Briseis and Thetis (lines 312–430)

But the son of Atreus ordered the army to purify itself.And they purified, and cast the purifications into the sea.And to Apollo they offered full hecatombs of bulls and goatsalong the shore of the barren sea; and the savor reached heaven, winding up in smoke.So they toiled in the army. But Agamemnon did not forgetthe quarrel he had threatened: Briseis of the fair cheeks. He calledTalthybios and Eurybates, heralds and swift messengers, who served him:"Go to the shelter of Peleus' son Achilles: takethe fair-cheeked Briseis by the hand, and lead her here.And if he will not give her, I will come myself, with a greater force,and take her — and it will be worse for him." So he sent them,and laid on them a harsh command. And they went unwillingly along the shoreof the barren sea, and came to the shelters and ships of the Myrmidons.They found him sitting beside his shelter and his black ship.And Achilles saw nothing of them, and they were afraid, and did not salute himwith their words; and he knew them in his heart, and said:"Be welcome, heralds, messengers of Zeus and of men: come near.You are not to blame in my eyes — but the man who sent you:it is Agamemnon, who sent you for the girl Briseis.Go, Patroclus, dear to Zeus, and bring out the girl,and give her to them to lead away. But let the two of them be witnessesbefore the blessed gods, before mortal men, before that hard-hearted king,if ever hereafter there is need of me to beat back shameful ruin.For he rages with a black heart, and does not knowto look before and after, how the Achaeans by their shipsmight fight in safety." So he spoke, and Patroclus obeyedhis dear companion, and led Briseis of the fair cheeks from the shelterand gave her to the heralds to lead away. And she went unwillingly.But Achilles, weeping, went apart from his companionsand sat on the shore of the gray sea, looking out on the winedark water.Stretching out his hands, he prayed to his dear mother:"Mother, since you bore me to a life so short,the Olympian who works from far away should have given me honor —but now he has given me nothing. The son of Atreus, wide-ruling Agamemnon,has dishonored me: he has taken my prize, and keeps it, tearing it away."So he spoke weeping, and his noble mother heard him,where she sat in the depths of the sea beside her old father.Swiftly she rose from the gray sea, like a mist, and satbefore him as he wept, and stroked him with her hand, and called him by name:"My child — why do you weep? What sorrow has come upon your heart?Speak; do not hide it, so we may both know."Then, groaning deeply, the swift-footed Achilles answered:"You know. Why should I tell the one who knows? We wentto Thebe, the holy city of Eetion, and sacked it, and carried off everything.The sons of the Achaeans divided everything fairly among themselves,and chose for the son of Atreus the lovely-cheeked Chryseis.Then Chryses, priest of the Far-Shooter Apollo, came to the fast shipsof the bronze-clad Achaeans, to ransom his daughter, bringing boundless ransom,holding in his hands the wreathed staff of the Far-Shooter, and the laurel bough,and he begged all the Achaeans — but above all the two sons of Atreus,the marshals of both armies: "Sons of Atreus, and you other well-greaved Achaeans,may the gods who have homes on Olympus grant you to sack Priam's cityand return home safe. But set my daughter free for me, and accept the ransom,out of reverence for the son of Zeus, the Far-Shooting Apollo."Then all the Achaeans shouted assent, to honor the priestand take the shining ransom. But it did not please the heart of Atreus' son,Agamemnon. He sent him off harshly, and laid a heavy word on him.And the old man went away in anger. And Apollo heard him speaking —for he loved him greatly — and sent a sharp arrow against the Argives.Then the men died dying, one after another, and the god's shaftswent through the whole wide army of the Achaeans, everywhere,and the oracles of the god struck down the people without end.But now the Far-Shooter has killed, in anger, the son of Atreus:he sent the good herald straightway to take Briseis.But come — if you know how, protect your own child. Go to Olympusand call upon Zeus, if ever you have gladdened his heart by word or deed.Often I have heard you boasting in my father's halls,saying that you alone, of all the dark-clouded immortals,saved the son of Cronus, lord of the storm-cloud, from shameful ruin:on the day when the other Olympians wished to bind him —Hera, and Poseidon, and Pallas Athena. But you came, goddess,and freed him from his bonds, quickly calling the hundred-handed oneup to high Olympus, whom the gods call Briareos,but all men call Aegaeon — for he is stronger than his father.He sat by the side of the son of Cronus, rejoicing in his glory,and the blessed gods feared him, and did not bind him.Remind him of these things; sit close, hold his knees,and beg him to stand by the Trojans, and pen the Achaeansback among the sterns and the sea, while they are killed dying —so that they may all have use of their king, so that even the son of Atreus,wide-ruling Agamemnon, may know his own blindness:that he honored the best of the Achaeans not at all."Then Thetis answered him, her cheeks wet with tears:"Oh my child! Why did I rear you, born to so much pain?Would that you could sit by the ships without tears, without sorrow:so short is the whole span of your life allotted, and not long —and now, beyond all men, you are doomed to an early death and bitter sorrow.I bore you under an evil fate. But I will speak these wordsto Zeus who delights in thunder, who bears the storm-cloud: perhaps he will hear.But you: stay by your ships, enraged at the Achaeans, and holdaltogether apart from the war. Yesterday Zeus went to Oceanus,to the blameless Ethiopians, at a feast — and all the gods went with him.On the twelfth day he will come back to Olympus, and then I will goto the house of Zeus, bronze-floored, and I will hold his knees,and I think I will persuade him." So speaking, she went away,and left him there, his heart heavy for the fair-girdled woman they had taken,though he did not will it.

Achilles went back to his huts and ships with Patroclusand their men. Agamemnon had a fast ship dragged to the water,picked twenty rowers, loaded a hundred sacred oxen,put Chryseis aboard with Odysseus in command —and they sailed out over the open sea.Then Agamemnon ordered the whole army to purify itself.They washed, threw the filth into the sea,and burned a hundred oxen and goats for Apolloalong the beach; the smoke rose straight to heaven.The army worked at this. But Agamemnon hadn't forgottenhis threat: fair-cheeked Briseis. He calledhis heralds Talthybios and Eurybates:"Go to Achilles' hut. Take fair-cheeked Briseis by the handand bring her here. If he won't give her up,I'll come myself with a bigger force — and it will be worse for him."They walked along the shore, hating the errand,and found him sitting by his hut and black ship.He saw them coming from far off, and they stood thereashamed, afraid to speak. He knew what they were feeling:"Welcome, heralds, messengers of Zeus and men. Come near.You two aren't to blame — Agamemnon is,who sent you for Briseis. Patroclus, my friend,bring the girl out and give her to them. But let them both be witnessesbefore the gods and men — before that ruthless king —if the day ever comes when they need meto hold back disaster. He's drunk on his own rage;he can't look ahead or behind, and seehow the Greeks can fight safely by their ships."Patroclus did as his friend asked. He led Briseis outand handed her to the heralds, and she went with them unwillingly.Achilles, weeping, left his friends,sat down alone on the beach, staring at the gray sea.He stretched out his hands and prayed to his mother:"Mother — since you gave birth to me for a short life,the thundering Olympian owes me honor.And he hasn't given me any. Agamemnonhas disgraced me: he took my prize and keeps it, ripped it away."His noble mother heard him weeping,deep in the sea beside her old father.She rose through the gray water like a mist, sat downin front of him, stroked him with her hand: "My child —why are you crying? What pain is in your heart?Tell me. Don't hide it from me."Achilles groaned: "You know everything — why should I tell you?We sacked Thebe, Eetion's holy city, and took everything.The Greeks divided the spoils fairlyand set aside Chryseis, the lovely girl, for Agamemnon.Then Chryses, priest of Apollo, came to the shipsto ransom her, bringing a fortune in ransom,holding Apollo's wreathed staff and the sacred ribbons,begging all the Greeks — but Agamemnon most of all:'Sons of Atreus, Greeks all — may the gods on Olympuslet you sack Priam's city and get home safe.Free my daughter. Take the ransom. Respect Apollo's son.'All the Greeks shouted yes — respect the priest,take the ransom. Agamemnon said no.He shouted the old man away with threats.The old man left, furious — and Apollo heard him,because he loved him, and shot his arrows at the Greeks.Men died, one after another; the god's shaftswent everywhere through the wide army.Then the Far-Shooter's oracle told us: send back the girl, angry as he was.Agamemnon did send a herald straightaway to take Briseis.So — do something, if you can. Protect your son.Go up to Olympus. Remind Zeus — if you've everpleased him with a word or deed. I've heard you boasting at homethat you alone, of all the gods, saved Zeusfrom disgrace — the day the other Olympianstried to chain him: Hera, Poseidon, Pallas Athena.You came, goddess, and you unbound him —you called the hundred-handed giant up to Olympus,the one the gods call Briareos and men call Aegaeon,stronger than his own father.He sat beside Zeus, proud, and the godswere too scared to try chaining him again.Remind Zeus of all this. Sit beside him, hold his knees,and beg him to help the Trojans —pin the Greeks back at their ships, killing them,so they all learn what their king is worth,so Agamemnon himself understands his blindness:that he honored the best Greek here not at all."His mother answered, tears on her cheeks:"Oh my child — why did I raise you for so much pain?I wish you could stay by your ships without tears or sorrow —your whole life is so short, and now you'refated to die young and suffer more than anyone.I bore you under a curse. But I'll go to Zeusand say all this to him: he'll listen. Meanwhile —stay by your ships, furious at the Greeks. Don't fight at all.Zeus left yesterday for Ocean, to feast with the blameless Ethiopians —all the gods went with him. In twelve days he'll be home.Then I'll go to his bronze-floored house, hold his knees,and I think I'll win him over." She left him there,heartbroken over the fair-girdled girl they'd taken.