Book 14: The Beguiling of Zeus by Hera

Even though he was drinking, the uproar did not escape Nestor, and he spoke winged words to the son of Asclepius: "Consider, noble Machaon, how these matters will turn out; the shouting of vigorous young fighters beside the ships has grown louder. Sit where you are for now and drink the dark-gleaming wine, until Hecamede with her lovely braids heats water for a warm bath and washes away the clotted blood, while I go quickly to a vantage point and see for myself."

So he spoke, and took up the well-made shield of his own son, horse-taming Thrasymedes, which lay in the shelter blazing with bronze—for the son had his father's shield. He grasped a sturdy spear tipped with sharp bronze, stepped outside the shelter, and at once saw a shameful sight: men thrown into panic, and the high-hearted Trojans routing them from behind; and the wall of the Achaeans had been torn down.

And as when the great open sea darkens with a mute swell, foreboding the swift paths of shrill winds, yet for the moment rolls neither one way nor the other until some decisive gale sweeps down from Zeus, so the old man pondered, his mind torn two ways: whether to go into the press of the Danaans with their swift horses, or to seek out Atreus' son Agamemnon, shepherd of the people. As he turned this over, it seemed to him the better course to go to the son of Atreus. Meanwhile the men were slaughtering one another as they fought, and the unwearying bronze rang loud around their bodies while they stabbed at each other with swords and two-edged spears.

Then the Zeus-nourished kings met Nestor as they came up from the ships—all those who had been wounded by the bronze: Tydeus' son, Odysseus, and Atreus' son Agamemnon. Their ships had been hauled up far back from the fighting along the shore of the gray sea; for they had dragged the first ships up toward the plain and built the wall right behind their sterns. Broad as the beach was, it could not hold all the ships, and the troops were cramped for room; so they had hauled them up row behind tiered row, filling the whole long stretch of shore between the headlands that enclosed it. Wanting to see the outcry and the fighting, those kings came walking together, leaning on their spears, and the hearts within their chests were heavy with grief. Then the old man Nestor met them, and dismayed the hearts in the Achaeans' chests.

Lord Agamemnon raised his voice and spoke to him: "Nestor, son of Neleus, great glory of the Achaeans, why have you left the man-destroying battle and come here? I fear that mighty Hector will make good the word he once threatened when he spoke before the Trojans, that he would not return from the ships to Ilion until he had burned our ships with fire and killed us too. So he spoke then, and now all of it is coming to pass. Ah, surely the other Achaeans in fine leg armor are nursing anger against me in their hearts just like Achilles, and have no will to fight at the sterns of the ships."

Then the Gerenian horseman Nestor answered him: "All this now stands accomplished, nor could high-thundering Zeus himself fashion it otherwise. For the wall we trusted in has been torn down—the wall we thought would be an unbreakable defense for the ships and for ourselves. And the men are locked in relentless battle by the swift ships without pause; no matter how closely you looked, you could no longer tell from which side the Achaeans are being thrown into panic and driven in rout, so indiscriminately are men being killed, and the battle cry reaches heaven. Come, let us consider how these matters will turn out, if good counsel can accomplish anything. Yet I do not urge that we ourselves plunge into the fighting, for a wounded man cannot fight."

Then Agamemnon, lord of men, spoke to him again: "Nestor, since they are fighting now right at the sterns of the ships, and the wall we built has proved no help, nor the ditch either, over which the Danaans suffered so much, hoping in their hearts that it would be an unbreakable defense for the ships and for themselves—such must be the pleasure of almighty Zeus, that the Achaeans should perish here without a name, far from Argos. I knew it when he gladly defended the Danaans, and I know it now, when he glorifies the Trojans like the blessed gods, while he has bound our strength and our hands. Come then, let us all do as I say. All the ships that are drawn up in the first row near the sea—let us drag them down and launch them all into the bright salt water, and moor them afloat in deep water on their anchor stones until immortal night comes—if the Trojans will stop fighting even then—and afterward we can drag down every last ship. There is no disgrace in fleeing ruin, even by night. Better for a man to flee and escape ruin than to be caught."

Looking at him darkly from under his brows, resourceful Odysseus said: "Son of Atreus, what sort of word has slipped past the barrier of your teeth? Ruinous man! I wish you were in command of some other, worthless army, and did not rule over us, to whom Zeus from youth right down to old age has given the lot of winding out bitter wars until each of us perishes. Are you really so set on leaving the Trojans' wide-streeted city behind, for whose sake we are suffering so many hardships? Keep silent, lest some other Achaean hear this talk—words no man would ever let pass his lips who knew in his heart how to speak sensibly, who held a royal scepter, and who was obeyed by troops as numerous as the Argives over whom you rule. Right now I utterly despise your judgment for what you have said—you who tell us, while battle and the war cry are raging, to drag the well-benched ships down to the sea, so that even more the Trojans may have their wish, though they are winning already, and sheer destruction tip down upon us. For the Achaeans will not hold the line of battle while the ships are being dragged to the sea, but will keep glancing back and shrink away from the fight. Then your plan will destroy us, leader of the people."

Then Agamemnon, lord of men, answered him: "Odysseus, you have stung me deep in my heart with your harsh rebuke; yet I do not command the sons of the Achaeans to drag the well-benched ships to the sea against their will. Now if only someone could speak up with a better plan than this, whether a young man or an elder—I would welcome it gladly."

Then Diomedes, strong in the war cry, spoke among them: "The man is near; we will not have to search long, if you are willing to listen, and if none of you resents me in anger because I am the youngest by birth among you. Yet I too claim descent from a noble father, Tydeus, whom the heaped earth covers at Thebes. For three faultless sons were born to Portheus, and they lived in Pleuron and steep Calydon: Agrius and Melas, and the third was the horseman Oeneus, my father's father, who excelled them all in valor. He remained there, while my father settled in Argos after wandering in exile, for so Zeus and the other gods must have willed. He married one of Adrastus' daughters and lived in a house rich in livelihood, and he had plenty of wheat-bearing fields, with many rows of orchard trees all around, and many flocks of sheep; and he surpassed all the Achaeans with the spear—you must have heard whether this is true. Therefore you should not say that I am base by birth and a coward, or dishonor the spoken word when I advise you well. Come, let us go down to the fighting, wounded though we are, out of necessity. Once there, let us hold ourselves back from the combat out of range of the missiles, lest any of us take wound upon wound; but we will urge the others on and send them in—those who until now have stood aside to please themselves and have not been fighting."

So he spoke, and they listened readily to him and obeyed; they set out, and Agamemnon, lord of men, led the way for them. Nor did the glorious Earth-Shaker keep a blind watch, but he came among them in the likeness of an old man, took the right hand of Agamemnon, son of Atreus, and spoke to him with winged words: "Son of Atreus, right now the murderous heart of Achilles must be rejoicing inside his chest as he looks on the slaughter and rout of the Achaeans, since there is not even a scrap of sense in him. Well, let him perish so, and may a god bring him to ruin! As for you, the blessed gods are not yet utterly angry with you; no, the leaders and rulers of the Trojans will yet fill the wide plain with dust, and you yourself will see them fleeing toward the city, away from the ships and the shelters." Speaking so, he shouted aloud and rushed across the plain. As loud as nine thousand or ten thousand warriors cry out in battle when they join the clash of Ares, so great a voice did the lord who shakes the earth send forth from his chest, and he cast great strength into each Achaean's heart to war and fight without ceasing.

Now Hera of the golden throne looked out with her eyes as she stood on a peak of Olympus. At once she recognized Poseidon—her own brother and her husband's brother—bustling through the battle where men win glory, and she rejoiced in her heart. And she saw Zeus sitting on the highest peak of Ida of the many springs, and he was hateful to her heart. Then ox-eyed Queen Hera pondered how she might beguile the mind of aegis-bearing Zeus, and in her heart this plan seemed best to her: to adorn herself well and go to Ida, in hope that he might long to lie beside her body in love, and that she might pour a gentle, warm sleep over his eyelids and his shrewd mind.

She went to her chamber, which her dear son Hephaestus had built for her, fitting solid doors to the doorposts with a secret bolt that no other god could open. Going inside there, she closed the shining doors. First she used ambrosia to cleanse every stain from her lovely skin, and anointed herself richly with olive oil, ambrosial and sweet, which had been perfumed for her; when it was only stirred in the bronze-floored house of Zeus, its fragrance reached all the way to earth and heaven. With this she anointed her lovely body; then, combing her hair, with her own hands she braided the shining locks, beautiful and ambrosial, from her immortal head. Around herself she put on an ambrosial robe that Athena had woven smooth and fashioned for her, setting many intricate patterns in it, and she pinned it across her breast with clasps of gold. She belted her waist with a sash fitted with a hundred tassels, and into her finely pierced earlobes she slipped finely wrought earrings with three clustering drops, and abundant grace shone from them. Over her head the bright goddess draped a veil, beautiful and newly made, as white as the sun; and beneath her glistening feet she bound her fair sandals.

When she had set all this adornment upon her body, she stepped out from her chamber, called Aphrodite apart from the other gods, and spoke to her: "Dear child, would you grant me whatever I ask of you, or would you refuse me, angry in your heart because I help the Danaans while you help the Trojans?" Then Aphrodite, daughter of Zeus, answered her: "Hera, revered goddess, daughter of great Cronus, speak what is on your mind; my heart bids me fulfill it, if I am able to fulfill it and if it can be fulfilled."

With crafty purpose Queen Hera spoke to her: "Give me now love and desire, the power with which you subdue all the immortals and mortal men. For I am going to visit the limits of the all-nourishing earth, to see Oceanus, origin of the gods, and Mother Tethys, who reared me well and cared for me in their halls when they took me from Rhea, at the time when far-sounding Zeus cast Cronus down beneath the earth and the barren sea. I am going to visit them and resolve their endless quarrels; for a long time now they have held apart from each other, from bed and from love, since anger fell upon their hearts. If with my words I could win over their dear hearts and bring them back to their bed to be joined in love, they would always call me dear and revered."

Then laughter-loving Aphrodite answered her: "It is not possible, nor is it right, to refuse your request, for you sleep in the arms of Zeus, the greatest of all." She spoke, and from her breast unbound the embroidered strap, intricately worked, in which all her enchantments were fashioned: in it was love, in it desire, in it lovers' talk and alluring persuasion, which steals away the mind even of the wise. She put it in her hands, and spoke and called her by name: "Here now, tuck this band into the fold at your breast, this richly patterned band in which everything is fashioned. I tell you, you will not return with your purpose unfulfilled, whatever your heart desires." So she spoke, and ox-eyed Queen Hera smiled; and smiling, she tucked it away into the fold at her breast.

Then Aphrodite, daughter of Zeus, went back to her hall, while Hera darted off and left the peak of Olympus. Stepping over Pieria and lovely Emathia, she sped across the snowy mountains of the horse-herding Thracians, along their highest peaks, and her feet never touched the ground. From Athos she stepped out over the surging sea and came to Lemnos, the city of godlike Thoas. There she met Sleep, the brother of Death. She clasped his hand, and spoke and called him by name: "Sleep, lord of all gods and of all mortal men, if ever before you listened to my word, obey me now once again, and I will be grateful to you all my days. Lull to sleep for me the shining eyes of Zeus beneath his brows, as soon as I lie beside him in love. As a gift I will give you a fine throne of gold, imperishable forever; Hephaestus, my lame-footed son, will craft it with skill and set a footstool beneath it for your feet, on which you can rest your glistening feet as you feast."

Sweet Sleep answered her: "Hera, revered goddess, daughter of great Cronus, any other of the everlasting gods I could easily lull to sleep—even the streams of the river Oceanus, who is the origin of them all. But I will not come near Zeus, son of Cronus, or lull him to sleep, unless he himself commands it. For once before another command of yours taught me a lesson, on the day when that proud-hearted son of Zeus sailed from Ilion after sacking the city of the Trojans. I lulled the mind of aegis-bearing Zeus to sleep, pouring sweetly around him, while in your heart you plotted harm against his son, rousing the blasts of harsh winds over the sea, and then swept him off to well-settled Cos, far from all his friends. When Zeus woke, he raged, hurling the gods about his hall, and above all others he hunted for me. He would have cast me from the upper sky into the sea, lost from sight, if Night, tamer of gods and men, had not saved me. I fled to her, and he held back, furious though he was, for he dreaded doing anything to displease swift Night. And now once again you tell me to accomplish another impossible task."

Then ox-eyed Queen Hera answered him: "Sleep, why do you brood over such things in your heart? Do you think far-sounding Zeus will defend the Trojans as fiercely as when he raged over Heracles, his own son? Come now, and I will give you one of the younger Graces to wed and to be called your wife." So she spoke, and Sleep was delighted, and answered her: "Come then, swear to me by the inviolable water of the Styx: with one hand take hold of the bountiful earth, and with the other the gleaming sea, so that all the gods below who dwell around Cronus may be our witnesses that you will truly give me one of the younger Graces, Pasithea, whom I myself have longed for all my days." So he spoke, and the white-armed goddess Hera did not refuse. She swore as he commanded, and called by name upon all the gods down under Tartarus who are called the Titans.

When she had sworn and completed the oath, the two of them set out, leaving the towns of Lemnos and Imbros behind, wrapped in mist and speeding swiftly on their way. They came to Mount Ida of the many springs, mother of wild beasts, at Lectum, where they first left the sea; and as the two of them strode over dry land, the treetops of the forest trembled beneath their feet. There Sleep halted before the eyes of Zeus could spot him, climbing up into a towering fir tree that grew the tallest on Ida then, reaching up through the mist into the bright upper sky. There he perched, hidden thick among the fir branches, like the shrill-voiced bird that in the mountains the gods call chalcis, and mortal men cymindis.

Meanwhile Hera climbed swiftly to the summit of Gargarus, the peak of high Ida; and cloud-gathering Zeus saw her. The moment he saw her, desire wrapped around his shrewd mind, just as when the two of them first joined in love, going to bed together in secret from their dear parents. He stood before her, and spoke and called her by name: "Hera, what brings you rushing down here from Olympus? Your horses and the chariot you would ride are not here." With crafty purpose Queen Hera spoke to him: "I am going to visit the limits of the all-nourishing earth, to see Oceanus, origin of the gods, and Mother Tethys, who reared me well and cared for me in their halls. I am going to visit them and resolve their endless quarrels; for a long time now they have held apart from each other, from bed and from love, since anger fell upon their hearts. As for my horses, at the foot of Ida of the many springs they stand waiting to carry me over dry land and sea. But now I have come down here from Olympus because of you, so that you would not be angry with me later if I departed in silence for the house of deep-flowing Oceanus."

Cloud-gathering Zeus answered her: "Hera, you can always set out for that place later; come now, let the two of us go to bed and take our pleasure in love. For never before has desire for any goddess or mortal woman poured so overwhelmingly through my chest and mastered my heart—not when I desired Ixion's wife, who bore Pirithous, a counselor equal to the gods; nor when I loved fine-ankled Danae, daughter of Acrisius, who bore Perseus, preeminent among all men; nor when I loved the daughter of far-famed Phoenix, who bore me Minos and godlike Rhadamanthus; nor when I loved Semele, or Alcmene in Thebes, who bore Heracles, her fierce-hearted son, while Semele bore Dionysus, a joy to mortals; nor when I loved Queen Demeter with her lovely hair, nor glorious Leto, nor even you yourself, as I desire you now, and sweet longing seizes me."

With crafty purpose Queen Hera spoke to him: "Most dread son of Cronus, what a thing to say! If you are eager now to lie in love on the peaks of Ida, where everything lies open to view, what would happen if one of the everlasting gods saw the two of us sleeping, and went to all the gods and told them? For my part, I could never go back to your house after rising from our bed—it would be a cause for reproach. But if you truly wish it and your heart is set on this, you have a chamber that your dear son Hephaestus built for you, fitting solid doors to the doorposts. Let us go lie down there, since bed is now your pleasure."

Cloud-gathering Zeus answered her: "Hera, do not fear that any god or any man will see this; I will wrap such a golden cloud around you that not even Helios, whose sight is keenest of all, could peer through at us." So he spoke, and the son of Cronus gathered his wife in his arms. Beneath them the divine earth made fresh grass spring up, and dewy lotus, and crocus, and hyacinth, thick and soft, which lifted them high off the ground. In this bed they lay down, and drew over themselves a beautiful golden cloud, and glistening dewdrops fell from it. So the Father slept peacefully on the height of Gargarus, overcome by sleep and love, holding his wife in his arms.

Meanwhile sweet Sleep set off running to the ships of the Achaeans to bring the news to the Earth-Holder, the Shaker of the Earth. Standing close beside him, he spoke winged words: "Poseidon, help the Danaans with all your heart now, and grant them glory, if only for a little while, so long as Zeus still sleeps; for I have wrapped soft slumber around him, and Hera has tricked him into lying down in love." With those words he departed toward the famous tribes of men, and left Poseidon even more eager to defend the Danaans. At once he leaped far out among the front ranks and shouted his command: "Argives, are we once again yielding the victory to Hector, son of Priam, so that he can take the ships and win the glory? That is what he claims and boasts, because Achilles stays back by the hollow ships with anger in his heart. Yet we will not miss him so sorely, if the rest of us urge one another on to defend each other. Come then, let us all do as I say. Let us put on the finest and largest shields in the army, cover our heads with blazing helmets, take the longest spears in our hands, and go forward! I myself will lead the way, and I do not think Hector, son of Priam, will stand his ground any longer, eager as he is. And any man who is steadfast in fight but carries a small shield on his shoulder, let him give it to a lesser fighter and put on a larger shield himself."

So he spoke, and they listened readily to him and obeyed. The kings themselves marshaled the men, wounded though they were—Tydeus' son, Odysseus, and Atreus' son Agamemnon. Going up and down the whole line, they exchanged the war gear: the brave fighter put on good armor, and gave the worse to the worse man. Then, when they had clothed their bodies in gleaming bronze, they marched out, and Poseidon the Earth-Shaker led them, holding in his massive hand a terrible, long-edged sword like a bolt of lightning; it is not lawful to clash with him in grim battle, for terror holds men back. On the other side, glorious Hector marshaled the Trojans. Then dark-haired Poseidon and glorious Hector pulled taut the fiercest cord of war, Hector aiding the Trojans and Poseidon the Argives. The sea surged up against the shelters and ships of the Argives, and the armies clashed with a tremendous war cry. Not so loud does the sea's wave roar against the shore when driven from the open deep by the harsh blast of Boreas; nor is there so great a roar of blazing fire in the glens of a mountain, when it rises up to burn the forest; nor does the wind howl so loudly around the high-crested oaks when its wrathful roar is at its fiercest, as the voices of the Trojans and Achaeans rang out then, shouting terribly as they charged at one another.

Glorious Hector was first to cast his spear at Ajax, since Ajax was turned straight toward him, and he did not miss, striking where the two straps were stretched across his chest, one for his shield and one for his silver-studded sword; and those two protected his tender flesh. Hector was furious that his swift shaft had flown from his hand in vain, and he drew back into the throng of his companions, avoiding death. Many boulders that served as props for the swift ships were rolling underfoot among the fighters; as Hector was drawing back, great Telamonian Ajax lifted one of them and struck him on the chest above the shield-rim, close by the throat. With the blow he sent him spinning like a top, whirling round and round. And just as an oak crashes down under a stroke from Father Zeus, torn up by the roots, and a terrible stench of sulfur rises from it, and no courage is left in any man who stands nearby and sees it, for the thunderbolt of great Zeus is hard to face—so Hector in all his strength fell swiftly to the ground in the dust. He dropped the spear from his hand, while his shield and helmet remained fastened upon him, and his armor richly worked in bronze clanged around him.

Shouting loudly, the sons of the Achaeans rushed in, hoping to drag him off, and hurled thick volleys of spears; yet no one was able to wound the shepherd of the people with a thrust or a cast, for the best men stepped in around him first—Polydamas and Aeneas and noble Agenor, and Sarpedon, leader of the Lycians, and blameless Glaucus. And none of the others neglected him either, but held their well-rounded shields in front of him, while his companions lifted him in their arms and carried him out of the hard fighting, until he reached his swift horses, which stood waiting for him behind the battle and the war with his charioteer and inlaid chariot; and they carried him toward the city, groaning heavily. But when they came to the ford of the fair-flowing river, eddying Xanthus, whom immortal Zeus fathered, there they laid him on the ground from the chariot and poured water over him. He caught his breath and looked up with his eyes, and rising onto his knees he vomited dark blood; then he fell back again to the earth, and black night closed over both his eyes, for the blow still overpowered his spirit.

When the Argives saw Hector leaving the field, they leaped all the more fiercely at the Trojans and set their minds on battle. Then far the first of them, Oileus' swift son Ajax sprang forward and stabbed Satnius, son of Enops, with his sharp spear. A blameless water-nymph had borne Satnius to Enops as he herded cattle along the banks of the Satnioeis. The son of Oileus, famed for his spear, came up close and stabbed Satnius in the flank; he fell backward, and around him Trojans and Danaans clashed in fierce combat. Spear-brandishing Polydamas, son of Panthous, came to avenge him and struck Prothoenor, son of Areilycus, on the right shoulder; right through the shoulder the heavy spear drove on, and he fell in the dust and clutched the earth in his palm. Polydamas boasted terribly over him, shouting aloud: "I do not think the javelin leaped in vain from the sturdy hand of the great-hearted son of Panthous this time either; no, one of the Argives has received it in his flesh, and I think he will lean on it as a staff going down into the house of Hades."

So he spoke, and grief seized the Argives at his boast; and most of all he stirred the heart of war-minded Ajax, the son of Telamon, for the man had fallen closest to him. Quickly, as Polydamas drew back, Ajax hurled his shining spear. Polydamas himself escaped black fate by springing sideways, but Antenor's son Archelochus received the cast, for the gods had decreed his destruction. It struck him at the joint of head and neck, on the topmost vertebra, and sheared through both tendons; and his head and mouth and nostrils struck the ground far sooner than his shins and knees as he fell. Then Ajax in turn shouted to blameless Polydamas: "Consider, Polydamas, and tell me the plain truth: is not this man well worth slaying in exchange for Prothoenor? He does not seem to me a base man, nor born of base stock, but a brother of horse-taming Antenor, or his son; for in breed he looked most like him." So he spoke, knowing full well who it was, and grief seized the Trojans' hearts.

Then Acamas stood astride his brother's body and stabbed the Boeotian Promachus with his spear as Promachus was dragging the body away by the feet. And Acamas boasted terribly over Promachus, shouting aloud: "Argives, arrow-fighters, never sated with threats, surely toil and misery will not belong to us alone, but just like this you too will be slaughtered. See how your Promachus sleeps, subdued by my spear, so that the blood-price for my brother might not go long unpaid! That is why a man prays to leave a kinsman behind in his halls to avenge his ruin."

So he spoke, and grief seized the Argives at his boast; and most of all he stirred the heart of war-minded Peneleos. He charged at Acamas, who did not stand his ground before the rush of lord Peneleos; instead Peneleos stabbed Ilioneus, son of Phorbas rich in flocks, whom Hermes loved above all other Trojans and endowed with wealth, and to whom the boy's mother bore Ilioneus as an only child. Peneleos stabbed him beneath the brow at the roots of the eye and forced out the eyeball; the spear drove straight through the eye and out through the nape of the neck, and he sank down, stretching out both hands. Then Peneleos drew his sharp sword and struck him square on the neck, lopping his head to the ground, helmet and all; the heavy spear was still fixed in his eye, and Peneleos lifted it like a poppy head, held it out to the Trojans, and spoke a boastful word: "Give word for me, Trojans, to noble Ilioneus' dear father and mother to wail for him in their halls; for neither will the wife of Promachus, son of Alegenor, rejoice at her dear husband's return, on the day when we sons of the Achaeans sail home from Troy in our ships." So he spoke, and trembling seized the limbs of them all, and each man glanced around to see where he might escape sheer destruction.

Tell me now, you Muses who have your homes on Olympus, who was the first of the Achaeans to carry off blood-stained spoils once the famed Earth-Shaker turned the battle. Telamonian Ajax was first: he stabbed Hyrtius, son of Gyrtius, leader of the stout-hearted Mysians. Antilochus killed and stripped Phalces and Mermerus; Meriones killed Morys and Hippotion; Teucer slew Prothoon and Periphetes; and next Menelaus, son of Atreus, caught Hyperenor, shepherd of the people, and stabbed him in the flank; the bronze slashed and gouged out his entrails, and his spirit rushed out in haste through the gaping wound, and darkness covered his eyes. But Ajax, Oileus' swift son, killed the most, for no man was his equal at pursuing on foot men who broke in terror, whenever Zeus drove rout among them.