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When the morning came, the two hosts again went forth to battle with each other. Till midday neither side prevailed; but then great Jupiter sent fear and panic amidst the Grecian forces, and they fled to their ships in terror.

As the Greeks were flying in wild confusion, brave Hector driving in his chariot pursued them; and called to his horses, “Now Xanthus, Æthon, Lampus, and Podargus, speed ye well! Ye Flame of Fire, White Foot, and Brilliant, named! carry me fast, and well repay the tender care of my sweet wife Andromaché, who often from her fair white hands has fed thee! For I would win old Nestor’s marvellous shield of purest gold, and strip from off proud Diomed his boasted breastplate, wrought by the mighty Vulcan.”

But Jupiter willed not that this should be; for King Agamemnon prayed aloud to Zeus for succor, and Jupiter heard his prayer, in token whereof he sent a sign, namely: an eagle flew above the Grecian hosts and dropped a kid out of his claws. Then did the Greeks take courage and renewed the fight with vigor. But the darkness came, and each host rested on their arms.

Meanwhile, King Agamemnon called a council of war, and fain would have returned to Greece and leave this invincible city of Troy. But brave King Diomed would not receive such craven counsel, and angrily exclaimed, —

“Even though all the men of Greece depart, yet will I and Sthenelus abide the doom of Troy, for surely the gods have brought us hither.”

To these brave words the Grecian chiefs agreed; and wise Nestor counselled that King Agamemnon should send to brave Achilles and seek to make peace with him that they might have the strong help of his mighty arm. To which King Agamemnon consented, and sent messengers to the tent of Achilles to seek his favor, promising him seven kettles of brass, ten talents of gold, twenty caldrons, twelve fleet horses, seven women slaves skilled in the work of the loom, and, more than all, the return of the maid Briseïs, the cause of all their quarrel; and when Troy should be taken, much spoil besides. And even more; for when they should return to Greece, King Agamemnon promised him one of his own daughters for his wife, and seven cities by the sea. But all this moved not the wrathful soul of stern Achilles, and he would not be appeased; nor would he come to help the Greeks against the Trojans, but still sat silent in his tent. Then it was decided that Diomed and Ulysses should go that night disguised into the Trojan camp, to spy out, if possible, their strength and plans. This same strategy had Hector also planned, and had already sent one Dolon, swift of foot, towards the Grecian host. But as he ran he met Diomed and Ulysses, who seized him, and under threatenings forced him to reveal the Trojan secrets. Then did they slay Dolon, and forthwith proceeded to where some men of Thrace, allies of the Trojans, lay sleeping. These Thracians possessed most matchless steeds – horses so fair and tall, whiter than snow and fleeter than the winds. Diomed and Ulysses would fain secure these as a rich prize, and so they slew the sleeping Thracians and led the captured horses back to the Grecian hosts, and arrived in safety at the ships. The next day the battle waged hot again. Ulysses was wounded, and Paris shot an arrow and pierced the brave physician Machaon. Meanwhile, Achilles was standing on his ship and looking upon the conflict. When he beheld Nestor bearing the wounded Machaon to the ships, he called to his friend Patroclus and bid him see if Machaon’s wound was fatal.

Most fierce the battle raged. On the left, the Grecians prevailed, but on the right brave Hector and his host fought even to the very ships, dealing most deadly blows. So great were the shouts of battle that old Nestor, who was tending the wounded Machaon, was roused; and going forth he met King Agamemnon, and with him Diomed and Ulysses, who had been wounded that day. Then they counselled together. Again Agamemnon advised flight; but the others thought it not good to flee thus, and they counselled King Agamemnon that he should go to the Grecian ranks, bidding them bear themselves bravely and put courage into their hearts. This did he do, and roused their waning strength to fresh exploits. Then Ajax smote brave Hector with a mighty stone, which felled him to the ground; and the Greeks, with a great cry, rushed forth to bear him to their ranks; but the Trojans held their shields before him, and his friends lifted him up and carried him to a place of safety. But he was sorely bruised. Then Apollo, at Jupiter’s bidding, poured courage into his heart and healed him of his wound, so that he rushed once more upon the field of battle, strong and well and valiant as ever. Then were the Greeks struck with dire dismay. Then did Patroclus lament to Achilles on account of the ill fortune of the Greeks, and besought the mighty warrior, if he would not fight himself in their behalf, to let him go accompanied by the valiant Myrmidons, whom Achilles always led to battle. At which the heart of Achilles was moved; and he said, —

“I will not go to battle until it reaches my own ships, but thou mayest put my armor upon thee and lead my Myrmidons to the fight.”

So this was done; and when the Trojans beheld these famous Myrmidons led by one who wore the armor of the mighty Achilles, their hearts were faint with fear, for they supposed great Achilles himself had come against them. Thrice did Patroclus rush against the men of Troy, and each time slew nine chiefs of fame; but the fourth time Apollo stood behind him and struck him, and his eyes were darkened, and the helmet fell off his head, so that the waving plumes were soiled with dust. Never before had this proud helmet of Achilles touched the ground. Then Apollo broke his spear, and struck the shield from his arms, and loosed his corselet. Then all-amazed, poor Patroclus stood defenceless; so Hector struck him dead, and seized the matchless armor of the mighty Achilles.

Fierce was the fight about the body of Patroclus, and many chiefs fell dead striving to obtain the prize. Then fled Antilochus to bear the ill tidings to the great Achilles, who, upon hearing of this dire defeat, poured dust upon his head, and called upon his goddess-mother to come to his aid.

“Why weepest thou, my son?” said the sea-goddess Thetis, rising from the waves.

“My friend Patroclus is dead, and Hector has my arms I gave him to wear, and, as for me, I care not to live unless I can avenge myself.”

Thus Thetis said, —

“Be comforted, my son; to-morrow I will go to mighty Vulcan; he shall forge new arms for thee.”

Even as they spoke together, so sore the Trojans pressed the Greeks, that Jupiter sent Iris to Achilles, and bade him show himself to the Greeks that they might be filled with courage.

“How can I go without arms?” replied Achilles.

But the gods gave him courage, and he went, and Athené put her matchless shield upon his shoulders, and wrapped a golden halo round his head, so that he seemed clothed in godlike armor; and he shouted to the Trojans with a mighty voice, which so filled them with fear that they fell back, and the horses of the Trojan chariots were so terrified at the flaming fire above his head that they thrice fell back, and trampled on the Trojans, as thrice the awful voice of Achilles was heard and his shining form revealed. Thus was the body of Patroclus then secured, and carried on a bier, Achilles walking, weeping by his side.

That night the conflict rested. Meanwhile, Thetis the goddess went to the dread Vulcan, and prayed him make new armor for her son Achilles. To this did stern Hephæstus consent, saying, “Be of good cheer! I will obey thy wish; for kind thou wast to me when my mother thrust me forth from heaven because she saw I was deformed and lame. I will make such arms for Achilles as the gods themselves might proudly wear.”

So great Vulcan wrought at his mighty forge. First he made a ponderous shield, and wrought upon it the earth, and sky, and sea, and sun, and moon, and stars. He pictured upon it, also, two cities; one at peace, and one in dire confusion where war raged. In the peaceful city, they led a bride to her home with music and dancing, and women stood to see the show, and in the market-place judges sat, and men bartered. But around the other city, an army was besieging, and soldiers stood upon the walls, defending. Also, he wrought fields where men ploughed, and others reaped, and vineyards where youths and maidens gathered baskets of grapes while minstrels played on harps of gold. Also, he wrought herds of oxen going to the pasture, and sheepfolds, and a dance of youths and maidens who wore coronets of gold and belts of silver. Then, too, he pictured a fierce fight between lions and angry bulls. Around the shield he wrought the mighty ocean. He made also a corselet, brighter than fire, and a helmet of gold. At dawn the goddess Thetis brought to her son this marvellous armor, which when Achilles saw, his eyes flashed wild with joy; and seizing them, he put them on most eagerly, and rushed forth to rouse the Greeks to battle. Then an assembly was called, and Achilles stood up in the midst, saying, he had put away his wrath, and King Agamemnon, who had been wounded in the battle, declared that he had been wrong, and straightway commanded to be sent to the tent of Achilles all that he had promised him, including the maid Briseïs, which was done. The Greeks gathered again to battle. Then did the fight wage sore against the Trojans, who fled within the city gates; only brave Hector remained outside to meet the mighty Achilles, who rushed towards him to engage in single combat. Then did King Priam and Queen Hecuba beseech their much-loved son that he would come within the city walls, and not risk his life by thus meeting this dread foe; but Hector answered, —

“Woe is me if I go within the walls!”

But as Achilles came near, brandishing his great Pelian spear, while the flash of his arms was as a flame of fire, Hector trembled, and dared not abide to meet him, but fled around the walls, Achilles pursuing. Thrice they ran round the city, while the immortal gods looked down upon them from dread Olympus, and Jupiter said: “My heart is grieved for Hector. Come, ye gods! shall we save him?”

But Minerva – she who was called the goddess of wisdom, for she sprang forth from the mighty head of Jove completely armed – thus counselled, —

“Great Sire, is it well to rescue a man already doomed to die? If it be thy august will, then do it; but the other gods approve not.”

To whom Zeus answered, —

“My heart is loath, but be it as thou wilt.”

Then did the goddess descend down from high Olympus in hot haste, and Athené lighted from the air at Achilles’ side, and whispered: “This is our day of glory, great Achilles! Hector shall be slain; but tarry a moment, that I may give him heart to meet thee in battle; so shalt thou slay him.”

Then Minerva took the form of Deïphobus, and came near to Hector, saying, “Achilles presseth thee hard, my brother; let us stay and fight him.”

Then was brave Hector glad to find one of his brothers faithful to him, and answered, —

“I always loved thee best of all my brothers, good Deïphobus, and much more now to know thou darest to stand by my side in this hour of deadly peril.”

Thus was Hector encouraged to meet Achilles, and Hector said to him: “Thrice, great Achilles, hast thou pursued me round the walls of Troy, and I dared not withstand thee; but now I will meet thee like a warrior. If Jupiter gives me the victory, I will do no dishonor to thy body; only thine armor will I take. Do thou the same to me.”

But Achilles frowned, and answered, —

“I make no covenants with thee. There is no agreement between wolves and sheep. Show thyself a warrior if thou canst. Athené shall kill thee by my spear.”

Then did they meet in deadliest conflict. Achilles threw his mighty spear; but Hector, crouching, avoided it, and the great spear fixed itself in the ground beyond. But, unseen by Hector, Athené brought it back to proud Achilles. Whereupon, Hector cried, “Thou hast missed thy aim, great Achilles. Look out for my spear!”

And as he spake, he threw his long-shafted spear with so good an aim, that it struck the very middle of Achilles’ shield; but it pierced it not, and it bounded far away. And when Hector turned to his supposed brother, Deïphobus, to get from him another spear, lo! he was gone; and Hector knew then that his doom had come. Then thought he to himself: “Though Athené has cheated me, and Jupiter and Apollo are against me, if I must die, I will die in such manner as shall do honor to my name.” Then he drew his mighty sword, and rushed upon Achilles. But at that same instant Achilles charged to meet him, and holding his shining shield before him, with his helmet plumes waving in the air, he raised his long-pointed spear, which gleamed like a star, and drove it through the neck of the brave Hector, so that the point stood out behind; and Hector fell dying in the dust. Then with his last breath, he besought Achilles to spare his body from the Greeks; for King Priam would ransom it with much gold and treasure, to give it burial rites. But Achilles, moved with fierce wrath, cried, —

“Dog, seek not to entreat me! No gold could ransom thee.”

Then Hector died, and Achilles drew out the spear from the corpse, and stripped off the arms. Then great Achilles did a shocking deed; for he bound the body of the dead Hector to his chariot, letting the brave and noble head lie in the dust; and so he dragged the corpse of the valiant Trojan round the walls of Troy, even to the Grecian ships. And sorrowing Priam saw him from the walls; and fair Andromaché, the wife of Hector, also beheld this dreadful spectacle, and thereupon fell in a deadly swoon; and from her beautiful head dropped the golden wreath and diadem, which Aphrodité gave her on her bridal day.

Then did old King Priam gather rich gifts, and aided by the gods, mount his swift chariot and go to the tent of great Achilles, to beg the body of his much loved son, brave Hector, praying to Jupiter that Achilles might have pity on him. This did Jove grant; for Achilles received him kindly, and gave up the body of dead Hector, which King Priam carried back into the city of Troy. For nine days the people wailed and mourned, and gathered much wood for a funeral pile, upon which they laid brave Hector; and when his body was burnt to ashes, they gathered up the white bones and put them in a chest of gold, and covered it with purple. This chest they placed in a coffin and laid upon it many stones, even until they had raised a mighty mound above it. Thus did they bury the valiant Hector, bravest of Trojan princes.

Such is a brief outline of the story of the famous Trojan War, as told by the illustrious Homer in his matchless poem of the “Iliad.” Now we return to the few further facts regarding King Agamemnon which can be culled from history.

There are two different accounts of the final overthrow and capture of Troy. According to one of these, Antenor and Æneas treacherously betrayed the Palladium to the Greeks, and at the same time threw open the gates of the city at night. The other account relates that the capture was effected by the stratagem of the wooden horse, which was planned by the cunning of Ulysses. A huge, hollow structure resembling a horse, was filled with armed men, and left standing in the plain, while the Greeks went on board their ships and sailed to the island of Tenedos, which lay not far distant. By an artful manœuvre, the Trojans were made to believe that this horse was an offering to Minerva, and that they would achieve a great triumph by carrying it into the city. Accordingly they made a breach in the wall, and transported the horse within. In the dead of night the Greeks broke out of their concealment, and set the city on fire. The fleet, on a signal given, sailed back from Tenedos; the army landed. Troy was taken and destroyed.

This event is usually placed about 1184 B.C. In the division of the spoils, after the taking of Troy, Cassandra, one of the daughters of King Priam, fell to the lot of Agamemnon. She was endued with the gift of prophecy, and warned Agamemnon not to return to Mycenæ. This warning, however, was disregarded by the king, who, upon his return from Troy, was carried by a storm to that part of the coast of Argolis where Ægisthus, the son of Thyestes, resided. This king, Ægisthus, had entered into a wicked agreement with Clytemnestra, wife of Agamemnon, to put that monarch to death upon his return from Troy, so that Ægisthus could seize the throne of Mycenæ, and marry Queen Clytemnestra. There are two accounts of the death of Agamemnon. One states that Ægisthus had set a watchman, with a promise of a large reward, to give him the earliest tidings of the return of the king. As soon as he learned that Agamemnon’s fleet was on the coast, he went out to welcome him, and invited him to his mansion. At the banquet in the evening, with the consent of Clytemnestra, he placed twenty armed men in concealment, who fell on King Agamemnon and killed him, together with Cassandra and all their attendants. Another account makes Agamemnon to have fallen by the hands of his wife Clytemnestra, after he had just come forth from a bath, and while he was endeavoring to put on a garment, the sleeves of which she had previously sewed together, as well as the opening for his head; thus giving her time to commit the bloody deed before any succor could reach him. His death, however, was avenged by his son Orestes.

With regard to the extent of Agamemnon’s sway, Homer states that he ruled over many islands, and over all Argos; meaning not the city Argos, over which Diomed ruled, but a large portion of the Peloponnesus, including particularly the cities of Mycenæ and Tiryns. Homer also says that Agamemnon possessed the most powerful fleet; and as he was chosen the sovereign of all the Grecian kings, and commander-in-chief of all the Grecian hosts during the Trojan War, he may doubtless be called the greatest and most famous of all the more ancient Grecian rulers.

CYRUS THE GREAT
599-529 B.C

 
“Death makes no conquest of this conqueror;
For now he lives in fame, though not in life.”
 

Shakespeare.

IN a lonely and desolate country, in the depths of a dark forest, at the edge of a yawning precipice, there once lay an infant, robed in costly garments, which betokened noble or royal birth. The baby lay in a small basket cradle, made of golden wires and lined with richly embroidered cushions. It seemed to be slumbering, for it moved not, even when the afternoon shadows gathered more densely around it; and a rapacious bird of prey might have been seen hovering above its dangerous retreat, and the noise of wild beasts was heard in the dark forests around. Was there no one near to protect and care for this lovely child? Ah, see! as that vulture swoops down towards its helpless victim, a lonely watcher rushes forth from the forest, and drawing his bow, an arrow flies into the heart of the bird, which falls dead into the awful chasm below. But why does not the babe awake? and why is it left in this desolate spot? Just then a lion steals out of the brushwood, and after a stealthy glance at the tempting prey so near his reach, he prepares to spring. But again the watcher leaps forth from the shadow, and hurls a sharp javelin with so true an aim that the lordly beast is mortally wounded, and retreats to the forest, roaring with pain. And still the infant sleeps on.

Just outside of the dreary forest is a poor herdsman’s hut. Here, too, might have been found an infant; but it is crowing and smiling as it raises its chubby fists to its mouth and tries to catch the sunshine, which streams in through the open door, and falls upon the wall over its head. This baby is clothed in the coarse garments of a peasant’s child. And yet the infant in the costly robes, in the wild forest, is really the dead child of a poor herdsman; and this crowing, laughing baby, dressed in peasant clothes, and lying in the lowly hut, is none other than the future Cyrus the Great, upon whom hang the destinies of a vast empire. The remarkable story regarding the birth and early boyhood of Cyrus the Great is recounted by Herodotus, one of the greatest and earliest of Grecian historians. Herodotus and Xenophon – a noted Grecian general, as well as historian – are the chief sources of information regarding most of the important historical events of that period of the world. Some parts of their accounts are thought to be historical romances, founded on facts; but as they have become a part of the history of those times, I shall gather the story of Cyrus from the events related by both these writers.

About 599 B.C. there were three kingdoms in the centre of Asia: Assyria, Media, and Persia. Astyages was king of Media. One night Astyages awoke from a terrible dream: he had dreamed that a fearful inundation had overwhelmed his kingdom. As the deluge seemed in some mysterious manner to be connected in his mind with his only daughter, Mandane, he imagined that it portended that evil should come to his throne through her children. And so he arranged that she should marry Cambyses, ruling prince of Persia. In this manner he hoped to remove her so far distant, and place her in so weak a kingdom, that he need have no fears.

A year after his daughter’s marriage to the king of Persia, Astyages had another dream, – of a great vine which overspread his kingdom. This vine also appeared to be associated in his mind with his daughter. So he called the soothsayers, who declared that it portended the future power of his daughter’s son, who should become a king.

Astyages was now so alarmed that he determined to destroy the child. So, with seeming kindness, he invited his daughter Mandane to make him a visit. He placed her in a palace and surrounded her with his own spies and servants. As soon as the infant son was born, Astyages sent for an officer of his court, named Harpagus, whom he thought was unscrupulous enough to obey his evil commands. Astyages ordered Harpagus to go and request the attendants of Mandane to allow him to see the infant; and then, under pretence that his grandfather Astyages desired that the infant should be brought to him, Harpagus should take the child away, and in some manner cause it to be put to death.

Harpagus did not dare to refuse, and accordingly went to the palace in which Mandane was residing. Her attendants, not suspecting his evil designs, arrayed the infant in its most beautiful robes, and delivered it into his care. Harpagus took the child home and consulted with his wife what he should do. He did not dare to disobey the king, and also, as Mandane was the daughter of the king, he feared to carry out the terrible deed himself.

In his perplexity he sent for one of his herdsmen, named Mitridates, living near wild and desolate forests. When Mitridates arrived, Harpagus gave the infant to him, commanding him to expose it in the forests for three days, and when the child was dead, to send him word.

The herdsman dared not refuse this wicked mission, and took the child home to his hut. His wife Spaco had at that time just lost an infant of the same age, and its dead body was still unburied. When she saw the beautiful babe of Mandane, she implored her husband to let her keep it in place of her dead child, who was accordingly arrayed in the costly robes of the young prince, while the royal baby was dressed in the coarse garments of the little dead peasant. The body of the dead infant was then placed in the royal cradle, or basket, in which the little prince had been carried from the palace; and after being exposed in the forest for three days, attended by watchers to keep away the wild beasts, the herdsman sent word to Harpagus that the infant was dead. Harpagus sent trusty messengers to see if the report was true; and when they saw the dead infant in the royal robes, they returned with the assurance that his orders had been complied with, and that they had seen the dead child. Harpagus gave orders to have the body buried, and sent word to King Astyages that the infant was dead.

The truth about the young Cyrus was not discovered until ten years after, and came about in a very strange way. Cyrus had now grown to be a strong, bright boy of ten years of age, and was supposed to be the son of the peasant herdsman. Several of the sons of the Median nobles were accustomed to meet in the neighborhood where he lived, for their sports, and Cyrus was always their leader in all pursuits. The story goes that he was once chosen as their king in a boyish game; and one of the nobles’ sons, being one of his subjects, and having disobeyed his commands, the boy king Cyrus punished him very severely. The father of the young noble complained to King Astyages of this ill treatment which his son had suffered at the hands of a peasant boy. Whereupon, the herdsman Mitridates and his supposed son were summoned to appear at court.

When the young Cyrus entered the presence of the king, Astyages was astonished at his manly bearing and his unusual beauty, and with an unaccountable feeling of interest in the supposed peasant boy, he inquired if the complaint of the noble was true. The little disguised prince looked up into the face of the dread monarch, in whose presence all his subjects trembled, and with perfect self-possession, replied, —

“My lord, what I have done I am able to justify. I did punish this boy, and I had a right to do so. I was king, and he was my subject, and he would not obey me. If you think that for this I deserve punishment myself, here I am; I am ready to suffer for it.”

Astyages was so surprised at this unlooked-for answer that he hastily commanded that Mitridates should be brought before him; and under threats of severe punishment, he demanded that he should tell him the truth about the lad; for he had grave doubts about his being the peasant’s son. Mitridates, frightened by the stern manner of the king, confessed the truth, and related all the circumstances regarding the infant who had been committed to him by Harpagus.

Astyages had deeply regretted his evil intentions towards his grandson, which, as he supposed, had ended in his death, and gladly claimed Cyrus as his own. But with strange inconsistency, he was equally incensed against Harpagus, who had dared to disobey his commands, by not causing the infant to be put to death; and he determined to celebrate in a strange and most shocking manner his joy at the recovery of his grandson, and his anger at the disobedience of Harpagus. So with wicked craftiness he sent word to Harpagus that his grandson had been discovered, and commanded that Harpagus should send his son, a boy about thirteen years of age, up to the palace to be a companion for young Cyrus. Furthermore, he announced that he was about to celebrate his joy at the recovery of his grandson, by a grand festival, at which he invited Harpagus to be present.

Harpagus suspecting no evil, and rejoicing at the happy sequel of that deed which had occasioned him much disquiet, having sent his son to the palace, according to the command of the king, related to his wife the strange events which had taken place. Neither of them were suspicious of any evil design in this seeming kindliness of Astyages, and thought it a fitting honor for their son, that he should be chosen as the companion of Prince Cyrus. Harpagus went to the festival, and was given a seat of honor at the table. Various dishes were set before the guests, and the attendants were especially attentive to see that Harpagus was most bountifully served. At the end of the feast, Astyages asked Harpagus how he had liked his fare. Harpagus expressed himself as being well pleased. The king then ordered the servants to bring in a basket, which they uncovered before Harpagus, and he beheld with horror the head, hands, and feet of his own son.

The story relates that Harpagus did not display his terrible despair by word or look; and when the wicked king asked him if he knew what he had been eating, he replied that he did, and whatever was the will of the king was pleasing to him. Such shocking cruelties reveal the wickedness of those despotic times.

Harpagus satisfied his revenge against the cruel Astyages, many years afterwards, in a manner which will be disclosed as this story continues. A king whose greed of power could condemn an own grandson to death would not scruple at other crimes. Astyages now again consulted the soothsayers as to his safety in recognizing Cyrus as his grandson and giving him his royal place at court. The Magi now replied, that as Cyrus had already been a king, even though it was only in a childish game, still, as he had been called a king, the oracles had been fulfilled, and Astyages need fear no further danger to his kingdom. Astyages therefore sent Cyrus to his parents in Persia, who received their long-lost son with overwhelming delight; and the youthful Cyrus was no doubt astonished and rejoiced to find himself the son and grandson of powerful kings, rather than a simple peasant boy, the son of a poor herdsman.

Cyrus is described by the historians as being tall and handsome, and excelling in all youthful exploits.

Xenophon describes the life of young Cyrus in the court of his father Cambyses, king of Persia. The sons of all the nobles and officers of the court were educated together in the royal palace. They were not taught to read, as there were no books, but they had certain teachers who explained to them the principles of right and wrong, and described to them the various laws of the land, and the rules by which controversies should be settled. These were put to practical use in deciding the various cases which occurred among the boys themselves; and judges were chosen from their number who should discuss and decide these questions. Right decisions were rewarded, and wrong ones punished. Cyrus himself was once punished for a wrong decision. The case was this: —