VIII
"TILL ODYSSEUS COMES!"
The Wanderer laughed like a God, though he deemed that the end was near,and the foes within the camp and the friends without looked on him andwondered.
"Slay him!" cried the foes within, speaking in many tongues. "Slay him!"they cried, and yet they feared the task, but circled round like houndsabout a mighty boar at bay.
"Spare him!" shouted the host of the Achaeans, watching the fray fromfar, as they stood behind their inner wall, for as yet they had notmingled in the battle but stayed by their ships to guard them.
"Rescue!" cried the Captains of Pharaoh without, but none came on toforce the way.
Then of a sudden, as Fate hung upon the turn, a great cry of fear andwonder rose from the ranks of Pharaoh's host beyond the wall. It swelledand swelled till at length the cry took the sound of a name--the soundof the name of _Hathor_.
"The Hathor! the Hathor! See, the Hathor comes!"
The Wanderer turned his head and looked swiftly. A golden chariot speddown the slope of sand towards the gate of the camp. The milk-whitehorses were stained with sweat and splashed with blood. They thunderedon towards the gate down the way that was red with blood, as the horsesof the dawn rush through the blood-red sky. A little man, withered andold, drove the chariot, leaning forward as he drove, and by his sidestood the Golden Helen. The Red Star blazed upon her breast, her hairand filmy robes floated on the wind.
She looked up and forth. Now she saw him, Odysseus of Ithaca, her love,alone, beset with foes, and a cry broke from her. She tore away the veilthat hid her face, and her beauty flashed out upon the sight of men asthe moon flashes from the evening mists. She pointed to the gate, shestretched out her arms towards the host of Pharaoh, bidding them lookupon her and follow her. Then a shout went up from the host, and theyrushed onwards in the path of the chariot, for where the Helen leadsthere men must follow through Life to Death through War to Peace.
On the chariot rushed to the camp, and after it the host of Pharaohfollowed. The holders of the gate saw the beauty of her who rode in thechariot; they cried aloud in many tongues that the Goddess of Lovehad come to save the God of War. They fled this way and that, or stooddrunken with the sight of beauty, and were dashed down by the horses andcrushed of the chariot wheels. Now she had passed the gates, and afterher poured the host of Pharaoh. Now Rei reined up the horses by thebroken chariot of the Wanderer, and now the Wanderer, with a shout ofjoy, had sprung into the chariot of Helen.
"And art thou come to be with me in my last battle?" he whispered in herear. "Art thou indeed that Argive Helen whom I love, or am I drunk withthe blood of men and blind with the sheen of spears, and is this thevision of a man doomed to die?"
"It is no vision, Odysseus, for I am Helen's self," she answered gently."I have learned all the truth, and knowing thy fault, count it but alittle thing. Yet because thou didst forget the words of the immortalGoddess, who, being my foe now and for ever, set this cunning snare forthee, the doom is on thee, that Helen shall not be thine in this spaceof life. For thou fightest in thy last battle, Odysseus. On! see thyhosts clamour to be led, and there the foe hangs black as storm andshoots out the lightning of his spears. On, Odysseus, on! that the doommay be accomplished, and the word of the Ghost fulfilled!"
Then the Wanderer turned and called to the Captains, and the Captainscalled to the soldiers and set them in array, and following theblood-red Star they rolled down upon the gathered foe as the tide rollsupon the rocks when the breath of the gale is strong; and as the watersleap and gather till the rocks are lost in the surge, so the hostof Pharaoh leapt upon the foe and swallowed them up. And ever in theforefront of the war blazed the Red Star on Helen's breast, and ever thesound of her singing pierced the din of death.
Now the host of the Nine-bow barbarians was utterly destroyed, and thehost of Pharaoh came up against the wall that was set about the campof the Achaeans to guard their ships, and at its head came the goldenchariot wherein were the Wanderer and Helen. The Captains of the Achaeanslooked wondering from their wall, watching the slaughter of theirallies.
"Now, who is this?" cried a Captain, "who is this clad in golden armourfashioned like our own, who leads the host of Pharaoh to victory?"
Then a certain aged leader of men looked forth and answered:
"Such armour I have known indeed, and such a man once wore it. Thearmour is fashioned like the armour of Paris, Priam's son--Paris ofIlios; but Paris hath long been dead."
"And who is she," cried the Captain, "she on whose breast a Red Starburns, who rides in the chariot of him with the golden armour, whoseshape is the shape of Beauty, and who sings aloud while men go down todeath?"
Then the aged leader of men looked forth again and answered:
"Such a one have I known, indeed; so she was wont to sing, and hers wassuch a shape of beauty, and such a Star shone ever on her breast. Helenof Ilios--Argive Helen it was who wore it--Helen, because of whoseloveliness the world grew dark with death; but long is Helen dead."
Now the Wanderer glanced from his chariot and saw the crests of theAchaeans and the devices on the shields of men with whose fathers hehad fought beneath the walls of Ilios. He saw and his heart was stirredwithin him, so that he wept there in the chariot.
"Alas! for the fate that is on me," he cried, "that I must make mylast battle in the service of a stranger against my own people and thechildren of my own dear friends."
"Weep not, Odysseus," said Helen, "for Fate drives thee on--Fate that iscruel and changeless, and heeds not the loves or hates of men. Weepnot, Odysseys, but go on up against the Achaeans, for from among them thydeath comes."
So the Wanderer went on, sick at heart, shooting no shafts and strikingno blow, and after him came the remnant of the host of Pharaoh. Thenhe halted the host, and at his bidding Rei drove slowly down the wallseeking a place to storm it, and as he drove they shot at the chariotfrom the wall with spears and slings and arrows. But not yet was theWanderer doomed. He took no hurt, nor did any hurt come to Rei nor tothe horses that drew the chariot, and as for Helen, the shafts ofDeath knew her and turned aside. Now while they drove thus Rei toldthe Wanderer of the death of Pharaoh, of the burning of the Temple ofHathor, and of the flight of Helen. The Wanderer hearkened and said butone thing, for in all this he saw the hand of Fate.
"It is time to make an end, Rei, for soon will Meriamun be seekingus, and methinks that I have left a trail that she can follow," and henodded at the piled-up dead that stretched further than the eye couldreach.
Now they were come over against that spot in the wall where stood theaged Captain of the Achaeans, who had likened the armour of the Wandererto the armour of Paris, and the beauty of her at his side to the beautyof Argive Helen.
The Captain loosed his bow at the chariot, and leaning forward watchedthe flight of the shaft. It rushed straight at Helen's breast, then of asudden turned aside, harming her not. And as he marvelled she liftedher face and looked towards him. Then he saw and knew her for that Helenwhom he had seen while he served with Cretan Idomeneus in the Argiveships, when the leaguer was done and the smoke went up from burningIlios.
Again he looked, and lo! on the Wanderer's golden shield he saw theWhite Bull, the device of Paris, son of Priam, as ofttimes he had seenit glitter on the walls of Troy. Then great fear took him, and he liftedup his hands and cried aloud:
"Fly, ye Achaeans! Fly! Back to your curved ships and away from thisaccursed land. For yonder in the chariot stands Argive Helen, who islong dead, and with her Paris, son of Priam, come to wreak the woesof Ilios on the sons of those who wasted her. Fly, ere the curse smiteyou."
Then a great cry of fear rose from the host of the Achaeans, as companycalled to company that the ghosts of Paris of Ilios and Argive Helen ledthe armies of Pharaoh on to victory. A moment they gazed as frightenedsheep gaze upon the creeping wolves, then turning from the wall, theyrushed headlong to their ships.
Behind them came the soldiers of Pharaoh, storming the w
alls and tearingat their flanks as wolves tear the flying sheep. Then the Achaeans turnedat bay, and a mighty fray raged round the ships, and the knees of manywere loosened. And of the ships, some were burned and some were leftupon the bank. But a remnant of them were pushed off into the deepwater, and hung there on their oars waiting for the end of the fray.
Now the sun was gone down, so that men could scarce see to slay eachother. The Wanderer stood his chariot on the bank, watching the battle,for he was weary, and had little mind to swell the slaughter of thepeople of his own land.
Now the last ship was pushed off, and at length the great battlewas done. But among those on the ship was a man still young, and thegoodliest and mightiest among all the host of the Achaeans. By his ownstrength and valour he had held the Egyptians back while his comradesran the curved ship down the beach, and the Wanderer, looking on him,deemed him their hardiest warrior and most worthy of the Achaeans.
He stood upon the poop of the ship, and saw the light from the burningvessels gleam on the Wanderer's golden helm. Then of a sudden he drew amighty bow and loosed an arrow charged with death.
"This gift to the Ghost of Paris from Telegonus, son of Circe and ofOdysseus, who was Paris' foe," he cried with a loud voice.
And as he cried it, and as the fateful words struck on the ears ofOdysseus and the ears of Helen, the shaft, pointed by the Gods, rushedon. It rushed on, it smote the Wanderer with a deadly wound where thegolden body-plate of his harness joined the taslets, and pierced himthrough. Then he knew that his fate was accomplished, and that deathcame upon him from the water, as the ghost of Tiresias in Hades hadforetold. In his pain, for the last time of all, he let fall his shieldand the black bow of Eurytus. With one hand he clasped the rail of thechariot and the other he threw about the neck of the Golden Helen, whobent beneath his weight like a lily before the storm. Then he also criedaloud in answer:
"Oh, Telegonus, son of Circe, what wickedness hast thou wrought beforethe awful Gods that this curse should have been laid upon thee to slayhim who begat thee? Hearken, thou son of Circe, I am not Paris, I amOdysseus of Ithaca, who begat thee, and thou hast brought my death uponme from the water, as the Ghost foretold."
When Telegonus heard these words, and knew that he had slain his father,the famed Odysseus, whom he had sought the whole world through, he wouldhave cast himself into the river, there to drown, but those with himheld him by strength, and the stream took the curved ship and floatedit away. And thus for the first and last time did the Gods give itto Telegonus to look upon the face and hear the voice of his father,Odysseus.
But when the Achaeans knew that it was the lost Odysseus who had led thehost of Pharaoh against the armies of the Nine Nations, they wonderedno more at the skill of the ambush and the greatness of the victory ofPharaoh.