Then they embarked and sailed the watery ways. Atreus’s son told the people to purify themselves. They purified, and threw the filth into the sea, and offered Apollo perfect hecatombs of bulls and goats by the shore of the barren sea. The savor rose to the sky, turning around in the smoke.
So the men worked through the camp. Agamemnon did not give up the quarrel that he first threatened against Achilles. He called Talthybius and Eurybates, who were his heralds and ready servants:
“Go to the shelter of Peleus’s son Achilles. Take Briseis of the lovely cheeks by the hand and bring her here. If he will not give her, I will go myself with more men and take her — and it will be the worse for him.”
With that strong order he sent them off, and they walked unwilling along the shore of the barren sea, and came to the shelters and ships of the Myrmidons. They found him sitting by his shelter and his black ship. Achilles was not glad to see them. The two stood frightened, in awe of the king, and did not speak or ask. But he knew in his heart and spoke:
“Welcome, heralds — messengers of Zeus and of men. Come closer. You are not to blame in my eyes, but Agamemnon, who sent you for the girl Briseis. Come, born of Zeus, Patroclus — bring the girl out and give her to them to take away. And let these two be witnesses before the blessed gods and before mortal men — and before that hard king — if ever again there is need of me to ward ugly ruin from the others. The man rages in destructive folly; he does not know how to look forward and back at once, so the Achaeans might fight safely by their ships.”
So he spoke. Patroclus obeyed his dear companion. He brought Briseis of the lovely cheeks from the shelter and gave her to go with them. The two went back beside the Achaean ships, and the woman went with them unwilling. Then Achilles, weeping, sat apart from his companions, by the shore of the grey sea, looking out over the endless water. Stretching out his hands, he prayed hard to his dear mother:
“Mother: since you bore me to a short life, Olympian Zeus who thunders on high ought at least to have put honor in my hands. As it is, he has honored me not at all. Atreus’s son, wide-ruling Agamemnon, has dishonored me. He has taken my prize and keeps it himself, having seized it.”
So he spoke, weeping. His lady mother heard him as she sat in the depths of the sea beside her old father. She rose quickly from the grey sea like mist, and sat in front of him as he wept, stroked him with her hand, and spoke his name:
“Child, why are you crying? What pain has come to your heart? Speak out. Hide it in your mind — we can both know.”
Sighing deeply, swift-footed Achilles answered: “You know. Why should I tell you all this when you know it? We went to Thebe, the sacred city of Eetion. We sacked it and brought everything here. The sons of the Achaeans divided it fairly among themselves, and set apart for Atreus’s son Chryseis of the lovely cheeks. Then Chryses, priest of far-shooting Apollo, came to the swift ships of the bronze-clad Achaeans to free his daughter, bringing boundless ransom, holding in his hands the wreaths of far-shooting Apollo on a golden staff, and he begged all the Achaeans — and above all the two sons of Atreus, marshals of the people. Then all the other Achaeans cried out to respect the priest and take the splendid ransom. But it did not please Agamemnon son of Atreus in his heart; he sent him away harshly and laid a strong word on him. The old man went back angry. Apollo heard him praying, for he was very dear to him, and he shot an arrow of pain at the Argives. The men were dying one after another; the god’s shafts went everywhere through the Achaeans’ broad camp. A seer who knew well declared the far-shooter’s oracles for us. At once I was first to urge us to appease the god. Then rage seized Atreus’s son. He stood up at once and threatened a word that has now been fulfilled. The glancing-eyed Achaeans are sending the girl on a swift ship to Chryse, taking gifts for lord Apollo, and heralds have just gone from my shelter leading the girl Briseis, whom the sons of the Achaeans gave me. But you — if you can — protect your own child. Go to Olympus and beg Zeus, if ever you helped his heart with word or act. I have often heard you boast in my father’s halls that you alone among the immortals warded ugly ruin from Zeus of the dark clouds, when the other Olympians wanted to bind him — Hera and Poseidon and Pallas Athena. But you came, goddess, and undid his bonds. You quickly called the hundred-hander to high Olympus — the one the gods call Briareus, and all men Aegaeon — who is stronger than his father. He sat down beside Cronus’s son, glorying in his glory. The blessed gods were afraid of him and did not bind Zeus. Sit beside him now and take his knees. Perhaps he might be willing to help the Trojans — to pin the Achaeans back against the sterns and around the sea as they are being killed, so they can all have the benefit of their king, and so Atreus’s wide-ruling son may know his blindness in that he did not honor the best of the Achaeans.”