Read Online The Trojan War by Bernard Evslin - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Bernard Evslin
Ads: Link
bit.”
“Ah, the old complaint,” murmured Paris.
“Yes, the old complaint. You do not fight enough in your behalf, Paris. You set a bad example to the troops, and create rancor among your brothers. The word has spread that you are a coward. I too have called you that in the heat of my displeasure, and yet I know that you are not. You are too proud for cowardice. What you are is irresponsible. You cannot bear the discipline of warfare. The compulsion, the iron urgency. You are like some magic child who can do anything, but views his own caprice as the basic law of the universe. Well, you must drop that. For the cruel necessity of war is upon us—a war prompted by your own desires. And you must play not only an honorable role, but a hero’s role. Zeus knows we need all the heroes we can muster.”
“You keep saying these things, Hector,” said Paris. “But I haven’t uttered one syllable of objection. Why do you think I’m polishing my armor. I never wear it to bed. A rumor, incidentally, that is whispered about you, big brother. No, I mean to go to battle; I just want to look nice when I’m there.”
“Dear brother Hector,” said Helen. “Honorable commander. I know you think little of me. I know you consider me a shameless woman who seduced your brother and plunged Troy into a dreadful war. Nevertheless, let me say this: I, too, am always after him to do his share of fighting. I am of warrior race too, you know. In fact, it is said that a very prominent belligerent, Zeus himself, is my father. I don’t know how much truth there is in it, but they say he wooed my mother in the shape of a swan, and that I was born from a swan’s egg—which accounts for my complexion.”
She smiled at Hector, and he could find no word of reproach to say to her. In the blaze of Helen’s smile no man could remain wrathful. Even iron Hector was not immune.
“And I heard what you said to Andromache,” said Helen. A single pearly tear trembled on her eyelash without falling. “I think it was the most beautiful thing any man has ever said to any wife. This scoundrel here could never in a million years find such sentiments on his tongue, and he is famous for sweet speech. Truly the thought of being enslaved is something that haunts every Trojan woman and devils every warrior.”
“Truly,” drawled Paris. “No man likes to think of his wife being enslaved by anyone but himself. Quite intolerable.”
“See … he jokes even at that,” cried Helen. “What is one to do with him?”
“Make a soldier of him,” growled Hector. “Come on, pretty-boy, enough talk—let’s fight.”
Paris knelt before Helen, took both her hands, turned them over, and kissed each palm. Then he closed her hands.
“Keep these until I come again.”
The sight of Hector and Paris emerging from the gate, fresh and shining, brought new heart to the Trojans, and they charged the Greek positions again. Led by Hector, Paris, and Aeneas, they wrought great havoc among the enemy, who lost some of their best warriors in that flurry.
Athena, despite Zeus’ edict, flew down from Olympus to help the Greeks. This time she was intercepted by Apollo, who said:
“No, sister, you must not. You are Zeus’ favorite daughter, as everyone knows, and you should be the last to flout his commands. You see that I am keeping aloof from the battle, and so must you.”
“I can’t,” cried Athena. “I won’t! Too many Greeks are being killed.”
“Come away. Listen to me. I have a plan to end this slaughter—without any direct intercession on our part.”
Athena joined Apollo under a huge oak tree.
“Owl-goddess,” he said. “We can stop this killing by arranging that the battle be settled through single combat. This was attempted earlier in the day when Paris challenged Menelaus, but Paris fled, and the idea came to nought. Now, however, we shall have great Hector issue the challenge, and you may be sure that he will fight to the finish.”
“I
“Ah, the old complaint,” murmured Paris.
“Yes, the old complaint. You do not fight enough in your behalf, Paris. You set a bad example to the troops, and create rancor among your brothers. The word has spread that you are a coward. I too have called you that in the heat of my displeasure, and yet I know that you are not. You are too proud for cowardice. What you are is irresponsible. You cannot bear the discipline of warfare. The compulsion, the iron urgency. You are like some magic child who can do anything, but views his own caprice as the basic law of the universe. Well, you must drop that. For the cruel necessity of war is upon us—a war prompted by your own desires. And you must play not only an honorable role, but a hero’s role. Zeus knows we need all the heroes we can muster.”
“You keep saying these things, Hector,” said Paris. “But I haven’t uttered one syllable of objection. Why do you think I’m polishing my armor. I never wear it to bed. A rumor, incidentally, that is whispered about you, big brother. No, I mean to go to battle; I just want to look nice when I’m there.”
“Dear brother Hector,” said Helen. “Honorable commander. I know you think little of me. I know you consider me a shameless woman who seduced your brother and plunged Troy into a dreadful war. Nevertheless, let me say this: I, too, am always after him to do his share of fighting. I am of warrior race too, you know. In fact, it is said that a very prominent belligerent, Zeus himself, is my father. I don’t know how much truth there is in it, but they say he wooed my mother in the shape of a swan, and that I was born from a swan’s egg—which accounts for my complexion.”
She smiled at Hector, and he could find no word of reproach to say to her. In the blaze of Helen’s smile no man could remain wrathful. Even iron Hector was not immune.
“And I heard what you said to Andromache,” said Helen. A single pearly tear trembled on her eyelash without falling. “I think it was the most beautiful thing any man has ever said to any wife. This scoundrel here could never in a million years find such sentiments on his tongue, and he is famous for sweet speech. Truly the thought of being enslaved is something that haunts every Trojan woman and devils every warrior.”
“Truly,” drawled Paris. “No man likes to think of his wife being enslaved by anyone but himself. Quite intolerable.”
“See … he jokes even at that,” cried Helen. “What is one to do with him?”
“Make a soldier of him,” growled Hector. “Come on, pretty-boy, enough talk—let’s fight.”
Paris knelt before Helen, took both her hands, turned them over, and kissed each palm. Then he closed her hands.
“Keep these until I come again.”
The sight of Hector and Paris emerging from the gate, fresh and shining, brought new heart to the Trojans, and they charged the Greek positions again. Led by Hector, Paris, and Aeneas, they wrought great havoc among the enemy, who lost some of their best warriors in that flurry.
Athena, despite Zeus’ edict, flew down from Olympus to help the Greeks. This time she was intercepted by Apollo, who said:
“No, sister, you must not. You are Zeus’ favorite daughter, as everyone knows, and you should be the last to flout his commands. You see that I am keeping aloof from the battle, and so must you.”
“I can’t,” cried Athena. “I won’t! Too many Greeks are being killed.”
“Come away. Listen to me. I have a plan to end this slaughter—without any direct intercession on our part.”
Athena joined Apollo under a huge oak tree.
“Owl-goddess,” he said. “We can stop this killing by arranging that the battle be settled through single combat. This was attempted earlier in the day when Paris challenged Menelaus, but Paris fled, and the idea came to nought. Now, however, we shall have great Hector issue the challenge, and you may be sure that he will fight to the finish.”
“I
Similar Books
