The exploits of Diomed, who, though wounded by Pandarus,

      continues fighting—He kills Pandarus and wounds AEneas—Venus

      rescues AEneas, but being wounded by Diomed, commits him to the

      care of Apollo and goes to Olympus, where she is tended by her

      mother Dione—Mars encourages the Trojans, and AEneas returns to

      the fight cured of his wound—Minerva and Juno help the Achaeans,

      and by the advice of the former Diomed wounds Mars, who returns

      to Olympus to get cured.



      Then Pallas Minerva put valour into the heart of Diomed, son of

      Tydeus, that he might excel all the other Argives, and cover

      himself with glory. She made a stream of fire flare from his

      shield and helmet like the star that shines most brilliantly in

      summer after its bath in the waters of Oceanus—even such a fire

      did she kindle upon his head and shoulders as she bade him speed

      into the thickest hurly-burly of the fight.



      Now there was a certain rich and honourable man among the

      Trojans, priest of Vulcan, and his name was Dares. He had two

      sons, Phegeus and Idaeus, both of them skilled in all the arts of

      war. These two came forward from the main body of Trojans, and

      set upon Diomed, he being on foot, while they fought from their

      chariot. When they were close up to one another, Phegeus took aim

      first, but his spear went over Diomed’s left shoulder without

      hitting him. Diomed then threw, and his spear sped not in vain,

      for it hit Phegeus on the breast near the nipple, and he fell

      from his chariot. Idaeus did not dare to bestride his brother’s

      body, but sprang from the chariot and took to flight, or he would

      have shared his brother’s fate; whereon Vulcan saved him by

      wrapping him in a cloud of darkness, that his old father might

      not be utterly overwhelmed with grief; but the son of Tydeus

      drove off with the horses, and bade his followers take them to

      the ships. The Trojans were scared when they saw the two sons of

      Dares, one of them in fright and the other lying dead by his

      chariot. Minerva, therefore, took Mars by the hand and said,

      “Mars, Mars, bane of men, blood-stained stormer of cities, may we

      not now leave the Trojans and Achaeans to fight it out, and see

      to which of the two Jove will vouchsafe the victory? Let us go

      away, and thus avoid his anger.”



      So saying, she drew Mars out of the battle, and set him down upon

      the steep banks of the Scamander. Upon this the Danaans drove the

      Trojans back, and each one of their chieftains killed his man.

      First King Agamemnon flung mighty Odius, captain of the Halizoni,

      from his chariot. The spear of Agamemnon caught him on the broad

      of his back, just as he was turning in flight; it struck him

      between the shoulders and went right through his chest, and his

      armour rang rattling round him as he fell heavily to the ground.



      Then Idomeneus killed Phaesus, son of Borus the Meonian, who had

      come from Varne. Mighty Idomeneus speared him on the right

      shoulder as he was mounting his chariot, and the darkness of

      death enshrouded him as he fell heavily from the car.



      The squires of Idomeneus spoiled him of his armour, while

      Menelaus, son of Atreus, killed Scamandrius the son of Strophius,

      a mighty huntsman and keen lover of the chase. Diana herself had

      taught him how to kill every kind of wild creature that is bred

      in mountain forests, but neither she nor his famed skill in

      archery could now save him, for the spear of Menelaus struck him

      in the back as he was flying; it struck him between the shoulders

      and went right through his chest, so that he fell headlong and

      his armour rang rattling round him.



      Meriones then killed Phereclus the son of Tecton, who was the son

      of Hermon, a man whose hand was skilled in all manner of cunning

      workmanship, for Pallas Minerva had dearly loved him. He it was

      that made the ships for Alexandrus, which were the beginning of

      all mischief, and brought evil alike both on the Trojans and on

      Alexandrus himself; for he heeded not the decrees of heaven.

      Meriones overtook him as he was flying, and struck him on the

      right buttock. The point of the spear went through the bone into

      the bladder, and death came upon him as he cried aloud and fell

      forward on his knees.



      Meges, moreover, slew Pedaeus, son of Antenor, who, though he was

      a bastard, had been brought up by Theano as one of her own

      children, for the love she bore her husband. The son of Phyleus

      got close up to him and drove a spear into the nape of his neck:

      it went under his tongue all among his teeth, so he bit the cold

      bronze, and fell dead in the dust.



      And Eurypylus, son of Euaemon, killed Hypsenor, the son of noble

      Dolopion, who had been made priest of the river Scamander, and

      was honoured among the people as though he were a god. Eurypylus

      gave him chase as he was flying before him, smote him with his

      sword upon the arm, and lopped his strong hand from off it. The

      bloody hand fell to the ground, and the shades of death, with

      fate that no man can withstand, came over his eyes.



      Thus furiously did the battle rage between them. As for the son

      of Tydeus, you could not say whether he was more among the

      Achaeans or the Trojans. He rushed across the plain like a winter

      torrent that has burst its barrier in full flood; no dykes, no

      walls of fruitful vineyards can embank it when it is swollen with

      rain from heaven, but in a moment it comes tearing onward, and

      lays many a field waste that many a strong man’s hand has

      reclaimed—even so were the dense phalanxes of the Trojans driven

      in rout by the son of Tydeus, and many though they were, they

      dared not abide his onslaught.



      Now when the son of Lycaon saw him scouring the plain and driving

      the Trojans pell-mell before him, he aimed an arrow and hit the

      front part of his cuirass near the shoulder: the arrow went right

      through the metal and pierced the flesh, so that the cuirass was

      covered with blood. On this the son of Lycaon shouted in triumph,

      “Knights Trojans, come on; the bravest of the Achaeans is

      wounded, and he will not hold out much longer if King Apollo was

      indeed with me when I sped from Lycia hither.”



      Thus did he vaunt; but his arrow had not killed Diomed, who

      withdrew and made for the chariot and horses of Sthenelus, the

      son of Capaneus. “Dear son of Capaneus,” said he, “come down from

      your chariot, and draw the arrow out of my shoulder.”



      Sthenelus sprang from his chariot, and drew the arrow from the

      wound, whereon the blood came spouting out through the hole that

      had been made in his shirt. Then Diomed prayed, saying, “Hear me,

      daughter of aegis-bearing Jove, unweariable, if ever you loved my

      father well and stood by him in the thick of a fight, do the like

      now by me; grant me to come within a spear’s throw of that man

      and kill him. He has been too quick for me and has wounded me;

      and now he is boasting that I shall not see the light of the sun

      much longer.”



      Thus he prayed, and Pallas Minerva heard him; she made his limbs

      supple and quickened his hands and his feet. Then she went up

      close to him and said, “Fear not, Diomed, to do battle with the

      Trojans, for I have set in your heart the spirit of your knightly

      father Tydeus. Moreover, I have withdrawn the veil from your

      eyes, that you know gods and men apart. If, then, any other god

      comes here and offers you battle, do not fight him; but should

      Jove’s daughter Venus come, strike her with your spear and wound

      her.”



      When she had said this Minerva went away, and the son of Tydeus

      again took his place among the foremost fighters, three times

      more fierce even than he had been before. He was like a lion that

      some mountain shepherd has wounded, but not killed, as he is

      springing over the wall of a sheep-yard to attack the sheep. The

      shepherd has roused the brute to fury but cannot defend his

      flock, so he takes shelter under cover of the buildings, while

      the sheep, panic-stricken on being deserted, are smothered in

      heaps one on top of the other, and the angry lion leaps out over

      the sheep-yard wall. Even thus did Diomed go furiously about

      among the Trojans.



      He killed Astynous, and Hypeiron shepherd of his people, the one

      with a thrust of his spear, which struck him above the nipple,

      the other with a sword-cut on the collar-bone, that severed his

      shoulder from his neck and back. He let both of them lie, and

      went in pursuit of Abas and Polyidus, sons of the old reader of

      dreams Eurydamas: they never came back for him to read them any

      more dreams, for mighty Diomed made an end of them. He then gave

      chase to Xanthus and Thoon, the two sons of Phaenops, both of

      them very dear to him, for he was now worn out with age, and

      begat no more sons to inherit his possessions. But Diomed took

      both their lives and left their father sorrowing bitterly, for he

      nevermore saw them come home from battle alive, and his kinsmen

      divided his wealth among themselves.



      Then he came upon two sons of Priam, Echemmon and Chromius, as

      they were both in one chariot. He sprang upon them as a lion

      fastens on the neck of some cow or heifer when the herd is

      feeding in a coppice. For all their vain struggles he flung them

      both from their chariot and stripped the armour from their

      bodies. Then he gave their horses to his comrades to take them

      back to the ships.



      When Aeneas saw him thus making havoc among the ranks, he went

      through the fight amid the rain of spears to see if he could find

      Pandarus. When he had found the brave son of Lycaon he said,

      “Pandarus, where is now your bow, your winged arrows, and your

      renown as an archer, in respect of which no man here can rival

      you nor is there any in Lycia that can beat you? Lift then your

      hands to Jove and send an arrow at this fellow who is going so

      masterfully about, and has done such deadly work among the

      Trojans. He has killed many a brave man—unless indeed he is some

      god who is angry with the Trojans about their sacrifices, and

      has set his hand against them in his displeasure.”



      And the son of Lycaon answered, “Aeneas, I take him for none

      other than the son of Tydeus. I know him by his shield, the visor

      of his helmet, and by his horses. It is possible that he may be a

      god, but if he is the man I say he is, he is not making all this

      havoc without heaven’s help, but has some god by his side who is

      shrouded in a cloud of darkness, and who turned my arrow aside

      when it had hit him. I have taken aim at him already and hit him

      on the right shoulder; my arrow went through the breast-piece of

      his cuirass; and I made sure I should send him hurrying to the

      world below, but it seems that I have not killed him. There must

      be a god who is angry with me. Moreover I have neither horse nor

      chariot. In my father’s stables there are eleven excellent

      chariots, fresh from the builder, quite new, with cloths spread

      over them; and by each of them there stand a pair of horses,

      champing barley and rye; my old father Lycaon urged me again and

      again when I was at home and on the point of starting, to take

      chariots and horses with me that I might lead the Trojans in

      battle, but I would not listen to him; it would have been much

      better if I had done so, but I was thinking about the horses,

      which had been used to eat their fill, and I was afraid that in

      such a great gathering of men they might be ill-fed, so I left

      them at home and came on foot to Ilius armed only with my bow and

      arrows. These it seems, are of no use, for I have already hit two

      chieftains, the sons of Atreus and of Tydeus, and though I drew

      blood surely enough, I have only made them still more furious. I

      did ill to take my bow down from its peg on the day I led my band

      of Trojans to Ilius in Hector’s service, and if ever I get home

      again to set eyes on my native place, my wife, and the greatness

      of my house, may some one cut my head off then and there if I do

      not break the bow and set it on a hot fire—such pranks as it

      plays me.”



      Aeneas answered, “Say no more. Things will not mend till we two

      go against this man with chariot and horses and bring him to a

      trial of arms. Mount my chariot, and note how cleverly the horses

      of Tros can speed hither and thither over the plain in pursuit or

      flight. If Jove again vouchsafes glory to the son of Tydeus they

      will carry us safely back to the city. Take hold, then, of the

      whip and reins while I stand upon the car to fight, or else do

      you wait this man’s onset while I look after the horses.”



      “Aeneas,” replied the son of Lycaon, “take the reins and drive;

      if we have to fly before the son of Tydeus the horses will go

      better for their own driver. If they miss the sound of your voice

      when they expect it they may be frightened, and refuse to take us

      out of the fight. The son of Tydeus will then kill both of us and

      take the horses. Therefore drive them yourself and I will be

      ready for him with my spear.”



      They then mounted the chariot and drove full speed towards the

      son of Tydeus. Sthenelus, son of Capaneus, saw them coming and

      said to Diomed, “Diomed, son of Tydeus, man after my own heart, I

      see two heroes speeding towards you, both of them men of might

      the one a skilful archer, Pandarus son of Lycaon, the other,

      Aeneas, whose sire is Anchises, while his mother is Venus. Mount

      the chariot and let us retreat. Do not, I pray you, press so

      furiously forward, or you may get killed.”



      Diomed looked angrily at him and answered: “Talk not of flight,

      for I shall not listen to you: I am of a race that knows neither

      flight nor fear, and my limbs are as yet unwearied. I am in no

      mind to mount, but will go against them even as I am; Pallas

      Minerva bids me be afraid of no man, and even though one of them

      escape, their steeds shall not take both back again. I say

      further, and lay my saying to your heart—if Minerva sees fit to

      vouchsafe me the glory of killing both, stay your horses here and

      make the reins fast to the rim of the chariot; then be sure you

      spring Aeneas’ horses and drive them from the Trojan to the

      Achaean ranks. They are of the stock that great Jove gave to Tros

      in payment for his son Ganymede, and are the finest that live and

      move under the sun. King Anchises stole the blood by putting his

      mares to them without Laomedon’s knowledge, and they bore him six

      foals. Four are still in his stables, but he gave the other two

      to Aeneas. We shall win great glory if we can take them.”



      Thus did they converse, but the other two had now driven close up

      to them, and the son of Lycaon spoke first. “Great and mighty

      son,” said he, “of noble Tydeus, my arrow failed to lay you low,

      so I will now try with my spear.”



      He poised his spear as he spoke and hurled it from him. It struck

      the shield of the son of Tydeus; the bronze point pierced it and

      passed on till it reached the breastplate. Thereon the son of

      Lycaon shouted out and said, “You are hit clean through the

      belly; you will not stand out for long, and the glory of the

      fight is mine.”



      But Diomed all undismayed made answer, “You have missed, not hit,

      and before you two see the end of this matter one or other of you

      shall glut tough-shielded Mars with his blood.”



      With this he hurled his spear, and Minerva guided it on to

      Pandarus’s nose near the eye. It went crashing in among his white

      teeth; the bronze point cut through the root of his tongue,

      coming out under his chin, and his glistening armour rang

      rattling round him as he fell heavily to the ground. The horses

      started aside for fear, and he was reft of life and strength.



      Aeneas sprang from his chariot armed with shield and spear,

      fearing lest the Achaeans should carry off the body. He bestrode

      it as a lion in the pride of strength, with shield and spear

      before him and a cry of battle on his lips resolute to kill the

      first that should dare face him. But the son of Tydeus caught up

      a mighty stone, so huge and great that as men now are it would

      take two to lift it; nevertheless he bore it aloft with ease

      unaided, and with this he struck Aeneas on the groin where the

      hip turns in the joint that is called the “cup-bone.” The stone

      crushed this joint, and broke both the sinews, while its jagged

      edges tore away all the flesh. The hero fell on his knees, and

      propped himself with his hand resting on the ground till the

      darkness of night fell upon his eyes. And now Aeneas, king of

      men, would have perished then and there, had not his mother,

      Jove’s daughter Venus, who had conceived him by Anchises when he

      was herding cattle, been quick to mark, and thrown her two white

      arms about the body of her dear son. She protected him by

      covering him with a fold of her own fair garment, lest some

      Danaan should drive a spear into his breast and kill him.



      Thus, then, did she bear her dear son out of the fight. But the

      son of Capaneus was not unmindful of the orders that Diomed had

      given him. He made his own horses fast, away from the

      hurly-burly, by binding the reins to the rim of the chariot. Then

      he sprang upon Aeneas’s horses and drove them from the Trojan to

      the Achaean ranks. When he had so done he gave them over to his

      chosen comrade Deipylus, whom he valued above all others as the

      one who was most like-minded with himself, to take them on to the

      ships. He then remounted his own chariot, seized the reins, and

      drove with all speed in search of the son of Tydeus.



      Now the son of Tydeus was in pursuit of the Cyprian goddess,

      spear in hand, for he knew her to be feeble and not one of those

      goddesses that can lord it among men in battle like Minerva or

      Enyo the waster of cities, and when at last after a long chase he

      caught her up, he flew at her and thrust his spear into the flesh

      of her delicate hand. The point tore through the ambrosial robe

      which the Graces had woven for her, and pierced the skin between

      her wrist and the palm of her hand, so that the immortal blood,

      or ichor, that flows in the veins of the blessed gods, came

      pouring from the wound; for the gods do not eat bread nor drink

      wine, hence they have no blood such as ours, and are immortal.

      Venus screamed aloud, and let her son fall, but Phoebus Apollo

      caught him in his arms, and hid him in a cloud of darkness, lest

      some Danaan should drive a spear into his breast and kill him;

      and Diomed shouted out as he left her, “Daughter of Jove, leave

      war and battle alone, can you not be contented with beguiling

      silly women? If you meddle with fighting you will get what will

      make you shudder at the very name of war.”



      The goddess went dazed and discomfited away, and Iris, fleet as

      the wind, drew her from the throng, in pain and with her fair

      skin all besmirched. She found fierce Mars waiting on the left of

      the battle, with his spear and his two fleet steeds resting on a

      cloud; whereon she fell on her knees before her brother and

      implored him to let her have his horses. “Dear brother,” she

      cried, “save me, and give me your horses to take me to Olympus

      where the gods dwell. I am badly wounded by a mortal, the son of

      Tydeus, who would now fight even with father Jove.”



      Thus she spoke, and Mars gave her his gold-bedizened steeds. She

      mounted the chariot sick and sorry at heart, while Iris sat

      beside her and took the reins in her hand. She lashed her horses

      on and they flew forward nothing loth, till in a trice they were

      at high Olympus, where the gods have their dwelling. There she

      stayed them, unloosed them from the chariot, and gave them their

      ambrosial forage; but Venus flung herself on to the lap of her

      mother Dione, who threw her arms about her and caressed her,

      saying, “Which of the heavenly beings has been treating you in

      this way, as though you had been doing something wrong in the

      face of day?”



      And laughter-loving Venus answered, “Proud Diomed, the son of

      Tydeus, wounded me because I was bearing my dear son Aeneas, whom

      I love best of all mankind, out of the fight. The war is no

      longer one between Trojans and Achaeans, for the Danaans have now

      taken to fighting with the immortals.”



      “Bear it, my child,” replied Dione, “and make the best of it. We

      dwellers in Olympus have to put up with much at the hands of men,

      and we lay much suffering on one another. Mars had to suffer when

      Otus and Ephialtes, children of Aloeus, bound him in cruel bonds,

      so that he lay thirteen months imprisoned in a vessel of bronze.

      Mars would have then perished had not fair Eeriboea, stepmother

      to the sons of Aloeus, told Mercury, who stole him away when he

      was already well-nigh worn out by the severity of his bondage.

      Juno, again, suffered when the mighty son of Amphitryon wounded

      her on the right breast with a three-barbed arrow, and nothing

      could assuage her pain. So, also, did huge Hades, when this same

      man, the son of aegis-bearing Jove, hit him with an arrow even at

      the gates of hell, and hurt him badly. Thereon Hades went to the

      house of Jove on great Olympus, angry and full of pain; and the

      arrow in his brawny shoulder caused him great anguish till Paeeon

      healed him by spreading soothing herbs on the wound, for Hades

      was not of mortal mould. Daring, headstrong, evildoer who recked

      not of his sin in shooting the gods that dwell in Olympus. And

      now Minerva has egged this son of Tydeus on against yourself,

      fool that he is for not reflecting that no man who fights with

      gods will live long or hear his children prattling about his

      knees when he returns from battle. Let, then, the son of Tydeus

      see that he does not have to fight with one who is stronger than

      you are. Then shall his brave wife Aegialeia, daughter of

      Adrestus, rouse her whole house from sleep, wailing for the loss

      of her wedded lord, Diomed the bravest of the Achaeans.”



      So saying, she wiped the ichor from the wrist of her daughter

      with both hands, whereon the pain left her, and her hand was

      healed. But Minerva and Juno, who were looking on, began to taunt

      Jove with their mocking talk, and Minerva was first to speak.

      “Father Jove,” said she, “do not be angry with me, but I think

      the Cyprian must have been persuading some one of the Achaean

      women to go with the Trojans of whom she is so very fond, and

      while caressing one or other of them she must have torn her

      delicate hand with the gold pin of the woman’s brooch.”



      The sire of gods and men smiled, and called golden Venus to his

      side. “My child,” said he, “it has not been given you to be a

      warrior. Attend, henceforth, to your own delightful matrimonial

      duties, and leave all this fighting to Mars and to Minerva.”



      Thus did they converse. But Diomed sprang upon Aeneas, though he

      knew him to be in the very arms of Apollo. Not one whit did he

      fear the mighty god, so set was he on killing Aeneas and

      stripping him of his armour. Thrice did he spring forward with

      might and main to slay him, and thrice did Apollo beat back his

      gleaming shield. When he was coming on for the fourth time, as

      though he were a god, Apollo shouted to him with an awful voice

      and said, “Take heed, son of Tydeus, and draw off; think not to

      match yourself against gods, for men that walk the earth cannot

      hold their own with the immortals.”



      The son of Tydeus then gave way for a little space, to avoid the

      anger of the god, while Apollo took Aeneas out of the crowd and

      set him in sacred Pergamus, where his temple stood. There, within

      the mighty sanctuary, Latona and Diana healed him and made him

      glorious to behold, while Apollo of the silver bow fashioned a

      wraith in the likeness of Aeneas, and armed as he was. Round this

      the Trojans and Achaeans hacked at the bucklers about one

      another’s breasts, hewing each other’s round shields and light

      hide-covered targets. Then Phoebus Apollo said to Mars, “Mars,

      Mars, bane of men, blood-stained stormer of cities, can you not

      go to this man, the son of Tydeus, who would now fight even with

      father Jove, and draw him out of the battle? He first went up to

      the Cyprian and wounded her in the hand near her wrist, and

      afterwards sprang upon me too, as though he were a god.”



      He then took his seat on the top of Pergamus, while murderous

      Mars went about among the ranks of the Trojans, cheering them on,

      in the likeness of fleet Acamas chief of the Thracians. “Sons of

      Priam,” said he, “how long will you let your people be thus

      slaughtered by the Achaeans? Would you wait till they are at the

      walls of Troy? Aeneas the son of Anchises has fallen, he whom we

      held in as high honour as Hector himself. Help me, then, to

      rescue our brave comrade from the stress of the fight.”



      With these words he put heart and soul into them all. Then

      Sarpedon rebuked Hector very sternly. “Hector,” said he, “where

      is your prowess now? You used to say that though you had neither

      people nor allies you could hold the town alone with your

      brothers and brothers-in-law. I see not one of them here; they

      cower as hounds before a lion; it is we, your allies, who bear

      the brunt of the battle. I have come from afar, even from Lycia

      and the banks of the river Xanthus, where I have left my wife, my

      infant son, and much wealth to tempt whoever is needy;

      nevertheless, I head my Lycian soldiers and stand my ground

      against any who would fight me though I have nothing here for the

      Achaeans to plunder, while you look on, without even bidding your

      men stand firm in defence of their wives. See that you fall not

      into the hands of your foes as men caught in the meshes of a net,

      and they sack your fair city forthwith. Keep this before your

      mind night and day, and beseech the captains of your allies to

      hold on without flinching, and thus put away their reproaches

      from you.”



      So spoke Sarpedon, and Hector smarted under his words. He sprang

      from his chariot clad in his suit of armour, and went about among

      the host brandishing his two spears, exhorting the men to fight

      and raising the terrible cry of battle. Then they rallied and

      again faced the Achaeans, but the Argives stood compact and firm,

      and were not driven back. As the breezes sport with the chaff

      upon some goodly threshing-floor, when men are winnowing—while

      yellow Ceres blows with the wind to sift the chaff from the

      grain, and the chaff-heaps grow whiter and whiter—even so did the

      Achaeans whiten in the dust which the horses’ hoofs raised to the

      firmament of heaven, as their drivers turned them back to battle,

      and they bore down with might upon the foe. Fierce Mars, to help

      the Trojans, covered them in a veil of darkness, and went about

      everywhere among them, inasmuch as Phoebus Apollo had told him

      that when he saw Pallas Minerva leave the fray he was to put

      courage into the hearts of the Trojans—for it was she who was

      helping the Danaans. Then Apollo sent Aeneas forth from his rich

      sanctuary, and filled his heart with valour, whereon he took his

      place among his comrades, who were overjoyed at seeing him alive,

      sound, and of a good courage; but they could not ask him how it

      had all happened, for they were too busy with the turmoil raised

      by Mars and by Strife, who raged insatiably in their midst.



      The two Ajaxes, Ulysses and Diomed, cheered the Danaans on,

      fearless of the fury and onset of the Trojans. They stood as

      still as clouds which the son of Saturn has spread upon the

      mountain tops when there is no air and fierce Boreas sleeps with

      the other boisterous winds whose shrill blasts scatter the clouds

      in all directions—even so did the Danaans stand firm and

      unflinching against the Trojans. The son of Atreus went about

      among them and exhorted them. “My friends,” said he, “quit

      yourselves like brave men, and shun dishonour in one another’s

      eyes amid the stress of battle. They that shun dishonour more

      often live than get killed, but they that fly save neither life

      nor name.”



      As he spoke he hurled his spear and hit one of those who were in

      the front rank, the comrade of Aeneas, Deicoon son of Pergasus,

      whom the Trojans held in no less honour than the sons of Priam,

      for he was ever quick to place himself among the foremost. The

      spear of King Agamemnon struck his shield and went right through

      it, for the shield stayed it not. It drove through his belt into

      the lower part of his belly, and his armour rang rattling round

      him as he fell heavily to the ground.



      Then Aeneas killed two champions of the Danaans, Crethon and

      Orsilochus. Their father was a rich man who lived in the strong

      city of Phere and was descended from the river Alpheus, whose

      broad stream flows through the land of the Pylians. The river

      begat Orsilochus, who ruled over much people and was father to

      Diocles, who in his turn begat twin sons, Crethon and Orsilochus,

      well skilled in all the arts of war. These, when they grew up,

      went to Ilius with the Argive fleet in the cause of Menelaus and

      Agamemnon sons of Atreus, and there they both of them fell. As

      two lions whom their dam has reared in the depths of some

      mountain forest to plunder homesteads and carry off sheep and

      cattle till they get killed by the hand of man, so were these two

      vanquished by Aeneas, and fell like high pine-trees to the

      ground.



      Brave Menelaus pitied them in their fall, and made his way to the

      front, clad in gleaming bronze and brandishing his spear, for

      Mars egged him on to do so with intent that he should be killed

      by Aeneas; but Antilochus the son of Nestor saw him and sprang

      forward, fearing that the king might come to harm and thus bring

      all their labour to nothing; when, therefore Aeneas and Menelaus

      were setting their hands and spears against one another eager to

      do battle, Antilochus placed himself by the side of Menelaus.

      Aeneas, bold though he was, drew back on seeing the two heroes

      side by side in front of him, so they drew the bodies of Crethon

      and Orsilochus to the ranks of the Achaeans and committed the two

      poor fellows into the hands of their comrades. They then turned

      back and fought in the front ranks.



      They killed Pylaemenes peer of Mars, leader of the Paphlagonian

      warriors. Menelaus struck him on the collar-bone as he was

      standing on his chariot, while Antilochus hit his charioteer and

      squire Mydon, the son of Atymnius, who was turning his horses in

      flight. He hit him with a stone upon the elbow, and the reins,

      enriched with white ivory, fell from his hands into the dust.

      Antilochus rushed towards him and struck him on the temples with

      his sword, whereon he fell head first from the chariot to the

      ground. There he stood for a while with his head and shoulders

      buried deep in the dust—for he had fallen on sandy soil till his

      horses kicked him and laid him flat on the ground, as Antilochus

      lashed them and drove them off to the host of the Achaeans.



      But Hector marked them from across the ranks, and with a loud cry

      rushed towards them, followed by the strong battalions of the

      Trojans. Mars and dread Enyo led them on, she fraught with

      ruthless turmoil of battle, while Mars wielded a monstrous spear,

      and went about, now in front of Hector and now behind him.



      Diomed shook with passion as he saw them. As a man crossing a

      wide plain is dismayed to find himself on the brink of some great

      river rolling swiftly to the sea—he sees its boiling waters and

      starts back in fear—even so did the son of Tydeus give ground.

      Then he said to his men, “My friends, how can we wonder that

      Hector wields the spear so well? Some god is ever by his side to

      protect him, and now Mars is with him in the likeness of mortal

      man. Keep your faces therefore towards the Trojans, but give

      ground backwards, for we dare not fight with gods.”



      As he spoke the Trojans drew close up, and Hector killed two men,

      both in one chariot, Menesthes and Anchialus, heroes well versed

      in war. Ajax son of Telamon pitied them in their fall; he came

      close up and hurled his spear, hitting Amphius the son of

      Selagus, a man of great wealth who lived in Paesus and owned much

      corn-growing land, but his lot had led him to come to the aid of

      Priam and his sons. Ajax struck him in the belt; the spear

      pierced the lower part of his belly, and he fell heavily to the

      ground. Then Ajax ran towards him to strip him of his armour, but

      the Trojans rained spears upon him, many of which fell upon his

      shield. He planted his heel upon the body and drew out his spear,

      but the darts pressed so heavily upon him that he could not strip

      the goodly armour from his shoulders. The Trojan chieftains,

      moreover, many and valiant, came about him with their spears, so

      that he dared not stay; great, brave and valiant though he was,

      they drove him from them and he was beaten back.



      Thus, then, did the battle rage between them. Presently the

      strong hand of fate impelled Tlepolemus, the son of Hercules, a

      man both brave and of great stature, to fight Sarpedon; so the

      two, son and grandson of great Jove, drew near to one another,

      and Tlepolemus spoke first. “Sarpedon,” said he, “councillor of

      the Lycians, why should you come skulking here you who are a man

      of peace? They lie who call you son of aegis-bearing Jove, for

      you are little like those who were of old his children. Far other

      was Hercules, my own brave and lion-hearted father, who came here

      for the horses of Laomedon, and though he had six ships only, and

      few men to follow him, sacked the city of Ilius and made a

      wilderness of her highways. You are a coward, and your people are

      falling from you. For all your strength, and all your coming from

      Lycia, you will be no help to the Trojans but will pass the gates

      of Hades vanquished by my hand.”



      And Sarpedon, captain of the Lycians, answered, “Tlepolemus, your

      father overthrew Ilius by reason of Laomedon’s folly in refusing

      payment to one who had served him well. He would not give your

      father the horses which he had come so far to fetch. As for

      yourself, you shall meet death by my spear. You shall yield glory

      to myself, and your soul to Hades of the noble steeds.”



      Thus spoke Sarpedon, and Tlepolemus upraised his spear. They

      threw at the same moment, and Sarpedon struck his foe in the

      middle of his throat; the spear went right through, and the

      darkness of death fell upon his eyes. Tlepolemus’s spear struck

      Sarpedon on the left thigh with such force that it tore through

      the flesh and grazed the bone, but his father as yet warded off

      destruction from him.



      His comrades bore Sarpedon out of the fight, in great pain by the

      weight of the spear that was dragging from his wound. They were

      in such haste and stress as they bore him that no one thought of

      drawing the spear from his thigh so as to let him walk uprightly.

      Meanwhile the Achaeans carried off the body of Tlepolemus,

      whereon Ulysses was moved to pity, and panted for the fray as he

      beheld them. He doubted whether to pursue the son of Jove, or to

      make slaughter of the Lycian rank and file; it was not decreed,

      however, that he should slay the son of Jove; Minerva, therefore,

      turned him against the main body of the Lycians. He killed

      Coeranus, Alastor, Chromius, Alcandrus, Halius, Noemon, and

      Prytanis, and would have slain yet more, had not great Hector

      marked him, and sped to the front of the fight clad in his suit

      of mail, filling the Danaans with terror. Sarpedon was glad when

      he saw him coming, and besought him, saying, “Son of Priam, let

      me not be here to fall into the hands of the Danaans. Help me,

      and since I may not return home to gladden the hearts of my wife

      and of my infant son, let me die within the walls of your city.”



      Hector made him no answer, but rushed onward to fall at once upon

      the Achaeans and kill many among them. His comrades then bore

      Sarpedon away and laid him beneath Jove’s spreading oak tree.

      Pelagon, his friend and comrade, drew the spear out of his thigh,

      but Sarpedon fainted and a mist came over his eyes. Presently he

      came to himself again, for the breath of the north wind as it

      played upon him gave him new life, and brought him out of the

      deep swoon into which he had fallen.



      Meanwhile the Argives were neither driven towards their ships by

      Mars and Hector, nor yet did they attack them; when they knew

      that Mars was with the Trojans they retreated, but kept their

      faces still turned towards the foe. Who, then, was first and who

      last to be slain by Mars and Hector? They were valiant Teuthras,

      and Orestes the renowned charioteer, Trechus the Aetolian

      warrior, Oenomaus, Helenus the son of Oenops, and Oresbius of the

      gleaming girdle, who was possessed of great wealth, and dwelt by

      the Cephisian lake with the other Boeotians who lived near him,

      owners of a fertile country.



      Now when the goddess Juno saw the Argives thus falling, she said

      to Minerva, “Alas, daughter of aegis-bearing Jove, unweariable,

      the promise we made Menelaus that he should not return till he

      had sacked the city of Ilius will be of no effect if we let Mars

      rage thus furiously. Let us go into the fray at once.”



      Minerva did not gainsay her. Thereon the august goddess, daughter

      of great Saturn, began to harness her gold-bedizened steeds. Hebe

      with all speed fitted on the eight-spoked wheels of bronze that

      were on either side of the iron axle-tree. The felloes of the

      wheels were of gold, imperishable, and over these there was a

      tire of bronze, wondrous to behold. The naves of the wheels were

      silver, turning round the axle upon either side. The car itself

      was made with plaited bands of gold and silver, and it had a

      double top-rail running all round it. From the body of the car

      there went a pole of silver, on to the end of which she bound the

      golden yoke, with the bands of gold that were to go under the

      necks of the horses. Then Juno put her steeds under the yoke,

      eager for battle and the war-cry.



      Meanwhile Minerva flung her richly embroidered vesture, made with

      her own hands, on to her father’s threshold, and donned the shirt

      of Jove, arming herself for battle. She threw her tasselled aegis

      about her shoulders, wreathed round with Rout as with a fringe,

      and on it were Strife, and Strength, and Panic whose blood runs

      cold; moreover there was the head of the dread monster Gorgon,

      grim and awful to behold, portent of aegis-bearing Jove. On her

      head she set her helmet of gold, with four plumes, and coming to

      a peak both in front and behind—decked with the emblems of a

      hundred cities; then she stepped into her flaming chariot and

      grasped the spear, so stout and sturdy and strong, with which she

      quells the ranks of heroes who have displeased her. Juno lashed

      the horses on, and the gates of heaven bellowed as they flew open

      of their own accord—gates over which the Hours preside, in whose

      hands are Heaven and Olympus, either to open the dense cloud that

      hides them, or to close it. Through these the goddesses drove

      their obedient steeds, and found the son of Saturn sitting all

      alone on the topmost ridges of Olympus. There Juno stayed her

      horses, and spoke to Jove the son of Saturn, lord of all. “Father

      Jove,” said she, “are you not angry with Mars for these high

      doings? how great and goodly a host of the Achaeans he has

      destroyed to my great grief, and without either right or reason,

      while the Cyprian and Apollo are enjoying it all at their ease

      and setting this unrighteous madman on to do further mischief. I

      hope, Father Jove, that you will not be angry if I hit Mars hard,

      and chase him out of the battle.”



      And Jove answered, “Set Minerva on to him, for she punishes him

      more often than any one else does.”



      Juno did as he had said. She lashed her horses, and they flew

      forward nothing loth midway betwixt earth and sky. As far as a

      man can see when he looks out upon the sea from some high beacon,

      so far can the loud-neighing horses of the gods spring at a

      single bound. When they reached Troy and the place where its two

      flowing streams Simois and Scamander meet, there Juno stayed them

      and took them from the chariot. She hid them in a thick cloud,

      and Simois made ambrosia spring up for them to eat; the two

      goddesses then went on, flying like turtledoves in their

      eagerness to help the Argives. When they came to the part where

      the bravest and most in number were gathered about mighty Diomed,

      fighting like lions or wild boars of great strength and

      endurance, there Juno stood still and raised a shout like that of

      brazen-voiced Stentor, whose cry was as loud as that of fifty men

      together. “Argives,” she cried; “shame on cowardly creatures,

      brave in semblance only; as long as Achilles was fighting, if his

      spear was so deadly that the Trojans dared not show themselves

      outside the Dardanian gates, but now they sally far from the city

      and fight even at your ships.”



      With these words she put heart and soul into them all, while

      Minerva sprang to the side of the son of Tydeus, whom she found

      near his chariot and horses, cooling the wound that Pandarus had

      given him. For the sweat caused by the hand that bore the weight

      of his shield irritated the hurt: his arm was weary with pain,

      and he was lifting up the strap to wipe away the blood. The

      goddess laid her hand on the yoke of his horses and said, “The

      son of Tydeus is not such another as his father. Tydeus was a

      little man, but he could fight, and rushed madly into the fray

      even when I told him not to do so. When he went all unattended as

      envoy to the city of Thebes among the Cadmeans, I bade him feast

      in their houses and be at peace; but with that high spirit which

      was ever present with him, he challenged the youth of the

      Cadmeans, and at once beat them in all that he attempted, so

      mightily did I help him. I stand by you too to protect you, and I

      bid you be instant in fighting the Trojans; but either you are

      tired out, or you are afraid and out of heart, and in that case I

      say that you are no true son of Tydeus the son of Oeneus.”



      Diomed answered, “I know you, goddess, daughter of aegis-bearing

      Jove, and will hide nothing from you. I am not afraid nor out of

      heart, nor is there any slackness in me. I am only following your

      own instructions; you told me not to fight any of the blessed

      gods; but if Jove’s daughter Venus came into battle I was to

      wound her with my spear. Therefore I am retreating, and bidding

      the other Argives gather in this place, for I know that Mars is

      now lording it in the field.”



      “Diomed, son of Tydeus,” replied Minerva, “man after my own

      heart, fear neither Mars nor any other of the immortals, for I

      will befriend you. Nay, drive straight at Mars, and smite him in

      close combat; fear not this raging madman, villain incarnate,

      first on one side and then on the other. But now he was holding

      talk with Juno and myself, saying he would help the Argives and

      attack the Trojans; nevertheless he is with the Trojans, and has

      forgotten the Argives.”



      With this she caught hold of Sthenelus and lifted him off the

      chariot on to the ground. In a second he was on the ground,

      whereupon the goddess mounted the car and placed herself by the

      side of Diomed. The oaken axle groaned aloud under the burden of

      the awful goddess and the hero; Pallas Minerva took the whip and

      reins, and drove straight at Mars. He was in the act of stripping

      huge Periphas, son of Ochesius and bravest of the Aetolians.

      Bloody Mars was stripping him of his armour, and Minerva donned

      the helmet of Hades, that he might not see her; when, therefore,

      he saw Diomed, he made straight for him and let Periphas lie

      where he had fallen. As soon as they were at close quarters he

      let fly with his bronze spear over the reins and yoke, thinking

      to take Diomed’s life, but Minerva caught the spear in her hand

      and made it fly harmlessly over the chariot. Diomed then threw,

      and Pallas Minerva drove the spear into the pit of Mars’s stomach

      where his under-girdle went round him. There Diomed wounded him,

      tearing his fair flesh and then drawing his spear out again. Mars

      roared as loudly as nine or ten thousand men in the thick of a

      fight, and the Achaeans and Trojans were struck with panic, so

      terrible was the cry he raised.



      As a dark cloud in the sky when it comes on to blow after heat,

      even so did Diomed son of Tydeus see Mars ascend into the broad

      heavens. With all speed he reached high Olympus, home of the

      gods, and in great pain sat down beside Jove the son of Saturn.

      He showed Jove the immortal blood that was flowing from his

      wound, and spoke piteously, saying, “Father Jove, are you not

      angered by such doings? We gods are continually suffering in the

      most cruel manner at one another’s hands while helping mortals;

      and we all owe you a grudge for having begotten that mad

      termagant of a daughter, who is always committing outrage of some

      kind. We other gods must all do as you bid us, but her you

      neither scold nor punish; you encourage her because the pestilent

      creature is your daughter. See how she has been inciting proud

      Diomed to vent his rage on the immortal gods. First he went up to

      the Cyprian and wounded her in the hand near her wrist, and then

      he sprang upon me too as though he were a god. Had I not run for

      it I must either have lain there for long enough in torments

      among the ghastly corpses, or have been eaten alive with spears

      till I had no more strength left in me.”



      Jove looked angrily at him and said, “Do not come whining here,

      Sir Facing-both-ways. I hate you worst of all the gods in

      Olympus, for you are ever fighting and making mischief. You have

      the intolerable and stubborn spirit of your mother Juno: it is

      all I can do to manage her, and it is her doing that you are now

      in this plight: still, I cannot let you remain longer in such

      great pain; you are my own offspring, and it was by me that your

      mother conceived you; if, however, you had been the son of any

      other god, you are so destructive that by this time you should

      have been lying lower than the Titans.”



      He then bade Paeeon heal him, whereon Paeeon spread pain-killing

      herbs upon his wound and cured him, for he was not of mortal

      mould. As the juice of the fig-tree curdles milk, and thickens it

      in a moment though it is liquid, even so instantly did Paeeon

      cure fierce Mars. Then Hebe washed him, and clothed him in goodly

      raiment, and he took his seat by his father Jove all glorious to

      behold.



      But Juno of Argos and Minerva of Alalcomene, now that they had

      put a stop to the murderous doings of Mars, went back again to

      the house of Jove.