The anger of Achilles, Iliad scrolls 1-2
THE ILIAD of Homer
translated by Samuel Butler
revised by Timothy Power and Gregory Nagy
NOTE: Important Greek terms, in brackets,
 Sing, O goddess, the anger [mÍnis] of Achilles, son of Peleus, that brought countless ills upon the Achaeans. Many a brave soul [psukhÍ] did it send hurrying down to Hades, and many a hero did it yield a prey to dogs
 and vultures, for so was the will of Zeus fulfilled, from the day on which the son of Atreus, king of men, and great Achilles, first fell out with one another. And which of the gods was it that set them on to quarrel? It was the son of Zeus and Leto; for he was angry with the king
 and sent a pestilence upon the host to plague the people, because the son of Atreus had dishonored Chryses his priest. Now Chryses had come to the ships of the Achaeans to free his daughter, and had brought with him a great ransom: moreover he bore in his hand the scepter of Apollo wreathed with a suppliantís wreath
 and he besought the Achaeans, but most of all the two sons of Atreus, who were their chiefs. "Sons of Atreus," he cried, "and all other Achaeans, may the gods who dwell in Olympus grant you to sack the city of Priam, and to reach your homes in safety;
 but free my daughter, and accept a ransom for her, in reverence to Apollo, son of Zeus." On this the rest of the Achaeans with one voice were for respecting the priest and taking the ransom that he offered; but not so Agamemnon,
 who spoke fiercely to him and sent him roughly away. "Old man," said he, "let me not find you tarrying about our ships, nor yet coming hereafter. Your scepter of the god and your wreath shall profit you nothing. I will not free her. She shall grow old
 in my house at Argos far from her own home, busying herself with her loom and visiting my couch; so go, and do not provoke me or it shall be the worse for you." The old man feared him and obeyed. Not a word he spoke, but went by the shore of the sounding sea
 and prayed apart to King Apollo whom lovely Leto had borne. "Hear me," he cried, "O god of the silver bow, you who protect Chryse and holy Cilla and rule Tenedos with your might, hear me O god of Sminthe. If I have ever decked your temple with garlands,
 or burned for you thigh-bones in fat of bulls or goats, grant my prayer, and let your arrows avenge these my tears upon the Danaans." Thus did he pray, and Apollo heard his prayer. He came down furious from the summits of Olympus,
 with his bow and his quiver upon his shoulder, and the arrows rattled on his back with the rage that trembled within him. He sat himself down away from the ships with a face as dark as night, and his silver bow rang death as he shot his arrow in the midst of them.
 First he smote their mules and their hounds, but presently he aimed his shafts at the people themselves, and all day long the pyres of the dead were burning. For nine whole days he shot his arrows among the people, but upon the tenth day Achilles called them in assembly,
 moved thereto by Hera, who saw the Achaeans in their death-throes and had compassion upon them. Then, when they were got together, he rose and spoke among them. "Son of Atreus," said he, "I deem that we should now
 turn roving home if we would escape destruction, for we are being cut down by war and pestilence at once. Let us ask some priest or seer [mantis], or some reader of dreams (for dreams, too, are of Zeus) who can tell us why Phoebus Apollo is so angry, and say
 whether it is for some vow that we have broken, or hecatomb that we have not offered, and whether he will accept the savor of lambs and goats without blemish, so as to take away the plague from us." With these words he sat down, and Kalkhas son of Thestor, wisest of augurs,
 who knew things past present and to come, rose to speak. He it was who had guided the Achaeans with their fleet to Ilion, through the prophesyings with which Phoebus Apollo had inspired him. With all sincerity and goodwill he addressed them thus: "Achilles, loved of heaven, you bid me tell you about the
 anger [mÍnis] of King Apollo, I will therefore do so; but consider first and swear that you will stand by me heartily in word and deed, for I know that I shall offend one who rules the Argives with might, to whom all the Achaeans are in subjection.
 A plain man cannot stand against the anger of a king, who if he swallow his displeasure now, will yet nurse revenge till he has wreaked it. Consider, therefore, whether or no you will protect me." And Achilles answered,
 "Fear not, but speak as it is borne in upon you from heaven, for by Apollo, Kalkhas, to whom you pray, and whose oracles you reveal to us, not a Danaan at our ships shall lay his hand upon you, while I yet live to look upon the face of the earth -
 no, not though you name Agamemnon himself, who is by far the foremost of the Achaeans." Thereon the seer [mantis] spoke boldly. "The god," he said, "is angry neither about vow nor hecatomb, but for his priestís sake, whom Agamemnon has dishonored,
 in that he would not free his daughter nor take a ransom for her; therefore has he sent these evils upon us, and will yet send others. He will not deliver the Danaans from this pestilence till Agamemnon has restored the girl without fee or ransom to her father, and has sent a holy hecatomb
 to Chryse. Thus we may perhaps appease him." With these words he sat down, and Agamemnon rose in anger. His heart was black with rage, and his eyes flashed fire
 as he scowled on Kalkhas and said, "Seer [mantis] of evil, you never yet prophesied smooth things concerning me, but have ever loved to foretell that which was evil. You have brought me neither comfort nor performance; and now you come seeing among Danaans, and saying
 that Apollo has plagued us because I would not take a ransom for this girl, the daughter of Chryses. I have set my heart on keeping her in my own house, for I love her better even than my own wife Clytemnestra, whose peer she is alike in
 form and feature, in understanding and accomplishments. Still I will give her up if I must, for I would have the people live, not die; but you must find me a prize instead, or I alone among the Argives shall be without one. This is not well;
 for you behold, all of you, that my prize is to go elsewhere." And Achilles answered, "Most noble son of Atreus, covetous beyond all humankind, how shall the Achaeans find you another prize? We have no common store from which to take one.
 Those we took from the cities have been awarded; we cannot disallow the awards that have been made already. Give this girl, therefore, to the god, and if ever Zeus grants us to sack the city of Troy we will requite you three and fourfold."
 Then Agamemnon said, "Achilles, valiant though you be, you shall not thus get the better of me in matters of the mind [noos]. You shall not overreach and you shall not persuade me. Are you to keep your own prize, while I sit tamely under my loss and give up the girl at your bidding?
 Let the Achaeans find me a prize in fair exchange to my liking, or I will come and take your own, or that of Ajax or of Odysseus; and he to whomsoever I may come shall rue my coming.
 But of this we will take thought hereafter; for the present, let us draw a ship into the sea, and find a crew for her expressly; let us put a hecatomb on board, and let us send Chryseis also; further, let some chief man among us be in command,
 either Ajax, or Idomeneus, or yourself, son of Peleus, mighty warrior that you are, that we may offer sacrifice and appease the anger of the god." Achilles scowled at him and answered, "You are steeped in insolence and lust of gain.
 With what heart can any of the Achaeans do your bidding, either on foray or in open fighting? I came to make war here not because the Trojans are responsible [aitioi] for any wrong committed against me. I have no quarrel with them. They have not raided my cattle nor my horses,
 nor cut down my harvests on the fertile plains of Phthia; for between me and them there is a great space, both mountain and sounding sea. We have followed you, Sir Insolence! for your pleasure, not ours - to gain satisfaction [timÍ] from the Trojans for your shameless self and for Menelaos.
 You forget this, and threaten to rob me of the prize for which I have toiled, and which the sons of the Achaeans have given me. Never when the Achaeans sack any rich city of the Trojans do I receive so good a prize as you do,
 though it is my hands that do the better part of the fighting. When the sharing comes, your share is far the largest, and I, indeed, must go back to my ships, take what I can get and be thankful, when my labor of fighting is done. Now, therefore, I shall go back to Phthia; it will be much better
 for me to return home with my ships, for I will not stay here dishonored to gather gold and substance for you." And Agamemnon answered, "Flee if you will, I shall make you no prayers to stay you. I have others here
 who will do me honor, and above all Zeus, the lord of counsel. There is no king here so hateful to me as you are, for you are ever quarrelsome and ill affected. What though you be brave? Was it not heaven that made you so? Go home, then, with your ships and comrades
 to lord it over the Myrmidons. I care neither for you nor for your anger; and thus will I do: since Phoebus Apollo is taking Chryseis from me, I shall send her with my ship and my followers, but I shall come to your tent and
 take your own prize Briseis, that you may learn how much more prestigious I am than you are, and that another may fear to set himself up as equal or comparable with me." The son of Peleus felt grief [akhos], and his heart within his shaggy breast was divided
 whether to draw his sword, push the others aside, and kill the son of Atreus, or to restrain himself and check his anger. While he was thus in two minds, and was drawing his mighty sword from its scabbard, Athena came down
 from heaven (for Hera had sent her in the love she bore to them both), and seized the son of Peleus by his yellow hair, visible to him alone, for of the others no man could see her. Achilles turned in amaze, and by the fire that flashed from her eyes at once knew that she was
 Athena. "Why are you here," said he, "daughter of aegis-bearing Zeus? To see the pride [hubris] of Agamemnon, son of Atreus? Let me tell you - and it shall surely be -
 he shall pay for this insolence with his life." And Athena said, "I come from heaven, if you will hear me, to bid you stay your anger. Hera has sent me, who cares for both of you alike.
 Cease, then, this brawling, and do not draw your sword; rail at him if you will, and your railing will not be vain, for I tell you - and it shall surely be - that you shall hereafter receive gifts three times as splendid by reason of this present insult [hubris]. Hold, therefore, and obey."
 "Goddess," answered Achilles, "however angry a man may be, he must do as you two command him. This will be best, for the gods ever hear the prayers of him who has obeyed them." He stayed his hand on the silver hilt of his sword,
 and thrust it back into the scabbard as Athena bade him. Then she went back to Olympus among the other gods [daimones], and to the house of aegis-bearing Zeus. But the son of Peleus again began railing at the son of Atreus, for he was still in a rage.
 "Wine-bibber," he cried, "with the face of a dog and the heart of a hind, you never dare to go out with the host in fight, nor yet with our chosen men in ambuscade. You shun this as you do death itself. You had rather go round and
 rob his prizes from any man who contradicts you. You devour your people, for you are king over a feeble folk; otherwise, son of Atreus, henceforward you would insult no man. Therefore I say, and swear it with a great oath - nay, by this my scepter which shall sprout neither leaf nor shoot,
 nor bud anew from the day on which it left its parent stem upon the mountains - for the axe stripped it of leaf and bark, and now the sons of the Achaeans bear it as judges and guardians of the decrees [themistes] of heaven - so surely and solemnly do I swear
 that hereafter they shall look fondly for Achilles and shall not find him. In the day of your distress, when your men fall dying by the murderous hand of Hektor, you shall not know how to help them, and shall rend your heart with rage for the hour when you offered insult to the best [aristos] of the Achaeans."
 With this the son of Peleus dashed his gold-bestudded scepter on the ground and took his seat, while the son of Atreus was beginning fiercely from his place upon the other side. Then stood up smooth-tongued Nestor, the facile speaker of the Pylians, and the words fell from his lips sweeter than honey.
 Two generations of men born and bred in Pylos had passed away under his rule, and he was now reigning over the third. With all sincerity and goodwill, therefore, he addressed them thus: - "Of a truth," he said, "a great sorrow [penthos] has befallen the Achaean land.
 Surely Priam with his sons would rejoice, and the Trojans be glad at heart if they could hear this quarrel between you two, who are so excellent in fight and counsel. I am older than either of you; therefore be guided by me.
 Moreover I have been the familiar friend of men even greater than you are, and they did not disregard my counsels. Never again can I behold such men as Peirithoos and Dryas shepherd of his people, or as Kaineus, Exadios, godlike Polyphemus,
 and Theseus son of Aegeus, peer of the immortals. These were the mightiest men ever born upon this earth: mightiest were they, and when they fought the fiercest tribes of mountain savages they utterly overthrew them. I came from distant Pylos, and went about among them,
 for they would have me come, and I fought as it was in me to do. Not a man now living could withstand them, but they heard my words, and were persuaded by them. So be it also with yourselves, for this is the more excellent way.
 Therefore, Agamemnon, though you be prestigious, take not this girl away, for the sons of the Achaeans have already given her to Achilles; and you, Achilles, strive not further with the king, for no man who by the grace of Zeus wields a scepter has like honor [timÍ] with Agamemnon.
 You are strong, and have a goddess for your mother; but Agamemnon is more prestigious than you, for he has more people under him. Son of Atreus, check your anger, I implore you; end this quarrel with Achilles, who in the day of battle is a tower of strength to the Achaeans."
 And Agamemnon answered, "Old sir, all that you have said is true, but this man wants to become our lord and master: he must be lord of all, king of all, and leader of all, and this shall hardly be.
 Granted that the gods have made him a great warrior, have they also given him the right to speak with railing?" Achilles in turn said to him: "I should be a mean coward," he cried, "were I to give in to you in all things.
 Order other people about, not me, for I shall obey no longer. Furthermore I say - and lay my saying to your heart - I shall fight neither you nor any man about this girl, for those that take were those also that gave.
 But of all else that is at my ship you shall carry away nothing by force. Try, that others may see; if you do, my spear shall be reddened with your blood." When they had quarreled thus angrily,
 they rose, and broke up the assembly at the ships of the Achaeans. The son of Peleus went back to his tents and ships with the son of Menoitios and his company, while Agamemnon drew a vessel into the water and chose a crew of twenty oarsmen.
 He escorted Chryseis on board and sent moreover a hecatomb for the god. And Odysseus went as leader. These, then, went on board and sailed their ways over the sea. But the son of Atreus bade the people purify themselves; so they purified themselves and cast their filth into the sea.
 Then they offered hecatombs of bulls and goats without blemish on the sea-shore, and the smoke with the savor of their sacrifice rose curling up towards heaven. Thus did they busy themselves throughout the host. But Agamemnon did not forget the threat that he had made Achilles,
 and called his trusty messengers and squires [therapontes] Talthybios and Eurybates. "Go," said he, "to the tent of Achilles, son of Peleus; take Briseis by the hand and bring her hither; if he will not give her I shall come
 with others and take her - which will press him harder." He charged them straightly further and dismissed them, whereon they went their way sorrowfully by the seaside, till they came to the tents and ships of the Myrmidons. They found Achilles sitting by his tent and his ships,
 and ill-pleased he was when he beheld them. They stood fearfully and reverently before him, and never a word did they speak, but he knew them and said, "Welcome, heralds, messengers of gods and men;
 draw near; my quarrel is not with you but with Agamemnon who has sent you for the girl Briseis. Therefore, Patroklos, bring her and give her to them, but let them be witnesses by the blessed gods, by mortal men,
 and by the fierceness of Agamemnonís anger, that if ever again there be need of me to save the people from ruin, they shall seek and they shall not find. Agamemnon is mad with rage and knows not how to look before and after that the Achaeans may fight by their ships in safety."
 Patroklos did as his dear comrade had bidden him. He brought Briseis from the tent and gave her over to the heralds, who took her with them to the ships of the Achaeans - and the woman was loath to go. Then Achilles went all alone
 by the side of the hoar sea [pontos], weeping and looking out upon the boundless waste of waters. He raised his hands in prayer to his immortal mother, "Mother," he cried, "you bore me doomed to live but for a brief season; surely Zeus, who thunders from Olympus, might have given honor [timÍ] in return. It is not so.
 Agamemnon, son of Atreus, has done me dishonor, and has robbed me of my prize by force." As he spoke he wept aloud, and his mother heard him where she was sitting in the depths of the sea hard by the Old One, her father. Forthwith she rose as it were a gray mist out of the waves,
 sat down before him as he stood weeping, caressed him with her hand, and said, "My son, why are you weeping? What is it that gives you grief [penthos]? Keep it not from my thinking [noos], but tell me, that we may know it together." Achilles drew a deep sigh and said,
 "You know it; why tell you what you know well already? We went to Thebe the strong city of Eetion, sacked it, and brought hither the spoil. The sons of the Achaeans shared it duly among themselves, and chose lovely Chryseis as the prize of Agamemnon;
 but Chryses, priest of Apollo, came to the ships of the Achaeans to free his daughter, and brought with him a great ransom: moreover he bore in his hand the scepter of Apollo, wreathed with a suppliantís wreath, and he besought the Achaeans,
 but most of all the two sons of Atreus who were their chiefs. On this the rest of the Achaeans with one voice were for respecting the priest and taking the ransom that he offered; but not so Agamemnon, who spoke fiercely to him and sent him roughly away.
 So he went back in anger, and Apollo, who loved him dearly, heard his prayer. Then the god sent a deadly dart upon the Argives, and the people died thick on one another, for the arrows went everywhere among the wide host of the Achaeans. At last a seer [mantis]
 in the fullness of his knowledge declared to us the oracles of Apollo, and I was myself first to say that we should appease him. Whereon the son of Atreus rose in anger, and threatened that which he has since done. The Achaeans are now taking the girl in a ship
 to Chryse, and sending gifts of sacrifice to the god; but the heralds have just taken from my tent the daughter of Briseus, whom the Achaeans had awarded to myself. Help your brave son, therefore, if you are able. Go to Olympus, and if you have ever
 done him service in word or deed, implore the aid of Zeus. Ofttimes in my fatherís house have I heard you glory in that you alone of the immortals saved the son of Kronos from ruin, when the others,
 with Hera, Poseidon, and Pallas Athena would have put him in bonds. It was you, goddess, who delivered him by calling to Olympus the hundred-handed one whom gods call Briareus, but men Aigaion, for he has more force [biÍ] even than his father;
 when therefore he took his seat all-glorious beside the son of Kronos, the other gods were afraid, and did not bind him. Go, then, to him, remind him of all this, clasp his knees, and bid him give succor to the Trojans. Let the Achaeans be hemmed in at the sterns of their ships, and perish on the sea-shore,
 that they may reap what joy they may of their king, and that Agamemnon may rue his derangement [atÍ] in offering insult to the best [aristos] of the Achaeans." Thetis wept and answered, "My son, woe is me that I should have borne or suckled you.
 Would indeed that you had lived your span free from all sorrow at your ships, for it is all too brief; alas, that you should be at once short of life and long of sorrow above your peers: woe, therefore, was the hour in which I bore you;
 nevertheless I will go to the snowy heights of Olympus, and tell this tale to Zeus, if he will hear our prayer: meanwhile stay where you are with your ships, nurse your anger [mÍnis] against the Achaeans, and hold aloof from fight. For Zeus went yesterday to Okeanos, to a feast among the Ethiopians, and the other gods went with him.
 He will return to Olympus twelve days hence; I will then go to his mansion paved with bronze and will beseech him; nor do I doubt that I shall be able to persuade him." On this she left him, still furious at the loss of her
 that had been taken by force [biÍ] from him. Meanwhile Odysseus reached Chryse with the hecatomb. When they had come inside the harbor they furled the sails and laid them in the shipís hold; they slackened the forestays, lowered the mast into its place,
 and rowed the ship to the place where they would have her lie; there they cast out their mooring-stones and made fast the hawsers. They then got out upon the sea-shore and landed the hecatomb for Apollo; Chryseis also left the ship,
 and Odysseus led her to the altar to deliver her into the hands of her father. "Chryses," said he, "King Agamemnon has sent me to bring you back your child, and to offer sacrifice to Apollo on behalf of the Danaans, that we may propitiate the god,
 who has now brought sorrow upon the Argives." So saying he gave the girl over to her father, who received her gladly, and they ranged the holy hecatomb all orderly round the altar of the god. They washed their hands and took up the barley-meal to sprinkle over the victims,
 while Chryses lifted up his hands and prayed aloud on their behalf. "Hear me," he cried, "O god of the silver bow, you who protect Chryse and holy Cilla, and rule Tenedos with your might. Even as you did hear me aforetime when I prayed, and did press hard upon the Achaeans,
 so hear me yet again, and stay this fearful pestilence from the Danaans." Thus did he pray, and Apollo heard his prayer. When they had done praying and sprinkling the barley-meal, they drew back the heads of the victims and killed and flayed them.
 They cut out the thigh-bones, wrapped them round in two layers of fat, set some pieces of raw meat on the top of them, and then Chryses laid them on the wood fire and poured wine over them, while the young men stood near him with five-pronged spits in their hands. When the thigh-bones were burned and they had tasted the inward meats,
 they cut the rest up small, put the pieces upon the spits, roasted them till they were done, and drew them off: then, when they had finished their work [ponos] and the feast was ready, they ate it, and every man had his full share, so that all were satisfied. As soon as they had had enough to eat and drink,
 pages filled the mixing-bowl with wine and water and handed it round, after giving every man his drink-offering. Thus all day long the young men worshipped the god with song, hymning him and chanting the joyous paean, and the god took pleasure in their voices;
 but when the sun went down, and it came on dark, they laid themselves down to sleep by the stern cables of the ship, and when the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared they again set sail for the host of the Achaeans. Apollo sent them a fair wind,
 so they raised their mast and hoisted their white sails aloft. As the sail bellied with the wind the ship flew through the seething deep water, and the foam hissed against her bows as she sped onward. When they reached the wide-stretching host of the Achaeans,
 they drew the vessel ashore, high and dry upon the sands, set her strong props beneath her, and went their ways to their own tents and ships. But Achilles stayed at his ships and nursed his anger [mÍnis].
 He went not to the honorable assembly, and sallied not forth to fight, but gnawed at his own heart, pining for battle and the war-cry. Now after twelve days the immortal gods came back in a body to Olympus,
 and Zeus led the way. Thetis was not unmindful of the charge her son had laid upon her, so she rose from under the sea and went, enveloped in mist, through great heaven with early morning to Olympus, where she found the mighty son of Kronos sitting all alone upon its topmost ridges.
 She sat herself down before him, and with her left hand seized his knees, while with her right she caught him under the chin, and besought him, saying - "Father Zeus, if I ever did you service in word or deed among the immortals, hear my prayer,
 and do honor to my son, whose life is to be cut short so early. King Agamemnon has dishonored him by taking his prize and keeping her. Honor him then yourself, Olympian lord of counsel, and grant victory to the Trojans, till the Achaeans
 give my son his due and load him with riches in requital [timÍ]." Zeus sat for a while silent, and without a word, but Thetis still kept firm hold of his knees, and besought him a second time. "Nod your head," said she, "and promise me surely,
 or else deny me - for you have nothing to fear - that I may learn how greatly you disdain me." At this Zeus was much troubled and answered, "I shall have trouble if you set me quarreling with Hera, for she will provoke me with her taunting speeches;
 even now she is always railing at me before the other gods and accusing me of giving aid to the Trojans. Go back now, lest she should find out. I will consider the matter, and will bring it about as you wish.
 See, I nod my head that you believe me. This is the most solemn act that I can offer to any god. I never recall my word, or deceive, or fail to do what I say, when I have nodded my head." As he spoke the son of Kronos bowed his dark brows, and the ambrosial locks swayed
 on his immortal head, till vast Olympus reeled. When the pair had thus laid their plans, they parted - Zeus to his mansion, while the goddess left the splendor of Olympus, and plunged into the depths of the sea. The gods rose from their seats, before the coming of their sire. Not one of them dared
 to remain sitting, but all stood up as he came among them. There, then, he took his seat. But Hera, when she saw him, knew that he and silver-footed Thetis, the daughter of the Old One of the Sea, had been planning mischief, so she at once began to upbraid him.
 "Trickster," she cried, "which of the gods have you been taking into your counsels now? You are always settling matters in secret behind my back, and have never yet told me, if you could help it, one word of your intentions."
 "Hera," replied the sire of gods and men, "you must not expect to be informed of all my counsels. You are my wife, but you would find it hard to understand them. When it is proper for you to hear, there is no one, god or man, who will be told sooner, but when I mean to keep a matter to myself,
 you must not pry nor ask questions." "Dread son of Kronos," answered Hera, "what are you talking about? I? Pry and ask questions? Never. I let you have your own way in everything.
 Still, I have a strong misgiving that Thetis, daughter of the Old One of the Sea, has been talking you over, for she was with you and had hold of your knees this self-same morning. I believe, therefore, that you have been promising her to give glory to Achilles, and to kill many people at the ships of the Achaeans."
 "Wife," said Zeus, "I can do nothing but you suspect me and find it out. You will take nothing by it, for I shall only dislike you the more, and it will go harder with you. Granted that it is as you say; I mean to have it so;
 sit down and hold your tongue as I bid you for if I once begin to lay my hands about you, though all heaven were on your side it would profit you nothing." On this Hera was frightened, so she curbed her stubborn will and sat down in silence.
 But the heavenly beings were disquieted throughout the house of Zeus, till the cunning workman Hephaistos began to try and pacify his mother Hera. "It will be intolerable," said he, "if you two fall to wrangling
 and setting heaven in an uproar about a pack of mortals. If such ill counsels are to prevail, we shall have no pleasure at our banquet. Let me then advise my mother - and she must herself know that it will be better - to make friends with my dear father Zeus, lest he again scold her and disturb our feast.
 If the Olympian Thunderer wants to hurl us all from our seats, he can do so, for he is far the strongest, so give him fair words, and he will then soon be in a good humor with us." As he spoke, he took a double cup of nectar,
 and placed it in his motherís hand. "Cheer up, my dear mother," said he, "and make the best of it. I love you dearly, and should be very sorry to see you get a thrashing; however grieved I might be, I could not help for there is no standing against Zeus.
 Once before when I was trying to help you, he caught me by the foot and flung me from the heavenly threshold. All day long from morn till eve, was I falling, till at sunset I came to ground in the island of Lemnos, and there I lay, with very little life left in me, till the Sintians came and tended me."
 Hera smiled at this, and as she smiled she took the cup from her sonís hands. Then Hephaistos drew sweet nectar from the mixing-bowl, and served it round among the gods, going from left to right; and the blessed gods laughed out a loud approval
 as they saw him bustling about the heavenly mansion. Thus through the livelong day to the going down of the sun they feasted, and every one had his full share, so that all were satisfied. Apollo struck his lyre, and the Muses lifted up their sweet voices, taking turns.
 But when the sunís glorious light had faded, they went home to bed, each in his own abode, which lame Hephaistos with his consummate skill had fashioned for them. So Zeus, the Olympian Lord of Thunder, hied him to the bed
 in which he always slept; and when he had got on to it he went to sleep, with Hera of the golden throne by his side.
 Now the other gods and the armed warriors on the plain slept soundly, but Zeus was wakeful, for he was thinking how to do honor to Achilles, and destroy many people at the ships of the Achaeans.
 In the end he deemed it would be best to send a lying dream to King Agamemnon; so he called one to him and said to it, "Lying Dream, go to the ships of the Achaeans,
 into the tent of Agamemnon, and say to him word to word as I now bid you. Tell him to get the Achaeans instantly under arms, for he shall take Troy. There are no longer divided counsels among the gods;
 Hera has brought them to her own mind, and woe betides the Trojans." The dream went when it had heard its message, and soon reached the ships of the Achaeans. It sought Agamemnon son of Atreus and found him in his tent, wrapped in a profound slumber.
 It hovered over his head in the likeness of Nestor, son of Neleus, whom Agamemnon honored above all his councilors, and said: - "You are sleeping, son of Atreus;
 one who has the welfare of his host and so much other care upon his shoulders should dock his sleep. Hear me at once, for I come as a messenger from Zeus, who, though he be not near, yet takes thought for you and pities you. He bids you get the Achaeans instantly under arms, for you shall take
 Troy. There are no longer divided counsels among the gods; Hera has brought them over to her own mind, and woe betides the Trojans at the hands of Zeus. Remember this, and when you wake see that it does not escape you."
 The dream then left him, and he thought of things that were, surely, not to be accomplished. He thought that on that same day he was to take the city of Priam, but he little knew what was in the mind of Zeus, who had many another
 hard-fought fight in store alike for Danaans and Trojans. Then presently he woke, with the divine message still ringing in his ears; so he sat upright, and put on his soft shirt so fair and new, and over this his heavy cloak. He bound his sandals on to his comely feet,
 and slung his silver-studded sword about his shoulders; then he took the imperishable staff of his father, and sallied forth to the ships of the Achaeans. The goddess Dawn now wended her way to vast Olympus that she might herald day to Zeus and to the other immortals,
 and Agamemnon sent the criers round to call the people in assembly; so they called them and the people gathered thereon. But first he summoned a meeting of the elders at the ship of Nestor king of Pylos,
 and when they were assembled he laid a cunning counsel before them. "My friends," said he, "I have had a dream from heaven in the dead of night, and its face and figure resembled none but Nestorís. It hovered over my head and said,
 ĎYou are sleeping, son of Atreus; one who has the welfare of his host and so much other care upon his shoulders should dock his sleep. Hear me at once, for I am a messenger from Zeus, who, though he be not near, yet takes thought for you and pities you.
 He bids you get the Achaeans instantly under arms, for you shall take Troy. There are no longer divided counsels among the gods; Hera has brought them over to her own mind, and woe betides the Trojans
 at the hands of Zeus. Remember this.í The dream then vanished and I awoke. Let us now, therefore, arm the sons of the Achaeans. But it will be the right thing [themis] that I should first sound them, and to this end I will tell them to flee with their ships;
 but do you others go about among the host and prevent their doing so." He then sat down, and Nestor the king of Pylos with all sincerity and goodwill addressed them thus: "My friends," said he, "princes and councilors of the Argives,
 if any other man of the Achaeans had told us of this dream we should have declared it false, and would have had nothing to do with it. But he who has seen it is the foremost man among us; we must therefore set about getting the people under arms." With this he led the way from the assembly,
 and the other sceptered kings rose with him in obedience to the word of Agamemnon; but the people pressed forward to hear. They swarmed like bees that sally from some hollow cave and flit in countless throng among the spring flowers,
 bunched in knots and clusters; even so did the mighty multitude pour from ships and tents to the assembly, and range themselves upon the wide-watered shore, while among them ran Wildfire Rumor, messenger of Zeus, urging them ever to the fore.
 Thus they gathered in a pell-mell of mad confusion, and the earth groaned under the tramp of men as the people sought their places. Nine heralds went crying about among them to stay their tumult and bid them listen to the kings, till at last they were got into their several places and ceased their clamor.
 Then King Agamemnon rose, holding his scepter. This was the work of Hephaistos, who gave it to Zeus the son of Kronos. Zeus gave it to Hermes, slayer of Argos, guide and guardian. King Hermes gave it to Pelops, the mighty charioteer, and
 Pelops to Atreus, shepherd of his people. Atreus, when he died, left it to Thyestes, rich in flocks, and Thyestes in his turn left it to be borne by Agamemnon, that he might be lord of all Argos and of the isles. Leaning, then, on his scepter, he addressed the Argives.
 "My friends," he said, "heroes, squires [therapontes] of Ares, Zeus the son of Kronos has tied me down with atÍ. Cruel, he gave me his solemn promise that I should sack the city of Priam before returning, but he has played me false, and is now bidding me
 go ingloriously back to Argos with the loss of many people. Such is the will of Zeus, who has laid many a proud city in the dust, as he will yet lay others, for his power is above all. It will be a sorry tale hereafter that an
 Achaean host, at once so great and valiant, battled in vain against men fewer in number than themselves; but as yet the end is not in sight. Think that the Achaeans and Trojans have sworn to a solemn covenant, and that they have each been numbered -
 the Trojans by the roll of their householders, and we by companies of ten; think further that each of our companies desired to have a Trojan householder to pour out their wine; we are so greatly more in number that full many a company would have to go without its cup-bearer.
 But they have in the town allies from other places, and it is these that hinder me from being able to sack the rich city of Ilion. Nine of Zeus years are gone;
 the timbers of our ships have rotted; their tackling is sound no longer. Our wives and little ones at home look anxiously for our coming, but the work that we came hither to do has not been done. Now, therefore, let us all do as I say:
 let us sail back to our own land, for we shall not take Troy." With these words he moved the hearts of the multitude, so many of them as knew not the cunning counsel of Agamemnon. They surged to and fro like the waves
 of the Ikarian Sea [pontos], when the east and south winds break from heavenís clouds to lash them; or as when the west wind sweeps over a field of grain and the ears bow beneath the blast, even so were they swayed as they flew with loud cries
 towards the ships, and the dust from under their feet rose heavenward. They cheered each other on to draw the ships into the sea; they cleared the channels in front of them; they began taking away the stays from underneath them, and the welkin rang with their glad cries, so eager were they to return.
 Then surely the Argives would have had a return [nostos] after a fashion that was not fated. But Hera said to Athena, "Alas, daughter of aegis-bearing Zeus, unweariable, shall the Argives flee home to their own land over the broad sea,
 and leave Priam and the Trojans the glory of still keeping Helen, for whose sake so many of the Achaeans have died at Troy, far from their homes? Go about at once among the host, and speak fairly to them, man by man,
 that they draw not their ships into the sea." Athena was not slack to do her bidding. Down she darted from the topmost summits of Olympus, and in a moment she was at the ships of the Achaeans. There she found Odysseus, peer of Zeus in counsel,
 standing alone. He had not as yet laid a hand upon his ship, for he felt grief [akhos] and was sorry; so she went close up to him and said, "Odysseus, noble son of Laertes,
 are you going to fling yourselves into your ships and be off home to your own land in this way? Will you leave Priam and the Trojans the glory of still keeping Helen, for whose sake so many of the Achaeans have died at Troy, far from their homes? Go about at once among the host,
 and speak fairly to them, man by man, that they draw not their ships into the sea." Odysseus knew the voice as that of the goddess: he flung his cloak from him and set off to run. His squire Eurybates, a man of Ithaca, who waited on him, took charge of the cloak,
 whereon Odysseus went straight up to Agamemnon and received from him his ancestral, imperishable staff. With this he went about among the ships of the Achaeans. Whenever he met a king or chieftain, he stood by him and spoke him fairly.
 "Sir," said he, "this flight is cowardly and unworthy. Stand to your post, and bid your people also keep their places. You do not yet know the full mind [noos] of Agamemnon; he was sounding us, and ere long will visit the Achaeans with his displeasure. We were not all of us at the council to hear what he then said;
 see to it lest he be angry and do us a mischief; for the timÍ of kings is great, and the hand of Zeus is with them." But when he came across some man from some locale [dÍmos] who was making a noise, he struck him with his staff and rebuked him, saying,
 "What kind of daimŰn has possessed you? Hold your peace, and listen to better men than yourself. You are a coward and no warrior; you are nobody either in fight or council; we cannot all be kings; it is not well that there should be many masters; one man must be supreme -
 one king to whom the son of scheming Kronos has given the scepter and divine laws to rule over you all." Thus masterfully did he go about among the host, and the people hurried back to the council from their tents and ships with a sound as the thunder of surf when it comes crashing down upon the shore,
 and all the sea [pontos] is in an uproar. The rest now took their seats and kept to their own several places, but Thersites still went on wagging his unbridled tongue - a man of many words, and those unseemly; a monger of sedition, a railer against all who were in authority [kosmos], who cared not what he said,
 so that he might set the Achaeans in a laugh. He was the ugliest man of all those that came before Troy - bandy-legged, lame of one foot, with his two shoulders rounded and hunched over his chest. His head ran up to a point, but there was little hair on the top of it.
 Achilles and Odysseus hated him worst of all, for it was with them that he was most wont to wrangle; now, however, with a shrill squeaky voice he began heaping his abuse on Agamemnon. The Achaeans were angry and disgusted, yet none the less he kept on brawling and bawling at the son of Atreus.
 "Agamemnon," he cried, "what ails you now, and what more do you want? Your tents are filled with bronze and with fair women, for whenever we take a town we give you the pick of them. Would you have yet more gold,
 which some Trojan is to give you as a ransom for his son, when I or another Achaean has taken him prisoner? or is it some young girl to hide and lie with? It is not well that you, the ruler of the Achaeans, should bring them into such misery.
 Weakling cowards, women rather than men, let us sail home, and leave this man here at Troy to stew in his own prizes of honor, and discover whether we were of any service to him or no. Achilles is a much better man than he is, and see how he has treated him -
 robbing him of his prize and keeping it himself. Achilles takes it meekly and shows no fight; if he did, son of Atreus, you would never again insult him." Thus railed Thersites, but Odysseus at once went up to him
 and rebuked him sternly. "Check your glib tongue, Thersites," said be, "and babble not a word further. Chide not with princes when you have none to back you. There is no viler creature come before Troy with the sons of Atreus.
 Drop this chatter about kings, and neither revile them nor keep harping about homecoming [nostos]. We do not yet know how things are going to be, nor whether the Achaeans are to return with good success or evil. How dare you gibe at Agamemnon
 because the Danaans have awarded him so many prizes? I tell you, therefore - and it shall surely be - that if I again catch you talking such nonsense, I will either forfeit my own head
 and be no more called father of Telemakhos, or I will take you, strip away from you all respect [aidŰs], and whip you out of the assembly till you go blubbering back to the ships."
 On this he beat him with his staff about the back and shoulders till he dropped and fell a-weeping. The golden scepter raised a bloody weal on his back, so he sat down frightened and in pain, looking foolish as he wiped the tears from his eyes.
 The people were sorry for him, yet they laughed heartily, and one would turn to his neighbor saying, "Odysseus has done many a good thing ere now in fight and council, but he never did the Argives a better turn
 than when he stopped this manís mouth from prating further. He will give the kings no more of his insolence." Thus said the people. Then Odysseus rose, scepter in hand, and Athena
 in the likeness of a herald bade the people be still, that those who were far off might hear him and consider his council. He therefore with all sincerity and goodwill addressed them thus: - "King Agamemnon, the Achaeans are for
 making you a by-word among all humankind. They forget the promise they made you when they set out from Argos, that you should not return till you had sacked the town of Troy, and, like children or widowed women,
 they murmur and would set off homeward. True it is that they have had toil [ponos] enough to be disheartened. A man chafes at having to stay away from his wife even for a single month, when he is on shipboard, at the mercy of wind and sea,
 but it is now nine long years that we have been kept here; I cannot, therefore, blame the Achaeans if they turn restive; still we shall be shamed if we go home empty after so long a stay - therefore, my friends, be patient yet a little longer that we may learn
 whether the prophesyings of Kalkhas were false or true. "All who have not since perished must remember as though it were yesterday or the day before, how the ships of the Achaeans were detained in Aulis when we were on our way hither to make war on Priam and the Trojans.
 We were ranged round about a fountain offering hecatombs to the gods upon their holy altars, and there was a fine plane-tree from beneath which there welled a stream of pure water. Then we saw a sign [sÍma]; for Zeus sent a fearful serpent out of the ground, with blood-red stains upon its back,
 and it darted from under the altar on to the plane-tree. Now there was a brood of young sparrows, quite small, upon the topmost bough, peeping out from under the leaves, eight in all, and their mother that hatched them made nine. The serpent ate the poor cheeping things,
 while the old bird flew about lamenting her little ones; but the serpent threw his coils about her and caught her by the wing as she was screaming. Then, when he had eaten both the sparrow and her young, the god who had sent him made him become a sign; for the son of scheming Kronos turned him into stone,
 and we stood there wondering at that which had come to pass. Seeing, then, that such a fearful portent had broken in upon our hecatombs, Kalkhas forthwith declared to us the oracles of heaven. ĎWhy, Achaeans,í said he, Ďare you thus speechless? Zeus has sent us this sign,
 long in coming, and long ere it be fulfilled, though its fame [kleos] shall last for ever. As the serpent ate the eight fledglings and the sparrow that hatched them, which makes nine, so shall we fight nine years at Troy, but in the tenth shall take the town.í
 This was what he said, and now it is all coming true. Stay here, therefore, all of you, till we take the city of Priam." On this the Argives raised a shout, till the ships rang again with the uproar.
 Nestor, horseman of Gerene, then addressed them. "Shame on you," he cried, "to stay talking here like children, when you should fight like men. Where are our covenants now, and where the oaths that we have taken?
 Shall our counsels be flung into the fire, with our drink-offerings and the right hands of fellowship wherein we have put our trust? We waste our time in words, and for all our talking here shall be no further forward. Stand, therefore, son of Atreus, by your own steadfast purpose;
 lead the Argives on to battle, and leave this handful of men to rot, who scheme, and scheme in vain, to get back to Argos ere they have learned whether Zeus be true or a liar.
 For the mighty son of Kronos surely promised that we should succeed, when we Argives set sail to bring death and destruction upon the Trojans. He showed us favorable signs [sÍmata] by flashing his lightning on our right hands; therefore let none make haste to go
 till he has first lain with the wife of some Trojan, and avenged the toil and sorrow that he has suffered for the sake of Helen. Nevertheless, if any man is in such haste to be at home again, let him lay his hand to his ship that he may meet his doom in the sight of all.
 But, O king, consider and give ear to my counsel, for the word that I say may not be neglected lightly. Divide [krinŰ] your men, Agamemnon, into their several tribes and clans, that clans and tribes may stand by and help one another. If you do this, and if the Achaeans obey you,
 you will find out who, both chiefs and peoples, are brave, and who are cowards; for they will vie against the other. Thus you shall also learn whether it is through the counsel of heaven or the cowardice of man that you shall fail to take the town." And Agamemnon answered,
 "Nestor, you have again outdone the sons of the Achaeans in counsel. Would, by Father Zeus, Athena, and Apollo, that I had among them ten more such councilors, for the city of King Priam would then soon fall beneath our hands, and we should sack it.
 But the son of Kronos afflicts me with bootless wranglings and strife. Achilles and I are quarreling about this girl, in which matter I was the first to offend; if we can be of one mind again,
 the Trojans will not stave off destruction for a day. Now, therefore, get your morning meal, that our hosts join in fight. Whet well your spears; see well to the ordering of your shields; give good feeds to your horses, and look your chariots carefully over,
 that we may do battle the livelong day; for we shall have no rest, not for a moment, till night falls to part us. The bands that bear your shields shall be wet with the sweat upon your shoulders, your hands shall weary upon your spears,
 your horses shall steam in front of your chariots, and if I see any man shirking the fight, or trying to keep out of it at the ships, there shall be no help for him, but he shall be a prey to dogs and vultures." Thus he spoke, and the Achaeans roared approval. As when the waves run high
 before the blast of the south wind and break on some lofty headland, dashing against it and buffeting it without ceasing, as the storms from every quarter drive them, even so did the Achaeans rise and hurry in all directions to their ships. There they lighted their fires at their tents and got dinner,
 offering sacrifice every man to one or other of the gods, and praying each one of them that he might live to come out of the fight. Agamemnon, king of men, sacrificed a fat five-year-old bull to the mighty son of Kronos, and invited the princes and elders of his host.
 First he asked Nestor and King Idomeneus, then the two Ajaxes and the son of Tydeus, and sixthly Odysseus, peer of gods in counsel; but Menelaos came of his own accord, for he knew how busy his brother then was.
 They stood round the bull with the barley-meal in their hands, and Agamemnon prayed, saying, "Zeus, most glorious, supreme, you who dwell in heaven, and ride upon the storm-cloud, grant that the sun may not go down, nor the night fall, till the palace of Priam is laid low,
 and its gates are consumed with fire. Grant that my sword may pierce the shirt of Hektor about his heart, and that full many of his comrades may bite the dust as they fall dying round him." Thus he prayed, but the son of Kronos would not fulfill his prayer.
 He accepted the sacrifice, yet none the less increased their toil [ponos] continually. When they had done praying and sprinkling the barley-meal upon the victim, they drew back its head, killed it, and then flayed it. They cut out the thigh-bones, wrapped them round in two layers of fat, and set pieces of raw meat on the top of them.
 These they burned upon the split logs of firewood, but they spitted the inward meats, and held them in the flames to cook. When the thigh-bones were burned, and they had tasted the inward meats, they cut the rest up small, put the pieces upon spits, roasted them till they were done, and drew them off;
 then, when they had finished their work [ponos] and the feast was ready, they ate it, and every man had his full share, so that all were satisfied. As soon as they had had enough to eat and drink, Nestor, horseman of Gerene, began to speak. "King Agamemnon," said he,
 "let us not stay talking here, nor be slack in the work that heaven has put into our hands. Let the heralds summon the people to gather at their several ships; we will then go about among the host,
 that we may begin fighting at once." Thus did he speak, and Agamemnon heeded his words. He at once sent the criers round to call the people in assembly. So they called them, and the people gathered thereon.
 The chiefs about the son of Atreus chose their men and marshaled [krinŰ] them, while Athena went among them holding her priceless aegis that knows neither age nor death. From it there waved a hundred tassels of pure gold, all deftly woven, and each one of them worth a hundred oxen.
 With this she darted furiously everywhere among the hosts of the Achaeans, urging them forward, and putting courage into the heart of each, so that he might fight and do battle without ceasing. Thus war became sweeter in their eyes even than returning home in their ships.
 As when some great forest fire is raging upon a mountain top and its light is seen afar, even so as they marched the gleam of their armor flashed up into the firmament of heaven. They were like great flocks
 of geese, or cranes, or swans on the plain about the waters of Cayster, that wing their way hither and thither, glorying in the pride of flight, and crying as they settle till the fen is alive with their screaming. Even thus did their tribes pour from ships and tents
 on to the plain of the Skamandros, and the ground rang as brass under the feet of men and horses. They stood as thick upon the flower-bespangled field as leaves that bloom in season [hŰra]. As countless swarms of flies
 buzz around a herdsmanís homestead in the season [hŰra] of spring when the pails are drenched with milk, even so did the Achaeans swarm on to the plain to charge the Trojans and destroy them. The chiefs disposed their men this way and that before the fight began, drafting them out
 as easily as goatherds draft their flocks when they have got mixed while feeding; and among them went King Agamemnon, with a head and face like Zeus the lord of thunder, a waist like Ares, and a chest like that of Poseidon.
 As some great bull that lords it over the herds upon the plain, even so did Zeus make the son of Atreus stand peerless among the multitude of heroes.
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