Of the Helpers that Came to King Priam

DURING nine days of the truce their foes had granted, the Trojans busied themselves in preparing funeral honours worthy of him who was their best and bravest. Day by day the men folk toiled on the steeps of woody Ida, hewing down the tallest pines, which were dragged to the city by endless trains of mules and oxen, and built into a huge foursquare pyre without the landward gate. Meantime all Troy resounded with the wailing of the women for their great prince's fall, and the palace courts rang night and day with the shrill sound of dirges chanted to the flute. But in the stately room of painted cedarwood that had been Hector's marriage-chamber, old Priam sat like a graven image by his son's bier; the royal purple mantle, torn and besmirched with ashes of the hearth in the first transports of sorrow, drawn over his bowed head; and in that presence, the other watchers hushed their clamorous grief. Queen Hecuba was there with her daughters, and Hector's gentle wife, Andromache, and the wives of his brethren; all robed in black, their long hair hanging rent and dishevelled after the custom of mourners. And while they kept vigil, now one, now another would croon her lament over the departed, calling to remembrance his gracious ways and all that he had been to her as brother, or husband, or son. But none of the Trojan dames made tenderer moan for him than the stranger within their gates whose ill-starred beauty was the cause of all this woe; Helen, more lovely in her tears, took up the theme last of all, and with sweet, faltering accents praised the generous heart that had welcomed her as a sister—the noble courtesy that forbore even a few reproachful look, when others spared not to chide her openly for bringing war on Troy.

On the tenth morn of the truce, dead Hector was carried out to his burning; they laid him on the summit of the lofty pyre, and all about him princes and people heaped their offerings; spices and nard and precious balsams; jars of sweet oil and of honey; raiment of needlework and tapestries of rare device; and over his feet, like a lustrous coverlet, were spread the tresses that maids and matrons had shorn off for a last tribute to the well-beloved of his folk. Priam himself held the torch to the pyre; and all the people watched in solemn silence while the flames roared aloft, fanned by a breeze from the sea, burning many-hued with the richness of pine-sap, of unguents and frankincense. All day the mighty pyre blazed in the sunlight, all night its red glare lit the sky; next dawn, its sinking embers were quenched with streams of wine and careful hands gathered the bones of Hector in a golden coffer. Then his kinsmen shrouded the coffer in veils of broidered purple and laid it in the grave prepared, with the arms and jewelled ornaments of the dead.

Now while they heaped a mound above the grave, the Trojans descried a cloud of dust, wherein spearheads glinted, scudding over the plain from the northward; and fear took them that the Greeks had broken the truce and made circuit of the city to fall on them unawares. But as the cloud rolled nearer with thunder of horse-hoofs, a bugle horn blew piercing notes; and Priam cried, "I should know that blast! It is the war-call of the Amazons, against whom I fought with our Phrygian allies in my youth. Alas, what make they here?"

Even as he spoke, a long troop of riders came full in view, mounted on small, nimble horses, arrayed in caps and vests of fur, and armed with javelins, bows and battle-axes. And the Trojans stared amazedly on these warriors, for they were women all. Right on they came, but suddenly drew rein and halted, while their leader, a slender, black-haired girl, advanced alone, flinging down her weapons in sign of amity. "Which is the King of Troy?" she cried in a ringing voice, and looked about her like one that is more used to command than entreat reply. At that, Priam stepped forward, beckoning with his hand, and asked her what she would with him.

"King," said the girl, "I am Penthesilea, Queen of the Amazons, come with these my warriors to help you against the Greeks, our mortal enemies. It cannot be unknown to you what cause we have to hate that race of robbers. Was not Heracles a Greek, that spoiled our former queen, Hippolyta, of her royal girdle, to pleasure the king he served? Did not Theseus of Athens carry off her young sister by violence, and slay the flower of us in battle when we marched on his city to recover her? Now, therefore, we have journeyed from our homes by the Northern Sea to fight against your foes and ours."

When Priam heard that, he was glad, well knowing the prowess of that woman-tribe, and he offered them hospitality; but they would not be lodged in Troy; for it is a law of the Amazons to dwell apart from men and have no dealings with them, save of necessity. Nay, though they take husbands among neighbouring tribes that their race may continue, they will not suffer them to come into the Amazon country, but visit them in their own; and all male children born to them they send away to the fathers, but the girls they train up in the ways of warriors. So the Trojans built a camp for these strange allies outside the walls, and furnished it with good store of all things needful both for them and their horses.

Then, the days of truce being ended, the Greeks marched yet again to assault the city, trusting to make short work now Hector, its prop and defence, was fallen. But to their no small wonder, they saw the whole Trojan array sally boldly forth to give them battle. Each marshalled in three divisions, the two armies were drawn up front to front, the chiefs of either side, and their wealthier vassals, mounted on chariots and conspicuous in shining armour; the mixed multitude of their followers on foot, diversely armed with spears, slings or bows. And the Greeks waxed yet more confident of victory as they marked how sorely the Trojan battalions had been thinned by that day of slaughter wherewith Achilles avenged his Patroclus.

But scarcely was the battle joined, when the left wing of the Greeks was assailed in flank by a sudden charge of horse and an arrow-shower that darkened the air. It was as if some barbarian horde had sprung out of the ground, or dropped from the sky upon them, so lightning-swift was the onset of the new foes; so uncouth their aspect, and their fierce, shrill cries, like the clamouring of sea-gulls. In the first shock of encounter the Greeks saw but a confused vision of strangely-garbed horsemen, with long locks streaming, that fought like things possessed; charging, turning, wheeling, as though of one piece with the small, fiery beasts they bestrode; letting fly their arrows in clouds, dealing deadly strokes with their bright axes, or stabbing at men's faces with their javelins. Thus harassed, and unmanned by a panic terror of these inexplicable beings as perhaps other than human, the Greek ranks wavered, broke and fled. In vain Diomed and Odysseus, their leaders, strove to rally them by dint of threats and entreaties; in vain beat off the foe awhile, almost alone; both chiefs were soon disabled by arrow-wounds, and forced to turn their chariots in flight with the rest. Well was it for them that day, that their charioteers were skilful and their horses swift; else had they never won alive out of the surging flood of pursuers and pursued.

Now while the Amazons thus drove one Greek battalion off the field, the Trojans pressed hard on the other twain; and Agamemnon, commanding the midmost, saw his flank wellnigh hemmed in by the right wing of the enemy. "Hearken, Antilochus," he cried to Nestor's eldest son, "speed to our southward battle—there find Achilles, and bid him come amain, for Diomed and Odysseus are put to flight, and unless he succour us here, the day is lost." Then furiously drove young Antilochus through the mellay to where Achilles fought at the head of his clansmen; like corn before the sickle the Trojans were falling before the massy spear that none but he could wield. When the son of Peleus heard the message, he spoke never a word, but gave his charioteer the sign, and forthwith the noble horses he loved so well bore him like a thunderbolt through the fray to Agamemnon's side. Antilochus galloped after, and on their track came the flower of the great Myrmidon clan that Peleus ruled, doughty spearmen all. Then joyously shouted the Greeks, and with one rush they bore back the struggling ranks of Troy the length of a javelin-cast. But old Nestor, glancing heedfully all about him, spied the Amazons returning at full speed, and cried aloud, "Halt, friends, halt and 'ware surprise! The horsemen that routed our comrades be upon us to rearward!" At that, Achilles wheeled about and dashed to the rear, with Antilochus and seven chieftains more; the Amazons rode close up, but when they saw the line of chariots fronting them, they drew off and halted at a distance, biding their time. For they fought after the barbarian manner, by brisk skirmishing and sudden onslaughts, and were too lightly horsed and accoutred to attack heavy-armed troops in open field, unless by ambush or surprise.

But when Achilles and the chiefs with him had seen these vanquishers of their comrades face to face, they held their peace awhile for very amazement; then he cried with a bitter laugh, "Was it from these ye fled, gallant Diomed, wise Odysseus? O cowards, hearts of deer, shame of the Greeks, have you run from women?" 

Meanwhile by Nestor's counsel Agamemnon bade his host close their ranks and retire, still fronting the foe; since the rout of a third of their number had made it fruitless to persevere in the assault that day. Achilles was hardly persuaded to retreat, for he burned to wipe out the foul disgrace of his countrymen; but he yielded to the earnest admonishing of Nestor, whom he reverenced, and the pleading of Antilochus, whom he loved best of all men after Patroclus. Not less loth was Ajax, son of Telamon, than whom none more stubbornly held his ground against the Trojan onset; like a wave-beaten rock he had stood in the forefront of the battle, his great shield planted rampart-wise before him, laying about him with his broadsword as a sturdy thresher plies his flail. Sullenly he obeyed Agamemnon's hest, and slowly retreated in the rear-guard; growling as he went, and casting many a grim look behind, like a lion that herdsmen can scarce drive off with their darts and firebrands from the carcase of the ox he has slain.

So the host withdrew to the camp, none molesting them; and all the way they went was strewn with the bodies of Greeks; for the Amazons give no quarter and hold no prisoners to ransom, but kill the wounded where they lie. Agamemnon bade take up these dead, and bring them to camp for burial, and so it was done; although Achilles would have had them left to dogs and vultures as cravens that deserved no better fate. But little moan was made for them, and neither cairn nor mound marked their unhonored graves. As for those that escaped, shame and confusion of face was their portion when they learned from what manner of foes they had fled. But seeing them much discomfited and all the host in great dejection of mind, Nestor stood forth and made oration in these words:—

"King Agamemnon, princes, captains, and warriors all, give ear to an old man's counsel, that knew chances of war both foul and fair long ere any of you saw the light. It you will be guided by me, neither those who fled this day must be overmuch cast down, nor the rest bear them malice as having lost the field through their faint-heartedness. For when by the will of Zeus a panic terror seizes on men in battle, even heroes, the seed of gods, do flee apace. Thus it fared of old with Amphiaraus, best of warriors and best of seers, what time he made one of the Seven Champions that beleaguered seven-gated Thebes. Sorely their emprise misliked him, for by clear omens he read the end thereof; but he went perforce, bound by a covenant made aforetime. And when the ruin he foreknew overtook all his company, and they fled headlong before the Thebans, that mighty hero fled likewise—yea, he had died by a spear-thrust in the back, but that Zeus, to spare his upright soul dishonour, caused the earth to open and swallow him. Thus, I say, it was with Amphiaraus, and with many another of his godlike generation—men these old eyes have seen, but their like none sees now, nor shall again. What marvel, then, if the men of to-day, weaklings by comparison, cannot abide in the hour of heaven-sent fear? Nay, let us think no more of this mischance, for another day shall make it good, when Zeus so wills; he it is that setteth up and pulleth down, making the valiant to quail and the timorous to wax lion-hearted; to-day he exalts the Trojans, but to-morrow he may humble them in their turn. For so he ever deals with mortals, lest they boast themselves victors and conquerors by their own strength, not ascribing him the glory."

Then said Achilles: "Much-honoured Nestor, sage and timely is the counsel you give us, now as always. Let us count past things as past—yet bear with me if I say that you have not probed the wound you would heal. In my breast at least, this is what rankles—not that Greeks have fled, but that they fled a rabble of that puny breed who are the weaker, worser half of humankind."

At these words Ajax son of Telamon shook his great sides with laughing. "Achilles," he said, "it is well seen you are no woman's son, but born of a goddess, by the scorn you ever show for all women and their ways. I think you would not have chosen to mate with golden Helen herself; nay, I have heard you say as much, and that he who takes a wife takes black Care under his roof-tree. But let me tell you this for your comfort—if I guess right, better men than we have found their match in these same women-warriors we saw to-day. Heard you never of a tribe of such, who are called the Amazons?"

"Not I," answered Achilles, but several of the elder chiefs nodded their heads, and Nestor said, "I see, Ajax, whither your thoughts tend, and, my life upon it, you have hit the mark. But say on, for your father's son has the best right of all here to instruct us in this matter."

"It was indeed from my father," replied Ajax, "that I learned what I know of the Amazons. No skill of words have I, but I will make shift to tell the tale he has told me. But first let us visit the wounded Diomed and Odysseus in their tents, and let us take our sea-bath and supper on the beach as our wont is; for tales that delight a full man are small pleasure to it fasting."

Now Diomed and Odysseus were in more pain than danger from their arrow-wounds, thanks to the tendance they had from the wise Machaon and his brother, physicians of the host and sons to the great Asclepius; the two chiefs were able to share the evening feast with the rest, and when all had well eaten and drunk, Ajax began his tale.

The Adventure of Heracles among the Amazons

When Telamon espoused my lady mother, and held his marriage feast in our isle of Salamis, great Heracles came to him; not a bidden guest, for he had been wandering afar, but dearly welcome as a friend tried and true. Now he came seeking a comrade to make war with him on this very city we are beleaguering. For the King of Troy that then was, even Laomedon, Priam's father, had basely cozened Heracles of his due. This Laomedon, it seems, was a defrauder not of men only, but of gods; once upon a time, Apollo and Poseidon did offence to King Zeus, and their penance was, to become hirelings of a mortal for a year; so they came in the guise of labourers to Troy, and agreed with Laomedon to build a wall round about his city. But when it was built, he denied the two gods their wages, little dreaming who they were, and threatened them with death if they did not instantly quit his borders. Then the wrathful Poseidon made the sea overflow all Troy plain, and with the flood he sent a fearsome sea-beast, which devoured men and cattle. And an oracle declared that Troy should never be rid of that monster until the king's daughter were given to it for prey. But Heracles, as he journeyed, came in the nick of time to Troy; Laomedon promised him whatsoever reward he might choose, to save the princess; and forthwith he slew the monster with his invincible bow. Heracles asked for reward two horses of the wondrous breed that the gods gave to Trojan kings of old; but Laomedon, filling up the measure of his iniquity, denied his promise yet again, and drove his helper away with insult.

All this Heracles told my father; "And now, Telamon," said he, "I am bound for Eastern lands once more, on the errand of King Eurystheus. With you and your men to aid, I had thought to land at Troy on my way and teach Laomedon the lesson he needs; but since I find you newly wedded, that must not be."

But for nothing in the world would Telamon forego an adventure in the company of glorious Heracles; he took leave of his bride, manned all his ships of war, and soon the two friends landed on this self-same spot where now we are encamped. Six ships' crews had they, and no more; but with these they overcame Laomedon and all his folk, burst a way through Troy wall, and slew the treacherous king on his own threshold. Then they sent home the ships, laden with spoil and captives, and Heracles prayed Telamon to return likewise; but he would not, being utterly purposed to share his friend's next quest. And that was, to fetch the girdle of the Queen of the Amazons.

For, as all men know, Heracles served his kinsman, King Eurystheus of Argos, twelve years, by ordinance of Fate; and in each year that king sent him on some perilous quest; hoping to rid himself of a man he feared and hated, as the base and cowardly ever hate the noble in soul. Now the daughter of Eurystheus, hearing that the Amazon Queen wore the most splendid golden girdle in the world, begged her father to send Heracles to get it for her; so Eurystheus set him that task, being the ninth of those he laid upon him.

Long and toilsome was the road the two comrades now traversed; and when they came to the Amazon country, some of the warrior-women met them and bade them turn back; but Heracles by his noble mien and winning words prevailed with those sentinels to conduct him before their queen. And being brought to the great village in a forest where she dwelt, he made known his name and his comrade's to this queen, who was called Hippolyta. Rumour said she was a daughter of Ares, the War-god, and when the heroes looked on her they could well believe it, so fair and terrible was her aspect. Now she had heard the fame of Heracles, and often longed to behold him; so she was right fain of his coming and fell straightway to questioning him concerning his adventures and the marvels he had seen in wandering by land and sea. Heracles never loved to speak of his own mighty deeds, but for once he might not refuse; when the Queen had well feasted her guests they took place beside her at the hearth, and Heracles began the story of his travels, she listening eagerly as a child. Ay, Telamon is wont to say he will remember that scene to his latest hour; the long, low hall of rough-hewn timbers, all hung with bright weapons and spoils of the chase; a great fire of beech-logs in the midst; the women guards standing silently round; and that strange Queen leaning from her deerskin couch, with shining eyes fixed on the great wanderer's face.

As for Heracles, he sat there merry and at ease, like one at home; that was ever his way, whether he housed with king or churl, kindly Greeks or the wildest races of earth. And he spoke haltingly at first, but kindled presently at the memory of wonders seen and dangers passed, so that to hear him tell of them was a pleasure gods might covet. At last, when they had sat long and late, he pleaded drowsiness; and the Queen said, "Sleep, then, here by the hearth, and tomorrow you shall tell me more." So the comrades slept in her hall, bedded soft and warm on piled skins of wolf and bear. On the morrow, Heracles avowed his errand to her, and boldly asked the girdle as a guest-gift; but the Queen only smiled and said, "We will talk of that when I have heard the rest of your adventures. Meanwhile, I go hunting, and you and your comrade shall come with me."

In this manner she put him off day by day, until she had heard all that ever he did. But before all was told, he had found such favour in her sight that she bestowed the girdle on him of her own free will. This she did secretly; for that girdle was a divine and sacred thing, the gift of Ares himself to his daughter, and the symbol of her queenship. It was also a most potent warcharm, and held in deepest reverence by the Amazons as the Luck of their race. So the Queen durst not let it be known that she had parted with it for love of a stranger; but coming late in the night to Heracles where he lay sleeping, she bade him unclasp the precious zone—which she wore continually—with his own hands.

Now Telamon says that she asked and received of Heracles a token in return, but what it was he leaves out of his tale. Presently the Queen aroused him also, and with stealth and silence led the two comrades forth of her dwelling by a postern that opened on the forest; then she took farewell of both and charged them to make all speed out of the land, for the Amazons must believe that they had robbed her of the girdle while she slept.

"What, fair Queen," said Heracles, smiling, "and you neither woke nor cried a rescue? Will they credit such a tale as that on your bare word?"

"No," she said, looking at him strangely, "but they shall have a proof they cannot doubt. Farewell, my lord, since farewell it must be—nay, linger not another instant—go, go, and may all the gods of your far homeland have you in their keeping."

With that she was gone, and the comrades set out at their best speed, making due south by the guiding light of Orion, the Heavenly Huntsman. Three nights and three days they journeyed, snatching brief rest now and again in recesses of the woods; about noon of the third day they came out of the forest region upon a wide, grassy plain; and when they were midway across it, they heard a great hue and cry behind them. Looking back, they saw a bevy of riders advancing at the gallop, and knew that a band of the Amazons had somehow lighted on their track.

"How shall we do now?" quoth Telamon.

Heracles shaded his eyes with his hand and scanned, first the pursuers, next the plain on all sides. "We must e'en run for it," he answered; "away to the right I see a low building—some shrine or tomb, belike; there we can make a stand—here there is not so much as a tree-stump to set our backs against."

So saying, he began to run like any deer. Now Telamon, though he followed, had shame of this action; and when they had gained the building, which proved to be a small, ruined temple of stone, he panted out, "Little I thought ever to see the greatest of warriors run from a few score women." But Heracles laughed and said, "The greatest of warriors, were he not also the greatest of fools, would run from a few score angry bees, and trust me, yonder swarm hath stings far deadlier. For my part, could I outrun their tireless horses I would have fled outright; less shame I count it to fly women than to fight them; but I fear me these will give us no choice but to slay or be slain."

And that was a true word; for in another instant the Amazons were upon them, and of the fight that then began, Telamon, who bears the mark thereof to this day, saw never the like in his lifetime of warfare. The temple, being ruinous as I said, gave the comrades no better protection than that of a yet standing side-wall, which served to guard their rear; but the approach in front was difficult to riders because the sacred precinct was still partly fenced in by a stockade, and the ground about it was marshy and broken. The Amazons no sooner saw this than they leaped from their horses and rushed to the attack on foot, uttering cries of rage scarce human. There were perhaps not twoscore of them, for they were but one of the many bands scouring the country in search of Heracles; and he, as all the world knows, was singly a match for fifty men in his god-given strength; yet now, with Telamon to aid, he was well-nigh overborne by the sheer fury of those assailants. It seemed they knew their arrows and light javelins would rebound harmless from his enchanted lion-skin and Telamon's broad shield, or maybe they were too frantic to take aim; at least they plied only their battle-axes, and did so to such purpose that the heroes, who at first merely strove to parry their blows, must soon fight for the dear life. Even then, Heracles, as I tell you, was sore bested; as for Telamon, an axe hurled at his head clove through helm and scalp and laid him stunned at his comrade's feet. Ah, then did the divine anger, that being kindled turns to flame the blood of those who are sprung from the Immortals, blaze forth in Heracles; then came one of those dread moments when he seemed no longer man, but a destroying god. Telamon knew that, as soon as his senses returned to him; for behold, Heracles and he were alone with the dead. Heracles had bound his wound, and was laving his face with water he had fetched in the broken helm. "They have fled, then?" he asked, raising himself and looking mistily round him.

"Not one of them," answered Heracles, with a sob; and sitting down, hid his face in his hands. . .

Before the comrades left that spot, they laid the dead Amazons in one long grave beside the ruined shrine, and their arms also; and though there was danger in tarrying, Heracles toiled until nightfall to raise an earthen barrow over the grave and set thereon a fallen pillar of the temple; for a memorial, as he said, to warriors the most fearless of all that ever he encountered. Now he had thought to catch two of the Amazons' horses for himself and Telamon; for, whether by training or instinct, they all stood like so many statues where their riders left them throughout the fight—yes, and until they saw the earth heaped over the slain; but then with shrill, mournful whinnyings the creatures formed in squadrons and galloped out of sight. So the comrades went their way on foot as before, and came each to his home at last, not without braving further perils; but here ends the tale of their adventure among the Amazons, as my father told it me.

Yet one thing, the which he learned not until long after, I have nigh forgotten to tell of, though to my mind it is the strangest of all. The Amazons pursued after Heracles and Telamon not only to recover the sacred girdle, but to avenge, as they thought, the murder of Hippolyta, whom they had found lying dead, with a dagger through her heart. That  was the proof of her having been robbed which the wild Queen told Heracles she would give her people; and so she saved her honour; as for her life, it seems she recked little of that, after she knew she must let him go, and see his face no more.

None listened more attentively to this recital than Achilles. "By Zeus who is Lord of Dodona," he exclaimed when Ajax had made an end, "I marvel that Heracles found it in his heart to leave this Amazon Queen, for he could not but see what manner of spirit she was of. Such a woman was fit mate for a hero, and worthy to be the mother of his children."

"Heracles," said old Nestor, gravely, "had already taken the wife his parents chose for him, as it becomes a duteous son to do."

"Why, how now, Achilles," said Odysseus jestingly, "do you recant already that opinion of women, and of those who suffer defeat from them, which I am told you lately uttered with some harshness? We shall hear next that you have captured and married some fair Amazon, in hopes she may prove a second Hippolyta; for, unlike Heracles, the son of Peleus is not  bound to a wife of his father's choosing."

There was little love lost between Achilles and Odysseus at any time, so opposite were their natures; and at these words, in which he spied a taunt unmarked by the rest, Achilles flushed from brow to throat with anger, and laid hand on his sword-hilt. But King Agamemnon rising at the same instant and drawing Odysseus aside as for some private conference, he seemed to recollect himself on a sudden, and check the wrathful answer that rose to his lips. The assembly now broke up, and all the host, except the sentinels at their posts, were soon wrapped in welcome slumber.

Next morning at daybreak, King Agamemnon called his council together to debate how best they might repair the failure of yesterday's assault; and when this was determined, they marched on the city in the same order as before. And as before, the Trojans came out and gave them battle, and the Amazons made onslaught—falling this time upon the right wing of the Greeks, where fought the Myrmidons. But this time the women-warriors were surprised in their turn. For Achilles had divided his forces, and with the one half he himself remained in the rear of the host until the battle joined. And no sooner had the Amazons swooped on the Greek right, than the rattle of chariot wheels sounded behind them; the terrible war-cry of Achilles rang like a trumpet in their ears; and they found themselves ringed about by a wall of levelled lances. From that arena of death there was no escape; but flight was not in their thoughts; savagely as the wolf they fought at bay—until that happened which gave both Greeks and Amazons pause awhile.

Achilles had leaped from his chariot and forced his way through the thick of the fight to Penthesilea, whose broad, glittering girdle proclaimed her the Amazon Queen. "Yield, warrior maid," he cried, seizing her bridle-rein, "yield yourself prisoner to Achilles." For all reply, Penthesilea leaned from her horse and dealt him with her battle-axe a blow on the helm that would have cleft it in twain, had it not been of heavenly metal. And with that, the two began a combat whereon all around paused to look, as drawn by a spell; nor was it any marvel that so strange and deadly an encounter between creatures so beautiful should hold breathless all who witnessed it, even in the heat of battle. But a marvel it was to see how the beauty of each—golden-haired youth and dark-eyed maiden—was lighted up by their passion of rage as by clear flame. For a few moments, they seemed not unequally matched; such the dexterity of the Amazon to strike and to avoid blows, and so gallant an ally was the yellow horse she rode, who reared and struck out furiously with his hoofs. But Achilles, keeping hold on the bridle with his left hand, by sheer strength forced the steed backward on his haunches until he rolled over with his rider. Penthesilea leapt lightly to her feet, plucked a dagger from her side, and sprang right at Achilles' face, like a wounded wildcat; his great sword flashed and fell—and all was over.

When the Amazons saw their Queen was dead they threw down their weapons, and fell to wailing, beating their breasts and tearing their hair, as though lost to all sense of their own desperate plight. The Myrmidon spearmen, startled by this unexampled demeanour, hung motionless for an instant; before they could recover themselves, Achilles sent his voice thundering over the field, far-heard above the din of battle—"A truce, sons of the Greeks! A truce, men of Troy! Achilles demands parley with the foe!"

Then straightway Greeks and Trojans drew their ranks apart, and stood wondering; and into the bloodstained space between stepped Achilles, bearing Penthesilea in his arms. He had wrapped the dead maiden in his own cloak of scarlet; her wax-white face was already peaceful; her dusky hair, loosened from its coronal by her fall from horseback, streamed over his shoulder almost to the ground. And in that clarion voice that the Trojans had so often quaked to hear, he said to them, "Warriors of Troy, let us stay the fight this day, that we may do honour to one who was the bravest of us all. Behold her here—your Amazon ally, slain by my hand. And you, King Agamemnon, wise Nestor, and all my comrades, look on her likewise; for I say to you that of the thousand souls I have sent to the House of Hades, this maiden's only have I known for the peer of mine. Now methinks she had such a death as she herself would have desired; and I am fain to add thereto one honour more. Therefore let either side keep truce until to-morrow's sunrise, and let friends and foes unite to give her burial with the pomp befitting a warrior and a queen."

Glad enough were the Trojans to have respite from battle, but the Greek princes murmured against Achilles, saying he was clean casting away the vantage won by his overthrow of the Wild Women. Howbeit Agamemnon, fearing another feud with him, consented to the truce. Then said Nestor, "It were not well, Achilles, that all our host should remain; seeing they are yet inflamed with the spirit of bloodshed, and easily might some fray break out among men newly come from mutual slaughter. My counsel is, that you with your Myrmidons abide to share in the funeral rites, but let the rest of us withdraw to our camp, having sworn to keep the truce you desire." And this counsel prevailed with all.

Now as the Greeks withdrew, they saw Achilles laying the body of Penthesilea in his bright chariot, and one among them turned as he passed, and mocked the son of Peleus. This man was called Thersites—a loud-tongued, turbulent fellow of the baser sort, a brawler and a coward, who was ever ringleader of seditions among the common soldiery. "Ho, ho! "he cried, with a ribald laugh, "see yonder valiant Achilles still fondling that dead wench! By the blessed gods, the amorous youth looks as though he had a greater mind to marry her than bury her."

Achilles heard, and in one stride he reached Thersites. "I will close that foul mouth of yours," he said; and with a buffet in the face he stretched him lifeless.

So Penthesilea was brought back to the Amazon camp in the chariot of Achilles, and the Trojans made a grave for her near the barrow of Hector. At nightfall they laid her therein—for the Amazons do not burn their dead—and all the city came out to her burying, making great lamentation. And King Priam and his sons came also, bringing gifts of honour, as did likewise Achilles; for he had sent to his tents for the chiefest jewels among his war-spoils, and he placed them in the grave with his own hands. Now Penthesilea's yellow horse stood by the while with drooped head, mourning his mistress; and when the grave was filled in, one of the Amazons raised her javelin to kill him as their custom is, but Achilles bade her forbear. Then said the Amazon, "You that have thus nobly honoured our Queen, would you have her lack her favourite steed in the Spirit Land?"

"Not without her goodwill," answered Achilles, "but if I could now ask the horse of her as a gift, what think you she would say?"

"She would bestow him on you right gladly," said the Amazon, quickly. "There is nothing Penthesilea, nor we her people, would deny to the most generous of foes." And all the warrior-women cried, "Take the horse, great chieftain; proud are we he should be yours—proud he too will be of such a master."

But Achilles stroked the yellow steed's glossy neck, and said, "I meant not so; for not long shall I be master of any horse, no, not of Xanthus and Balius that I love so well. But let this gallant beast live, for Achilles' sake, and cherish him—as, indeed, I know you will—for the sake of Penthesilea."

"That will we," cried all the Amazons; and with that Achilles left them and went his way.

Now all that night the Amazons made moan for Penthesilea, while by Priam's command the Trojans raised a great mound over her grave; but at daybreak they mounted their horses and departed to their own country. For without a queen it is not lawful for the Amazons to fight; and when a queen dies they must meet to choose another in the great Temple of Ares that is in their land.

Then were the Trojans much dispirited, deeming that they had now lost the last of their allies; for ere this they had seen the overthrow of many helpers that came to them from afar; even from stormy Thrace and from the wide land of Lycia, whose godlike prince, Sarpedon, Patroclus slew in his latest fight. But it was decreed of Fate that yet one more helper should appear for King Priam.

For even while he stood on the high watch-tower of his palace, gazing after the departing Amazons, the King was 'ware of an armed multitude approaching from the East. As they drew nigh, the clang of cymbals and the roll of drums smote upon his ears, and brought the Trojans thronging to the city wall. Then marked they a vast company of men on foot, armed with short bows and painted quivers; strangely bedight with head-dresses of nodding plumes and necklets of wild-beast fangs; and naked save for the leopard-skin girt about their loins. All were of huge stature, with close-curled, jet-black hair; and the colour of their bodies was the colour of gleaming bronze. In the midst, high in a glittering chariot, rode one who seemed tallest of them all, but of another race; his golden armour was of the Trojan fashion, and his countenance, though deeply embrowned, resembled not distantly that of Hector. Wondering, the Trojans beheld this chieftain halt before their gate, and heard his loud summons—"Let King Priam of Troy appear to greet a friend and kinsman."

With what speed his old limbs might, Priam hurried to the gate, attended by his sons; the stranger chief descended from his chariot to meet him, made dignified obeisance in the Oriental manner, and addressed him in these words:—

"Though my person, royal and gracious kinsman, be unknown to you, you cannot but have heard my name. In me you behold Memnon, Prince of Ethiopia. Not unmindful of the sacred tie of blood, I am come from my far home in the lands of the Sunrise to aid you in the war whereof the fame has reached even unto us who dwell at the world's end."

"Prince," said old Priam with a troubled look, "I have heard indeed of the Ethiopians, inhabitants of earth's utmost verge—but never, I think, the name of their ruler. But I grow an old man, and sorrows have dulled my brain—it may be I forget. Bear with me, noble Memnon, and say, what kinship have you with me, the son of Laomedon?"

"Had not Laomedon another son besides," said Memnon, "who was called Tithonus? Ah, this at least I see you remember. Tell me, then, what became of Tithonus, your brother?"

"It was never known," replied Priam. "While yet a lad in his bloom he went hunting alone on Mount Ida, one summer's morn, and was never seen again of human eye. But many believed that one of the Immortals had carried him away, for he was fair to see as the young Ganymede—who was also of our blood—whom Zeus in the likeness of an eagle caught up to the heavenly palaces, to be his cupbearer."

"They believed truth, then," said Memnon, "for the rosy-fingered Dawn looked on Tithonus, and loved him for the beauty that was like unto her own in its dewy freshness; and in her pearly car she sped him to the cloud-curtained pavilions of the East. And there the enamoured goddess deigned to become a mortal's bride. Of that union a son was born—who stands before you."

Then joyfully Priam embraced him, saying, "Welcome, thrice welcome, child of my brother. Now I scan you more closely, I well perceive your likeness to the princes of our blood—ay, to my loved son Hector that is gone. But my brother—does he yet live? I fear me, no; he was my elder by many years—a babe in arms was I when he vanished from Troy."

"Tithonus lives," said Memnon, solemnly, "but—against his will. Fain would he lay down the burden of extreme age, and it may not be; he knows that it may never, never be. For in the day of their espousals, Dawn bade him ask one boon, whatsoever he would; and in his witlessness he chose life immortal, and bethought him not to ask therewithal immortal youth. And since the goddess had power but that once to grant such a gift, neither can recall it, Tithonus must languish for ever in her roseate halls, the shrunken shadow of his former self."

Now while these thus spoke together, Achilles had gone down to the beach of the sea, to a place apart from the ships; and there he sat in the early sunlight musing many things. Then appeared to him Thetis his mother, rising out of the blue deep like a morning cloud; and she drew near and stood before her son, weeping bitterly.

"Is there fresh cause of tears, my mother," said Achilles, "or do you but come to renew sorrow with fruitless plainings?"

"Child," said Thetis, "I am come with a warning. By all my love I entreat you, go not forth to battle this day, for that will give wings to your doom."

"Ah, lady mother," answered Achilles, sighing deeply, "what avails it to tell me this? Bethink you how, when I thirsted for Hector's blood, you warned me that my death was appointed in short space after his. Little I recked of that, if only I might slay him first as he slew Patroclus, when I, woe's me, sat afar, not knowing it—not there to succour my comrade in his utmost need! And now I have had vengeance; but will that bring me back the light of mine eyes that is hidden in the grave? Is it any profit to me to live, widowed of my heart's friend? Nay, but welcome shall be the hour of my death, whensoever Zeus wills it to betide. But I marvel, goddess, wherefore you should seek to avert the thing that you know ordained. Long since you revealed to me that if I went to Troy, nevermore must I see home again."

"Alas," said Thetis, "and against all my pleadings you set your face as a flint, both then and in the day Patroclus fell. But hear me yet this once again, child of my tears! Though Zeus himself cannot avert the early doom that you chose for love of glory, my prayers have won him to delay it, if you will but heed what now I bid you. O, harden not your heart—be not so pitiless to the mother that bore you as to hasten the day of her anguish."

Then Achilles tenderly embraced his mother and said to her, "Weep not, Lady of the Waves, but tell me, from whom does peril threaten me in the fight to-day?"

"From Memnon, Prince of the Ethiopians," replied Thetis, "who is even now come with a great host to the defence of Troy, being near of kin to Priam by his father. He, too, is the son of a goddess—of her that brings light to mortals, sacred Dawn. Now it is ordained that Memnon shall fall in battle this very day; of this Dawn had knowledge; and though she might not save him, she sought and obtained of Zeus that her eyes should never behold among the living the slayer of her child. Therefore, bitter fear is mine lest Memnon fall by your spear invincible; and so you likewise perish, or ever Dawn's pure eyelids open on the world again."

Then said Achilles: "Would with all my heart that I may look no more upon her holy light; no better is it to me than darkness, for since Patroclus died I am like to one whose sight is lost. But this will I do, mother, for your sake, if it yield you any comfort; needs must I bear the brunt of fight with the chiefs my comrades, but I will post my Myrmidons far from the ranks of the Ethiopians, and avoid encounter with their prince to the utmost of my power. I will not cope with him, I promise you, unless the chances of the mellay force me thereto. And that is much for your son to promise; for, like the eagle of the rock, he flies ever at the lordliest quarry he can spy."

Thetis answered never a word, but drew her son to her bosom, weeping silently. And while she clasped him in her snow-white arms, bedewing his mailed breast with tears, a peal of thunder rolled through the clear heaven. Thetis looked upward and said, "Chide not, O Thunderer, for I strive no more against thy decree." With that, she pressed one kiss on the brow of Achilles, and glided from him like a ghost, and plunged beneath the waves.