The other gods and the men who marshal chariots
slept through the night, but sweet sleep evaded
Zeus, for he debated in his mind how to honor
Achilles and slay many beside the Achaean ships.
He soon concluded that the best plan was to send
a terrible dream to Atreus’ son, Agamemnon,
so he called to Dream with his winged words:
“Go quickly, destructive Dream, to the swift ships
of the Achaean, and there you will enter the tent
of Agamemnon and whisper to him this message:
tell him to quickly arm the long-haired Achaeans,
for the time has come to seize Troy’s wide streets.
The gods with homes on Olympus are no longer
divided, for Hera has bent their minds to her will,
and Troy has been fated for sorrow and death.”

So he spoke, and when Dream heard these words
he quickly set off for the Achaean swift ships.
When he reached Agamemnon’s tent, he found
the son of Atreus fast asleep in ambrosial slumber.
He stood over him in the form of Nestor, son
of Neleus, whom Agamemnon honors above all
others. In this guise divine Dream addressed him:
“Why do you sleep, son of Atreus, tamer of horses?
It is unwise to spend all night at rest when leading
an army and making so many difficult decisions.
Now listen, for I bring word from Zeus, who,
while far away, still cares for you and pities you.
You must quickly arm the long-haired Achaeans,
for the time has come to seize Troy’s wide streets.
The gods with homes on Olympus are no longer
divided, for Hera has bent their minds to her will,
and Troy has been fated for sorrow and death
by Zeus’ order. Remember these words; do not let
them escape when you wake from sleep slumber.”

Dream finished and departed, leaving the king
to consider in his heart things that were never
to be. He foolishly wished to attack Priam’s city
on this day, unaware that Zeus already had a plan
to inflict great pain and suffering on both Trojans
and Danaans by bringing them into violent conflict.
He awoke from sleep with the divine voice pooling
in his ears. He sat up straight, donned his soft,
newly-made tunic, covered it with his large cloak,
laced a pair of sandals to his shining feet, and hung
his silver-studded sword over his shoulders. Then he
seized his father’s imperishable scepter and carried
it over to the ships of the bronze-clad Achaeans.

When Dawn rose on high Olympus, declaring
daylight’s arrival to Zeus and the other immortals,
Agamemnon ordered the clear-voiced herald
to summon the long-haired Achaeans to assembly.
The cry went out, and the army quickly gathered.

First, he called for the council of elders to sit
beside the ship of Nestor, the king born in Pylos.
When all had assembled, he revealed his plan:
“Listen, friends. Last night while I slept, a dream
from the gods came to me in a form that looked
like noble Nestor in features and stature and build.
It stood over my head and spoke these words:
‘Why do you sleep, son of Atreus, tamer of horses?
It is unwise to spend all night at rest when leading
an army and making so many difficult decisions.
Now listen, for I bring word from Zeus, who,
while far away, still cares for you and pities you.
You must quickly arm the long-haired Achaeans,
for the time has come to seize Troy’s wide streets.
The gods with homes on Olympus are no longer
divided, for Hera has bent their minds to her will,
and Troy has been fated for sorrow and death
by Zeus’ order. Remember these words.’ When
finished, Dream left, and I awoke from sweet
sleep. So let us go now and arm Achaea’s sons,
but first I will test their mettle, as is tradition,
and order them to take their ships and flee
while the rest of you order them to hold back.”

When he finished, he returned to his seat,
and Nestor, king of sandy Pylos, stood to address
the assembly with the best of intentions, saying:
“Friends, leaders, and rulers of the Argives,
if any other Achaean had told us this dream,
we would call it a lie and turn our backs on it.
But he who claims to be the greatest Achaean
saw it, so let us go and arm the Achaean sons.”

He finished and led the way out of the council.
The scepter-bearing kings obediently followed
their leader, and the soldiers hurried after them.
In the same way that thick swarms of bees burst
out of hollow rocks in ever-renewing waves
and then fly in grape-like bunches over the spring
flowers, some going this way, others going that
way, so too did the troops march in formation
from the ships and huts by the shore of the sea
to the place of assembly. With them was
Rumor, messenger of Zeus, inciting them like
a blazing fire. The assembly was a riot of noise,
the earth groaning under the men as they sat,
and nine heralds trying to halt the men’s cries
so the Zeus-blessed king’s words could be heard.
The men eventually took their seats, and the noise
dropped until all fell silent. Then Agamemnon
stood and held the scepter forged by Hephaestus.
Hephaestus had given it to lord Zeus, Cronos’ son,
who gave it to the swift appearing messenger;
then Hermes gave it to Pelops, driver of chariots,
and Pelops gave it to Atreus, shepherd of men.
When Atreus died, it was given to Thyestes, rich
in flocks, and Thyestes left it for Agamemnon
to carry as he ruled many islands and all of Argos.

He leaned on the scepter and addressed the Argives:
“Friends, heroes of Danaan, comrades of Ares,
great Zeus, son of Cronos, has ensnared me
in folly, for he promised me with a nod of assent
that I would sack great Ilios before going home,
but that was a foul trick, and now I must return
to Argos in shame, having lost many men. Such
are the pleasures of all-powerful Zeus, who has
razed many cities and will destroy many more,
for his strength is greatest of all. Those living
in the days to come will learn of our shame,
how a vast and brave Achaean army fought
a fruitless battle against an outnumbered
enemy in a war with no end in sight. If all
Achaeans and Trojans were willing to swear
oath-offerings and number both sides, and if
all Trojans were counted, and if all Achaeans
were arranged into troops of ten, and if each
troop took a Trojan to pour our wine, then many
companies would be without a cup bearer.
I tell you, this is how far the Achaeans outnumber
the Trojans who live in the city. But they have
spear-wielding allies from many foreign cities
who fight me off, beat me back, and prevent
me from sacking and pillaging crowded Ilios.
Now nine years have passed for mighty Zeus.
The timber on our ships decays, our cables rot,
and our wives and children all sit in the great halls
waiting for our return. Still, the task that brought
us to this place still has not been accomplished.
So this is my commandment for all to obey:
let us sail back home to our beloved fatherlands,
for we shall never capture Troy’s wide streets.”

So he spoke, stirring the souls of those not
privy to the council’s plans. And the assembly
moved like the long waves of the Icarian sea,
kindled by East and South Winds that swoop
down from the clouds of Father Zeus. Just as
the West Wind moves with a blustering rage
over the deep standing corn, flattening the stalks,
so also moved the assembly. As the men raced
to their ships, their trampling feet lifted clouds
of dust high into the air while calls rang out
to fasten the ships and draw them into the sea.
And as slipways were cleared and props removed,
the cries for home reached up to the heavens.

And the Argives would have returned home before
their fated time had Hera not said to Athena:
“Alas, child of aegis-bearing Zeus, tireless one!
Is this the way the Argives plan to flee over
the broad back of the sea to their fatherlands?
Are they leaving Priam and the Trojans to claim
as triumph Argive Helen, for whom so many
Achaeans have perished in Troy, far from home?
Go quickly through the Achaean army and use
your soothing voice to hold back each man
and to stop them from dragging their ships to the sea.”

So saying, gleaming-eyed Athena obeyed,
quickly rushing down from the Olympian peaks
to the nimble Achaean ships. There she found
Odysseus, Zeus’ equal in counsel, standing
at rest. He had not yet fastened his benched
ships for his heart and soul were in pain.
Bright-eyed Athena stood near him and said:
“Son of Laertes, sprung from Zeus, wily Odysseus,
is this how you plan to return to your fatherland,
jumping into your well-benched ships and fleeing?
Are you leaving Priam and the Trojans to claim
as triumph Argive Helen, for whom so many
Achaeans have perished in Troy, far from home?
Go quickly through the Achaean army and use
your soothing voice to hold back each man
and to stop them from dragging their ships to the sea.”

Odysseus recognized Athena’s voice and set off
quickly, discarding his cloak, which was collected
by his attendant, the herald of Ithaca, Eurybates.
Going straight to Agamemnon, son of Atreus,
he took from him his father’s imperishable scepter
and headed for the bronze-clad Achaean ships.

When he came upon a king or distinguished man,
he spoke to him with gentle words of restraint:
“It is wrong to threaten you like a frightened fool,
but sit down and make your men sit as well;
you do not yet know the mind of Atreus’ son.
He tests us now, but soon he will start to punish.
Did we not hear all he said during council?
May his anger not cause harm to Achaea’s sons.
The wrath of kings is great, for their honor comes
from Zeus, and counsellor Zeus cherishes them.”

When he saw a commoner who was shouting,
he struck the man with his staff and exclaimed:
“Sit down, keep still, and listen to the words
of braver men than you, for you are a worthless
coward, useless both in combat and in council.
It is impossible for every Achaean to rule as king;
too many lords is a disaster. Let us have one leader,
one king, to whom the son of Cronos has granted
the scepter and the right to rule his people justly.”

So he expertly brought the army under control
and they hurried noisily back to the place
of assembly like a thundering wave that crashes
onto a vast beach as deep waters rage below.

All sat down in their seats except for Thersites,
the blowhard whose disordered mind was filled
with foul words, whose speech was a rambling,
reckless roar against kings, and whose only goal
was to win a laugh from the Argives. He was
the ugliest of all who came to Ilios: bow-legged,
lame in one foot, shoulders bent, body hunched
over, and a sugar-loaf head sparsely covered
with clumps of thin, wooly hair. He hated Achilles
and Odysseus and often quarreled with them,
but now Agamemnon was the focus of his shrill
shouts; and with him the Achaeans also held
violent anger and resentment in their hearts.
With a great cry, he confronted Agamemnon:
“Son of Atreus, what is wrong? What do you
crave? Your tents are filled with bronze and many
captured women, for we Achaeans grant you
first choice whenever we sack a city. Or do you
desire gold, which some Trojan will bring
out of Ilios to pay the ransom for a son who I
or another Achaean bound and carried away?
Or do you desire a young girl for your bed, one
you can hide away from others? It is a disgrace
for a lord to lead his troops into danger. So, all
you weak, despicable Achaean women, let us
head home in our ships, and leave this man
here so he can enjoy his prized toys in Troy.
Then he will learn if he really does need our help,
for he dishonored Achilles, a greater man than he,
by seizing the man’s prize and taking it away.
Lucky for you Achilles’ heart is not filled with bile;
otherwise, that insult would have been your last.”^[1]

So Thersites spoke his abuse to lord Agamemnon,
but godlike Odysseus quickly pounced on the man,
glaring at him harshly and scolding him, saying:
“You may be a clever speaker, Thersites,
but only a fool quarrels with a king by himself.
I think you are the basest, most pathetic of all
who came with the sons of Atreus to Ilios.
So keep your mouth shut, say no more about
kings, and quit looking for an easy way home.
We do not know how this business will end,
if the Achaean sons will win or lose, live or die.
But here you sit, showering this leader of men,
Agamemnon, with insults and abuse simply
because the Danaans have granted him prizes.
But let me tell you what is going to happen now.
If I discover you acting like a fool one more time,
then may my head be ripped from my shoulders
and let no man call me father of Telemachus
if I do not grab you and strip off your clothes—
cloak, tunic, and all—and leave you naked
and ashamed; then I will beat you and kick you
out of camp until you run crying to the swift ships.”

So saying, he took the golden scepter and beat
Thersites until a swollen, bloody bruise covered
his back and shoulders. Tears poured down
as he doubled over in pain and fell, terrified,
to the ground, trying in vain to dry his tears.
Though troubled by the scene, the Achaeans
still laughed and turned to each other, saying:
“Amazing! Odysseus has performed countless
good deeds, as a counselor and a strategist,
but this is by far his greatest gift to the Argives,
putting this worthless, babbling fool in his place.
To be sure, he and his oversized ego are not likely
to be back to challenge kings with violent words.”

So they said. Then Odysseus, sacker of cities,
stood, scepter in hand, next to bright-eyed Athena
who, in the guise of a herald, ordered the Achaeans,
from those nearby to those far away, to be silent
and to listen to his words and consider his advice.
With noble intent he addressed the assembly:
“Son of Atreus, my king, the Achaeans seem
ready to make you the most despicable man
in the world and to break the promise made
before our journey from Argos, land of horses:
that we not return home until we raze the walls
and sack the city of Ilios. They act like children
or old widows, whining to each other about
going home. True, our troubles would make
anyone wish for home, and anyone away
from his wife for just a month is vexed, especially
when wintry winds and stormy seas hold him
back. But we have been here for nine years
already, and we are still here. I do not blame
any Achaean for being impatient, but to remain
so long and return home empty-handed would
be a shame. So be patient, friends, and wait
until we find out if Calchas’ prophecies are
true or not. We know the truth in our hearts,
for we all witnessed it, those that death has not
taken. It seems like only yesterday when we
gathered at Aulis, preparing to bring death
to Priam and Troy. We were standing around
a spring, preparing to offer a perfect hecatomb
to the gods on a sacred altar near a plane-tree
and a shining stream, when an omen appeared:
a terrifying blood-red serpent, sent to the light
of day by Zeus himself, that quickly darted
away from the altar and towards the plane-tree.
There, on a branch at the top of the tree,
we saw eight baby sparrows hiding in the leaves,
and the mother who gave them life was the ninth.
Then the serpent ate the pitiful creatures, and as
the mother flew around mourning her little ones,
he grabbed her by the wings and ate her as she
cried. But once the creature had eaten the baby
sparrows and their mother, wily counselor
Zeus turned him to stone, and we stood there,
struck dumb by these terrible omens. But Calchas
was quick to divine their meaning, saying to us:
‘Why are long-haired Achaeans so silent? Great
counselor Zeus has given us a glimpse of the future
that will be long in coming but never forgotten.
Just as the serpent devoured the sparrow’s babies,
eight in all, along with the mother, the ninth,
so we shall wage war in Troy for that many years;
then, in the tenth, we will capture the city’s streets.’
And just as Calchas said, now this has come to be.
So come, hold fast, all you well-greaved Achaeans,
for soon enough we will capture the city of Priam.”

So he spoke, and the Achaeans cheered heartily,
the noise echoing all around the ships as they
celebrated the words of godlike Odysseus.
Then Nestor, horseman of Gerenia, spoke:
“Look now, you are all debating like little
children who care nothing for the work of war.
What happened to our compacts and our oaths?
Why not throw in the fire our counsels, plans,
wine-sealed vows, and handshakes sealed with trust?
We have been too long arguing with useless words,
but we are still unable to find any solutions. Son
of Atreus, do not alter course. Hold to your will
and maintain command of the Achaeans
in battle. As for those few who disagree with us—
let them waste away. Their plan will amount
to nothing, and they will leave for Argos before
learning if the vow made by aegis-bearing Zeus
is a lie or not. For I say on the day the Argives
boarded swift ships with weapons of destruction
for Troy, Cronos’ son nodded his head, sending
lightning on our right and showing us favorable
signs. Therefore no one should be eager to return
home until each man has slept with a Trojan’s
wife as payment for our fighting over Helen.
But if anyone desires to return home, then let him
try to take a well-benched black ship so he may
meet his death before the whole army. You, king,
should listen and follow my counsel, for the advice
I offer will be difficult to dismiss: divide the men
into tribes and clans, Agamemnon, so clans aid
other clans and tribes other tribes. Should you do
this and should the Achaeans obey, you will know
which leaders and men are cowardly and which
are brave, for each clan will fight for itself, and you
will know if it is heaven’s will that you not sack
the city or the cowardice and folly of your men.”

When he finished, Agamemnon, lord of men, replied:
“Again, old man, your words outshine all others.
If father Zeus, Athena, and Apollo granted me ten
counselors like Nestor from among the Achaeans,
then we would soon bend Priam’s city to our will,
seize it with our hands, and raze it to the ground.
Instead, aegis-bearing Zeus has given me sorrow,
fruitless feuds, and futile arguments. Now Achilles
and I are exchanging violent words over some
young girl, and I was the first to become angry.
But if we ever united in purpose, then we would
send death to Troy without delay. Now let each
man go to his meal and then prepare for battle.
Sharpen your spear, polish your shield, feed
your swift-footed horses, examine your chariot
on both sides, and get ready for a long, dreadful
day of battle against a fierce foe. But be warned:
no rest will come until darkness falls. Your chest
will be bathed in sweat from the large shield strap,
your hands will grow heavy holding your spear,
and your horse will be foaming as it strains
from the pull of your well-crafted chariot.
But if any man chooses to loiter by the curved
ships, far from the fighting, then his fate is sealed:
he will become a feast for dogs and crows.”

So he spoke, and the Argives roared like a wave
crashing against a cliff when the south wind blows,
a jutting crag shaped by countless surges formed
by untold winds coming from all directions.
They stood and scattered to the ships, built fires
by their tents, and ate their meals. Each man
made a sacrifice to his tribe’s immortal god,
and all prayed for death to pass them over in battle.
But lord Agamemnon offered a fat, five-year-old
bull as sacrifice to the mighty son of Cronos
and summoned all the noble Achaean leaders.
Nestor was the first, followed by Idomeneus,
the two Ajaxes^[2], the son of Tydeus, and finally
Odysseus, Zeus’ equal in counsel. War-crier
Menelaus came on his own accord for he knew
what troubled his brother’s heart. They took up
barley grains and surrounded the bull as lord
Agamemnon stood among them and prayed:
“Great and glorious Zeus, lord of the black clouds,
do not let the sun fall and darkness descend
until I reduce Priam’s palace to a smoldering
ruin, burn his gates to the ground, rip Hector’s
tunic from his body, drive a sword through
his chest, and make his many comrades fall
head-first into the earth and bite the dust.”

But Zeus did not answer his prayer right away;
he accepted the sacrifices but intensified the war.

Once prayers had been said and barley thrown,
they drew back the head, slaughtered and skinned
the bull, cut out the thighs, enclosed them in fat,
and finally placed raw meat upon them. They
burned these over leafless billets, the entrails
skewered on a spit and held over a blazing fire.
When the thighs were burnt, they tasted the entrails.
Then the rest was cut into pieces, put on spits,
roasted carefully, and taken out of the fire.
When the meal was ready, they feasted, and all
were satisfied in equal measure. After every
man’s desire for food and drink was sated,
Nestor, horseman of Gerenia, was first to speak:
“Son of Atreus, Agamemnon, noblest of kings,
the time for talking is over, for the task that Zeus
has put into our hands can be delayed no longer.
So let the heralds summon the bronze-clad
Achaean soldiers to gather by the ships, and let
us go as a group through the wide Achaean camp
so we can quickly rouse the fierce god of war.”

Agamemnon, ruler of men, heeded Nestor’s
advice and ordered the clear-voiced heralds
to summon the long-haired Achaeans to battle;
the men, hearing the call, gathered quickly.
The kings near the Zeus-blessed son of Atreus
marshaled their troops, and golden-eyed Athena
followed them holding the eternal aegis, covered
with a hundred tightly-woven tassels, each one
made of gold and worth a hundred oxen. She
rushed through the Achaean army urging them
forward, and within each man’s heart she placed
the might and vigor for a long and bitter battle.
Soon blood-lust replaced their desire to go back
to the hollowed ships and go home to their families.

Just as a baneful fire burning up a boundless
woods on a mountain peak is visible from afar,
so the shine from the marching sea of bronze soldiers
was so bright it could be seen from the heavens.

And just as flocks of winged birds, geese, cranes,
and long-necked swans fly here and there across
the meadows of Asia beside the river Cayster,
delighting in the power of their wings and uttering
cries as they move from one perch to the next,
so the many tribes streamed from the ships and camps
to the plains of the Scamander as the earth shook
in terror from the trampling feet and hooves.
They stood in the Scamander meadows in numbers
as countless as the leaves and flowers of spring.

And just as many swarms of flittering flies buzz
about the shepherds’ pens in springtime when
the buckets are overflowing with milk, so the hordes
of long-haired Achaeans stood in the plain before
the Trojans, waiting anxiously to destroy them.

And just as goat-herders easily separate scattered
goats when mingled together in the pasture,
so the leaders marshaled their forces into formation
for the coming battle, including lord Agamemnon,
his eyes and head like Zeus who hurls thunderbolts,
his waist like Ares, and his chest like Poseidon.
And just as a bull stands out among a herd of oxen
when all are gathered together, so on this day
did Zeus ensure that the son of Atreus
would shine brighter than all other warriors.

Speak to me now, Muses who dwell on Olympus,
for you goddesses know and see all while we
mortals know nothing and hear only rumors:
who were the lords and the leaders of the Danaans?
For I could not speak their numbers or names,
not even if I possessed ten tongues or ten mouths
or a tireless voice or a heart made of bronze,
unless the Olympian Muses, daughters of Zeus,
send to my mind all those who gathered in Ilios.
Now I will describe the many ships and their leaders.

The Boeotians were led by Peneleos and Leitus,
along with Arcesilaus, Prothoenor, and Clonius.
These men came from Hyria, rocky Aulis,
Schoenus, Scolus, mountainous Eteonus, Thespeia,
Graea, and the wide spaces of Mycalessus;
they dwelt in Harma, Eilesium, Erythrae,
Eleon, Hyle, Peteon, Ocalea, the well-built
citadel at Medeon, Copae, Eutresis, and Thisbe,
refuge for wild doves; they ruled Coroneia
and the grasses of Haliartus; they made
homes in the lands of Plataea, Glisas, the well-
built citadel of lower Thebes, and holy
Onchestus, the splendid grove of Poseidon;
and they lived in Arne of the rich vines, Mideia,
sacred Nisa, and Anthedon by the sea shore.
In all, they set sail with fifty ships, each holding
one hundred and twenty young Boeotians.

Those from Aspledon and Orchomenus
of the Minyan were led by Ascalaphus and Ialmenus,
sons of Ares. The revered maiden Astyoche
bore him in secret for the god of war when she
retreated to her chambers in the palace of Actor,
son of Azeus. With them were thirty hollow ships.

The leaders of the Phocians were Schedius
and Epistrophus, sons of Iphitus, great-hearted
son of Naubolus. They ruled over Cyparissus,
rocky Pytho, divine Crisa, Daulis, and Panopeus;
they called Anemoreia and Hyampolis home
and lived along the heavenly river Cephisus,
where they held Lilaea beside the river’s springs.
They followed in a fleet of forty black ships,
and they were marshaled into column formation
and positioned to the left of the Boeotians.

The Locrians were led by Little Ajax, swift son
of Oïleus, who was smaller than Telamonian Ajax,
wore a tight tunic of linen, and was the greatest
spearman among all Panhellenes and Achaeans.
He led the men from Cynus, Opoeis, Calliarus,
Bessa, Scarphe, the lovely Augeiae, Tarphe,
and Thronium on either side of the Boagrius river.
Little Ajax led forty black ships full of Locrians,
who lived across the straits from holy Euboia.

The fire breathing Abantes occupied Euboia,
Calchis, Eretria, vine-rich Histiaea, Cerinthus
by the sea, and the steep-walled city of Dion;
they also lived in Carystus and held Styra.
Elephenor was their leader, companion of Ares,
son of Chalcodon, and lord of the great-hearted
Abantes. Following him were the swift Abantes,
wearing their hair long in the back and wielding
ashen spears able to shatter enemy breastplates.
In all, Elephenor commanded forty black ships.

Those who dwelt in Athens—the well-built citadel
and home of great-hearted Erechtheus, who
was born of the grain-giving earth but nurtured
by Athena, daughter of Zeus, in her own rich
temple in Athens, where each year young men
sought to win his favor through the sacrifice
of a bull or ram—were led by Menestheus, son
of Peteos, who had no equal in commanding
chariots and shield-bearing warriors. Only
Nestor challenged him in this, being his elder.
The Athenians followed their leader in fifty ships.

Ajax led twelve ships from Salamis, who were
stationed with the Athenian battalions in battle.

And those who held Argos, high-walled Tiryns,
Hermione, Asine that occupies a deep bay,
Troezen, Eionae, vine-rich Epidarus, and the sons
of the Achaeans who held Aegina and Mases
were led by the skilled battle-crier Diomedes
and Sthenelus, prized son of famed Capaneus.
A third came with them: Euryalus, godlike son
of King Mecisteus, who was the son of Talaus.
But the leader was the skilled battle-crier
Diomedes, who led a fleet of eighty black ships.

Those who held the well-built citadel at Mycenae,
wealthy Corinth, and the well-built Cleonae;
and those who lived in Orneae, pleasant Araethyrea
and Sicyon, where Adrastus was first made king;
and those with homes in Hyperesia, Gonoessa
on a steep cliff, and Pellene; and those around
Aegium, Aegialus, and wide Helice were led
by the son of Atreus, Agamemnon, who
commanded one hundred ships and the largest
army with the bravest soldiers and proudly wore
gleaming gold, for he distinguished himself above
all other warriors both in nobility and in leadership.

Those who held hollow, rifted Lacedaemon,
Pharis, Sparta, and Messe, the haunt of doves;
and those from Bryseae and lovely Augeiae;
and those from Amyclae and Helos, citadel
by the sea, Laas, and Oetylus were led by great
war-crier Menelaus, who commanded sixty
ships, arming them apart from the others.
He went among them with great confidence,
urging them to battle, for he was most anxious
to avenge all of Helen’s fighting and groaning

Then came those who inhabited Pylos, fair Arene,
Thryum, the ford of Alpheius, well-built Aepy,
Cyparisseis, Amphigeneia, Pteleos, Helos,
and Dorium, where the Muses met the Thracian
Thamyris and stopped his singing as he traveled
from the house of Eurytus in Oechalia for he
boasted of winning the daughter of Zeus even
if the Muses themselves sang against him.
In their anger, they maimed him, silencing his sweet
voice and preventing him from playing the lyre.
They were led by horseman Nestor of Gerenia,
and with him were ninety ships lined up in rows.

Those holding Arcadia under steep Mount Cyllene,
by the barrow of Aerytus, where warriors fight
hand-to-hand; and those from Pheneos, sheep-rich
Orchomenus, Rhipe, Stratia, and windy Enispe;
and those in Tegea, charming Mantineia,
Stymphalus, and Parrhasia were led by the son
of Ancaeus, King Agapenor, with sixty ships,
each one filled with many Arcadian warriors,
all highly skilled in combat. As they had no
interest in seafaring, Agamemnon, son of Atreus
and king of men, provided them well-benched
ships so they could cross the wine-dark sea.

And those who dwelt in Buprasium and famed
Elis, from the lands of Hyrmine and Myrsinus
by the sea to the rock of Olen and Alesium,
had four leaders. Each leader was followed by ten
ships, and each ship was filled with Epeian fighters.
Two were led by Amphimachus and Thalpius:
one the son of Cteatus, the other of Eurytus;
another was led by Diores, son of Amarynceus;
and the fourth was led by Polyxeinus, son
of King Agasthenes and grandson of Augeias.

Then those from Dulichium and the holy islands
of the Echinae, who dwell across the sea from Elis,
were led into battle by Meges, equal to Ares
and son of the horseman Phyleus, dear to Zeus,
who long before, enraged at his father, went to live
in Dulichium. With Meges followed forty black ships.

And Odysseus led the great-hearted Cephallenians
who dwelt in Ithaca and windy-wooded Neritum,
along with those who lived in Crocyleia and rugged
Aegilips, those holding Zacynthus and the area
near Samos, and those on the mainland opposite
the isles. They were led by Odysseus, equal
to Zeus in counsel, on twelve ships with red prows.

And the Aetolians who lived in Pleuron, Olenus,
Pylene, Chalcis by the sea, and rocky Calydon
were led by Thoas, son of Andraemon, for the sons
of great-hearted Oeneus were gone, as was the king
himself, and yellow-haired Meleager was also dead.
Thus, the burden of rule over all Aetolians passed
to him. He led a contingent of forty black ships.

Idomeneus, the great spearman, led the Cretans,
who dwelt in Cnossos, Gortyn with its high walls,
Lyctus, Miletus, the white cliffs of Lycastus,
the cheerful cities of Phaistos and Rhytium, and all
others who lived among the thousand cities of Crete.
Their leaders were Idomeneus, expert spearman,
and Meriones, equal of Enyalius, slayer of men.
Together, they led eighty black ships to Troy.

Tlepolemus, son of Heracles, a large and lanky
man, led nine ships out of Rhodes, all filled
with lordly Rhodians who divided into three
groups: Lindos, Ialysus, and Cameirus with its
white cliffs. Spear-famed Tlepolemus was born
to mighty Heracles by Astyocheia. Heracles
took her out of Ephyra by the Selleïs river
after sacking the city and slaying many warriors.
When Tlepolemus came of age in his father’s
palace, he killed Licymnius, his father’s beloved
uncle a child of Ares who had already grown old;
he quickly built ships, gathered a large band,
and escaped across the sea, for mighty Heracles’
sons and grandsons had threatened him. After
much weary wandering, he arrived at Rhodes
where his people settled into three distinct tribes.
Zeus, master of men, favored them, and he
rained a river of riches down upon them.

Nireus led three balanced ships out of Syme.
The son of Aglaïa and King Charopus, Nireus
was the second most handsome man among
the Danaans after the noble son of Peleus.
But he was powerless, and few men followed him.

Those who dwelt in Nisyrus, Carpathus, Casus,
Cos, Eurypylus, and the Calydnian islands
were led by Pheidippus and Antiphus,
sons of King Thessalus, son of Heracles.
With them there sailed thirty hollowed ships.

And all those who dwelt in Pelasgian Argos,
Alus, Alope, Trachis, Phthia, and Hellas,
land of fair women, and who were called
Myrmidons and Hellenes and Achaeans,
were commanded by Achilles, who led fifty ships.
But they were not concerned with waging war,
since there was no one to lead them into the ranks.
Swift-footed Achilles was idling by his ships,
enraged because of the fair-haired girl Briseïs,
whom he won after the sacking of Lyrnessus
and the Theban walls, and after striking down
the spear-fighters Mynes and Epistrophus, sons
of King Evenus, who was the son of Selepus. He
was idle in grief for her, but soon he would rise up.

And those who dwelt in Phylace, flowery Pyraus,
the sacred fields of Demeter, mother of sheep
Iton, Antron by the sea, and the grassy banks
of Pteleos were once led by warlike Protesilaus,
but the black earth had long since covered him.
He left a grieving wife in Phylace and a house
half-finished when he was killed by a Dardanian
after being the first Achaean to leap from the ships.
Though the men missed their leader, they were not
leaderless. Podarces, scion of Ares, took charge,
the son of Iphiclus Phylacus, and the younger,
full-blood brother of great-hearted Protesilaus.
Still, warlike Protesilaus was older than his brother
and a better warrior. Thus, while the men had
a leader, they mourned the great man they lost.
And with Podarces there sailed forty black ships.

The eleven ships of those who lived in Pherae
beside Boebeïs lake and in Boebe, Glaphyrae,
and well-built Iolcus were led by the beloved
son of Admetus, Eumelus, born to Admetus
by Alcestis, Pelias’ most beautiful daughter.

And those who lived in Methone, Thaumacia,
Meliboea, and rocky Olizon were led
by the famed archer Philoctetes. On each
of their seven ships were fifty rowers, and each
rower was an expert archer in battle. However,
Philoctetes lay in overwhelming pain on the holy
island of Lemnos, where the Achaean sons left
him in great grief after a bad bite from a deadly
water snake. But the Argives would soon
remember King Philoctetes. Though the men
missed their king, they were not without a leader,
for Medon marshaled them, the bastard son
of Oïleus, whom Rhene bore to the pillager.

And those who held Tricca, craggy Ithome,
and Oechalia, the city of Oechalian Eurytus,
were led by the two sons of Asclepius,
the skilled healers Podaleirius and Machaon.
Along with them sailed thirty hollowed ships.

And those who held Ormenium, the springs
of Hypereia, Asterium, and the white peaks
of Titanus were led by Eurypylus, dear son
of Euaemon. With him sailed forty black ships.

And those who held Argissa and Gyrtone,
Orthe, Elone, and Oloösson, the city of white,
were led by Polypoetes, staunch in the fight,
the son of Peirithous, son of Zeus. Glorious
Hippodameia conceived him to Peirithous
on the day he exacted revenge from the hairy
centaurs, forcing them out of Pelion and driving
them to Aethices. He led with Leonteus, scion
of Ares, son of great-hearted Coronus who was
Caeneus’ son. With them sailed forty black ships.

And Gouneus led twenty two ships from Cyphus,
filled with the Enienes and the Peraebi, staunch
fighters who built their homes in wintry Dodona
and in the fields around charming Titaressus,
the sweet stream that pours into the Peneius
but never merges with those crystal-clear waters;
instead, it floats over them like olive oil, for it is
a branch of the Styx, the terrible river of oaths.

And speedy Prothous, son of Tenthredon,
was the leader of the Magnetes, who dwelt
around Peneius and leaf-covered Pelion.
With Prothous there followed forty black ships.

These were the leaders and kings of the Danaans.
But tell me, Muse, who were the best warriors
and the best horses among the sons of Atreus?

The best horses were those driven by Eumelus,
grandson of Pheres: swift as birds, matching
in color, and equal in age and in height. Apollo
of the silver bow reared them in Pereia, a pair
of mares fueled by the fierce panic of war.
The bravest warrior was Telamonian Ajax—
so long as Achilles raged, for Peleus’ noble son
and the horses that drove him were by far the best.
But he sat among his crooked, sea-cleaving
ships, enraged at Agamemnon, son of Atreus.
His men by the sea shore amused themselves
with the discus, the javelin, and the bow;
their horses stood idle, eating cloves and celery
from the marshy ground; and the chariots
were covered in the tents of their masters.
The men, longing for their Ares-blessed leader,
wandered around the camp but did not fight.

So they advanced as if the earth was consumed
in fire, and the land groaned as when Zeus, hurler
of thunder, lashes out in anger at the land around
Typhoeus in Arimoi, where the creature sleeps.
And the earth roared beneath their feet as they
marched along, moving quickly over the plain.

Wind-swift Iris, messenger for aegis-bearing Zeus,
came to the Trojans with a grievous message.
A general assembly of Trojans, both young
and old, had gathered at Priam’s gate. Swift Iris
stood nearby and addressed them, disguising
her voice to sound like Polites, the son of Priam
who was Troy’s trusted lookout, posted atop
the barrow of old Aesyetes where he watched
for the Achaeans to move from their ships.
In his guise, swift-footed Iris said to them:
“Old man, you always enjoy endless debate,
but now endless war has sprung up. I have
engaged in countless battles between warriors,
but I have never before seen an army this size:
as many feet charging over the plains to the city
as there are leaves or grains of sand on a shore.
Hector, there are many allies all over Priam’s
city, but they speak different tongues and come
from different lands, so let each chief order
the men from his tribe to assemble and then
lead them out of the city and into battle.”

Hector heeded the goddess’ words and quickly
dismissed the assembly to take up arms. Then
the gates were opened, and with a rumbling
roar the army marched out, on foot and on horse.

In front of the city, there is a steep hill far off
in the distance with a clear space all around it.
The men call this hill Batieia, but the gods call
it the grave-mound of Myrine, the leaper; this is
where the Trojans and their allies marshaled forces.

The Trojan leader was gleaming-helmed Hector,
son of Priam; his army was by far the largest
and the best, each man eager to wield the sword.

The Dardanians were led by brave Aeneas, son
of Anchises, whom Aphrodite conceived when
she lay with the mortal at the spur of mount Ida.
He was aided by Antenor’s two sons, Archelochus
and Acamas, both skilled in all manner of fighting.

The Troes, who dwelt in Zeleia at the lowest foot
of Ida, were wealthy men who drank the dark water
of Aesepus and were led by the son of Lycaon,
Pandarus, who was given a bow by Apollo himself.

Those holding Adrasteia and the land of Apaesus,
and those in Pityeia and steep Mount Tereia
were led by Adrastus and Amphius who wore
a tight tunic made of linen, sons of the soothsayer
Merops of Percote who would not allow his sons
to join in war’s destruction, but they did not obey
him, for the black god of death drove their minds.

And those living around Percote and Practius
and those who held Sestus, Abydus, and rich
Arisbe were led by Hyrtacus’ son Asius, ruler
of men, who came from Arisbe and the river
Selleïs, borne by his massive, chestnut horses.

And the eager spearmen of the Pelasgi tribes,
who dwelt in fertile Larisa, were led by Hippothous
and his brother Pylaeus, child of Ares, sons
of Pelasgian Lethus, the son of Teutamus.

Acamas and the hero Peirous led the Thracians
who lived near the strong waters of the Hellespont.

And Euphemus, son Troezenus, cherished
by Zeus, led the Ciconian spearmen.

Pyraechmes led the Paeonians of the curved bows,
from far off Amydon by the wide-flowing Axius
whose waters were the most beautiful on earth.

The Paphlagonians were led by brave-hearted
Pylaemenes from Eneti, land of wild mules.
They held Cytorus, the area around Sesamus,
and the grand homes by the Parthenius river
in Cromna, Aegialus, and lofty Erythini.

Odius and Epistrophus led the Halizones
from far off Alybe, the birthplace of silver.

And the leaders of the Mysians were Chromis
and Ennomus, the soothsayer, who could not
prevent his black fate: to be killed in the river
by swift-footed Achilles, along with other Trojans.

And the Phrygians from far off Ascania were led
by the battle-ready Phorcys and godlike Ascanius.

The Maeonians from the foot of mount Tmolus
were led by Mesthles and Antiphus, sons
of Talaemenes and the nymph of the Gygaean lake.

And Nastes led the barbarous tongued Carians,
who held Miletus, the densely forested mountains
of Phthires, the rivers of Maeander, and the high
peaks of Mycale. Their leaders were Amphimachus
and Nastes, the glorious sons of Nomion. Foolish
Nastes came to the battle dressed all in gold like
a little girl, but it could not protect him from death,
for he was killed in the river at the hands of swift-
footed Achilles, and Achilles claimed the gold.

And Sarpedon and noble Glaucus led the Lycians
from far off Lycia, by the whirling river Xanthos.