on which she was embroidering
the battles between Trojans and Achaeans, that Mars had made them fight
for her sake. Iris then came close up to her and said, "Come hither,
child, and see the strange doings of the Trojans and Achaeans. Till now
they have been warring upon the plain, mad with lust of battle, but now
they have left off fighting, and are leaning upon their shields,
sitting still with their spears planted beside them. Alexandrus and
Menelaus are going to fight about yourself, and you are to be the wife
of him who is the victor."

Thus spoke the goddess, and Helen's heart yearned after her former
husband, her city, and her parents. She threw a white mantle over her
head, and hurried from her room, weeping as she went, not alone, but
attended by two of her handmaids, Aethrae, daughter of Pittheus, and
Clymene. And straightway they were at the Scaean gates.

The two sages, Ucalegon and Antenor, elders of the people, were seated
by the Scaean gates, with Priam, Panthous, Thymoetes, Lampus, Clytius,
and Hiketaon of the race of Mars. These were too old to fight, but they
were fluent orators, and sat on the tower like cicales that chirrup
delicately from the boughs of some high tree in a wood. When they saw
Helen coming towards the tower, they said softly to one another, "Small
wonder that Trojans and Achaeans should endure so much and so long, for
the sake of a woman so marvellously and divinely lovely. Still, fair
though she be, let them take her and go, or she will breed sorrow for
us and for our children after us."

But Priam bade her draw nigh. "My child," said he, "take your seat in
front of me that you may see your former husband, your kinsmen and your
friends. I lay no blame upon you, it is the gods, not you who are to
blame. It is they that have brought about this terrible war with the
Achaeans. Tell me, then, who is yonder huge hero so great and goodly? I
have seen men taller by a head, but none so comely and so royal. Surely
he must be a king."

"Sir," answered Helen, "father of my husband, dear and reverend in my
eyes, would that I had chosen death rather than to have come here with
your son, far from my bridal chamber, my friends, my darling daughter,
and all the companions of my girlhood. But it was not to be, and my lot
is one of tears and sorrow. As for your question, the hero of whom you
ask is Agamemnon, son of Atreus, a good king and a brave soldier,
brother-in-law as surely as that he lives,