boar, with gnashing tusks and foaming mouth.  Seeing that by none\nof these forms he could make us loosen our grasp upon him, he took the\nshape of running water, as if to glide through our fingers; then he\nbecame a tall tree full of leaves and blossoms; and, lastly, he became\nhimself again.  And he pleaded with us for his freedom, and promised to\ntell us any thing that we desired, if we would only let him go.\n\n\"'Tell us which way we shall sail, and how far we shall go, that we may\nsurely reach the fair harbor of Crete,' said our captain.\n\n\"'Sail with the wind two days,' said the elder of the sea, 'and on the\nthird morning ye shall behold the hills of Crete, and the pleasant port\nwhich you seek.'\n\n\"Then we loosened our hold upon him, and old Proteus plunged into the\nbriny deep; and we betook ourselves to our ship, and sailed away before\nthe wind. And on the third day, as he had told us, we sighted the fair\nharbor of Crete.\"\n\nAs the helmsman ended his story, his listeners smiled; for he had told\nthem nothing but an old tale, which every seaman had learned in his\nyouth,--the story of Proteus, symbol of the ever-changing forms of\nmatter.  Just then Odysseus heard a low, plaintive murmur, seeming as if\nuttered by some lost wanderer away out upon the sea.\n\n\"What is that?\" he asked, turning towards Phemius.\n\n\"It is Glaucus, the soothsayer of the sea, lamenting that he is mortal,\"\nanswered the bard.  \"Long time ago, Glaucus was a poor fisherman who\ncast his nets into these very waters, and built his hut upon the\nAEtolian shore, not very far from the place where we now sit.  Before\nhis hut there was a green, grassy spot, where he often sat to dress the\nfish which he caught. One day he carried a basketful of half-dead fish\nto that spot, and turned them out upon the ground.  Wonderful to behold!\nEach fish took a blade of grass in its mouth, and forthwith jumped into\nthe sea.  The next day he found a hare in the woods, and gave chase to\nit. The frightened creature ran straight to the grassy plat before his\nhut, seized a green spear of grass between its lips, and dashed into the\nsea.\n\n\"'Strange what kind of grass that is!' cried Glaucus. Then he pulled up\na blade, and tasted it.  Quick as thought, he also jumped into the sea;\nand there he wanders evermore among the seaweeds and the sand and the\npebbles and the sunken rocks; and, although he has the gift of\nsoothsaying, and can tell what things are in store for mortal men, he\nmourns and laments because he cannot die.\"\n\nThen Phemius, seeing that Odysseus grew tired of his story, took up his\nharp, and touched its strings, and sang a song about old Phorcys,--the\nson of the Sea and Mother Earth,--and about his strange daughters who\ndwell in regions far remote from the homes of men.\n\nHe touched his harp lightly, and sang a sweet lullaby,--a song about the\nSirens, the fairest of all the daughters of old Phorcys.  These have\ntheir home in an enchanted island in the midst of the western sea; and\nthey sit in a green meadow by the shore, and they sing evermore of empty\npleasures and of phantoms of delight and of vain expectations.  And woe\nis the wayfaring man who hearkens to them! for by their bewitching tones\nthey lure him to his death, and never again shall he see his dear wife\nor his babes, who wait long and vainly for his home-coming. Stop thine\nears, O voyager on the sea, and listen not to the songs of the Sirens,\nsing they ever so sweetly; for the white flowers which dot the meadow\naround them are not daisies, but the bleached bones of their victims.\n\nThen Phemius smote the chords of his harp, and played a melody so weird\nand wild that Odysseus sprang to his feet, and glanced quickly around\nhim, as if he thought to see some grim and horrid shape threatening him\nfrom among the gathering shadows.  And this time the bard sang a\nstrange, tumultuous song, concerning other daughters of old\nPhorcys,--the three Gray Sisters, with shape of swan, who have but one\ntooth for all, and one common eye, and who sit forever on a barren rock\nnear the farthest shore of Ocean's stream.  Upon them the sun doth never\ncast a beam, and the moon doth never look; but, horrible and alone, they\nsit clothed in their yellow robes, and chatter threats and meaningless\ncomplaints to the waves which dash against their rock.\n\nNot far away from these monsters once sat the three Gorgons, daughters\nalso of old Phorcys.  These were clothed with bat-like wings, and horror\nsat upon their faces.  They had ringlets of snakes for hair, and their\nteeth were like the tusks of swine, and their hands were talons of\nbrass; and no mortal could ever gaze upon them and breathe again.  But\nthere came, one time, a young hero to those regions,--Perseus the\ngodlike; and he snatched the eye of the three Gray Sisters, and flung it\nfar into the depths of Lake Tritonis; and he slew Medusa, the most\nfearful of the Gorgons, and carried the head of the terror back to\nHellas with him as a trophy.\n\nThe bard chose next a gentler theme: and, as he touched his harp, the\nlisteners fancied that they heard the soft sighing of the south wind,\nstirring lazily the leaves and blossoms; they heard the plashing of\nfountains, and the rippling of water-brooks, and the songs of little\nbirds; and their minds were carried away in memory to pleasant gardens\nin a summer land.  And Phemius sang of the Hesperides, or the maidens of\nthe West, who also, men say, are the daughters of Phorcys the ancient.\nThe Hesperian land in which they dwell is a country of delight, where\nthe trees are laden with golden fruit, and every day is a sweet dream of\njoy and peace.  And the clear-voiced Hesperides sing and dance in the\nsunlight always; and their only task is to guard the golden apples which\ngrow there, and which Mother Earth gave to Here the queen upon her\nwedding day.\n\nHere Phemius paused.  Odysseus, lulled by the soft music, and overcome\nby weariness, had lain down upon the sand and fallen asleep.  At a sign\nfrom the bard, the seamen lifted him gently into the ship, and, covering\nhim with warm skins, they left him to slumber through the night.\n\n\n\n\n                           _*ADVENTURE III.*_\n\n                       *THE CENTRE OF THE EARTH.*\n\n\nThe next morning, before the sun had risen, the voyagers launched their\nship again, and sailed out of the little harbor into the long bay of\nCrissa.  And Pallas Athene sent the west wind early, to help them\nforward on their way; and they spread their sail, and instead of longer\nhugging the shore, they ventured boldly out into the middle of the bay.\nAll day long the ship held on its course, skimming swiftly through the\nwaves like a great white-winged bird; and those on board beguiled the\nhours with song and story as on the day before.  But when the evening\ncame, they were far from land; and the captain said that as the water\nwas deep, and he knew the sea quite well, they would not put into port,\nbut would sail straight on all night.  And so, when the sun had gone\ndown, and the moon had risen, flooding earth and sea with her pure, soft\nlight, Odysseus wrapped his warm cloak about him, and lay down again to\nrest upon his bed of skins between the rowers' benches.  But the\nhelmsman stood at his place, and guided the vessel over the shadowy\nwaves; and through the watches of the night the west wind filled the\nsails, and the dark keel of the little bark ploughed the waters, and\nPallas Athene blessed the voyage.\n\nWhen, at length, the third morning came, and Helios arose at summons of\nthe Dawn, Odysseus awoke.  To his great surprise, he heard no longer the\nrippling of the waves upon the vessel's sides, nor the flapping of the\nsail in the wind, nor yet the rhythmic dipping of the oars into the sea.\nHe listened, and the sound of merry laughter came to his ears, and he\nheard the twittering of many birds, and the far-away bleating of little\nlambs.  He rubbed his eyes, and sat up, and looked about him.  The ship\nwas no longer floating on the water, but had been drawn high up on a\nsandy beach; and the crew were sitting beneath an olive tree, at no\ngreat distance from the shore, listening to the melodies with which a\nstrangely-garbed shepherd welcomed on his flute the coming of another\nday.\n\nOdysseus arose quickly and leaped out upon the beach.  Then it was that\na scene of beauty and quiet grandeur met his gaze,--a scene, the like of\nwhich had never entered his thoughts nor visited his dreams.  He saw, a\nfew miles to the northward, a group of high mountains whose summits\ntowered above the clouds; and highest among them all were twin peaks\nwhose snow-crowned tops seemed but little lower than the skies\nthemselves.  And as the light of the newly risen sun gilded the gray\ncrags, and painted the rocky slopes, and shone bright among the wooded\nuplands, the whole scene appeared like a living picture, glorious with\npurple and gold and azure, and brilliant with sparkling gems.\n\n\"Is it not truly a fitting place for the home of beauty and music, the\ndwelling of Apollo, and the favored haunt of the Muses?\" asked Phemius,\ndrawing near, and observing the boy's wondering delight.\n\n\"Indeed it is,\" said Odysseus, afraid to turn his eyes away, lest the\nenchanting vision should vanish like a dream.  \"But is that mountain\nreally Parnassus, and is our journey so nearly at an end?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" answered the bard, \"that peak which towers highest toward the sky\nis great Parnassus, the centre of the earth; and in the rocky cleft\nwhich you can barely see between the twin mountains, stands sacred\nDelphi and the favored temple of Apollo.  Lower down, and on the other\nside of the mountain, is the white-halled dwelling of old Autolycus,\nyour mother's father. Although the mountain seems so near, it is yet a\nlong and toilsome journey thither,--a journey which we must make on\nfoot, and by pathways none the safest. Come, let us join the sailors\nunder the olive tree; and when we have breakfasted, we will begin our\njourney to Parnassus.\"\n\nThe strange shepherd had killed the fattest sheep of his flock, and had\nroasted the choicest parts upon a bed of burning coals; and when\nOdysseus and his tutor came to the olive tree, they found a breakfast\nfit indeed for kings, set out ready before them.\n\n\"Welcome, noble strangers,\" said the shepherd; \"welcome to the land most\nloved of the Muses.  I give you of the best of all that I have, and I am\nready to serve you and do your bidding.\"\n\nPhemius thanked the shepherd for his kindness; and while they sat upon\nthe grass, and ate of the pleasant food which had been provided, he\nasked the simple swain many questions about Parnassus.\n\n\"I have heard that Parnassus is the hub around which the great\nearth-wheel is built.  Is it really true?\"\n\n\"A long, long time ago,\" answered the man, \"there were neither any\nshepherds nor sheep in Hellas, and not even the gods knew where the\ncentre of the earth had been put.  Some said that it was at Mount\nOlympus, where Zeus sits in his great house with all the deathless ones\naround him.  Others said that it was in Achaia; and others still, in\nArcadia, now the land of shepherds; and some, who, it seems to me, had\nlost their wits, said that it was not in Hellas at all, but in a strange\nland beyond the western sea.  In order that he might know the truth,\ngreat Zeus one day took two eagles, both of the same strength and\nswiftness, and said, 'These birds shall tell us what even the gods do\nnot know.'  Then he carried one of the eagles to the far east, where the\nDawn rises out of Ocean's bed; and he carried the other to the far west\nwhere Helios and his sun-car sink into the waves; and he clapped his\nhands together, and the thunder rolled, and the swift birds flew at the\nsame moment to meet each other; and right above the spot where Delphi\nstands, they came together, beak to beak, and both fell dead to the\nground.  'Behold! there is the centre of the earth,' said Zeus.  And all\nthe gods agreed that he was right.\"\n\n\"Do you know the best and shortest road to Delphi?\" asked Phemius.\n\n\"No one knows it better than I,\" was the answer. \"When I was a boy I fed\nmy sheep at the foot of Parnassus; and my father and grandfather lived\nthere, long before the town of Delphi was built, or there was any temple\nthere for Apollo.  Shall I tell you how men came to build a temple at\nthat spot?\"\n\n\"Yes, tell us,\" said Odysseus.  \"I am anxious to know all about it.\"\n\n\"You must not repeat my story to the priests at Delphi,\" said the\nshepherd, speaking now in a lower tone.  \"For they have quite a\ndifferent way of telling it, and they would say that I have spoken\nlightly of sacred things.  There was a time when only shepherds lived on\nthe mountain slopes, and there were neither priests nor warriors nor\nrobbers in all this land.  My grandfather was one of those happy\nshepherds; and he often pastured his flocks on the broad terrace where\nthe town of Delphi now stands, and where the two eagles, which I have\ntold you about, fell to the ground.  One day, a strange thing happened\nto him.  A goat which was nibbling the grass from the sides of a little\ncrevice in the rock, fell into a fit, and lay bleating and helpless upon\nthe ground.  My grandfather ran to help the beast; but as he stooped\ndown, he too fell into a fit, and he saw strange visions, and spoke\nprophetic words. Some other shepherds who were passing by saw his\nplight, and lifted him up; and as soon as he breathed the fresh air, he\nwas himself again.\n\n\"Often after this, the same thing happened to my grandfather's goats;\nand when he had looked carefully into the matter, he found that a warm,\nstifling vapor issued at times from the crevice, and that it was the\nbreathing of this vapor which had caused his goats and even himself to\nlose their senses.  Then other men came; and they learned that by\nsitting close to the crevice, and inhaling its vapor, they gained the\npower to foresee things, and the gift of prophecy came to them.  And so\nthey set a tripod over the crevice for a seat, and they built a\ntemple--small at first--over the tripod; and they sent for the wisest\nmaidens in the land to come and sit upon the tripod and breathe the\nstrange vapor, so that they could tell what was otherwise hidden from\nhuman knowledge.  Some say that the vapor is the breath of a python, or\ngreat serpent; and they call the priestess who sits upon the tripod\nPythia.  But I know nothing about that.\"\n\n\"Are you sure,\" asked Phemius, \"that it was your grandfather who first\nfound that crevice in the rock?\"\n\n\"I am not quite sure,\" said the shepherd.  \"But I heard the story when I\nwas a little child, and I know that it was either my grandfather or my\ngrandfather's grandfather.  At any rate, it all happened many, many\nyears ago.\"\n\nBy this time they had finished their meal; and after they had given\nthanks to the powers who had thus far kindly prospered them, they\nhastened to renew their journey.  Two of the oarsmen, who were landsmen\nas well as seamen, were to go with them to carry their luggage and the\nlittle presents which Laertes had sent to the priests at Delphi.  The\nshepherd was to be their guide; and a second shepherd was to keep them\ncompany, so as to help them in case of need.\n\nThe sun was high over their heads when they were ready to begin their\nlong and toilsome walk.  The road at first was smooth and easy, winding\nthrough meadows and orchards and shady pastures.  But very soon the way\nbecame steep and uneven, and the olive trees gave place to pines, and\nthe meadows to barren rocks.  The little company toiled bravely onward,\nhowever, the two shepherds leading the way and cheering them with\npleasant melodies on their flutes, while the two sailors with their\nheavy loads followed in the rear.\n\nIt was quite late in the day when they reached the sacred town of\nDelphi, nestling in the very bosom of Parnassus.  The mighty mountain\nwall now rose straight up before them, seeming to reach even to the\nclouds. The priests who kept the temple met them on the outskirts of the\ntown, and kindly welcomed them for the sake of King Laertes, whom they\nknew and had seen; and they besought the wayfarers to abide for some\ntime in Delphi.  Nor, indeed, would Phemius have thought of going\nfarther until he had prayed to bright Apollo, and offered rich gifts at\nhis shrine, and questioned the Pythian priestess about the unknown\nfuture.\n\nAnd so Odysseus and his tutor became the honored guests of the Delphian\nfolk; and they felt that surely they were now at the very centre of the\nworld.  Their hosts dealt so kindly with them, that a whole month\npassed, and still they were in Delphi.  And as they talked with the\npriests in the temple, or listened to the music of the mountain nymphs,\nor drank sweet draughts of wisdom from the Castalian spring, they every\nday found it harder and harder to tear themselves away from the\ndelightful place.\n\n\n\n\n                           _*ADVENTURE IV.*_\n\n                       *THE SILVER-BOWED APOLLO.*\n\n\nOne morning Odysseus sat in the shadow of Parnassus with one of the\npriests of Apollo, and they talked of many wonderful things; and the boy\nbegan to think to himself that there was more wisdom in the words of his\ncompanion than in all the waters of the Castalian spring.  He could see,\nfrom where he sat, the stream of that far-famed fountain, flowing out of\nthe rocks between two cliffs, and falling in sparkling cascades down the\nsteep slopes.\n\n\"Men think that they gain wisdom by drinking from that spring,\" said he\nto the priest; \"but I think that they gain it in quite another way.\nThey drink of its waters every day; but while they drink, they listen to\nthe wonderful words which fall from your lips, and they become wise by\nhearing, and not by drinking.\"\n\nThe old priest smiled at the shrewdness of the boy. \"Let them think as\nthey please,\" said he.  \"In any case, their wisdom would come hard, and\nbe of little use, if it were not for the silver-bowed Apollo.\"\n\n\"Tell me about Apollo,\" said Odysseus.\n\nThe priest could not have been better pleased.  He moved his seat, so\nthat he could look the boy full in the face, and at the same time have\nthe temple before him, and then he began:--\n\n\n\"A very long time ago, Apollo was born in distant Delos.  And when the\nglad news of his birth was told, Earth smiled, and decked herself with\nflowers; the nymphs of Delos sang songs of joy that were heard to the\nutmost bounds of Hellas; and choirs of white swans flew seven times\naround the island, piping notes of praise to the pure being who had come\nto dwell among men.  Then Zeus looked down from high Olympus, and\ncrowned the babe with a golden head-band, and put into his hands a\nsilver bow and a sweet-toned lyre such as no man had ever seen; and he\ngave him a team of white swans to drive, and bade him go forth to teach\nmen the things which are right and good, and to make light that which is\nhidden and in darkness.\n\n\"And so Apollo arose, beautiful as the morning sun, and journeyed\nthrough many lands, seeking a dwelling-place. He stopped for a time at\nthe foot of Mount Olympus, and played so sweetly upon his lyre that Zeus\nand all his court were entranced.  Then he went into Pieria and Iolcos,\nand he wandered up and down through the whole length of the Thessalian\nland; but nowhere could he find a spot in which he was willing to dwell.\nThen he climbed into his car, and bade his swan-team fly with him to the\ncountry of the Hyperboreans beyond the far-off northern mountains.\nForthwith they obeyed; and through the pure regions of the upper air\nthey bore him, winging their way ever northward.  They carried him over\nthe desert flats where the shepherd folk of Scythia dwell in houses of\nwicker-work perched on well-wheeled wagons, and daily drive their flocks\nand herds to fresher pastures.  They carried him over that unknown land\nwhere the Arimaspian host of one-eyed horsemen dwell beside a river\nrunning bright with gold; and on the seventh day they came to the great\nRhipaean Mountains where the griffins, with lion bodies and eagle wings,\nguard the golden treasures of the North. In these mountains, the North\nWind has his home; and from his deep caves he now and then comes forth,\nchilling with his cold and angry breath the orchards and the fair fields\nof Hellas, and bringing death and dire disasters in his train.  But\nnorthward this blustering Boreas cannot blow, for the heaven-towering\nmountains stand like a wall against him, and drive him back; and hence\nit is that beyond these mountains the storms of winter never come, but\none happy springtime runs through all the year.  There the flowers\nbloom, and the grain ripens, and the fruits drop mellowing to the earth,\nand the red wine is pressed from the luscious grape, every day the same.\nAnd the Hyperboreans who dwell in that favored land know neither pain\nnor sickness, nor wearying labor nor eating care; but their youth is as\nunfading as the springtime, and old age with its wrinkles and its\nsorrows is evermore a stranger to them. For the spirit of evil, which\nleads all men to err, has never found entrance among them, and they are\nfree from vile passions and unworthy thoughts; and among them there is\nneither war, nor wicked deeds, nor fear of the avenging Furies, for\ntheir hearts are pure and clean, and never burdened with the love of\nself.\n\n\"When the swan-team of silver-bowed Apollo had carried him over the\nRhipaean Mountains, they alighted in the Hyperborean land.  And the\npeople welcomed Apollo with shouts of joy and songs of triumph, as one\nfor whom they had long been waiting.  And he took up his abode there,\nand dwelt with them one whole year, delighting them with his presence,\nand ruling over them as their king.  But when twelve moons had passed,\nhe bethought him that the toiling, suffering men of Hellas needed most\nhis aid and care.  Therefore he bade the Hyperboreans farewell, and\nagain went up into his sun-bright car; and his winged team carried him\nback to the land of his birth.\n\n\"Long time Apollo sought a place where he might build a temple to which\nmen might come to learn of him and to seek his help in time of need.  At\nlength he came to the plain of fair Tilphussa, by the shore of Lake\nCopais; and there he began to build a house, for the land was a pleasant\none, well-watered, and rich in grain and fruit.  But the nymph Tilphussa\nliked not to have Apollo dwell so near her, lest men seeing and loving\nhim should forget to honor her; and one day garmented with mosses and\ncrowned with lilies, she came and stood before him in the sunlight.\n\n\"'Apollo of the silver bow,' said she, 'have you not made a mistake in\nchoosing this place for a dwelling? These rich plains around us will not\nalways be as peaceful as now; for their very richness will tempt the\nspoiler, and the song of the cicada will then give place to the din of\nbattle.  Even in times of peace, you would hardly have a quiet hour\nhere: for great herds of cattle come crowding down every day to my lake\nfor water; and the noisy ploughman, driving his team afield, disturbs\nthe morning hour with his boorish shouts; and boys and dogs keep up a\nconstant din, and make life in this place a burden.'\n\n\"'Fair Tilphussa,' said Apollo, 'I had hoped to dwell here in thy happy\nvale, a neighbor and friend to thee.  Yet, since this place is not what\nit seems to be, whither shall I go, and where shall I build my house?\"\n\n\"'Go to the cleft in Parnassus where the swift eagles of Zeus met above\nthe earth's centre,' answered the nymph.  'There thou canst dwell in\npeace, and men will come from all parts of the world to do thee honor.'\n\n\"And so Apollo came down towards Crissa, and here in the cleft of the\nmountain he laid the foundations of his shrine.  Then he called the\nmaster-architects of the world, Trophonius and Agamedes, and gave to\nthem the building of the high walls and the massive roof. And when they\nhad finished their work, he said, 'Say now what reward you most desire\nfor your labor, and I will give it you.'\n\n\"'Give us,' said the brothers, 'that which is the best for men.'\n\n\"'It is well,' answered Apollo.  'When the full moon is seen above the\nmountain-tops, you shall have your wish.\"\n\n\"But when the moon rose full and clear above the heights, the two\nbrothers were dead.\n\n[Illustration: APOLLO SLAYING THE PYTHON.]\n\n\"And Apollo was pleased with the place which he had chosen for a home;\nfor here were peace and quiet, and neither the hum of labor nor the din\nof battle would be likely ever to enter.  Yet there was one thing to be\ndone before he could have perfect rest.  There lived near the foot of\nthe mountain a huge serpent called Python, which was the terror of all\nthe land.  Oftentimes, coming out of his den, this monster attacked the\nflocks and herds, and sometimes even their keepers; and he had been\nknown to carry little children and helpless women to his den, and there\ndevour them.\n\n\"The men of Delphi came one day to Apollo, and prayed him to drive out\nor destroy their terrible enemy. So, taking in hand his silver bow, he\nsallied out at break of day to meet the monster when he should issue\nfrom his slimy cave.  The vile creature shrank back when he saw the\nradiant god before him, and would fain have hidden himself in the deep\ngorges of the mountain.  But Apollo quickly launched a swift arrow at\nhim, crying, 'Thou bane of man, lie thou upon the earth, and enrich it\nwith thy dead body!'  And the never-erring arrow sped to the mark; and\nthe great beast died, wallowing in his gore.  And the people in their\njoy came out to meet the archer, singing paeans in his praise; and they\ncrowned him with wild flowers and wreaths of olives, and hailed him as\nthe Pythian king; and the nightingales sang to him in the groves, and\nthe swallows and cicadas twittered and tuned their melodies in harmony\nwith his lyre.[1]\n\n\n[1] See Note 2 at the end of this volume.\n\n\n\"But as yet there were no priests in Apollo's temple; and he pondered,\nlong doubting, as to whom he should choose.  One day he stood upon the\nmountain's top-most peak, whence he could see all Hellas and the seas\naround it.  Far away in the south, he spied a little ship sailing from\nCrete to sandy Pylos; and the men who were on board were Cretan\nmerchants.\n\n\"'These men shall serve in my temple!' he cried.\n\n\"Upward he sprang, and high he soared above the sea; then swiftly\ndescending like a fiery star, he plunged into the waves.  There he\nchanged himself into the form of a dolphin, and swam with speed to\novertake the vessel.  Long before the ship had reached Pylos, the mighty\nfish came up with it, and struck its stern.  The crew were dumb with\nterror, and sat still in their places; their oars were motionless; the\nsail hung limp and useless from the mast.  Yet the vessel sped through\nthe waves with the speed of the wind, for the dolphin was driving it\nforward by the force of his fins.  Past many a headland, past Pylos and\nmany pleasant harbors, they hastened.  Vainly did the pilot try to land\nat Cyparissa and at Cyllene: the ship would not obey her helm.  They\nrounded the headland of Araxus, and came into the long bay of Crissa;\nand there the dolphin left off guiding the vessel, and swam playfully\naround it, while a brisk west wind filled the sail, and bore the\nvoyagers safely into port.\n\n\"Then the dolphin changed into the form of a glowing star, which,\nshooting high into the heavens, lit up the whole world with its glory;\nand as the awe-stricken crew stood gazing at the wonder, it fell with\nthe quickness of light upon Parnassus.  Into his temple Apollo hastened,\nand there he kindled an undying fire.  Then, in the form of a handsome\nyouth, with golden hair falling in waves upon his shoulders, he hastened\nto the beach to welcome the Cretan strangers.\n\n\"'Hail, seamen!' he cried.  'Who are you, and from whence do you come?\nShall I greet you as friends and guests, or shall I know you as robbers\nbringing death and distress to many a fair home?'\n\n\"Then answered the Cretan captain, 'Fair stranger, the gods have brought\nus hither; for by no wish of our own have we come.  We are Cretan\nmerchants, and we were on our way to sandy Pylos with stores of\nmerchandise, to barter with the tradesmen of that city. But some unknown\nbeing, whose might is greater than the might of men, has carried us far\nbeyond our wished-for port, even to this unknown shore.  Tell us now, we\npray thee, what land is this?  And who art thou who lookest so like a\ngod?'\n\n\"'Friends and guests, for such indeed you must be,' answered the radiant\nyouth, 'think never again of sailing upon the wine-faced sea, but draw\nnow your vessel high up on the beach.  And when you have brought out all\nyour goods, and built an altar upon the shore, take of your white barley\nwhich you have with you, and offer it reverently to Phoebus Apollo.  For\nI am he; and it was I who brought you hither, so that you might keep my\ntemple, and make known my wishes unto men. And since it was in the form\nof a dolphin that you first saw me, let the town which stands around my\ntemple be known as Delphi, and let men worship me there as Apollo\nDelphinius.'\n\n\"Then the Cretans did as he had bidden them: they drew their vessel high\nup on the white beach, and when they had unladen it of their goods, they\nbuilt an altar on the shore, and offered white barley to Phoebus Apollo,\nand gave thanks to the ever-living powers who had saved them from the\nterrors of the deep.  And after they had feasted, and rested from their\nlong voyage, they turned their faces toward Parnassus; and Apollo,\nplaying sweeter music than men had ever heard, led the way; and the folk\nof Delphi, with choirs of boys and maidens, came to meet them, and they\nsang a paean and songs of victory as they helped the Cretans up the\nsteep pathway to the cleft of Parnassus.\n\n\"'I leave you now to have sole care of my temple,' said Apollo.  'I\ncharge you to keep it well; deal righteously with all men; let no\nunclean thing pass your lips; forget self; guard well your thoughts, and\nkeep your hearts free from guile.  If you do these things, you shall be\nblessed with length of days and all that makes life glad.  But if you\nforget my words, and deal treacherously with men, and cause any to\nwander from the path of right, then shall you be driven forth homeless\nand accursed, and others shall take your places in the service of my\nhouse.'\n\n\"And then the bright youth left them and hastened away into Thessaly and\nto Mount Olympus.  But every year he comes again, and looks into his\nhouse, and speaks words of warning and of hope to his servants; and\noften men have seen him on Parnassus, playing his lyre to the listening\nMuses, or with his sister, arrow-loving Artemis, chasing the mountain\ndeer.\"\n\n\nSuch was the story which the old priest related to Odysseus, sitting in\nthe shadow of the mountain; and the boy listened with eyes wide open and\nfull of wonder, half expecting to see the golden-haired Apollo standing\nby his side.\n\n\n\n\n                            _*ADVENTURE V.*_\n\n                     *THE KING OF CATTLE THIEVES.*\n\n\nOdysseus and his tutor tarried, as I have told you, a whole month at\nDelphi; for Phemius would not venture farther on their journey until the\nPythian oracle should tell him how it would end.  In the mean while many\nstrangers were daily coming from all parts of Hellas, bringing rich\ngifts for Apollo's temple, and seeking advice from the Pythia.  From\nthese strangers Odysseus learned many things concerning lands and places\nof which he never before had heard; and nothing pleased him better than\nto listen to the marvellous tales which each man told about his own home\nand people.\n\nOne day as he was walking towards the spring of Castalia, an old man,\nwho had come from Corinth to ask questions of the Pythia, met him, and\nstopped to talk with him.\n\n\"Young prince,\" said the old man, \"what business can bring one so young\nas you to this place sacred to Apollo?\"\n\n\"I am on my way to visit my grandfather,\" said Odysseus, \"and I have\nstopped here for a few days while my tutor consults the oracle.\"\n\n\"Your grandfather!  And who is your grandfather?\" asked the old man.\n\n\"The great chief Autolycus, whose halls are on the other side of\nParnassus,\" answered Odysseus.\n\nThe old man drew a long breath, and after a moment's silence said,\n\"Perhaps, then, you are going to help your grandfather take care of his\nneighbors' cattle.\"\n\n\"I do not know what you mean,\" answered Odysseus, startled by the tone\nin which the stranger spoke these words.\n\n\"I mean that your grandfather, who is the most cunning of men, will\nexpect to teach you his trade,\" said the man, with a strange twinkle in\nhis eye.\n\n\"My grandfather is a chieftain and a hero,\" said the boy.  \"What trade\nhas he?\"\n\n\"You pretend not to know that he is a cattle-dealer,\" answered the old\nman, shrugging his shoulders. \"Why, all Hellas has known him these\nhundred years as the King of Cattle Thieves!  But he is very old now,\nand the herdsmen and shepherds have little to fear from him any more.\nYet, mind my words, young prince: it does not require the wisdom of the\nPythian oracle to foretell that you, his grandson, will become the\ncraftiest of men.  With Autolycus for your grandfather and Hermes for\nyour great-grandfather, it would be hard indeed for you to be\notherwise.\"\n\nAt this moment the bard Phemius came up, and the old man walked quickly\naway.\n\n\"What does he mean?\" asked Odysseus, turning to his tutor.  \"What does\nhe mean by saying that my grandfather is the king of cattle thieves, and\nby speaking of Hermes as my great-grandfather?\"\n\n\"They tell strange tales about Autolycus, the mountain chief,\" Phemius\nanswered; \"but whether their stories be true or false, I cannot say.\nThe old man who was talking to you is from Corinth, where once reigned\nSisyphus, a most cruel and crafty king.  From Corinth, Sisyphus sent\nships and traders to all the world; and the wealth of Hellas might have\nbeen his, had he but loved the truth and dealt justly with his\nfellow-men.  But there was no honor in his soul; he betrayed his dearest\nfriends for gold; and he crushed under a huge block of stone the\nstrangers who came to Corinth to barter their merchandise.  It is said,\nthat, once upon a time, Autolycus went down to Corinth in the night, and\ncarried away all the cattle of Sisyphus, driving them to his great\npastures beyond Parnassus. Not long afterward, Sisyphus went boldly to\nyour grandfather's halls, and said,--\n\n\"'I have come, Autolycus, to get again my cattle which you have been so\nkindly pasturing.'\n\n\"'It is well,' said Autolycus.  'Go now among my herds, and if you find\nany cattle bearing your mark upon them, they are yours: drive them back\nto your own pastures.  This is the offer which I make to every man who\ncomes claiming that I have stolen his cattle.'\n\n\"Then Sisyphus, to your grandfather's great surprise, went among the\nherds, and chose his own without making a single error.\n\n\"'See you not my initial, [sigma symbol], under the hoof of each of\nthese beasts?' asked Sisyphus.\n\n\"Autolycus saw at once that he had been outwitted, and he fain would\nhave made friends with one who was more crafty than himself.  But\nSisyphus dealt treacherously with him, as he did with every one who\ntrusted him.  Yet men say, that, now he is dead, he has his reward in\nHades; for there he is doomed to the never-ending toil of heaving a\nheavy stone to the top of a hill, only to see it roll back again to the\nplain.[1]  It was from him that men learned to call your grandfather the\nKing of Cattle Thieves; with how much justice, you may judge for\nyourself.\"\n\n\n[1] See Note 3 at the end of this volume.\n\n\n\"You have explained a part of what I asked you,\" said Odysseus\nthoughtfully, \"but you have not answered my question about Hermes.\"\n\n\"I will answer that at another time,\" said Phemius; \"for to-morrow we\nmust renew our journey, and I must go now and put every thing in\nreadiness.\"[2]\n\n\n[2] See Note 4 at the end of this volume.\n\n\n\"But has the oracle spoken?\" asked Odysseus in surprise.\n\n\"The Pythia has answered my question,\" said the bard.  \"I asked what\nfortune should attend you on this journey, and the oracle made this\nreply:--\n\n    'To home and kindred he shall safe return e'er long,\n    With scars well-won, and greeted with triumphal song.'\"\n\n\n\"What does it mean?\" asked Odysseus.\n\n\"Just what it says,\" answered the bard.  \"All that is now needed is that\nwe should do our part, and fortune will surely smile upon us.\"\n\nAnd so, on the morrow, they bade their kind hosts farewell, and began to\nclimb the steep pathway, which, they were told, led up and around to the\nrock-built halls of Autolycus.  At the top of the first slope they came\nupon a broad table-land from the centre of which rose the peak of\nParnassus towering to the skies. Around the base of this peak, huge\nrocks were piled, one above the other, just as they had been thrown in\nthe days of old from the mighty hands of the Titans. On every side were\nclefts and chasms and deep gorges, through which flowed roaring torrents\nfed from the melting snows above.  And in the sides of the cliffs were\ndark caves and narrow grottos, hollowed from the solid rock, wherein\nstrange creatures were said to dwell.\n\nNow and then Odysseus fancied that he saw a mountain nymph flitting\namong the trees, or a satyr with shaggy beard hastily hiding himself\namong the clefts and crags above them.  They passed by the great\nCorycian cavern, whose huge vaulted chambers would shelter a thousand\nmen; but they looked in vain for the nymph Corycia, who, they were told,\nsometimes sat within, and smiled upon passing travellers.  A little\nfarther beyond, they heard the mellow notes of a lyre, and the sound of\nlaughter and merry-making, in a grove of evergreens, lower down the\nmountain-side; and Odysseus wondered if Apollo and the Muses were not\nthere.\n\nThe path which the little company followed did not lead to the summit of\nthe peak, but wound around its base, and then, by many a zigzag, led\ndownward to a wooded glen through the middle of which a mountain torrent\nrushed.  By and by the glen widened into a pleasant valley, broad and\ngreen, bounded on three sides by steep mountain walls.  Here were rich\npasture-lands, and a meadow, in which Odysseus saw thousands of cattle\ngrazing.  The guide told them that those were the pastures and the\ncattle of great Autolycus. Close to the bank of the mountain\ntorrent,--just where it leaped from a precipice, and, forgetting its\nwild hurry, was changed to a quiet meadow brook,--stood the dwelling of\nthe chief.  It was large and low, and had been hewn out of the solid\nrock; it looked more like the entrance to a mountain cave than like the\npalace of a king.\n\nOdysseus and his tutor walked boldly into the great hall; for the low\ndoorway was open and unguarded, and the following words were roughly\ncarved in the rock above: \"Here lives Autolycus.  If your heart is\nbrave, enter.\"  They passed through the entrance-hall, and came to a\nsmaller inner chamber.  There they saw Autolycus seated in a chair of\nivory and gold, thick-cushioned with furs; and near him sat fair\nAmphithea his wife, busy with her spindle and distaff. The chief was\nvery old; his white hair fell in waves upon his great shoulders, and his\nbroad brow was wrinkled with age: yet his frame was that of a giant, and\nhis eyes glowed and sparkled with the fire of youth.\n\n\"Strangers,\" said he kindly, \"you are welcome to my halls.  It is not\noften that men visit me in my mountain home, and old age has bound me\nhere in my chair so that I can no longer walk abroad among my fellows.\nBesides this, there are those who of late speak many unkind words of me;\nand good men care not to be the guests of him who is called the King of\nCattle Thieves.\"  Then seeing that his visitors still lingered at the\ndoor, he added, \"I pray you, whoever you may be, fear not, but enter,\nand be assured of a kind welcome.\"\n\nThen Odysseus went fearlessly forward, and stood before the chief, and\nmade himself known, and showed them the presents which his mother\nAnticleia had sent.  Glad indeed was the heart of old Autolycus as he\ngrasped the hand of his grandson; and Amphithea took the lad in her\narms, and kissed his brow and both his eyes, and wept for very fulness\nof joy.  Then, at a call from the old chief, an inner door was opened,\nand his six sons came in.  Stalwart men were they, with limbs strong as\niron, and eyes like those of the mountain eagle; and they warmly\nwelcomed the young prince, and asked him a thousand questions about his\nhome in Ithaca, and his queen-mother, their sister Anticleia.\n\n\"Waste not the hours in talk!\" cried old Autolycus at last.  \"There is\nyet another day for words.  Make ready at once a fitting feast for this\nmy grandson and his friend the bard; and let our halls ring loud with\njoyful merriment.\"\n\nThe sons at once obeyed.  From the herd which was pasturing in the\nmeadows, they chose the fattest calf; this they slew and quickly\ndressed; and then, cutting off the choicest parts, they roasted them on\nspits before the blazing fire.  And when the meal was ready, great\nAutolycus, his wife, and his sons sat down with their guests at the\nheavy-laden table; and they feasted merrily until the sun went down, and\ndarkness covered the earth.  Then the young men brought arm-loads of dry\nbranches, and logs of pine, and threw them upon the fire, and the blaze\nleaped up and lighted the hall with a rich ruddy glow; and Odysseus sat\nupon a couch of bearskins, at his grandfather's feet, and listened to\nmany a wonderful story of times long past, but ever present in the old\nman's memory.\n\n\"Truly there are two things against which it is useless for any man to\nfight,\" said Autolycus, \"and these are old age and death.  The first has\nalready made me his slave, and the second will soon have me in his\nclutches.  When I was young, there was not a man who could outstrip me\nin the foot race.  I even thought myself a match for the fleet-footed\nmaiden Atalanta. There were very few men, even among the great heroes,\nwho could hurl a spear with more force than I; and there was hardly one\nwho could bend my great bow. But now both spear and bow are useless.\nYou see them standing in the corner there, where my eyes can rest upon\nthem.  To-morrow you shall help me polish them.\"\n\nThen after a moment's pause he added, \"But, oh the wrestling and the\nleaping!  There was never but one mortal who could excel me in either.\"\n\n\"I have heard,\" said Odysseus, \"that even great Heracles was your\npupil.\"\n\n\"And such indeed he was,\" answered the old man. \"The first time I saw\nthe matchless hero, he was but a child, tall and beautiful, with the\neyes of a wild deer, and with flaxen hair falling over his shoulders.\nBut he was stronger even then than any common mortal.  His stepfather\nAmphitryon called me to Thebes to be the boy's teacher, for he saw in\nhim rich promises of future greatness.  With me he called many of the\nnoblest men of Hellas.  First there was Eurytus, the master of archers,\nwho taught the hero how to bend the bow and send the swift arrow\nstraight to the mark.  But in an evil day Eurytus met his fate, and all\nthrough his own folly.  For, being proud of his skill, which no mortal\ncould excel, he challenged great Apollo to a shooting match; and the\nangry archer-god pierced him through and through with his arrows.\n\n\"Second among the teachers of Heracles was Castor, the brother of\nPolydeuces and of Helen, the most beautiful of women.  He taught the\nhero how to wield the spear and the sword.  Then, there was Linus, the\nbrother of Orpheus, sweetest of musicians, who came to teach him how to\ntouch the lyre and bring forth bewitching melody; but the boy, whose\nmind was set on great deeds, cared naught for music, and the lessons\nwhich Linus gave him were profitless.  'Thou art but a dull and witless\nyouth!' cried the minstrel one day, striking his pupil upon the cheek.\nThen Heracles in wrath smote Linus with his own lyre, and killed him.\n'Even a dull pupil has his rights,' said he, 'and one of these is the\nright not to be called a blockhead.'  The Theban rulers brought the\nyoung hero to trial for his crime; but he stood up before them, and\nreminded them of a half-forgotten law which Rhadamanthus, the ruler of\nthe Elysian land, had given them: '_Whoso defends himself against an\nunjust attack is guiltless, and shall go free_.'  And the judges,\npleased with his wisdom, gave him his liberty.\"\n\n\"Did Heracles have any other teachers?\" asked Odysseus, anxious to hear\nmore.\n\n\"Yes; Amphytrion himself taught the lad how to drive a chariot\nskilfully, and how to manage horses. And, as I have said, he called me\nto teach him the manly arts of leaping and running and wrestling.  He\nwas an apt pupil, and soon excelled his master; and Amphitryon, fearing\nthat in a thoughtless moment he might serve me as he had served unlucky\nLinus, sent him away to Mount Cithaeron to watch his herds which were\npasturing there.\"\n\n\"Surely,\" said Odysseus, looking at the giant arms of his grandfather,\nridged with iron muscles,--\"surely there was no danger of the young hero\nharming you.\"\n\n\"A son of Hermes, such as I,\" said the old chief, \"might dare to stand\nagainst Heracles in craft and cunning, but never in feats of strength.\nWhile the lad fed Amphytrion's flocks in the mountain meadows, he grew\nto be a giant, four cubits in height, and terrible to look upon.  His\nvoice was like the roar of a desert lion; his step was like the march of\nan earthquake; and fire flashed from his eyes like the glare of\nthunderbolts when they are hurled from the storm clouds down to the\nfruitful plains below.  He could tear up trees by their roots, and hurl\nmountain crags from their places. It was then that he slew the Cithaeron\nlion with his bare hands, and took its skin for a helmet and a mantle\nwhich, I am told, he wears to this very day.  Only a little while after\nthis, he led the Thebans into a battle with their enemies, the Minyans,\nand gained for them a glorious victory.  Then Pallas Athene, well\npleased with the hero, gave him a purple robe; Hephaestus made for him a\nbreastplate of solid gold; and Hermes gave him a sword, Apollo a bow,\nand Poseidon a team of the most wonderful horses ever known.  Then, that\nhe might be fully armed, he went into the Nemaean wood, and cut for\nhimself that stout club which he always carries, and which is more\nterrible in his hands than spear, or sword, or bow and arrows.\"\n\n\"I have heard,\" said Odysseus, \"that Cheiron, the centaur, was one of\nthe teachers of Heracles.\"\n\n\"He was not only his teacher,\" said Autolycus, \"but he was his friend.\nHe taught what was just and true; he showed him that there is one thing\ngreater than strength, and that is gentleness; and he led him to change\nhis rude, savage nature into one full of kindness and love: so that in\nall the world there is no one so full of pity for the poor and weak, so\nfull of sympathy for the down-trodden, as is Heracles the strong. Had it\nnot been for wise Cheiron, I fear that Heracles would not have made the\nhappy decision which he once did, when the choice of two roads was\noffered him.\"\n\n\"What was that?\" asked Odysseus.  \"I have never heard about it.\"\n\n\"When Heracles was a fair-faced youth, and life was all before him, he\nwent out one morning to do an errand for his stepfather Amphitryon.  But\nas he walked, his heart was full of bitter thoughts; and he murmured\nbecause others no better than himself were living in ease and pleasure,\nwhile for him there was naught but a life of labor and pain.  And as he\nthought upon these things, he came to a place where two roads met; and\nhe stopped, not certain which one to take.  The road on his right was\nhilly and rough; there was no beauty in it or about it: but he saw that\nit led straight towards the blue mountains in the far distance.  The\nroad on his left was broad and smooth, with shade trees on either side,\nwhere sang an innumerable choir of birds; and it went winding among\ngreen meadows, where bloomed countless flowers: but it ended in fog and\nmist long before it ever reached the wonderful blue mountains in the\ndistance.\n\n\"While the lad stood in doubt as to these roads, he saw two fair women\ncoming towards him, each on a different road.  The one who came by the\nflowery way reached him first, and Heracles saw that she was beautiful\nas a summer day.  Her cheeks were red, her eyes sparkled; she spoke\nwarm, persuasive words.  'O noble youth,' she said, 'be no longer bowed\ndown with labor and sore trials, but come and follow me.  I will lead\nyou into pleasant paths, where there are no storms to disturb and no\ntroubles to annoy.  You shall live in ease, with one unending round of\nmusic and mirth; and you shall not want for any thing that makes life\njoyous,--sparkling wine, or soft couches, or rich robes, or the loving\neyes of beautiful maidens.  Come with me, and life shall be to you a\nday-dream of gladness.'\n\n\"By this time the other fair woman had drawn near, and she now spoke to\nthe lad.  'I have nothing to promise you,' said she, 'save that which\nyou shall win with your own strength.  The road upon which I would lead\nyou is uneven and hard, and climbs many a hill, and descends into many a\nvalley and quagmire.  The views which you will sometimes get from the\nhilltops are grand and glorious, but the deep valleys are dark, and the\nascent from them is toilsome; but the road leads to the blue mountains\nof endless fame, which you see far away on the horizon.  They cannot be\nreached without labor; in fact, there is nothing worth having that must\nnot be won by toil.  If you would have fruits and flowers, you must\nplant them and care for them; if you would gain the love of your\nfellow-men, you must love them and suffer for them; if you would enjoy\nthe favor of Heaven, you must make yourself worthy of that favor; if you\nwould have eternal fame, you must not scorn the hard road that leads to\nit.'\n\n\"Then Heracles saw that this lady, although she was as beautiful as the\nother, had a countenance pure and gentle, like the sky on a balmy\nmorning in May.\n\n\"'What is your name?' he asked.\n\n\"'Some call me Labor,' she answered, 'but others know me as Virtue.'\n\n\"Then he turned to the first lady.  'And what is your name?' he asked.\n\n\"'Some call me Pleasure,' she said, with a bewitching smile, 'but I\nchoose to be known as the Joyous and Happy One.'\n\n\"'Virtue,' said Heracles, 'I will take thee as my guide!  The road of\nlabor and honest effort shall be mine, and my heart shall no longer\ncherish bitterness or discontent.'\n\n\"And he put his hand into that of Virtue, and entered with her upon the\nstraight and forbidding road which leads to the fair blue mountains on\nthe pale and distant horizon.[1]\n\n\n[1] See Note 5 at the end of this volume.\n\n\n\"My dear grandson, make thou the same wise choice.\n\n\"But now the fire has burned low, and it is time that both old and young\nshould seek repose.  Go now to your chamber and your couch; and pleasant\ndreams be yours until the new day dawns, bringing its labors and its\nvictories.\"\n\n\n\n\n                           _*ADVENTURE VI.*_\n\n                        *TWO FAMOUS BOAR HUNTS.*\n\n\nHardly had the morning tinged the eastern sky with her yellow light,\nwhen Odysseus arose from his couch, and quickly clothed himself; for he\nhad been awakened by the sound of hurrying feet, and many voices, and\nthe barking of dogs, beneath his chamber window. When he went down into\nthe great hall, he was greeted by his six stalwart uncles, all of whom\nwere dressed for the chase, and armed with spears and knives.\n\n\"To-day we hunt the wild boar on the wooded slopes of Parnassus,\" said\nEchion, the eldest.  \"How glad we should be if you were old enough and\nstrong enough to join us in the sport!\"\n\nThe heart of Odysseus was stirred at once, like that of a warrior when\nhe hears the battle-call.  \"I am certainly strong enough!\" he cried.  \"I\nwill ask my grandfather if I may go.\"\n\nAutolycus smiled when the boy made known his wish. Indeed, he was\nexpecting such a request, and would have been disappointed and\ndispleased if it had not been made.\n\n\"Yes, go, my child,\" he said; \"and while I sit here, bound with the\nfetters of old age, my blessing shall go with you.\"\n\nOdysseus thanked his grandfather, and lost no time in making himself\nready for the hunt.  A hasty meal was eaten; and then the huntsmen, with\na great number of dogs and serving-men, sallied forth, and began to\nclimb the mountain slopes.  The master of the hunt was an old,\ngray-bearded man, one of the last of the ancient race of heroes, whose\nwhole life had been spent in the household of Autolycus.  Old as he was,\nhe outstrode all the other huntsmen; but Odysseus, young and supple,\nkept close behind him,--a dwarf following in the wake of a giant.\nUpward and still upward they toiled, while their comrades, with the\nhounds, followed slowly far below them.  They passed through the belt of\npine trees, and left the wooded slopes behind.  There was now nothing\nbut bare rocks before and above them. The cold winds whistled about\ntheir heads; the mountain eagles soared and screamed in the sharp\nmorning air.\n\n\"Surely, my father,\" said Odysseus, \"the lair of the wild boar cannot be\non these bleak heights.  Would it not be better to seek him among the\nwoods of the lower slopes?\"\n\n\"You are right,\" said the old man, stopping at last upon one of the\nhighest crags.  \"I have brought you to this spot, not in search of game,\nbut to show you what is a truly great and beautiful sight.  Your tutor\nhas told me that you once had a glimpse of the world from Mount Neritus;\nnow look around you, and see the world itself!\"\n\nThen the lad looked; and far away on the blue horizon he saw the silvery\nheights of Olympus, the throne of mighty Zeus, glittering in the\nsunlight, and canopied with clouds.  On his right he beheld Mount\nHelicon and the fruitful plains of Boeotia, and the blue sea of AEgaea\nstretching away and away towards the sunrise halls of Helios.  Southward\nlay the Bay of Crissa, and beyond it the land of mighty Pelops, and busy\nCorinth, and the rich pasture-lands of Arcadia.  Then turning to the\nwest, he saw, like a mere speck on the horizon, his own loved Ithaca;\nwhile nearer were the woods of Calydon and the green headlands of\nAchaia.  At that moment the clouds which had been hanging about the\nmountain-top suddenly melted away, and the sun shone out bright and\nclear, bathing the woods and crags in purple and gold; while at the same\ntime the music of ten thousand voices of birds and beasts and nymphs and\nwaterfalls was borne up from below to their delighted ears.\n\n\"Is not this a beautiful world?\" asked the aged hero, baring his gray\nhead to the cold winds.  \"What would you not give to have it all for\nyour own?\"\n\nThe lad answered not a word; but his eyes filled with tears as he\nthought of his home and of those whom he loved, far away by the green\nslopes of little Neritus.\n\n\"My son,\" then said the hero, \"remember the choice of Heracles.\nHappiness is to be gotten from within us.  It is not to be bought with\nsilver and gold, nor yet is it to be seized upon with violence.  Better\nhave a clean conscience than to own all Hellas; better--  But hark!  I\nhear the dogs in the dells far below us!  Let us hasten down, for they\nhave started the game.\"\n\nWithin a thorny thicket where grew the vines and leaves so closely that\nthe sun's rays never struggled through them, the huge wild boar had made\nhis lair. Hither the hounds had tracked him; and their deep baying, and\nthe trampling of many feet among the dead leaves upon the ground, had\nroused the beast, and stirred him into fury.  Suddenly he sprang from\nhis lair, and gnashing his huge tusks, and foaming with fury, he charged\nupon his foes.  The dogs fell back, afraid to come too close to an enemy\nso fierce and strong; and with their many-toned bays they made the\nechoes of Parnassus ring.\n\nJust at this moment, the boy Odysseus rushed down into the glen, his\nlong spear poised and ready to strike. But the great beast waited not\nfor the stroke: he dashed furiously at the boy, who quickly leaped\naside, although too late.  The boar's sharp tusk struck Odysseus just\nabove the knee, cutting a fearful gash, tearing the flesh, and even\ngrazing the bone.  But the lad, undaunted, struck manfully with his\nweapon.  The bright spear was driven straight to the heart of the beast;\nwith one great cry he fell, and gnashing his huge jaws helplessly he\ndied among the withered leaves.  The boy, faint with pain and the joy of\nvictory, staggered into the arms of his stalwart uncles, who had\nhastened to succor him.  Gently they bound up the ghastly wound, and\nwith charms and witchery stanched the flowing blood. Then, upon a litter\nwoven of vines and pliant twigs, they bore him down the deep glen to the\nbroad halls of old Autolycus; and the men and boys, having flayed the\ngrisly beast, brought afterward its head and bristly hide, and set them\nup as trophies in the gateway.\n\nFor many weary days, Odysseus lay helpless on a couch of pain.  But his\nkind kinsmen, and Phemius his tutor, waited on him tenderly, and his\nfair grandmother Amphithea nursed him.  And when the pain left him, and\nhe began to grow strong again, he loved to lie on the bearskins at his\ngrandfather's feet, and listen to tales of the earlier days, when the\nolder race of heroes walked the earth.\n\n\"When I was younger than I am to-day,\" said the old chief, as they sat\none evening in the light of the blazing brands,--\"when I was much\nyounger than now, it was my fortune to take part in the most famous boar\nhunt the world has ever known.\n\n\"There lived at that time, in Calydon, a mighty chief named\nOineus,--and, indeed, I know not but that he still lives.  Oineus was\nrich in vineyards and in orchards, and no other man in all AEtolia was\nhappier or more blessed than he.  He had married, early in life, the\nprincess Althea, fairest of the Acarnanian maidens, and to them a son\nhad been born, golden-haired and beautiful, whom they called Meleager.\n\n\"When Meleager was yet but one day old, his father held him in his arms,\nand prayed to Zeus and the ever-living powers above: 'Grant, Father\nZeus, and all ye deathless ones, that this my son may be the foremost\namong the men of Hellas.  And let it come to pass, that when they see\nhis valiant deeds, his countrymen shall say, \"Behold, this youth is\ngreater than his father,\" and all of one accord shall hail him as their\nguardian king.'\n\n\"Then his mother Althea, weeping tears of joy, prayed to Pallas Athene,\nthat the boy might grow up to be pure-minded and gentle, the hope and\npride of his parents, and the delight and staff of their declining\nyears.  Scarcely had the words of prayer died from her lips, when there\ncame into her chamber the three unerring Fates who spin the destinies of\nmen.  White-robed and garlanded, they stood beside the babe, and with\nunwearied fingers drew out the lines of his untried life.  Sad Clotho\nheld the golden distaff in her hand, and twirled and twisted the\ndelicate thread. Lachesis, now sad, now hopeful, with her long white\nfingers held the hourglass, and framed her lips to say, 'It is enough.'\nAnd Atropos, blind and unpitying as the future always is, stood ready,\nwith cruel shears, to clip the twist in twain.  Busily and silently sad\nClotho spun; and the golden thread, thin as a spider's web, yet\nbeautiful as a sunbeam, grew longer and more golden between her skilful\nfingers.  Then Lachesis cried out, 'It is finished!'  But Atropos hid\nher shears beneath her mantle, and said, 'Not so.  Behold, there is a\nbrand burning upon the hearth.  Wait until it is all burned into ashes\nand smoke, and then I will cut the thread of the child's life.  Spin on,\nsweet Clotho!'\n\n\"Quick as thought, Althea sprang forward, snatched the blazing brand\nfrom the hearth, and quenched its flame in a jar of water; and when she\nknew that not a single spark was left glowing upon it, she locked it\nsafely in a chest where none but she could find it.  As she did this,\nthe pitiless sisters vanished from her sight, saying as they flitted\nthrough the air, 'We bide our time.'[1]\n\n\n[1] See Note 6 at the end of this volume.\n\n\n\"Meleager grew up to be a tall and fair and gentle youth; and when at\nlast he became a man, he sailed on the ship Argo, with Jason, and\nLaertes your father, and the great heroes of that day, to far-off\nColchis, in search of the Golden Fleece.  Many brave deeds were his in\nforeign lands; and when he came home again to Calydon, he brought with\nhim a fair young wife, gentle Cleopatra, daughter of Idas the boaster.\n\n\"Oineus had gathered in his harvest; and he was glad and thankful in his\nheart, because his fields had yielded plenteously; his vines had been\nloaded with purple grapes, and his orchards filled with abundance of\npleasant fruit.  Grateful, as men should always be, to the givers of\npeace and plenty, he held within his halls a harvest festival, to which\nthe brave and beautiful of all AEtolia came.  Happy was this feast, and\nthe hours were bright with smiles and sunshine; and men forgot sorrow\nand labor, and thought only of the gladness of life.\n\n\"Then Oineus took of the first-fruits of his fields and his vineyards\nand his orchards, and offered them in thankful offerings to the givers\nof good.  But he forgot to deck the shrine of Artemis with gifts, little\nthinking that the arrow-darting queen cared for any thing which mortal\nmen might offer her.  Ah, woful mistake was that!  For, in her anger at\nthe slight, Artemis sent a savage boar, with ivory tusks and foaming\nmouth, to overrun the lands of Calydon.  Many a field did the monster\nravage, many a tree uproot; and all the growing vines, which late had\nborne so rich a vintage, were trampled to the ground.  Sadly troubled\nwas Oineus, and the chieftains of AEtolia knew not what to do.  For the\nfierce beast could not be slain, but with his terrible tusks he had sent\nmany a rash hunter to an untimely death.  Then the young man Meleager\nsaid, 'I will call together the heroes of Hellas, and we will hunt the\nboar in the woods of Calydon.'\n\n\"And so at the call of Meleager, the warriors flocked from every land,\nto join in the hunt of the fierce wild boar.  Among them came Castor and\nPolydeuces, the twin brothers from Lacedaemon; and Idas the boaster, the\nfather-in-law of Meleager, from Messene; and mighty Jason, captain of\nthe Argo; and Atalanta, the swift-footed daughter of Iasus of Arcadia;\nand many Acarnanian huntsmen led by the sons of Thestios, Althea's\nbrothers.  Thither also did I, Autolycus, hasten, although men\nspitefully said that I was far more skilful in taking tame beasts than\nin slaying wild ones.\n\n\"Nine days we feasted in the halls of Oineus; and every day we tried our\nskill with bows and arrows, and tested the strength of our well-seasoned\nspears.  On the tenth, the bugles sounded, and hounds and huntsmen\ngathered in the courtyard of the chief, chafing for the hunt.  But a\nproud fellow named Cepheus, of Arcadia, when he saw fair Atalanta\nequipped for the chase, drew back disdainfully, and said,--\n\n\"'In my country, it is not the custom for heroes to go to battle or to\nhunt side by side with women. Woman's place is at home: her weapons are\nthe distaff and the needle; her duty is to practise well the household\nvirtues.  If you allow this young girl to join in this hunt, then I will\nturn my face homeward, and seek in the Arcadian land adventures worthy\nof men.'\n\n\"Then Meleager angrily answered, 'In the Arcadian land, if report speaks\ntruly, the deeds deemed worthiest of men are the watching of flocks and\nthe tuning of the shepherd's pipe.  It is fear, not bravery, that makes\nyou seek an excuse to leave the chase of the wild boar before it is\nbegun.  You are afraid of the beast; and you are still more afraid of\nthe maiden Atalanta, lest she should prove to be more skilled than you.\nHave you heard how, when an infant, she was left to perish on the\nParthenian hill, and would have died, had not a she-bear cared for her\nuntil some hunters rescued her?  Have you heard how, as she grew up, her\nbeauty was greater than that of any other maiden, and how no one but\nArtemis, the archer-queen, could shoot the swift arrow so fair and\nstraight?  Have you heard what she did on the ship Argo, when, with\nJason as our captain, we sailed to the utmost bounds of the earth, and\nbrought home with us the fleece of gold?  Have you heard how, with her\nown arrows, she slew the beastly centaurs, Rhoecus and Hylaeus, because\nthey dared to make love to one so pure and beautiful? Doubtless you have\nheard all these things, and you are afraid to go to the field of danger\nwith one so much nobler than yourself.  Go back, then, to your\nsheep-tending Arcadia!  No one will miss you in the chase.'\n\n\"Then Cepheus blushed, but more from shame than anger.  'I will ride\nwith you into the wood,\" said he, 'and never again shall any man accuse\nme of having a timid heart.'\n\n\"Soon we sallied forth from the town, a hundred huntsmen, with dogs\ninnumerable.  Through the fields and orchards, laid waste by the savage\nbeast, we passed; and Atalanta, keen of sight and swift of foot, her\nlong hair floating in the wind behind her, led all the rest.  It was not\nlong until, in a narrow dell once green with vines and trees, but now\nstrewn thick with withered branches, we roused the fierce creature from\nhis lair.  At first he fled, followed closely by the baying hounds.\nThen suddenly he faced his foes; with gnashing teeth and bloodshot eyes,\nhe charged furiously upon them.  A score of hounds were slain outright;\nand Cepheus, rushing blindly onward, was caught by the beast, and torn\nin pieces by his sharp tusks.  Brave Peleus of Phthia with unsteady aim\nlet fly an arrow from his bow, which, falling short of the mark, smote\nhis friend Eurytion full in the breast, and stretched him lifeless upon\nthe ground.  Then swift-footed Atalanta, bounding forward, struck the\nbeast a deadly blow with her spear.  He stopped short his furious\nonslaught; and Amphiaraus, the hero and prophet of Argos, launching a\nswift arrow, put out one of his eyes.  Terrible were the cries of the\nwounded creature, as, blinded and bleeding, he made a last charge upon\nthe huntsmen.  But Meleager with a skilful sword-thrust pierced his\nheart, and the beast fell weltering in his gore.  Great joy filled the\nhearts of the Calydonians, when they saw the scourge of their land laid\nlow and helpless.  They quickly flayed the beast, and the heroes who had\nshared in the hunt divided the flesh among them; but the head and the\nbristly hide they gave to Meleager.\n\n\"'Not to me does the prize belong,' he cried, 'but to Atalanta, the\nswift-footed huntress.  For the first wound--the true death stroke,\nindeed--was given by her; and to her, woman though she be, all honor and\nthe prize must be awarded.'\n\n\"With these words, he bore the grinning head and the bristly hide to the\nfair young huntress, and laid them at her feet.  Then his uncles, the\nsons of Acarnanian Thestios, rushed angrily forward, saying that no\nwoman should ever bear a prize away from them; and they seized the hide,\nand would have taken it away, had not Meleager forbidden them.  Yet they\nwould not loose their hold upon the prize, but drew their swords, and\nwrathfully threatened Meleager's life.  The hero's heart grew hot within\nhim, and he shrunk not from the affray. Long and fearful was the\nstruggle,--uncles against nephew; but in the end the sons of Thestios\nlay bleeding upon the ground, while the victor brought again the boar's\nhide, and laid it the second time at Atalanta's feet.  The fair huntress\ntook the prize, and carried it away with her to deck her father's hall\nin the pleasant Arcadian land.  And the heroes, when they had feasted\nnine other days with King Oineus, betook themselves to their own homes.\n\n\"But the hearts of the Acarnanians were bitter towards Meleager, because\nof the death of the sons of Thestios, and because no part of the wild\nboar was awarded to them.  They called their chiefs around them, and all\ntheir brave men, and made war upon King Oineus and Meleager.  Many\nbattles did they fight round Calydon, and among the AEtolian hills; yet\nwhile Meleager led his warriors to the fray, the Acarnanians fared but\nill.\n\n\"Then Queen Althea, filled with grief for her brothers' untimely death,\nforgot her love for her son, and prayed that her Acarnanian kinsmen\nmight prevail against him.  Upon the hard earth she knelt: she beat the\nground with her hands, and heaped the dust about her; and, weeping\nbitter tears, she called upon Hades and heartless Persephone to avenge\nher of Meleager. And even as she prayed, the pitiless Furies, wandering\namid the darkness, heard her cries, and came, obedient to her wishes.\n\n\"When Meleager heard that his mother had turned against him, he withdrew\nin sorrow to his own house, and sought comfort and peace with his wife,\nfair Cleopatra; and he would not lead his warriors any more to battle\nagainst the Acarnanians.  Then the enemy besieged the city: a fearful\ntumult rose about the gates; the high towers were assaulted, and\neverywhere the Calydonians were driven back dismayed and beaten. With\nuplifted hands and tearful eyes, King Oineus and the elders of the city\ncame to Meleager, and besought him to take the field again.  Rich gifts\nthey offered him.  They bade him choose for his own the most fertile\nfarm in Calydon,--at the least fifty acres, half for tillage and half\nfor vines; but he would not listen to them.  The din of battle thickened\noutside the gates; the towers shook with the thundering blows of the\nbesiegers.  Old Oineus with trembling limbs climbed up the stairway to\nhis son's secluded chamber, and, weeping, prayed him to come down and\nsave the city from fire and pillage.  Still he kept silent, and went\nnot. His sisters came, and his most trusted friends.  'Come, Meleager,'\nthey prayed, 'forget thy grief, and think only of our great need.  Aid\nthy people, or we shall all perish!'\n\n[Illustration: MELEAGER REFUSES TO HELP IN THE DEFENCE OF THE CITY.]\n\n\"None of these prayers moved him.  The gates were beaten down; the enemy\nwas within the walls; the tide of battle shook the very tower where\nMeleager sat; the doom of Calydon seemed to be sealed.  Then came the\nfair Cleopatra, and knelt before her husband, and besought him to\nwithhold no longer the aid which he alone could give.  'O Meleager,' she\nsobbed, 'none but thou can save us.  Wilt thou sit still, and see the\ncity laid in ashes, thy dearest friends slaughtered, and thy wife and\nsweet babes dragged from their homes and sold into cruel slavery?'\n\n\"Then Meleager rose and girded on his armor.  To the streets he\nhastened, shouting his well-known battle-cry.  Eagerly and hopefully did\nthe Calydonian warriors rally around him.  Fiercely did they meet the\nfoe. Terrible was the bloodshed.  Back from the battered gates and the\ncrumbling wall, the Acarnanian hosts were driven.  A panic seized upon\nthem.  They turned and fled, and not many of them escaped the swords of\nMeleager's men.\n\n\"Again there was peace in Calydon, and the orchards of King Oineus\nblossomed and bore fruit as of old; but the gifts and large rewards\nwhich the elders had promised to Meleager were forgotten.  He had saved\nhis country, but his countrymen were ungrateful.\n\n\"Then Meleager again laid aside his war-gear, and sought the quiet of\nhis own home, and the cheering presence of fair Cleopatra.  For the\nremembrance of his mother's curse and his country's ingratitude weighed\nheavily on his mind, and he cared no longer to mingle with his\nfellow-men.\n\n\"Then it was that Althea's hatred of her son waxed stronger, and she\nthought of the half-burnt brand which she had hidden, and of the words\nwhich the fatal sisters had spoken so many years before.\n\n\"'He is no longer my son,' said she, 'and why should I withhold the\nburning of the brand?  He can never again bring comfort to my heart; for\nthe blood of my brothers, whom I loved, is upon his head.'\n\n\"And she took the charred billet from the place where she had hidden it,\nand cast it again into the flames. And as it slowly burned away, so did\nthe life of Meleager wane.  Lovingly he bade his wife farewell; softly\nhe whispered a prayer to the unseen powers above; and as the flickering\nflames of the fatal brand died into darkness, he gently breathed his\nlast.\n\n\"Then sharp-toothed remorse seized upon Althea, and the mother-love\nwhich had slept in her bosom was reawakened.  Too late, also, the folk\nof Calydon remembered who it was that had saved them from slavery and\ndeath.  Down into the comfortless halls of Hades, Althea hastened to\nseek her son's forgiveness.  The loving heart of Cleopatra, surcharged\nwith grief, was broken; and her gentle spirit fled to the world of\nshades to meet that of her hero-husband.  And Meleager's sisters would\nnot be consoled, so great was the sorrow which had come upon them; and\nthey wept and lamented day and night, until kind Artemis in pity for\ntheir youth changed them into the birds which we call Meleagrides.\"\n\n\nLying on the bearskins at his grandfather's feet, and listening to\nstories like this, Odysseus did not feel that time was burdensome.  The\nwound upon his knee healed slowly; and when at last he could walk again,\na white scar, as long and as broad as a finger, told the story of his\ncombat with the fierce wild boar.  By this time the summer was far\nspent, and the bard Phemius was impatient to return to Ithaca.\n\n\"The grapes in your father's vineyard are growing purple, and his\norchards are laden with ripening fruit,\" said he to Odysseus; \"and the\ndays are near at hand when your anxious mother will gaze with longing\nover the sea, expecting your return.\"\n\nBut there was no vessel at the port on the bay to carry them home by the\nnearest way; and days' and months might pass ere any ship, sent thither\nby Laertes, would arrive.  How, then, were they to return to Ithaca?\n\n\"Here is your uncle, bold Echion, who goes to-morrow to Iolcos by the\nsea, carrying gifts and a message from Autolycus to old King Peleus.  We\nwill go with him.\"\n\n\"But Iolcos is farther still from Ithaca,\" said Odysseus.\n\n\"True,\" answered Phemius.  \"But from Iolcos, at this season of the year,\nthere are many vessels sailing to Corinth and the islands of the sea.\nOnce at Corinth, and we shall find no lack of ships to carry us across\nthe bay of Crissa to our own loved Ithaca.\"\n\nAnd thus the journey home was planned.  It was a long and devious route\nby way of Iolcos and the Euboean Sea; and no one could say how many\ndangers they might meet, or how many delays they should encounter. Yet\nnothing better could be done, if they would return before the summer\nended.\n\nThe great Autolycus blessed Odysseus on departing, and gave him rich\ngifts of gold and priceless gems, and many words of sage advice.  \"I\nshall see thee no more,\" he said; \"but thy name shall be spoken\ncountless ages hence, and men shall say, 'How shrewd and far-seeing,\nbrave in war, and wise in counsel, was Odysseus!'\"\n\n\n\n\n                           _*ADVENTURE VII.*_\n\n                       *AT OLD CHEIRON'S SCHOOL.*\n\n\nAfter a long, hard journey by land and sea, Odysseus and his tutor, with\nbold Echion, came to Iolcos.  Aged Peleus, king of Phthia and the\nfertile plains of Iolcos, greeted them with show of heartiest welcome;\nfor he remembered that Laertes had been his friend and comrade long\nyears before, when together on the Argo they sailed the briny deep, and\nhe was glad to see the son of that old comrade; and he took Odysseus by\nthe hand, and led him into his palace, and gave him of the best of all\nthat he had.\n\n\"Tarry with me for a month,\" he said.  \"My ships are now at sea, but\nthey will return; and when the moon rises again full and round, as it\ndid last night, I will send you safe to Corinth on the shores of the Bay\nof Crissa.\"\n\nAnd so Odysseus and the bard staid a whole month at Iolcos, in the house\nof Peleus the king.  There were feasting and merriment in the halls\nevery day; and yet the time hung heavily, for the boy longed to\nre-behold his own loved Ithaca, and could hardly wait to see the moon\ngrow full and round again.\n\n\"What mountain is that which looms up so grandly on our left, and whose\nsides seem covered with dark forests?\" asked Odysseus one day, as he\nwalked with his tutor beside the sea.\n\n\"It is famous Mount Pelion,\" said the bard; \"and that other mountain\nwith the steeper sides, which stands out faintly against the far\nhorizon, is the scarcely less famed Ossa.\"\n\n\"I have heard my father speak of piling Pelion upon Ossa,\" said\nOdysseus, \"but I cannot understand how that can be done.\"\n\n\"There were once two brothers, the tallest that the grain-giving earth\nhas ever reared,\" said Phemius. \"Their names were Otus and Ephialtes;\nand they threatened to make war even against the deathless ones who\ndwell on Mount Olympus.  They boasted that they would pile Ossa on\nOlympus, and Pelion, with all its woods, upon the top of Ossa, that so\nthey might make a pathway to the sky.  And, had they lived to manhood's\nyears, no one can say what deeds they would have done.  But silver-bowed\nApollo, with his swift arrows, slew the twain ere yet the down had\nbloomed upon their cheeks or darkened their chins with the promise of\nmanhood.  And so Pelion still stands beside the sea, and Ossa, in its\nown place, guards the lovely vale of Tempe.\"[1]\n\n\n[1] See Odyssey, Book xi. l. 306,\n\n\n\"Oh, now I remember something else about Mount Pelion,\" cried Odysseus.\n\"It was from the trees which grew upon its sides, that the ship Argo was\nbuilt. And I have heard my father tell how Cheiron the Centaur once\nlived in a cave on Pelion, and taught the young heroes who came to learn\nof him; and how young Jason came down the mountain one day, and boldly\nstood before King Pelias, who had robbed old AEson, his father, of the\nkingdom which was rightfully his.  Would that I had been one of\nCheiron's pupils, and had shared the instruction which he gave to those\nyouthful heroes!\"\n\n\"The old Centaur still lives in his cave on Mount Pelion,\" said Phemius.\n\"To-morrow, if King Peleus is willing, we will go and see him.\"\n\nAnd so, the next day, the two went out of Iolcos, through vineyards and\nfields and olive orchards, towards Pelion, the snow-crowned warder of\nthe shore. They followed a winding pathway, and came ere long to the\nfoot of the mighty mountain.  Above them were frowning rocks, and dark\nforests of pine, which seemed ready to fall upon and crush them.  But\namong the trees, and in the crannies of the rocks, there grew thousands\nof sweetest flowers, and every kind of health giving herb, and tender\ngrass for the mountain-climbing deer.  Up and up they climbed, until the\ndark forests gave place to stunted shrubs, and the shrubs to barren\nrocks.  Then the pathway led downward again to the head of a narrow\nglen, where roared a foaming waterfall.  There they came to the mouth of\na cave opening out upon a sunny ledge, and almost hidden behind a broad\ncurtain of blossoming vines.  From within the cave there came the sound\nof music,--the sweet tones of a harp, mingled with the voices of\nsingers. Of what did they sing?\n\nThey sang of things pure and good and beautiful,--of the mighty sea, and\nthe grain-bearing earth, and the blue vault of heaven; of faith, strong\nand holy; of hope, bright and trustful; of love, pure and mighty. Then\nthe singing ceased, and the harp was laid aside.\n\nOdysseus and the bard went quickly forward, and stood waiting beside the\nwide-open door.  They could see, by looking in, that the low walls of\nthe cave were adorned with shields of leather or bronze, with the\nantlers of deer, and with many other relics of battle or of the chase.\nUpon the smooth white floor were soft couches of bearskins; and upon the\nhearthstone in the centre blazed a bright fire of twigs, casting a\nruddy, flickering light into the farthest nook and cranny of that\nstrange room.\n\nThey had not long to wait at the door.  An old man with white hair, and\nbeard reaching to his waist, with eyes as clear and bright as those of a\nfalcon, and with a step as firm as that of youth, came quickly forward\nto greet them.  Odysseus thought that he had never seen a man with so\nnoble and yet so sad a mien.\n\n\"Hail, strangers!\" said the aged hero, taking their hands.  \"Hail, son\nof Laertes--for I know thee!--welcome to the home of Cheiron, the last\nof his race! Come in, and you shall be kindly entertained; and after you\nhave rested your weary limbs, you shall tell me why you have come to\nPelion, and what favor you have to ask of me.\"\n\nTherewith he turned again into the broad cave-hall, and Odysseus and his\ntutor followed him.  And he led his guests, and seated them on pleasant\ncouches not far from the glowing fire upon the hearth.  Then a comely\nyouth brought water in a stone pitcher, and poured it in a basin, that\nthey might wash their hands.  And another lad brought wheaten bread, and\nset it by them on a polished table; and another brought golden honey in\nthe honeycomb, and many other dainties, and laid them on the board.  And\nwhen they were ready, a fourth lad lifted and placed before them a\nplatter of venison, and cups full of ice-cold water from the mountain\ncataract.  While they sat, partaking of these bounties, not a word was\nspoken in the cave; for old Cheiron never forgot the courtesy due to\nguests and strangers.  When they had finished, he bade them stay a while\nupon the couches where they sat; and he took a golden lyre in his hands,\nand deftly touched the chords, bringing forth the most restful music\nthat Odysseus had ever heard.  He played a soft, low melody which seemed\nto carry their minds far away into a summer land of peace, where they\nwandered at will by the side of still waters, and through sunlit fields\nand groves, and reposed under the shelter of calm blue skies, shielded\nby the boundless love of the unknown Creator.  When he had finished,\nOdysseus thought no more of the toilsome journey from Iolcos, or of the\nwearisome climbing of the mountain: he thought only of the wise and\nwonderful old man who sat before him.\n\n\"Now tell me,\" said Cheiron, laying his lyre aside,--\"tell me what\nerrand brings you hither, and what I can do to aid you.\"\n\n\"We have no errand,\" answered Phemius, \"save to see one of the\nimmortals, and to listen to the words of wisdom and beauty which fall\nfrom his lips.  We know that you have been the friend and teacher of\nheroes such as have not had their peers on earth; and this lad Odysseus,\nwho is himself the son of a hero, would fain learn something from you.\"\n\nCheiron smiled, and looked full into the young lad's face.\n\n\"I have trained many such youths as you for the battle of life,\" he\nsaid.  \"And your father, as were all the Argonauts, was well known to\nme.  You are welcome to Mount Pelion, and to old Cheiron's school. But\nwhy do you look at my feet?\"\n\nOdysseus blushed, but could make no answer.\n\n\"I understand it,\" said Cheiron, speaking in a tone of sadness.  \"You\nexpected to find me half man, half horse, and you were looking for the\nhoofs; for thus have many men thought concerning me and my race. Long\ntime ago my people dwelt in the valleys and upon the plains of Thessaly;\nand they were the first who tamed the wild horses of the desert flats,\nand taught them to obey the hand of their riders.  For untold years my\nfathers held this land, and they were as free as the winds that play\nupon the top of Pelion.  Their warriors, galloping on their swift horses\nwith their long lances ready in their hands, knew no fear, nor met any\nfoe that could stand against them; and hence men called them\nCentaurs,[2] the piercers of the air.  But by and by there came a strong\npeople from beyond the sea, who built houses of stone, and lived in\ntowns; and these made cruel war upon the swift-riding Centaurs. They\nwere the Lapiths,[3] the stone-persuaders, and they had never seen or\nheard of horses; and for a long time they fancied that our warriors were\nmonsters, half-steed, half-man, living wild among the mountains and upon\nthe plain.  And so the story has gone abroad throughout the world, that\nall the Centaurs, and even I, the last of the race, are hardly human,\nbut have hoofs and manes, and live as horses live.\n\n\n[2] From [Greek: kentein ten auran].\n\n[3] From [Greek: laas peithein].\n\n\n\"Long and sad was the war between the Centaurs and the Lapiths; but the\nstone-persuaders were stronger than the piercers of the air.  In time,\nmy people were driven into the mountains, where they lived as wild men\nin the caves, and in the sunless gorges and ravines; and our enemies,\nthe Lapiths, abode in the rich valleys, and held the broad pasture-lands\nwhich had once been ours.  Then it chanced that Peirithous, king of the\nLapiths, saw Hippodameia, fairest of our mountain maidens, and wished to\nwed her.  Whether her father consented to the marriage, or whether the\nLapiths carried her away by force, I cannot tell; but Peirithous made a\ngreat wedding feast, and to it he invited the chiefs of the Centaurs,\nand great Theseus of Athens, and Nestor of sandy Pylos, and many others\nof the noblest heroes of Hellas. Many wild and dark stories have been\ntold of what happened at that wedding feast; but you must remember that\nall these stories have come from the mouths of our enemies, the\nstone-persuading Lapiths, and that their truth may well be doubted.  Let\nme tell you about it, as I understand the facts to be:--\n\n\"In the midst of the feast, when the Lapiths were drunken with wine,\nEurytion, the boldest of the Centaurs, rose quickly to his feet, and\nbeckoned to his fellows.  Without a word they seized upon the bride;\nthey carried her, not unwilling, from the hall; they seated her upon a\nswift steed which stood ready at the door; then in hot haste they\nmounted, aiming to ride with their prize back to their mountain homes.\nBut the Lapiths were aroused, and rushed from the hall ere our horsemen\nwere outside of the gates.  Fearful was the struggle which followed.\nOur men were armed with pine clubs only, which they had hidden beneath\ntheir cloaks, for they dared not bring weapons to the wedding feast.\nThe Lapiths fought with spears; and with pitiless hate they slew one\nafter another of the Centaurs, until hardly a single man escaped to the\nmountains.  But the war ended not with that; for Peirithous, burning\nwith anger, drove the remnant of my people out of their mountain homes,\nand forced them to flee far away to the lonely land of Pindus; and I,\nalone of all my race, was left in my cavern-dwelling on the wooded\nslopes of Pelion.\"\n\nWhen Cheiron had ended his story, Odysseus saw that his eyes were filled\nwith tears, and that his hand trembled as he reached again for his lyre,\nand played a short, sad melody, as mournful as a funeral song.\n\n\"Why did you not go with your kindred to the land of Pindus?\" asked\nPhemius.\n\n\"This is my home,\" answered Cheiron.  \"The fair valley which you see\nyonder was once my father's pasture land.  All the country that lies\nbefore us, even to the meeting of the earth and the sky, is the country\nof my forefathers.  I have neither parents, nor brothers, nor wife, nor\nchildren.  Why should I wish to go away from all that is dear to me?\nThis is a pleasant place, and the young boys who have been my pupils\nhave made my life very happy.\"\n\n\"Please tell us about your pupils,\" said Odysseus, moving nearer to the\nwise old man.\n\n\"So many boys have been under my care,\" said Cheiron, \"that I could not\ntell you about them all. Some have come and been taught, and gone back\nto their homes; and the world has never heard of them, because their\nlots have been cast in pleasant places, and their lives have been spent\nin peace. There have been others who have made their names famous upon\nthe earth; for their paths were beset with difficulties, and before them\nloomed great mountains which they must needs remove or be crushed by\nthem. Among these latter were Heracles, doomed to a life of labor,\nbecause another had usurped the place which he should have had; young\nJason, hiding from the cruel hatred of his uncle Pelias; and gentle\nAsclepius, bereft of a mother's love, and cast friendless upon the\nworld's cold mercies.  And there were also Peleus my grandson, who is\nnow your host at Iolcos; and Actaeon, the famous hunter; and many of the\nheroes who afterward sailed on the Argo, to the golden strand of\nColchis. Each of these lads had a mind of his own, and tastes which it\nwas for me to foster and to train.  Heracles was headstrong, selfish,\nimpulsive,--terrible when he did not bridle his passions; and yet his\ngreat heart was full of love for the poor, the weak, and the\ndown-trodden, and he studied to make plans for lightening their burdens.\nJason loved the water; and wrapped in his cloak, he would sit for hours\non Pelion's top, and gaze with longing eyes upon the purple sea.\nAsclepius delighted to wander among the crags and in the ravines of\nPelion, gathering herbs and flowers, and studying the habits of birds\nand beasts.  And Actaeon had a passion for the woods and the fields, and\nhad ever a pack of swift hounds at his heels, ready for the chase of\nwild boar or mountain deer.\n\n\"When these lads came to me, I saw that I must give to each the food\nwhich was best fitted for his needs, and which his mind most craved.\nHad I dealt with all alike, and taught all the same lessons, I doubt if\nany would have grown to manhood's full estate.  But, while I curbed the\nheadstrong will of Heracles, I did what I could to foster his love of\nvirtue and his inventive genius; I taught young Jason all that I knew\nabout this wonderful earth, and the seas and islands which lie around\nit; I led Asclepius farther along the pathway which he had chosen, and\nshowed him the virtues that were hidden in plants and flowers; I went\nwith Actaeon upon the chase, and taught him that there is no sport in\ncruelty, and that the life of the weakest creature should not be taken\nwithout good cause.  Thus I moulded the mind of each of the lads\naccording to its bent; and each one grew in stature and in strength and\nin beauty, before my eyes.  And then there were general lessons which I\ngave to them all, leading them to the knowledge of those things which\nare necessary to the well-equipped and perfect man of our day.  I taught\nthem how to wield the weapons of warfare and of the chase; how to ride\nand to swim; and how to bear fatigue without murmuring, and face danger\nwithout fear.  And I showed them how to take care of their own bodies,\nso that they might be strong and graceful, and full of health and vigor;\nand I taught them how to heal diseases, and how to treat wounds, and how\nto nurse the sick.  And, more than all else, I taught them to reverence\nand love that great Power, so little understood by us, but whom mankind\nwill some day learn to know.\n\n\"It was not long till Heracles went out in his might to rid the world of\nmonsters, to defend the innocent and the helpless, and to set right that\nwhich is wrong; and, for aught I know, he is toiling still along the\nstraight road of Virtue, towards the blue mountains of Fame.  And Jason,\nas you know, left me, and went down to Iolcos, to claim his birthright\nof old Pelias; and being bidden to bring the Golden Fleece to Hellas, he\nbuilt the Argo, and sailed with the heroes to far-away Colchis.  It was\na proud day for me, his old teacher, when he came back to Iolcos with\nthe glittering treasure; and I trusted that a life of happiness and\nglory was before him.  But, alas! he had forgotten my teaching, and had\njoined himself to evil; and Medea the witch, whom he loved, brought\nuntold misery upon his head, and drove him ere long to an untimely\ndeath.\n\n\"Then Asclepius went out upon his mission; and everywhere that he went,\nhe healed and purified and raised and blessed.  He was the greatest\nconqueror among all my pupils; but he won, not by strength like\nHeracles, nor by guile like Jason, but through gentleness and sympathy\nand brotherly love, and by knowledge and skill and patient\nself-sacrifice; and to him men gave the highest honor, because he cured\nwhile others killed.  But the powers of darkness are ever hateful\ntowards the good; and Hades, when he saw that Asclepius snatched back to\nlife even those who were at death's door, complained that the great\nhealer was robbing his kingdom.  And men say that Zeus hearkened to this\ncomplaint, and that he smote Asclepius with his thunderbolts.  Then the\nface of the sun was veiled in sorrow, and men and beasts and all\ncreatures upon the earth wept for great grief, and the trees dropped\ntheir leaves to the ground, and the flowers closed their petals and\nwithered upon their stalks, because the gentle physician, who had cured\nall pains and sickness, was no longer in the land of the living.  And\nthe wrath of silver-bowed Apollo was stirred within him, and he went\ndown to the great smithy of Hephaestus, and, with his swift arrows, slew\nthe Cyclopes who had forged the thunderbolts for Zeus, and spared not\none. Then Zeus in his turn was filled with anger; and he sent the\ngolden-haired Apollo to Pherae, in Thessaly, to serve for a whole year\nas bondsman to King Admetus.\"[4]\n\n\n[4] See Note 7 at the end of this volume.\n\n\nAt this moment, a tall and very handsome lad, whom Odysseus had not yet\nseen, came into the room.  He was not more than six years old; his long\namber hair fell in waves upon his shoulders; his eyes twinkled and\nflashed like the sunlight on the blue sea waves; he held his head erect,\nand he walked with a noble grace which betokened the proud soul within\nhis breast. The eyes of Odysseus were fixed upon him, and he wondered\nwho this noble human being could be. Cheiron saw his questioning look,\nand called the young lad to him.\n\n\"Odysseus,\" said he, \"this is my great-grandchild, young Achilles, the\nson of King Peleus your host. Something tells me that your life and his\nwill in after-times be strangely mingled; whether as friends or as foes,\nI cannot tell.  You shall be friends to-day, at least, and after a while\nyou shall go out together, and try your skill at archery.  But,\nAchilles, you may go now and play with your fellows: I have something\nmore to say to young Odysseus.\"\n\nThe lad turned, and left the room as gracefully as he had entered.  Then\nCheiron turned again to Odysseus and the bard.\n\n\"I was telling you about my pupils,\" he said; \"and I will speak of but\none other, for there are reasons why you should know his history.\nPeleus, the son of AEacus and my loved daughter Endeis, was brought to\nme by his mother from AEgina.  There was something in the boy's face\nwhich showed that a strange, sad life was to be his; and, although he\nwas not a promising lad, yet when he left me to go with Jason to\nColchis, I felt great grief at losing him.  But by and by, after the\nheroes had returned, I heard that Peleus had done many wicked things in\nAEgina, and that he had been driven into exile for his crimes.  He went\nfirst to Ceyx in Thessaly, a lonely wanderer, cast off and forsaken by\nall his friends.  And a story is told, that in his loneliness and his\nsorrow, he one day prayed to Zeus that he would give him companions.\nAnd Zeus heard his prayer, and great armies of ants were changed at once\ninto men; and they did homage to Peleus, and became his subjects, and\nhence he is still called the King of the Myrmidons.  Then he went to\nPhthia where Eurytion reigned.  And Eurytion purified him from his\ncrimes, and gave him his daughter Antigone in wedlock, and with her the\nthird of his kingdom.  But in an evil day they hunted the wild boar\ntogether in the woods of Calydon, and Peleus unwittingly slew his friend\nwith an ill-aimed arrow.  Then he fled from the people of Phthia, and\ncame to Iolcos, where Acastus, the son of old Pelias, ruled.  And\nAcastus welcomed him kindly, and purified him from the stain of\nEurytion's death, and gave him of the best of all that he had, and\nentertained him for a long time as his guest.  But Astydamia, the wife\nof King Acastus, falsely accused Peleus of another crime, and besought\nher husband to slay him.  Then the heart of Acastus was sad, for he\nwould not shed the blood of one who was his guest.  But he persuaded\nPeleus to join him in hunting wild beasts in the woods of Pelion; for he\nhoped that then some way might open for him to rid himself of the\nunfortunate man.  All day long they toiled up and down the slopes; they\nclimbed the steep cliffs; they forced their way through brakes and\nbriery thickets; and at last Peleus was so overwearied that he sank down\non a bed of moss, and fell asleep.  Then Acastus slyly took his weapons\nfrom him, and left him there alone and unarmed, hoping that the wild\nbeasts would find and slay him.  When Peleus awoke, he saw himself\nsurrounded by mountain robbers; he felt for his sword, but it was gone;\neven his shield was nowhere to be found.  He called aloud to Acastus,\nbut the king was dining at that moment in Iolcos.  I heard his cry,\nhowever; I knew his voice, and I hastened to his aid.  The robbers fled\nwhen they saw me coming; and I led my dear but erring grandson back to\nmy cavern, where the days of his boyhood and innocence had been spent.\n\n\"But I see that the sun is sinking in the west.  I will say no more\nuntil after we have partaken of food.\"\n\nWith these words Cheiron arose, and left the room. Odysseus, anxious to\nbecome acquainted with the lads, arose also, and walked out into the\nopen air.  Achilles was waiting for him just outside the door, and the\ntwo boys were soon talking with each other as if they had long been\nfriends.\n\n\n\n\n                          _*ADVENTURE VIII.*_\n\n                          *THE GOLDEN APPLE.*\n\n\nAfter the evening meal had been eaten and the cave-hall set in order,\nthe lads brought armloads of dry sticks and twigs, and threw them upon\nthe fire.  And the flame leaped up, and shone upon all around with a\nruddy glow; and the great cavern was emptied of gloom, and was so filled\nwith light and warmth that it seemed a fit place for joy and pleasure.\nOld Cheiron sat upon his high couch like a king upon his throne; and the\nfive comely lads, with Odysseus, sat before him, while Phemius the bard\nstood leaning against the wall.  After Cheiron had played a brief melody\nupon his harp, and the boys had sung a pleasant song, the wise old\nmaster thus began:--\n\n\n\"There is a cavern somewhere on Mount Pelion larger by far and a\nthousand times more beautiful than this; but its doorway is hidden to\nmortals, and but few men have ever stood beneath its vaulted roof.  In\nthat cavern the ever-living ones who oversee the affairs of men, once\nheld high carnival; for they had met there at the marriage feast of King\nPeleus, and the woods and rocks of mighty Pelion echoed with the sound\nof their merry making.  But wherefore should the marriage feast of a\nmortal be held in such a place and with guests so noble and so great?  I\nwill tell you.\n\n\"After Peleus had escaped from the plot which King Acastus had laid for\nhim, he dwelt long time with me; for he feared to go down upon the plain\nlest the men of Iolcos should seize him by order of Acastus, or the folk\nof Phthia should kill him in revenge for old Eurytion's death.  But the\ndays seemed long to him, thus shut out from fellowship with men, and the\nsun seemed to move slowly in the heavens; and often he would walk around\nto the other side of the mountain, and sitting upon a great rock, he\nwould gaze for long hours upon the purple waters of the sea.  One\nmorning as thus he sat, he saw the sea nymph Thetis come up out of the\nwaves and walk upon the shore beneath him. Fairer than a dream was\nshe,--more beautiful than any picture of nymph or goddess.  She was clad\nin a robe of sea-green silk, woven by the Naiads in their watery\ngrottos; and there was a chaplet of pearls upon her head, and sandals of\nsparkling silver were upon her feet.\n\n\"As Peleus gazed upon this lovely creature, he heard a voice whispering\nin his ear.  It was the voice of Pallas Athene.\n\n[Illustration: THE SILVER-FOOTED THETIS RISING FROM THE WAVES.]\n\n\"'Most luckless of mortal men,' she said, 'there is recompense in store\nfor those who repent of their wrong-doing, and who, leaving the paths of\nerror, turn again to the road of virtue.  The immortals have seen thy\nsorrow for the evil deeds of thy youth, and they have looked with pity\nupon thee in thy misfortunes. And now thy days of exile and of sore\npunishment are drawing to an end.  Behold the silver-footed Thetis, most\nbeautiful of the nymphs of the sea, whom even the immortals have wooed\nin vain!  She has been sent to this shore, to be won and wedded by\nthee.'\n\n\"Peleus looked up to see the speaker of these words, but he beheld only\na blue cloud resting above the mountain-top; he turned his eyes downward\nagain, and, to his grief, the silver-footed Thetis had vanished in the\nwaves.  All day he sat and waited for her return, but she came not.\nWhen darkness began to fall he sought me in my cave-hall, and told me\nwhat he had seen and heard; and I taught him how to win the sea nymph\nfor his bride.\n\n\"So when the sun again gilded the crags of Pelion, brave Peleus hid\nhimself among the rocks close by the sea-washed shore, and waited for\nthe coming of the silver-footed lady of the sea.  In a little time she\nrose, beautiful as the star of morning, from the waves.  She sat down\nupon the beach, and dallied with her golden tresses, and sang sweet\nsongs of a happy land in the depths of the sounding sea.  Peleus,\nbearing in mind what I had taught him, arose from his hiding-place, and\ncaught the beauteous creature in his arms.  In vain did she struggle to\nleap into the waves.  Seven times she changed her form as he held her:\nby turns she changed into a fountain of water, into a cloud of mist,\ninto a burning flame, and into a senseless rock.  But Peleus held her\nfast; and she changed then into a tawny lion, and then into a tall tree,\nand lastly she took her own matchless form again.\n\n\"And Peleus held the lovely Thetis by the hand, and they walked long\ntime together upon the beach, while the birds sang among the leafy trees\non Pelion's slopes, and the dolphins sported in the sparkling waters at\ntheir feet; and Peleus wooed the silver-footed lady, and won her love,\nand she promised to be his bride.  Then the immortals were glad; and\nthey fitted up the great cavern on Mount Pelion for a banquet hall, and\nmade therein a wedding feast, such as was never seen before.  The\nvaulted roof of the cavern was decked with gems which shone like the\nstars of heaven; a thousand torches, held by lovely mountain nymphs,\nflamed from the niches in the high walls; and upon the floor of polished\nmarble, tables for ten thousand guests were ranged.\n\n\"When the wedding feast was ready, all those who live on high Olympus,\nand all the immortals who dwell upon the earth, came to rejoice with\nKing Peleus and his matchless bride; and they brought rich presents for\nthe bridegroom, such as were never given to another man.  They gave him\na suit of armor, rich and fair, a wonder to behold, which lame\nHephaestus with rare skill had wrought and fashioned.  Poseidon bestowed\non him the deathless horses, Balios and Xanthos, and a deftly-wrought\nchariot with trimmings of gold.  And I, one of the least of the guests,\ngave him an ashen spear which I had cut on Pelion's top, and fashioned\nwith my own hands.\n\n\"At the table sat Zeus, the father of gods and men; and his wife, the\nwhite-armed Here; and smile-loving Aphrodite; and gray-eyed Pallas\nAthene; and all the wisest and the fairest of the immortals.  The\nNereides, nymphs of the sea, danced in honor of Thetis their sister; and\nthe Muses sang their sweetest songs; and silver-bowed Apollo played upon\nthe lyre.  The Fates, too, were there: sad Clotho, twirling her spindle;\nunloving Lachesis, with wrinkled lips ready to speak the fatal word; and\npitiless Atropos, holding in her hand the unsparing shears.  And around\nthe table passed the youthful and joy-giving Hebe, pouring out rich\ndraughts of nectar for the guests.\n\n\"Yet there was one among all the immortals who had not been invited to\nthe wedding; it was Eris, the daughter of War and Hate.  Her scowling\nfeatures, and her hot and hasty manners, were ill-suited to grace a\nfeast where all should be mirth and gladness; yet in her evil heart she\nplanned to be avenged for the slight which had been put upon her.  While\nthe merry-making was at its height, and the company were listening to\nthe music from Apollo's lyre, she came unseen into the hall, and threw a\ngolden apple upon the table.  No one knew whence the apple came; but on\nit were written these words, 'FOR THE FAIREST.'\n\n\"'To whom does it belong?' asked Zeus, stroking his brows in sad\nperplexity.\n\n\"The music ceased, and mirth and jollity fled at once from the banquet.\nThe torches, which lit up the scene, flickered and smoked; the lustre of\nthe gems in the vaulted roof was dimmed; dark clouds canopied the great\nhall: for Discord had taken her place at the table, uninvited and\nunwelcome though she was.\n\n\"'The apple belongs to me,' said Here, trying to snatch it; 'for I am\nthe queen, and gods and men honor me as having no peer on earth.'\n\n\"'Not so!' cried white-armed Aphrodite.  'With me dwell Love and Joy;\nand not only do gods and men sing my praises, but all nature rejoices in\nmy presence. The apple is mine, and I will have it!'\n\n\"Then Athene joined in the quarrel.  'What is it to be a queen,' said\nshe, 'if at the same time one lacks that good temper which sweetens\nlife?  What is it to have a handsome form and face, while the mind is\nuncouth and ill-looking?  Beauty of mind is better than beauty of face;\nfor the former is immortal, while the latter fades and dies.  Hence no\none has a better right than I to be called the fairest.'\n\n\"Then the strife spread among the guests in the hall, each taking sides\nwith the goddess that he loved best; and, where peace and merriment had\nreigned, now hot words and bitter wrangling were heard.  And had not\nZeus bidden them keep silence, thus putting an end to the quarrel, all\nPelion would have been rent, and the earth shaken to its centre in the\nmelee that would have followed.\n\n\"'Let us waste no words over this matter,' he said. 'It is not for the\nimmortals to say who of their number is most beautiful.  But on the\nslopes of Mount Ida, far across the sea, the fairest of the sons of\nmen--Paris, the son of Trojan Priam--keeps his flocks; let him judge who\nis fairest, and let the apple be hers to whom he gives it.'\n\n\"Then Hermes, the swift-footed messenger, arose, and led the three\ngoddesses over sea and land to distant Ida, where Paris, with no thought\nof the wonderful life which lay before him, piped on his shepherd's\nreeds, and tended his flock of sheep.\"\n\n\nHere Cheiron paused in his story; and the five lads, who had heard it\noftentimes before, bade him a kind good-night, and withdrew into an\ninner chamber to pass the hours in sleep.  When more wood had been\nthrown upon the fire, and the flames leaped up high and bright towards\nthe roof of the cave, Odysseus and Phemius sat down again before the\nwise old master, and asked him to finish the tale which he had begun.\n\n\"But first tell us,\" said Odysseus, \"about that Paris, who was to award\nthe golden apple to the one whom he should deem the fairest.\"\n\nThen Cheiron smiled, and went on thus with his story:--\n\n\"On the other side of the sea there stands a city, rich and mighty, the\nlike of which there is none in Hellas.  There an old man, named Priam,\nrules over a happy and peace-loving people.  He dwells in a great palace\nof polished marble, on a hill overlooking the plain; and his granaries\nare stored with corn, and his flocks and herds are pastured on the hills\nand mountain slopes behind the city.  Many sons has King Priam; and they\nare brave and noble youths, well worthy of such a father.  The eldest of\nthese sons is Hector, who, the Trojans hope, will live to bring great\nhonor to his native land.  Just before the second son was born, a\nstrange thing troubled the family of old Priam.  The queen had dreamed\nthat her babe had turned into a firebrand, which burned up the walls and\nthe high towers of Troy, and left but smouldering ashes where once the\nproud city stood.  She told the king her dream; and when the child was\nborn, they called a soothsayer, who could foresee the mysteries of the\nfuture, and they asked him what the vision meant.\n\n\"'It means,' said he, 'that this babe, if he lives, shall be a firebrand\nin Troy, and shall turn its walls and its high towers into heaps of\nsmouldering ashes.\"\n\n\"'But what shall be done with the child, that he may not do this\nterrible thing?\" asked Priam, greatly sorrowing, for the babe was very\nbeautiful.\n\n\"'Do not suffer that he shall live,' answered the soothsayer.\n\n\"But Priam, the gentlest and most kind-hearted of men, could not bear to\nharm the babe.  So he called Archelaus, his master shepherd, and bade\nhim take the helpless child into the thick woods, which grow high up on\nthe slopes of Ida, and there to leave him alone.  The wild beasts that\nroam among those woods, he thought, would doubtless find him, or, in any\ncase, he could not live long without care and nourishment; and thus the\ndangerous brand would be quenched while yet it was scarcely a spark.\n\n\"The shepherd did as he was bidden, although it cost his heart many a\nsharp pang thus to deal barbarously with the innocent.  He laid the\nsmiling infant, wrapped in its broidered tunic, close by the foot of an\noak, and then hurried away that he might not hear its cries.  But the\nDryads, who haunt the woods and groves, saw the babe, and pitied its\nhelplessness, and cared for it so that it did not die.  Some brought it\nyellow honey from the stores of the wild bees; some fed it with milk\nfrom the white goats that pastured on the mountainside; and others stood\nas sentinels around it, guarding it from the wolves and bears.  Thus\nfive days passed, and Archelaus the shepherd, who could not forget the\nbabe, came cautiously to the spot to see if, mayhap, even its broidered\ncloak had been spared by the beasts.  Sorrowful and shuddering he\nglanced toward the foot of the tree.  To his surprise, the babe was\nstill there; it looked up and smiled, and stretched its fat hands toward\nhim.  The shepherd's heart would not let him turn away the second time.\nHe took the child in his arms, and carried it to his own humble home in\nthe valley, where he cared for it and brought it up as his own son.\n\n\"The boy grew to be very tall and very handsome; and he was so brave,\nand so helpful to the shepherds around Mount Ida, that they called him\nAlexandras, or the helper of men; but his foster-father named him Paris.\nAnd as he tended his sheep in the mountain dells, he met OEnone, the\nfairest of the river-maidens, guileless and pure as the waters of the\nstream by whose banks she loved to wander.  Day after day he sat with\nher in the shadow of her woodland home, and talked of innocence and\nbeauty, and of a life of sweet contentment, and of love; and the maiden\nlistened to him with wide-open eyes and a heart full of trustfulness and\nfaith. Then, by and by, Paris and OEnone were wedded; and their little\ncottage in the mountain glen was the fairest and happiest spot in Ilios.\nThe days sped swiftly by, and neither of them dreamed that any sorrow\nwas in store for them; and to OEnone her shepherd-husband was all the\nworld, because he was so noble and brave and handsome and gentle.\n\n\"One warm summer afternoon, Paris sat in the shade of a tree at the foot\nof Mount Ida, while his flocks were pasturing upon the hillside before\nhim.  The bees were humming lazily among the flowers; the cicadas were\nchirping among the leaves above his head; and now and then a bird\ntwittered softly among the bushes behind him.  All else was still, as if\nenjoying to the full the delicious calm of that pleasant day.  Paris was\nfashioning a slender reed into a shepherd's flute; while OEnone, sitting\nin the deeper shadows of some clustering vines, was busy with some\nsimple piece of needle-work. A sound as of sweet music caused the young\nshepherd to raise his eyes.  Before him stood the four immortals, Here,\nAthene, Aphrodite, and Hermes the messenger; their faces shone with a\ndazzling radiance, and they were fairer than any tongue can describe.\nAt their feet rare flowers sprang up, crocuses and asphodels and white\nlilies; and the air was filled with the odor of orange blossoms.  Paris,\nscarce knowing what he did, arose to greet them.  No handsomer youth\never stood in the presence of beauty.  Straight as a mountain pine was\nhe; a leopard skin hung carelessly upon his shoulders; his head was\nbare, but his locks clustered round his temples in sunny curls, and\nformed fit framework for his fair brows.\n\n\"Then Hermes spoke first: 'Paris, we have come to seek thy help; there\nis strife among the folk who dwell on Mount Olympus.  Here are Here,\nAthene, and Aphrodite, each claiming to be the fairest, and each\nclamoring for this prize, this golden apple.  Now we pray that you will\njudge this matter, and give the apple to the one whom you may deem most\nbeautiful.'\n\n\"Then Here began her plea at once: 'I know that I am the fairest,' she\nsaid, 'for I am queen, and mine it is to rule among gods and men.  Give\nme the prize, and you shall have wealth, and a kingdom, and great glory;\nand men in after-times shall sing your praises.'\n\n\"And Paris was half tempted to give the apple, without further ado, to\nHere the proud queen.  But gray-eyed Athene spoke: 'There is that, fair\nyouth, which is better than riches or honor or great glory.  Listen to\nme, and I will give thee wisdom and a pure heart; and thy life shall be\ncrowned with peace, and sweetened with love, and made strong by\nknowledge.  And though men may not sing of thee in after-times, thou\nshalt find lasting happiness in the answer of a good conscience towards\nall things.'\n\n\"Then OEnone whispered from her place among the leaves, 'Give the prize\nto Athene; she is the fairest.'  And Paris would have placed the golden\napple in her hand, had not Aphrodite stepped quickly forward, and in the\nsweetest, merriest tones, addressed him.\n\n\"'You may look at my face, and judge for yourself as to whether I am\nfair,' said she, laughing, and tossing her curls.  'All I shall say is\nthis: Give me the prize, and you shall have for your wife the most\nbeautiful woman in the world.'\n\n\"The heart of OEnone stood still as Paris placed the apple in\nAphrodite's hand; and a nameless dread came over her, as if the earth\nwere sinking beneath her feet. But the next moment the blood came back\nto her cheeks, and she breathed free and strong again; for she heard\nParis say, 'I have a wife, OEnone, who to me is the loveliest of\nmortals, and I care not for your offer; yet I give to you the apple, for\nI know that you are the fairest among the deathless ones who live on\nhigh Olympus.'\n\n\"On the very next day it happened that King Priam sat thoughtfully in\nhis palace, and all his boys and girls--nearly fifty in number--were\nabout him.  His mind turned sadly to the little babe whom he had sent\naway, many years ago, to die alone on wooded Ida. And he said to\nhimself, 'The child has been long dead, and yet no feast has been given\nto the gods that they may make his little spirit glad in the shadowy\nland of Hades.  This must not be neglected longer.  Within three days a\nfeast must be made, and we will hold games in his honor.'\n\n\"Then he called his servants, and bade them go to the pastures on Mount\nIda, and choose from the herds that were there the fattest and\nhandsomest bull, to be given as a prize to the winner in the games. And\nhe proclaimed through all Ilios, that on the third day there would be a\ngreat feast in Troy, and games would be held in honor of the little babe\nwho had died twenty years before.  Now, when the servants came to Mount\nIda, they chose a bull for which Paris had long cared, and which he\nloved more than any other. And he would not let the beast be driven from\nthe pasture until it was agreed that he might go to the city with it and\ncontend in the games for the prize.  But OEnone, the river nymph, wept\nand prayed him not to go.\n\n\"'Leave not the pleasant pasture lands of Ida, even for a day,' said\nshe; 'for my heart tells me that you will not return.'\n\n\"'Think not so, my fair one,' said Paris.  'Did not Aphrodite promise\nthat the most beautiful woman in the world shall be my wife?  And who is\nmore beautiful than my own OEnone?  Dry now your tears; for when I have\nwon the prizes in the games I will come back to you, and never leave you\nagain.'\n\n\"Then the grief of OEnone waxed still greater.  'If you will go,' she\ncried, 'then hear my warning! Long years shall pass ere you shall come\nagain to wooded Ida, and the hearts which now are young shall grow old\nand feeble by reason of much sorrow.  Cruel war and many dire disasters\nshall overtake you, and death shall be nigh unto you; and then OEnone,\nalthough long forgotten by you, will hasten to your side, to help and to\nheal and to forgive, that so the old love may live again.  Farewell!'\n\n\"But Paris kissed his wife, and hastened, light of heart, to Troy.  How\ncould it be otherwise but that, in the games which followed, the\nhandsome young shepherd should carry off all the prizes?\n\n\"'Who are you?' asked the king.\n\n\"'My name is Paris,' answered the shepherd, 'and I feed the flocks and\nherds on wooded Ida.'\n\n\"Then Hector, full of wrath because of his own failure to win a prize,\ncame forward to dispute with Paris.\n\n\"'Stand there, Hector,' cried old Priam; 'stand close to the young\nshepherd, and let us look at you!'  Then turning to the queen, he asked,\n'Did you ever see two so nearly alike?  The shepherd is fairer and of\nslighter build, it is true; but they have the same eye, the same frown,\nthe same smile, the same motion of the shoulders, the same walk.  Ah,\nwhat if the young babe did not die after all?'\n\n\"Then Priam's daughter Cassandra, who has the gift of prophecy, cried\nout, 'Oh, blind of eye and heart, that you cannot see in this young\nshepherd the child whom you sent to sleep the sleep of death on Ida's\nwooded slopes!'\n\n\"And so it came about, that Paris was taken into his father's house, and\ngiven the place of honor which was his by right.  And he forgot OEnone\nhis fair young wife, and left her to pine in loneliness among the woods\nand in the narrow dells of sunny Ida.\"[1]\n\n\n[1] See Note 8 at the end of this volume.\n\n\nBy this time the fire had burned low upon the hearth, and Cheiron the\nmaster would fain have ended his talk.  But Odysseus was anxious to hear\nmore.\n\n\"To-morrow,\" said he, \"we must go back to Iolcos, for perchance the\nships of Peleus may then be ready to sail.  So tell us, I pray you, yet\nmore about that strange wedding feast in the cavern halls of Pelion.\"\n\n\"There is little more to tell,\" said the master. \"After the feast, King\nPeleus went down with his bride into Phthia; and there his Myrmidons,\nwho had waited so long for his coming, rallied around him, ready to help\nhim in any undertaking.  And they marched upon Iolcos, and entered the\ngates, carrying all before them; and they slew King Acastus, and set\nPeleus on his throne.  Thus ended this hero's days of exile; and now for\nseven years he has ruled Iolcos and Phthia both wisely and well; yet,\nthough you have found him at this season of the year in Iolcos, he loves\nbest his old home of Phthia, where dwell his Myrmidons.\"\n\n\"Please tell me about his son, fair young Achilles, who is here in your\nhall,\" said Odysseus.\n\nCheiron answered briefly by telling him how the young lad's mother, the\nsea nymph Thetis, had longed to make her son immortal; and how it was\nsaid that she each night threw him into the fire to purge away whatever\nmortal stains might cling to him; and how each day she anointed him with\nambrosia, and sang him to sleep with sweet lullabies of the sea.\n\n\"But one night,\" added Cheiron, \"King Peleus happened to see the babe\nlying in the fire; and in his fright he cried out, and snatched him from\nthe coals. Then Thetis sorrowfully gave up her plan; and the boy was\nsent to me, that I might train him in all that goes to the making of a\nman.  There are those who say that I feed the lad on the hearts of\nlions, and the marrow of bears and wild boars; and those may believe the\nstory who wish to do so.  But I have lived long enough to know that\nthere are other and better ways of training up heroes and fitting them\nfor the strife of battle.\"\n\nAnd thus the long talk with Cheiron, the wise master, ended; and\nOdysseus retired to his couch, and was soon dreaming of far-away Ithaca\nand of his anxious mother, who was even then hoping for his return.\n\nThe next morning the lad and his tutor went down the mountain; and,\nfollowing the pathway which Jason had taken when he went to claim his\nbirthright of Pelias, they came, in good time, back to Iolcos by the\nsea.  There they found that a ship was just making ready to sail for\nCorinth; and bidding a hasty farewell to King Peleus, and to bold\nEchion, who still tarried there, they embarked, and were soon well on\ntheir way.  The voyage was a long and hard one; but kind Athene favored\nthem, and Poseidon gave them smooth waters and many pleasant days upon\nthe sea.  Nor were they delayed at Corinth; for they found waiting there\na ship, which Laertes had sent out on purpose to meet them and bring\nthem home.  And so, before the autumn had closed, Odysseus, much wiser\nand stronger than he was when he departed, gazed with glad eyes once\nmore upon the shores of sea-girt Ithaca.\n\n\n\n\n                           _*ADVENTURE IX.*_\n\n                            *THE SWINEHERD.*\n\n\nWhen Odysseus stepped ashore upon the sandy beach of Ithaca, the good\npeople of the town, both young and old, had gathered there to welcome\nhim; and they sang a song of greeting like that with which they were\nwont to meet their returning heroes.  He staid only a moment to speak\nwith them.  With winged feet he hastened to the hall where his queenly\nmother waited for his coming.  She threw her arms about him, and in the\nfulness of her joy wept aloud; and she kissed his head and his eyes and\nboth his hands, and welcomed him as one saved from death.\n\n\"Thou hast come at last, Odysseus,\" she said. \"The light is not more\nsweet to me.  I feared that I should never see thee more, when I heard\nthat thou hadst gone from Parnassus to distant Pelion.  Come now, and\nsit before me as of yore, and let me look into those eyes which have\nbeen so long time away.\"\n\nAnd Laertes, too, folded the boy in his arms, and kissed him, and plied\nhim with a thousand questions which he could not answer.  Then, in the\nhalls of the king, a feast was made ready, and the day was given over to\nmusic and merry-making; and all the people joined in offering thanks to\nPallas Athene, who had brought the wanderer safe home to his friends and\nhis kindred.\n\nWhen the evening had come, and the guests had gone to their own homes,\nOdysseus sat upon a low stool at his mother's feet, while she asked him\nmany questions about her aged sire Autolycus, and about the dear home of\nher girlhood on the farther side of Mount Parnassus.  And he told her of\nall that she asked him, and of the wonderful things that he had seen and\nheard in far-away lands and seas.\n\n\"But were you not afraid that evil would befall you, and that your eyes\nwould never more behold fair Ithaca?\" asked his mother, tenderly\nstroking his yellow hair.\n\n\"Nightly I prayed to Pallas Athene,\" answered the lad, \"and she watched\nkindly over me every hour. Who would be afraid when shielded and led by\nso great a friend?  Then, too, good Phemius questioned the Pythian\noracle about me; and the answer was such as to make me sure of safety.\nIt was this:--\n\n    'To home and kindred he shall safe return ere long,\n    With scars well-won, and greeted with triumphal song.'\"\n\n\n\"Well,\" said Laertes, \"the oracle doubtless spoke the truth.  We know\nthat you have returned to your home, and that you have been greeted with\nsongs, but I fear you have yet to gain the scars.\"\n\n\"Not so, father,\" answered Odysseus.  And then he showed them the great\nwhite scar which the tusk of the wild boar had made upon his knee; and\nhe told them of the famous hunt in the woods of Parnassus, and of the\ndays of pain and enforced quiet which he had afterward spent on an\ninvalid's couch.  And all those who listened to his story were struck\nwith the wisdom of his thoughts; and they wondered at the choice beauty\nof the words which fell from his lips, soft and persuasive like the\nflakes of snow on a quiet day in winter.\n\nAfter this, many pleasant days came and passed. The simple-hearted folk\nof Ithaca went about their tasks as of yore,--some tending their flocks\nin the mountain pastures, some gathering the autumn fruits from the\noverladen trees, and some twirling the spindle or plying the loom in\ntheir humble homes.  King Laertes himself worked early and late in his\nvineyards or in his well-tilled orchard grounds; and Odysseus was often\nwith him, as busy as he, tending his own trees and vines.  For, long\ntime before, when he was but a little child, the boy had walked through\nthese grounds with his father, and had asked the names of the trees. And\nLaertes had not only answered the prattler, but had given him a whole\nsmall orchard for his own: of pear trees, thirteen; of apple trees, ten;\nof fig trees, forty; and he promised to give him fifty rows of vines,\neach of which ripened at a different time, with all manner of clusters\non their boughs.\n\nSometimes Odysseus went out with other boys of his age, to ramble among\nthe hills and on the wooded mountain slopes.  Sometimes they played at\nball in the open field, or loitered around the flowing spring whence the\npeople of the town drew water.  This well had been digged and walled by\nIthacus and Neritus, the first settlers of the island; and close by it\nwas a thicket of reeds and alders, growing green and rank from the boggy\nsoil; while, on the rock from beneath which the ice-cold water gushed,\nan altar had been built, where all wayfarers laid some offering for the\nnymphs.  This was a lovely spot; and in the heat of the day, the boys\nwould often sit in the cool shade of the trees, and play a quiet game\nwith pebbles, or talk about the noble deeds of the heroes.\n\nOnce they wandered far over the hills to the sheltered woodland where\nthe swine of Laertes were kept.  There, near the rock called Corax, was\nthe spring of Arethusa, around which grew many great oak trees, yielding\nabundance of acorns.  There the slave Eumaeus lived in a humble lodge of\nhis own building, and fed and tended his master's swine, far from the\nhomes of other men.\n\nWhen the swineherd saw Odysseus, and knew that he was the master's son,\nhe ran to welcome him and his comrades to his lowly home.  He led them\nto the lodge, and took them in, and strewed fragrant leaves upon the\nfloor, and stirred the blazing fire upon the hearth. Then he hastened to\nthe sties where the fattest young pigs were penned.  Two of these he\nkilled and dressed; and when he had cut them in pieces, he roasted the\nchoicest parts on spits before the fire.  Then he set the smoking food\nupon a table before Odysseus and his comrades, and sprinkled it all over\nwith white barley-meal.  After this, he mixed honey-sweet wine with\nwater in a wooden bowl, and sat down to the feast with them.  Right\nheartily did they eat and drink, and many were the pleasant jests that\nwere passed among them. When they had finished, Odysseus said,--\n\n\"Swineherd Eumaeus, you have fed us right nobly, and there is nothing\nmore welcome to tired and hungry boys than plenty of well-seasoned food.\nSurely one who can serve so royally as you have done was not born a\nslave?\"\n\n\"Nor indeed was I,\" answered Eumaeus.  \"In my childhood I was a prince,\nnoble as yourself.  But the Fates bring strange fortunes to some men,\nand strangely have I been tossed about in the world.\"\n\n\"Do tell us,\" said Odysseus, \"how this great change was made in your\nlife.  Was the goodly town in which your father and your lady mother\ndwelt, laid waste by an enemy?  Or did unfriendly men find you in the\nfields alone, and sell you to him who would pay the goodliest price?\"\n\n[Illustration: THE SWINEHERD TELLING HIS STORY TO ODYSSEUS.]\n\n\"Since you ask me for my story, young master,\" said Eumaeus, \"I will\ntell it you.  But sit you here upon this couch of goat skins while you\nlisten, for I know that your long walk has wearied you.\n\n\"Far out in the sea there is an island called Syria, above which the sun\nturns in its course.  It is not very thickly peopled, but it is rich in\nvineyards and wheatfields, and in pastures where thousands of cattle\ngraze. There no one ever goes hungry for lack of food, and sickness\nnever comes; but when men grow old, then silver-bowed Apollo, and\nArtemis his huntress sister, strike them with their noiseless arrows,\nand they cease to live.  In that island stand two cities, fair and rich;\nand over them both my father is sole lord and king. There, in his white\nhalls where care never enters, my infancy was passed; and never did I\ndream of the hard lot which the pitiless Fates had decreed for me.\n\n\"One day there came to our island some Phoenician merchants, shrewd\nseafaring men, intent on trade and profit.  In their ship they brought\ncountless trinkets to barter with our folk for corn and wine; and they\nmoored their vessel in the harbor close to the shore. In my father's\nhouse there dwelt a Phoenician slave-woman, tall and fair, and skilled\nin needlework.  And when the merchants knew that she spoke their\nlanguage, they asked her who she was and from whence she came.\n\n\"'In Sidon I was born,' she answered, 'and Arybas my father was one of\nthe wealthiest of Sidonian merchants.  Once as I was walking on the\nshore, a band of Taphian sea-robbers seized me unawares, and carried me\nin their dark-hulled ship across the sea.  They brought me to this\nfar-distant island, and sold me, for much gold, to the man who lives in\nyonder palace.'  And she pointed to my father's lofty dwelling.\n\n\"Then the merchants asked her if she would return with them to Sidon,\nwhere she might again behold her father and mother, and the sweet home\nof her girlhood. And she consented, only asking that they pledge\nthemselves to take her safely home.\n\n\"'Now say no more,' she said; 'and should any of you meet me on the road\nor by the well, hold your tongues, and let no word be spoken between us.\nBut when you have sold your goods, and have filled your ship with corn\nand wine, send some one to the house who shall tell me secretly.  Then I\nwill hie me to your swift-sailing vessel, bringing gold wherewith to pay\nmy fare, and, if fortune favor, even more than gold.  For I am nurse to\nthe little son of my master, a cunning prattler whom I often take with\nme in my walks.  I will bring him on board your ship, and when you have\nreached some rich foreign land you can sell him for a goodly price.'\n\n\"And thus having settled upon a plan, the Phoenician woman went back to\nmy father's halls; and the merchants staid a whole year in our harbor,\nand filled their ship with grain.  But when at last they were ready to\nsail, they sent a messenger to tell the woman. He came to our house with\nmany trinkets, bracelets, and golden necklaces, which pleased the eyes\nof my lady mother and her maidens.  And while they were looking, and\nasking the price, he signed to my Phoenician nurse, and straightway\ngathered up his goods, and hastened back to his fellows.  When the sun\nwent down, the woman took my hand, and led me from the house as she had\noften done before.  Thoughtlessly I followed her to the shore where the\nfast-sailing ship was moored. The Phoenicians took us both on board;\nthey hoisted the broad sail, and a brisk wind quickly carried us far\naway from my home and friends.  On the seventh day, Artemis the archer\nqueen smote the woman with her silent arrows, and her eyes saw no more\nthe sweet light of heaven.  Then the crew cast her forth into the sea,\nto be food for fishes and the sea calves; and I was left alone and\nstricken with grief and fear.  But the swift ship brought us ere long to\nIthaca, and there those who had stolen me bartered me to Laertes for a\ngoodly price.  And that is why I am your father's thrall, and dwell here\nlonely underneath these sheltering oaks.\"[1]\n\n\n[1] See Note 9 at the end of this volume.\n\n\nSuch was the tale which the swineherd told Odysseus and his young\ncompanions as they sat together in the lodge.\n\n\"I pity thee, Eumaeus,\" said the lad.  \"Thy story is indeed a sad one;\nand, could I do so, I would gladly send thee back to far-off Syria where\nthy mother sorrows even yet for thee.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" answered the swineherd.  \"There is no hope.  No ship will ever\nsail through the unknown sea-ways which lead to my boyhood's home.  My\nlife must be spent in this spot; yet I am happy in knowing that my\nmaster is the kindest of men, and that I shall be well provided for.\nEven a slave may find enjoyment if his heart be right; for it is the\nmind, and not the force of outward things, that makes us rich and free.\"\n\n\n\n\n                            _*ADVENTURE X.*_\n\n                     *THE SEA ROBBERS OF MESSENE.*\n\n\nFive years passed quietly by, and brought few changes to Ithaca.  The\nflocks still grazed in their mountain pastures; the orchard trees still\nbent under their loads of ripening fruit; the vines still yielded their\ntreasures of purple and red.  The simple-hearted islanders arose each\nday with the coming of the dawn; they went about their tasks with\ncheerfulness; they sang, and danced, and ate their accustomed meals, and\nthen with the coming of night they lay down to sleep: to them, all days\nwere alike, and life was but one pleasant round of duties.  But King\nLaertes, as he grew older, sought more and more the quiet of his farm\nand garden; and, for the most part, he allowed his little kingdom to\ntake care of itself, and his subjects to do as they pleased.\n\nAnd in these five years young Odysseus had become a man.  He had grown\nnot so much in stature as in wisdom, nor yet so much in size of limb and\nbody as in strength of bone and muscle.  There was nothing in his face\nor figure that could be called handsome, and yet he was the pride of\nIthaca.  For, in all the deeds and feats most worthy of men, he was\nwithout a peer. In wrestling and leaping, in rowing and swimming, in\nshooting with the bow, and in handling the heavy spear, there was no one\nthat could equal him.  He was a very master of words; and when his\nspeech warmed into earnestness, the dullest hearer was spell-bound by\nhis eloquence.  Even to the Achaian mainland and among the islands of\nthe sea, he was famed for his far-reaching shrewdness.  Indeed, his\ncraftiness oftentimes outweighed his sense of honor; for, in that early\nday, to outwit one's fellows even by fraud was thought to be\npraiseworthy.\n\nOne evening in summer, four strange ships, with long black hulls, sailed\ninto the harbor at Ithaca, and were moored in the deep water close to\nthe shore.  They were found to be manned by crews of seafarers from the\nlow-lying shores of Messene; and their captain brought greetings from\nOrsilochus their king, and offered to barter silver and merchandise for\nIthacan wool and long-horned sheep.  Laertes welcomed the strangers\nwarmly; and as the night was near, he advised that early on the morrow\nthey should bring their wares ashore, and allow his people to bargain\nfor what they needed most.  And soon darkness covered all the ways, and\nIthaca was wrapped in slumber.\n\nWhen the gray dawn peeped into his chamber, and awakened him, the king\narose, and looked out towards the harbor.  Not one of the black-hulled\nships could he see.  They had silently cast their moorings, and had\nstolen away through the darkness.  While the king looked and wondered,\nan old shepherd with frightened face and gestures of alarm came running\nin breathless haste to the palace.  In a few words he told what strange\nthings had happened.  By the light of the waning moon, the sea rovers\nfrom Messene had sailed around to a little cove where the pastures slope\ndown to the water's edge.  There they had landed, and without much ado\nhad driven a whole flock of sheep aboard their ships,--three hundred\nlong-wooled ewes and bleating lambs, the choicest of the fields.  And\nthey had carried away not only these, but the six sleepy shepherds whose\nduty it had been to guard them.\n\nAn alarm was quickly sounded, and the news was passed from mouth to\nmouth until it was known to all. The bravest men of Ithaca hastened to\nthe shore, where stood Odysseus and his father, ready to direct them.\nTheir fleetest vessels, lying high upon the beach, were cleared ready to\nbe launched.  Five ships with vermilion prows were pushed into the\nwaves; and each was manned by a score of lusty rowers, and headed\ntowards the open sea.  The long oars dipped into the water, as if all\nwere moved by a single hand; and the vessels sped out upon their errand,\nlike dogs of the chase intent upon a fleeing victim.\n\nThe sky was clear.  The waves danced merrily in the sunlight.  The wind\nblew gently from the shore. The crews of the Ithacan ships bent to the\noars like practised seamen; but when they rounded the headlands at the\nfoot of the bay, and came out upon the open sea, they saw no trace of\nthe pirate fleet, nor even a single sail upon the laughing face of the\ndeep. Whether the men of Messene had pushed straight homeward with their\nplunder, or whether they had put into some other cove or inlet farther\ndown the coast, no one could guess.  All that their pursuers could do\nwas to sail close along the shore, southward towards Cephallenia,\npeering behind every jutting headland, and into every sheltered nook, in\nhopes of coming upon them.\n\nFive days afterward, the red-prowed ships returned to Ithaca.  Nothing\nhad been seen of the sea robbers: nothing had been heard of the stolen\nflocks.\n\nWhat was to be done?  The robbers were known to be men of Messene, the\nsubjects of Orsilochus.  It was no secret, that much of the wealth of\nMessene had been gotten by the plunder and pillage of foreign coasts;\nbut were the pirates of that country to be allowed thus to rob their\nnear neighbors and kinsfolk? Laertes called together a council of the\nchiefs and elders, and asked them what it was best to do.\n\n\"We are a peaceful, home-loving people,\" said some of the older men,\n\"and it would neither be wise nor pleasant to entangle ourselves in a\nwar with a strong king like Orsilochus.  The loss of three hundred sheep\nis not much where there are so many, and it is not likely that the sea\nrobbers will ever trouble us again. Let us go quietly back to our fields\nand homes, and leave well enough alone.\"\n\nBut the young men would not listen to a plan so tame and spiritless.\nThey were eager, if they could not recover what was their own, to take\nat least what was of equal value from the Messenians.  It would be easy,\nthey said, for a few stanch ships with well-chosen crews to cross the\nsea-ways, and land by night upon the rich coast of Messene; there they\ncould fill the roomy holds of their vessels with fruit and grain; and\nbefore any one could hinder, they would sail safely back to Ithaca laden\nwith wealth far greater than three hundred sheep.\n\nThen Odysseus, though a mere youth among bearded men, stood up before\nthem, and said,--\n\n\"My good friends, I like neither the one plan nor the other.  It is but\nthe part of a slave to suffer wrong without striking back.  It is but\nthe part of a coward to strike in the dark, as if fearing the enemy's\nface. Why not send boldly to Messene, and demand either the stolen\nsheep, or a fair price for them?  I myself will undertake the business,\nand I promise you that I will bring back to Ithaca gifts and goods worth\ntwice as much as the flock that has been taken.\"\n\nThe elders listened with favor to the young man's words; and, after\nfurther talk, it was settled that he should go forthwith across the sea\nto claim the debt which was due from the people of Messene.\n\nThe goodliest ship of all the Ithacan galleys was made ready for\nOdysseus.  The needed stores of food and drink were brought on board,\nand placed in the vessel's hold.  The young hero, with his friend and\ntutor Phemius, climbed over the vessel's side, and sat down in the prow.\nThe long-haired seamen cast loose the moorings; they plied their oars,\nand the swift ship was soon far out upon the waters.  A steady north\nwind filled the sail, and the vessel sped swiftly on her way, cleaving\nthe white foam with her keel.  By and by the sun went down, and night\nwrapped the world in her sober mantle; but the ship still held its\ncourse, being guided by the moon's pale light, and the steadfast star of\nthe north.\n\nThe next day they sailed within sight of the low-lying coast of Elis,\nwhich stretched northward and southward farther than their eyes could\nreach.  Yet they turned not to the shore, but sailed straight on; for\nOdysseus, advised by Pallas Athene, wished first to visit Pylos, where\nwise old Nestor ruled with his father, the ancient Neleus.  This Neleus\nwas the uncle of Jason, chief of the Argonauts, and had been driven from\nIolcos by Pelias the usurper.  Long time had he wandered, an exile in\nstrange lands, until Aphareus of Arene gave him leave to build a city on\nthe sandy plain close by the sea.  There he had reared a noble palace;\nand there he still dwelt, having outlived three generations of men.  But\nhe had given up his kingdom, many years before, to his son Nestor,\nhimself a sage old man.\n\nIt was not until late on the third day that the voyagers turned their\nship's prow into the harbor of Pylos. It touched the shore, and Odysseus\nwith his tutor sprang out upon the sands.  They found the people of the\ncity offering sacrifices there to Poseidon, ruler of the deep.  Upon\nnine long seats they were sitting, five hundred or more on each seat;\nand the priest stood up before them, pouring out libations and offering\nsacrifices. Nine coal-black heifers he offered to Poseidon.\n\nKing Nestor sat upon a lofty seat while the elders of the city stood\naround him, or plied their several duties at the feast.  Some of them\nwere busy cutting choice bits of flesh from the slaughtered beeves;\nothers fixed these bits upon spits, and roasted them over heaps of\nglowing coals; and still others handed the smoking food to the waiting\npeople who sat hungry in their places.  When Nestor saw Odysseus and the\nbard, two strangers, standing upon the shore, he arose and went down to\nmeet them.  He gave to each a hand, and leading them to the feast he\nseated them upon soft skins spread on piles of yielding sand.  Then he\nbrought to them, in his own hands, choicest pieces of well-cooked and\nwell-flavored food; and when they had eaten as much as they liked, he\npoured rich wine into a golden goblet, and as he offered it first to the\nnoble bard, he said, \"Right welcome are you, stranger, whoever you may\nbe, to this our midsummer festival.  I give this golden goblet to you\nfirst, you being the older man, that you may pray as beseemeth you to\ngreat Poseidon.  When you have made your prayer, hand then the cup to\nthe young man who is with you, that he too may pour out a libation; for\nall men have need to pray.\"\n\nThen the bard took the goblet, and pouring out a rich libation, lifted\nup his eyes and prayed, \"Great Poseidon, thou who dost hold the earth in\nthy strong arms, hear now the prayer of thy suppliant.  Prolong still\nthe life of our aged host, and add to Nestor with each circling year new\nhonors and greater wealth.  To the folk of Pylos give rich contentment\nand that peace which is the befitting prize of those who are mindful of\nlife's varied duties.  And lastly, grant that this young man may find\nthat which he seeks, and then return rejoicing to his home and friends.\"\n\nWhen he had thus spoken, he gave the goblet to Odysseus, and he in like\nmanner poured out libations, and prayed to great Poseidon.\n\nThen said Nestor as he took again the goblet, \"Strangers, you do wisely\nthus to offer prayers to the gods; for they are far above us in virtue,\nstrength, and honor.  When men have failed to do aright, and have broken\nHeaven's just laws, they may still, by humble vows and supplications,\nturn aside from evil-doing, and soften the wrath of the ever-living\npowers.\"\n\n\"Yes, truly,\" answered Phemius, \"by prayers we do honor both ourselves\nand those to whom we pray. There is an ancient saying, which no doubt\nyou oft have heard, that prayers are the feeble-sighted daughters of\nFather Zeus, and wrinkled and lame they follow in misfortune's track.\nBut misfortune, strong and swift, out-runs them often, and brings\ndistress upon the sons of men; then these blessed prayers, following\nafter, kindly heal the hurts and bind up the aching wounds which have\nbeen made.  And for this reason the man who is wont to pray feels less\nthe strokes of fortune than does he who lives forgetful of the gods.\"[1]\n\n\n[1] See Note 10 at the end of this volume.\n\n\nThe feast being soon ended, Nestor turned again to the strangers, and\nsaid, \"Behold now, the day is well-nigh gone, and all have paid their\nvows to the ever-living gods.  The time has come when we may ask our\nstranger-guests their names and errand.  Who are you who come thus\nunheralded to the sandy shores of Pylos?  Is your visit one of peace,\nand shall we welcome you as friends?  Or do you come as spies, to find\nout what there may be of wealth or of weakness in our city?\"\n\nOdysseus answered: \"O noble Nestor, we will speak the truth, and hide\nnothing from you.  I am Odysseus of Ithaca; my father is King Laertes,\nwho was once your comrade when you sailed on the Argo to golden Colchis.\nTen days ago, there came to our island seafaring men from Messene, whom\nwe welcomed as friends and neighbors.  But under cover of the night they\nlanded on our shores; they seized three hundred of our long-wooled\nsheep, together with the shepherds, and bore them across the sea to some\none of the pirate harbors of Messene.  I now am on my way to King\nOrsilochus, to bid him send back the stolen flock; and if he will not\nhearken to my words, then I shall either gain by guile or take by force\ndouble the value of the sheep.  But I have come first to Pylos, that\nyou, my father's old-time friend, might know my errand, and, if need be,\nlend me your aid.\"\n\n\"You have spoken well,\" answered Nestor; \"and for your father's sake you\nare thrice welcome to the lofty halls of Pylos.  Abide with me for one\nnight, and in the morning I will give you a car and steeds, and a\ntrustworthy guide, to take you by the straightest road to Pherae, where\nthe king of Messene dwells.  Orsilochus must learn from me, that, though\nhis pirate-crews may plunder foreign shores, they must not molest the\nflocks and goods of our home-staying neighbors.\"\n\nHaving thus spoken, he led the way to the fair palace, which his father\nNeleus erstwhile had built.  There they found that aged chieftain\nsitting in the great hall, upon a soft couch spread with purple\ncoverings.  His hair and his long beard were white as the driven snow,\nand his hands trembled from very feebleness, for he was exceeding old.\nHe spoke kindly to Odysseus, and asked many questions about his father\nLaertes, and his home in Ithaca; but he seemed most pleased when the\nyoung man told him of his visit, when a boy, to Iolcos and Mount Pelion.\nFor Iolcos had been the home of Neleus in his youth; and he it was who\nhad helped Pelias drive AEson from the kingdom which was his by right.\nBut Nemesis had followed him, and punished him for the deed.\n\nSoon the shades of night began to darken the fair hall, and the chiefs\nand elders went each one to his own house.  But Nestor led Odysseus and\nthe bard to an upper chamber, where a fair, soft couch was spread upon a\njointed bedstead.  There he left them for the night, and there they soon\nfound rest in soothing slumber.\n\nAs soon as the light of day began to streak the eastern sky, the aged\nNeleus, as was his wont, arose from his couch, and, leaning on the arm\nof Nestor, went feebly out, and took his seat upon a smooth white stone\nbefore the palace gate.  Then every one who had aught of grievance, or\nhad suffered any wrong, came and told his story, and made his plea; and\nthe old hero weighed the matter with an even hand, and gave judgment for\nthe right.\n\n\"What shall be done to aid the son of Laertes, that so his journey into\nMessene shall prosper?\" asked Nestor.  \"Thou knowest that King\nOrsilochus has ever been our friend and ally; yet shall we allow his\nlawless men thus to despoil our neighbors and old-time comrades?\"\n\n\"Send to Pherae, with the young man, a trusty messenger who shall speak\nfor him,\" answered old Neleus. \"Send them both in thy own chariot, and\nask Orsilochus, in the name of a friend, to deal justly with the son of\nLaertes.\"\n\nBy this time Odysseus and the bard had awakened from their slumber.\nThey arose; and when they had bathed, and had been anointed with soft\noil, they clothed themselves in robes of noble texture, and went down\ninto the banquet hall.  There they found King Nestor waiting; and they\nsat down with him at the table, and willing servants waited on them,\nbringing choice food and pouring sweet wine into golden goblets.\n\nWhen the meal was finished, the bard bade his host farewell; and,\npraying that the gods would speed Odysseus on his errand, he went down\nto the red-prowed ship which was waiting by the shore.  And as soon as\nhe stepped on board, the sailors loosed the moorings, and set the sail;\nand a brisk wind bore them swiftly back towards Ithaca.\n\nBut Nestor spoke to the young men about him, \"Bring out my finest\nhorses, and yoke them forthwith to my lightest car.  They shall carry\nOdysseus on his journey across the plain to Pherae; and my son\nAntilochus shall bear him company, and be my messenger to the Messenian\nking.\"\n\nSoon the car was ready.  The young men took their places; and Antilochus\ntouching the restive horses with his whip, they sped across the dusty\nplain.  It was a rough and tiresome journey, along unbroken ways, and\nroads scarcely marked with tracks of wheels or horses' hoofs; and night\nhad begun to fall ere they came to the river Nedon and the high walls of\nPherae where dwelt Orsilochus, the king of Messene.\n\n[Illustration: ALPHEUS AND ARETHUSA.]\n\n\n\n\n                           _*ADVENTURE XI.*_\n\n                         *THE BOW OF EURYTUS.*\n\n\nIn Arcadia there is a little mountain stream called Alpheus.  It flows\nthrough woods and meadows and among the hills for many miles, and then\nit sinks beneath the rocks.  Farther down the valley it rises again, and\ndancing and sparkling, as if in happy chase of something, it hurries\nonward towards the plain; but soon it hides itself a second time in\nunderground caverns, making its way through rocky tunnels where the\nlight of day has never been.  Then at last it gushes once more from its\nprison chambers; and, flowing thence with many windings through the\nfields of Elis, it empties its waters into the sea.\n\nOf this strange river a strange tale is told, and this is what\nAntilochus related to Odysseus as they rode across the plain towards\nPherae:--\n\n\n\"Years ago there was no river Alpheus; the channel through which it\nflows had not then been hollowed out, and rank grass and tall bending\nreeds grew thick where now its waters sparkle brightest.  It was then\nthat a huntsman, bearing the name of Alpheus, ranged through the woods,\nand chased the wild deer among the glades and glens of sweet Arcadia.\nFar away by the lonely sea dwelt Telegona, his fair young wife, and his\nlovely babe Orsilochus; but dearer than home or wife or babe to Alpheus,\nwas the free life of the huntsman among the mountain solitudes.  For he\nloved the woods and the blue sky and the singing birds, and the frail\nflowers upon the hillside; and he longed to live among them always,\nwhere his ears could listen to their music, and his eyes look upon their\nbeauty.\n\n\"'O Artemis, huntress-queen!' he cried, 'I ask but one boon of thee.\nLet me ramble forever among these happy scenes!'\n\n\"And Artemis heard him, and answered his prayer. For, as he spoke, a\nbright vision passed before him.  A sweet-faced maiden went tripping\ndown the valley, culling the choicest flowers, and singing of hope and\njoy and the blessedness of a life pure and true.  It was Arethusa, the\nArcadian nymph, by some supposed to be a daughter of old Nereus, the\nelder of the sea.  Then Alpheus heard no more the songs of the birds, or\nthe music of the breeze; he saw no longer the blue sky above him, or the\nnodding flowers at his feet: he was blind and deaf to all the world,\nsave only the beautiful nymph.  Arethusa was the world to him.  He\nreached out his arms to catch her; but, swifter than a frightened deer,\nshe fled down the valley, through deep ravines and grassy glades and\nrocky caverns underneath the hills, and out into the grassy meadows, and\nacross the plains of Elis, to the sounding sea.  And Alpheus followed,\nforgetful of every thing but the fleeing vision. When, at length, he\nreached the sea, he looked back; and, lo! he was no longer a huntsman,\nbut a river doomed to meander forever among the scenes, for love of\nwhich he had forgotten his wife and his babe and the duties of life.  It\nwas thus that Artemis answered his prayer.\n\n\"And men say that Arethusa the nymph was afterwards changed into a\nfountain; and that to this day, in the far-off island of Ortygia, that\nfountain gushes from the rocks in an unfailing, crystal stream.  But\nOrsilochus, the babe forgotten by his father, grew to manhood, and in\ncourse of time became the king of Pherae and the seafaring people of\nMessene.\"\n\n\nWhen Odysseus and his companion reached Pherae, the sun had set and the\ngates of the palace were closed. But the porter sent a messenger into\nthe hall where King Orsilochus was sitting at the evening meal, who\nsaid, \"O king, the car of Nestor, our worthy neighbor, stands outside\nthe gate; and in the car are two young men, richly clothed like princes,\nand bearing themselves in a most princely manner.\"\n\nForthwith the king arose, and went out to the gate, and welcomed the\nyoung men to his city and his high-built halls.  And he took them by the\nhand, and led them into the feast-chamber where the chiefs of Pherae and\nMessene already sat at meat.  He put the spears which they bore, in a\nspear-stand, where were other goodly weapons leaning against the wall.\nThen he seated them on chairs of cunning workmanship, beneath which were\nlinen rugs of many colors; and he gave to each an oaken footstool for\nhis feet.  Then a maid poured water into a basin of silver, that they\nmight wash their hands; and she drew a polished table near them, on\nwhich another maid placed white loaves of bread, and many dainties\nwell-pleasing to the taste of tired travellers.  And the carver brought\ndivers tempting dishes of roasted meats; and a herald poured red wine\ninto golden bowls, and set them within easy reach.\n\nWhen they had eaten, and had forgotten their hunger and thirst and\nweariness, an old blind bard came into the hall; and as he sat in a high\nseat leaning against a pillar, he took his harp in his hand, and,\ntouching it with his deft fingers, sang sweet songs of the gods and the\nheroes and famous men.  Not until he had finished his music and laid\naside his harp, did Orsilochus venture to speak of any thing that might\ndisturb the pleasure of his guests.  Then with well-chosen words, he\nasked them their names and their errand.\n\n\"Our fathers,\" answered Odysseus, \"are Nestor and Laertes, well known\namong the heroes who sailed with Jason to the golden strand of Colchis;\nand the errand upon which we come is one of right and justice.\"\n\nAnd then he told the king how the crews of the Messenian ships had\nlanded in Ithaca and carried away his father's choicest flock.\nOrsilochus listened kindly; and when Odysseus had ended, he said, \"Think\nno more of this troublesome matter, for I will see that it is righted at\nonce.  The men who dared thus to wrong your father shall restore\nfourfold the value of the stolen flocks, and shall humbly beg the pardon\nof Laertes, as well as of myself.  I have spoken, and it shall be done;\nbut you must tarry a while with me in Pherae, and be my honored guest.\"\n\nThus Odysseus brought to a happy end the quest upon which he had come to\nMessene and the high-walled town of Pherae.  And he tarried many days in\nthe pleasant halls of the king, and was held in higher honor than all\nthe other guests.  But Antilochus, on the second morning, mounted again\nhis father's chariot, and journeyed onward into Laconia: why he went\nthither, and did not return to Pylos, Odysseus was soon to learn.\n\nOne evening there came to Pherae a lordly stranger, bringing with him a\ntrain of well-armed men and bearing a handsome present for Orsilochus.\nHe was very tall and handsome; he stood erect as a mountain pine, and\nhis eyes flashed keen and sharp as those of an eagle; but his long white\nhair and frosted beard betokened a man of many years, and his furrowed\nbrow showed plainly that he had not lived free from care.\n\n\"I am Iphitus of OEchalia,\" he said, \"and I am journeying to Lacedaemon\nwhere great Tyndareus rules.\"\n\nWhen Odysseus heard the name of Iphitus, he remembered it as that of a\ndear friend of whom his father had often spoken; and he asked,--\n\n\"Are you that Iphitus who sailed with Jason to golden Colchis?  And do\nyou remember among your comrades, one Laertes of Ithaca?\"\n\n\"There is but one Iphitus,\" was the answer, \"and I am he.  Never can I\nforget the noble-hearted Laertes of Ithaca; for, on board the Argo, he\nwas my messmate, my bedfellow, my friend, my sworn brother. There is no\nman whom I love more dearly.  Would that I could see him, or even know\nthat he still lives!\"\n\nWhen he learned that Odysseus was the son of his old-time friend, he was\noverjoyed; and he took him by the hand, and wept for very gladness.\nThen he asked the young man a thousand questions about his father and\nhis mother, and his father's little kingdom of Ithaca.  And Odysseus\nanswered him truly; for his heart was filled with love for the noble old\nhero, and he felt justly proud of his friendship.  And after this, so\nlong as they staid at Pherae, the young man and the old were constantly\ntogether.\n\nOne day, as they were walking alone outside of the city walls, Iphitus\nsaid, \"Do you see this noble bow which I carry, and which I always keep\nwithin easy reach?\"\n\n\"It would be hard not to see it,\" answered Odysseus, smiling; \"for where\nyou are, there also is the bow.  I have often wondered why you guard it\nwith so great care.\"\n\n\"It is the bow of my father Eurytus,\" answered the hero, \"and, next to\nApollo's silver weapon, it is the most wonderful ever made.  My father\ndwelt in OEchalia, and was skilled in archery above all other men; and\nthe sons of the heroes came to him to learn how to shoot the silent\narrow with most deadly aim.  Even Heracles, the mightiest of\nearth-dwellers, was taught by him; but Heracles requited him unkindly.\n\n\"In my father's halls, close by the shore of the eastern sea, there were\nmany bright treasures and precious gems and rarest works of art.  But\nmore beautiful than any of these, and more precious to my father's heart\nthan any glittering jewel, was our only sister, the lovely Iole.  And\nwhen Heracles went out from the land of his birth to toil and do the\nbidding of false Eurystheus, he tarried for a day in my father's halls.\nThere he saw Iole, the blue-eyed maiden, and his great strong heart was\ntaken captive by her gentle will; but the stern words of Eurystheus fell\nupon his ears, and bade him go forth at once to the labors which had\nbeen allotted him.  He went; for he had vowed, long time before, always\nto obey the calls of duty.  And Iole grieved for him in secret; yet\nevery day she grew wiser and more beautiful, and every day the tendrils\nof her love were twined more and more closely about my father's heart.\n\n\"Heracles went out to do the thankless tasks which his master Eurystheus\nhad bidden him do.  In the swamps of Lerna, he slew the nine-headed\nHydra, and dipped his arrows in its poisonous blood.  In the forests of\nArcadia, he caught the brazen-footed stag sacred to Artemis.  In the\nsnowy glens of Erymanthus, he hunted the fierce wild boar which had long\nbeen the terror of men; and, having caught him in a net, he carried him\nto Mycenae.  In Elis he cleansed the stables of Augeas, turning the\nwaters of the river Alpheus into the stalls of his oxen.  In the marshes\nof Stymphalus, he put to flight the loathsome Harpies, and rested not\nfrom following them until they were outside the borders of Hellas.  In\nthe sunset land of the Hesperides, he plucked the golden apples which\nhung ripe in the gardens of Here; and he slew the fiery dragon that kept\nwatch and ward around them.  And, lastly, he went down into the dark\nkingdom of Hades, and brought thence the mighty hound Cerberus, carrying\nhim in his strong arms into the very presence of Eurystheus.  All these\ndeeds, and many more, did Heracles, because they were tasks set for him\nby his master; but other things, even mightier than they, did he do\nbecause of his love for suffering men.[1]  At length, when the days of\nhis servitude to Eurystheus were ended, he came again to Hellas, and\ndwelt a long time in Calydon with his old-time friend Oineus.\"\n\n\n[1] See Note 11 at the end of this volume.\n\n\nWhen Iphitus had thus spoken, he was silent for a time; and Odysseus,\nseeing that he was busy with his own thoughts, asked him no questions.\nThen, as if talking in a dream, he said,--\n\n\"Do you see this bow,--the bow of my father Eurytus? Much grief has it\nbrought upon our house; and yet it was not the bow, but my father's\noverweening pride, that wrought the mischief, and caused me to go\nsorrowing through life.  Shall I finish my story by telling you how it\nall ended?\"\n\n\"Tell me all,\" answered Odysseus.\n\n\"My father Eurytus, as I have said, was the king of archers; for no man\ncould draw an arrow with so unerring aim as he, and no man could send it\nstraight to the mark with a more deadly force.  Every thought of his\nwaking hours was upon his bow, and he aspired to excel even the archery\nof Artemis and Apollo.  At length he sent a challenge into every city of\nHellas: '_Whosoever will excel Eurytus in shooting with the bow and\narrows, let him come to OEchalia, and try his skill. The prize to be\ngiven to him who succeeds is Iole, the fair daughter of Eurytus._'\n\n\"Then there came to the contest, great numbers of young men, the pride\nof Hellas.  But when they saw this wonderful bow of Eurytus, and tried\nits strength, their hearts sank within them; and when they aimed their\nshafts at the target, they shot far wide of the mark, and my father sent\nthem home ashamed and without the prize.\n\n\"'My dearest Iole,' he would often say, 'I am not afraid of losing you,\nfor there lives no man who knows the bow as well as I.'\n\n\"But by and by great Heracles heard of my father's boasts, and of the\nprize which he had offered.\n\n\"'I will go down to OEchalia,' said he, 'and I will win the fair Iole\nfor my bride.'\n\n\"And when he came, my father remembered how he had taught him archery in\nhis youth; and he felt that in his old pupil he had at last found a\npeer.  Yet he would not cease his boasting.  'If the silver-bowed Apollo\nshould come to try his skill, I would not fear to contend even with\nhim.'\n\n\"Then the target was set up, so far away that it seemed as if one might\nas well shoot at the sun.\n\n\"'Now, my good bow,' said my father, 'thou hast never failed me: do thou\nserve me better to-day than ever before!'\n\n\"He drew the strong cord back, bending the bow to its utmost tension;\nand then the swift arrow leaped from its place, and sped like a beam of\nlight straight towards the mark.  But, before it reached its goal, the\nstrength which my father's arm had imparted to it began to fail; it\nwavered in the air, its point turned downward, and it struck the ground\nat the foot of the target.\n\n\"Then Heracles took up his bow, and carelessly aimed a shaft at the\ndistant mark.  Like the lightning which Zeus hurls from the high clouds\nstraight down upon the head of some lordly oak, so flashed the unfailing\narrow through the intervening space, piercing the very centre of the\ntarget.\n\n\"'Lo, now, Eurytus, my old-time friend,' said Heracles, 'thou seest that\nI have won the victory over thee. Where now is the prize, even the\nlovely Iole, that was promised to him who could shoot better than thou?'\n\n\"But my father's heart sank within him, and shame and grief took mighty\nhold of him.  And he sent Iole away in a swift-sailing ship, to the\nfarther shores of the sea, and would not give her to Heracles as he had\npromised.  Then the great hero turned him about in anger, and went back\nto his home in Calydon, threatening vengeance upon the house of Eurytus.\nI besought my father that he would remember his word, and would call\nIole home again, and would send her to Heracles to be his bride.  But he\nwould not hearken, for the great sorrow which weighed upon him.  He\nplaced his matchless bow in my hands, and bade me keep it until I should\nfind a young hero worthy to bear it.\n\n\"'It has served me well,' he said, 'but I shall never need it more.'\nThen he bowed his head upon his hands, and when I looked again the life\nhad gone from him.  Some men say that Apollo, to punish him for his\nboasting, slew him with one of his silent arrows; others say that\nHeracles smote him because he refused to give to the victor the promised\nprize, even fair Iole, the idol of his heart.  But I know that it was\ngrief and shame, and neither Apollo nor Heracles, that brought death\nupon him.\n\n\"As to Heracles, he dwelt a long time in Calydon, where he wooed and won\nthe princess Deianeira, the daughter of old Oineus; but the memory of\nIole, as she had been to him in the bright days of his youth, was never\nblotted from his mind.  And the people of Calydon loved him, because,\nwith all his greatness and his strength, he was the friend and helper of\nthe weak and needy.  But one day, at a feast, he killed by accident a\nlittle boy in the palace of Oineus, named Eunomos; and his heart was\nfilled with grief, and he took his wife Deianeira, and, leaving Calydon,\nhe journeyed aimlessly about until he came to Trachis in Thessaly.\nThere he built him a home, but his restless spirit would give him no\npeace; and so, leaving Deianeira in Trachis, he came back towards\nArgolis by way of the sea.  Three moons ago, I met him in Tiryns. He\ngreeted me as a dear old friend, and kindly offered to help me in the\nundertaking which I had then on foot; for robbers had driven from my\npastures twelve brood mares, the finest in all Hellas, and I was\nsearching for them.\n\n\"'Go you with your men into Messene,' said he, 'for doubtless you will\nfind that which you seek among the lawless men who own Orsilochus as\nking.  If you find them not, come again to Tiryns, and I will aid you in\nfurther search, and will have them restored to you, even though Hermes,\nor great Autolycus, be the thief.'\n\n\"So I left him, and came hither to Messene, and to the high-walled\ntowers of Pherae; and thus you know my errand which I have kept hidden\nfrom Orsilochus. I have found no traces of the stolen mares; and so\nto-morrow I shall return to Argolis and Tiryns where the great hero\nwaits for me.\"\n\nMuch more would godlike Iphitus have spoken; but now the sun had set,\nand the two friends hastened back to the palace of Orsilochus.\n\n\"Never have I met a man whose friendship I prized more highly than\nthine,\" said Odysseus, as they crossed the courtyard, and each was about\nto retire to his chamber.  \"I pray that thou wilt take this sharp sword,\nwhich was my father's, and this mighty spear, as tokens of the\nbeginnings of a loving friendship.\"  And the young man put the noble\nweapons into the old hero's hands.\n\n\"And do thou take in return an equal present,\" said Iphitus.  \"Here is\nthe matchless bow of Eurytus my father; it shall be thine, and shall be\nto thee a worthy token of the love which I bear towards thee.\"\n\nOdysseus took the bow.  It was a bow of marvellous beauty, and its\nstrength was so great that no man, save its proud new owner, could\nstring it.  It was indeed a matchless gift, and a treasure to be prized.\n\n\n\n\n                           _*ADVENTURE XII.*_\n\n                *THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMAN IN THE WORLD.*\n\n\nVery early on the following day, Iphitus bade Orsilochus farewell, and\nstarted on his journey back towards Tiryns; and Odysseus, to the\nsurprise of all, went with him, riding in the same chariot.\n\n\"I know that you want to go into Laconia,\" Iphitus had said.  \"Why not\ngo now?  For I and my brave men will convoy you safely as far as\nLacedaemon; and when there, I will commend you to my old comrades,\nCastor and Polydeuces, who dwell in the palace of their father, King\nTyndareus.\"\n\nAnd Odysseus had gladly consented; for, although his host had pressed\nhim hard to stay longer, he was very anxious for many reasons to visit\nLacedaemon.\n\nFor two days the company travelled slowly eastward. They crossed the\nmountain land which lies between Messene and Laconia, and came to the\nplain, rich with wheat-fields, which lay beyond.  And now the way was\neasier, and the road led straight towards Lacedaemon.\n\nAt noon on the second day, they rested upon the banks of a little\nstream; and, as the sun was hot, they sat a long time in the pleasant\nshade of some trees which grew not far from the roadside.  Some distance\ndown the valley they caught glimpses of the high towers of the city; and\nnow and then they heard the sound of busy workers within the walls, or\nthe shouts of the toilers in the neighboring fields.  A ride of only a\nfew minutes would bring them to the gates of Lacedaemon. While they were\nthus waiting and resting, an old minstrel, who had come out of the city,\njoined them by the roadside, and began to entertain them.  At first he\nplayed sweetly upon his lyre, and sang songs, new and old, which he\nthought would be pleasing to his listeners.  Then he told them stories\nof the times, now long past, when yet men lived in peaceful innocence,\nunbeset with eating cares.\n\n\"And now,\" he said, \"since you are about to enter Lacedaemon, and will\nspend the night within the kingly halls of great Tyndareus, you must\nneeds hear of the beauty and the courage and the wealth for which this\ncity is far famed among all the states of Hellas.  The riches of which\nwe boast cannot be measured like gold and precious stones; our wealth\nlies in the courage and true-heartedness of our men, and in the beauty\nand devotedness of our women.\"\n\nAnd then he told them of the four wonderful children whom King Tyndareus\nand his wife Leda had reared in the pleasant halls of\nLacedaemon,--Castor and Polydeuces, the devoted brothers; and the\nsisters, proud Clytemnestra, and Helen the beautiful.  He told how\nCastor and Polydeuces were famed among all the heroes of Greece; how\nthey had sailed with Jason on the Argo; how they had hunted the wild\nboar in the woods of Calydon; and how they had fought under the banner\nof Peleus when he stormed the town of Iolcos, and drove the false\nAcastus from his kingdom.  He told how Helen, while yet a mere child,\nhad been stolen from her home and her parents, and carried by Theseus of\nAthens to far-distant Attica; and how her brothers Castor and Polydeuces\nhad rescued her, and brought her back to her loving friends in\nLacedaemon.  He told how the two brothers excelled in all the arts of\nwar, and in feats of courage and skill; how Castor was renowned at home\nand abroad as a tamer of horses, and how Polydeuces was without a peer\nas a boxer and as a skilful wielder of the sword.  And he told how the\nbeauty of Helen had brought hosts of suitors from every quarter of the\nworld; and how her father, old Tyndareus, was all the time beset with\ncourtiers, princes, and heroes, the noblest of the earth,--all\nbeseeching him for the hand of the matchless fair one.\n\nNo one knows how long the old man would have kept on talking, had not\nIphitus bade him cease.  \"We have heard already, a thousand times, the\ntales that you tell us,\" he said.  \"Waste no more time with vain words\nwhich are on the tongue of every news-monger in Argolis; but make haste\nback to the city, and say to Castor and Polydeuces that Iphitus, who\nerstwhile was their comrade on the Argo, waits outside the gates of\nLacedaemon.\"\n\nThe minstrel bowed, and said, \"It is not for me to act the part of a\nherald for a stranger.  But do you send one of your young men into the\ncity, and I will gladly go with him into the broad palace of the king,\nwhere he may announce your coming.\"\n\nThen Iphitus called to one of the young men in his company, and bade him\ngo before them to the palace, to herald their coming; and the old\nminstrel went with him.\n\nNow when the sun was beginning to sink behind the heights of lofty\nTaygetes, the company arose from their resting-place by the roadside,\nand began to move slowly towards the city.  At the same time, two\nhorsemen came out through the gate, and rode rapidly up the valley to\nmeet them.  Iphitus waved his long-plumed helmet in the air, and shouted\naloud.  \"There they come,\" he cried,--\"the twin heroes! as noble and as\nhandsome, and seemingly as young, as when we sailed together on the\nArgo.\"\n\nIt seemed but a moment until the horsemen approached and drew rein\nbefore them.  They were tall and comely youths, exceedingly fair, and so\nalike that no man could tell which one was Castor or which Polydeuces.\nTheir armor was of gold, and glowed in the light of the setting sun like\nwatch-fires on the mountain-tops.  Their steeds were white as snow, with\nlong manes that glimmered and shone like the silvery beams of the moon\non a still summer's evening.\n\n\"All hail, our old-time comrade!\" they cried.  \"Welcome to the halls of\nLacedaemon!  We bid you welcome in the name of our aged father, King\nTyndareus.\"\n\nThen they turned, and led the way to the lofty palace gates.\n\nAs Odysseus and his aged friend dismounted from their car, a score of\nready squires came out to serve them.  Some loosed the horses from the\nyoke, and led them to the stables, and fed them plentifully with oats\nand white-barley grains; others tilted the car against the wall of the\nouter court, so that no careless passer-by would run against or injure\nit; and still others carried the arms of the heroes into the spacious\nhall, and leaned them with care against the grooved columns.\n\nThen Castor and Polydeuces, the glorious twins, led the heroes into the\nbroad hall of King Tyndareus. Odysseus gazed about him with wondering\neyes, for he had never seen so great magnificence.  Walls of polished\nmarble ran this way and that from the brazen threshold; the doors were\nof carved oak inlaid with gold, and the door-posts were of shining\nsilver. Within were seats and sumptuous couches ranged against the wall,\nfrom the entrance even to the inner chambers; and upon them were spread\nlight coverings, woven and embroidered by the deft hands of women. And\nso great was the sheen of brass, of gold and silver, and of precious\ngems, within this hall, that the light gleamed from floor to ceiling,\nlike the beams of the sun or the round full moon.[1]\n\n\n[1] See Note 12 at the end of this volume.\n\n\nThe aged king was pleased to see the heroes; for Iphitus and he had been\nlifelong friends, firm and true, through every turn of fortune.  And\nwhen he learned the name and parentage of young Odysseus, he took him by\nthe hand, and bade him welcome for the sake of his father, good Laertes.\n\nThe first words of greeting having been spoken, Odysseus, still\nwondering, went down into the polished baths.  There, when he had\nbathed, he clothed himself in princely garments; and he threw a soft,\nrich cloak about his shoulders, and made himself ready to stand in the\npresence of beauty, nobility, and courage.  Then Polydeuces led him back\ninto the great hall.\n\nBut a change had taken place while he was gone. The king was no longer\nalone.  There stood around him, or sat upon couches, all the noblest\nyoung heroes of Hellas.  The king's son-in-law, tall Agamemnon of\nMycenae, stood behind the throne; and near him was his handsome brother\nMenelaus.  Among all the princes then at Lacedaemon, these two sons of\nAtreus were accounted worthiest; for not only did they excel in strength\nand wisdom, but they were heirs to the kingdom of Argolis, and the\nlordship over men.  Next to them stood Ajax the son of Telamon; he was\nnephew to old King Peleus, who had wedded the sea-nymph in the\ncave-halls of Mount Pelion; and among the younger heroes there was none\nwho equalled him in bravery.\n\nReclining on a couch at the king's left hand was another prince of the\nsame name,--Ajax, the son of Oileus.  He had come from distant Locris,\nwhere he was noted as the swiftest runner and the most skilful spearsman\nin all Hellas.  He was neither so tall nor so handsome as the son of\nTelamon; but the very glance of his eye and the curl of his lip, made\nmen admire and love him.\n\nBelow him stood Diomede of Tiryns, who, though still a mere youth, was a\nvery lion in war.  His father, brave Tydeus, had met his death while\nfighting with the Thebans; but he had long ago avenged him.\n\nIdomeneus, a prince of Crete, known far and wide for his skill in\nwielding the spear, was next, a man already past the prime of life.  And\nbeyond him in order were other princes: Philoctetes of Meliboea, famous\nfor his archery; Machaon, son of Asclepius, from OEchalia, the home of\nIphitus; Antilochus of Pylos, late the companion of Odysseus; Nireus of\nSyma, famed only for his comeliness; and Menestheus of Athens, who, in\nthe management of men and horses and the ordering of battle, had not a\npeer on earth.\n\nAll these were in the hall of King Tyndareus; and they received Odysseus\nwith words of seeming kindness, although a shade of jealousy was plainly\nseen upon their faces.  While they were speaking, a minstrel entered,\nand began to play deftly upon his lyre; and, as he played and sung, two\ndancers sprang upon the floor, and whirled in giddy mazes about the\nhall. Then from their high-roofed chamber, where the air was full of\nsweet perfumes, came three women to listen to the music.  Helen, like in\nform to Artemis the huntress-queen, led the rest; and when Odysseus saw\nher, he remembered no more the golden splendor which had dazzled his\neyes when first he stood upon the threshold of the palace, for every\nthing else paled in the light of Helen's unspeakable beauty.  Next to\nher came Clytemnestra, who, a few years before, had been wedded to\nAgamemnon of Mycenae.  She was fair, but not beautiful; and the glance\nwhich fell from her eye sent a thrill of pain to the heart of the young\nhero. The two sisters were followed by their cousin, sweet Penelope,\nwho, blushing like the morning, kept her eyes modestly upon the ground,\nand looked not once towards the company of princely strangers.  And, as\nshe stood leaning against a lofty column, Odysseus wondered within\nhimself whether he admired more the glorious beauty of Helen, or the\nretiring sweetness of Penelope.\n\n\n\n\n                          _*ADVENTURE XIII.*_\n\n                          *A RACE FOR A WIFE.*\n\n\nDays and weeks passed by, and still Odysseus tarried as a guest at the\ncourt of King Tyndareus.  His friend Iphitus had gone on to Tiryns to\nmeet the hero Heracles, and had left with him his blessing and the bow\nof Eurytus.  But the young princes who had come to Lacedaemon to woo the\nbeautiful Helen remained in the palace, and each had vowed in the secret\nof his heart that he would not depart until he had won the matchless\nlady for his bride.  Each had offered to the king gifts of countless\nvalue,--gold and jewels, fine horses, and well-wrought armor; and each\nhad prayed him that he would himself set the bride-price for his\ndaughter, and bestow her on whom he would, even on the man who pleased\nhim best.  But the king, for reasons of his own, would give them no\nanswer.\n\nAll this time, Odysseus held himself aloof from the crowd of wooers, and\nkept his own counsel; and, though all believed that he too was smitten\nwith love for the peerless Helen, yet in his heart the blue-eyed\nPenelope reigned queen.  One day as he sat alone with Tyndareus in his\nchamber, he saw that the king was sorely troubled; and he began in his\nown way to find out the cause of his distress.\n\n[Illustration: ODYSSEUS ADVISES KING TYNDAREUS CONCERNING HELEN'S\nSUITORS.]\n\n\"Surely, O king!\" he said, \"you are the happiest of men.  For here you\nhave, in Lacedaemon, every thing that can delight the eye, or please the\nheart. Wherever you may turn, there you see wealth and beauty; and it is\nall yours, to do with as you like. Your sons are the bravest in the\nworld; your daughters are the fairest; your palace is the most\nbeautiful; your kingdom is the strongest.  There is certainly nothing to\nbe wished for that is not already yours.\"\n\n\"And yet,\" answered Tyndareus, with a sigh, \"I am the most miserable of\nmortals.  I would rather be a witless swineherd in the oak forests,\nliving in a hut, and feeding upon roots and wild fruits, than dwell in\nthis palace, beset with cares like those which daily weigh me down.\"\n\n\"I cannot understand you,\" said Odysseus.  \"You are at peace with all\nthe world; your children are all with you; you have no lack of comfort.\nThere is nothing more for you to desire.  How, indeed, can care come in\nthrough these golden doors, and sit upon your brow, and weigh you down\nwith heaviness?\"\n\n\"I will tell you,\" answered the king, \"for I know that I can trust your\ngood judgment.  Here in my palace are all the noblest princes of Hellas\nsuing for the hand of Helen, whom the gods have cursed with more than\nmortal beauty.  Each has offered me a price, and each expects to win\nher.  I dare not withhold her long; for then all will become angered,\nand my kingdom as well as my daughter will be the prey of him who is the\nstrongest.  I dare not give her to one of them, for then the other nine\nand twenty will make cause against me and bring ruin to Lacedaemon. On\nthis side grin the heads of Scylla, all black with death; on that side\ndread Charybdis roars; and there is no middle way.  Why, oh, why did not\nthe immortals bless my daughter by giving her a homely face?\"\n\nThen Odysseus drew nearer to the king, and spoke in lower tones.  \"I\npray you, do not despair,\" he said. \"There is a safe way out of all this\ntrouble.  If you will only trust me, I will lead the whole matter to a\nhappy issue.\"\n\n\"How, how?\" eagerly asked the king.\n\n\"I will tell you,\" said Odysseus.  \"But you must first listen to a plea\nthat I have to make.  To you alone it is known that I am not a suitor\nfor the hand of Helen, but that my hopes are all for coy Penelope. Speak\nto her father, your brother Icarius, and help me win her for my own, and\nI will settle this matter between you and the princely lovers of fair\nHelen in a manner pleasing to every one.\"\n\n\"It shall be as you wish!\" cried the king, taking heart.  \"I will trust\nthe management of this business to you, and may the wise Pallas Athene\nprosper you!\"\n\nThe next morning shrewd Odysseus arose, and clothed himself in princely\nfashion; and, after the morning meal had been eaten, he bade the heralds\ncall the suitors into the council chamber.  And the heralds called the\ngathering; and the young heroes quickly came, one after another, until\nnine and twenty sat within the chamber where the elders of Lacedaemon\nwere wont to meet.  Then Odysseus stood on the raised platform, close to\nthe door; and Pallas Athene, unseen by the dull eyes of mortals, stood\nbeside him, and whispered words of wisdom in his ear.\n\n\"Noble men of Hellas,\" said Odysseus, \"I pray that you will hearken to\nthe words which I shall speak, and that you will duly weigh them in your\nminds.  We have all come to Lacedaemon with one wish and one\nintent,--and that is, to win the most beautiful woman in the world.  We\nhave offered, each one for himself, a bride-price worthy of the bride;\nyet the king, for reasons which you ought to understand, is slow in\nbestowing her upon any of us.  And so weeks and even months have passed,\nand we are still here, devouring the substance of our kind host, and yet\nas far as ever from the prize which we desire.  Now, it behooves us to\nbring this matter to an end; for otherwise we all shall suffer loss by\nbeing too long absent from our homes.\"\n\nThe princely suitors listened kindly to his words and all nodded their\nassent.  Then he went on:--\n\n\"Upon how many of you, now, has the peerless Helen smiled as if in\nadmiration?\"\n\nEvery man among them raised his hand in answer.\n\n\"Who, among you all, believes that fair Helen would prefer him, above\nevery other, for a husband?\"\n\nEvery man arose, and, glancing proudly around him, answered \"I!\"\n\n\"I have, then, a plan to offer,\" said Odysseus. \"Let us leave the choice\nto Helen.  And, in order that each may the better show whether there be\naught of nobility in him, let us go forth straightway, and make trial of\nall the games in which any one of us excels. And when the games are\nended, let glorious Helen come and choose him whom she will wed.\"\n\nAt this all the suitors shouted assent; for each felt sure that he would\nbe the chosen one.\n\n\"But hearken to one word more!\" cried Odysseus. \"The most beautiful\nwoman in the world is a prize of priceless value; and he who wins that\nprize will hardly keep it through the might of his unaided arm.  Let us\nbind ourselves by an oath that he whom Helen chooses shall be her wedded\nhusband, and that the rest will depart at once from Lacedaemon; and that\nif any man, from near or far, shall carry peerless Helen from her\nhusband or her husband's home, then we will join our forces, and never\nfalter in the fight until we have restored her to him.\"\n\n\"And further still,\" added Ajax Telamon, \"let us swear that should any\none of us forget the agreement made this day, then the remaining nine\nand twenty will cause swift punishment, and terrible, to fall upon him.\"\n\nMuch more did shrewd Odysseus and the assembled princes say; and in the\nend they made a solemn sacrifice to Father Zeus, and lifting up their\nhands they swore that they would hold to all that had been spoken. Then,\nat an hour which had been set, they went out to make trial of their\nskill in all kinds of manly games, so that each might show wherein he\nexcelled all other men, and thus stand higher in the regards of\nmatchless Helen.  And the heralds made announcement, and a great company\nfollowed them to the broad market-place between the palace and the city\nwalls.  King Tyndareus, happy that his perplexities were soon to end,\nsat upon a high throne overlooking the place; and at his side stood the\nglorious twins, Castor and Polydeuces, clad in their snow-white armor.\nBut Helen, dowered with beauty by the gods, stood with her maidens at\nthe window of her high-built chamber, and watched the contest from afar.\n\nThen all the suitors, arrayed in princely garments, as became the\nmightiest men of Hellas, stood up in the lists, each for himself to take\nhis part in the games. And each fondly believed that he, among them all,\nwas the favored suitor of fair Helen.  But shrewd Odysseus kept his own\ncounsels, and wisely planned to reach the ends which he so much desired.\n\nThen the games began.  And they made trial, first, in throwing the heavy\nspear; and gray-bearded Idomeneus led all the rest.  Then in shooting\nwith the bow; and Odysseus was far the best, for no one else could\nstring or handle the matchless bow of Eurytus.  Then in throwing heavy\nweights; and Ajax, son of Telamon, sent a huge stone hurtling from his\nstrong arms far beyond all other marks.  Then in wrestling; and there\nwas not one that could withstand the stout-limbed son of Oileus.  Then\nin boxing; and Philoctetes, the armor-bearer of Heracles, carried off\nthe palm.  Then in fencing with the broad-sword; and Diomede held the\nchampionship, and found no peer.  Then in leaping; and Thoas of AEtolia,\none of the later comers, excelled all others.  Then in the foot-race;\nand here again the lesser Ajax left all the rest behind.\n\nAnd now the car of Helios was sloping towards the western sea, and King\nTyndareus by a signal ordered that the games should cease.\n\n\"Come, my friends,\" said he, \"the day is spent, and nothing can be\ngained by further trials of strength and skill.  Let us go forthwith to\nmy banquet hall, where the tables groan already with the weight of the\ngood cheer which has been provided for you.  And when you have rested\nyourselves, and put away from you the thought of hunger, fair Helen will\ndescend from her high chamber, and choose from among you him who shall\nbe her husband.\"\n\nAnd all obeyed, and went straightway to the great banquet hall of the\nking.  Now the court, and the hall, and even the passage-ways of the\npalace, were thronged with people old and young, noble and base-born;\nfor all had heard of what was to follow.  And the steward of the king\nhad slain a score of long-wooled sheep, and many swine, and two\nslow-footed oxen; and these he had flayed and dressed for the goodly\nbanquet.  Then all sat down at the tables, and stretching forth their\nhands, they partook of the pleasant food so bounteously spread before\nthem.  And though some of the princely suitors had been beaten in the\ngames, yet all were merry and hopeful, and many a pleasant jest was\nbandied back and forth among them.\n\n\"The son of Oileus should remember,\" said Nireus, \"that the race is not\nalways to the swift.\"\n\n\"And Nireus should remember,\" said Thoas, \"that beauty does not consort\nwith comeliness.  Aphrodite did not choose Apollo for her husband, but\nrather the limping smith, Hephaestus.\"\n\nThen some one asked Nireus what was the price of hair-oils in Syma; and\nthis led to much merriment and many jokes about his smooth curls, his\nwell-shaven face, and his tight-fitting doublet.\n\n\"If his father were living,\" said one, \"he would be setting a\nbride-price upon him.\"\n\nIn the midst of the merriment, a herald passed through the hall, crying\nout, \"Remember your oaths, O princes of the Hellenes!  Remember your\npromises to the immortal gods!\"\n\nA silence fell upon that multitude, like the stillness which takes hold\nupon all nature when waiting for the thunder-cloud to vent its fury upon\nthe plains.  And the minstrel, who sat upon a raised seat at the farther\nside of the hall, touched his harp with his deft fingers, and brought\nforth sounds so sweet and low and musical that the ears of all the\nhearers were entranced. Then the door of the inner chamber opened, and\nthe glorious Helen, leaning on the arm of old Tyndareus, came forth to\nmake her choice.  The hearts of all the suitors stood still; they could\nnot bear to look toward her, although her heavenly beauty was modestly\nhidden beneath her thick veil.  She came into the hall: she passed\nIdomeneus, who sat nearest the inner chamber; she passed the mighty\nAjax, him of the noble form and the eagle eye; she passed the doughty\nDiomede, wielder of the sword; she passed Philoctetes, and Odysseus, and\nthe stout-limbed son of Oileus.  The hearts of the younger suitors on\nthe hither side of the hall began to beat with high hopes.\n\n\"She surely has her eyes on me!\" said the coxcomb Nireus, speaking to\nhimself.\n\nShe came to the table where Menelaus, the brother of Agamemnon, sat.\nShe paused a moment, and then she held out her lily-white hand, in token\nthat he was the husband of her choice.  The great silence was at once\nbroken, and a mighty shout went up to the high roof of the palace.\nEvery one of the slighted suitors felt for an instant the keen pang of\ndisappointment; then, remembering their oaths, all joined in wishing joy\nto Menelaus and his bride.  Some, however, chagrined and crestfallen,\nsoon withdrew from the palace; and calling their servitors about them,\nthey secretly and in haste departed from Lacedaemon.  When the morning\ndawned, only ten of the young princes still staid in the halls of old\nTyndareus.\n\nIt was easy to understand why these remained. Sweet-faced Penelope had\nwon other hearts beside that of young Odysseus.  \"Since the glorious\nHelen is to be the bride of Menelaus,\" said each of those who tarried,\n\"why shall not her fair cousin--who is worthier if not so beautiful--be\nmine to wed?\"\n\nAnd straightway they beset Icarius with offers of rich gifts, begging\nhim to set a bride-price on his daughter, and bestow her upon him who\nshould agree most willingly to pay it.  The old man was sorely troubled,\nfor he loved his daughter dearly; and he could not bear the thought that\na strange prince should lead her into distant lands where, perchance,\nhis eyes should never more behold her.\n\nWhile he pondered sadly, sitting alone and bewildered in his chamber, he\nheard a minstrel singing in the hall. He listened.  It was a song about\nAtalanta the fair huntress of Arcadia, beginning with the time when\nMeleager of the golden hair awarded her the prize in the far-off wood of\nCalydon.\n\nThen the minstrel sang of the maiden's return to Arcadia: How she had\nstopped at Delphi on her way, and had asked the Pythia in Apollo's\ntemple to reveal the secrets of her future life.  How the oracle could\ntell her nothing of the things that would befall her, but only gave her\nthis advice: \"Keep thyself from wedlock's chains!\"  How, when she came\nagain to her father's palace, she found him beset by suitors asking for\nthe hand of his fleet-footed daughter.  Then the maiden, calling to mind\nthe Pythia's warning, besought her father to send the suitors home, and\nlet her, like Artemis, live unwedded; for she would be as free as the\nwinds which play in the lovely vales of Mantinea, or beat the bleak tops\nof Mount Enispe.  But old Iasus was a crafty man--an unfeeling father,\nloving gold more than his daughter.  \"Behold,\" said he, \"the bride-price\nthat is offered.  Shall I refuse so great gain, simply to please thy\nsilly whims?\"  Then Atalanta was sorely troubled, and she prayed\nArtemis, the huntress-queen, to send her help in the time of her great\nneed.  And Artemis hearkened, and spoke words of comfort to her heart;\nand kind Pallas Athene gave her wisdom.\n\n\"My father,\" said she to old Iasus, \"take thou the bride-price that any\nsuitor may offer for me--but on these conditions: that he shall make\ntrial with me in the foot-race, and if he outrun me, then I will go with\nhim as his bride; but if I outstrip him in the race, then he is to lose\nthe bride-price offered, and his life is to be at your mercy.\"\n\nCrafty Iasus was highly pleased, and he rubbed his palms together with\ndelight; and he caused the heralds to proclaim the terms on which the\nmatchless Atalanta might be won.  Some of the suitors departed in\ndespair, for they knew that no mortal man was so fleet of foot as the\nlovely huntress of Arcadia.  But many others, less wise, put themselves\nin training for the trial.  Then one by one, like silly moths plunging\ninto the candle's flame, they went down to the race-course of old Iasus,\nand tried their speed with that of the wing-footed damsel; but all\nfailed miserably, and none of them ever returned to their homes or their\nloving friends.  And Iasus grew rich upon the spoils--the jewels, and\nthe bride-gifts, and the arms--which he thus gained from the luckless\nlovers.\n\nOne day Milanion, a youth from distant Scandia, came to try his fortune.\n\"Knowest thou the terms?\" asked Iasus.\n\n\"I know them,\" was the answer, \"and though they were thrice as hard, yet\nwould I win Atalanta.\"\n\nAnd Atalanta, when she saw his manly, handsome face, and heard his\npleasant voice, was sad to think that one so noble and so brave should\nmeet so hard a fate. But Milanion went down to the race-course with a\nfirm step and a heart full of hope.  For he had prayed to Aphrodite that\nshe would kindly aid his suit, and lend him wings to reach the goal in\nadvance of Atalanta; and Aphrodite had listened to his plea, and had\ngiven him three golden apples, and had whispered a secret in his ear.\n\nThe signal was given, and youth and maiden bounded from the lists like\narrows shot from a bow.  But the maiden was much the fleeter of the two,\nand was soon far in advance.\n\n\"Another fool will soon come to grief!\" said Iasus, laughing loudly.\n\nBy this time Atalanta was near the turning-post, while Milanion,\nstraining every nerve, was many yards behind.  Then he remembered the\nsecret which Aphrodite had whispered, and he threw one of the golden\napples far beyond the post.  It fell upon the green lawn, a\nstone's-throw outside of the course.  The quick eyes of Atalanta marked\nits beauty, and she ran to pick it up.  And while she was seeking it\namong the grass, Milanion passed the turning-post, and was speeding\nswiftly back towards the goal.  It was only a moment, however, until\nAtalanta swift as the wind overtook him, and was again far in the lead.\nThen the young man threw a second apple, this time some distance to the\nright of the course.  The maiden followed, catching it almost before it\nfell; but Milanion had gained a hundred paces on her.  Ere she could\nagain overtake him, he threw his third apple over his shoulder and to\nthe left of the course.  Atalanta, forgetting in her eagerness that the\ngoal was so near, stopped to secure this prize also; and lo! as she\nlifted her eyes, Milanion had reached the end of the course.  Old Iasus\nstormed with rage, and threatened many fearful things.  But Milanion,\nsmiling, came boldly forward and claimed his bride; and she, blushing\nand happy, covered her face with her veil, and followed him willingly to\nthe home of his fathers, in distant Cythera.\n\nSuch was the song which the minstrel sang, and to which Icarius listened\nwhile sitting in his chamber. Suddenly a new thought seemed to strike\nhim, and he bade a herald call before him all the suitors of sweet\nPenelope.\n\n\"My young friends,\" he said, \"you have asked me for my daughter's hand,\nand promised me a liberal bride-price.  I need none of your gold, nor do\nI wish to give my daughter to a stranger with whom she would be loath to\ngo.  Hence I shall do after this manner: He who shall win in a foot-race\nto-day, on the long course beyond the market-place, shall be husband of\nPenelope, but on this condition: that, if she choose to go with him,\nthen he is to have her without the payment of a price; but if she choose\nto stay with me, then he shall pay me a rich dower, and straightway\ndepart forever from the gates of Lacedaemon.\"\n\nThe suitors heard the words of old Icarius, and all assented.  Then soon\nthe people were gathered again in the broad market-place; the long\nrace-course was cleared and put in order, and every thing was made ready\nfor the trial.  The trumpet sounded, and the young princes came forward\nlightly clad for the race. Palamedes, the cousin of Menelaus, fair and\ntall; and Ajax Oileus, who had won the race on the preceding day; and\nMegas, brave as Mars, from far Dulichium; and Thoas, the AEtolian\nprince; and Phidippus, the grandson of great Heracles; and Protesilaus,\nfrom distant Thessaly; and Eumelus, son of Admetus and the divine\nAlcestis; and Polypoetes, descended from the Lapith king Peirithous and\nHippodameia the daughter of the Centaurs; and Elphenor, the son of\nlarge-souled Chalcodon, ruler of Euboea and the valorous Abantes; and\nlastly, Odysseus, who had shrewdly planned all matters to this end.\nRarely have ten men so noble stood up together to contend for honors or\nthe winner's prize.\n\nThe word was given, and they darted forth, at once and swiftly, raising\na cloud of dust along the course. From the very start, they strained at\nutmost speed; they reached the turning-post, and hurried onward to the\ngoal.  But now stout Ajax no longer took the lead; for Odysseus ran\nbefore the rest, and passed the goal, and came to the crowd by the\nlists, while yet the others with laboring breath were speeding down the\ncourse.\n\nOld Icarius was pleased with the issue of the race. For he hoped that\nPenelope would not consent to wed Odysseus and follow him to distant\nIthaca; and, if so, he would be happily rid of all the troublesome\nsuitors.\n\n\"Come here, my sweet daughter,\" he said.  \"This young man, a stranger\nfrom a far-off land, has won thee in the games; yet the choice is thine.\nWilt thou leave thy old father, lonely and alone in Lacedaemon,\npreferring to share the fortunes of this stranger?  Or wilt thou stay\nwith me, and bid him seek a wife among the daughters of his own people?\"\n\nAnd sweet Penelope covered her face with her veil to hide her blushes,\nand said, \"He is my husband; I will go with him.\"\n\nIcarius said no more.  But on that spot he after wards raised a marble\nstatue--a statue of Penelope veiling her blushes--and he dedicated it to\nModesty.\n\nSoon afterward Odysseus returned with his young wife to his own home and\nfriends in sea-girt Ithaca. And, next to Penelope, the richest treasure\nthat he carried thither was the bow of Eurytus.\n\n\n\n\n                           _*ADVENTURE XIV.*_\n\n                   *HOW A GREAT HERO MET HIS MASTER.*\n\n\nNow, after two years and more had passed in peace, there came one day to\nIthaca an aged wanderer who had many things of great import to tell.\nFor he had been in every land and in every clime, and had trod the\nstreets of every city, even from Pylos to Iolcos by the sea; and he knew\nwhat deeds had been done by all the heroes, and what fortunes or\nmisfortunes had befallen mankind in every part of Hellas.  And Odysseus\nand the elders of Ithaca loved to sit around him in the banquet chamber\nof Laertes, and listen to his stories, of which there was no end.  For\nin that wonderful Golden Age, these strollers--blind bards and\nstory-tellers--were the people's newspapers, and oftentimes the only\nmeans by which those of one country could learn aught of what was\npassing in another.\n\n\"Alas! the world is no longer as it was in the days of my youth,\" said\nthe old newsmonger, one morning, with a sigh.  \"The heroes are all\npassing away. Indeed, of the older race, I can now remember only three\nwho are still living,--Peleus, the king of the Myrmidons; Nestor, of\nlordly Pylos; and Laertes, in whose halls we are sitting.\"\n\n\"You forget Cheiron, the wise master,\" said Odysseus.\n\n\"By no means,\" was the answer.  \"It is now seven years since Zeus took\nhim from earth, and set him among the stars.  Some say that Heracles,\nwhile fighting with unfriendly Centaurs, unwittingly struck the great\nmaster with one of his poisoned arrows.  Others say that the master,\nwhile looking at an arrow, carelessly dropped it upon his own foot, thus\nwounding himself unto death.  But who is right, I cannot tell. I only\nknow that Cheiron lives no longer in his cave-hall on rugged Pelion, and\nthat the old heroes are all fast following him to the land of the\nunknown.\"\n\n\"But what of Neleus, the old father of Nestor? And what of my dear\nfriend Iphitus of OEchalia?  And what of great Heracles?  Surely the\nrace of heroes still lives in them.\"\n\n\"Can it be that you have not heard the sad story?\" asked the old man.\n\"Can it be that no one has yet brought to you the strange news, over\nwhich all Hellas has been weeping?  Two harvests now have passed since\nthe noble spirit of Iphitus fled down the dark ways,--it may be to the\ngloomy halls of Hades, it may be to the dwelling-place of fair-haired\nRhadamanthus in the Islands of the Blest.  And old Neleus followed\nswiftly in his footsteps, his feeble life snuffed out by the mad hand of\nHeracles.  Nor did great Heracles himself long survive the evil deed and\nthe wrath of the eternal powers.  But now he sits enthroned on high\nOlympus, and walks the earth no more.\"\n\n\"Pray tell us how it all came about,\" said King Laertes anxiously.\n\nThen the old news-monger, prefacing his story with a sad, wild song,\ntold how the greatest hero of the Golden Age met at last his master,\neven Death, the master of all earth's creatures.  And this was the story\nthat he told:--\n\n\n\"When Heracles fled from Calydon, as you already know, he went to\nTrachis in Thessaly, close by the springs of OEta; and there he abode a\nlong time.  Yet his mind was ill at rest, and dire forebodings filled\nhis soul; for cruel Here was threatening him with madness, such as had\nonce before darkened his life and driven him to deeds too terrible to\nthink upon.  And so, at length, he kissed his dear wife and his lovely\nbabes, and went forth to wander once more in loneliness from land to\nland.  He knew that he would not return; and, unknown to Deianeira, he\nleft in his dwelling a letter, such as men write when they feel that the\nend is drawing nigh.  In it he told how the doves in the old oaks of\nDodona had shown him that within the space of a year and three months he\nshould depart from this earth; and then he gave directions how his goods\nshould be given to his children and his friends, and what they should do\nto hold his memory in honor.\n\n\"After this he took ship, and came by sea to his old home at Tiryns,\nwhere erstwhile he had served his brother and task-master, Eurystheus.\nThere he sojourned many days; and there he met Iphitus of OEchalia, his\nfriend in early youth, seeking twelve horses of great worth and beauty,\nwhich had been stolen from him.\n\n\"'Go you to Pherae in Messene,' said Heracles, his mind even then\nverging towards madness.  'It may be that the beasts have been taken by\nthe lawless men of that country, for they live by robbery.  But if you\nfail to find your horses there, come again to Tiryns, and report to me;\nand then I will aid you, even though we should have to seek them in the\npasture lands of old Autolycus beneath the shadow of Parnassus.'\n\n\"So Iphitus, with a score of his bravest followers, went down into\nMessene and Laconia, and even to the gates of Lacedaemon, looking for\nhis horses.  But he found no traces of the beasts; and in time he came\nagain to Tiryns, as the great hero had directed him.\n\n\"Sad, however, was the day of his return, for the mind of Heracles was\nshrouded in deep darkness. While Iphitus sat as a guest at his table,\nthe mighty son of Zeus arose in his madness, and slew him; and Heracles\ncared not for the vengeance of the gods, nor for the honor of his own\nboard.  Moreover, the goodly horses of Iphitus were even then feeding in\nhis stables at Tiryns, for Heracles himself had found them.\n\n\"But after this the light began to struggle feebly in his mind, and the\nthought of his crime bore heavily upon him.  Then he remembered old\nNeleus, the most ancient of men, and knew that he sat in the\nmarket-place at Pylos dealing out justice to all who came to him.  And\nstraightway he went by the nearest road to Pylos, and besought Neleus\nthe venerable to purify him for the evil deed that he had done.  But\nIphitus and his father, old Eurytus, had been very dear to\nNeleus,--comrades and friends, indeed, in the stirring days of their\nyouth.\n\n\"'The blood of good Iphitus be upon you,' said the old man to Heracles;\nand he would not purify him, neither would he comfort him with words of\nkindness.\n\n\"Then madness again overpowered the great hero, and in his wrath he\nmarched through Pylos breathing slaughter.  And he slew old Neleus in\nthe market-place, and put his sons and the elders of Pylos to the sword,\nsparing only the knightly Nestor, most discreet of men.  But the fury of\nthe great hero was not to run unchecked.  The ever-living powers can\nnever look with favor upon that man who slays his guest in his halls or\nwho deals harshly with old age.  And so they caused Heracles to be sold\nto Omphale, queen of Lydia, to serve her as a bond-slave for a year and\na day. And in that far-distant land he toiled at many a thankless task\nuntil the days of his bondage were ended. Yet the great cloud was only a\nlittle way lifted from his mind, and he thought to himself that all the\nmisery that had ever been his had come upon him through the house of\nEurytus.  So he swore with a great oath, that, when he had gotten his\nfreedom, he would utterly destroy OEchalia, and would sell all its\npeople into bondage.  For, in a dazed, unreasoning way, he remembered\nfair Iole, and the slight which Eurytus had put upon him when he made\ntrial of his skill in archery.\n\n\"Now, when he was set free, he remembered all too well the vow which he\nhad made; and when he had overthrown OEchalia, and had taken captive all\nthe fair women and children, he bethought him that he would go again to\nTrachis where his wife and children still dwelt.  But on his way thither\nhe stopped for a time in Euboea to offer sacrifice to Zeus; and he sent\nhis herald Lichas on before him, with certain of the captives.  When\nLichas came to Trachis, and made himself known to Deianeira, she asked\nhim what word he had brought from Heracles his master.\n\n\"'He is alive and well,' said the herald, 'and he tarries for a while in\nEuboea to build an altar to Zeus.\n\n\"'Why does he do that?' asked Deianeira.\n\n\"'He does it to fulfil a vow,' answered the herald,--'a vow which he\nmade ere yet he had overthrown OEchalia and had led captive these fair\nwomen whom thou seest.'\n\n\"Then Deianeira drew nearer, and looked with pity upon the captives as\nthey stood in sad array on the shore of the desolate sea.  And she\nlifted her hands toward heaven, and prayed that the great powers would\nkeep her from such a fate and would shield her children that so sad an\nevil should never overtake them.  Then she saw that one among the\ncaptives was much more beautiful than the others, tall and very fair,\nwith long golden tresses, and eyes as round as the moon and as blue as\nthe deep sea.  And Deianeira, wondering whether she were not some great\nman's daughter, asked her who she was; but the sad captive answered not\na word.  The tender heart of the queen was filled with pity; and she\nbade that the beautiful lady should be taken into the great hall of\nHeracles, and treated with the utmost kindness, that so she should not\nhave sorrow heaped upon sorrow.  Then she asked Lichas to tell her who\nthe lady was; but he said that he knew not, save that she seemed to be\nwell born.\n\n\"But now when Lichas had gone to the tents by the shore, there came to\nDeianeira in the palace a mischief-maker who told her that Lichas had\nnot answered truly in this matter.\n\n\"'He knows, as well as I, who this fair stranger is,' said the\nmischief-maker.  'She is the daughter of King Eurytus of OEchalia, and\nthe sister of Iphitus. Her name is Iole; and it was for the sake of her\nbeauty that Heracles destroyed her father's city.'\n\n[Illustration: DEIANEIRA AND THE DYING CENTAUR NESSUS.]\n\n\"Then Deianeira was sadly troubled lest the heart of the great hero\nshould be turned away from her, and his affections set upon this lovely\ncaptive.  So she sent again for Lichas, and questioned him still\nfurther.  At first he denied that he knew any thing about the fair lady;\nbut afterwards, when hard pressed, he said, 'She is indeed Iole, the\nfair damsel whom Heracles loved in the springtime of youth.  But why he\nhas brought this great grief upon her, and upon her father's house, I\ncannot tell.'\n\n\"Sorely troubled now was Deianeira, and all day long she sat in her\nchamber, and pondered what she should do.  And when the evening was\ncome, she called her friends together, the women and maidens who dwelt\nin Trachis, and talked with them.\n\n\"'I have been thinking of what I can do to keep my husband's love,' she\nsaid.  'I had almost forgotten that I have a charm which will help me,\nor I might not have been so sadly troubled.  Years and years ago, when\nwe were fleeing from my dear old home at Calydon, we came to the river\nEvenus.  The water was very deep, and the current very swift; but there\nlived on the banks of the stream an old Centaur, named Nessus, whose\nbusiness it was to ferry travellers across to the other shore.  He first\ntook my husband safely over, and then myself and our little son Hyllus.\nBut he was so rude, and withal so savage in his manners, that Heracles\nwas greatly angered at him; and he drew his bow, and shot the brutish\nfellow with one of his poisoned arrows.  Then my woman's heart was\nfilled with pity for the dying Centaur, wicked though he was; and I felt\nloath to leave him suffering alone upon the banks of Evenus.  And he,\nseeing me look back, beckoned me to him.  \"Woman,\" he said, \"I am dying;\nbut first I would give thee a precious gift. Fill a vial with the blood\nthat flows from this wound, and it shall come to pass that if ever thy\nhusband's affections grow cold, it will serve as a charm to make him\nlove thee as before.  It needs only that thou shouldst smear the blood\nupon a garment, and then cause him to wear the garment so that the heat\nof the sun or of a fire shall strike upon it.\"  I quickly filled the\nvial, as he directed, and hastened to follow my husband.'\n\n\"Then Deianeira called the herald Lichas, and said, 'Behold, here is a\nfair white garment which I have woven with my own hands; and I vowed\nmany days ago, that, if my husband should again come home, I would give\nhim this garment to wear while offering sacrifice.  Now he tarries, as\nyou say, to do homage to the gods in Euboea.  Go back, therefore, to\nmeet him, and give him this white robe as a gift from his wife. Say to\nhim that on no account shall he let another wear it; and that he shall\nkeep it carefully folded up, away from the light and the heat, until he\nshall be ready to clothe himself in it.'\n\n\"The herald promised to do as he was bidden; and in that same hour he\nhastened back to meet his master in Euboea, taking with him his master's\nyoung son Hyllus.\n\n\"Not many days after this, a great cry and sad bewailings were heard in\nthe house of Heracles; and Deianeira rushed forth from her chamber\ncrying aloud that she had done some terrible deed.  'For I anointed the\nfair robe which I sent to my husband with the blood of Nessus the\nCentaur; and now, behold, the bit of woollen cloth which I dipped into\nthe charm, and used as a brush in spreading it upon the robe, is turned\nto dust, as if a fire had burned it up.  I have not forgotten any thing\nthat the Centaur told me: how I was to keep the charm where neither the\nlight of the sun nor the heat of the fire could touch it.  And this I\nhave done until now; only the bit of woollen cloth was left lying in the\nsunshine. Oh, fearful am I that I have slain my husband!  For why should\nthe Centaur wish to do well by the man who brought death upon him?'\n\n\"Hardly had she spoken these words when her son Hyllus came in great\nhaste to the palace, even into the woman's hall where she stood.\n\n\"'O my mother!' he cried.  'Would that you were not my mother!  For do\nyou know that you have this day brought death and destruction upon my\nfather.'\n\n\"'Oh, say not so, my son,' wailed Deianeira.  'It cannot be!'\n\n\"'But truly it is so,' said Hyllus.  'For when Lichas and myself came to\nEuboea bearing the white robe which you sent, we found my father ready\nto begin his offering of sacrifices.  And he was glad to see me and to\nhear from you; and he took the beautiful robe and put it upon him.  Then\nhe slew twelve fair oxen, and joyfully worshipped the ever-living\npowers.  But when the fire grew hot, the deadly robe began to cling to\nhim, and pangs, as if caused by the stings of serpents, shot through\nhim, and the pains of death seized on him.  He asked Lichas why he had\nbrought that robe; and when the herald told him that it was your gift,\nhe seized the wretch, and cast him over the cliff upon the sharp rocks\nbeneath. And great fear filled the hearts of all who saw the sufferings\nof the mighty hero; and none of them dared come near him, so terrible\nwere his struggles. Then he called to me, and said, \"Come here, my son.\nDo not flee from your father in his great distress; but carry me from\nthis land, and set me where the eyes of no man shall see me.\"  And so we\nput him in the hold of our good ship, and brought him home with us to\nTrachis.  And soon you shall see what you have done; for you have slain\nyour husband,--a hero the like of whom the world shall never see again.'\n\n\"When Deianeira heard these words she made no answer, but, with one\ndespairing cry, she hasted to her high-built chamber; and when, soon\nafterward, her maidens sought her there, she was dead.  Then Hyllus\ncame, also seeking her; for the women of the household had told him how\nshe had been deceived by the dying Centaur.  And when he saw her\nlifeless form, he wept bitterly, and cried out that now indeed the Fates\nhad bereft him of both father and mother on the same day.\n\n\"Then they brought Heracles into his own broad hall, bearing him upon a\nlitter.  He was asleep; for the pain had left him a little while, and\ntired Nature was taking her dues.  But the sad wailings of his son awoke\nhim; and again he cried aloud in his agony, and besought those who stood\naround him that they would give him a sword wherewith to end his pain.\nThen Hyllus came into the hall, and told his father all about the\nterrible mistake which his mother had made, and how the Centaur had\ndeceived her, and how she was at that moment lying dead, with a broken\nheart, in the chamber overhead.\n\n\"'Then, indeed, is my doom come,' cried Heracles. 'For long ago the\noracles spake of me, that I should die, not by the hands of any living\nbeing, but by the guile of one dwelling in the regions of the dead.  So\nnow Nessus, whom I slew so long ago, is avenged; for he has slain me.\nNow, my son, carry me to the wooded summit of the hill of OEta, and\nbuild there a great pile of olive beams and of oak; and, when it is\nfinished, lay me upon it, and set fire unto it.  And shed no tear,\nneither utter any cry, but work in silence; for thus thou shalt prove\nthyself a son of Heracles.'\n\n\"The boy promised to do all this as his father wished, only he would not\nset fire to the pile.  So when he had built the pile, and had put\nbetween the beams great stores of spices and sweet-smelling herbs, they\nlaid Heracles upon it; and Philoctetes, the hero's armor-bearer, set\nfire to the pile.  And Heracles, for this kindness, gave to Philoctetes\nhis famous bow,--a weapon more marvellous even than the bow of Eurytus.\nThen the red flames shot high towards heaven, shedding brightness over\nland and sea; and the mighty hero was at rest.  He had met his master.\"\n\n\nSuch was the story that the old news-monger told in the hall of King\nLaertes.\n\n\n\n\n                           _*ADVENTURE XV.*_\n\n                         *LONG LIVE THE KING!*\n\n\n\"Surely,\" sighed Laertes, \"the old heroes pass away; but the younger\nheroes press hard in their footsteps, and will fill their places well.\nThe gods have written it in every tree, and upon every blade of grass,\nthat the aged, however worthy, cannot endure forever. The ripened fruit\nfalls to the ground, but there will be other and better fruit on the\nbranches by and by. Ancient Cronos gave place, not willingly, to Zeus;\nand Zeus is by far the greater of the two.  And there be certain oracles\nwhich have foretold the doom of Zeus; even that he shall be hurled from\nhis throne by a king of peace, who shall reign everlastingly.\"\n\nThen on a day, he called the elders of Ithaca together, and spoke to\nthem in this wise: \"My son Odysseus is now a grown-up man, wise and\nshrewd beyond any other among you.  He is skilled in all kinds of\nknowledge and of handicraft; in matters of judgment he is without a\npeer, and in matters requiring courage he is foremost among men.\nMoreover, he is married to a wife, sweet Penelope, unexcelled in wifely\nvirtues; and he has a son and heir, Telemachus,--a smiling babe who has\nnot yet seen the round of one full moon.  Now, why should the old branch\nstand longer in the way of the new and vigorous shoot?  This day I will\ngive up my kingdom to my son, and he shall henceforth rule this island\nin his own name.\"\n\nAnd all the people rejoiced when they heard his words; and straightway\nthey hailed Odysseus king of Ithaca, and offered thanksgiving and\nsacrifice to Pallas Athene, who had blessed him with wisdom above that\nof other men.  And good Laertes retired to his mountain farm, where no\nvexing questions of government would take him away from his vines and\nfruit-trees. \"Here,\" said he, \"I hope to end my days in peace.\"\n\nWhen the men of Cephallenia and the dwellers in the rugged island of\nZacynthus heard that young Odysseus ruled by his own right in Ithaca,\nthey came and offered him their friendship and allegiance; for they were\nkinsmen of the Ithacans.  They brought rich presents of corn and wine\nand of long-wooled sheep, and promised to bear him aid in time of need,\nif ever that time should come.\n\nAt about this time, old Icarius, the father of Penelope, came to Ithaca\nfor a brief visit to his daughter. For his eyes had long yearned to see\nher, and he could find no rest until he knew that she was happy and well\ncared for in the new home which she had chosen. And Penelope asked him a\nthousand questions about her friends and her kinsfolk in dear old\nLacedaemon, and to all these questions he made answer as he best knew.\n\n\"We have now a new king at Lacedaemon,\" said Icarius, \"even brave\nMenelaus, the husband of your cousin Helen.\"\n\n\"But where is King Tyndareus, my good uncle?\" asked Penelope.  \"And\nwhere are my noble twin cousins, Castor and Polydeuces?  Do they share\nthe kingdom with Menelaus?\"\n\n\"I will tell you all about it,\" answered her father. And then he told\nher how it had come about that Menelaus was called to the kingship of\nLacedaemon:--\n\n\n\"As the feebleness of age began to take hold upon him, King Tyndareus\nbethought him that he would resign his kingdom to his sons, the twin\nheroes Castor and Polydeuces.  But the restless youths cared not to take\nupon them duties which would keep them within the narrow bounds of\nLacedaemon; for they were not home-stayers, but they wandered hither and\nthither over many seas and through strange lands, doing brave and noble\ndeeds innumerable.  The story of their labors in times of peace and of\ntheir prowess in times of war was upon every tongue, and was sung by\nminstrels in every city of Hellas.  Wherever public games were held,\nthere the twins were the masters of the course and the field, and the\nawarders of the prizes.  Wherever battles raged and where the fight was\nthickest, there the glorious heroes, on their snow-white steeds, were\nseen striking fearlessly for the cause of right. And men told how it was\nthey who first taught the bards to sing songs of battle and paeans of\nvictory; and how it was they who first showed the glad feet of the\nvictors how to tread the wild mazes of the war-dance; and how it was\nthey who, in their friendship for seafarers, had guided many a vessel\nover the roughest seas, safe into the wished-for haven.  They belonged\nnot more to their native Lacedaemon than to the whole wide world.\n\n\"There came a time, however, when the men of Laconia quarrelled with\ntheir neighbors of Arcadia, and there was war upon the borders.  Then\nCastor and Polydeuces hastened to take sides with their kinsmen.\nMounted on their swift steeds, Phlogios and Harpagos, the gifts of\nHermes, they made raid after raid across the mountains; and they brought\nback many a choice herd of cattle, or flock of sheep, from the pasture\nlands of Arcadia.\n\n\"It happened on a day, that their cousins Idas and Lynceus, two lawless\nmen from Messene, joined them, and the four drove many cattle across the\nborders, and hid them in a glen at the foot of Mount Taygetus. Then they\nagreed that Idas should divide the booty into four parts, and give to\neach a part.  But Idas was a crafty man, more famed for his guile than\nfor his courage; and he planned how he might take all the herd for his\nown.  So he killed a fat ox, and having flayed and dressed it, he cut it\ninto four parts.  Then he called the other men about him.\n\n\"'It would be a great pity to divide so fine a herd as this of ours\namong four owners,' he said.  'Therefore I have a plan by which one, or\nat most two of us, may fairly gain the whole.  Behold, here are the four\nquarters of the ox which I have slain.  This quarter belongs to Castor,\nthis to Polydeuces, this to Lynceus, and this to myself.  He who first\neats the share allotted to him shall have half of the cattle for his\nown; he who next finishes shall have the other half.'\n\n\"Then, without another word, he began to eat the quarter which he had\nallotted to himself; nor was he long devouring it, but with greedy haste\nconsumed it before his comrades had tasted even a morsel.  Next he\nseized upon the part assigned to Lynceus, and ate it as quickly as his\nown.\n\n\"'The cattle are all mine!' he cried.  And calling upon his brother to\nhelp him, they drove the whole herd into Messene.\n\n\"Then anger filled the souls of the twin heroes, and they vowed to take\nvengeance upon their crafty kinsmen.  One night when the moon lighted up\nboth plain and mountain with her silvery beams, they made a rapid ride\ninto Messene, and brought back not only the herd which Idas had taken\nfrom them by fraud, but as many cattle as were feeding in the Messenian\nmeadows. Then, knowing that their cousins would follow them in hot\nhaste, they hid themselves in the hollow of a tree in the mountain pass,\nand waited for the morning.\n\n\"At break of day, the two Messenians, having missed their cattle,\nhastened to follow their trail to Mount Taygetus.  Then Lynceus, whose\nsharp eyes could see through rocks and the trunks of trees, climbed to\nthe top of a crag to look about them; for they feared lest they should\nfall into an ambush.  And as he peered into every nook and glen and\ngorge of the wild mountain, he saw the twins close-hidden in the hollow\ntrunk of an oak.  Then quickly he descended, and with stealthy tread he\nand Idas drew near their hiding-place. Castor saw them first; but before\nhe could speak, a spear from the hand of Idas laid him low in death.\nThen mighty Polydeuces leaped forth in his wrath, and rushed upon the\nslayers of his brother.  Fear seized upon them, and they fled with\nwinged feet into Messene, and paused not until they stood by the marble\ntomb of their father, great Aphareus.  But Polydeuces, following on,\novertook them there, and with his spear he smote Lynceus a deadly blow.\nAt the same time, a peal of thunder shook the mountain and rolled over\nthe plain; and Zeus hurled his fiery bolts at the bosom of crafty Idas,\nand laid him dead upon his father's tomb.\n\n\"The grief of Polydeuces for the death of Castor was terrible to see;\nand there was no one in all the world who could comfort him, or in any\nway make him forget his loss.  Then he prayed the gods that they would\ntake him, too, to Hades, that he might be in the dear company of his\nbrother.  And Zeus heard his prayer; and he asked Polydeuces to choose\nwhether he would sit in the courts of Olympus, and be the peer of Ares\nand Pallas Athene, or whether he would share all things with Castor.\nAnd the glorious hero cried, 'Let me be forever with my brother!'  His\nwish was granted to him; and the twin heroes still live, although the\nquickening earth lies over them.  One day they wander in the fields of\nasphodel, and enjoy the bliss of immortality; the next, they flit among\nthe unquiet shades in the sunless regions of the dead.  And thus they\nshare together whatever of joy or woe the grave can bring.\n\n\"When King Tyndareus learned that he was bereft of his sons, he fell\nprone to the earth; and no one in Lacedaemon could console him.  'Send\nfor Helen, my peerless daughter!' he cried.  'Send for Menelaus. He is\nmy only son.  He shall dwell in my palace, and rule in my stead!'\n\n\"And that is the way in which it came about, that Menelaus was called to\nthe kingship of Lacedaemon.\"\n\n\nOld Icarius remained but a short time at Ithaca.  A ship was waiting in\nthe harbor, ready to sail to Pylos and the ports beyond; and he knew\nthat a like opportunity to return to Lacedaemon might not soon be\noffered.  And so, leaving his blessing with his children Odysseus and\nPenelope and the babe Telemachus, he departed.\n\n\n\n\n                           _*ADVENTURE XVI.*_\n\n                     *THE CHILDREN OF PROMETHEUS.*\n\n\nThere was sore distress in Lacedaemon.  Famine and a deadly pestilence\ngrieved the land, and in every household the notes of wailing and\ndespair were heard. For Apollo, vexed because the men of Laconia were so\nslow to understand his wishes, was shooting his fateful arrows broadcast\namong them.  Like a night-cloud he brooded over the land, and strong men\nand fair women and helpless babes all fell alike beneath the sharp blows\nof his deadly shafts.  And the heart of Menelaus the king was burdened\nwith grief because of the people's sore affliction.  Then, when he found\nthat sacrifice of lambs and goats availed him nothing, he sent in haste\nto ask the oracles the cause of Apollo's wrath, and to learn what could\nbe done to stay the plague.  The answer came as quickly:--\n\n\"When the bones of the children of Prometheus are brought from Ilios,\nand entombed in Lacedaemon, then the wrath of silver-bowed Apollo shall\nbe turned aside, and the smiles of his favor shall bless the land.\"\n\nThen Menelaus made ready to depart at once to Troy to do that which\nApollo demanded.  A short journey by land brought him to the\nstrong-built town of Helos on the shore of the eastern sea.  There a\nswift-sailing ship lay at its moorings, while a score of long-haired\nseamen paced the beach, anxious to embark upon any errand across\nPoseidon's watery kingdom.  The captain hailed the king with joy, and\nthe ship was soon made ready for the long voyage to Ilios.  A plenteous\nstock of food was stored away in the broad hold; arms, for defence\nagainst sea robbers and savage men, were put in order, and hung in their\nplaces; and rich presents for Priam, king of Troy, were taken on board.\n\nThe next day a favoring wind sprang up; the sails were set; the seamen\ntook their places; and the ship with King Menelaus on board sped on its\nway to distant Ilios.  Poseidon, looking out from his golden palace\nbeneath the sea, saw the vessel as it hastened on its errand; and he\nbade the waves be still and in no wise hinder its speed, for Apollo's\nbusiness must not be delayed; and he called upon the breezes to blow\nsteadily towards Ilios, that so the embassy of Menelaus might be happily\nperformed.\n\n\"Surely the gods are all in league with us,\" said the captain of the\nship one day, pleased with the delightful voyage.  \"To-morrow we shall\ndoubtless sight the Lesbian coast, and from thence it is but a short\nsail to Ilios and Troy.  And now, as we sit together in the prow of our\ngood vessel, I pray you to tell us the story, once more, of great\nPrometheus, the bones of whose children seem so precious to Apollo.\"\n\nAnd Menelaus willingly consented, and told the story as he himself had\noft-times heard it from the bards:--\n\n\n\"When Zeus waged pitiless war upon the Titans, and hurled them headlong\nfrom the heights of Mount Olympus, he spared from the general ruin those\nwho fought not with their own kindred, but espoused his cause. Among\nthese and foremost of all was great Prometheus, whose name is\nForethought, and whose chiefest glory lies in this, that he was the\nfriend and lover of mankind.  It was the hope of bettering man's\ncondition that led him to fight against his kindred, and to aid in\nplacing Zeus upon the throne of ancient Cronos.  Yet Zeus cared naught\nfor the feeble children of earth, but sought rather to make their\nburdens heavier and their lives more sad, that so the race might perish\nutterly. And the great mind of Prometheus set to work to learn how to\nmake their lot less sad and their lives less miserable.\n\n\"He saw that as yet they dwelt without forethought upon the earth, their\nlife's whole length being aimless, and their minds as void of reason as\nis the beast's. They lived in sunless caverns, or in holes scooped in\nthe ground; and no provision did they make for heat or cold or times of\nscarcity, or the varying needs of youth and age.  And Prometheus wasted\nno vain words in pity, but took at once upon him the Titanic task of\nlifting the race up to a level with the gods.  First, he taught them the\nuse of fire, which, some say, he stole from Helios' car, and brought to\nthe earth, hidden in a fennel-stalk.  Then he showed them how the stars\nrise and set, and how the seasons change in never-varying order.  He\nshowed them how to yoke and make submissive to their will the wild\nsteeds of the desert plain; how to turn the sod beneath the soil by\nmeans of the furrowing plough; and how to build fair houses and cities\nwith strong walls and frowning towers.  He taught them how to make\nships, the storm-winged chariots of the sea, and how to navigate the\nbriny deep. He showed them the treasures which lie hidden underneath the\nground,--gold, silver, iron,--and taught them how to turn them into\nforms of beauty, strength, and use.  In short, all arts now known to men\ncame to them from the hands and mind of pitying Prometheus.\n\n\"Now, when Zeus looked down from high Olympus, and saw the puny tribes\nof men no longer grovelling in the earth like senseless beasts, but\nstanding upright, and claiming kinship with the gods, he shook with\npent-up anger.  And he called two of his mightiest servants, Strength\nand Force, whom none can resist, and bade them seize the friend of man,\nand bind him upon a peak of the snow-crowned Caucasus, there to linger\nthrough the ages in loneliness and pain.\n\n\"Then the ruthless slaves of Zeus went forth to do his bidding.  They\nseized the mighty Titan, and dragged him to the bleak and barren regions\nof the Caucasus, beyond the utmost limit of the habitable earth.  And\nwith them went the mighty smith Hephaestus, all unwillingly, to bind the\ngreat victim with bonds of brass, which none could loose, to the lonely\nmountain crags.\n\n\"'This thing I do loathing,' said Hephaestus.  'Here I must perforce\nleave thee, chained and bolted to the immovable rocks.  Thou shalt never\nbehold the face of man, nor hear the accents of his voice; but the blaze\nof the unpitying sun shall scorch thy fair skin, and thou shalt long for\nthe night with its shimmering stars to cast a veil of coolness over\nthee.  Year after year, thou shalt keep thy lonely watch in this joyless\nplace, unblest with sleep, and uttering many a cry and unavailing moan.\nFor Zeus is pitiless.  This is what thou gainest for befriending man.'\n\n\"There, then, they left him fettered; but not until rude Strength had\ntaunted him: 'Lo, thou lover of mankind!  Call now the puny race of\nmortals round thee, and crown them with honors!  Could all of them\ntogether lessen thy punishment in the least?  Surely the gods did jest\nwhen they gave thee the name of \"Forethought,\" for thou hast need of\nforethought to free thee from these bonds.'\n\n\"Then, when the solitary sufferer knew that there was no one to hear\nhim, save only the sun, and the earth and the winds, and the winding\nriver and the distant sea, he broke forth in grievous cries and\nlamentations:--\n\n\"'O pitying sky, and swift-winged winds, and river-springs, and the\nmany-twinkling smile of ocean, I cry to you!  O mother Earth, and thou\nall-seeing Sun! behold what I endure because I gave honor to mortals!\nBehold what torture is in store for me, while for ten thousand years I\nwrithe in these unseemly chains! Yet the things that come are all\nforeknown to me, and nothing happens unexpected; and I must bear as best\nI may the ills that will perforce be mine, knowing that the end of all\nthese things shall come to me at last.'\n\n\"Then the Ocean nymphs, with the fragrance of flowers and a rustling\nsound like the whirr of birds, came floating through the air, and\nhovered about the crag where Prometheus was bound.  They had heard the\nclank of the iron and the heavy blow of the sledge resounding to the\nvery cavern-depths of Ocean; and they had hastened to come, and offer\nhim their sympathy.\n\n\"Following them, came old Oceanus himself, riding in his winged chariot;\nfor no firmer friend had Prometheus than this hoary-headed ancient of\nthe encircling sea.  He came to condole with the suffering Titan, and to\ncounsel patience and submission.  But he staid not long.\n\n\"'I will drink the cup of bitterness to its very dregs,' said\nPrometheus, 'and will bide the time when Zeus shall have quenched his\nwrath.'\n\n\"And Oceanus, feeling that he had come in vain, turned about, and gladly\nhastened homeward to his halls beneath the ocean billows.\n\n\"After this many others came, weeping tears of sorrow for the\nsufferer,--tears of anger at the tyranny of Zeus.  And wails of mourning\nwere borne thither on the wings of the wind from all the tribes that\ndwelt in Asia,--from the warrior maidens on the Colchian coasts, from\nthe savage horsemen of the Scythian plains, and from the dwellers on the\nfarther shores of Araby.  But the Titan, chained to the desolate crags,\nsuffered on.  Above him the vultures hovered, and the wild eagles\nshrieked; and sun and storm beat mercilessly upon his head, as the weary\ndays and the lengthening years passed by.  And yet no deliverance came.\n\n\"One day, as he writhed helplessly in his chains, Prometheus saw in the\nvalley below him what at so great distance seemed to be a beautiful\nheifer, having a fair face like that of a woman.  'Surely,' said he\naloud, 'it is the child of Inachus, she who warmed the heart of Zeus,\nand is now through Here's hate changed into an unseemly shape, and\ndriven to weary wanderings.'\n\n\"Then the maiden gazed at him in wonder, and asked, 'Who are you whom\nthe gods have doomed to suffer in this solitary place?  And how came you\nto know my father's name, and the sorrows that have come upon me?  And\ntell me, I pray, if such knowledge be yours, whether there shall ever be\nany help for me, and when my sufferings shall have an end.'\n\n\"The Titan answered, 'I who speak to thee am Prometheus, who brought\ndown fire to men, and gave them knowledge, and taught them how to do\ngodlike things. And I know that thou art Io, once the lovely daughter of\nInachus, king of Argos; but what thou art now, let thy own lips speak\nand answer.'\n\n\"'I cannot choose but tell you all,' the maiden answered, 'though my\nspeech shall with sobs be broken when I recall the memory of happy days\nforever gone. There was a time when in my father's halls I dwelt in\nmaidenly freedom, a spoiled and petted child.  But as I grew to\nwomanhood, dreams came to me which told me that I was beloved by Zeus.\nSuch trouble did these visions bring to me, that I was fain to tell my\nfather of them.  He knew not what to do.  But he sent swift messengers\nto Delphi and Dodona to ask the oracles what the dreams portended, and\nhow he could best give pleasure to the gods.  The answer came, that he\nshould drive me from his doors into the wide and cruel world, or\notherwise the fiery bolts of Zeus would burn up all his household and\ndestroy him utterly.  Reluctantly and weeping bitter tears, he shut me\nout; and lo! straightway my body was changed into the loathed form which\nstands before you, and a gad-fly stung me with its fangs, and I rushed\naway in madness, vainly hoping to find relief at Lerne's fountain water.\nBut there the herdsman Argus, with his hundred eyes, did track me out;\nand with his scourge and the goading fly, I was driven along unending\nways.  Then Hermes, seeing my distress, took pity on me, and sought to\nfree me from my cruel keeper.  But Argus never slept; and with his\nhundred eyes he saw every danger, and shunned it while it was yet afar.\nAt last Hermes bethought him of the power of music.  Playing a soft\nmelody on his lute, he stole gently towards the herdsman; the sweet\nsounds charmed the savage ear, and sleep overpowered the hundred eyes.\nThen Hermes drew his sword quickly, and smote off the head of Argus,\nthus gaining for himself the name of the Argus-queller.  But the shade\nof the terrible herdsman still follows me, and I find no rest; and\naimlessly I have come, thus goaded onward, to this wild mountain\nregion.'\n\n[Illustration: PROMETHEUS.]\n\n\"Then Prometheus in pitying accents said, 'Listen now to me, and I will\ntell thee, Io, what other sorrows thou must bear from Here; for it is\nshe who brought this woe upon thee and who hounds thee thus from land to\nland.  Thou shalt journey onward from these mountain regions through the\nScythian land, and the region of the uncouth Chalybes who work in iron.\nThence thou shalt cross the mountains to the dwelling-place of the\nAmazons, who shall lead thee to the place where the ocean-gates are\nnarrowest.  There thou shalt plunge into the waves, and swim with\nfearlessness of heart to Asia's shore.  And that strait shall by its\nname, Bosphorus, tell to latest ages the story of thy wandering.  But\nwhat I have told thee is only the beginning of thy doom.'\n\n\"Then Io wept.\n\n\"'Were it not better to die,' she asked, 'than to endure this hopeless\nmisery?'\n\n\"'Not so, O maiden,' answered the Titan; 'for if thou livest, then a son\nof thine shall loose me from my fetters, and perchance shall shake the\nthrone of Zeus himself.  When thou hast crossed the sea-ways which part\nthe continent, thou shalt wander on until thou hast reached the outmost\nislands where the Gorgons dwell; then returning thou shalt pass through\nthe country of the griffins and the region of Ethiopia, and shalt come\nat last to the three-cornered ground where flows the Nile.  There thou\nshalt rest, and thy maiden form with all its comeliness shall be thine\nagain.  In Canobus, a fair city by the sea, shall a home be made for\nthee; and there shall Epaphos thy son be born, from whom in after-times\nshall spring great Heracles, who shall break my bonds and set me free\nfrom these hated fetters.'\n\n\"Then Io, with a sigh of mingled hope and despair, went on her weary\nway, and left Prometheus alone again in the everlasting solitudes.  And\nthe wild eagles swooped down from their high-built nests, and circled\nwith threatening screams about him; a grim vulture flapped its wings in\nhis face, and buried its talons in his bosom; a mighty storm came\nhurtling down through the mountain passes; the earth shook to and fro,\nand the peaks of Caucasus seemed as if toppling to their base; a\nhurricane of snow and hail and rattling ice smote the Titan about the\nhead, and wrapped his body in eddying gusts; the lightnings leaped with\nlurid glare athwart the sky, and the thunders crashed with deafening\nroar among the crags; and earth and air and sea seemed blent together in\na mighty turmoil, and whirling into utter chaos.  Yet, in the midst of\nall, the old Titan quailed not; but with voice serene and strong he sang\nof the day when right shall triumph over might, when truth shall trample\nerror in the dust, and the reign of Zeus give place to that of a nobler\nmonarch just and perfect in all his ways.\n\n\"Thus years upon years passed, and ages circled by, until thirteen\ngenerations of men had lived and died upon the earth.  Then came\nHeracles, the descendant of Io, to purge the world of vile monsters, and\nto give freedom to those who were in bonds.  And as he wandered from\nland to land, to do the bidding of his master Eurystheus, he passed\nthrough Ethiopia, and came to the region of the Caucasus, close by the\neastern Ocean's stream.  There, as he gazed upward at the everlasting\npeaks, he saw the great Titan fettered to the naked rock, while the\neagles circled about him, and the grim vulture digged its talons into\nhis flesh; and Heracles knew that this was Prometheus the ancient, the\nfriend of the human race and the foe of tyrants.  He drew his bow, and\nwith his unerring arrows slew the eagles and the vulture; and then, with\nmighty blows of his club, he broke the chains which Hephaestus of old\nhad wrought, and with his strong hands he loosed the long-suffering\nprisoner from his fetters.  And the earth rejoiced; and men everywhere\nsang paeans of triumph, because freedom had been given to him who raised\nthem from the dust, and endowed them with the light of reason and the\nfire of god-like intelligence.\"\n\nThis was the tale which Menelaus told to a company of eager listeners\nseated about him, in the prow of the swift-sailing vessel.\n\n\"Now you should know,\" he added, \"that every lover of freedom in Hellas\nis in truth a child of Prometheus.  And so when Apollo, through his\noracle, bade me fetch from Ilios the bones of the old Titan's children,\nI understood that I was to gather the dust of all the Hellenes who have\ndied in the Trojan land, and carry it to Lacedaemon for honored burial.\nAnd such is the errand upon which we are sailing to-day.\"\n\n\"But why is it said that every Hellene is a child of Prometheus?\" asked\nthe captain.  \"Is it simply because he is a lover of freedom and a hater\nof tyrants, as the old Titan was?  Or is there a real line of kinship\nreaching from us up to him?\"\n\n\"I will tell you,\" answered the king.  \"While Prometheus hung fettered\nto the bleak crag of Caucasus, and in grim patience bided the day of\ndeliverance, his son Deucalion tilled the plains of Phthia, and gathered\nthe ripe fruits on its sunny hills.  And he dwelt in peace with all men,\ncherishing in his heart the words which his father had spoken to him in\nformer times.  But the world was full of wickedness, and there was\nviolence and bloodshed everywhere; and men no longer had respect for the\ngods, or love for one another.  'We are a law unto ourselves,' they\ncried.  'Why then should any one obey the behests of a master whom he\nhas not seen?'  And they went on eating and drinking and making merry,\nand gave no thanks to the giver of every good.\n\n\"At length, when their wickedness waxed so great that it was past all\nbearing, Zeus spoke the word, and a mighty flood burst upon the land.\nThe west wind came sweeping in from the great sea, bringing in its arms\ndark clouds laden with rain.  And when Deucalion saw the veil of\ndarkness covering the sky, and heard the roar of the hurricane in the\nvalley below him, he called to Pyrrha, his golden-haired wife, and said,\n'Surely, now, the day has come of which my father told me often,--the\nday when floods of water shall come upon the earth to punish the\nwickedness of men. Hasten into the ark which I have built, that, if so\nbe, we may save ourselves from the merciless waves.'\n\n\"And they made the ark ready, and put a great store of food in its broad\nhold, and waited for the rising of the waters.  Nor was it long; for the\ntorrents gushed down from the hillsides and filled the valleys, and the\nplains were covered over, and the forests sank from sight beneath the\nwaves.  But Deucalion and Pyrrha sat in the ark, and floated safely on\nthe bosom of the heaving waters.  Day after day they drifted hither and\nthither, until at last the ark rested on the lofty peak of Parnassus.\nThen Deucalion and Pyrrha stepped out upon the dry ground; the rain\nceased to fall, the clouds were scattered, and the waters fled down the\nvalleys and hastened to the sea; but all the people of Hellas, save only\nDeucalion and Pyrrha, had perished in the flood.  And feeling their\nloneliness in the midst of the ruin and death which had come upon the\nland, these two built an altar to the gods, and offered thanks for their\ndeliverance.  Then Zeus sent Hermes, the bright messenger, to speak\nwords of comfort to them.\n\n\"'Among all the folk of this land,' he said, 'you alone have lived\nblameless lives, and with your clean hands and pure hearts have pleased\nthe immortals.  Ask now what you most desire, and it shall be given to\nyou.'\n\n\"Then Deucalion wept as he bowed before the messenger.  'Grant that we\nmay see the earth teeming again with busy men,' he said.\n\n\"'It shall be as you wish,' answered Hermes.  'As you go down the\nmountain into the plain, cover your faces with your mantles, and throw\nthe bones of your mother behind you.'\n\n\"Then the messenger left them, and they wondered between themselves what\nwas the meaning of his words.\n\n\"'Who is our mother?' asked Pyrrha.\n\n\"'Is not the earth the mother of us all?' then answered Deucalion.  'His\nmeaning is plain enough now.'\n\n\"So, as they went down Parnassus, they took up stones, and threw them\nbehind them.  And the stones which Deucalion threw sprang up and were\nmighty armed men; and those which Pyrrha threw became fair women.  Thus\nthe hills and the valleys were peopled anew; and the earth smiled and\nwas glad that a new and happier day had dawned.\n\n\"But Deucalion went with Pyrrha into Locris; and there he built the city\nof Opus, where he reigned king for many years; and there sons and\ndaughters, noble and beautiful, were born; but the noblest was Hellen,\nfrom whom the Hellenes are descended, and our country of Hellas takes\nits name.\n\n\"Do you understand now how every one of us can claim to be a son of\ngreat Prometheus?\"\n\n\n\n\n                          _*ADVENTURE XVII.*_\n\n                           *A CAUSE OF WAR.*\n\n\nTime passed.\n\nMenelaus had returned from Ilios, bringing with him the bones of his\ncountrymen who had died in that distant land.  The great plague had been\nstayed, for the anger of Apollo had been assuaged.  And it had seemed\nfor a time that the old days of peace and plenty had come again to\nLacedaemon, never to depart.\n\nYet within a few weeks all was changed once more. There was silence in\nthe golden halls of Menelaus, and guests sat no longer as of yore around\nthe banquet tables.  Anger and grief and uneasiness were plainly seen in\nevery face.  Men gathered in the streets, and talked in wild, excited\ntones about the strange things which had lately happened in Lacedaemon;\nand the words \"Helen,\" and \"Paris,\" and \"Troy,\" and \"Ilios\" seemed to be\non every tongue, and repeated with every sign of love and hatred, of\nadmiration and anxiety.\n\n\"Our good king, by his visit to Ilios, lifted the scourge of pestilence\nand famine from our land,\" said one of the elders of the city; \"but he\nbrought to our shores a greater evil,--even Paris, the handsome prince\nof Troy.  And now the glory of our country, the sun which delighted all\nhearts, the peerless Helen, has been stolen by the perfidious one, and\ncarried to his home beyond the sea.\"\n\n\"And do you think there will be war?\" asked a long-haired soldier,\ntoying with the short dagger in his belt.\n\n\"How can it be otherwise?\" answered the elder. \"When Menelaus won\npeerless Helen for his wife, the noblest princes of Hellas promised with\nsolemn oaths that they would aid him against any one who should try\neither by guile or by force to take her from him.  Let the word be\ncarried from city to city, and all Hellas will soon be in arms.  The\nking, with his brother Agamemnon, has even now crossed over to Pylos to\ntake counsel with old Nestor, the wisest of men.  When he comes back to\nLacedaemon, you may expect to see the watch-fires blazing on the\nmountain-tops.\"\n\n\"No sight would be more welcome,\" answered the soldier.\n\n\"None, indeed, save only the towers and palaces of Troy in flames!\"\nreturned the other earnestly.\n\n                     *      *      *      *      *\n\nMeanwhile, with troubled brow and anxious heart, Menelaus sat in\nNestor's halls, and told the story of his wrongs.  Before him, seated on\na fair embroidered couch, was the aged king, listening with eager ears.\nBehind him stood his brother Agamemnon, tall and strong, and with eye\nand forehead like mighty Zeus. Close by his feet two heroes sat: on this\nside, Antilochus, the valiant son of Nestor; and on that, sage\nPalamedes, prince of Euboea's distant shores.  The last had just arrived\nat Pylos, and had not learned the errand which had brought the king of\nLacedaemon thither.\n\n\"Tell again the story of your visit to Troy,\" said Nestor.  \"Our guest,\ngood Palamedes, would fain understand it all; and I doubt not that he\nmay be of service to your cause.\"\n\nThen Menelaus began once more at the beginning,--\n\n\"There is no need that I should speak of the long voyage to Ilios, or of\nthe causes which persuaded me to undertake it.  When I drew near the\nlofty citadels of Troy, and through the Scaean gates could see the rows\nof stately dwellings and Athene's marble temple, and the busy\nmarket-place of that great city, I stopped there in wonder, fearing to\nventure farther.  Then I sent a herald to the gates, who should make\nknown my name and lineage, and the errand upon which I had come; but I\nwaited without in the shade of a spreading beech, not far from the\ntowering wall.  Before me stood the mighty city; behind me the fertile\nplain sloped gently to the sea; in the distance I could see the tomb of\nIlus and the sparkling waters of Scamander; while much farther, and on\nthe other side, the wooded peak of Ida lifted itself toward the clouds.\nBut I had not long to view this scene; for a noble company of men led by\nParis himself, handsome as Apollo, came out of the gates to welcome me.\nWith words of kind greeting from the king, they bade me enter within the\nwalls.  They led me through the Scaean gates and along the well-paved\nstreets, until we came, at last, to Priam's noble hall.  It was a\nsplendid house, with broad doorways and polished porticos, and marble\ncolumns richly carved.  Within were fifty chambers, joining one another,\nall walled with polished stone; in these abode the fifty sons of Priam\nwith their wedded wives.  On the other side, and opening into the court,\nwere twelve chambers, built for his daughters; while over all were the\nsleeping-rooms for that noble household, and around were galleries and\nstairways leading to the king's great hall below.\n\n\"King Priam received me kindly, and, when he understood my errand, left\nnaught undone to help me forward with my wishes.  Ten days I abode as a\nguest in his halls, and when I would return to Lacedaemon he pressed me\nto tarry yet a month in Troy.  But the winds were fair, and the oracles\npromised a pleasant voyage, and I begged that on the twelfth day he\nwould let me depart.  So he and his sons brought many gifts, rich and\nbeautiful, and laid them at my feet,--a fair mantle, and a doublet, and\na talent of fine gold, and a sword with a silver-studded hilt, and a\ndrinking-cup richly engraved that I might remember them when I pour\nlibations to the gods.\n\n\"'Take these gifts,' said Priam, 'as tokens of our friendship for you,\nand not only for you, but for all who dwell in distant Hellas.  For we\ntoo are the children of the immortals.  Our mighty ancestor, Dardanus,\nwas the son of Zeus.  He it was who built Dardania on the slopes of Ida,\nwhere the waters gush in many silvery streams from underneath the rocky\nearth.  To Dardanus a son was born named Erichthonius, who, in his time,\nwas the richest of mortal men.  And Erichthonius was the father of Tros,\nto whom were born three noble sons, Ilus, Assaracus, and Ganymedes. The\nlast was the handsomest of men, and for his beauty's sake the gods\ncarried him to Ida's sacred summit to be the cup-bearer of Father Zeus\nand the companion of the immortals.  Then Ilus had a son, famous in song\nand story, named Laomedon, who in his old age became my father.  He,\nthough my sire, did many unwise things, and brought sore distress upon\nthe people of this land.\n\n\"'One day Apollo and Poseidon came to sacred Troy, disguised as humble\nwayfarers seeking some employment. This they did because so ordered by\nmighty Zeus.\n\n\"'\"What can you do?\" asked my father, when the two had told their\nwishes.\n\n\"'Poseidon answered, \"I am a builder of walls.\"\n\n\"'And Apollo answered, \"I am a shepherd, and a tender of herds.\"\n\n\"'\"It is well,\" answered Laomedon.  \"The wall-builder shall build a wall\naround this Troy so high and strong that no enemy can pass it.  The\nshepherd shall tend my herds of crook-horned kine in the wooded glens of\nIda.  If at the end of a twelvemonth, the wall be built, and if the\ncattle thrive without loss of one, then I will pay you your hire: a\ntalent of gold, two tripods of silver, rich robes, and armor such as\nheroes wear.\"\n\n\"'So the shining archer, and the shaker of the earth, served my father\nthrough the year for the hire which he had promised.  Poseidon built a\nwall, high and fair, around the city; and Apollo tended the shambling\nkine, and lost not one.  But when they claimed their hire, Laomedon\ndrove them away with threats, telling them that he would bind their feet\nand hands together, and sell them as slaves into some distant land,\nhaving first sheared off their ears with his sharp sword.  And the twain\nwent away with angry hearts, planning in their minds how they might\navenge themselves.\n\n\"'Back to his watery kingdom, and his golden palace beneath the sea,\nwent great Poseidon.  He harnessed his steeds to his chariot, and rode\nforth upon the waves. He loosed the mighty winds from their\nprison-house, and sent them raging over the sea.  The angry waters\nrushed in upon the land; they covered the pastures and the rich plain of\nTroy, and threatened even to beat down the mighty walls which their king\nhad built. Then, little by little, the flood shrank back again; and the\npeople went out of the city to see the waste of slime and black mud\nwhich covered their meadows.  While they were gazing upon the scene, a\nfearful monster, sent by angry Poseidon, came up out of the sea, and\nfell upon them, and drove them with hideous slaughter back to the city\ngates; neither would he allow any one to come outside of the walls.\n\n\"'Then my father, in his great distress, clad himself in mourning, and\nwent in deep humility to the temple of Athene, where stands the\nheaven-sent statue which we call Palladion.  In sore distress, he called\nunto the goddess, and besought to know the means whereby the anger of\nPoseidon might be assuaged.  And in solemn tones a voice came from the\nmoveless lips of the Palladion, saying,--\n\n\"'\"Every day one of the maidens of Troy must be fed to the monster\noutside of the walls.  The shaker of the earth has spoken.  Disobey him\nnot, lest more cruel punishments befall thee.\"\n\n\"'Then in every house of Troy there was sore distress and lamentation,\nfor no one knew upon whom the doom would soonest fall.  And every day a\nhapless maiden, young and fair, was chained to the great rock by the\nshore, and left there to be the food of the pitiless monster.  And the\npeople cried aloud in their distress, and cursed the mighty walls and\nthe high towers which had been reared by the unpaid labors of Poseidon;\nand my father sat upon his high seat, and trembled because of the dire\ncalamities which his own deeds had brought upon his people.\n\n\"'At last, after many humbler victims had perished, the lot fell upon\nthe fairest of my sisters, Hesione, my father's best-loved daughter.  In\nsorrow we arrayed her in garments befitting one doomed to an untimely\ndeath; and when we had bidden her a last farewell, we gave her to the\nheralds to lead forth to the place of sacrifice. Just then, however, a\nnoble stranger, taller and more stately than any man in Troy, came down\nthe street from the Scaean gate.  Fair-haired and blue-eyed, handsome\nand strong, he seemed a very god to all who looked upon him.  Over his\nshoulder he wore the tawny skin of a mighty lion, while in his hand he\ncarried a club most wonderful to behold.  And the people, as he passed,\nprayed him that he would free our city from the dread monster who was\nrobbing us of our fair loved ones.\n\n\"'\"I know that thou art a god!\" cried my father, when he saw the\nstranger.  \"I pray thee, save my daughter, who even now is being led\nforth to a cruel death!\"\n\n\"'\"You make mistake,\" answered the fair stranger. \"I am not one of the\ngods.  My name is Heracles, and like you I am mortal.  Yet I may help\nyou in this your time of need.\"\n\n\"'Now, in my father's stables there were twelve fair steeds, the best\nthat the earth ever knew.  So light of foot were they, that when they\nbounded over the land, they might run upon the topmost ears of ripened\ncorn, and break them not; and when they bounded over the sea, not even\nPoseidon's steeds could glide so lightly upon the crests of the waves.\nSome say they were the steeds of Boreas given to my grandfather Tros, by\nhis sire Erichthonius; others, that they were the price which Zeus paid\nfor godlike Ganymedes, most beautiful of men.  These steeds, my father\npromised to give to Heracles if he would save Hesione.\n\n\"'Then the heralds led my fair sister to the shore, and chained her to\nthe rock, there to wait for the coming of the monster.  But Heracles\nstood near her, fearless in his strength.  Soon the waves began to rise;\nthe waters were disturbed, and the great beast, with hoarse bellowings,\nlifted his head above the breakers, and rushed forward to seize his fair\nprey. Then the hero sprang to meet him.  With blow upon blow from his\nmighty club, he felled the monster; the waters of the sea were reddened\nwith blood; Hesione was saved, and Troy was freed from the dreadful\ncurse.\n\n\"'\"Behold thy daughter!\" said Heracles, leading her gently back to the\nScaean gate, and giving her to her father.  \"I have saved her from the\njaws of death, and delivered your country from the dread scourge.  Give\nme now my hire.'\n\n\"'Shame fills my heart as I tell this story, for thanklessness was the\nbane of my father's life.  Ungrateful to the hero who had risked so much\nand done so much that our homes and our country might be saved from\nruin, he turned coldly away from Heracles; then he shut the great gates\nin his face, and barred him out of the city, and taunted him from the\nwalls, saying, \"I owe thee no hire!  Begone from our coasts, ere I\nscourge thee hence!\"\n\n\"'Full of wrath, the hero turned away.  \"I go, but I will come again,\"\nhe said.\n\n\"'Then peace and plenty blessed once more the land of Ilios, and men\nforgot the perils from which they had been delivered.  But ere long,\ngreat Heracles returned, as he had promised; and with him came a mighty\nfleet of white-sailed ships and many warriors. Neither gates nor strong\nwalls could stand against him. Into the city he marched, and straight to\nmy father's palace.  All fled before him, and the strongest warriors\nquailed beneath his glance.  Here, in this very court, he slew my father\nand my brothers with his terrible arrows.  I myself would have fallen\nbefore his wrath, had not my sister, fair Hesione, pleaded for my life.\n\n\"'\"I spare his life,\" said Heracles, in answer to her prayers, \"for he\nis but a lad.  Yet he must be my slave until you have paid a price for\nhim, and thus redeemed him.\"\n\n\"'Then Hesione took the golden veil from her head, and gave it to the\nhero as my purchase price.  And thenceforward I was called Priam, or the\npurchased; for the name which my mother gave me was Podarkes, or the\nfleet-footed.\n\n\"After this, Heracles and his heroes went on board their ships and\nsailed back across the sea, leaving me alone in my father's halls.  For\nthey took fair Hesione with them, and carried her to Salamis, to be the\nwife of Telamon, the sire of mighty Ajax.  There, through these long\nyears she has lived in sorrow, far removed from home and friends and the\nscenes of her happy childhood.  And now that the hero Telamon, to whom\nshe was wedded, lives no longer, I ween that her life is indeed a\ncheerless one.'\n\n\"When Priam had finished his tale, he drew his seat still nearer mine,\nand looked into my face with anxious, beseeching eyes.  Then he said, 'I\nhave long wished to send a ship across the sea to bring my sister back\nto Troy.  A dark-prowed vessel, built for speed and safety, lies now at\nanchor in the harbor, and a picked crew is ready to embark at any\nmoment.  And here is my son Paris, handsome and brave, who is anxious to\nmake voyage to Salamis, to seek unhappy Hesione.  Yet our seamen, having\nnever ventured far from home, know nothing of the dangers of the deep,\nnor do they feel sure that they can find their way to Hellas.  And so we\nhave a favor to ask of you; and that is, that when your ship sails\nto-morrow, ours may follow in its wake across the sea.'\n\n\"I was glad when Priam spoke these words, for, in truth, I was loath to\npart with Paris; and I arranged at once that he should bear me company\nin my own swift ship, while his vessel with its crew followed not far\nbehind.\n\n\"And so with favoring winds being blessed, we made a quick voyage back\nto Lacedaemon, bringing with us the bones of my beloved countrymen.\nWhat followed is too sad for lengthy mention, and is in part already\nknown to you.  Need I tell you how I opened my halls to Paris, and left\nno act of courtesy undone that I might make him happy?  Need I tell you\nhow he was welcomed by fair Helen, and how the summer days fled by on\ngolden wings; and how in the delights of Lacedaemon he forgot his errand\nto Salamis, and cared only to remain with me, my honored guest and\ntrusted friend? One day a message came to me from my old friend\nIdomeneus.  He had planned a hunt among the mountains and wooded vales\nof Crete, and he invited me to join him in the sport.  I had not seen\nIdomeneus since the time that we together, in friendly contention,\nsought the hand of Helen.  I could not do otherwise than accept his\ninvitation, for he had sent his own ship to carry me over to Crete.  So\nI bade farewell to Helen, saying, 'Let not our noble guest lack\nentertainment while I am gone; and may the golden hours glide happily\nuntil I come again.'  And to Paris I said, 'Tarry another moon in\nLacedaemon; and when I return from Crete, I will go with you to Salamis,\nand aid you in your search for Hesione.'  Then I went on board the\nwaiting ship, and prospering breezes carried us without delays to Crete.\n\n\"Idomeneus received me joyfully, and entertained me most royally in his\npalace; and for nine days we feasted in his halls, and made all things\nready for the hunt. But, lo! on the evening of the last day, a vision\ncame to me.  Gold-winged Iris, the fleet-footed messenger of the gods,\nstood before me.  'Hasten back to Lacedaemon,' she cried, 'for thou art\nrobbed of thy dearest treasure!'  And even while she spoke, one of my\nown ships came sailing into the harbor, bringing trusted heralds whom\nthe elders of Lacedaemon had sent to me.  They told me the fatal news.\n'No sooner were you well on your way,' they said, 'than Paris began to\nput his ship in readiness to depart.  Helen prayed him to tarry until\nyour return, but he would not hearken. \"I will stay no longer,\" he said.\n\"My seamen rest upon their oars; the sails of my ship are spread; the\nbreeze will soon spring up that will carry me to my own fair home across\nthe sea.  But you, beauteous Helen, shall go with me; for the deathless\ngods have spoken it.  Aphrodite, long ago, promised that the most\nbeautiful woman in the world should be my wife.  And who is that most\nbeautiful woman if it is not yourself? Come! fly over the sea, and be my\nqueen.  It is the will of the gods.\"'\n\n\"It was thus that the perfidious Trojan wrought the ruin of all that was\ndear to me.  At first, Helen refused. But Paris is a handsome prince,\nand day after day he renewed his suit.  Then on the sixth day she\nyielded. In the darkness of the night they went on board his waiting\nvessel, carrying with them the gold and jewels of my treasure-house; and\nin the morning, when the sun arose on Lacedaemon, they were far out at\nsea.\n\n\"You know the rest: how in wrath and great sorrow I hurried home from\nCrete; how I first counselled with my own elders, and then with my\nbrother Agamemnon of Mycenae.  And now, O noble Nestor, we have come to\nPylos, seeking thy advice.  On these two things my mind is set: Helen\nmust be mine again, and Paris must suffer the punishment due to\ntraitors.\"\n\n\nWhen Menelaus had ended, sage Nestor answered with many words of\ncounsel.  \"Keep the thought of vengeance ever before you,\" he said.\n\"Yet act not rashly.  The power of Troy is very great; and, in case of\nwar, all the tribes of Asia will make common cause with Ilios.  But an\ninsult to Lacedaemon is an insult to all Hellas, and every loyal Hellene\nwill hasten to avenge it.  More than this, the chiefs of almost every\nstate have already sworn to aid you.  We have but to call upon them, and\nremind them of their oaths, and all the mightiest warriors of our land\nwill take up arms against the power of Troy.\"\n\nThen Palamedes spoke in like manner, and his words had great weight with\nMenelaus; for among all the heroes there were few who equalled him in\nwisdom. He it was who first built beacon fires on the headlands, and\nlighthouses to warn venturous seamen of the hidden dangers in their way;\nhe it was who first invented scales for weighing, and who taught men how\nto measure grain and wine by certain standards; he it was who first made\ndice, and who showed what beauty and mystery lie hidden in the letters\nwhich Cadmus brought from Phoenicia to Hellas.  And he was wise in\nstatecraft and the knowledge of human nature.\n\n\"Nestor has spoken well,\" he said, addressing Menelaus, \"and it behooves\nus to follow his advice.  Now do you and Agamemnon return at once to\nArgos and Lacedaemon, and call upon the fighting men along the eastern\ncoast to join you in the war.  In the mean while, Nestor and myself will\ndo the same, here on the western coast and among the islands of the\nsea.\"\n\n\"By the way,\" said Nestor, \"there is Odysseus, king of Ithaca,--the\nrarest and bravest of men.  Did he but know of this affair, he would be\na host within himself, to lead us to sure victory.\"\n\n\"That is true,\" said Palamedes, \"and we must seek his aid first.  My\nship lies now at anchor, just off the beach; and if noble Nestor will be\nmy comrade, we will sail to-morrow to Ithaca, and make sure of his\nvalued aid.\"\n\n\"Most surely I will go with you,\" said old Nestor. \"And I will never\nrest nor give up the fight, until Helen is returned to Menelaus, and\nParis has received his due reward.\"\n\n\n\n\n                          _*ADVENTURE XVIII.*_\n\n                          *AN UNWILLING HERO.*\n\n\nIn the shade of the orchard trees, at the foot of Mount Neritus, there\nwas gathered, one afternoon, a happy family party.  The chief figure in\nthe group was white-haired Laertes, in his gardener's garb, picking some\nripe fruit from the overloaded branches.  At his right stood Anticleia,\nas queenly beautiful as when her hero-husband had won her in the halls\nof old Autolycus.  At his left was Penelope, her sweet face beaming with\nsmiles; while on the ground beside her sat Odysseus, gently dandling in\nhis arms the babe Telemachus, and laughing at the budding wisdom of the\nchild.\n\n\"Some men wander the wide world over, seeking for empty glory,\" said he,\nturning towards Penelope.  \"But I would rather have my pleasant home,\nand live amid its never-failing delights, than share the honors even of\ngreat Heracles.\"\n\nAt this moment, Phemius the bard was seen coming in haste from the\npalace.  \"What news, Phemius?\" asked Odysseus.  \"Hast thou finished that\nnew song of thine?  And dost thou hasten thus to sing it to us before\nsome part of it shall go out of thy mind?\"\n\n\"Nay, master,\" answered the bard, speaking in anxious tones.  \"I have\ncome to tell you that there are guests waiting in the hall.  Famous men\nthey are,--even Nestor, king of Pylos, and shrewd Palamedes of Euboea.\nAnd they bring wonderful news,--news of that which will, perchance, fill\nour land with sadness.\"\n\n\"Tell me what it is,\" said Odysseus.\n\nThen the bard told the story of Paris and Helen, as he had learned it\nbriefly from Palamedes; and he explained the errand of the hero-guests\nwhich they had thoughtlessly imparted to him.  Odysseus looked at his\nsmiling babe, and at his fair wife, and his loved mother, and his\nhonored father; and his brow darkened as he shook his head, and said,\n\"Why should I risk so much, and, joining in this war, leave all that is\ndear to me on earth, simply for the sake of Menelaus and his misguided\nHelen?\"\n\nThen, after a moment's thought, he added, \"I will not go.  Tell Nestor\nand Palamedes that I am mad, and cannot go.\"\n\nAll at once a great change seemed to come over him. He put the babe into\nits nurse's arms; and then with long strides, and in the aimless manner\nof a maniac, he made his way across the orchard, and along the footpath\nby the beach to the white palace near the shore. When his old friends,\nNestor and Palamedes, saw him, they hastened towards him, expecting to\nreceive his greeting; but with unmeaning words, and a vacant stare, he\npassed by them without a word of recognition. \"He is mad,\" said the\nfrightened servants, as they fled before him.\n\n\"Yes, he is mad, and knows not where he is nor what he does,\" said\nPhemius, hastily rejoining the guests.  \"When I went out to find him\njust now, he was wandering among the fruit trees, picking the green\nfruit, and roaring like a wild beast.  The gods have taken his reason\nfrom him.\"\n\n\"How sad that so great a mind should be thus clouded!\" answered Nestor,\nwith a sigh.  \"And at this time it is doubly sad for us and for all who\nlove him, for we had counted on great things from shrewd Odysseus.\nSurely some unfriendly god has done this thing with intent to harm all\nHellas.\"\n\n\"Do not judge hastily,\" whispered Palamedes.  \"We shall find out from\nwhence this madness comes.\"\n\n[Illustration: PALAMEDES TESTS THE MADNESS OF ODYSSEUS.]\n\nSoon Odysseus rushed from his chamber, looking wildly about him, as if\nthe very Furies were at his heels.  He was dressed in his richest\ngarments, and on his shoulder he carried a bag of salt.  Without\nspeaking to any one, he made his way to the stables, where, with his own\nhands, he harnessed a mule and a cow, and yoked them side by side to a\nplough.  Then he drove his strange team down to the beach, and began to\nplough long, deep furrows in the sand.  By and by he opened the bag of\nsalt, and strewed the white grains here and there, as though he were\nsowing seed.  This strange work he continued until the daylight faded\ninto darkness, and all the people were fain to seek rest under their\nhome-roofs.  Then he drove his team back to the stables, unyoked the\nbeasts and fed them, and hurried silently to his chamber.\n\nThe next morning, as soon as the dawn appeared, he was seen ploughing\nthe sandy beach as before.\n\n\"I will see whether there be any reason in his madness,\" said Palamedes\nto Nestor.\n\nIt chanced at that moment, that Eurycleia the nurse was passing by with\nlittle Telemachus in her arms. Without another word, Palamedes lifted\nthe babe, and laid it smiling in the last furrow that Odysseus had made,\nso that on his next round the team would trample upon it.  As Odysseus\ndrew near, urging forward the mule and the cow, with many cries and\nmaniacal gestures, he saw the helpless babe.  The sight of its danger\nmade him forget himself and his assumed madness; he turned his team\naside, and running forward seized Telemachus, and, kissing his laughing\nlips, handed him, with every show of gentleness, to the good nurse.\n\n\"Ha, Odysseus!\" cried Palamedes.  \"Thou canst not deceive us.  Thou art\nno more mad than I am. Cease now that boyish play, and come and talk\nwith us as becometh a hero.\"\n\nThen Odysseus, seeing that he had been fairly outwitted by one as shrewd\nas himself, knew that further pretence of madness would avail him\nnothing.  For a single moment his brow was clouded with anger, and he\nwhispered hoarsely to Palamedes, \"You shall have your reward for\nthis!\"[1]  Then, leaving his plough and his ill-matched team upon the\nbeach, he took his two guests kindly by the hand, and led them into his\npalace.  A great feast was spread upon the tables, and the morning was\nspent in eating and merry-making, and not a word was said concerning the\ngreat business which had brought the kings to Ithaca.\n\n\n[1] See Note 13 at the end of this volume.\n\n\nLater in the day, however, Nestor told Odysseus the story of the perfidy\nof Paris.  Then Palamedes followed with a speech so clear, so forcible,\nthat the hearts of all who heard it were stirred to their very depths;\nand Odysseus, rising from his seat, renewed the vow which he had made\nwhen Menelaus won fair Helen for his bride.  And from that time to the\nvery end, there was not a man among all the Hellenes, who threw himself\nmore earnestly into the work than did Odysseus.\n\nFor seven days Nestor and Palamedes tarried at Ithaca, talking with\nOdysseus, and making plans for the war against Troy.  On the eighth day,\nthe three heroes embarked for the mainland; and for months they\njourneyed from country to country, and from city to city, reminding the\nprinces of their vows, and stirring all Hellas into a flame.  Soon the\nwatch-fires were kindled on every mountain-top; and every warrior in the\nland made haste to see that his arms were in order, and every seaman to\nput his ship to rights.  And Ares, the mighty god of battle, brandished\nhis sword above the sea; dread comets blazed red in mid-heaven;\nglittering stars fell to the earth, or shot gleaming athwart the sky.\nSounds of warlike preparation were heard, not only in the dwellings of\nmen, but even in the halls of Zeus, upon the airy summit of Olympus.\n\n\n\n\n                           _*ADVENTURE XIX.*_\n\n                       *HEROES IN STRANGE GARB.*\n\n\nThere dwelt at Mycenae a wise soothsayer, named Calchas,--a man versed\nin all the lore of earth and sky, and holding some sort of communion\nwith the immortals.  He could lift the veil of the future, and see what\nto other men lay hidden in the darkness; and next to the Pythian oracle\nat Delphi, or the talking oak of Dodona, he was held in high repute as\nknowing the counsels of the gods.  When all the great chiefs sat one day\nin Agamemnon's hall, and talked of their warriors and their ships and\ntheir arms, and boasted of their readiness to sail at once for Ilios,\nthe old soothsayer came and stood before them.  His white locks streamed\nin flowing waves about his shoulders; his gray eyes gleamed with a\nstrange, wild light; he moved his long arms to and fro above his head,\nand pointed with his thin fingers first towards the sky, and then\ntowards the sea.\n\n\"Hearken ye to the seer,\" said Menelaus; \"he has had a vision, and\nperchance he can tell us how we shall fare in this great business which\nwe have undertaken.\"\n\nThen Calchas spoke and said, \"Verily I know not any thing of this\nmatter, save by the gift of soothsaying which the far-darting Apollo has\nbestowed upon me.  Yet when I inquired of him, this answer did he give:\n'Let the long-haired Hellenes make war upon Troy.  They shall not\nprevail against that city unless Achilles, the dear son of Thetis, lead\nthem.'  Send now for him, and enlist him in your cause; for otherwise\nyou shall fail, and the Trojans shall boast of your ruin!\"\n\nHaving said these words, the seer strode from the hall, leaving the hero\nchiefs alone.  For a time they sat in silence, each pondering the matter\nin his own mind. Then Agamemnon spoke, and his words were full of anger\nand unbelief.  \"Never yet,\" said he, \"did Calchas prophesy any thing but\nill.  He sees naught but evil; and when we feel most sure of success,\nthen it is the joy of his heart to foretell failure.  Now, after the\ngods have thus far favored us, and when all things are in readiness for\nthe gathering together of our forces, this woful soothsayer comes to\ntell us that without Achilles we shall fail.  For my part, I care little\nfor his words, and am willing to run all risks.\"\n\n\"Say not so,\" quickly answered Odysseus.  \"The old man speaks as Apollo\ngives him utterance; and no man shall dare put his judgment in the\nscales against the foreknowledge of the gods.  Let us seek Achilles at\nonce, and persuade him to join us in our league against Ilios.\"\n\n\"But who shall find him?\" asked Menelaus.  \"Two months ago, I was in\nIolcos by the sea, whither I had gone to see old Peleus.  I found that\nthat aged king dwelt no longer in the ancient city, but had removed into\nhis own country of Phthia, and there abode among his Myrmidons.  Into\nPhthia, therefore, I went, hoping to find Achilles also there.  But old\nPeleus wept when I asked about his son.  'In truth, I know not where the\nyoung man is,' he said, in answer to my questions.  'For when the news\nwas noised about, that the chiefs of Hellas were planning war upon Troy,\nthen silver-footed Thetis carried her son into some distant, unknown\nland, and hid him there.  For the Fates have declared the doom of\nAchilles, that his days on earth shall be few but glorious; and his\nmother feared, that, should he join in the great war, he would meet an\nuntimely death.  Thus, then, it is that I am bereft already of my only\nson; for I know not whether I shall ever again behold him.'  In this\nmanner Peleus, the lord of horses, bewailed the absence of his son.  And\nthough in every city I sought news concerning the whereabouts of the\nyoung hero, I could learn nothing whatever.  Even Patroclus, his bosom\nfriend and comrade, wept for him as for one dead.  I do not believe that\nhe can be found in Hellas.\"\n\nThen Nestor the wise arose and spoke.  \"It does not become us,\" he said,\n\"to doubt or dispute the words of Calchas the seer.  Therefore we must\nfind Achilles, and win him to our cause; or, laying aside all thought of\nwar, we must humbly surrender to Paris the noblest treasure of our\ncountry, even beauteous Helen.\"\n\n\"Achilles can be found,\" said Odysseus.  \"I myself will seek him, and\nthe moon shall not wane thrice ere I shall have found him.  Let the best\nship in Argos be put in readiness at once; and let a crew of the most\nskilful oarsmen be chosen, and a good store of food be put into the\nhold.  I will embark to-morrow, and you shall see me no more until I\nbring good news of Thetis's godlike son.\"\n\nSo then Odysseus set sail on a long, uncertain voyage to the islands of\nthe sea, in search of the hidden hero.  Vainly did he visit Cythera, the\nlofty isle where Aphrodite first rose in all her beauty from the salt\nsea-foam; he touched at Melos, rich in corn and wine; he skirted Paros,\nknown to all the world for its figs and its spotless marble; he stopped\nfor a month at sacred Delos, the birthplace of Apollo; he explored\nwell-watered Ophiussa, where serpents curse the ground, and grapes grow\npurple on the climbing vines; he sought long time in Andros among the\ngroves and in the temple sacred to ruddy-faced Dionysus: yet in none of\nthese lands heard he any news of the godlike son of Peleus.  Weary of\ntheir long and fruitless voyage, the comrades of Odysseus murmured\nsorely, and besought him to return to Mycenae, and give up the search.\nBut he turned a deaf ear to their pleadings, and sailed away to Scyros,\nwhere old Lycomedes reigned.  For the bright-eyed goddess Athene had\nwhispered to him in a dream, and told him that in the court of Lycomedes\nhe would find the hero for whom he sought.\n\nIn a narrow inlet, hidden by trees and tall reeds, the ship was moored,\nwhile shrewd Odysseus went alone and unheralded to the palace of the\nking.  He had laid aside his warrior's gear, and was now attired in the\nguise of a wandering peddler, and loaded with a heavy pack of precious\nwares.  And lo! as he neared the high-built halls of Lycomedes, he came\nto a spacious garden just outside of the courtyard, and hard by the\nlofty gate. A green hedge ran round it on four sides, while within grew\nmany tall trees laden with fruits and blossoms,--pear trees,\npomegranates, apple trees, and olives.  So well cared for were these\ntrees, that they yielded fruit in every season of the year, nor ever\nfailed, even in winter time.  Beyond these, all manner of garden beds\nwere planted, where flowers bloomed in never-ending freshness,--the dewy\nlotus, the crocus flower, the pale hyacinth, violets, asphodels, and\nfair lilies.  And in their midst, two springs of never-failing water\ngushed: one of them watered the garden and the fields beyond; the other\nran close by the threshold of the palace, and bubbled up in the\nmarket-square, where all the people came to fill their vessels.[1]\n\n\n[1] See Note 14 at the end of this volume.\n\n\nAs Odysseus stood and gazed in rapt delight upon this scene of beauty, a\nparty of happy maidens came through the courtyard, and stopped in the\ngarden to pluck the fruits and flowers.  Then on the open lawn, they\nfell to playing ball; and one among them sang a lightsome song as they\ntossed the missile to and fro, or danced with happy feet upon the\nsmooth-mown sward. When they saw Odysseus standing in the path, they\nstopped their game, and stood silent in their places, scarce knowing\nwhether to advance and greet the stranger kindly, or in girlish\ntimidness to flee into the palace.  The hero opened then his peddler's\npack, and held up to their delighted gaze a golden necklace set with\namber beads.  No further thought of flight had the maidens now.  With\neager yet hesitating feet, they came crowding around him, anxious to see\nwhat other thing of beauty he had brought with him.  One by one, he\nshowed them all his treasures,--ear-rings, bracelets of finest\nworkmanship, clasps, buckles, headbands, and golden hair-pins.  These\nthey took in their hands, and, passing them from one to another, eagerly\ndebated the price.  One only of the company, taller and nobler than the\nothers, stood aloof, and seemed to care nothing for the rich and\nhandsome ornaments.  Odysseus noticed this, but shrewdly kept his\ncounsels to himself.\n\n\"A merchant like myself,\" said he, \"must needs have goods for all,--for\nthe young as well as for the old, for the grave as well as for the gay,\nfor the hero as well as for the lady.  It is his duty no less than his\ndelight to please.\"\n\nWith these words he laid before the maidens a sword with hilt most\ndeftly carved, a dagger with long keen blade, and a helmet thickly\ninlaid with precious gems.  The one who had not cared to look at the\ntrinkets now started quickly as if a trumpet had blown; she took up the\nsword, and handled it like a warrior long used to weapons; she tested\nthe edge of the dagger, and sounded the strength of the helmet.\nOdysseus had learned all that he wished to know.  He thought no more of\nthe ornaments,--the bracelets, the clasps, and the hair-pins,--but gave\nthem to the maidens for any price that they chose to offer.  When all\nwere pleased and satisfied, he turned to that one still toying with the\nsword, and said sharply,--\n\n\"Achilles!\"\n\nHad an earthquake shaken the isle of Scyros at that moment, Achilles\nwould not have been more startled. For the tall, fair body, clad in a\nmaiden's robes, was none other than that long-sought hero.\n\n\"Achilles,\" again said Odysseus, \"I know thee, and it is useless to\nstruggle longer against thy destiny.  Put off that unbecoming garb, and\ncome with me.  Thy countrymen need thee to aid them in waging bitter war\nagainst Troy.\"\n\nThen he told to the listening hero the story of the great wrong which\nParis had done,--the unbearable insult which he had put upon the folk of\nHellas.  No man ever used words more persuasive.  When he had ended,\nAchilles took him by the hand, and said, \"Odysseus, truly do I know the\ndestiny which is mine, and it behooves no man to struggle long against\nthe doom which has been allotted to him.  For the gods ordain that man\nshould live in pain, while they themselves are sorrowless.  You have\nheard it said, how on the threshold of Zeus there stand two caskets full\nof gifts to men.  One casket holds the evil, and one the good; and to\nwhomsoever is dealt a mingled lot, upon him misfortunes sometimes fall,\nand sometimes blessings. So it is with me and with my father's house.\nFor upon Peleus were bestowed rich gifts, even from his birth, and he\nexcelled all other men in good fortune and in wealth; and he was king\nover the Myrmidons; and to him was given a sea-nymph for a wife, even\nThetis, my goddess-mother.  Yet, with all the good, sorrow has come upon\nhim in his old age; for in his halls there are no kingly sons to gladden\nhis heart and hold up his hands.[2]  I am his only son, and of me it has\nbeen written that I am doomed to an untimely death; and it was for this\nthat silver-footed Thetis brought me hither across the sea, and,\nclothing me in maidenly attire, left me to serve in Lycomedes' pleasant\nhalls. But I tire of life like this.  I would rather die to-morrow, a\nhero in some grand struggle, than live a hundred years among these soft\ndelights.  I will sail with you at once for Phthia, where my father\nsits, already bereaved, in his spacious halls.  There I will summon my\nMyrmidons, and my best-loved friend Patroclus; and then with eager\nhearts we will hasten to join our countrymen in war against the Trojan\npower.\"\n\n\n[2] See Note 15 at the end of this volume.\n\n\n                     *      *      *      *      *\n\nThus, then, did Odysseus perform his quest, and thus the last and\ngreatest ally was won to the Hellenic cause.  And yet the war was long\ndelayed.  Many times did the moon wax and wane; and seed-time and\nharvest, and fruit-gathering, and the storms of winter, came again and\nagain in their turn,--and still the heroes were unready to join their\nforces and enter upon the mighty struggle.\n\nAt length, however, after nearly ten years had passed, all the princes\nand warriors of Hellas gathered their ships and men together at Aulis,\nand along the shores of the Euripus.  A thousand dark-hulled vessels\nwere moored in the strait; and a hundred thousand brave men were on\nboard, ready to follow their leaders whithersoever they should order.\n\nChief of all that host was mighty Agamemnon, king of men, bearing the\nsceptre of Mycenae, which Hephaestus, long before, had wrought most\nwondrously. He was clad in flashing armor, and his mind was filled with\noverweening pride when he thought how high he stood among the warriors,\nand that his men were the goodliest and bravest of all that host.\n\nNext to him was Menelaus, silent and discreet, by no means skilled above\nhis fellows, and yet, by reason of his noble heart, beloved and honored\nby all the Greeks; and it was to avenge his wrongs that this mighty\narray of men and ships had been gathered together.\n\nOdysseus came next, shrewd in counsels, and no longer an unwilling hero;\nbut, earnest and active, he moved among the men and ships, inspiring all\nwith zeal and courage.  He wore upon his shoulders a thick purple\nmantle, clasped with a golden brooch of curious workmanship, which\nPenelope had given to him as a parting gift.  Around his waist was a\nshining tunic, soft and smooth, and bright as the sunshine.  With him,\nwherever he went, was his herald and armor-bearer, Eurybates,--a\nhunchbacked, brown-skinned, curly-haired man, whom Odysseus held in high\nesteem because of his rare good sense.\n\nThere, also, was young Achilles, tall and handsome, and swift of foot.\nHis long hair fell about his shoulders like a shower of gold, and his\ngray eyes gleamed like those of the mountain eagle.  By the shore lay\nhis trim ships--fifty in all--with thousands of gallant Myrmidons on\nboard.  And ever at his side was his bosom friend and comrade,\nPatroclus, the son of Menoitios. He it was to whom old Peleus had said\nwhen they were about embarking for Aulis, \"Thou art older than my child\nAchilles, but he is nobler born and mightier far in warlike deeds.  But\nthou art wise and prudent; therefore, do thou speak gentle words of\nwarning to him, and show him what is best to do: he will hearken to thy\nwords spoken for his good.\"\n\nThere also was Ajax, the valiant son of Telamon, huge in body and slow\nin speech, but, next to Achilles, the bravest of all the host.  And the\nother Ajax, clad in his linen corslet, and master of forty ships from\nLocris, moved also among the mightiest of the heroes. There, too, was\nNestor, the aged king of Pylos, rich in wisdom and experience, and\nskilled in persuasive speech.  With him was his son Antilochus, the\nquondam suitor of fair Helen, a warrior worthy of such a sire.\n\nAnd there was Idomeneus, the stalwart chief who ruled the hundred cities\nof Crete, and was the sworn friend of Menelaus.  And there was\nPhiloctetes, the cunning archer, carrying the great bow which had been\ngiven him for his last sad act of friendship to his master, Heracles.\nAnd there was Diomede, of the loud war-cry, wearing the skin of a great\nfiery lion round his shoulders, and marshalling the warriors who had\ncome with him from Argos, and Tiryns of the mighty walls.  And there,\ntoo, among so many others of far greater worth, was Nireus of Syma, his\nwell-oiled locks as neatly curled, and his linen as spotlessly white, as\nwhen in youth he had sued for Helen's hand in the court of old\nTyndareus.\n\nNow when the day had come for the fleet to sail, the chiefs stood upon\nthe shore, and offered solemn sacrifices to Poseidon, and prayed the\ngods to prosper them in their undertaking and bring them safe again to\ntheir loved homes in Hellas.  While they were burning the choicest bits\nof fat and flesh, behold, a strange thing happened!  From a crevice in\nthe rocks a shining serpent, with glittering cold eyes and forked\ntongue, came creeping silently into the sunlight.  The heroes gazed upon\nit with wonder in their faces, for they knew that it was sent as a sign\nto them.  Not far away stood a plane-tree, green with foliage, in which\na bird had built her nest; and in the nest were nine tiny fledglings,\ntenderly cared for by the mother bird.  Straight to this tree the\nserpent crept; it twined around the trunk, and stealthily climbed to the\nnest; it seized the helpless little ones in its fangs and devoured them;\nthen it darted upon the distressed mother bird, and destroyed her most\npitilessly.  But now a gleam of lightning flashed across the sky, and a\npeal of thunder shook the earth and sea.  When the astonished chiefs\nlooked up again, behold, the serpent had been turned into stone.\n\n\"Call Calchas the seer, and let him tell us what this portends!\" they\ncried.\n\nThen Calchas, his long hair streaming in the wind, his wild eyes rolling\nin awe, his gaunt arms waving to and fro above his head, came and looked\nupon the wonder.\n\n\"Ye men of Hellas!\" he cried, \"I will tell you what this portends.  As\nthere were nine birds in the nest, ye shall war nine years against Troy,\nand shall not prevail; but, even as the serpent destroyed the mother\nbird, so in the tenth year shall the city and its god-built walls fall\ninto your hands.\"\n\n\n\n\n                           _*ADVENTURE XX.*_\n\n                          *BECALMED AT AULIS.*\n\n\nA pleasant wind from the west sprang up, and drove the great fleet out\ninto the sea.  Not a single one of the thousand ships was lost or left\nbehind; and after a quick and happy voyage, they came in sight of a\nfruitful land and a great city with high towers and pleasant dwellings.\n\n\"The gods have favored us, even beyond what we asked!\" cried the\nHellenes.\n\nAchilles and his Myrmidons landed first, and without waiting for the\nother ships to come up, they rushed across the plain, and began an\nassault upon the town. Like a swarm of locusts lighting down upon a\nfield of grain, and consuming every thing before them, so came the\ndestroying Hellenes.  The gates were broken down; the astonished people\nfled in dismay, and sought safety among the hills and in the forest on\nthe other side of the town.  Not until many houses had been burned, and\nmany people slain, did Odysseus and Menelaus, whose ships had been\ndelayed, reach the place.\n\n\"Men of Hellas!\" they cried, hastening into the midst of the carnage.\n\"What is this you are doing? This is not Troy.  It is the peaceful city\nof Teuthrania in Mysia.  Cease your slaughter, and return at once to\nyour vessels, lest the wrath of the gods fall upon you.\"\n\nThe word was carried from mouth to mouth; and the hasty heroes,\ncrestfallen and ashamed, stopped their bloody work, and turned their\nfaces back towards the shore where their ships lay beached.  None too\nsoon did they retreat; for the king of Mysia, one Telephus a son of\nHeracles, having quickly called his warriors together, fell upon their\nrear, and slew great numbers of them, following them even to the sloping\nbeach.  As the last ship was pushing out, an arrow from the bow of King\nTelephus struck Patroclus, wounding him sorely.  Then Achilles, poising\nhis long spear, threw it with deadly aim among the Mysians; it struck\nKing Telephus, and laid him senseless though not slain upon the sandy\nplain.\n\nNo sooner had the fleet set sail again upon the sea, than Poseidon\nstirred up the waves in anger, and loosed the winds upon them.  Great\nwas the terror, and great indeed was the destruction.  Some of the ships\nwere sunk in mid-sea, and some were driven upon the rocks and wrecked.\nBut the greater number of them, after days and weeks of buffeting with\nthe waves, made their way back to Aulis.\n\nWhen the heroes stood again on the shores of the Euripus, they began to\nthink that doubtless there was some truth in the omen of the snake and\nthe birds; and the most hopeful among them ceased to dream of taking\nTroy in a day.  While waiting for stragglers to come in, and for the\nshattered vessels to be repaired, they found enough to do to keep the\ntime from dragging heavily; and when not engaged in some kind of labor\nthey amused themselves with various games, and great sport had they with\nquoits and javelins, with bows and arrows, and in wrestling and running.\nAnd now and then they went out into the woods of Euboea, and hunted the\nwild deer which roamed there in abundance.\n\nOne day it chanced that Agamemnon, while hunting, started a fine stag,\nand gave it a long chase among the hills and through the wooded dells,\nuntil it sought safety in a grove sacred to Artemis the huntress queen.\nThe proud king knew that this was a holy place where beasts and birds\nmight rest secure from harm; yet he cared naught for what Artemis had\nordained, and with his swift arrows he slew the panting deer.  Then was\nthe huntress queen moved with anger, and she declared that the ships of\nthe Hellenes should not sail from Aulis until the king had atoned for\nhis crime. And a great calm rested upon the sea, and not a breath of air\nstirred the sails at the mast-heads of the ships.  Day after day and\nweek after week went by, and not a speck of cloud was seen in the sky\nabove, and not a ripple on the glassy face of the deep.  All the ships\nhad been put in order, new vessels had been built, the warriors had\nburnished their armor and overhauled their arms a thousand times; and\nyet no breeze arose to waft them across the sea.  And they began to\nmurmur, and to talk bitterly against Agamemnon and the chiefs.\n\nIn the mean while, a small vessel driven by rowers came up the Euripus,\nand stopped among the ships at Aulis.  On board of it was King Telephus\nof Mysia, sorely suffering from the wound which Achilles had given him\non the Teuthranian beach.  He had come to seek the hero who had wounded\nhim, for an oracle had told him that he only could heal the grievous\nhurt. Achilles carried the sufferer to his tent, and skilfully dressed\nthe wound, and bound it up with healing herbs; for in his boyhood he had\nlearned from wise old Cheiron how to treat such ailments, and now that\nknowledge was of great use to him.  And soon the king was whole and\nstrong again; and he vowed that he would not leave Achilles, but would\nstay with the Hellenes, and pilot them across the sea to Troy.  Yet the\nwrath of Artemis continued, and not the slightest breeze arose to cool\nthe air, or fill the waiting sails of the ships.\n\nAt last Agamemnon sent for Calchas the soothsayer, and asked him in\nsecret how the anger of the huntress queen might be assuaged.  And the\nsoothsayer with tears and lamentations answered that in no wise could it\nbe done save by the sacrifice to Artemis of his maiden daughter\nIphigenia.  Then the king cried aloud in his grief, and declared that\nthough Troy might stand forever, he would not do that thing; and he bade\na herald go through the camp, and among the ships, and bid every man\ndepart as he chose to his own country.  But before the herald had gone\nfrom his tent, behold his brother Menelaus, the wronged husband of fair\nHelen, stood before him with downcast eyes and saddest of hearts.\n\n\"After ten years of labor and hope,\" said he to Agamemnon, \"wouldst thou\ngive up this enterprise, and lose all?\"\n\nThen Odysseus came also into the tent, and added his persuasions to\nthose of Menelaus.  And the king hearkened to him, for no man was more\ncrafty in counsel; and the three recalled the herald, and formed a plan\nwhereby they might please Artemis by doing as she desired.  And\nAgamemnon, in his weakness, wrote a letter to Clytemnestra his queen,\ntelling her to bring the maiden Iphigenia to Aulis, there to be wedded\nto King Achilles.  \"_Fail not in this_,\" added he, \"_for the godlike\nhero will not sail with us unless my daughter be given to him in\nmarriage_.\"  And when he had written the letter, he sealed it, and sent\nit by a swift messenger to Clytemnestra at Mycenae.\n\n[Illustration: ODYSSEUS AND MENELAUS PERSUADING AGAMEMNON TO SACRIFICE\nIPHIGENIA.]\n\nNevertheless the king's heart was full of sorrow, and when he was alone\nhe planned how he might yet save his daughter.  Night came, but he could\nnot sleep; he walked the floor of his tent; he wept and lamented like\none bereft of reason.  At length he sat down, and wrote another letter:\n\"_Daughter of Leda, send not thy child to Aulis, for I will give her in\nmarriage at another time_.\"  Then he called another messenger, an old\nand trusted servant of the household, and put this letter into his\nhands.\n\n\"Take this with all haste to my queen, who, perchance, is even now on\nher way to Aulis.  Stop not by any cool spring in the groves, and let\nnot thine eyes close for sleep.  And see that the chariot bearing the\nqueen and Iphigenia pass thee not unnoticed.\"\n\nThe messenger took the letter, and hasted away. But hardly had he passed\nthe line of the tents when Menelaus saw him, and took the letter from\nhim.  And when he had read it, he went before his brother, and\nreproached him with bitter words.\n\n\"Before you were chosen captain of the host,\" said he, \"you were kind\nand gentle, and the friend of every man.  There was nothing that you\nwould not do to aid your fellows.  Now you are puffed up with pride and\nvain conceit, and care nothing even for those who are your equals in\npower.  Yet, for all, you are not rid of your well-known cowardice; and\nwhen you saw that your leadership was likely to be taken away from you\nunless you obeyed the commands of Artemis, you agreed to do this thing.\nNow you are trying to break your word, sending secretly to your wife,\nand bidding her not to bring her daughter to Aulis.\"\n\nThen Agamemnon answered, \"Why should I destroy my daughter in order to\nwin back thy wife?  Let the suitors who swore an oath to King Tyndareus\ngo with thee.  In what way am I bound to serve thee?\"\n\n\"Do as you will,\" said Menelaus, going away in wrath.\n\nSoon after this, there came a herald to the king, saying, \"Behold, your\ndaughter Iphigenia has come as you directed, and with her mother and her\nlittle brother Orestes she rests by the spring close to the outer line\nof tents.  And the warriors have gathered around them, and are praising\nher loveliness, and asking many questions; and some say, 'The king is\nsick to see his daughter whom he loves so deeply, and he has made up\nsome excuse to bring her to the camp.'  But I know why you have brought\nher here; for I have been told about the wedding, and the noble groom\nwho is to lead her in marriage; and we will rejoice and be glad, because\nthis is a happy day for the maiden.\"\n\nThen the king was sorely distressed, and knew not what to do.  \"Sad, sad\nindeed,\" said he, \"is the wedding to which the maiden cometh.  For the\nname of the bridegroom is Death.\"\n\nAt the same time Menelaus came back, sorrowful and repentant.  \"You were\nright, my brother,\" said he.  \"What, indeed, has Iphigenia to do with\nHelen, and why should the maiden die for me?  Send the Hellenes to their\nhomes, and let not this great wrong be done.\"\n\n\"But how can I do that now?\" asked Agamemnon. \"The warriors, urged on by\nOdysseus and Calchas, will force me to do the deed.  Or, if I flee to\nMycenae, they will follow me, and slay me, and destroy my city. Oh, woe\nam I, that such a day should ever dawn upon my sight!\"\n\nEven while they spoke together, the queen's chariot drove up to the tent\ndoor, and the queen and Iphigenia and the little Orestes alighted\nquickly, and merrily greeted the king.\n\n\"It is well that you have sent for me, my father,\" said Iphigenia,\ncaressing him.\n\n\"It may be well, and yet it may not,\" said Agamemnon. \"I am exceeding\nglad to see thee alive and happy.\"\n\n\"If you are glad, why then do you weep?\"\n\n\"I am sad because thou wilt be so long time away from me.\"\n\n\"Are you going on a very long voyage, father?\"\n\n\"A long voyage and a sad one, my child.  And thou, also, hast a journey\nto make.\"\n\n\"Must I make it alone, or will my mother go with me?\"\n\n\"Thou must make it alone.  Neither father nor mother nor any friend can\ngo with thee, my child.\"\n\n\"But when shall it be?  I pray that you will hasten this matter with\nTroy, and return home ere then.\"\n\n\"It may be so.  But I must offer a sacrifice to the gods, before we sail\nfrom Aulis.\"\n\n\"That is well.  And may I be present?\"\n\n\"Yes, and thou shalt be very close to the altar.\"\n\n\"Shall I lead in the dances, father?\"\n\nThen the king could say no more, for reason of the great sorrow within\nhim; and he kissed the maiden, and sent her into the tent.  A little\nwhile afterward, the queen came and spoke to him, and asked him about\nthe man to whom their daughter was to be wedded; and Agamemnon, still\ndissembling, told her that the hero's name was Achilles, and that he was\nthe son of old Peleus and the sea-nymph Thetis.\n\n\"And when and where is the marriage to be?\" asked the queen.\n\n\"On the first lucky day in the present moon, and here in our camp at\nAulis,\" answered Agamemnon.\n\n\"Shall I stay here with thee until then?\"\n\n\"Nay, thou must go back to Mycenae without delay.\"\n\n\"But may I not come again?  If I am not here, who will hold up the torch\nfor the bride?\"\n\n\"I will attend to all such matters,\" answered Agamemnon.\n\nBut Clytemnestra was not well pleased, neither could the king persuade\nher at all that she should return to Mycenae.  While yet they were\ntalking, Achilles himself came to the tent door, and said aloud to the\nservant who kept it, \"Tell thy master that Achilles, the son of Peleus,\nwould be pleased to see him.\"\n\nWhen Clytemnestra overheard these words, she hastened to the door, and\noffered the hero her hand. But he was ashamed and drew back, for it was\ndeemed an unseemly thing for men to speak thus with women. Then\nClytemnestra said, \"Why, indeed, should you, who are about to marry my\ndaughter, be ashamed to give me your hand?\"\n\nAchilles was struck with wonder, and asked her what she meant; and when\nshe had explained the matter, he said,--\n\n\"Truly I have never been a suitor for thy daughter, neither has\nAgamemnon or Menelaus spoken a word to me regarding her.\"\n\nAnd now the queen was astonished in her turn, and cried out with shame\nthat she had been so cruelly deceived.  Then the keeper of the door, who\nwas the same that had been sent with the letter, came forward and told\nthe truth regarding the whole matter.  And Clytemnestra cried to\nAchilles, \"O son of the silver-footed Thetis!  Help me and help my\ndaughter Iphigenia, in this time of sorest need!  For we have no friend\nin all this host, and none in whom we can confide but thee.\"\n\nAchilles answered, \"Long time ago I was a pupil of old Cheiron the most\nrighteous of men, and from him I learned to be honest and true.  If\nAgamemnon rule according to right, then I will obey him; but not\notherwise.  And now since thy daughter was brought to this place under\npretence of giving her to me as my bride, I will see that she shall not\nbe slain, neither shall any one dare take her from me.\"\n\nOn the following day, while Agamemnon sat grief-stricken in his tent,\nthe maiden came before him carrying the babe Orestes in her arms; and\nshe cast herself upon her knees at his feet, and caressing his hands,\nshe thus besought him: \"Would, dear father, that I had the voice of\nOrpheus, to whom even the rocks did listen! then I would persuade thee.\nO father!  I am thy child.  I was the first to call thee 'Father,' and\nthe first to whom thou saidst 'My child.'\"\n\nThe father turned his face away, and wept; he could not speak for\nsadness.  Then the maiden went on: \"O, father, hear me! thou to whom my\nvoice was once so sweet that thou wouldst waken me to hear my prattle\namid the songs of birds when it was meaningless as theirs.  And when I\nwas older grown, then thou wouldst say to me, 'Some day, my birdling,\nthou shalt have a nest of thy own, a home of which thou shalt be the\nmistress.'  And I did answer, 'Yes, dear father, and when thou art old I\nwill care for thee, and pay thee with all my heart for the kindness thou\ndost show me.'  But now thou hast forgotten it all, and art ready to\nslay my young life.\"\n\nA deep groan burst from the lips of the mighty king, but he spoke not a\nword.  Then after a death-like silence broken only by the deep\nbreathings of father and child, Iphigenia spoke again: \"My father, can\nthere be any prayer more pure and more persuasive than that of a maiden\nfor her father's welfare? and when the cruel knife shall strike me down,\nthou wilt have one daughter less to pray for thee.\"  A shudder shook the\nframe of Agamemnon, but he answered not a word.\n\nAt that moment Achilles entered.  He had come in haste from the tents\nbeside the shore, and he spoke in hurried, anxious accents.\n\n\"Behold,\" said he, \"a great tumult has arisen in the camp; for Calchas\nhas given out among the men that you refuse to do what Artemis has\nbidden, and that hence these delays and troubles have arisen. And the\nrude soldiers are crying out against you, and declaring that the maiden\nmust die.  When I would have stayed their anger, they took up stones to\nstone me,--my own Myrmidons among the rest.  And now they are making\nready to move upon your tent, threatening to sacrifice you also with\nyour daughter.  But I will fight for you to the utmost, and the maiden\nshall not die.\"\n\nAs he was speaking, Calchas entered, and, grasping the wrist of the\npleading maiden, lifted her to her feet.  She looked up, and saw his\nstony face and hard cold eyes; and turning again to Agamemnon, she said,\n\"O father, the ships shall sail, for I will die for thee.\"\n\nThen Achilles said to her, \"Fair maiden, thou art by far the noblest and\nmost lovely of thy sex.  Fain would I save thee from this fate, even\nthough every man in Hellas be against me.  Fly with me quickly to my\nlong-oared galley, and I will carry thee safely away from this accursed\nplace.\"\n\n\"Not so,\" answered Iphigenia: \"I will give up my life for my father and\nthis land of the Hellenes, and no man shall suffer for me.\"\n\nAnd the pitiless priest led her through the throng of rude soldiers, to\nthe grove of Artemis, wherein an altar had been built.  But Achilles and\nAgamemnon covered their faces with their mantles, and staid inside the\ntent.  Then Talthybius the herald stood up, and bade the warriors keep\nsilence; and Calchas put a garland of sweet-smelling flowers about the\nvictim's head.\n\n\"Let no man touch me,\" said the maiden, \"for I offer my neck to the\nsword with right good will, that so my father may live and prosper.\"\n\nIn silence and great awe, the warriors stood around, while Calchas drew\na sharp knife from its scabbard. But, lo! as he struck, the maiden was\nnot there; and in her stead, a noble deer lay dying on the altar.  Then\nthe old soothsayer cried out in triumphant tones, \"See now, ye men of\nHellas, how the gods have provided for you a sacrifice, and saved the\ninnocent daughter of the king!\"  And all the people shouted with joy;\nand in that self-same hour, a strong breeze came down the Euripus, and\nfilled the idle sails of the waiting ships.\n\n\"To Troy! to Troy!\" cried the Hellenes; and every man hastened aboard\nhis vessel.\n\nHow it was that fair Iphigenia escaped the knife; by whom she was saved,\nor whither she went,--no one knew.  Some say that Artemis carried her\naway to the land of the Taurians, where she had a temple and an altar;\nand that, long years afterward, her brother Orestes found her there, and\nbore her back to her girlhood's home, even to Mycenae.  But whether this\nbe true or not, I know that there have been maidens as noble, as loving,\nas innocent as she, who have given up their lives in order to make this\nworld a purer and happier place in which to live; and these are not\ndead, but live in the grateful memories of those whom they loved and\nsaved.\n\n\n\n\n                          _*ADVENTURE XXI*_*.*\n\n                           *THE LONG SIEGE.*\n\n\nThe great fleet sailed once more across the sea, piloted now by\nTelephus, the king of Mysia; and the ships of Achilles and those of\nPhiloctetes of Meliboea led all the rest.  When they had put a little\nmore than half the distance behind them, they came to the isle of\nChryse, where were a fair temple and altars built in honor of Athene.\nHere many of the heroes landed; and while some were busied in refilling\nthe water-casks from the springs of fresh water near the shore, others\nwent up to the temple and offered gifts and heartfelt thanks to Pallas\nAthene.  But as Philoctetes, the cunning archer, stood near one of the\naltars, a water-snake came out of the rocks and bit him on the foot.\nTerrible, indeed, was the wound, and great were the hero's sufferings;\nday and night he groaned and cried aloud by reason of the bitter pain;\nand there was no physician that could heal him of the grievous hurt. In\na few days, a noisome stench began to issue from the wound, and the\nhero's complainings waxed so loud and piteous that the warriors stopped\ntheir ears, so that they might not hear them.  Then the chiefs took\ncounsel as to what it were best to do with him; and, although some\nadvised that he be cast into the sea, it was thought best to follow a\nmilder course, and leave him alone on the isle of Lemnos.  Hence, while\nthe hero slept, Odysseus and his men carried him on shore; and they laid\nhis great bow, even the bow of Heracles, by his side upon the sand, and\nput a cask of water and a basket of food within easy reach of his hand.\nThen they sailed away, and left him alone in his great distress and\nsorrow.\n\nAt length the shores of Ilios were reached, and the high towers of Troy\nwere seen.  Then the sails of the vessels were furled and laid away in\nthe roomy holds, the masts were lowered with speed, and the oarsmen\nseated themselves upon the benches and rowed the ships forward until\nthey stood in one line, stretching more than a league along the shore.\nBut as they drew nearer the sea-beach, the heroes saw all the plain\nbefore them covered with armed men and horses and chariots drawn up to\nhinder their landing.  And they paused, uncertain what to do; for\nCalchas the soothsayer had declared that he who should first step foot\nupon the shores of Ilios should meet a sudden death.\n\n\"Who among all the heroes will dare be the first to die for Hellas?\" was\nthe anxious question heard on every vessel.  Not a man was there who was\nnot willing and ready to be the second one to step on shore; but who\nwould be the first?  The Trojan host now began to shoot their arrows\ntoward the ships, and to taunt the Hellenes with cowardice.  Yet even\nAchilles and Ajax Telamon, the mightiest of the heroes, fell back and\nwould not take the fearful risk of beginning the fight.  Then\nProtesilaus, who had led forty black ships from Phylace and the shore of\nAntrona, seeing that some one must die for the cause, leaped boldly out\nof the ship upon the shelving beach. At once a hundred arrows whistled\nthrough the air, and glanced from his sevenfold shield of ox-hide; and a\nheavy spear, thrown by Hector, the mightiest of the Trojans, pierced his\nfair armor, and laid him bleeding and dead upon the sand.  Quickly the\nwarriors leaped ashore; face to face and hand to hand they fought with\nthe Trojan host; and, led by Achilles and by Diomede of the loud\nwar-cry, they drove their foes across the plain and even through the\ncity gates.\n\nBut Protesilaus lay dead upon the beach; and few of the heroes\nremembered that to him they owed their victory.  And when his\nnewly-wedded wife, fair Laodamia, heard in far Phylace that he had\nfallen first in the fight, she dight herself in mourning and went to\npray at the shrine of mighty Zeus.  And the prayer which she offered was\nthat she might see her husband once again, and holding his hand, might\ntalk with him if it were only for the space of three hours.  Then Hermes\nled the war-loving hero back to the upper world; and he sat in his\nbridal chamber, and spoke sweet words of comfort to Laodamia.  But when\nthe short hours were past, and the messenger came to lead Protesilaus\nback to the land of shades, his wife prayed that she might return with\nhim.  And men say that this prayer, also, was heard, and that arm in arm\nthe two went forth together to their shadowy home in Hades.\n\nTime would fail me to tell you how the Greeks encamped upon the plain of\nTroy, and how for more than nine long years they laid siege to that\ngreat city. Neither can I speak of the ruinous wrath of Achilles which\nbrought so much woe upon the Hellenes; for of that you will read in the\noldest and grandest poem that the world has ever known,--the Iliad of\nHomer.  And there, also, you will read of the death of Patroclus; and of\nthe vengeance which Achilles wrought, even by the slaying of godlike\nHector; and of the mighty deeds of Diomede and of Ajax and of Agamemnon\non the plains of Troy; and of the shrewd counsels and crafty schemes of\nOdysseus, who, though in strength surpassing other men, learned to trust\nrather to his skill in words than to his mastery of arms.\n\nThe time at length drew near when that which had been spoken concerning\nthe doom of Achilles was to be fulfilled.  For, when he saw that he,\nmore than all the Hellenes, was held in dread by the Trojans, his heart\nwas puffed up with unseemly pride, and he boasted of his deeds, and\nspoke of himself as greater even than Phoebus Apollo.  Then the\narcher-god was greatly angered, and no longer covered him with his great\nshield of protection, but left him to his doom.  Hence, on a day, when\nhe stood before the Scaean gate, and taunted the Trojans on the walls, a\nmighty spear smote him, and pierced his heart.  Some say that the weapon\nwas thrown by Paris, the perfidious one who had caused this bloody war;\nand others say that far-darting Apollo in his wrath launched the fatal\nbolt.  The body of Achilles incased in his glorious armor lay all day\nlong in the dust, while Hellenes and Trojans fought around it, and\nneither could gain the mastery, or carry away the ghastly prize.  At\nlength a great storm burst upon the combatants: the thunder rolled, the\nlightning flashed, the rain and hail fell in blinding torrents; and the\nTrojans withdrew behind their walls.  Then the Hellenes lifted the body\nof Achilles, and carried it to their ships; and, stripping it of his\nmatchless armor, they laid it on a couch, and standing around it, they\nbewailed his untimely death.  And his mother, silver-footed Thetis, came\nacross the waves with all the sea-nymphs in her train; and, while she\nwept over the body of her child, the nymphs arrayed it in shining robes\nwhich they themselves had woven in their coral caves.  Then, after many\ndays and nights of bitter lamentation, the Hellenes built a great\nfuneral pile upon the beach; and they laid the hero thereon, and set\nfire to it, and the flames leaped high over the sea, and Achilles was no\nmore.  Then Thetis took the hero's glorious armor, and set it up as a\nprize to that one who should excel in feats of strength and skill in a\ngrand trial to be made beside the ships.  Only two of all the host stood\nup for the trial,--Ajax Telamon and Odysseus; for no other man dared\ncontend with either of these.  Mighty indeed was the contest; but in the\nend Odysseus prevailed, and the matchless armor was awarded him.  Then,\nwhen Ajax knew that he had been beaten in the suit,--and beaten not more\nby honest strength and skill than by crafty guile,--he fell prone upon\nthe earth, and his great mind lost its balance.  And when he arose to\nhis feet, he knew no longer his friends and comrades, nor did he\nremember any thing.  But like a roaring wild beast, he rushed from the\ntents into the fields and pasture lands; and, seeing a flock of sheep\nbrowsing among the herbage, he fell upon them with his sword, and\nslaughtered great numbers of them, fancying that they were foemen\nseeking his life.  Nor did any man dare say any thing to him, or try in\nany way to check him, or turn him aside from his mad freaks.  When he\ngrew tired, at length, of slaughtering the helpless beasts, he went down\ninto a green dell, and fell upon his own sword.  A great stream of blood\ngushed from the wound, and dyed the earth, and from it sprang a purple\nflower bearing upon its edges both the initials of his name and a sign\nof woe, the letters [Greek: ai].\n\nThen Odysseus bewailed his comrade's unhappy death.  \"Would that I had\nnever prevailed, and won that prize!\" he cried.  \"So goodly a head hath\nthe earth closed over for the sake of these arms, even that of Ajax, who\nin beauty and in feats of war was of a mould far above all other men,\nsave only peerless Achilles.  What a tower of strength wert thou!  Long\nindeed shall it be ere Hellas shall see another like thee!\"[1]\n\n\n[1] See Note 16 at the end of this volume.\n\n\nAfter this the Hellenes began to despair; for many of their noblest\nheroes had perished.  Who now should lead them on to victory?  Surely\nnot Patroclus, nor Achilles, nor Ajax.  Bitter murmurings were heard\namong the ships, and the men declared that ere another moon should pass,\nthey would embark and sail back to their loved homes, nor ask the leave\nof Agamemnon.\n\nAt the foot of Mount Ida there stood a temple of Apollo, built by the\nTrojans while yet sweet Peace was smiling on the land.  To that temple\nHelenus the wise soothsayer, one of Priam's sons, was wont to go,\nstealing out from the city in the darkness of midnight, and returning\nere the gray dawn of morning appeared.  He went there that he might\nlearn from Apollo the secrets of the future, and he fondly hoped that\nhis going was unknown to the foes of Troy.  But shrewd Odysseus found\nhim out; and one night, with a band of men, he lay in wait for the\nprophet-prince, and took him captive.\n\n\"This is a rich treasure that we have taken,\" said Odysseus, \"and it\nshall repay us for all our losses.\"\n\nHelenus was straightway taken to the camp.  Around him gathered the\nheroes,--Agamemnon, Nestor, Menelaus, and all the rest,--demanding that\nhe should uncover the secrets of the future.\n\n\"When and how shall the Hellenes overcome your city of Troy?\" said\nOdysseus.  \"Tell us this, and tell us truly, or death in its fearfullest\nform shall come upon thee swiftly.\"\n\nThen the trembling seer revealed to his enemies that which he had\nlearned at Apollo's shrine.  He told them that within the present year\nthe Hellenes would certainly prevail if only they did three things,\nwithout which Troy could never be taken.  First, the Palladion, the\nmonster image of Athene, must be removed from the temple in the city,\nand set up in the camp by the seashore.  Second, young Pyrrhus the son\nof Achilles must be brought from his island-home of Scyros to take the\nplace of his father at the head of the Myrmidon host.  And third,\nPhiloctetes, who had been so deeply wronged by the chiefs, and left to\nperish on the desert shores of Lemnos, must be found and brought to\nTroy, and healed of his grievous wound.\n\n\"These are great tasks and heavy,\" said Odysseus. \"Nevertheless I will\nundertake to see them performed.\"\n\nThen he ordered a swift ship to be made ready; and with old Phoinix as\ncompanion, and a score of trusted fighting-men, he went on board, and\nsailed at once for Scyros the quondam home of great Achilles.  Ten days\nafterward he returned, bringing with him the lad Pyrrhus, so like his\nglorious father in face and figure that the Myrmidons hailed him at once\nas their chief and king.\n\n\"Thus have I done one of the three tasks,\" said Odysseus.  \"I shall\nperform the other two, mayhap as easily, and then the high walls of Troy\nshall fall before us.\"\n\nThree days later the swift ship of Odysseus again put to sea; and young\nPyrrhus was the hero's comrade. It was but a short voyage to Lemnos;\nand, when they reached that island, they moored their vessel in the\nsheltering cove close by the spot where, nine years before, the\nsuffering Philoctetes had been left. Odysseus concealed himself, and\nsent the young prince on shore with some of the warriors who had come\nwith them; for he rightly guessed that Philoctetes had not forgotten the\nwrong which he had suffered at his hands.\n\nPyrrhus found the hero living alone in a wretched cave with no friend\nbut the mighty bow of Heracles, and suffering still great torments from\nthe horrid wound in his foot.  Yet the prince could not prevail upon him\nto sail to Troy; for he said that he would rather endure the distress,\nthe hunger, and the loneliness which were his in Lemnos, than meet again\nthose false friends who had left him there to die.  Then Odysseus came\nforth from his hiding-place, with a company of men, to seize the hero\nand carry him by force on board the vessel.  But this the young prince\nwould not permit; and Philoctetes, when he saw them, fled into the\ninnermost parts of his cave, and would not come forth.  When Odysseus\nfound that neither threats nor entreaties would prevail upon the hero,\nhe went back to his ship, and made ready to return to Troy.  Then it was\nthat a vision appeared to Philoctetes,--a vision of mighty Heracles\nclothed in bright raiment, and a great glory shining in his face.\n\n\"Go thou to the land of Ilios,\" said the vision. \"There thou shalt first\nbe healed of thy grievous sickness; and afterwards thou shalt do great\ndeeds, and shalt aid in taking the city; and the first prize of valor\nshall be awarded to thee among all the heroes.  For it is the will of\nthe immortals that Troy shall be taken, and that my bow shall mightily\naid in its overthrow.\"\n\nThen Philoctetes went forth from his hiding-place, and was taken on\nboard the vessel.  And as the sails were spread, and the breezes wafted\nthem towards the Trojan shore, he bade a tearful farewell to Lemnos,\nwhere he had spent so many years of loneliness and sorrow:--\n\n\"Farewell to thee, O home that didst befriend me when others failed!\nFarewell, ye nymphs that haunt the meadows and the shore, or dwell\nbeside the gushing mountain springs.  Farewell, O cave that oft hast\nbeen my shelter from the winter's frosty winds and the sweltering rays\nof the summer's sun.  I leave you now; and thou, O sea-girt Lemnos, I\nmay never more behold!  And grant, ye gods, that favoring winds may\nblow, and carry me safely wheresoe'er the Fates would have me go!\"\n\nAs soon as the heroes reached the Trojan shore, and the ship was drawn\nto its place high on the beach, Philoctetes was carried to the tents,\nand given in charge of Machaon, Asclepius' noble son.  And as he lay\nupon a cot in the tent of the kind physician, a sweet odor, like that of\nblossoming orchards and the bloom of clover, filled the air around him,\nand he slept; and men said that the spirit of Asclepius had fanned him\ninto slumber.  Then Machaon, with matchless skill, cut out the poisoned\nflesh from his foot, and cleansed it, and bound it up with soft linen.\nAnd when the hero awoke, the pain had left him; and the wound from which\nhe had suffered such untold torments began at once to heal.\n\nIt chanced one day as Philoctetes was sitting outside of his tent, that\na party of Trojans led by Paris made a sally from the city gates, and\ncame scouring across the plain, intent on doing mischief to the\nHellenes.  As the daring warriors drew near the tents, Philoctetes\nfitted an arrow to the great bow of Heracles, and took aim at their\nfair-faced leader.  The deadly dart pierced the shoulder of Paris, and\nhe fell headlong from his chariot; and there he would have met his\ndeath, had not his comrades quickly rallied, and carried him, faint with\npain, back to the city and his father's halls.  Terrible were the\ntortures which the hero suffered, for the arrow was one of those which\nHeracles had poisoned by dipping in the blood of the hydra.  The venom\nsped through his burning veins; his strength failed him; the torments of\na thousand deaths seemed to be upon him.  Then he forgot fair Helen, for\nwhose sake was all this war and bloodshed; and he bethought him of\ngentle OEnone, whom, in the innocent days of youth, he had wooed and won\nin the pleasant dales of Ida. And he cried aloud, \"Bring to me OEnone,\nher whom I have so grievously wronged!  She alone can heal me of my\nhurt!\"\n\nThen swift messengers were sent to the woody slopes of Ida, to find, if\nit might be, the long-deserted, long-forgotten wife.  \"Come quickly and\nsave thy erring but repentant husband,\"--such was the message,--\"behold,\nhe suffers from a grievous wound!  But thou art skilled in the healing\nart above all who dwell in Ilios; and he prays that, forgiving all\nwrong, thou wilt hasten to help him.\"\n\nWhen OEnone heard the message, she remembered the cruel wrongs which she\nhad endured so long at the hands of faithless Paris; and without a word\nin answer, she turned away and went about her daily tasks in her humble\ncottage home.  Then the messengers returned to Troy, and told the prince\nthat OEnone would not come to help him.  And Paris, with a groan of pain\nand a sigh of despair, turned his face to the wall, and died.\n\nThen OEnone, too late, repented that she had turned a deaf ear to her\nhusband's last request.  And in haste she clad herself in her wedding\nrobes, and came to the sad halls of the prince, not knowing that death\nhad taken him.  Fair and beautiful as in the days of her youth, she\nstood before his lifeless form.  She took his cold hands in her warm\npalm, and said, \"I have come, O Paris!  Waken, and speak to me!  Dost\nthou not remember me,--OEnone, whom thou didst woo in the flowery dells\nof Ida?  I am still the same, and never have I wronged thee.  Speak to\nme, O Paris!\"  Then she knelt beside him, and saw the gaping wound which\nthe arrow of Philoctetes had made; and she knew that life had fled, and\nthat the hero never more would waken or speak to her.  And the gentle\nheart of OEnone was broken with the anguish which came upon her; and\nwhen the men of Troy laid Paris upon the funeral pile, and the smoke and\nflame arose towards heaven, the fair, perfidious prince was not alone,\nfor OEnone shared his blazing couch.\n\nWhile Troy was in mourning for the unhappy death of Paris, Odysseus and\nDiomede were planning the means by which to obtain the sacred image of\nAthene--the Palladion of Troy.  In the guise of a ragged beggar,\nOdysseus found his way into the city, and to the door of the temple\nwhere the great image stood.\n\n\"Ah, Odysseus!  I know thee despite thy rags!\" was whispered into his\near, as a fair hand offered him a pittance.  He looked up, and saw the\npeerless Helen before him, as beautiful as when, a score of years\nbefore, the princes of Hellas had sued for her hand at the court of old\nTyndareus.\n\n\"Be not afraid,\" she said, \"I will not betray you.\"\n\nAnd then she told him how unhappy she had been in Troy, and how she\nlonged to return to her countrymen and to her much-wronged husband\nMenelaus.  And she promised to aid him in whatever way she could, to\ncarry off the treasured Palladion, and to open the way for the overthrow\nof Troy.  Odysseus, shrewdest of men, talked not long with the princess,\nbut soon returned to the camp.  Three nights later, he and Diomede made\ntheir way by stealth into the city, and carried away the priceless\nPalladion.\n\nAnd now the three tasks which Helenus had spoken of, had been performed.\nWhat more remained ere the doomed city should be overthrown?  The chiefs\nmust needs again consult with shrewd Odysseus; and the plan which he\nproposed was carried out.  A wooden horse, of wondrous size, was made;\nand in it the doughtiest heroes of the host, with young Pyrrhus as their\nleader, hid themselves.  Then the rest of the Hellenes embarked, with\nall their goods, aboard their ships, and sailed away beyond the wooded\nshores of Tenedos. But the monster horse, with its hidden load of\nheroes, stood alone upon the beach.\n\nWhen the Trojans, looking from their high towers, beheld their enemies\ndepart, they were filled with joy; and, opening wide their gates, they\npoured out of the city, and crowded across the plain, anxious to see the\nwonderful horse,--the only relic which their foes had left upon their\nshores.  While they were gazing upon it, and hazarding many a guess at\nits purpose and use, a prisoner was brought before the chiefs.  It was\nSinon, a young Hellene, who had been found lurking among the rocks by\nthe shore.  Trembling with pretended fear, he told the Trojans a sad,\nfalse story, of wrongs which he said he had suffered at the hands of\nOdysseus.\n\n\"But what meaneth this monster image of a horse? Tell us that,\" said the\nTrojan chiefs.\n\nThen Sinon told them how the Hellenes had suffered great punishment at\nthe hands of Athene, because they had stolen the sacred Palladion of\nTroy, and how it was on this account that they had at last given up the\nsiege of Troy, and had sailed away for their homes in distant Hellas.\nAnd he told them, too, of the words of Calchas the soothsayer; that they\nshould leave on the shores of Ilios an image which should serve the same\npurpose to those who honored it, as the sacred Palladion had served\nwithin the walls of Troy; and that if the Trojans should revere this\nfigure, and set it up within their walls, it would prove a tower of\nstrength to them, insuring eternal greatness to Troy, and utter\ndestruction to Hellas.\n\nNeed I tell you how this artful story deceived the Trojans, and how with\nshouts of triumph they dragged the great image into the city?  Need I\ntell you how, in the darkness of the night, the fleet returned from\nTenedos, and the mighty host again landed upon the Trojan shore; or how\nthe heroes, concealed within the wooden horse, came out of their\nhiding-place, and opened the gates to their friends outside; or how the\nHellenes fell upon the astonished Trojans, awakened so suddenly from a\nfalse dream of peace; or how, with sword and torch, they slew and\nburned, and meted out the doom of the fated city?  It was thus that the\nprinces of Hellas performed the oath which they had sworn, years and\nyears before, in the halls of King Tyndareus; and it was thus that the\nwrongs of Menelaus were avenged, fair Helen was given back to her\nhusband, and the honor of Hellas was freed from blemish.\n\n\n\n\n                           *THE AFTER WORD.*\n\n\nAnd now, if you would learn more concerning the great heroes of the\nGolden Age, you must read the noble poems in which the story of their\ndeeds is told. In the Iliad of Homer, truly the grandest of all poems\nwritten by men, you will read of what befell the Greeks before the walls\nof Troy,--of the daring of Diomede; of the wisdom of Nestor; of the\nshrewdness of Odysseus; of the foolish pride of Agamemnon; of the\nnobility of Hector; of the grief of old King Priam; of the courage of\nAchilles.  In the AEneid of Virgil, you will read of the last day of the\nlong siege, and the fatal folly of the Trojans; of crafty Sinon; of the\nsad end of Laocoon, who dared suspect the object of the wooden horse; of\nthe destruction of the mighty city; and of the wanderings of AEneas and\nthe remnant of the Trojans until they had founded a new city on the far\nLavinian shore.  In the tragedies of AEschylus, you will read of the\nreturn of the heroes to Greece; of the sad death of Agamemnon in his own\ngreat banquet-hall; of the wicked career of Clytemnestra; of the\nterrible vengeance of Orestes; of what befell Iphigenia in Tauris, and\nhow she returned to her native land.  And in the Odyssey of Homer,\nsecond only to the Iliad in grandeur, you will read of the strange\nadventures of Odysseus; how he, storm-tossed and wind-driven, strove for\nten weary years to return to Ithaca; how, after the fall of Troy,--\n\n\"He overcame the people of Ciconia; how he passed thence to the rich\nfields of the race who feed upon the lotus; what the Cyclops did, and\nhow upon the Cyclops he avenged the death of his brave comrades, whom\nthe wretch had piteously slaughtered and devoured; and how he came to\nAEolus, and found a friendly welcome, and was sent by him upon his\nvoyage; yet 'twas not his fate to reach his native land; a tempest\ncaught his fleet, and far across the fishy deep bore him away, lamenting\nbitterly.  And how he landed at Telepylus, among the Laestrigonians, who\ndestroyed his ships and warlike comrades, he alone in his black ship\nescaping.\" ...\n\nYou will read, too, of how he was driven to land upon the coast where\nCirce the sorceress dwelt, and how he shrewdly dealt with her deceit and\nmany arts:--\n\n\"And how he went to Hades' dismal realm in his good galley, to consult\nthe soul of him of Thebes, Tiresias, and beheld all his lost comrades\nand his mother,--her who brought him forth, and trained him when a\nchild; and how he heard the Sirens afterward, and how he came upon the\nwandering rocks, the terrible Charybdis, and the crags of Scylla,--which\nno man had ever passed in safety; how his comrades slew for food the\noxen of the Sun; how mighty Zeus, the Thunderer, with a bolt of fire\nfrom heaven smote his swift bark; and how, his gallant crew all\nperished, he alone escaped with life.  And how he reached Ogygia's isle,\nand met the nymph Calypso, who long time detained and fed him in her\nvaulted grot, and promised that he ne'er should die, nor know decay of\nage, through all the days to come; yet moved she not the purpose of his\nheart. And how he next through many hardships came to the Phaeacians,\nand they welcomed him and honored him as if he were a god, and to his\nnative country in a bark sent him with ample gifts of brass and gold and\nraiment.\"\n\nHow he made himself known to old Eumaeus the swineherd, and to his son\nTelemachus, and how his old nurse, Eurycleia, knew him by the scar which\nhe had received when a boy from the wild boar on Mount Parnassus.  How\nhe found his palace full of rude suitors seeking the hand of faithful\nPenelope; and how, with the great bow of Eurytus, he slew them all, and\nspared not one.\n\n      ... \"Never shall the fame\n    Of his great valor perish; and the gods\n    Themselves shall frame, for those who dwell on earth,\n    Sweet strains in praise of sage Penelope.\"\n\n\n\n\n                                *NOTES.*\n\n\n              NOTE 1.--ODYSSEUS AND HIS NURSE.  _Page_ 12.\n\nIn the Odyssey, Book I., lines 425-444, a similar incident is related\nconcerning Telemachus and Eurycleia.  Many of the illustrations of life\nand manners given in this volume have been taken, with slight changes,\nfrom Homer.  It has not been thought necessary to make distinct mention\nof such passages.  The student of Homer will readily recognize them.\n\n\n              NOTE 2.--APOLLO AND THE PYTHON.  _Page_ 43.\n\nReaders of the \"Story of Siegfried\" cannot fail to notice the\nresemblance of the legends relating to that hero, to some of the myths\nof Apollo.  Siegfried, like Apollo, was the bright being whose presence\ndispelled the mists and the gloom of darkness. He dwelt for a time in a\nmysterious but blessed region far to the north.  He was beneficent and\nkind to his friends, terrible to his foes.  Apollo's favorite weapons\nwere his silver bow and silent arrows; Siegfried's main dependence was\nin his sun-bright armor and his wonderful sword Balmung.  Apollo slew\nthe Python, and left it lying to enrich the earth; Siegfried slew Fafnir\nthe dragon, and seized its treasures for his own.--See _The Story of\nSiegfried_.\n\n\n                     NOTE 3.--SISYPHUS.  _Page_ 50.\n\n\"Yea, and I beheld Sisyphus in strong torment, grasping a monstrous\nstone with both his hands.  He was pressing thereat with hands and feet,\nand trying to roll the stone upward toward the brow of the hill.  But\noft as he was about to hurl it over the top, the weight would drive him\nback: so once again to the plain rolled the stone, the shameless thing.\nAnd he once more kept heaving and straining; and the sweat the while was\npouring down his limbs, and the dust rose upwards from his\nhead.\"--_Homer's Odyssey_, XI. 595.\n\n\n                 NOTE 4.--A SON OF HERMES.  _Page_ 50.\n\nAutolycus was said to have been a son of Hermes, doubtless on account of\nhis shrewdness and his reputation for thievery.  Hermes is sometimes\nspoken of as the god of thieves.\n\n\n              NOTE 5.--THE CHOICE OF HERACLES.  _Page_ 61.\n\nThis moral lesson is, of course, of much later date than that of our\nstory.  It is the invention of the Greek sophist Prodicus, who was a\ncontemporary of Socrates.\n\n\n                     NOTE 6.--MELEAGER.  _Page_ 68.\n\nReaders of the \"Story of Roland\" will readily recognize several points\nof resemblance between the legend of Meleager's childhood and the story\nof Ogier the Dane.  It is, indeed, probable that very much of the latter\nis simply a medieval adaptation of the former.--See also the account of\nthe three Norns in _The Story of Siegfried_.\n\n\n              NOTE 7.--THE DEATH OF ASCLEPIUS.  _Page_ 91.\n\nThe story of Balder, as related in the Norse mythology, has many points\nof resemblance to that of Asclepius.  Balder, although a being of a\nhigher grade than Asclepius, was the friend and benefactor of mankind.\nHe was slain through the jealousy of the evil one: his death was\nbewailed by all living beings, birds, beasts, trees, and plants.--See\n_The Story of Siegfried_.\n\n\n                NOTE 8.--PARIS AND OENONE.  _Page_ 109.\n\nA very beautiful version of this story is to be found in Tennyson's poem\nentitled \"OEnone.\"  It will well repay reading.\n\n\n              NOTE 9.--THE SWINEHERD'S STORY.  _Page_ 119.\n\nThis story was afterwards related to Odysseus under very different\ncircumstances.  The curious reader is referred to the Odyssey, Book XV.,\n390-485.\n\n\n                    NOTE 10.--PRAYERS.  _Page_ 129.\n\n    \"The gods themselves are placable, though far\n    Above us all in honor and in power\n    And virtue.  We propitiate them with vows,\n    Incense, libations, and burnt-offerings,\n    And prayers for those who have offended.  Prayers\n    Are daughters of almighty Jupiter,--\n    Lame, wrinkled, and squint-eyed,--that painfully\n    Follow Misfortune's steps; but strong of limb\n    And swift of foot Misfortune is, and, far\n    Outstripping all, comes first to every land,\n    And there wreaks evil on mankind, which Prayers\n    Do afterwards redress.  Whoe'er receives\n    Jove's daughters reverently when they approach,\n    Him willingly they aid, and to his suit\n    They listen.  Whosoever puts them by\n    With obstinate denial, they appeal\n    To Jove, the son of Saturn, and entreat\n    That he will cause Misfortune to attend\n    The offender's way in life, that he in turn\n    May suffer evil, and be punished thus.\"\n      _The Iliad_ (BRYANT'S Translation), IX. 618-636.\n\nA sacrifice to Poseidon similar to that described here is spoken of in\nthe Odyssey, III. 30-60.\n\n\n             NOTE 11.--THE LABORS OF HERACLES.  _Page_ 140.\n\nIt seems to have been one of the unexplainable decrees of fate that\nHeracles should serve Eurystheus twelve years, and that at his bidding\nhe should perform the most difficult undertakings. The account of the\ntwelve labors of Heracles, undertaken by command of his master, belongs\nto a later age than that of Homer, The twelve labors were as follows:--\n\n    1. The fight with the Nemean lion.\n    2. The fight with the Lernaean hydra.\n    3. Capture of the Arcadian stag.\n    4. Destruction of the Erymanthian boar.\n    5. Cleansing the stables of Augeas.\n    6. Putting to flight the Harpies, or Stymphalian birds.\n    7. Capture of the Cretan bull.\n    8. Capture of the mares of Thracian Diomede.\n    9. Seizure of the girdle of the queen of the Amazons.\n    10. Capture of the oxen of Geryones.\n    11. Fetching the golden apples of the Hesperides.\n    12. Bringing Cerberus from the lower world.\n\n\n                         NOTE 12.  _Page_ 151.\n\nThe description of the palace of Tyndareus given here has many points of\nresemblance to the description of the palace of Alcinous.--See\n_Odyssey_, VII. 85.\n\n\n           NOTE 13.  THE VENGEANCE OF ODYSSEUS.  _Page_ 224.\n\nPalamedes, according to the ancient story, went to Troy with the heroes,\nwhere he distinguished himself by his wisdom and courage.  But Odysseus,\nwho could never forgive him, caused a captive Phrygian to write to\nPalamedes a letter in the name of Priam, and bribed a servant of\nPalamedes to conceal the letter under his master's bed.  He then accused\nPalamedes of treachery. Upon searching the tent, the letter was found,\nand Palamedes was stoned to death.  When Palamedes was led to death, he\nexclaimed, \"Truth, I lament thee, for thou hast died even before me!\"\nThere are other stories as to the manner of the death of Palamedes.\nSome say that Odysseus and Diomede induced him to descend into a well,\nwhere they pretended they had discovered a treasure; and when he was\nbelow, they cast stones upon him, and killed him. Others state that he\nwas drowned by them while fishing; and others that he was killed by\nParis with an arrow.--See _Smith's Classical Dictionary_.\n\n\n            NOTE 14.--THE GARDEN OF LYCOMEDES.  _Page_ 230.\n\nThe curious reader may find in the description of the garden of Alcinous\n(Odyssey, VII. 85, _et seq._) some resemblance to the description here\ngiven of the garden of Lycomedes.\n\n\n              NOTE 15.--THE CASKETS OF ZEUS.  _Page_ 233.\n\n      \"Beside Jove's threshold stand\n    Two casks of gifts for man.  One cask contains\n    The evil, one the good; and he to whom\n    The Thunderer gives them mingled sometimes falls\n    Into misfortune, and is sometimes crowned\n    With blessings.  But the man to whom he gives\n    The evil only stands a mark exposed\n    To wring, and, chased by grim calamity,\n    Wanders the teeming earth, alike unloved\n    By gods and men.\"--_The Iliad_, XXIV. 663-672,\n\n\n                 NOTE 16.--DEATH OF AJAX.  _Page_ 258.\n\n\"The soul of Ajax, son of Telawon, alone stood apart, being still angry\nfor the victory wherein I prevailed against him, in the suit by the\nships concerning the arms of Achilles that his lady mother had set for a\nprize; and the sons of the Trojans made award and Pallas Athene.  Would\nthat I had never prevailed and won such a prize!\"--_Odyssey_, XI.\n544-548.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Map--HELLAS, THE SHORES OF THE AEGEAN AND ILIOS.]\n\n\n\n\n                        *INDEX TO PROPER NAMES.*\n\n\n[_The figures in parentheses indicate the page or pages on which the\nname receives fullest mention._]\n\n\nAcarnania (3, 72), the most western province of Hellas.\n\nAcastus (92), son of Pelias, king of Iolcos; he was slain by Peleus.\n\nAchaia (5), the northern coast of Peloponnesus.\n\nAchilles (91, 109, 225-236, 246, 255), son of Peleus and the sea-nymph\nThetis.  The chief hero among the Hellenes.\n\nActaeon (87), a celebrated huntsman.  He was changed by Artemis into a\nstag, and torn to pieces by his own dogs.\n\nAdmetus (90, 166), king of Pherze in Thessaly.\n\nAEson (80), son of Cretheus, and father of Jason.  He was excluded from\nthe kingship of Iolcos by his half-brother Pelias.\n\nAEtolia (5), a country north of the Corinthian Gulf (Bay of Crissa), and\neast of Acarnania.\n\nAgamemnon (150, 233, 238, 251), king of Mycenae, and commander-in-chief\nof the Hellenic forces in the war against Troy.\n\nAjax Telamon, sometimes called the greater Ajax (150, 234, 257), son of\nTelamon, king of Salamis.  He was a nephew of Peleus, and hence a cousin\nof Achilles.\n\nAjax Oileus, sometimes called the lesser Ajax (151, 234), son of Oileus,\nking of the Locrians.\n\nAlcestis (166), daughter of Pelias, and wife of Admetus.\n\nAlpheus (132), a river which flows through Arcadia and Elis.\n\nAlthea (65), the mother of Meleager.\n\nAmphithea (53), grandmother of Odysseus.\n\nAmphitryon (55), the stepfather of Heracles.\n\nAnticleia (2, 219), daughter of Autolycus, and mother of Odysseus.\n\nAntilochus (131, 151), son of Nestor.\n\nAphareus (125, 187), founder of the town of Arene in Messene, and father\nof Idas and Lynceus.\n\nAphrodite (99-110, 160), goddess of love and beauty.\n\nApollo (37-46, 189, 208), son of Zeus and Leto.  He was the god of\nprophecy and of music and song, the punisher of evil, and the helper of\nmen.\n\nArcadia (5, 132), a country in the middle of the Peloponnesus.\n\nAres (223), the god of war.  _Mars_.\n\nArethusa (133), a sea-nymph.\n\nArgo (2, 89), the ship upon which Jason and his companions sailed to\nColchis.\n\nArgolis, see Argos.\n\nArgonauts (2, 67), \"the sailors of the Argo.\"\n\nArgos (2, 5), a name frequently applied by Homer to the whole of the\nPeloponnesus.  A district north of Laconia, often called Argolis.\n\nArgus (196), a monster having a hundred eyes, appointed by Here to be\nthe guardian of Io.\n\nArtemis (134, 239), daughter of Zeus and Leto, and the twin-sister of\nApollo.  She was the goddess of the chase, and the protectress of the\nyoung and helpless.  _Diana_.\n\nAsclepius (87-90), son of Apollo, and god of the healing art.\n_AEsculapius_.\n\nAtalanta (68, 162), daughter of Iasus and Clymene; the fleet-footed wife\nof Milanion.\n\nAthene (10, 14,99-105) goddess of wisdom, and \"queen of the air;\" often\ncalled Pallas Athene.  _Minerva_.\n\nAtropos (66, 98), one of the Fates.\n\nAulis (233, 239-251), a harbor in Boeotia, on the Euripus.\n\nAutolycus (48), the grandfather of Odysseus.\n\nBalios and Xanthos (97), the horses of Peleus.\n\nBoeotia, a district north of the Corinthian Gulf, bounded on the east by\nthe Euripus, and on the west by Phocis.\n\nBosphorus (197), the \"ox ford,\" the strait connecting the Sea of Marmora\nwith the Black (Euxine) Sea.\n\nCadmus (217), a Phoenician who settled in Hellas, and founded the city\nof Thebes.  He is said to have brought the alphabet from Phoenicia.\n\nCalchas (225, 241-252), the wisest soothsayer among the Hellenes.  He\ndied of grief because the soothsayer Mopsus predicted things which he\nhad not foreseen.\n\nCal{~CYRILLIC SMALL LETTER SHORT U U+045e~}don (66-76), an ancient town\nand district of AEtolia, on the Evenus River.\n\nCastor (56, 68, 146, 185), twin-brother of Polydeuces.\n\nCentaurs (84-86), an ancient race inhabiting Mount Pelion and the\nneighboring districts of Thessaly.\n\nCephallenia (183), a large island near Ithaca.\n\nCharybdis (155), a dreadful whirlpool on the side of a narrow strait\nopposite Scylla.\n\nCheiron (58, 78, 170), a Centaur, \"the wisest of men,\" and the teacher\nof the heroes.\n\nChryse (252), an island in the AEgaean Sea; also a city on the coast of\nAsia Minor, south of Troy.\n\nCirce (270), daughter of Helios, a sorceress who lived in the island of\nAEaea.\n\nCleopatra (67-76), wife of Meleager.\n\nClotho (66, 98), one of the Fates.\n\nClytemnestra (152, 242-252), daughter of Tyndareus and Leda, and sister\nof Castor and Polydeuces and Helen.  She was married to Agamemnon, and\nbecame the mother of Iphigenia and Orestes.\n\nColchis (2, 87-89), a country of Asia, at the eastern extremity of the\nBlack Sea.\n\nCopais (40), a lake in Boeotia.\n\nCorinth (5, 49, no), a city on the isthmus between the Corinthian Gulf\nand the AEgaean Sea.\n\nCorycia (51), a nymph who lived on Mount Parnassus.\n\nCrissa (5, 29), the ancient name of the Gulf of Corinth; also, the name\nof a town in Phocis.\n\nCronus (11,182), the youngest of the Titans, and the father of Zeus.\n_Saturn_.\n\nCythera (165), an island off the south-western point of Laconia.\n\nDeianeira (142, 171-181), wife of Heracles.\n\nDelos (38), the smallest of the Cyclades islands in the AEgaean Sea.\n\nDelphi (5, 30-45), a town on the southern slope of Mount Parnassus.\n\nDeucalion (200), son of Prometheus, and father of Hellen.\n\nDiomede (151, 235), son of Tydeus, and king of Argos.\n\nDodona (171, 225), an ancient oracle of Hellas, situated in Epirus in a\ngrove of oaks and beeches.\n\nEchion (61, 76), son of Autolycus.\n\nElis (125), a country on the western coast of the Peloponnesus, south of\nAchala.\n\nEpaphos (16, 198), son of Zeus and Io.\n\nEris (98), the goddess of discord.\n\nErymanthus (139), a mountain in Arcadia.\n\nEuboea, the largest island of the AEgaean Sea, separated from Boeotia by\nthe Euripus.\n\nEumaeus (114-119), the swineherd of Ithaca.\n\nEuripus (233), the narrow strait between Euboea and Boeotia.\n\nEurycleia (12), the nurse of Odysseus and of Telemachus.\n\nEurystheus (138), the master of Heracles, king of Argolis.\n\nEurytion (71, 92), king of Phthia.\n\nEurytion (85), a Centaur.\n\nEurytus (55, 136-144), king of OEchalia.\n\nEvenus (176), a river in AEtolia.\n\nGan{~CYRILLIC SMALL LETTER SHORT U U+045e~}medes (208), the most\nbeautiful of mortals, son of Tros.\n\nGlaucus (25), a fisherman who became immortal by eating of the divine\nherb which Cronus had sown.\n\nGorgons (27), three daughters of Phorcys and Ceto.\n\nGray Sisters (26), daughters of Phorcys.\n\nHades (89, 170), the god of the lower regions.  _Pluto_.\n\nHebe (98), the goddess of youth.\n\nHector (101, 255), son of Priam; the chief hero of the Trojans.\n\nHelen (145-162, 216, 267), daughter of Tyndareus and Leda of Lacedaemon,\nrepresented in mythology as the daughter of Zeus and Leda. \"The most\nbeautiful woman in the world.\"\n\nHelenus (258), son of Priam, soothsayer of the Trojans.\n\nHelios (5, 15-19), the god of the sun.  _Sol_.\n\nHellas, the name which the Greeks applied to their country.  _Greece_.\n\nHellen (203), son of Deucalion and Pyrrha, and ancestor of all the\nHellenes.\n\nHephaestus (90, 160, 193), the god of fire.  _Vulcan_.\n\nHere (99-105), the wife of Zeus.  _Juno_.\n\nHeracles (55, 87-90, 138-144, 169-181, 211-214), the most celebrated of\nall the old heroes.  _Hercules_.\n\nHermes (100-104, 196), the herald of the gods, son of Zeus and Maia.\n_Mercury_.\n\nHesione (210-213), the sister of Priam\n\nHesperia (19), \"the western land.\"\n\nHesperides (5, 27, 139), guardians of the golden apples which Earth gave\nto Here on her marriage day--said by some to be the daugters of Phorcys\nand Ceto.\n\nHippodameia (84, 167) wife of Peirithous.\n\nHyllus (176), son of Heracles.\n\nHyperboreans (6, 39), a people living in the far North.\n\nIasus (163), an Arcadian, father of Atalanta.\n\nIcarius (155, 162), brother of Tyndareus, and father of Penelope.\n\nIda (102-109, 208), a mountain-range of Mysia in Asia Minor, east of\nTroy.\n\nIdas (67, 185), \"the boaster,\" son of Aphareus, and father of Cleopatra.\n\nIdomeneus (151, 215, 235), king of Crete.\n\nIlios (206-214, 253), a name applied to the district in which Troy was\nsituated.  _Ilium_.\n\nIlus (208), son of Dardanus.\n\nInachus (196), the first king of Argos.\n\nIo (196-199), daughter of Inachus, and mother of Epaphos from whom was\ndescended Heracles.\n\nIolcos (77-110), an ancient town of Thessaly at the head of the\nPegasaean Gulf.\n\nIole (138-144, 173-181), daughter of Eurytus of OEchalia, beloved by\nHeracles.\n\nIphigenia (242-252), daughter of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra.\n\nIphitus (136-153, 172), son of Eurytus, one of the Argonauts.\n\nIthaca (1, 113), a small island in the Ionian Sea, the birthplace of\nOdysseus.\n\nJason (2, 68, 87), leader of the Argonauts.\n\nLacedaemon (5, 145-169, 189-204), a district of Laconia in which was\nsituated Sparta.  The name is also applied to the town of Sparta.\n\nLachesis (66), one of the Fates.\n\nLaconia (5, 145), a country in the south-east of Peloponnesus.\n\nLaertes (2, 182), king of Ithaca, father of Odysseus.\n\nLaodamia (254), daughter of Acastus, and wife of Protesilaus.\n\nLaomedon (208-314), king of Troy, father of Priam.\n\nLapiths (84), a people inhabiting the country adjoining Mount Pelion in\nThessaly.\n\nLeda (146), wife of Tyndareus of Lacedaemon.\n\nLemnos (253, 260), an island in the AEgaean Sea.\n\nLichas (174-179), the herald of Heracles.\n\nLinus (56), a musician, brother of Orpheus.\n\nLycomedes (228), king of Scyros.\n\nLydia (173), a district of Asia Minor.\n\nLynceus (185), son of Aphareus, brother of Idas.\n\nMachaon (151, 262), son of Asclepius, the surgeon of the Greeks in the\nTrojan war.\n\nMedea (89), daughter of AEetes, king of Colchis, celebrated for her\nskill in magic.\n\nMedusa (27), one of the Gorgons.\n\nMeleager (66-76), son of Oineus and Althea, husband of Cleopatra.\n\nMenelaus (150, 234), brother of Agamemnon, and husband of Helen.\n\nMessene (120), a country in the south-western part of the Peloponnesus.\n\nMilanion (163), the husband of Atalanta.\n\nMycenae (150), an ancient town in Argolis.\n\nMysia (239), a country in Asia Minor.\n\nNedon (131), a river of Messene.\n\nNeleus (125, 173), son of Poseidon and Tyro, brother of Pelias, and\nfather of Nestor.\n\nNessus (176), a Centaur, ferryman at the River Evenus.\n\nNestor (125, 235), king of Pylos, son of Neleus.\n\nNireus (151, 160, 235), one of the heroes of the Trojan war.\n\nOceanus (194), god of the Ocean.\n\nOdysseus, the hero of this story, son of Laertes, husband of Penelope.\n_Ulysses_.\n\nOEchalia (138, 174), a town supposed to be somewhere in Euboea.\n\nOEnone (103, 263), daughter of the river-god Cebren, and wife of Paris.\n\nOEta (171, 180), a rugged pile of mountains in the south of Thessaly.\n\nOineus (65), king of Pleuron and Calydon.\n\nOlympus (5, 79), a mountain in Thessaly, on the summit of which Zeus\nheld his court.\n\nOmphale (173), a queen of Lydia.\n\nOrestes (244), son of Agamemnon.\n\nOrpheus (248), the greatest of the old musicians.\n\nOrsilochus (129, 134), son of Alpheus, king of Messene.\n\nOrtygia (134), an island near the coast of Sicily.\n\nPalamedes (166, 217-224), son of Nauplius, king of Euboea.\n\nPallas Athene, see Athene.\n\nParis (101-110, 204-216), son of Priam of Troy.\n\nParnassus (5, 30-36, 201), a mountain, or group of mountains, a few\nmiles north of the Corinthian Gulf.\n\nPatroclus (227, 234), the friend of Achilles.\n\nPeirithous (84, 167), king of the Lapiths, son of Ixion and Dia.\n\nPeleus (71, 91-100, 227), son of AEcus and Endeis the daughter of\nCheiron.\n\nPelias (80, 125), son of Poseidon and Tyro, and brother of Neleus.  He\nmade himself king of Iolcos, by excluding his half-brother AEson from\nthe throne.\n\nPelion (79-110), a lofty mountain in Thessaly not far from Iolcos.\n\nPeloponnesus, all that part of Hellas south of the Corinthian Gulf (Bay\nof Crissa).\n\nPenelope (152, 162-168), daughter of Icarius, cousin of Helen, and wife\nof Odysseus.\n\nPerseus (27), one of the older heroes, son of Zeus and Danae.\n\nPhaeethon (15-19), son of Helios and Clymene.\n\nPhemius (3, 14), a celebrated minstrel.\n\nPherae, or Pharae (130-144), an ancient town in Messene on the river\nNedon.  Also (90), a town in Thessaly of which Admetus was king.\n\nPhiloctetes (159, 180, 252, 260-263), a friend of Heracles, and the most\ncelebrated archer in the Trojan war.\n\nPhorcys (20-27), \"the old man of the sea.\"\n\nPhthia (92), a district in the south-east of Thessaly.\n\nPolydeuces (146, 185), brother of Castor and Helen.  _Pollux_.\n\nPoseidon (22-27, 208), the god of the sea.  _Neptune_.\n\nPriam (101, 207-214), the last king of Troy, son of Laomedon, and father\nof Hector and Paris.\n\nPrometheus (191-203), a Titan, son of Iapetus, the friend of man.\n\nProtesilaus (254), a hero from Phylace in Thessaly.\n\nProteus (23), the prophetic shepherd of the sea.\n\nPylos (125-131), a town on the south-west coast of Messene.\n\nPyrrha (201), the wife of Deucalion.\n\nPyrrhus (259-262), the son of Achilles, also called Neoptolemus.\n\nPythia (34), a name applied to the priestess of Apollo at Delphi.\n\nRhadamanthus (6, 56), son of Zeus and Europa, and judge and ruler in the\nIslands of the Blest.\n\nScandia (164), a harbor in Cythera.\n\nScylla (155), a monster with six heads, which guarded one side of a\nnarrow strait.\n\nScyros (228, 259), a small island east of Euboea.\n\nSinon (265), a grandson of Autolycus, and cousin of Odysseus.\n\nSisyphus (49), son of AElus.  He is said to have built the town of\nEphyra, afterward Corinth.\n\nSparta, see Lacedaemon.\n\nStymphalus (139), a town in the north-east of Arcadia.\n\nSyma (151), a small island off the south-western coast of Caria in Asia\nMinor.\n\nSyria, or Syra (115), one of the Cyclades islands.\n\nTalthybius (250), the herald of Agamemnon.\n\nTaygetes (149, 185), a lofty range of mountains between Laconia and\nMessene.\n\nTelamon (214), son of AEacus and Endeis, and brother of Peleus, king of\nSalamis.  He was the father of Ajax by Periboea, his second wife; after\nthe death of Periboea, he married Hesione, the sister of Priam.\n\nTelemachus (219), the son of Odysseus and Penelope.\n\nTelephus (239, 241, 252), son of Heracles and Auge, and king of Mysia.\n\nTheseus (147), the great hero of Attica, and king of Athens\n\nThessaly, the largest division of Hellas.\n\nThetis (95), a sea-nymph, wife of Peleus, and mother of Achilles.\n\nTilphussa (40), a nymph dwelling at Lake Copais.\n\nTiryns (143), a city in Argolis, not far from Mycenae.\n\nTrachis (143, 171), a town of Thessaly.\n\nTrophonius (41), one of the architects of the temple at Delphi.\n\nTyndareus (146-169, 184-188), king of Lacedaemon.\n\nZacynthus (183), an island west of Messene.\n\nZeus (182, 191), son of Cronus, \"the ruler of gods and men.\"  _Jupiter_.","title":"A Story of the Golden Age","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":72199}