Meanwhile the son of Peleus, godlike Achilles, Zeus-born, sat raging by his swift ships. He never went to the assembly that brings men honor, never to war, but wasted his heart out staying there, and longed for the war-cry and for fighting.
But when the twelfth dawn rose after that, the gods who live forever came back to Olympus, all of them together, and Zeus led them. Thetis did not forget her son’s charges. She rose from the sea’s wave in the early morning, went up to great heaven and Olympus, and found the wide-seeing son of Cronus sitting apart from the others on the highest peak of rugged Olympus. She sat down in front of him and took his knees with her left hand; with her right she took him under the chin, and she spoke in prayer to lord Zeus son of Cronus:
“Father Zeus: if ever I helped you among the immortals by word or act, fulfill this wish for me: honor my son, who is doomed to die soonest of all men. As it is, the lord of men Agamemnon has dishonored him. He has taken his prize and keeps it himself, having seized it. But you — Olympian Zeus of wise counsel — honor him. Put strength in the Trojans for a time, until the Achaeans honor my son and build him up with honor.”
So she spoke. Zeus who gathers the clouds did not answer her at all. He sat a long time in silence. Thetis, as she had taken his knees, held on, and asked him again: “Promise me truly, and nod your head to it — or refuse me. You have nothing to fear. Then I will know how far I am the most dishonored god of all.”
Zeus who gathers the clouds, deeply troubled, answered her: “This is a deadly business — when you set me on to quarrel with Hera. She will provoke me with insulting words. Even as it is she is always abusing me among the immortal gods, and saying I help the Trojans in battle. But for now, go back again, so Hera does not notice anything. I will take care of this and bring it to pass. Come — I will nod my head to you, so you can trust me. This is the greatest pledge from me among the immortals. No word of mine is revocable, deceitful, or unfulfilled, once I nod my head to it.”
The son of Cronus spoke, and nodded his dark brows. The ambrosial hair swept forward from the lord’s immortal head, and he made great Olympus shake.
When the two had made their plan that way, they parted. She leapt into the deep sea from shining Olympus, and Zeus went to his own house. All the gods rose together from their seats in the face of their father. No one dared wait for him coming; all stood up to meet him. So he sat down on his throne. But Hera was not unaware — she had seen that silver-footed Thetis, daughter of the old man of the sea, had been with him and made plans. At once she spoke to Zeus son of Cronus with cutting words:
“Who among the gods has been making plans with you now, you cunning one? Always you love to decide things apart from me, and weigh them in secret. You have never yet brought yourself to tell me freely whatever you are thinking.”
The father of gods and men answered her: “Hera, do not hope to know all my thoughts. They would be hard for you, even though you are my wife. Whatever is right for you to hear, no one then of gods or men will know before you. But whatever I mean to plan apart from the gods — do not ask about each thing or inquire into it.”
Lady Hera of the ox-eyes answered him: “Most dread son of Cronus, what is this you are saying? I have not been asking or inquiring before now — you plan whatever you want in perfect peace. But now I am terribly afraid in my mind that silver-footed Thetis, daughter of the old man of the sea, has won you over. In the early morning she sat beside you and took your knees. I think you nodded to her in truth that you would honor Achilles and destroy many by the Achaean ships.”
Zeus who gathers the clouds answered her: “You are possessed — always imagining. I can hide nothing from you. Even so, you will accomplish nothing; you will only be further from my heart — and that will be the worse for you. If this is how it is, then it must be what I want. Sit down; be quiet; obey my word — or all the gods in Olympus will be no help to you when I come near and lay my irresistible hands on you.”
So he spoke. The lady Hera of the ox-eyes was afraid. She sat down in silence, bending her own heart. Anger rose among the gods in Zeus’s house. Among them Hephaestus, the famous craftsman, began to speak, comforting his dear mother, Hera of the white arms:
“This will be a disastrous business, and not to be borne, if you two are going to quarrel this way over mortals, and bring noise among the gods. There will be no pleasure in the fine feast, since worse things win out. I advise my mother — wise as she is herself — to be kind to our dear father Zeus, so our father will not scold her again and disturb our feast. What if the Olympian lord of lightning wants to blast us from our seats? He is far the strongest. Soften him with soft words. Then the Olympian will at once be gracious to us.”
So he spoke, and sprang up and put a double cup in his dear mother’s hands, and spoke to her: “Be patient, my mother. Hold on, though it hurts you, so I do not see you struck before my eyes — and then, dear as you are, I will not be able to help you. The Olympian is hard to stand against. Once before, when I was eager to help you, he caught me by the foot and threw me from the divine threshold. I fell all day. With the sun going down I landed on Lemnos, and little life was left in me. The Sintian men took care of me at once after the fall.”
So he spoke. The goddess Hera of the white arms smiled, and smiling she took the cup from her child’s hand. Then he poured for all the other gods from left to right, drawing sweet nectar from the bowl. And unquenchable laughter rose among the blessed gods as they watched Hephaestus bustling through the house.
So then all day long until the sun went down they feasted, and no one’s hunger lacked a fair share — not of the equal feast, and not of the beautiful lyre that Apollo held, or of the Muses, who sang answering one another with a lovely voice.
But when the sun’s bright light had set, each god went home to sleep, where each one had a house the famous lame god Hephaestus had built with skilled knowledge. Olympian Zeus who hurls the lightning went to his own bed where he always lay when sweet sleep came to him. There he went up and slept, and beside him was Hera of the golden throne.