Part 58

Many years he tended the flocks on woody Ida, but Priam, his father, dwelt in Ilion, and thought not to see his face again, and he said within himself, "Surely my child is long since dead, and no feast has been given to the gods that Paris may dwell in peace in the dark kingdom of Hades." Then he charged his servants to fetch him a bull from the herd, which might be given to the man who should conquer in the games, and they chose out one which Paris loved above all others that he drove out to pasture. So he followed the servants of Priam in grief and anger, and he stood forth and strove with his brethren in the games, and in all of them Paris was the conqueror. Then one of his brothers was moved with wrath, and lifted up his sword against him, but Paris fled to the altar of Zeus, and the voice of Cassandra, his sister, was heard saying, "O blind of eye and heart, see ye not that this is Paris, whom ye sent to sleep the sleep of death on woody Ida?"

But Paris would not dwell in the sacred Ilion, for he loved not those who sought to slay him while he was yet a helpless child, and again he tended the flocks on the wide plains and up the rough hillsides. Strong he was of limb and stout of heart, and his face shone with a marvelous beauty, so that they who saw it thought him fair as the bright heroes. There, as he wandered in the woody dells of Ida, he saw and wooed the beautiful Oenone, the child of the river-god, Kebren. Many a time he sat with the maiden by the side of the stream, and the sound of their voices was mingled with the soft murmur of the waters. He talked to her of love, and Oenone looked up with a wondrous joy into his beautiful face, when the morning dew glistened white upon the grass and when the evening star looked out upon the pale sky.

So was Paris wedded to Oenone, and the heart of the maiden was full of happiness, for none was braver or more gentle--none so stout of heart, so lithe of limb, so tender and loving as Paris. Thus passed the days away in a swift dream of joy, for Oenone thought not of the change that was coming.

There was feasting and mirth among the gods and men, for the brave Peleus had won Thetis, the maiden of the sea, for his bride; and she rose from the depths of her coral caves to go to his home in Phthia. The banquet was spread in his ancient hall, and the goblets sparkled with the dark wine, for all the gods had come down from Olympus to share the feast in the house of Peleus. Only Eris was not bidden, for she was the child of War and Hatred, and they feared to see her face in the hours of laughter and mirth; but her evil heart rested not till she found a way to avenge herself for the wrong which they had done to her.

The gods were listening to the song of Phoebus Apollo as he made sweet music on the strings of his harp, when a golden apple was cast upon the table before them. They knew not whence it came, only they saw that it was to be a gift for the fairest in that great throng, for so was it written on the apple. Then the joy of the feast was gone, and the music of the song ceased, for there was a strife which should have the golden prize; and Here, the Queen, said, "The gods themselves do obeisance to me when I enter the halls of Olympus, and men sing of the glory of my majesty; therefore must the gift be mine." But Athene answered, and said, "Knowledge and goodness are better things than power; mine is the worthier title." Then the fair Aphrodite lifted her white arm, and a smile of triumph passed over her face as she said, "I am the child of love and beauty, and the stars danced in the heaven for joy as I sprang from the sea foam; I dread not the contest, for to me alone must the golden gift be given."

So the strife waxed hot in the banquet hall, till Zeus spake with a loud voice, and said, "It needs not to strive now. Amid the pine forest of Ida dwells Paris, the fairest of the sons of men; let him be judge, and the apple shall be hers to whom he shall give it." Then Hermes rose and led them quickly over land and sea, to go to the rough hillside where Paris wooed and won Oenone.

Presently the messenger of Zeus stood before Paris, and said, "Fairest of the sons of men, there is strife among the undying gods, for Here and Aphrodite and Athene seek each to have the golden apple which must be given to her who is most fair. Judge thou, therefore, between them when they come, and give peace again to the halls of Zeus."

In a dream of joy and love Oenone sate by the river-side, and she looked on her own fair face, which was shown to her in a still calm pool where the power of the stream came not, and she said to herself, "The gods are kind, for they have given to me a better gift than that of beauty, for the love of Paris sheds for me a wondrous beauty over the heaven above and the broad earth beneath." Then came Paris, and said, "See, Oenone, dearest child of the bright waters, Zeus hath called me to be judge in a weighty matter. Hither are coming Here, the Queen, and Aphrodite and Athene, seeking each the golden apple which must be given to her alone who is the fairest. Yet go not away, Oenone; the broad vine leaves have covered our summer bower; there tarry and listen to the judgment, where none may see thee."

So Paris sat in judgment, and Here spake to him, and said, "I know I am the fairest, for none other has beauty and majesty like mine. Hearken, then, to me, and I will give thee power to do great deeds among the sons of men, and a name which the minstrels shall sing of among those who shall be born in long time to come." But Athene answered, "Heed not her words, O Paris. Thy hand is strong and thy heart is pure, and the men among whom thou dwellest honor thee even now because thou hast done them good. There are better things than power and high renown; and if thou wilt hearken to me, I will give thee wisdom and strength; and pure love shall be thine, and the memory of happy days when thou drawest near to the dark land of Hades."

Then Paris thought that he heard the voice of Oenone, and it seemed to whisper to him, "Wisdom and right are better than power, give it to Athene." But Aphrodite gazed upon him with laughing eyes, as she came up closer to his side. Her dark curls fell waving over his shoulder, and he felt the breath from her rosy lips, as she laid her hand on his arm and whispered softly in his ear, "I talk not to thee of my beauty, for it may be thou seest that I am very fair, but hearken to me, and I will give thee for thy wife the fairest of all the daughters of men." But Paris answered, "I need not thy gift, O child of the bright sea foam, for fairer wife than Oenone no mortal man may hope to have. Yet art thou the fairest of all the daughters of the undying gods, and the gift of the fairest is thine."

So he placed the golden apple in the palm of her snow-white hand, and the touch of her slender fingers thrilled through the heart of Paris as she parted from him with smiling lip and laughing eye. But Here, the Queen, and Athene, the virgin child of Zeus, went away displeased, and evermore their wrath lay heavy on the city and land of Ilion.

Then went Paris to Oenone, and he twined his arms around her and said, "Didst thou see the dark countenance of the lady Here when I gave to the fairest the gift which the fairest alone may have? Yet what care I for the wrath of Here and Athene? One smile from the lips of Aphrodite is better than their favor for a whole life long." But Oenone answered sadly, "I would that thou mayest speak truly, Paris; yet in my eyes the lady Athene is fairer far, and Aphrodite is ever false as fair." Then Paris clasped her closer in his arms and kissed her pale cheek, and said nothing.

[Illustration: LIBRARY OF HERCULANEUM.]

But the fierce wrath of Eris was not ended yet. Far away in the western land, there was sore famine in the kingdom of the mighty Menelaus, the people died by the wayside, and the warriors had no strength to go forth to the battle or the huntsmen to the chase. Many times they sought to know the will of the gods, but they heard only dark words for answers, till Phoebus Apollo said that the famine should never cease from the land until they brought from Ilion the bones of the children of Prometheus, whom Zeus bound on the desolate crags of Caucasus. So Menelaus, the King, departed from his home and went to the city of Priam. There he saw the beautiful Paris, and took him to the Spartan land, for he said that Paris should return home rich and wealthy. So Paris believed his words, and sailed with him over the wide sea. Long time he abode in Sparta, and day by day he saw the lady Helen in the halls of Menelaus. At the first he thought within himself, "I would that Oenone were here to see the wife of Menelaus, for surely she is fairer than aught else on the earth." But soon he thought less and less of Oenone, who was sorrowing for his long sojourn in the strange land, as she wandered amid the pine forests of woody Ida.

Quickly sped the days for Paris, for his heart was filled with a strange love, and the will of Eris was being accomplished within him. He thought not of Oenone and her lonely wanderings on heathy Ida; he cared not for the kindly deeds of Menelaus; and so it came to pass that, when Menelaus was far away, Paris spoke words of evil love to Helen and beguiled her to leave her home. Stealthily they fled away, and sailed over the sea till they came to the Ilion land; and Helen dwelt with Paris in the house of his father, Priam.

But Oenone mourned for the love which she had lost, and her tears fell into the gentle stream of Kebren as she sat on its grassy banks. "Ah me," she said, "my love hath been stung by Aphrodite. O Paris, Paris! hast thou forgotten all thy words? Here thine arms were clasped around me, and here, as thy lips were pressed to mine, thou didst say that the wide earth had for thee no living thing so fair as Oenone. Sure am I that Helen hath brought to thee only a false joy; for her heart is not thine as the heart of a maiden when it is given to her first love; and sure am I, too, that Helen is not a fairer wife than I, for my heart is all thine, and the beauty of woman is marred when she yields herself to a lawless love. But the cloud is gathering round thee; and I am sprung from the race of the gods, and mine eyes are opened to behold the things that willingly I would not see. I see the waters black with ships, and the hosts of the Achaians gathered round the walls of Ilion. I see the moons roll round, while thy people strive in vain against the wrath of Here and the might of the son of Peleus; and far away I see the flames that shall burn the sacred Ilion. I see thy father smitten down in his own hall, and the spear that shall drink thy life-blood. Ah me! for the doom that is coming, and for the pleasant days when we loved and wandered among the dells of Ida."

So Paris dwelt with Helen in the house of Priam; but men said, "This is no more the brave Alexandros," for he lay at ease on silken couches, and his spear and shield hung idle on the wall. For him the wine sparkled in the goblet while the sun rose high in the heavens, and he cared only to listen to the voice of Helen, or the minstrels who sang of the love and the bowers of laughter-loving Aphrodite. And Helen sat by his side in sullen mood, for she thought of the former days and of the evil which she had done to the good King Menelaus. Then there came into her heart a deep hatred for Paris, and she loathed him for his false words and his fond looks, as he lay quaffing the wine and taking his rest by day and by night upon the silken couches.

But throughout the streets of Ilion there was hurrying and shouting of armed men, and terror and cries of women and children; for the hosts of the Achaians were come to take vengeance for the wrongs of Menelaus. Yet Paris heeded not the prayers of his brethren, that he should send back Helen; so she tarried by his side in his gilded chambers, and he went not forth to the battle, till all men reviled him for his evil love, because he had forsaken the fair Oenone.

So for Paris fell the mighty Hector; for him died the brave Sarpedon; and the women of Ilion mourned for their husbands who were smitten down by the Achaian warriors. Fiercer and fiercer grew the strife, for Here and Athene fought against the men of Troy, and no help came from the laughter-loving Aphrodite.

Many times the years went round, while yet the Achaians strove to take the city of Priam, till at last for very shame Paris took from the wall his spear and shield, and went forth to the battle, but the strength of his heart and of his arm was gone, and he trembled at the fierce war-cries, as a child trembles at the roaring of the storm. Then before the walls of Ilion there was fiercer strife, and the bodies of the slain lay in heaps upon the battle plain. Faint and weary, the people of Priam were shut up within the walls, until the Achaians burst into the gates and gave the city to sword and flame. Then the cry of men and women went up to the high heaven, and the blood ran in streams upon the ground. With a mighty blaze rose up the flames of the burning city, and the dream of Paris was ended.

Fast he fled from the wrath of Menelaus, and he cared not to look back on the Argive Helen or the slaughter of his kinsfolk and his people. But the arrow of Philoctetes came hissing through the air, and the barb was fixed in the side of Paris. Hastily he drew it from the wound, but the weapons of Herakles failed not to do their work, and the poison sped through his burning veins. Onwards he hastened to the pine forests of Ida, but his limbs trembled beneath him, and he sank down as he drew nigh to the grassy bank where he had tended his flocks in the former days. "Ah, Oenone," he said, "the evil dream is over, and thy voice comes back to mine ear, soft and loving as when I wooed and won thee among the dells of Ida. Thou hearest me not, Oenone, or else I know that, forgiving all the wrong, thou wouldst hasten to help me."

And even as he spoke Oenone stood before him, fair and beautiful as in the days that were past. The glory as of the pure evening time was shed upon her face, and her eye glistened with the light of an undying love. Then she laid her hand upon him and said, gently, "Dost thou know me, Paris? I am the same Oenone whom thou didst woo in the dells of woody Ida. My grief hath not changed me, but thou art not the same, O Paris, for thy love hath wandered far away, and thou hast yielded thyself long to an evil dream." But Paris said, "I have wronged thee, Oenone, fairest and sweetest, and what may atone for the wrong? The fire burns in my veins, my head reels, and mine eye is dim; look but upon me once, that thinking on our ancient love, I may fall asleep and die."

Then Oenone knelt by the side of Paris, and saw the wound which the arrow of Philoctetes had made; but soon she knew that neither gods nor men could stay the poison with which Herakles had steeped his mighty weapons. There she knelt, but Paris spoke not more. The coldness of death passed over him as Oenone looked down upon his face and thought of the days when they lived and loved amid the dells of Ida.

Long time she knelt by his side, until the stars looked forth in the sky. Then Oenone said, "O Eris, well hast thou worked thy will, and well hath Aphrodite done thy bidding. O Paris, we have loved and suffered, but I never did thee wrong, and now I follow thee to the dark land of Hades."

Presently the flame shot up to heaven from the funeral pile of Paris, and Oenone lay down to rest on the fiery couch by his side.

ACHILLES.

Nine years the Achaians had fought against Ilion to avenge the wrongs and woes of Helen, and still the war went on, and only the words of Kalchas, which he spoke long ago in Aulis, cheered them with the hope that the day of vengeance was near at hand. For strife had arisen between the King, Agamemnon, and the mighty son of Peleus, and it seemed to the men of Argos that all their toil must be for naught. In fierce anger Achilles vowed a vow that he would go forth no more to the battle, and he sat in sullen silence within his tent, or wandered gloomily along the sea-shore. With fresh courage the hosts of the Trojans poured out from their walls when they knew that Achilles fought no more on the side of the Achaians, and the chieftains sought in vain for his help when the battle went against them. Then the face of the war was changed, for the men of Ilion came forth from their city, and shut up the Achaians within their camp, and fought fiercely to take the ships. Many a chief and warrior was smitten down, and still Achilles sat within his tent, nursing his great wrath, and reviling all who came before him with gifts and prayers.

But dearer than all others to the child of the sea-nymph, Thetis, was Patroclus, the son of Menoetius, and the heart of Achilles was touched with pity when he saw the tears stream down his face, and he said, "Dear friend, tell me thy grief, and hide nothing from me. Hast thou evil tidings from our home at Phthia, or weepest thou for the troubles which vex us here?" Then Patroclus spoke out boldly, and said, "Be not angry at my words, Achilles. The strength of the Argives is wasted away, and the mightiest of their chieftains lie wounded or dead around their ships. They call thee the child of Peleus and of Thetis, but men will say that thou art sprung from the rugged rocks and the barren sea, if thou seest thy people undone and liftest not an arm to help them." Then Achilles answered, "My friend, the vow is on me, and I can not go, but put thou on my armor and go forth to the battle. Only take heed to my words, and go not in my chariot against the City of Ilion. Drive our enemies from the ships, and let them fight in the plain, and then do thou come back to my tent."

Then the hearts of the Achaians were cheered, for next to Achilles there was not in all the host a warrior more brave and mighty than Patroclus. At his word the Myrmidons started up from their long rest, and hastily snatched their arms to follow him to the battle. Presently Patroclus came forth. The glistening helmet of Achilles was on his head, and his armor was girt around his body. Only he bore not his mighty spear, for no mortal man might wield that spear in battle but Achilles. Before the tent stood the chariot, and harnessed to it were the horses, Xanthos and Balios, who grow not old nor die.

So Patroclus departed for the fight, and Achilles went into his tent, and as he poured out the dark wine from a golden goblet, he prayed to Zeus, and said, "O thou that dwellest far away in Dodona, where the Selloi do thy bidding and proclaim thy will, give strength and victory to Patroclus, my friend. Let him drive the men of Ilion from the ships and come back safe to me after the battle." But Zeus heard the prayer in part only, for the doom was that Achilles should see Patroclus alive no more.

Then the hosts of the Trojans trembled as Patroclus drew nigh on the chariot of Achilles, and none dared to go forth against him. Onward sped the undying horses, and wherever they went the ground was red with the blood of the Trojans who were smitten down by his spear. Then Sarpedon, the great chief of the Lykians, spake to Glaucus, and said, "O friend, I must go forth and do battle with Patroclus. The people fall beneath his sword, and it is not fit that the chieftains should be backward in the strife." But the doom of Sarpedon was sealed, and presently his body lay lifeless on the ground, while the men of Argos and of Ilion fought for his glittering arms.

Then the doom came on Patroclus also, for Phoebus Apollo fought against him in the battle, and in the dust was rolled the helmet which no enemy had touched when it rested on the head of Achilles. Before him flashed the spear of Hector, as he said, "The hour of thy death is come, Patroclus, and the aid of Achilles can not reach thee now." But Patroclus said only, "It is thy time for boasting now; wait yet a little while, and the sword of Achilles shall drink thy life-blood."