The Iliad

swift-footed Lord Achilles said to him,

“You do not need to worry now. Speak freely

and tell us what you know about the gods.

By Lord Apollo, the dear son of Zeus,

to whom you pray when you reveal to us

the gods’ intentions, Calchas, this I swear—

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no one will lay a heavy hand on you

beside the hollow ships, not while I live

and see the light. Not one of all the Greeks

will harm you, even if you speak about

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Lord Agamemnon, who now styles himself

the best by far of all the Greeks.”

At this,

the seer took courage and replied, “The god

is not upset about a broken vow,

or lack of lavish offerings to him.

It is the priest whom Agamemnon scorned,

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whose daughter he would not give back for ransom.

That is the reason that the archer god

gives us these troubles and will give yet more.

He will not drive away the deadly plague

that now afflicts the Greeks till Agamemnon

returns the bright-eyed woman to her father

without a ransom or reward, and carries

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a hecatomb to Chryse. Then we may

appease the god.”

With this, he sat back down.

But Agamemnon, son of Atreus,

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the mighty lord and warrior, stood up

aggrieved, his black heart full of furious rage.

His eyes shone bright as fire. He scowled at Calchas

and said to him,

“You prophet of disaster!

Your words have never done me any good.

You always love foretelling pain and trouble

but you have never mentioned or fulfilled

one single good thing. Now you tell the Greeks

more tales about the wishes of the gods.

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You claim the archer laid this pain on us

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because I did not want to take the ransom.

I want the girl Chryseis in my home.

I like her more than my own Clytemnestra,

my wife. You see, she is no worse than her

in figure, height, intelligence, or skill.

But I am still prepared to give her back,

if that is best. I want the army safe,

not dead. Now go, find me another trophy,

so I am not the only Greek commander

who lacks a trophy. That would be unfair.

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You can all see my trophy going elsewhere.”

Swift-footed Lord Achilles answered him,

“Lord Agamemnon, son of Atreus,

no one is more acquisitive than you!

How can the valiant Greeks give you a trophy?

We see no heaps of treasure lying round

ready to be divided up. The wealth

that we have looted from the neighboring towns

has been shared out, and it would be unfair

to make the warriors return it all.

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You have to send this woman to the god

at once. One day we Greeks will pay you back

with treasure worth three times as much, or four,

if ever Zeus grants us the chance to take

the high-walled town of Troy.”

Lord Agamemnon

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answered and said to him, “Godlike Achilles,

however brave and skillful you may be,

stop playing tricks! And do not try to rob me!

You will not make me do as you propose

and you will never get ahead of me.

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You obviously want to keep your trophy

and leave me sitting here with none at all!

Are you commanding me to give her back?

Fine—if the Greeks provide another trophy

to satisfy my heart and make it fair.

But if they do not give one, I shall come

and seize a trophy for myself—your trophy!

Or that of Ajax or Odysseus!

The man I visit will be furious.

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We will discuss all this another time.

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But come now, let us drag the black ship down

and launch it on the bright salt sea and gather

a crew of rowers, and then stow aboard

the hecatomb and beautiful Chryseis.

One council member needs to go and lead them—

perhaps godlike Odysseus or Ajax

or Idomeneus or you, Achilles,

the wildest, most aggressive man alive.

This leader must appease the god of distance

by making proper sacrifice to him.”

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Swift-footed Lord Achilles scowled and said,

“Incredible! You dress in shame! You are

obsessed with getting profits for yourself!

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Which of the Greeks would willingly agree

to make a trip because you told them to,

or fight against an enemy for you?

I did not come to Troy because I wanted

to fight against the warriors of Troy.

They never did me any harm at all.

They never raided cows from me nor horses,

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nor blighted fertile fields that feed the men

of Phthia, far away across so many

shadowy hills, reverberating seas.

I came with you, you brazen cheat, to please you!

To claim back compensation from the Trojans

for Menelaus and for you—you dog-face!

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But none of that means anything to you.

You do not even care! And now you threaten

to take away the trophy that I worked for,

after the sons of Greece gave it to me.

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You always get a better one than mine,

when we sack any wealthy Trojan town.

My hands work hardest in the frenzied fighting,

but when we share the spoils, you get much more.

I come back to the ships worn out from battle,

with something valuable to me, but small.

So I will go back home to Phthia now,

in my curved ships, because that is much better.

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I will not stay here to be disrespected,

serving up wealth and revenue for you!”

And Agamemnon, lord of men, replied, 230

“Then off you go, if that is what you want!

I certainly will not be begging you

to stay at Troy for me. You see, I have

plenty of other helpers at my side,

ready to treat me with respect and honor—

including Zeus, the god of strategy!

I hate you more than any other leader,

any of those whom Zeus protects and loves.

You always relish war and fights and conflict.

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You may be strong, but some god gave you that.

Go home! Take all your ships and your companions

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and rule your Myrmidons. I do not care!

To me, you are entirely unimportant.

Your anger does not bother me at all.

But this I swear to you. Just as Apollo

will take Chryseis back, away from me,

when I send her to him on my own ship,

escorted by my very own companions,

so I shall take your beautiful Briseis,

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your trophy. I myself will come and get her

in person from your tent, so you will see

how far superior I am to you,

and other men will shrink from talking back

to me, as if we were on equal terms.”

At this, Achilles, son of Peleus,

was deeply troubled, and his inmost heart

inside his hairy chest was split in two,

as he considered whether he should draw

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the sharp sword that was hanging by his thigh,

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and rouse the men, and slaughter Agamemnon—

or curb his anger and restrain his impulse.

And as he pondered in his mind, he started

to draw the mighty blade out from its sheath—

but then Athena swooped down from the sky.

She had been sent forth by the white-armed goddess

Hera, who loved both men. Athena stood

behind Achilles, son of Peleus,

and grabbed him by his chestnut hair. She was

invisible to everyone but him.

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Achilles, startled, turned and recognized

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Athena. She had bright, unearthly eyes.

His words flew out.

“Why have you come here, daughter

of Zeus, the god who holds the royal aegis?

Was it to see the cruel violence

of Agamemnon, son of Atreus?

I tell you, this will surely come to pass—

soon he will die for all his arrogance!”

Gray-eyed Athena said, “I came from heaven

to hold your fury back, if you will listen.

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The white-armed goddess Hera sent me here

because she loves and cares for both of you.

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Now stop this quarrel, do not draw your sword.

Taunt him with words and tell him what will happen.

I promise you that this will be fulfilled.

You will receive three times as many gifts

one day, because you suffered this affront.

Listen to me. Hold back.”

And in reply,

swift-footed Lord Achilles said to her,

“Goddess, when you two speak, a man must listen,

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however furious his heart may feel.

It is the better choice. The gods take heed

of those who show obedience to them.”

Grasping the silver hilt with his strong hand,

he pushed the big sword back into its scabbard.

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He did not disobey Athena’s words.

And she rejoined the gods on Mount Olympus

inside the house of aegis-bearing Zeus.

Achilles, son of Peleus, again

berated Agamemnon with harsh words.

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His anger was not over yet. He said,

“You dog-face! Drunk and heavy with your wine!

You have the heart and courage of a deer!

You never dare to put your armor on

and march to battle with the common troops,

or join the finest fighters on a raid.

That seems like death to you. You much prefer

to saunter through the mighty Greek encampment

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and steal from any man who speaks against you.

Cannibal king, you eat your people up!

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You are a leader of nonentities!

Otherwise, Agamemnon, this would be

the very last time you abuse someone.

And I shall swear to you a mighty oath,

by this staff here, which will not grow more leaves

or branches. It was cut upon the mountain

and left its stump behind, and it will never

sprout with fresh shoots, because the bronze has stripped

its leaves and bark. And now the sons of Greece

pick up this staff and hold it in their hands

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when they are passing judgments to protect

the customs and the laws that come from Zeus.

By this I swear to you a mighty oath.

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The Greeks will all be longing for Achilles

one day and you will have no power to help,

and you will grieve and many men will die

at Hector’s murderous hands. Then you will tear

your heart inside you in a bitter rage

because you failed to pay the best Greek fighter

proper respect.”

Achilles spoke these words,

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hurled to the ground the golden-studded scepter

and then sat down himself. Across from him,

the son of Atreus, Lord Agamemnon,

was seething in his wrath. Among them, Nestor,

the eloquent, clear speaker, lord of Pylos,

stood up to talk. His fluent voice poured sweeter

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than honey from his tongue. Two generations

of mortal men had grown and lived with him,

and passed away, and now he ruled the third

in holy Pylos. With goodwill he spoke,

and said to the assembly,

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“This is dreadful!

What pain is coming to the land of Greece!

Priam and Priam’s sons and all the Trojans

would be delighted if they learned you two,

the best of all the Greeks at war and council,

are quarreling among yourselves like this.

But you must listen now to my advice.

Both of you are much younger than I am.

I have spent time in days gone by with men

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who were superior to both of you,

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and those great men did not look down on me.

I never saw their like. I do not now.

I used to know Pirithous and Dryas,

the shepherd of the people, Caeneus,

Exadius and godlike Polyphemus,

and Theseus, who seemed like an immortal.

Those were the strongest men alive on earth.

They fought the strongest mountain beasts and killed them.

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I was in distant Pylos but they asked me

to join them, and alone I went to battle.

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No man on earth today could fight with them.

But they paid heed to my advice and listened

and did as I advised. So you should also

listen to me. Obedience is best.

You, Agamemnon, are a mighty man,

but do not take that woman. Leave her be.

The Greeks gave her to him to be his trophy.

And you, Achilles, son of Peleus,

do not confront a ruler face to face.

A ruler with a staff, who has been granted

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glory by Zeus, receives a special status.

So even if you are the stronger man,

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and even though a goddess was your mother,

he is more powerful because he rules

over a much larger group of people.

But son of Atreus, Lord Agamemnon,

restrain your rage, give up your furious anger

against Achilles—please, I beg of you.

He is the great defense for all the Greeks

against horrific war.”

Lord Agamemnon

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replied, “Old man, all that is well and good.

But this man wants to be superior

to everybody else—to dominate,

to lead us all, to rule us all, to give

orders to everyone. In my opinion,

nobody will comply with his commands.

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If deathless gods have made him good at fighting,

must his insulting slanders sprint ahead?”

Godlike Achilles interrupted him,

and said, “I would be surely called a coward

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and a nonentity, if I bowed down

to follow you in everything you say!

Go and give orders to the other men,

but do not ever tell me what to do.

I am all done with listening to you.

But I will tell you this—take it to heart.

I will not use my hands to fight with you

about a woman—or with anyone,

though you gave her to me then took her back.

But I will keep the other things I have

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beside my swift black ship. You cannot come

and steal a single one of them from me.

And if you try—let these men be the witness—

your black blood will soon spurt around my spear.”

With these aggressive words the two men fought,

then both of them stood up, and so they ended

the meeting of the Greeks beside the ships.

Achilles, son of Peleus, went back

to his own steady ships and his own tent

and with him went Patroclus and their men.

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And Agamemnon, son of Atreus,

launched the swift ship to sea, chose twenty rowers,

and drove the cattle for the god on board,

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and led fresh-faced Chryseis to sit down.

Artful Odysseus embarked as leader.

When everybody was aboard, they sailed

across the ways of water—and meanwhile,

the son of Atreus, Lord Agamemnon,

ordered the common troops to cleanse themselves.

They did so and then poured the dirty water

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into the salty sea and sacrificed

the perfect hecatombs of bulls and goats

along the shore beside the barren sea

to please Apollo. And the savor twisted

up through the smoke and rose into the sky.

These were the tasks the men performed in camp.

But Agamemnon did not stop the conflict.

He carried out the threat that he had made

against Achilles earlier, and ordered

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Eurybates and quick Talthybius,

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who were his trusted messengers and aides,

“Go to Achilles’ tent and take the hand

of fine, fresh-faced Briseis. Bring her here.

And if he will not give her up, I shall

go there myself with more men—which will be

the worse for him.”

With these aggressive words

he ordered them. Unwillingly they went

along the beach beside the barren sea,

and reached the place the Myrmidons were camped.

They found him by his black ship, by his tent.

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Achilles was not pleased to see them come.

The men stood awestruck, frightened at the ruler,

and did not speak to him or say a word.

He understood, and said,

“Come in, and welcome!

Heralds are messengers of Zeus and men.

I do not blame you. I blame Agamemnon.

He sent you here to get the girl, Briseis.

Go then, divine Patroclus, bring the girl

and let them take her. Let these two be witness

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to gods and mortals and that cruel lord,

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if one day I am needed to protect

others from ruin. Now destructive thoughts

seethe in his mind. He is incapable

of planning for the near or distant future,

to let the Greeks fight safely by the ships.”

Patroclus did as his dear friend had asked,

and brought fresh-faced Briseis from the tent

and gave her to the men to take away.

They started walking back beside the ships.

The woman walked unwillingly beside them.

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Meanwhile, Achilles went to sit alone,

away from all his comrades, and he wept

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beside the salt gray water, looking out

across the endless sea. He raised his arms

and made a fervent prayer to his dear mother.

“Mother, you birthed me for so short a life

that Zeus, high god of thunder, on Olympus,

should give me glory at the very least—

but I get nothing! Now this lord of lords,

this Agamemnon, son of Atreus,

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has disrespected me! He took my trophy!

He seized it and now keeps it for himself!”

He spoke through tears. His goddess mother heard him

down in the salty depths where she was sitting

beside her father. Instantly she rose

out of the dim saltwater like a mist

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and sat beside him as he wept, and touched him,

stroking him with her hand, and said his name,

and spoke and asked him,

“Child, why are you crying?

What pain has touched your heart? Do not conceal it.

Tell me and let us both know.”

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Sobbing hard,

swift-footed Lord Achilles said, “You know!

Why ask me this, when you know everything?

We went to Thebe, sacked the holy town

of Eetion and looted everything.

The sons of Greece divided up the spoils

equitably, and gave fresh-faced Chryseis

to Agamemnon, son of Atreus.

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But Chryses was the father of Chryseis—

a priest of Lord Apollo, distant archer.

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And so this priest approached the swift Greek ships,

and faced the warriors bedecked in bronze

to free his daughter with a countless ransom.

He had removed his sacred diadem,

the emblem of the distant god Apollo,

and held it wrapped around a golden staff,

and prayed to all the Greeks, and most especially

the pair of men who brought the troops to Troy,

the sons of Atreus. The others all

agreed they should accept the lavish ransom,

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and show respect and reverence to the priest.

But this proposal did not please the heart

of Agamemnon, son of Atreus.

He spoke to him aggressively and sent him

harshly away. The old man was enraged.

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He left the Greeks and prayed to lord Apollo.

Apollo heard his prayer—he loved the priest—

and shot his fatal arrows at the Greeks.

The people kept on dying as his weapons

flew everywhere, all through the great Greek camp.

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The prophet knew the archer god’s intentions,

and told us, and at once I said we must

appease the god. But rage seized Agamemnon.

He jumped up right away and made a threat,

which now has been fulfilled. The bright-eyed Greeks

are taking her by swift ship back to Chryse,

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with offerings for the god. Just now his heralds

came to my tent and took the girl, Briseis,

the one the sons of Greece had given me.

But Mother, throw your arms around your child

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and save me and protect me, if you can.

Go up to Mount Olympus, pray to Zeus,

if you have ever helped him in the past

and pleased his heart by any word or deed.

I often heard you in your father’s halls

claim that you are the only deathless god

who saved the son of Cronus, storm-god Zeus,

from ruin, when the others on Olympus—

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Hera, Poseidon, and Athena—tried

to bind him. Goddess, you released his chains.

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You quickly summoned up to high Olympus

the hundred-handed giant, who is named

Briareus among the gods, but humans

name him Aegeon. You called him because

his strength is even greater than his father’s.

He sat by Zeus, exultant in his glory.

The gods who live at ease were terrified

and gave up their attempt to chain up Zeus.

You must remind him now about all this.

Go sit beside him, touch his knees, and ask him

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to help the Trojans and to trap the Greeks

between the ships and salty sea to die,

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so all of them can profit from their ruler,

and Agamemnon, son of Atreus,

can recognize his own insanity.

He paid the best Greek fighter no respect.”

Thetis in tears replied, “My boy, my child,

why did I birth you for such suffering?

Why did I mother you, take care of you?

I wish you could sit quietly by your ships,

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and never have to suffer tears or trouble,

because it is your destiny to live

so very short a time, not long at all.

But even as your death runs fast behind you

you are the most unhappy man alive.

A curse attended at your birth. I shall

go to Olympus where the snow lies deep

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and talk to Zeus, who loves the thunderbolt.

I hope I can persuade him. And meanwhile,

sit by your ships and rage against the Greeks,

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and stay entirely away from war.

Yesterday, Zeus went off to Ocean, joining

the noble Ethiopians for a feast.

The gods all went with him. But in twelve days

he will come back again to Mount Olympus.

Then I shall go inside the house of Zeus

and stand upon the pavement of bronze

and take him by the knees and supplicate him.

I think I shall persuade him.”

With these words

she went away and left Achilles there,

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still angry in his heart about the woman,

taken by force from him against his will.

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Meanwhile, Odysseus had come to Chryse,

bringing the hecatomb. When they had sailed

inside the deep recesses of the harbor,

they furled the sails and packed them in the ship,

quickly pulled down the mast with stays, and set it

inside its holder, and then rowed to shore.

They cast the anchor-stones and tied the ropes

to stern, then disembarked in breaking waves.

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They drove the hundred cattle off the ship

to offer to the archer god, Apollo.

Chryseis also left the quick black ship.

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And then Odysseus, the mastermind

of strategy, led her towards the altar,

into her loving father’s arms, and said,

“Chryses, commander Agamemnon sent me

to bring your daughter, and to sacrifice

a holy hecatomb on our behalf,

to mollify Apollo, who has cast

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a terrible catastrophe upon us.”

He handed her into her father’s arms,

who joyfully received his darling daughter.

The men soon set the cattle round the altar,

and cleansed themselves and sprinkled barley grains.

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Chryses, arms lifted, loudly prayed for them.

“Silver Bow, guardian of Chryse, lord

of holy Cilla and of Tenedos,

as once before you listened to my prayers,

and honored me and overwhelmed the Greeks,

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so now, fulfill for me this new request.

Drive off their deadly plague.”

Apollo heard him.

The men prayed too, and sprinkled barley grains,

pulled back the cattle’s heads and slit their necks,

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and skinned them, and cut off the thighs and laid

two strips of fat on across them, with raw meat

on top. The old man burned them on a log,

and poured the flashing wine as a libation.

The young men at his side held five-pronged forks.

They burned the thighs and ate the inner parts,

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and carved the rest, and put the meat on spits,

and roasted it with care, then drew it off.

They finished with the work of making food,

then ate, and everybody had his share.

But when their hunger and their thirst were sated,

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the boys filled full the wine-bowls, and they made

libations, and they filled up every cup.

All day the young Greeks pacified the god

with dancing and with singing lovely hymns

to please Apollo. And the archer god

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heard and was glad at heart. But when the sun

set and the darkness came, they all lay down

to sleep beside the cables of the ship.

When rosy-fingered Dawn appeared newborn,

they made their way towards the Greek encampment.

Apollo, distant archer, sent fair wind.

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They raised the mast and let the white sail fly.

The wind filled up the belly of the sail.