TALES OF THE TROJAN WAR (continued 2)

Then first of all came Andromaché, his wife, and cried—“O my husband, thou hast perished in thy youth, and I am left in widowhood, and our child, thy child and mine, is but an infant. I fear me he will not grow to manhood. Ere that day this city will fall, for thou art gone who wast its defender. Soon will they carry us away, mothers and children, in the ships, and thou, my son, perchance wilt be with us, and serve the stranger in unseemly bondage; or, it may be, some Greek will slay thee, seizing thee and dashing thee from the wall; some Greek whose brother, or father, or son, Hector has slain in the battle. Many a Greek did Hector slay; no gentle hand was his in the fray. Therefore do the people wail for him to-day. Sore is thy parents’ grief, O Hector, but sorest mine. Thou didst stretch no hands of farewell to me from thy bed, nor speak any word of comfort for me to muse on while I weep night and day.”

Next spake Hecuba, his mother. “Dear wast thou, my son, in life to the immortal gods, and dear in death. Achilles dragged thee about the tomb of his dear Patroclus, but could not bring him back, and now thou liest fresh and fair as one whom the god of the silver bow has slain with sudden stroke.”

And last of all came Helen, and cried, “Many a year has passed since I came to Troy—would that I had died before! And never have I heard from thy lips one bitter word, and if ever husband’s sister, or sister-in-law, or mother-in-law—for Priam was ever gentle as a father—spake harshly to me, thou wouldst check them with thy grace and gracious words. Therefore I weep for thee; no one is left to be my friend in all the broad streets of Troy. All shun and hate me now.”

And all the people wailed reply.

Then Priam spake. “Go, my people, gather wood for the burial, and fear not any ambush of the Greeks, for Achilles promised that he would stay the war until the twelfth day should come.”

So for nine days the people gathered much wood, and on the tenth they laid Hector upon the pile, and lit fire beneath it. And when it was burnt they quenched the embers with wine. Then his brethren and comrades gathered together the white bones, and laid them in a chest of gold; and this they covered with purple robes and put in a great coffin, and laid upon it stones many and great. And over all they raised a mighty mound; and all the while the watchers watched, lest the Greeks should arise and slay them. Last of all was a great feast held in the palace of King Priam.

So they buried Hector, the tamer of horses.

THE WOODEN HORSE

By Grace Bigelow Patten

For nine long years the Greeks besieged Troy, but for all their plans and manœuvres the city held out against them. They pillaged and overran the neighboring towns but Troy stood fast.

Never were brave men pitted against a braver enemy. The lives of many heroes were sacrificed, Hector’s, the greatest of the Trojan champions, and the valiant Achilles among them, at whose loss the Greeks almost despaired. Force had failed. Their leader had fallen. They must outwit their enemy. With the aid of Ulysses they worked out an admirable plan.

Down came the tents of the main body of the army, there was clatter and jangle of departure and the Greeks swept down the slope to the sea and their ships, as though homeward bound. Afloat, they soon sailed out of sight behind a neighboring island and came to anchor.

The remainder of the army set to work with a will to build a gigantic wooden horse, his sides planked with pine, a huge, hollow horse, as full of peek holes as a colander and with ample room for a band of men to lie hidden within. When it was finished, Ulysses, Menelaus, Pyrrhus and a company of armed warriors entered the horse by means of a secret door and the remainder of the Grecian army sailed away.

On seeing them depart, the Trojans believed the Greeks had at last lost heart, and, with victorious, headlong delight they burst through the gates and swarmed over the plain into the abandoned camp. Looming down on them stood the great horse. Approaching it first with caution, they soon grew bolder and youths and maidens joined hands and danced around it. Many urged that it be drawn into the city. Others were afraid and said, “Burn it, sink it into the sea.” The priest Laocoön begged them to have nothing to do with it. “Are you mad? Have you not learned enough of Grecian fraud to be on your guard against it? For my part, I fear the Greeks even when they offer gifts.” With that he threw his great spear at the horse’s side, which gave forth a hollow sound.

At that moment there was an outcry, as some herdsmen brought before the chiefs a miserable, sullen-looking man whose hands were bound behind his back. He seemed to be the sole survivor of the Grecian army. With the assurance that his life would be spared if he spoke the truth, he tremblingly told them of his sufferings; that he was Sinon, a Greek, who, because of some grudge of Ulysses had been condemned to die as a sacrifice to the gods, of his escape and of his having hidden all night in a weedy lake and until his people were well at sea. All hearts warmed to him. The king ordered his hands unbound and bade him forget the Greeks and “be one of us.” “But tell me,” said the king, “why did you build this great horse?” The treacherous Sinon replied, “That is an offering to Minerva and made so huge to prevent its being carried into the city, for Calchas, the prophet, told us that if the Trojans took possession of it they would surely triumph over the Greeks.” Hearing this, the people were overjoyed, and, in spite of Laocoön’s pleading, began to plan how they might drag the horse into the city. Suddenly a shudder went through the crowd. Out from the surf tumbling along the beach, appeared two immense serpents; breast to breast, on they came, with heads reared high, hissing jaws and blazing blood-red eyes. Many fled in terror. Some were transfixed and stood with haggard faces as the great creatures swept up to Laocoön and his two young sons, enfolded them in their hideous coils, crushed them to earth, devoured them, then glided on to the citadel of Minerva and slipped beneath the feet of the goddess. Here was their omen! “The priest Laocoön has been judged according to his deeds!” they said, “for he cast his spear against this holy thing, and now the gods have slain him!” They at once began making a great opening in the wall. Hoisting levers were adjusted, wheels fastened to the great feet, and after wreathing the horse with green branches and flowers they began tugging and pushing it over the plain and into the city.

The day was given over to merrymaking and feasting; so secure did they feel that the great gates were left unguarded and that night while they slept deeply, care free for the first time in ten years, Sinon, the spy, unlocked the hidden door of the great horse. Cautiously, Ulysses, Menelaus and their men crept out, opened the gates of the city and gave the signal to their army. Silently the ships drew up and anchored and an armed multitude poured out into the night. Spears clashed, torches flared as the Greeks went plunging through the city in a hot frenzy of triumph. King Priam and many of his followers fell by the sword. Houses were ransacked of their jewels, golden bowls taken from the altars. The city was stripped of its treasures and then burned to its foundations. Sinon with his tale of suffering and false tears had touched the hearts of the Trojans and accomplished by strategy what a thousand ships and ten years’ siege had failed to do.