 
The Greek heroes who had been wounded on the morning of this unlucky day and had been obliged to retire from the fight had remained in their tents in great discouragement, caring for their wounds. Nestor still sat with Machaon, and after he had tended him and given him food and drink he arose restlessly and said to his wounded friend: “My dear fellow, let me go and see what our fortunes are. The shouts of the warriors seem louder at the wall.” He took a shield and lance and went out. Alas, what a sight met his eyes! The wall was half demolished, the gateway shattered, the Trojans inside the intrenchments, and such wild confusion prevailed that one could not tell friend from foe. He sighed deeply and considered for a moment whether he should go down into the turmoil or seek Agamemnon in his tent. He chose the latter course. But as he turned in the direction of the kings’ ships, the wounded lords, Tydeus’ son Diomedes, Ulysses, and Agamemnon, came toward him with slow steps, leaning on their lances and sick with wounds. “Nestor, Neleus’ son,” cried Agamemnon, “whence comest thou and why didst thou leave the field? Alas, I fear that all will come to pass as Hector has threatened; that the Trojans will not rest until our ships are burned and our people destroyed. The Achaians hate and curse me as Achilles hates me, for it is I who have led them into this misery. No doubt they are now deserting or sitting brooding beside the ships.” “What has been, even Jupiter cannot change,” answered Nestor. “But let us consider what is still to be done.” “Then let me tell thee what I think,” said Agamemnon. “As we are at the end of our resources, my advice is that as soon as it is dark we launch our ships and sail away while the Trojans are asleep. Let them call us cowards! It is better to escape thus than to be destroyed.” “What words are these, O Atride,” said Ulysses, frowning. “Thou shouldst have led an army of deserters hither, instead of commanding men like us, who have been taught from early youth to support the hardships of war unto death. What? Dost thou really intend to save thyself by stealing away like a thief in the night? Hush! That no one else may hear such unbecoming words!” Agamemnon answered him: “Ulysses, I feel thy stern rebuke deeply, and I would not have the Argives launch the ships against their will. If anyone can give better counsel, let us hear it.” Now Diomedes began to speak. “It is not far to seek if thou wilt listen to me. I am indeed the youngest here, but as well born as any, and I think Jupiter hath given me courage and strength for manly deeds. My advice, then, is that we return to the battlefield, not to fight, for our wounds prevent that, but in order to encourage the others.” This speech pleased all and they followed him straight to the place of combat. Just as they arrived there they were met by Poseidon in the figure of an elderly warrior, who grasped the right hand of the ruler and said: “Take courage, brave Atride, the immortal gods will not be angry with thee forever. Thou shalt surely see the day when the Trojans will retreat in defeat to their city and their heroes fall before our lance thrusts.” With these words the old man returned to the fight and with encouraging words spurred on the hesitating soldiers to renewed effort. His voice resounded over the battlefield like the shouting of a thousand men and the Achaians obeyed it. The princes gazed after him in astonishment, for his kingly figure was unknown to them. They suspected that it was a god come to encourage them. Through hatred of the Trojans, Poseidon was secretly aiding the Achaians contrary to the express commands of Jupiter. But it would have gone hard with him if the son of Cronos, who was looking down on the battlefield from Mount Ida, had discovered him at once. Juno contrived a scheme to prevent this for a while at least. She went to Aphrodite and said coaxingly: “Wilt thou grant me a favor, or refuse it because thou art resentful of my aiding the Achaians, whilst thou art for the Trojans?” Aphrodite graciously answered: “Mighty Juno, speak. What dost thou desire? If I can grant it I will do so.” Then Juno said cunningly: “Give me thy magic girdle of love and longing, which inclines the hearts of gods and men to thee. I wish to visit old grandfather Oceanus, who has quarrelled with his spouse Thetis, and try if I may not reconcile them.” “How could I refuse thee my help?” answered the goddess. “Here, take it, and mayest thou be successful.” Smiling happily, Juno took the magic girdle and hastened to her chamber. She bathed her delicate body, anointed it with ambrosial oil, and arranged her hair in shining ringlets. She then put on the fine long robe which Athena had woven for her, closed it with golden clasps on her breast, and wound the magic girdle about her waist. Beautiful earrings, a shimmering veil, and golden sandals completed the splendid dress. Juno now hastened over the heights of Olympus and across the mountains and streams of earth to Lemnos, where she found Sleep, the brother of Death. He was indispensable to her in carrying out the trick she had planned, so she took him graciously by the hand and said: “Mighty Sleep, who tamest gods and men, if thou wouldst ever do me a service, do it now and I shall be forever grateful. My son HephÆstus shall fashion thee an indestructible seat, whose cushions are always soft, and it shall be shining with gold and have a comfortable footstool for thy feet.” A smile like a ray of sunshine lit up the god’s face. Nothing could have tempted him more. Yawning he asked: “What dost thou want of me, honored goddess?” “Come with me and put the father of the gods to sleep for a short time,” she said. “And to make it easier for thee, I will beguile him with sweet speeches.” “Thou askest a hard thing,” answered Sleep. “Anyone else I would dare approach, even ever-flowing old Oceanus; but Jupiter, the Terrible, I cannot venture near unless he calls for me himself. Only remember how he raged the time I deceived him at thy behest, when thou didst pursue his dear son Hercules with storms, with intent to imprison him on the island of Kos. All Olympus trembled at his wrath, and I should have been lost had Night not protected me out of friendship.” Juno replied: “Dost thou suppose the father of the gods cares as much for the Trojans as he did for his dear son? No indeed! As thy reward I promise thee for thy wife the fairest of the Graces, whom thou hast so long desired.” “Then swear it,” cried Sleep, overjoyed, “that I may trust thee, and I will do thy bidding instantly.” The goddess touched the earth with one hand and the sea with the other and swore by the River Styx and by the gods of the underworld. Then they both passed over the sea to Phrygia. Juno went straight up Ida, while Sleep, in the form of a nighthawk, slowly circled about the mountain top and hid himself in the branches of a tall pine tree. When Jupiter saw his consort he was greatly astonished. His dear wife had never appeared so lovely to him before. She had Juno’s eyes, but Aphrodite’s soulful glance; Juno’s voice, but the words seemed to come from the heart of the goddess of love. The masterful, rebellious Juno, become gentle, kind, tender, and modest, so surprised him that he immediately forgot all his past grievances against her and gave himself up to the sweet delusion that this change would last forever. And now Juno became so confiding and affectionate that her lord forgot the Trojans and in looking at her his back was turned to them, so that he could not see his disobedient brother Poseidon. At last she made secret signs to the bird lurking in the pine branches to encompass the happy one with his outspread wings, and he was soon peacefully at rest. Sleep then flew quickly down to Poseidon to tell him that Jupiter was slumbering and that it was now time to aid the Achaians in earnest. Then the sea god in the shape of an old warrior went up and down the ranks preaching courage. Under his leadership the people charged forward like a hurricane beating against a forest. Many men fell, most of them Trojans. Hector knew not that a god was opposing him, so he did not give way and still expected victory. But he soon met his doom. He had just cast his lance in vain at Ajax, and was about to pick up a stone, when Ajax quickly hurled a great piece of rock, which struck the hero under his shield and he fell back breathless. Shield and stone dropped from his hands and he tumbled over in the sand. Ajax and his friends were about to come up and strip him, but at this moment the bravest Trojan princes, Æneas, Polydamas, Agenor, and the valiant Lycians, Sarpedon and Glaucus, surrounded him, all covering him with their shields at once, until some of the servants lifted him on their shoulders and carried him to his chariot. When the chariot crossed the ford of the little River Scamander or Xanthus, the friends lifted down the moaning and still unconscious hero, laid him on the ground, and sprinkled him with water. He revived, opened his eyes, and wanted to arise, so they took hold of his arms and lifted him to a kneeling position. A stream of dark blood burst from his lips and he sank into unconsciousness again. The news of Hector’s fall was greeted with loud rejoicing in the Achaian army. Their old courage returned and Poseidon’s presence worked wonders of heroism. The Trojans retreated farther and farther and few of the leaders fought alone. Victory now inclined toward the side of the Achaians, for Hector lay wounded on the banks of the Xanthus and the gods no longer fought for Troy. Thus the Trojans soon found themselves again near the city walls and even forced behind them. |
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