by Homer
But much-enduring Odysseus cut him short:
"Not too long on the praise--don't fault me either.
You're talking to Argive men who know my record.
Let's move out. The night is well on its way
and daybreak's near. The stars go wheeling by,
the full of the dark is gone--two watches down
but the third's still ours for action."
On that note
both men harnessed up in the grim gear of war ...
Thrasymedes staunch in combat handed Tydeus' son
a two-edged sword--he'd left his own at the ship--
a shield too, and over his head he set a helmet,
bull's-hide, bare of ridge and crest, a skullcap,
so it's called, and made to protect the heads
of tough young-blooded fighters.
Meriones gave Odysseus bow, quiver and sword
and over his head he set a helmet made of leather.
Inside it was crisscrossed taut with many thongs,
outside the gleaming teeth of a white-tusked boar
ran round and round in rows stitched neat and tight--
a master craftsman's work, the cap in its center
padded soft with felt. The Wolf Himself Autolycus
lifted that splendid headgear out of Eleon once,
he stole it from Ormenus' son Amyntor years ago,
breaching his sturdy palace walls one night
then passed it on to Amphidamas, Cythera-born,
Scandia-bound. Amphidamas gave it to Molus,
a guest-gift once that Molus gave Meriones
his son to wear in battle. And now it encased
Odysseus' head, snug around his brows.
And so,
both harnessed up in the grim gear of war,
the two men moved out, leaving behind them
all the captains clustered on the spot.
Athena winged a heron close to their path
and veering right. Neither man could see it,
scanning the dark night, they only heard its cry.
Glad for the lucky sign, Odysseus prayed to Pallas,
"Hear me, daughter of Zeus whose shield is thunder!
Standing by me always, in every combat mission
no maneuver of mine slips by you--now, again,
give me your best support, Athena, comrade!
Grant our return in glory back to the warships
once we've done some feat that brings the Trojans pain!"
Next Diomedes lord of the war cry prayed aloud,
"Hear me too, daughter of Zeus, tireless goddess!
Be with me now, just as you went with father,
veteran Tydeus, into Thebes that day
he ran ahead of the Argives with his message.
He left his armored men along the Asopus banks
and carried a peaceful word to Theban cohorts
crowded in their halls. But turning back he bent
to some grand and grisly work with you, Goddess,
and you stood by him then, a steadfast ally.
So come, stand by me now, protect me now!
I will make you a sacrifice, a yearling heifer
broad in the brow, unbroken, never yoked by men.
I'll offer it up to you-I'll sheathe its horns in gold!"
Their prayers rose and Pallas Athena heard them.
Once they'd appealed to Zeus's mighty daughter,
into the black night they went like two lions
stalking through the carnage and the corpses,
through piles of armor and black pools of blood.
But no sleep for the headstrong Trojans either.
Hector would not permit it. He summoned all his chiefs
to a council of war, all Trojan lords and captains.
Mustering them he launched his own crafty plan:
"Who will undertake a mission and bring it off
for a princely gift? A prize to match the exploit!
I'll give him a chariot, two horses with strong necks,
the best of the breeds beside Achaea's fast ships.
Whoever will dare--what glory he can win--
a night patrol by the ships to learn at once
if the fleet's still guarded as before or now,
battered down at our hands, huddling together,
they plan a quick escape, their morale too low
to mount the watch tonight-bone-weary from battle."
So Hector proposed. All ranks held their peace.
But there was a man among the troops, one Dolon,
a son of the sacred Trojan herald Eumedes.
He was rich in bronze, rich in bars of gold,
no feast for the eyes but lightning on his feet
and an only son in the midst of five sisters.
This one volunteered among the Trojans:
"Hector, the mission stirs my fighting blood--
I'll reconnoiter the ships and gather all I can.
Come, raise that scepter and swear you'll give me
the battle-team and the burnished brazen car
that carry great Achilles--I will be your spy.
And no mean scout, I'll never let you down.
I'll infiltrate their entire army, I will,
all the way till I reach the ship of Agamemnon!
That's where the captains must be mapping tactics now,
whether they'll break and run or stand and fight."
How he bragged and Hector, grasping his scepter,
swore a binding oath: "Now Zeus my witness,
thundering lord of Hera--no other Trojan fighter
will ride behind that team, none but you, I swear--
they will be your glory all your life to come!"
So Hector vowed--with an oath he swore in vain
but it spurred the man to action. Dolon leapt to it,
he quickly slung a reflex bow on his back,
over it threw the pelt of a gray wolf
and set on his head a cap of weasel skin
and taking a sharp spear, moved out from camp,
heading toward the fleet--but he was never to come back
from the enemy's beaked ships, bringing Hector news.
Putting the mass of horse and men behind him
Dolon picked up speed, hot for action now,
but keen as a god Odysseus saw him coming
and alerted Diomedes: "Who is this?
A man heading out of the Trojan camp!
Why? I can't be sure--to spy on our ships
or loot the fallen, one of the fighters' corpses?
Let him get past us first, into the clear a bit,
then rush him and overtake him double-quick!
If he outruns us, crowd him against the ships,
cut him off from his lines, harry him with your spear
and never stop--so he can't bolt back to Troy."
No more words. Swerving off the trail
they both lay facedown with the corpses now
as Dolon sped by at a dead run, the fool.
Soon as he got a furlong's lead ahead,
the plowing-range of a good team of mules--
faster than draft oxen dragging a bolted plow
through deep fallow ground--the two raced after
and Dolon, hearing their tread, froze stock-still,
his heart leaping--here were friends, yes,
fellow Trojans coming to turn him back,
yes, Hector had just called off the mission!
But soon as they were a spear-cast off or less
he saw them--enemies--
quick as a flash he sprang,
fleeing for dear life-they sprang in pursuit
as a pair of rip-tooth hounds
bred for the hunt and flushing fawn or hare
through a woody glen keep closing for the kill,
nonstop and the prey goes screaming on ahead--
so Odysseus raider of cities and Dio
medes
cut him off from his own lines, coursing him,
closing nonstop with the Trojan about to break in
on the line of sentries, racing fast for the ships--
when Athena poured fresh strength in Tydeus' son
so no Achaean could beat him out for the glory
of hitting Dolon first, Diomedes come in second.
Rushing him with his spear in a sudden surge
Tydides shouted, "Stop or I'll run you through!
You'll never escape my spear--headtong death--
I swear I'll send it hurling from my fist!"
He flung his shaft, missing the man on purpose--
over his right shoulder the sharp spearpoint winged
and stabbed the earth. Dead in his tracks he stopped,
terrified, stammering, teeth chattering in his mouth,
bled white with fear as the two men overtook him
and panting hard, yanked and pinned his arms.
He burst into tears, pleading, "Take me alive!
I'll ransom myself! Treasures cram our house,
bronze and gold and plenty of well-wrought iron--
father would give you anything, gladly, priceless ransom--
if only he learns I'm still alive in Argive ships!"
Odysseus quick with tactics answered, "Courage.
Death is your last worry. Put your mind at rest.
Come, tell me the truth now, point by point.
Why prowling among the ships, cut off from camp,
alone in the dead of night when other men are sleeping?
To loot the fallen, one of the fighters' corpses?
Or did Hector send you out to spy on our ships,
reconnoiter them stem to stern?
Or did your own itch for glory spur you on?"
Dolon answered, his legs shaking under him,
"Hector--he duped me so--so many mad, blind hopes!
He swore he'd give me the great Achilles' stallions,
purebred racers, his burnished bronze chariot too!
He told me to go through the rushing dark night,
to patrol the enemy lines and learn at once
if the fleet's still guarded as before or now,
battered down at our hands, huddling together,
you plan a quick escape, your morale too low
to mount the watch tonight-bone-weary from battle."
Breaking into a smile the cool tactician laughed,
"By god, what heroic gifts you set your heart on--
the great Achilles' team!
They're hard for mortal men to curb or drive,
for all but Achilles-his mother is immortal.
Now out with it, point by point. Hector--
where did you leave the captain when you came?
Where's his war-gear lying? where's his chariot?
How are the other Trojans posted--guards, sleepers?
What plans are they mapping, what maneuvers next?
Are they bent on holding tight by the ships, exposed?--
or heading home to Troy, now they've trounced our armies?"
And Dolon son of the herald blurted out, "Yes, yes,
I'll tell you everything, down to the last detail!
Hector's holding council with all his chiefs,
mapping plans on old King Ilus' barrow,
clear of the crowds at camp. Guards, my lord?
Nothing. No one's picked to defend the army.
Only our native Trojans hold their posts--
many as those with hearth fires back in Troy--
our men have no choice, shouting out to each other,
'Stay awake! keep watch!' But our far-flung friends,
they're fast asleep, they leave the watch to us--
their wives and children are hardly camped nearby."
But the shrewd tactician kept on pressing: "Be precise.
Where are they sleeping? Mixed in with the Trojans?
Separate quarters? Tell me. I must know it all."
And Dolon son of the herald kept on blurting,
"Everything--anything--whatever will satisfy you!
To seaward, Carians, Paeonian men with bent bows,
Leleges and Cauconians, crack Pelasgians--inland,
toward Thymbra, camp the Lycians, swaggering Mysians,
fighting Phrygian horsemen, Maeonian chariot-drivers
but why interrogate me down to the last platoon?
You really want to raid some enemy units?
There are the Thracians, look, just arrived,
exposed on the flank, apart from all the rest
and right in their midst Eioneus' son, King Rhesus.
His are the best horses I ever saw, the biggest,
whiter than snow, and speed to match the wind!
His chariot's finished off with gold and silver,
the armor he's brought in with him, gold too,
tremendous equipment--what a marvelous sight.
No gear for a mortal man to wear, I'd say,
it's fit for the deathless gods!
There. Now will you take me to your ships
or leave me here--bound and gagged right here?--
till you can make your raid and test my story,
see if I've told the truth or I've been lying."
But rugged Diomedes gave him a grim look:
"Escape? Take my advice and wipe it from your mind,
good as your message is--you're in my hands now.
What if we set you free or you should slip away?
Back you'll slink to our fast ships tomorrow,
playing the spy again or fighting face-to-face.
But if I snuff your life out in my hands,
you'll never annoy our Argive lines again."
With that, just as Dolon reached up for his chin
to cling with a frantic hand and beg for life,
Diomedes struck him square across the neck--
a flashing hack of the sword--both tendons snapped
and the shrieking head went tumbling in the dust.
They tore the weasel-cap from the head, stripped
the wolf pelt, the reflex bow and long tough spear
and swinging the trophies high to Pallas queen of plunder,
exultant royal Odysseus shouted out this prayer:
"Here, Goddess, rejoice in these, they're yours!
You are the first of all the gods we'll call!
Now guide us again, Athena, guide us against
that Thracian camp and horses!"
So Odysseus prayed
and hoisting the spoils over his head, heaved them
onto a tamarisk bush nearby and against it heaped
a good clear landmark, clumping together reeds
and fresh tamarisk boughs they'd never miss
as they ran back through the rushing dark night.
On they stalked through armor and black pools of blood
and suddenly reached their goal, the Thracian outpost.
The troops were sleeping, weary from pitching camp,
their weapons piled'beside them on the ground,
three neat rows of the burnished well-kept arms
and beside each man his pair of battle-horses.
Right in the midst lay Rhesus dead asleep,
his white racers beside him, strapped by thongs
to his chariot's outer rail. Spotting him first
Odysseus quickly pointed him out to Diomedes:
"Look, here's our man, here are his horses.
The ones marked out by the rascal we just killed.
On with it now--show us your strength, full force.
Don't just stand there, useless with your weapons.
Loose those horses--or you go kill the men
and leave the team to me!"
Athena, eyes blazing,
breathed fury in Diomedes and he went whirling
into the slaughter now, hacking left and right
a
nd hideous groans broke from the dying Thracians
slashed by the sword--the ground ran red with blood.
As a lion springs on flocks unguarded, shepherd gone,
pouncing on goats or sheep and claw-mad for the kill,
so Tydeus' son went tearing into that Thracian camp
until he'd butchered twelve. Each man he'd stand above
and chop with the sword, the cool tactician Odysseus
grappled from behind, grabbing the fighter's heels,
dragging him out of the way with one thought in mind:
that team with their flowing manes must get through fast,
not quake at heart and balk, trampling over the dead,
those purebred horses still not used to corpses.
But now the son of Tydeus came upon the king,
the thirteenth man, and ripped away his life,
his sweet life as he lay there breathing hard.
A nightmare hovered above his head that night--
Diomedes himself! sped by Athena's battle-plan-
while staunch Odysseus loosed the stamping horses,
hitched them together tight with their own reins
and drove them through the ruck,
lashing them with his bow: he forgot to snatch
the shining whip that lay in the well-wrought car.
He whistled shrill, his signal to rugged Diomedes
pausing, deep in thought ... what was the worst,
most brazen thing he could do? Seize the car
where the handsome armor lay and pull it out
by the pole or prize it up, bodily, haul it off--
or tear the life from still more Thracian troops?
His mind swarming with all this, Pallas Athena
swept to his side and cautioned Diomedes, "Back--
think only of getting back, great son of Tydeus!
Back to the ships, quick, or you'll run for your life!
Some other god--who knows?--may wake the Trojans."
The goddess' voice--he knew it, mounted at once
as Odysseus whacked the stallions smartly with his bow
and they made a run for Achaea's rapid ships.
But Apollo lord of the silver bow kept watch.
No blind man's watch, no, Apollo saw Athena
take Tydides in hand, and raging against her
plunged into the main mass of Trojan fighters
to rouse a Thracian captain called Hippocoon,
a loyal kinsman of Rhesus. He woke with a jolt
and seeing empty ground where the fast team had stood,
men gasping out their lives, retching in all that carnage,
he wailed out, sobbing, crying his dear companion's name
and piercing wails broke as the Trojans swirled in panic--
a desperate rout of them rushing up to the bloodbath there
stood staring down at the grisly work the marauders did
before they made their dash for the beaked ships.
Reaching the place where they'd killed Hector's spy,
Odysseus dear to Zeus reined in the headlong team
and leaping down to the ground Tydides heaved
the bloody spoils into his comrade's arms.
He mounted again and flogged the horses hard