BOOK I

The Quarrel

Sing, 0 Goddess, the ruinous wrath of Achilles,

Son of Peleus, the terrible curse that brought

Unnumbered woes upon the Achaeans and hurled

To Hades so many heroic souls, leaving

Their bodies the prey of dogs and carrion birds.

The will of Zeus was done from the moment they quarreled,

Agamemnon, son of Atreus, and godlike Achilles.¹

Which of the gods caused two such men to contend?

The son of Zeus and Leto. Deeply incensed

With King Agamemnon for failing to honor Chryses^a

His priest, Apollo sent a plague on the soldiers,

And many people were dying. Chryses had come

To the swift Achaean ships to ransom his daughter,

And the ransom he bore was boundless. In suppliant hands

On a staff of gold he held the sacred fillet

Of far-darting Apollo, and he made his plea to all

The Achaeans, especially to the two sons of Atreus,²

Marshalers of many:

“O Atreus’ sons and you other

Well-greaved Achaeans, may the gods who live on Olympus

Allow you to sack the city of Priam^† and reach

Your homes in safety. But reverence the son of Zeus,

Apollo who strikes from afar—take this ransom

And return my precious daughter.”

All the other Achaeans

Supported the priest and shouted to reverence him

And accept the splendid ransom. But Atreus’ son

Agamemnon was far from pleased. Roughly he sent him

Away with these harsh words:

“Don’t let me find you,

Old man, by the hollow ships, neither loitering now

Nor coming back later, or you will find small protection

In the sacred staff and fillet. The girl I will not

Let go! Before that she’ll grow old in Argos, far from

Her own native land, working at the loom and sharing

My bed. Now go, old man! and you’ll go much safer

If you don’t provoke me.”

At this the old priest was afraid

And did as the King bade him do. Without a word

He walked off along the shore of the loud-booming sea,

But when he had gone some distance he fervently prayed

To his lord Apollo, whom lovely-haired Leto bore:

“Hear me, 0 god of the silver bow, you

That bestride in your power Chryse and sacred Cilla

And mightily rule in Tenedos—O Smintheus, if ever

I built a temple that pleased you, or made burnt-offering

To you of rich thigh-pieces from bulls or goats,

Fulfill this prayer of mine by using your arrows

To make the Danaans^b pay for the tears I have shed.”³

Thus he prayed, and Phoebus Apollo heard him.

Down from the peaks of Olympus he came with a heart

Full of wrath and his bow and closed quiver about his shoulders.

The arrows rattled on the back of the angry god

As he moved, and like night he arrived. Then he sat down

Some distance away from the ships and shot the first arrow,

And the silver bow’s twang was awesome and chilling indeed.

At first he shot at the mules and flashing-swift dogs,

But then he aimed his bitter shafts at the men

Themselves, and struck! And pyres of the dead were everywhere

Constantly burning.

For nine days the deadly shafts

Of the god sped through the army, but on the tenth day

The white-armed goddess Hera put into the heart

Of Achilles to call the men to the place of assembly,

For it distressed her to see the Danaans dying.

When they were assembled and seated, fleet-footed Achilles

Stood up in their midst, and spoke:

“Now, 0 son

Of Atreus, it seems that we shall be baffled and driven

Back home, if indeed we escape with our lives from the war

And pestilence too that plague the Achaeans. But come,

Let us consult some prophet or priest, or some reader

Of dreams—for even a dream is from Zeus—someone

Who may be able to tell us why Phoebus Apollo

Rages so fiercely. If it be because of a hecatomb^c

Or vow unperformed, perhaps the god will accept

The savor of sacrificed lambs and goats without blemish

And change his mind about plaguing us all this way.”

When he had spoken and sat down again, up stood

Calchas, son of Thestor, he who was far

The best reader of ominous birds, who knew what was

And had been and things that were to be, and who had

By means of the keen prophetic vision given

To him by Apollo guided the Achaean ships

To Ilium. Now, with all good intentions, he addressed

The assembly:

“Zeus-loved Achilles, you bid me explain

The wrath of far-smiting Apollo. Therefore I will.

But first you must make up your mind and swear to defend me,

Swear that you’ll be both willing and quick with word

And hand. For I fear I am going to anger a man

Who rules with might over all the Argives, and from whom

The Achaeans take orders. A king, you know, is always

More lordly when angry at a low-ranking man. Even

If he swallows his wrath at the time, in his heart he nurses it

Still, till he has his revenge. So decide whether you

Will protect me.”

Then swift Achilles answered him thus:

“Be bold, and tell us what you can of the god’s mind and will,

For by Zeus-loved Apollo I swear to you that so long

As I live on earth and have my sight, no one

Shall hurt you here by the hollow ships, no one

In the Danaan host, though you mean Agamemnon himself,

Who claims to be far the best of all the Achaeans.”

At this the peerless prophet took heart, and spoke:

“It’s not for a hecatomb or broken vow that he blames us,

But because Agamemnon insulted his priest by not

Accepting the ransom and giving the man his daughter.

Thus the far-smiting god has given us woes,

And will continue to give them. He will not remove

This loathsome plague till we return to her father

His wide-eyed daughter—nor can we accept any ransom—

And we must carry to Chryse a holy hecatomb.

Only then can we hope to change the mind of Apollo.”

When he had spoken and sat down again, the son

Of Atreus, the wide-ruling wager of war Agamemnon,

Stood up in a rage among them. His black heart boiled

With wrath and his eyes were like fire when it blazes. Fixing

Calchas with an evil scowl, he railed at him thus:

“Prophet of misery! you’ve still got your first good thing

To foretell for me. Unhappy events you always

Enjoy predicting, but never yet have you prophesied

Anything pleasant, much less brought it to pass.

And now in the midst of this Danaan meeting you go on

Spouting your oracles, telling the men it’s because

Of me that the far-darting god is inflicting these woes

Upon them, because I refused the royal ransom

For the darling daughter of Chryses, since I much prefer

To have her at home with me. I would rather have her,

In fact, than Clytemnestra, my wife. For this girl is quite

Her equal, just as tall and good looking, just as

Smart and clever with her hands. Even so, I want

To give the girl back, if that is the thing to do.

I prefer the men safe and well, not sick and dying.

But you must prepare a prize for me at once.

For me to be the only Argive here

Without some gift of honor would hardly be right!

As you can see, my prize is going elsewhere.”

Then Achilles, noble and strong, answered him thus:

“Renowned son of Atreus, most covetous of men, how

Can the gallant Achaeans give you a prize? If there

Is some large public treasure, we’ve yet to learn where it is,

And the plunder we took from the cities we sacked has already

Been divided. Nor can we rightly take these things back

From the people. But you, give up the girl as the god

Demands. We Achaeans will recompense you three

And four times over, if Zeus ever wills that we sack

The well-walled city of Troy.”

And lordly Agamemnon

Spoke in reply: “Though you be, 0 godlike Achilles,

A man of great valor, don’t try to outwit me like that,

For I’ll not be persuaded or gotten the best of by you!

Do you tell me to give the girl back so that you can keep

What you’ve got while I sit here with nothing? If the gallant

Achaeans give me a prize to my liking, and equal

To the one I am losing, all right—but if they do not,

Then I myself will come and take your gift

Of honor, or that of Ajax, or I’ll seize and bear off

The prize of Odysseus. Wrathful indeed will be

The man to whom I make that visit! But this

We can think about later. Right now let us launch a black ship

On the sacred sea, get enough rowers together,

And put on board a hecatomb along with the girl,

The lovely Chryseis herself And let one of our leaders

Take charge, either Ajax, or Idomeneus, or godly Odysseus,

Or, son of Peleus, you yourself, most dreaded

Of men, that so you may offer gifts and appease

The far-working god.”

Then swift Achilles, scowling

At him, replied: “You greedy-minded shamelessness

Incarnate! how can any decent Achaean want to

Take orders from you, to go where you tell him to go

Or battle his best with hostile men? I didn’t

Come here to fight because of the Trojan spearmen.⁴

They’ve never done me any harm, never rustled my cattle

Or horses, or plundered in fertile Phthia a harvest

Of mine, for between here and there lie a great many things—

Shadowy mountains and crashing sea. But we

Came here with you, the incredibly shameless, in an effort

To gratify you! to get satisfaction for Menelaus

And you! covetous cur that you are. All this

You turn your back on and choose to forget, and now

You threaten to take my prize of prestige, the gift

I got from the sons of Achaeans and for which I labored

So much. Whenever we warriors sack a populous

Trojan city, my share of the booty is never

Equal to yours. True, I get more, much more,

Than my share of chaotic battle, but when it comes

To dividing the loot, your portion is always far larger

Than mine. Worn out with fighting, I go back to my ships

And with me take some pitiful little prize

Allotted to me—little, but mine. Now, though,

I’ll go back to Phthia, for I would much rather take all

My beaked ships and go home than stay on here in disgrace

To heap up wealth for you!”

And the king of men

Agamemnon answered him thus: “Go on and run,

If you feel the urge so strongly. I do not beg you

To stay on my account. I’ve others here

Who honor and respect me, including the best of all counselors,

Zeus himself. Of all the god-nurtured leaders,

You are most hateful to me, for strife is always

Dear to your heart, and battles and fighting. And if

You’re so full of valor, that’s the gift of a god.

So take your ships and your men and go lord it over

The Myrmidons at home. I have no regard for you,

Nor do I care how angry you are. But see now

How you like this. Since Phoebus Apollo is taking

Chryseis from me, I’m returning her with a ship

And men of mine—but I myself will come

To your lodge and take your prize, the lovely Briseis,⁵

That once and for all you may know how greatly I

Exceed you in power and excellence, and another man

Will think twice before calling himself my equal and right

In my presence comparing himself with me!”

He spoke,

And the pain from his words went deep in the son of Peleus,

Rending the heart in his shaggy breast two ways

As to what he should do, whether to draw the sharp sword

By his thigh, break up the meeting, and kill the son

Of Atreus, or swallow his rage and control his temper,

While he was thus divided in mind and heart,

With that huge sword of his half drawn from the scabbard,

Pallas Athena came down from the sky, sent

By white-armed Hera, the goddess whose heart held equal

Love and concern for both of the angry men.

Standing behind him, she caught the son of Peleus

By a handful of tawny hair and made herself visible

To him alone, nor could any of the others see her.

Astonished, Achilles turned, and as he looked

In the blazing blue eyes of the goddess he knew her at once

For Pallas Athena, and his words came winged with surprise:

“Why, 0 daughter of aegis-bearing Zeus, do you come again

Now? Can it be that you wanted to witness the hubris^d

And gross overreaching of Atreus’ son Agamemnon?

Well let me say this, and believe me I mean what I say.

That arrogant pride of his may shortly cost him

His life!”

And the bright-eyed goddess Athena replied:

“I came down from the sky to help you control

Your wrath, if only you will obey, and the goddess

White-armed Hera sent me, for her heart holds equal

Love and concern for both of you. So come,

No fighting, and don’t draw your sword. Wound him with words

Instead, and tell him just how it will be. And now

I say this to you, and I too mean what I say.

On account of this arrogant insult, splendid gifts

Worth three times as much as what you may lose will one day

Be given to you. So hold yourself back, and obey us.”

Then Achilles, swift of foot, answered her thus:

“No man, O goddess, can ignore the word of two

Such powers, no matter how wrathful his heart may be.

To obey is surely better. The gods hear all

The prayers of him who heeds them.”

He spoke, and restrained

His mighty hand on the silver hilt. Then obeying

The word of Athena he thrust the long blade back into

The scabbard. And the goddess left for Olympus and the palace

Of aegis-bearing Zeus, to mingle with the other gods there.

And again Achilles, wrathful as ever, spoke violent

Words to the son of Atreus: “You drunken sot!

With the greedy eyes of a dog and the heart of a deer!

You never have courage enough to arm yourself

For battle along with the rest of us, or go

With the best Achaeans on a crafty ambush. You’d rather

Die than do either! You much prefer to go

Through this huge camp and seize for yourself the gift

Of anyone here who disagrees with you, you wretched

Devourer of what we win! And truly, the men

You rule are also worthless, or this, 0 son

Of Atreus, would be the last of your arrogant insults.

But I’ll make something clear right now, and swear a great oath.

I swear by this staff I hold—which no longer has bud

Or leaf since it left its stump in the mountains, nor ever

Grows green again and blooms since the sharp bronze stripped it

Of foliage and bark, but which now the sons of Achaeans

Bear in their hands, they who are judges among us

And uphold the laws of God—by this staff I swear

A great oath that surely someday a desperate need

For Achilles shall come upon all the sons of Achaeans,

Nor will you be able to help them at all, no matter

How grieved you are, when man-killing Hector is cutting them

Down by the dozen. Then, I say, you’ll rend

Your heart with wrath and remorse for failing to honor

The best Achaean of all!”

So saying, Achilles

Dashed to the ground the staff with its studs of bright gold,

And sat down, while opposite him the son of Atreus

Went on venting his rage. Then among them up stood

Nestor, the silver-tongued speaker of Pylos, from whose

Lips the words flowed sweeter than honey. Since he

First saw the light, two generations of mortal

Men had come and gone in sacred Pylos,

And now among the third he was the King.

In an effort to help, he addressed the assembly:

“For shame!

Surely now great grief comes on the land

Of Achaea. But think how glad it would make King Priam

And all of his sons along with the other Trojans

To learn of this wrangling between you—you that among

The Danaans stand first in counsel and warfare. But listen

To me. Both of you are younger than I,

And in other days I have campaigned with mightier

Men than you, nor did they ever belittle

Or disregard me. Never since have I seen such warriors,

Nor ever again shall I see such heroes as Peirithous

Was and Dryas, marshaler of men, and Caeneus

And Exadius and Polyphemus, godlike in his might, and that equal

Of the immortal gods, Theseus, son of Aegeus.

Of all men reared on earth, these were the strongest.

The strongest, I say, and with the strongest they fought—

With the monstrous mountain Centaurs, and the slaughter they there

Performed was terrible indeed.⁶ I came a long way

From distant Pylos and mingled with those very men,

For I came at their summons. And in the war I did

My personal share of the fighting. There are today

No mortals alive on earth who would be fit

To fight with those men. Still, they listened to me

And took my advice. And you too would do better to hearken

And heed. You, Agamemnon, are a man of great power,

But don’t try taking that girl away. Leave her

Alone, the prize of him to whom the Achaeans

Gave her. And you, 0 son of Peleus, do not

Presume to pit your might in strife against

A sceptered King, who derives his power from Zeus

And therefore has no common glory. You

Are the son of a goddess and valiant indeed, yet he

Is the mightier man, since he rules over more people.

Check your rage, Atrides—in fact, I beg you

To extinguish this wrath of yours against Achilles,

Who in the moil of horrible war is the mightiest

Mainstay we Achaeans have.”

And ruling Agamemnon

Replied: “All that you say, 0 aged one,

Is just and wise enough, but this man wants

To be higher than anyone else. He wants to rule

Over all—to be King, I tell you, and give orders to all.

Well I know one, at least, who won’t take orders

From him! So the immortal gods made him

A mighty spearman—does that give him the right

To go around spouting insults?”

Then the gifted Achilles

Interrupted, saying: “Indeed, for if I yielded

To you in all things, no matter what you commanded,

I would be called a coward and good for nothing.

So boss the others about, but give no more orders

To me! I’m through with doing what you say. And here

Is something else that you will do well to remember.

I will not fight with you or anyone else

For the girl, since you do but take what you gave. But of all

That I’ll have left by that swift black ship of mine,

I warn you not to take away anything else!

Go on and try, if you like, so that all may learn

I mean business—and see how soon your black blood covers

My spear!”

When the violent words had all been spoken,

The two men arose and broke up the meeting beside

The Achaean ships. Achilles strode off to his shelters

And well-balanced ships along with Patroclus and all

The rest of his comrades. But the son of Atreus ordered

Others to drag a swift ship down into the sea

And he picked out twenty oarsmen. Then they drove on board

For the god the hecatomb of cattle and brought Chryseis

Of the lovely cheeks and put her aboard. And Odysseus,

Resourceful as ever, mounted the deck and took charge.

When all were embarked and sailing the foamy sea-lanes,

Atreus’ son commanded the army to wash,

And they purified themselves in the salt sea-water and offered

To Apollo appeasing hecatombs of bulls and goats

By the shore of the unresting sea. And the plentiful smoke

Curled up in the sky and eddying with it the savor.

While the men were busy with offerings throughout the camp,

Agamemnon proceeded to fulfill his threat to Achilles.

He called his heralds and nimble squires, Talthybius

And Eurybates, and spoke to them thus: “Go to the lodge

Of Peleus’ son Achilles, take the hand

Of the beautiful-cheeked Briseis, and bring her to me.

And if he refuses to give her, I myself will go

With more men and take her, which will be far more painful for

him.”

With this harsh order he sent them away on their mission,

And they, reluctant, walked off along the beach

Of the desolate sea till they came to the shelters and ships

Of the Myrmidons.^e They found Achilles sitting by his lodge

And black ship, nor was he glad to see them. Frozen

With fear and embarrassment, they stood in awe of the Prince,

Unable to speak a word or ask a question.

But he knew very well what they wanted, and spoke to them, saying:

“Come here, good heralds, and welcome. You bear the words

Of God and men, and my quarrel is not with you,

But Agamemnon, who sent you here for the girl Briseis.

So come, god-sprung Patroclus, bring out the girl

And give her to these men to take back with them. And in

That day when I shall be desperately needed to save

The Achaeans from shameful destruction these two shall witness

For me before blissful gods and mortal men

And the stupid King himself. For surely his rage

Will be the ruin of him yet. If he wants his Achaeans to fight

With both success and survivors, he had better try looking

Before as well as behind!”

He spoke, and Patroclus

Obeyed his dear friend. He led from the lodge Briseis,

Lovely of face, and gave her to go with the men.

And back they went down the line of Achaean ships

And with them the unwilling girl. Now Achilles, weeping,

Withdrew from his comrades, and sitting down by himself

On the beach by the silvery surf he looked out over

The wine-dark sea, stretched out his arms, and fervently

Prayed to his own dear mother:

“Since, 0 Mother,

You bore me, though only to live for a few short years,

Surely Olympian Zeus should have given me honor,

But now that high-thundering god has given me quite

The reverse. For truly the son of Atreus, imperial

Agamemnon, has grossly insulted me. He has robbed me

Of my gift of honor and now he keeps her himself!”

Thus in tears he spoke, and far down in the sea,

Sitting by her ancient father, his goddess mother

Heard him.⁷ And quickly she left the gray sea like a mist

And sank down in front of her weeping son, gently

Caressed him, called him by name, and said:

“My child,

Why are you crying? What sorrow has entered your heart?

Keep it in no longer. Speak out, and share it with me.”

Then moaning, swift-footed Achilles spoke to her thus:

“You know. Why should I tell it to one who already

Knows all about it? We went out to Thebe, the sacred

City of Eëtion, destroyed and plundered it all,

And brought the booty back here. This the sons

Of Achaeans divided fairly among them, and they chose

For the son of Atreus the fair-cheeked daughter of Chryses.

But he, as a priest of far-smiting Apollo, came

To the speedy ships of the gallant bronze-clad Achaeans

To ransom his daughter, and the ransom he bore was boundless.

In suppliant hands on a staff of gold he carried

The fillets of far-darting Apollo, and he pleaded with all

The Achaeans, especially with the two sons of Atreus,

Marshalers of many:

“‘O sons of Atreus and you other

Well-greaved Achaeans, may the gods who live on Olympus

Allow you to sack the city of Priam and reach

Your homes in safety. But reverence the son of Zeus,

Apollo who strikes from afar—take this ransom

And return my precious daughter.’

“All the other Achaeans

Supported the priest and shouted to reverence him

And accept the splendid ransom. But Atreus’ son

Agamemnon was far from pleased. Roughly he sent him

Away, threatening him harshly. And back he went,

A very angry old man, and Apollo, who loves him dearly,

Sent a shaft of sickness against the Argives.

His arrows flew through the wide Achaean camp,

And more and more people were dying. Then a prophet whom we

Could depend on told us the mind and will of the god

Who smites from afar, and I was the first to suggest

That we try to appease him. At this a great rage gripped

Agamemnon, and he uttered a threat that has now been fulfilled.

For already the quick-eyed Achaeans are taking one girl

To Chryse aboard a swift ship along with gifts

For the god, and heralds have come to my lodge and taken

The other, Briseis, my gift from the sons of Achaeans.

But if you really have power, protect your own son.

If you ever did or said anything that gladdened

The heart of Zeus, go now to Olympus and plead

With him. Many times in the halls of my father I have heard you

Glory in telling how you were the only immortal

To help lord Zeus of the dark and lowering sky

And rescue him from shame when other Olympians—

Hera, Poseidon, and Pallas Athena—plotted

To bind him fast. Then, 0 goddess, you came

And untied him, but first with all speed you summoned to lofty

Olympus him of the hundred hands, known as

Briareus to the gods, but Aegaeon to all mankind,

A monster even more powerful than his father Poseidon.

He crouched by the side of Cronos’ son, exulting

In his reputation, and the blessed gods were afraid

Of him and made no attempt to bind Zeus again.

Go sit by his side and remind him of this, and embrace

His knees in earnest prayer for him to support

The Trojans, but as for their foes, the Achaeans, may he trap them

Between the sterns of their ships and litter the beach

With dead and dying men, that all may share

The reward of their King, and that Atreus’ son, imperial

Agamemnon, may know how blind he was to give

No honor at all to the bravest and best of Achaeans! ”

Then Thetis, weeping, replied: “My child, my child,

Why did I raise you to all this misery? I only

Wish that you might have stayed by your ships and escaped

All grief and tears, for the life allotted to you

Is short, not long at all. And now not only

Will you die young, but you have to suffer as well,

And more than anyone else. Hence, back home

In our halls, I bore you to a fate most miserable. But I

Will go in person to snowy Olympus and tell

This grievance of yours to Zeus, the lover of lightning,

In hope of his help. Meanwhile, you remain

By the swift seagoing ships, and go on in your wrath

Against the Achaeans and your utter refusal to fight.

For yesterday Zeus departed for the stream of Oceanus^f

To attend a feast of the excellent Ethiopians, and all

The other gods went with him. In twelve days he

Will be back on Olympus, and then to the brazen-floored palace

Of Zeus I will go, and embrace his knees in prayer.

I believe I shall win him over.”

With this she left him

There on the beach, resentful and brooding on account of

The fair-gowned woman they had forcefully, spitefully

Taken from him. But Odysseus came to Chryse

With the holy hecatomb. Once they were in the deep harbor

They furled the sail and stowed it within the black ship

And lowered the mast by the forestays till quickly they brought it

To rest in the crutch. Then with oars they went on and backed her

Into the moorings, threw the anchor-stones from the bow,

Tied her up from the stern, and stepped out themselves

On the shore of the sea. And out of the ship they led

Far-smiting Apollo’s hecatomb, and also out

Of the seagoing ship stepped the beautiful daughter of Chryses.

Then able Odysseus led her to the altar

And into the arms of her dear father, saying:

“O Chryses,

Agamemnon, king of men, sent me to bring you

Your daughter, and to offer to Phoebus in behalf of the Danaans

A sacred hecatomb, that we may appease the god

Who has brought upon the Argives great wailing and sorrow.”

With these words he placed her in the arms of her father, and he

With much rejoicing embraced his dear child. For the god

They quickly stood the holy hecatomb in order

About the well-built altar, washed their hands,

And took up the grains of barley. Then Chryses raised

His arms and prayed aloud this prayer for them:

“Hear me, 0 god of the silver bow, you

That bestride in your power Chryse and sacred Cilla

And mightily rule in Tenedos—hear as you heard me

Before when I prayed. You honored me then, and woefully

Smote the Achaean host. Grant me now

Another prayer and dispel the deadly disease

That plagues the Danaans.”

Thus he earnestly prayed

And Phoebus Apollo heard him. Then, when all

Had prayed, they sprinkled the grains of barley, drew back

The heads of the victims, cut their throats, flayed them,

And sliced out the thigh-pieces. These they wrapped in thick layers

Of fat and on them laid still more raw meat.

All this the old priest burned on the flaming wood,

And over the meat he sprinkled the sparkling wine,

While around him the young men held their forks of five tines.

Now when the thigh-pieces were wholly consumed and all

Had tasted of the vital parts, they cut up the rest,

Spitted and roasted it well, and drew it all

From the spits. Having eaten and drunk as much as they wanted,

The young men filled the bowls brimful of wine,

And then the goblets, first pouring libation drops

In the goblets of all. Then, for the rest of the day,

They sang to the god in melodious propitiation,

The sons of Achaeans hymning far-working Apollo

With a beautiful paean of praise, and he heard their singing

With a heart full of joy.

When the sun went down and darkness

Came on, they lay down to sleep by the hawsers at the stern

Of the ship, but as soon as Dawn of the rosy fingers

Arrived they put out to sea for the huge Achaean

Camp. Apollo sent a fast-following wind,

And when they had set up the mast and spread the white sail,

The sheet soon bellied before that wind, and the dark waves

Moaned and hissed about the bow, as the ship

Cut swiftly through them ever closer to her destination.

When they came to the huge encampment, they dragged the black ship

Well up on the beach, forced the large props beneath her,

And scattered for shelters and ships of their own.

Meanwhile,

Fast Achilles, the god-sprung son of Peleus,

Remained as wrathful as ever beside his swift ships

Without once going to the man-enhancing place

Of assembly or into the fighting. He stayed where he was,

Eating his heart out with longing for the battle and war-cry.

When the twelfth dawn came, the gods everlasting returned

To Olympus, all together with Zeus in the lead.

Nor did Thetis forget the plea of her son. In the early

Morning she rose from the waves, into the great sky,

And up to Olympus, where she found far-seeing Zeus,

Sitting apart from the others on the highest peak

Of the craggy mountain. She sank down before him and took hold

Of his knees with her left hand while with her right she held

His chin, and spoke in supplication to her lord God,

The son of Cronos:

“O Father Zeus, if ever

Among the immortals any word or deed of mine

Was helpful to you, grant this prayer for me:

Honor my son, who is doomed beyond all others

To an early death. But now the commander-in-chief

Agamemnon has insulted him grossly by taking and keeping

His prize of prestige—an act of arrogant pride!

You at least, 0 lord of all wisdom, Olympian Zeus,

Give him honor and glory. Increase the might

Of the Trojans and give them the upper hand until

The Achaeans honor my son and glorify him

With repayment.”

She spoke, but Zeus the cloud-gatherer sat

A long time without one word of reply, while Thetis

Kept on as before, clinging close to his knees, and again

She put her plea: “Tell me now that you’ll do this

For me, and promise with a nod of your head, or else,

Since you have nothing to fear, go on and say no.

Then I will be sure how much among all the immortals

I am respected the least.”

Then greatly disturbed,

Cloud-gathering Zeus replied: “Sorry stuff

When you do anything to cause trouble between Hera and me

And start her to nagging and making me lose my temper.

Already she is constantly making reproaches

In the presence of the other immortals and accusing me

Of helping the Trojans in battle. But now you’d better

Go, before Hera gets suspicious, and I

Will think these things over and bring them to pass. Therefore

I will nod my head to you, that you may be certain,

For of all immortal pledges a nod from me

Is the surest. No word of mine to which I bow

My head may be recalled, or false, or unaccomplished.”

So spoke the son of Cronos, and the King’s ambrosial

Locks fell forward as he nodded, bowing

His iron-dark brows, and huge Olympus quaked.

When these two had made their plans, they parted. The goddess

Sprang from gleaming Olympus into the depths

Of the sea, and Zeus went to his palace. When they saw

The face of their Father, the other gods rose from their seats,

Nor was there one who dared to wait in his chair,

But all stood up before him. Thus there he sat down

On his throne. Then Hera took one look and knew

That he and a goddess had had their heads together—

He and silver-shod Thetis, daughter of the briny

Old man of the sea. So at once she spoke these words,

Taunting and sharp, to Zeus, the son of Cronos:

“Now which of the gods, my trickster, has again been plotting

With you? You always enjoy keeping things from me,

Pondering matters in secret and pronouncing upon them,

And you never willingly tell me what you’re planning.”

Then the Father of gods and men answered her thus:

“Hera, don’t ever hope to know all my thoughts.

Many of them you would find very hard and unpleasant,

Even though you are my wife. What it is right

For you to hear, no god or man shall know

Before you. But what I plan apart from the gods—

About all such matters you are not to ask or inquire!”

To which the heifer-eyed queenly Hera: “Most dreadful

Son of Cronos, what kind of talk is that!

Truly too often in time gone by I have failed

To ask or inquire, while you went on at your leisure

Plotting whatever you pleased. Now, though, I

Am awfully afraid that the briny old sea-ancient’s daughter,

Thetis of the silver feet, has taken you in.

For right early this morning she sat with you and embraced

Your knees. And to her, I think, you nodded your head

In a solemn promise to honor Achilles and to slaughter

Many Achaeans beside their ships.”

Then Zeus,

God of the storm clouds, replied: “Mysterious goddess!

You think altogether too much! Nor does anything I do

Escape you. But let me assure you there is nothing at all

You can do, except put even more distance between us,

And that will make your existence colder than ever,

Believe me! If what you say is so, then that

Must be my will. So quietly take your seat

And do as I tell you, or all the gods on Olympus

Will not be able to help you when I come up

And lay hold of you with my irresistible hands!”

He spoke, and heifer-eyed queenly Hera sat down,

Quietly controlling her temper. But all the heavenly

Gods in the palace of Zeus were troubled. Hephaestus,

The famous artificer, was the first to speak, hoping

To please his mother, Hera of the lovely white arms:

“Truly we’ll have a sorry, unbearable life here

If you two are going to quarrel on account of mortals

And cause a disturbance among us. There can be no joy

In the splendid feast when such bad things prevail.

So I hereby advise my mother, wise though she is

To try to please our dear Father Zeus, that he

May not rebuke her again and create more chaos

Here at our feast. Why what if the mighty Olympian,

Hurler of lightning, the mightiest god by far,

Should take a notion to strike us all from our seats!

But meekly ask his pardon, and soon the Olympian

Will be gracious to us again.”

With this he sprang up

And placing the two-handled cup in his dear mother’s hand

He spoke to her thus: “Bear up, my mother, and swallow

Your grief, or dear though you are to me I may

Have to watch you beaten and be completely unable,

In spite of my sorrow, to help or console you. For it

Is hard indeed to oppose the Olympian. Once

Before, when I was anxious to help you, he snatched me

Up by the foot and flung me headlong down

From the heavenly threshold. All day long I fell

And sank with the setting sun—what little was left

Of me—in Lemnos, where the Sintian people were quick

To come to my aid and take care of me after my fall.”⁸

At this the goddess, white-armed Hera, smiled,

And smiling received the cup from her son. Then

He went on from left to right, dipping sweet nectar

From the mixing bowl and pouring for all the others.

And unquenchable laughter broke out mid the blessed gods

As they watched Hephaestus puffing his way through the palace.

Thus all day long till the sun went down they feasted,

Nor was there any lack of delight in the banquet

Before them, nor in the gorgeous lyre that Apollo

Played, nor yet in the dulcet Muses, who

Entertained them all with sweet antiphonal song.

But when the bright sun was gone, they all went home

And to bed, for famous Hephaestus, the great ambidextrous

God, had built with all of his knowledge and art

A palace for each of them. But Olympian Zeus,

Lord of the lightning, went up to bed where he always

Lay when delicious sleep was approaching. He lay down

And slept, and beside him Hera of the golden throne.