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raised his hands to heaven and prayed to Zeus in the name of all. “Father Zeus, supreme and glorious, and you, Sun, who see all and hear all; Rivers, Earth, and you who under the earth punish traitors, be our witnesses and preserve our pacts: if Paris kills Menelaus, he will take Helen and all her possessions, and we will go away forever on our ships that plow the sea; and if Menelaus kills Paris, the Trojans will give us Helen and all her possessions, and will pay the Argives a price so high that it will be remembered for generations and generations. And if Priam and his sons are unwilling to pay, I will fight for that recompense, and remain here, until this war ends.”
    So he prayed, and then with a sure stroke he slaughtered the lambs and laid them, trembling as they died, on the ground. All the chiefs drank from the great wine bowl and prayed to the gods. And they said to one another, “If anyone dares to violate the pacts, may Zeus pour out his brains and those of his children as we pour this wine!” When everything was done, Priam, the old king, the old father, climbed into his chariot beside Antenor and said to the Trojans and the Achaeans, “Let me return to my wind-whipped city, because I don’t have the heart to watch my son Paris fight here with fierce Menelaus.” He spurred on the horses himself, and went off.
    Then came the duel. Hector and Odysseus marked out on the ground the area where the two men would fight. Then they placed lots in a helmet, and, after shaking them, Odysseus,without looking, drew the name of the one who would be first to hurl the deadly spear. And fate chose Paris. The warriors were sitting all around. I watched Paris, my new husband, put on his armor: first the fine greaves, fastened with silver pins; then the breastplate over his chest; and the bronze sword studded with silver, and the big heavy shield. He placed on his head the shining helmet: the tall crest blew in the wind, stirring fear. Finally he grasped the spear and held it tight in his fist. Opposite him, Menelaus, my old husband, finished putting on his armor. Under the eyes of the two armies they advanced, looking at each other fiercely. Then they stopped, and the duel began. I saw Paris hurl his long spear. Violently it struck Menelaus’s shield, but the bronze didn’t crack, and the spear broke and fell to the ground. Then Menelaus in turn raised his spear and hurled it at Paris with enormous power. It hit in the middle of the shield and the deadly point tore through and pierced the breastplate, grazing Paris in the side. Menelaus drew his sword and rushed at him. He struck him hard on the helmet, but the sword broke. He cursed the gods and then with a leap grabbed Paris by the head, hands clutching the shining plumed helmet. And he began to drag him toward the Achaeans, Paris lying in the dust and he, holding the helmet in a murderous grip, dragging him, until the leather strap that held the helmet in place under his chin broke and Menelaus found himself with the helmet empty in his hands. He raised it to the sky, turned to the Achaeans, and, swinging it in the air, tossed it among them. When he turned again toward Paris, he saw that he had escaped, disappearing among the ranks of the Trojans.
    It was at that moment that the woman touched my veil and spoke to me. She was an old seamstress who had come with me from Sparta, and had sewed splendid garments for methere. She loved me, and
I was afraid of her.
That day, up on the tower above the Scaean gates, she came to me and in a low voice said, “Come, Paris awaits you in his bed. He has put on his finest garments—as if he had returned from a feast rather than a fight.”
    I was astonished. “Miserable creature,” I said to her, “why do you want to tempt me? You would be capable of bringing me to the ends of the earth if a man there was dear to you. Now, because Menelaus has defeated Paris and wants to take me home, you come to me plotting deception … You go