Book 9: The Embassy to Achilles

So the Trojans kept their watch. But the Achaeans were gripped by god-sent panic, the companion of chilling terror, and all their best men were struck with unbearable grief. Just as two winds stir up the fish-teeming sea—Boreas and Zephyrus, which blow from Thrace, sweeping down suddenly, and all at once the dark swell crests high and casts heaps of seaweed out along the surf—so the spirit was torn within the chests of the Achaeans.

The son of Atreus, struck to the heart with deep anguish, went about ordering the clear-voiced heralds to summon each man by name to the assembly, and not to shout aloud; and he himself labored among the foremost. Heavy with sorrow, they sat in the assembly, and Agamemnon stood up shedding tears like a dark-watered spring that pours its shadowy stream down the face of a sheer cliff. Groaning heavily, he spoke his words among the Argives:

"Friends, leaders and rulers of the Argives, Zeus the son of Cronus has bound me fast in heavy delusion—ruthless god, who once promised me and nodded his head in pledge that I would sack strong-walled Ilion and return home; yet now he has planned a cruel deception, and commands me to go back to Argos in disgrace, after I have lost so many men. So it must please Zeus in his overwhelming might, who has already toppled the high citadels of many cities and will topple more yet, for his power is greatest. Come then, let us all do as I say: let us flee with our ships to our dear native land, for we will no longer take wide-streeted Troy."

So he spoke, and they all fell utterly silent. For a long while the sons of the Achaeans sat mute in their grief, until at last Diomedes, strong in the war cry, spoke out among them:

"Son of Atreus, I will oppose you first for speaking so foolishly, as is right in the assembly, my lord; do not be angry. Earlier you insulted my courage before the Danaans, saying I was unwarlike and without valor; and all of this the Argives know well, both young and old. The son of crooked-scheming Cronus gave to you by halves: with the scepter he granted you to be honored above all men, but courage he did not give you, and that is the greatest power. Strange man, do you truly believe that the sons of the Achaeans are as unwarlike and without valor as you declare? If your own heart is so eager to sail home, go. The road lies open for you, and your ships stand right by the sea, all the many vessels that followed you from Mycenae. But the rest of the long-haired Achaeans will stay here until we sack Troy. And if they too wish to leave, let them flee with their ships to their dear native land; still the two of us, Sthenelus and I, will fight on until we reach the downfall of Ilion, for we came here with a god at our side."

So he spoke, and all the sons of the Achaeans shouted their acclaim, admiring the words of horse-taming Diomedes. Then the horseman Nestor rose and spoke among them:

"Son of Tydeus, in war your strength is unsurpassed, and in council you have proved the best among all men of your own age. No one among all the Achaeans will fault your speech or speak against it; yet you have not reached the end of the matter. True, you are young still—you could even be my own son, my youngest-born—yet you speak wisely to the kings of the Argives, for you have said what is fitting. Come then, I, who claim to be older than you, will speak out and go through the whole matter; and no man will scorn my words, not even lord Agamemnon. He is without clan, without law, and without hearth—the man who longs for chilling war among his own people.

"But for now, let us yield to black night and prepare our supper; and let the sentries each take their stations along the dug trench outside the wall. These orders I give to the young men; and after that, son of Atreus, take the lead yourself, for you are our most royal king. Spread a feast for the elders; it is fitting for you, not unseemly. Your shelters are full of wine that the ships of the Achaeans bring daily from Thrace across the broad sea; you have every means to host them, and you rule over many men. When many are gathered together, follow the man who offers the best counsel; and all the Achaeans sorely need sound, shrewd advice, because the enemy right near our ships are burning their many watchfires. What man could rejoice at that? This very night will either shatter our army or save it."

So he spoke, and they listened closely to him and obeyed. Out rushed the sentries in their armor, rallying around Nestor's son Thrasymedes, shepherd of the people, and around Ascalaphus and Ialmenus, sons of Ares, and around Meriones, Aphareus, and Deipyrus, and around Creon's son, noble Lycomedes. There were seven captains of the guards, and with each of them marched a hundred young warriors holding long spears in their hands. They went out and sat down midway between the trench and the wall; there they kindled a fire, and each man prepared his supper.

Meanwhile the son of Atreus led the gathered elders of the Achaeans into his shelter, and set before them a feast to satisfy their hearts. They reached out their hands to the good food spread ready before them. And when they had eaten and drunk their fill, the old man was the very first to begin weaving counsel for them—Nestor, whose advice had proved best before as well. With goodwill toward them he spoke out and addressed them:

"Son of Atreus, most glorious lord of men, Agamemnon, with you I will end and with you I will begin, because you are lord over many peoples, and Zeus has placed in your hands the scepter and the laws of judgment, so that you may take counsel for them. Therefore you above all must both speak your word and listen, and carry out another man's plan too, whenever his spirit moves him to speak for the common good; for whatever he begins will depend on you. So I will say what seems best to me. No other man will conceive a better thought than this, the one I have held both long ago and still today, ever since that day, Zeus-born king, when you went and took the girl Briseis from the shelter of raging Achilles—not at all with our approval. For I myself urged you strongly against it; yet you yielded to your proud spirit and dishonored the best of men, whom even the immortals have honored, for you seized his prize and keep it still. Yet even now, let us consider how we may make amends and persuade him with kindly gifts and gentle words."

Agamemnon, lord of men, answered him: "Old man, there is no falsehood in how you have recounted my blind folly. I lost my senses, and I do not deny it myself. Truly a single man is worth whole armies when Zeus loves him in his heart, just as now he has honored this man and broken the army of the Achaeans. But since I was blinded and gave in to my ruinous mind, I want to make amends again and give boundless compensation.

"Before you all I will name the splendid gifts: seven tripods untouched by fire, ten talents of gold, twenty gleaming cauldrons, and twelve strong, prize-winning horses that have carried off prizes with their feet. No man with as much wealth as my solid-hoofed horses have won me in prizes would be poor or short of precious gold. And I will give seven women of Lesbos, skilled in flawless handiwork—women whom I chose for myself when he himself took well-built Lesbos—who surpassed all womankind in beauty. These I will give him, and along with them the one I took away then, the daughter of Briseus; and over it all I will swear a great oath that I never went up into her bed or lay with her, as is the natural custom of humankind, between men and women.

"All these things shall be his at once. And if hereafter the gods grant that we sack the great city of Priam, let him go in when we Achaeans divide the spoils and heap his ship full of gold and bronze, and let him choose for himself twenty Trojan women, the loveliest there are after Argive Helen. And if we return to Achaean Argos, rich udder of the plowland, he could be my son-in-law, and I will honor him on a par with Orestes, my dearly cherished son, who is being raised in great abundance. I have three daughters in my solidly built hall—Chrysothemis, Laodice, and Iphianassa—and whichever of them he wishes, let him lead her home as his beloved bride without bride-price to the house of Peleus; and I will give marriage gifts with her, very many, more than any man ever yet gave with his daughter. And I will give him seven well-settled towns: Cardamyle, Enope, and grassy Hire, sacred Pherae and Antheia with its deep meadows, lovely Aepeia and vine-rich Pedasus. All of them lie near the sea, on the farthest border of sandy Pylos, and in them dwell men rich in flocks and rich in cattle, who will honor him with gifts like a god and under his scepter pay him rich dues. All this I would fulfill for him if he turns from his anger. Let him yield—Hades, to be sure, is unappeasable and unyielding, and for that reason he is the most hated of all gods to mortals—and let him submit to me, inasmuch as I am the greater king and can claim to be the elder by birth."

Then the Gerenian horseman Nestor answered him: "Son of Atreus, most glorious lord of men, Agamemnon, no one can fault the gifts you offer any longer to lord Achilles. Come then, let us dispatch chosen men to go at once to the shelter of Achilles, son of Peleus. Come, I myself will choose them, and let them obey. First of all let Phoenix, dear to Zeus, lead the way, and after him great Ajax and godlike Odysseus; and of the heralds, let Odius and Eurybates go with them. Bring water for our hands, and bid all keep holy silence, so that we may pray to Zeus, son of Cronus, in the hope that he takes pity."

So he spoke, and his words pleased them all. At once the heralds poured water over their hands, and young men filled the mixing bowls to the brim with drink and served everyone, after pouring the first drops into the cups. When they had poured libations and drunk as much as their hearts desired, they set out from the shelter of Agamemnon, son of Atreus. And the Gerenian horseman Nestor gave them many instructions, glancing earnestly at each man, and most of all at Odysseus, to try every way to persuade the noble son of Peleus. The two of them walked along the shore of the loud-surging sea, praying earnestly to the Earth-Holder, the Shaker of the Earth, that they might easily persuade the great heart of the descendant of Aeacus.

They came to the shelters and ships of the Myrmidons, and found him delighting his heart with a clear-toned lyre, beautiful and richly worked, with a silver crossbar upon it; he had taken it from the spoils when he destroyed the city of Eetion. With it he was delighting his spirit and singing the glorious deeds of men. Patroclus alone sat opposite him in silence, waiting for the descendant of Aeacus to cease from singing. The two of them came forward, with godlike Odysseus leading the way, and stood before him. Startled, Achilles sprang to his feet, lyre still in hand, leaving the seat where he had been sitting; and in the same way Patroclus too rose when he saw the men. Welcoming the two of them, swift-footed Achilles spoke: "Welcome to you both! Truly you come as dear friends—the need must be great—who even in my anger are to me the dearest of the Achaeans."

Speaking so, godlike Achilles led them further inside, and seated them on chairs and purple rugs. At once he spoke to Patroclus, who was nearby: "Set out a larger mixing bowl, son of Menoetius, mix stronger wine, and prepare a cup for each man, for the men dearest to me are beneath my roof." So he spoke, and Patroclus obeyed his dear companion. Meanwhile Achilles set down a great carving block in the firelight, and laid on it the back of a sheep and of a fat goat, and the chine of a fatted hog, rich with lard. Automedon held the meat for him, and godlike Achilles carved it; he sliced it carefully into pieces and skewered them on spits, while the son of Menoetius, a man like a god, kindled a great fire. Then, when the fire had burned down and the flames died away, Achilles spread out the embers, stretched the spits above them, and sprinkled the meat with sacred salt after lifting the spits onto the rests. When he had roasted the meat and heaped it on platters, Patroclus took bread and set it out on the table in fine baskets, while Achilles served the meat. Achilles himself sat down facing godlike Odysseus against the opposite wall, and told his companion Patroclus to sacrifice to the gods; and Patroclus cast the first-offerings into the fire. Then they reached out their hands to the good food spread ready before them. When they had eaten and drunk their fill, Ajax nodded to Phoenix; godlike Odysseus noticed, filled his cup with wine, and lifted it to greet Achilles:

"Health to you, Achilles. We do not lack a well-shared feast, either in the shelter of Agamemnon, son of Atreus, or here with you now, for there is plenty before us to satisfy the heart at table. Yet our minds are not on the pleasures of a lovely banquet. No, prince cherished by Zeus, we look upon a disaster all too great, and we are afraid. It hangs in the balance whether we save our well-benched ships or they are destroyed, unless you clothe yourself in your strength. Close by the ships and the wall, the proud Trojans and their far-famed allies have pitched their camp, kindling many watchfires throughout their host, and they say nothing will hold them back now, but they will hurl themselves upon our black ships. Zeus, son of Cronus, shows them favorable signs on the right with his lightning, and Hector, exulting fiercely in his strength, rages terribly, trusting in Zeus; he respects neither men nor gods, and a savage battle-madness has entered him. He prays now for bright Dawn to appear as soon as she can, vowing that he will hack the high stern-posts from our ships, burn the hulls themselves with ravenous fire, and slaughter the Achaeans beside them as they are driven wild by the smoke. Deep in my heart I dread that the gods may fulfill his threats, and that it may be our fate to perish here in Troy, far from horse-pasturing Argos.

"Up, then, if even at this late hour you mean to rescue the battered sons of the Achaeans from the Trojan onslaught. To you yourself it will be a grief hereafter, and once the harm is done, there is no way to find a cure; no, long before that, consider how you may ward off the day of ruin from the Danaans. My friend, surely your father Peleus gave you this charge on the day he sent you from Phthia to Agamemnon: 'My child, as for strength, Athena and Hera will grant it if they wish; what you must do is curb the proud spirit in your chest, for a generous heart is better. Break off from quarrel that contrives only mischief, so that the Argives, both young and old, may honor you all the more.' So the old man instructed you, and you have forgotten. Yet even now, stop, and let go of your heart-stinging anger. Agamemnon offers you worthy gifts if you will turn from your anger.

"Come, listen to me, and I will count out for you all the gifts Agamemnon promised you in his shelter: seven tripods untouched by fire, ten talents of gold, twenty gleaming cauldrons, and twelve strong, prize-winning horses that have carried off prizes with their feet. No man with as much wealth as Agamemnon's horses have won with their feet would be poor or short of precious gold. And he will give you seven women of Lesbos, skilled in flawless handiwork—women whom he chose for himself when you yourself took well-built Lesbos—who then surpassed all womankind in beauty. These he will give you, and along with them the one he took away then, the daughter of Briseus; and over it all he will swear a great oath that he never went up into her bed or lay with her, as is the natural custom, my lord, of men and women.

"All these things shall be yours at once. And if hereafter the gods grant that we sack the great city of Priam, you may go in when we Achaeans divide the spoils and heap your ship full of gold and bronze, and choose for yourself twenty Trojan women, the loveliest there are after Argive Helen. And if we return to Achaean Argos, rich udder of the plowland, you could be his son-in-law, and he will honor you on a par with Orestes, his dearly cherished son, who is being raised in great abundance. He has three daughters in his solidly built hall—Chrysothemis, Laodice, and Iphianassa—and whichever of them you wish, you may lead her home as your beloved bride without bride-price to the house of Peleus; and he in turn will give marriage gifts with her, very many, more than any man ever yet gave with his daughter. And he will give you seven well-settled towns: Cardamyle, Enope, and grassy Hire, sacred Pherae and Antheia with its deep meadows, lovely Aepeia and vine-rich Pedasus. All of them lie near the sea, on the farthest border of sandy Pylos, and in them dwell men rich in flocks and rich in cattle, who will honor you with gifts like a god and under your scepter pay you rich dues. All this he would fulfill for you if you turn from your anger. Yet even if the son of Atreus has grown too hateful to your heart, both the man himself and his gifts, take pity at least on all the other Achaeans who are battered throughout the camp; they will honor you like a god, for surely you would win great glory among them. Now you could kill Hector, since he would come right within your reach in his deadly battle-madness; for he claims there is no man his equal among the Danaans whom the ships carried here."

Then swift-footed Achilles answered him: "Son of Laertes, sprung from Zeus, Odysseus of many counsels, I must speak my word out bluntly and without reserve, just as I think and as it shall be brought to pass, so that you do not sit beside me murmuring from this side and that. For that man is as hateful to me as the gates of Hades who hides one thing in his heart and says another. But I will tell you how it seems best to me. Neither Agamemnon, son of Atreus, I think, will persuade me, nor will the other Danaans, since after all there was no thanks for fighting relentlessly, forever, against our enemies. An equal share goes to the man who stays behind and to the one who fights with all his might; the coward and the brave man are honored alike; the man who does nothing and the man who has done much die alike. Nothing extra lies in store for me after suffering grief in my heart, always staking my life in battle. Just as a bird brings back to her unfledged chicks whatever morsel she catches, while it goes hard with her own self, so I too have lain through many sleepless nights and fought my way through bloody days in battle, contending with warriors for the sake of their wives.

"Twelve cities of men I have sacked with my ships, and eleven on foot, I say, across the deep-soiled land of Troy. Out of all these I chose many fine treasures, and every time I brought them all and gave them to Agamemnon, son of Atreus; and he, staying behind by the swift ships, took them in, parceled out a few, and kept the bulk for himself. Other prizes of honor he gave to the champions and the kings; theirs remain safe in their keeping, while from me alone of the Achaeans he took mine away, and keeps the wife dear to my heart. Let him lie beside her and take his pleasure! Why must the Argives wage war against the Trojans? Why did the son of Atreus gather an army and lead it here? Was it not for the sake of lovely-haired Helen? Are the sons of Atreus the only mortal men who love their wives? Any man who is good and of sound mind loves his own woman and cares for her, just as I too loved her from my heart, even though she was won by my spear. Now, since he took my prize from my hands and cheated me, let him not try me—I know him too well. He will not persuade me.

"No, Odysseus, let him plan with you and the other kings how to ward off the enemy's fire from the ships. Indeed he has already labored hard at many things without me: he has built a wall, and dug a trench beside it, wide and great, and planted stakes inside it; yet not even so can he keep the strength of man-slaying Hector in check. While I was fighting among the Achaeans, Hector was never willing to rouse battle far from his wall, but came out only as far as the Scaean Gates and the oak tree. There only once did he stand his ground, and he barely escaped my onslaught. Now, since I have no wish to fight against godlike Hector, tomorrow I will offer sacrifices to Zeus and all the gods, load my ships well, and haul them down to the sea; and if you wish to look and care at all about it, at early dawn you will see my ships sailing across the fish-teeming Hellespont with my men aboard them eager to row. And if the glorious Earth-Shaker grants a fair voyage, on the third day I should reach deep-soiled Phthia.

"I have great wealth there that I left behind when I made this wretched journey here; and from here I will carry home more gold and red bronze, and women in fine sashes and gray iron—all that fell to my lot. But my prize of honor, the very man who gave it took it back again in his insulting arrogance: lord Agamemnon, son of Atreus. Tell him everything openly, just as I command you, so that the other Achaeans too may be indignant if he still hopes to cheat some other man of the Danaans, clothed as he always is in shamelessness. Yet toward me at least, dog-faced though he is, he would not dare to look me in the face. I will share no counsel with him, nor any action, for he thoroughly cheated me and wronged me. Never again shall he beguile me with words. Enough for him! Let him go to his ruin in peace, for Zeus the counselor has taken away his wits. His gifts are hateful to me, and I value him at a splinter's worth. Not even if he gave me ten times and twenty times as much as all he now possesses, and whatever more might come to him from elsewhere—not all the wealth that flows into Orchomenus, nor all that comes to Egyptian Thebes, where the greatest treasures lie stored in the houses, a city with a hundred gates through each of which two hundred men ride out with horses and chariots—not even if he gave me gifts as many as the sand and the dust, not even so could Agamemnon win over my heart any longer, until he has paid me back in full for all this heart-stinging outrage.

"And I will not marry a daughter of Agamemnon, son of Atreus, not even if she rivaled golden Aphrodite in beauty and matched bright-eyed Athena in handiwork; not even so will I marry her. Let him choose another of the Achaeans, someone who suits him and who is a greater king than I. For if the gods preserve me and I reach home, Peleus himself will surely seek out a wife for me then. There are many Achaean women throughout Hellas and Phthia, daughters of leading men who defend their cities; whichever of them I wish, I will make my beloved wife. And there my proud heart has strongly longed to wed a courted bride, a fitting wife for me, and enjoy the possessions that old Peleus won. For nothing is worth my life—not all the wealth they say Ilion possessed, that well-settled city, in the old days of peace before the sons of the Achaeans came, nor all that the stone threshold of the Archer, Phoebus Apollo, holds within it in rocky Pytho. Cattle and fat sheep can be taken by raiding, and tripods and the tawny heads of horses can be acquired; but a man's life cannot be raided to bring it back or caught again, once it has passed the barrier of his teeth.

"For my mother, the goddess silver-footed Thetis, tells me that two possible fates lead me toward death. If I stay here and fight around the city of the Trojans, my homecoming is lost, but my glory will be imperishable; whereas if I return home to my dear native land, my noble glory is lost, yet my life will endure for a long time, and death will not overtake me quickly. And I would advise the others as well to sail back home, since you will never reach the downfall of steep Ilion; for far-seeing Zeus has firmly held his own hand over it, and its people have taken courage. So go now, and declare my message plainly to the leaders of the Achaeans—for that is the privilege of elders—so that in their minds they may devise some other, better plan, one that may save their ships and the army of the Achaeans by the hollow ships, since this plan that they have now devised while I persist in my wrath will not serve them. As for Phoenix, let him stay here with us and sleep the night, so that he may follow me on my ships to our dear native land tomorrow, if he wishes; but I will not take him by force."

So he spoke, and they all fell utterly silent, struck by his words, for he had refused them with great force. At last the old charioteer Phoenix spoke among them, bursting into tears, for he was terrified for the ships of the Achaeans: "If indeed in your mind, glorious Achilles, you are pondering homecoming, and you refuse altogether to defend the swift ships against destructive fire because anger has fallen upon your heart, how then could I be left behind here alone without you, dear child? Old Peleus the charioteer sent me to go with you on the day when he sent you from Phthia to Agamemnon, still a child, knowing nothing yet of war that spares no one, nor of assemblies, where men make their mark. For that reason he sent me out to teach you all these things, to be both a speaker of words and a doer of deeds.

"So then, dear child, I would not be willing to be left behind apart from you—not even if a god himself promised to scrape away my old age and make me vigorous and young, just as I was when I first left Hellas, land of lovely women, fleeing the quarrels of my father Amyntor, son of Ormenus. He raged at me over his concubine with her lovely hair, whom he loved himself while he kept dishonoring his wedded wife, my mother. So she kept clasping my knees and begging me to lie with the concubine first, so that the woman would hate the old man. I obeyed her and did it; and my father suspected it at once and called down many curses, invoking the hateful Furies and praying that no dear son born from me would ever be set upon his knees; and the gods fulfilled his curses, Zeus of the underworld and dread Persephone.

"Then the spirit in my chest could no longer bear at all to linger in the halls while my father raged. True, my kinsmen and cousins crowded around me again and again, begging me and holding me back right there in the halls. They slaughtered many fat sheep and shambling, curve-horned cattle; many hogs rich with fat were stretched out to singe across Hephaestus's flame; and much of that old man's wine was drunk from the earthen jars. For nine nights they slept through the night right around me; they took turns keeping watch, and the fires never went out—one burning beneath the portico of the well-fenced courtyard, and another in the vestibule in front of my chamber doors. But when the tenth dark night came upon me, I broke through the tightly fitted doors of my chamber and went out, and leaped over the courtyard wall easily, unseen by the men on guard and the serving women. Then I fled far away through Hellas of the wide dancing-grounds and came to deep-soiled Phthia, mother of flocks, to lord Peleus. He welcomed me with a glad heart, and loved me just as a father loves his own son, his only, dearly cherished child, heir to great possessions; and he made me rich, and gave me a great people to rule, and I lived on the farthest border of Phthia, ruling the Dolopians.

"And I reared you to what you are, godlike Achilles, loving you from my heart; for with no one else were you ever willing to go to a feast or take food in the halls, until I myself had set you down upon my knees, cut the meat first to feed you your fill, and held the wine to your lips. Many times you soaked the tunic across my chest, spitting up wine in your troublesome infancy. So I endured very much and labored hard over you, bearing in mind that the gods were never going to grant me any child born from myself; instead, godlike Achilles, I made you my own son, so that one day you might ward off shameful ruin from me.

"Come, Achilles, tame your proud spirit; you must not keep a pitiless heart. Even the gods themselves can be turned, though their excellence, honor, and strength are greater than ours. People turn even the gods from their anger with burnt offerings and gentle vows, with poured wine and the savor of fat, pleading with them whenever someone oversteps and does wrong. For Prayers are daughters of great Zeus—halting and wrinkled, with eyes that cast sidelong glances—and they take care to walk behind Ruin. Ruin is strong and fleet of foot, and therefore she far outruns them all, getting ahead across the whole earth to do harm to mortals, while Prayers come behind to heal it. Whoever respects the daughters of Zeus when they draw near, they greatly help him and hear him when he prays; but when a man denies them and stubbornly turns them away, they go to Zeus, son of Cronus, and beg him that Ruin may follow that man, so that he is hurt and pays the price. So, Achilles, grant that the daughters of Zeus be attended by the honor that bends the minds of other noble men. For if the son of Atreus were not offering you gifts now and naming more hereafter, but were still raging in furious spite, I would not urge you to cast aside your wrath and defend the Argives, desperate though their need is. But now he offers much at once and has promised more to come, and he has sent out the best men to plead with you, chosen from the whole Achaean army, men who to you yourself are dearest of the Argives. Do not spurn their words or their coming here—though before this, no one could blame your anger.

"So too we have heard the famous stories of the men of old, the heroes, whenever furious anger came upon one of them: they could be won with gifts and talked around with words. I remember this deed of long ago—no recent thing—just how it happened; and I will tell it among you all, since you are friends. The Curetes and the battle-steadfast Aetolians were fighting around the city of Calydon and slaughtering one another, the Aetolians defending lovely Calydon, the Curetes eager to sack it in war. For gold-throned Artemis had stirred up misery among them, angered that Oeneus had made her no harvest offering on the rich slope of his orchard: the other gods feasted on hecatombs, and to the daughter of great Zeus alone he made no sacrifice. Either he forgot or he gave it no thought, and he was grievously blinded in his heart. Enraged, the archer goddess of Zeus's race roused against him a fierce, thicket-lairing wild boar with gleaming tusks, which kept coming to Oeneus's orchard and working great havoc: many tall trees it tore up and cast to the ground, roots and all, with the very blossoms of their fruit. Oeneus's son Meleager killed the beast, after gathering huntsmen and hounds from many cities; for it could never have been brought down by a few mortals, so huge it was, and many men it set upon the grievous funeral pyre. Yet over the beast—over the boar's head and its shaggy hide—the goddess stirred up a great clamor and battle-cry between the Curetes and the great-hearted Aetolians.

"So for as long as Meleager, dear to Ares, fought in the war, things went badly for the Curetes, and they could not hold their ground outside the wall, many though they were. But when anger entered Meleager—anger that swells the mind in the chest of even the wisest men—he, enraged at heart against his own mother Althaea, lay beside his wedded wife, beautiful Cleopatra. She was the daughter of graceful-ankled Marpessa, Evenus's child, and of Idas, who was the strongest of men on earth in those days and even took up his bow against the lord Phoebus Apollo for the sake of that graceful-ankled bride. In their halls, her father and honored mother used to call Cleopatra by a second name, Alcyone, because Marpessa, her mother, had shared the plight of the mournful halcyon bird, weeping when far-striking Phoebus Apollo snatched her away. Beside Cleopatra Meleager lay, nursing his heart-stinging anger, furious over the curses of his mother, who prayed to the gods in bitter grief for the killing of her brother, and again and again beat the bountiful earth with her hands, calling upon Hades and dread Persephone as she dropped to her knees, her bosom soaked with tears, to bring death to her son; and the Fury who walks in darkness heard her from Erebus with her relentless heart.

"Soon the roar and crashing of battle rose around their gates as the towers were battered. Then the elders of the Aetolians pleaded with him, sending the finest priests of the gods, to come out and defend them, promising a great gift: wherever the plain of lovely Calydon was richest, there they urged him to choose a magnificent estate of fifty ploughlands—half of it vineyard, and half open plowland carved from the plain. Earnestly the old charioteer Oeneus implored him, standing on the threshold of his high-roofed chamber and shaking the tight-fitted doors as he begged his son. Earnestly too his sisters and his honored mother pleaded with him, yet he refused all the more; and earnestly his companions pleaded, those who were most trusted and dearest to him of all men. Yet not even so could they sway the heart within his chest, until his very chamber was being battered thick and fast, and the Curetes were climbing onto the towers and setting fire to the great city. Then at last his finely sashed wife came to Meleager, begging him in tears, and recounted to him all the miseries that fall upon people whose city is taken: they kill the men, fire levels the city to ash, and strangers lead away the children and the deep-sashed women. His heart was stirred as he heard of these grim deeds, and he went out and put on his gleaming armor. So he warded off the day of ruin from the Aetolians, yielding to his own spirit; yet they no longer paid him the many lovely gifts, and he warded off the evil even so. But do not let your mind turn that way, my friend, and may no god steer you onto that path; it would be a worse thing to defend the ships when they are already burning. Come while the gifts are offered, for the Achaeans will honor you like a god. But if you enter man-destroying war without the gifts, you will no longer be held in the same honor, even though you ward off the war."

Then swift-footed Achilles answered him: "Phoenix, old father, cherished by Zeus, I have no need of that honor. I count myself honored by the decree of Zeus, which will abide with me beside the curved ships so long as breath remains in my chest and my knees have strength to move. And I will tell you something else, and take it to heart: do not trouble my spirit with weeping and sorrowing to do a favor for the warrior son of Atreus. You must not love him, lest you become hateful to me, who love you. It is right for you to stand with me and hurt the man who hurts me. Rule as king on equal terms with me, and share half my honor. These men will carry back the message, but you stay here and lie down on a soft bed; and as soon as dawn appears, we will consider whether to sail back to our own land or remain."

He spoke, and with his brows he silently nodded to Patroclus to spread a thick bed for Phoenix, so that the others would think at once of leaving his shelter. Then godlike Ajax, son of Telamon, spoke among them: "Son of Laertes, sprung from Zeus, Odysseus of many counsels, let us go; for I do not think the purpose of our speech will be accomplished on this mission, and we must report the news at once to the Danaans, grim though it is, who are no doubt sitting there now waiting for us. But Achilles has made the proud spirit within his chest savage—ruthless man—and gives no thought to the friendship of his companions, with which we honored him beside the ships above all others. Pitiless man! A man accepts blood-price even from the killer of his brother or his own son; and the killer remains right there among his own people after paying heavy compensation, while the kinsman's heart and proud spirit are restrained once he has accepted the price. Yet in your chest the gods have put an unceasing, hardened spirit for the sake of a single girl; whereas now we offer you seven of the very finest, and many other gifts besides. Put a gracious spirit in your chest, then, and respect your own roof: we are here beneath your roof, chosen from the whole host of the Danaans, and we long above all others to be the closest and dearest to you of all the Achaeans."

Then swift-footed Achilles answered him: "Ajax, sprung from Zeus, son of Telamon, commander of hosts, in all this you seem to me to have spoken much after my own heart; yet my heart swells with anger whenever I remember those things—how the son of Atreus treated me foully among the Argives, as if I were some newcomer with no standing. Go, then, and declare my message: I will not think of bloody war until the son of wise-hearted Priam, godlike Hector, comes all the way to the shelters and ships of the Myrmidons, slaughtering Argives, and chars the ships with fire. But around my own shelter and my black ship, I think Hector, eager though he is, will be held back from battle."

So he spoke, and each of them took a two-handled cup, poured a libation, and went back along the line of ships, with Odysseus leading the way. Meanwhile Patroclus ordered his companions and the serving women to spread a thick bed for Phoenix as quickly as they could. Obeying him, the women spread the bed as he commanded—fleeces, a blanket, and fine linen—and there the old man lay down and waited for bright Dawn. But Achilles slept in the innermost recess of his solidly built shelter, and beside him lay a woman he had brought from Lesbos, Phorbas's daughter, fair-cheeked Diomede. Patroclus lay down on the opposite side, and beside him too lay finely sashed Iphis, whom godlike Achilles had given him when he took steep Scyros, the city of Enyeus.

When they came to the shelters of the son of Atreus, the sons of the Achaeans rose on every side to greet them with golden cups and questioned them; and first to question them was Agamemnon, lord of men: "Come, tell me, much-praised Odysseus, great glory of the Achaeans: is he willing to ward off the enemy's fire from the ships, or did he refuse, and does anger still hold his proud spirit?" Then much-enduring, godlike Odysseus answered him: "Son of Atreus, most glorious lord of men, Agamemnon, that man has no wish to quench his anger, but is filled all the more with fury, and he spurns both you and your gifts. He tells you yourself to take counsel among the Argives how to save the ships and the army of the Achaeans; and as for himself, he threatened that as soon as dawn appears he will haul his well-benched, curved ships down to the sea. And he said he would advise the others as well to sail back home, since, as he says, you will never reach the downfall of steep Ilion; for far-seeing Zeus has firmly held his own hand over it, and its people have taken courage. So he spoke; and these men who went with me are here to tell you the same—Ajax and the two heralds, both men of good sense. As for the old man Phoenix, he lay down to sleep there, as Achilles bade him, so that he may follow him on his ships to their dear native land tomorrow, if he wishes; but he will not take him by force."

So he spoke, and they all fell utterly silent, struck by his words, for he had spoken with great force. For a long while the sons of the Achaeans sat mute in their grief, until at last Diomedes, strong in the war cry, spoke out among them: "Son of Atreus, most glorious lord of men, Agamemnon, you should never have pleaded with the noble son of Peleus or offered him countless gifts. He is proud enough even on his own, and now you have driven him far deeper into his arrogance. Still, let us leave him be, whether he goes or stays; he will fight again whenever the spirit in his chest tells him to and a god rouses him. Come then, let us all do as I say: go to sleep now, after you have refreshed your hearts with bread and wine, for in that lie strength and courage. And when fair, rosy-fingered Dawn appears, marshal the men and horses swiftly in front of the ships, urging them on, and fight among the foremost yourself."

So he spoke, and all the kings praised him, admiring the words of horse-taming Diomedes. Then they poured libations and went each to his own shelter, where they lay down and took the gift of sleep.