The Trojan War by Bernard Evslin Read Free Book Online Page B

indemnity.”
    The Greeks shouted with joy. The Trojan lines were wrapped in bitter silence.
    Helen had been watching on the wall, with Priam and the other elders of Troy. When she heard Agamemnon’s declaration she hurried back to the palace to change her dress, perfume herself, and prepare to be retaken. She was amazed to find Paris in her room.
    “What are you doing here?”
    “Sleeping … waiting …”
    “For what?”
    “For you, dear. What else?”
    “I was watching from the wall. The last I saw of you, you were fighting Menelaus, more or less. Did you run away, darling?”
    “More or less. Not exactly.”
    “You didn’t exactly stay either.”
    “Rough character, that exhusband of yours. No one stays around him very long …”
    “What now, sweet coward?”
    “Come here.”
    “But I’m about to be reclaimed. Agamemnon has declared the Greeks victorious.”
    “Agamemnon is hasty, my dear. The gods are just beginning to enjoy this war. They’re not going to let it end so quickly.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Believe me, the real war is just beginning. And we battle-weary warriors need frequent interludes of tender repose. So come here.”
    Hera and Athena were now perched on the same peak whispering to each other; they did not like the way things were going down below. Zeus called out teasingly:
    “Well, my dears, your gentle impulses should be gratified, for it looks very much like peace will be concluded between Greece and Troy, and many brave men spared who would otherwise have died.”
    “You are hasty, sire,” said Hera sweetly. “No peace treaty has been signed, only an armistice. And with two armies full of such spirited warriors, anything may happen to break a truce. Of course, we hope nothing does, but—after all—it has been foretold that Troy will fall.”
    Zeus frowned, and did not answer. He knew better than to try to match gibes with Hera. In the meantime the ox-eyed queen of the gods was whispering to Athena:
    “We must do something immediately, or peace will break out. Get down there and see what you can do about ending this stupid truce.”
    Athena flew down and whispered to a Trojan leader named Pandarus. “The man who sends an arrow through one of those famed Greek warriors will live in the annals of warfare for the next three thousand years—longer perhaps. Just imagine putting a shaft through Ulysses, or Agamemnon, or Achilles. No, he’s not fighting today, is he? Or Menelaus. Look, there Menelaus stands, still searching for Paris. He’s within very easy bowshot. What are you waiting for, man? If I were an archer like you I wouldn’t hesitate for a second.”
    Pandarus swallowed this flattery in one gulp, as Athena knew he would. Now, Pandarus was a fine archer, although not as good as he thought he was, and he owned a marvellous bow made of two polished antelope horns seized together by copper bands, and strung with ox sinew. Inflamed by Athena’s words, he snatched an arrow from his quiver, fitted it to his bowstring, bent his horn-bow, and let fly. The arrow sang through the air and would have finished off Menelaus right then and there had not Athena, making herself invisible, flashed across the space and deflected the arrow so that it struck through the Spartan king’s buckle and, still further deflected, passed through the bottom part of his breastplate, just scratching his side. The wound looked more serious than it was because the arrow stuck out the other side of his breastplate as if it had passed through his body. Menelaus staggered and fell to his knees; blood flowed down his thighs. The Greek army gasped with horror, and the Trojans groaned too, for they knew this must break the truce. Agamemnon uttered a mighty grief-stricken shout:
    “Traitors! You have killed my brother! You have broken the truce! Greeks—to arms! Kill the traitors! Charge!”
    The dust was churned again as the whole Greek army, moving as one man, snatched up its weapons and rushed toward