BY V. C. TURNBULL

"Mournful Oenone, wandering forlorn Of Paris, once her playmate on the hills."

TENNYSON: _Oenone_.

Queen Hecuba, wife of Priam, King of Troy, dreamed an evil dream. For in her sleep she thought one came to her and said: "Behold, thou shalt bring forth a torch which shall set thy palace afire."

Not many days afterwards, therefore, when the Queen bore a son, Priam, to whom she had told her dream, ordered his slaves to destroy the child. But before his cruel order could be carried out, Hecuba contrived to steal away the babe and place it with certain shepherds--kindly folk, who cared for it as their own child--on Mount Ida, over against the city of Troy. And they called the child Paris.

Now Paris, though reared among rude shepherd folk, soon showed that royal blood ran in his veins, and he won great praise from the shepherds for his skill in tending the sheep upon the mountain, and for the daring with which he pursued and slew the wild beasts who sought to devour them.

So Paris grew to man's estate, and in all the land was none fairer than he, or more gracious withal. No marvel, then, that the mountain maid Oenone, whose home was in the vale of Ida, should be smitten by his beauty; and he loving her with equal warmth, they were wedded and lived together in that pleasant land with the happiness of simple folk.

Together they shared the pleasures of the chase, and Oenone was not less skilled than Paris in cheering on the hounds and in spreading the nets. In quieter moods they would wander together by the river or in the woods, and Paris would carve their names upon the gray boles of the beeches. And on one poplar that grew on the banks of the river Xanthus, he carved these words:

"Back to its source thy stream shall start, Ere Paris from Oenone part."

But even then the G.o.ds were preparing a bitter sorrow for Paris, for Oenone, and for countless generations of mortals otherwhere.

Across the sea, in Thessaly, a great feast was being held to celebrate the wedding of Peleus and Thetis. And because the bride was no maiden born of woman, but an immortal Nereid, all the G.o.ds and G.o.ddesses were bidden to the banquet. All were bidden save one, Eris by name, the G.o.ddess of Strife, most hateful of the immortals. So she, full of rage at the slight, cast on the board where all the guests were feasting a golden apple bearing the legend _To the Fairest_.

Then ensued, as Eris had intended, great strife among the G.o.ddesses, and, in especial, Juno, Minerva, and Venus claimed each the golden fruit. So the G.o.ds, not willing themselves to settle the dispute, bade the three G.o.ddesses betake themselves to Mount Ida, there to seek the judgment of Paris and to abide by his decision.

So on a day before the lowly bower of Paris and Oenone stood the three great G.o.ddesses. Naked they came, clad in celestial radiance, as with a garment, and at their feet violets and crocuses pushed upward through the gra.s.s, and hovering round them were the peac.o.c.k of Juno, the owl of Minerva, and the doves of Venus.

Then when Paris faltered, not knowing which to choose when all were so fair, Juno, Queen of Heaven, said: "Choose me, and I will give thee the kingdoms of the world."

Then Minerva, the wise Virgin G.o.ddess, said: "Choose me, and I will give thee wisdom."

Last of all, Venus, the sea-born G.o.ddess of Love, whispered: "Choose me, and I will give thee to wife the fairest woman in Greece."

Smiling, she stretched forth her hand and the golden apple was hers, and the three G.o.ddesses vanished in a cloud, and with them vanished all happiness from the heart of Oenone.

Not long after this, Priam, King of Troy, proposed a contest in arms among his sons and other princes, promising to the winner the finest bull on the pastures of Mount Ida. And Paris, grieving to see the bull driven off by the messengers of Priam, determined that he too would strive with the sons of Priam, whom as yet he knew not for his brothers.

So on the day fixed for the contests, Paris strove with Priam's sons Polites, Helenus, and Deiphobus, and with other princes, and worsted them all. Yea, and he strove also with the strongest of the king's sons, great Hector himself, and for him too was he a match. But Hector, enraged, turned and pursued Paris as he would kill him, so that Paris fled to the temple of Jupiter for refuge. In this temple he was met by Ca.s.sandra, the daughter of Priam, to whom Apollo had granted knowledge of things to come. And marking in Paris the very mold and features of her own brothers, she drew from him all he knew of his story. So, adding thereto of her own knowledge, Ca.s.sandra knew that this was indeed her brother who was put away while a baby, and taking him by the hand she led him back to the household of Priam and Hecuba, bidding all embrace their brother and son. Then Priam and Hecuba and all their sons very gladly took Paris to their hearts, for they forgot the dismal prophecy of his birth, noting only his modest courtesy, his beauty, and his strength.

Paris, therefore, remained a while in the royal household, and all made him great cheer. Yet was he not wholly happy in the palace of Priam. Not, alas! that his thoughts turned often to Oenone whom he had left on Mount Ida, but evermore there sounded in his ears the low voice of Venus, saying: "The fairest woman in Greece shall be thy wife."

And Paris would muse, saying to himself: "Helen, wife of Menelaus, King of Sparta, is the fairest of all the daughters of men. All the princes of Greece sought her hand in marriage, and when those who have seen her try to tell of her beauty, speech fails them, for she is more fair than man can tell or poet can sing."

Then, pursuing his thought, he would ponder: "Am not I, Paris, no more a shepherd on Mount Ida, but now a prince in a royal palace and son of the King of Troy? Surely the word that Venus spake will yet be fulfilled!"

Now Priam's sister, Hesione, had been carried off and wedded against her will, and this thing was a bitterness to Priam. So Paris, perceiving this, set himself and his fellows to build and man a fleet, declaring that he would bring back Hesione, but thinking in his heart not of Hesione, but of Helen. To obtain wood for his ships he returned to Mount Ida to cut down the tallest pines that crowned the craggy ledges where the winds of the sea sighed through the branches, as it were, indeed, the soughing of another sea through the melancholy tree-tops.

Oenone received her lord with gladness on his return; but when she knew that his thought was but to fashion ships for a voyage, the spirit of prophecy came upon her, and she cried to him, as one inspired: "A bitter thing is this that thou doest, O Paris, my husband! For behold, thou farest to Greece to fetch hither the ruin of thy country and thy kindred. Yea, and to me shalt thou come at the last, stricken unto death, beseeching the aid of my leechcraft...." At this place the gift failed her as suddenly as it had come, and she fell to weeping.

But Paris, kissing her, bade her put away her fears and look out over the sea for his return. And when he had fashioned his ships and rigged them with tall masts and calked them with pitch, he set sail across the seas, leaving Oenone to watch for his homeward sails.

Many days did she sit upon a cliff that overlooked the blue waters, watching for the ship's return. One night, as in a vision, she saw, or seemed to see, a white sail on the marge, and it sped before the wind and pa.s.sed close beneath the cliff where she stood at gaze. And as she looked down, her heart turned sick within her; for on the deck stood a lady. A daughter of the G.o.ds she seemed, divinely fair, and her arms were round the neck of Paris, while her head lay upon his breast. And Oenone saw Paris spring to sh.o.r.e bearing this lady in his arms; she saw him lead her to the city of Troy; she saw the gates flung open and all the people come forth to meet the pair; and she knew that this was Helen, the fairest of women, who had fled with Paris from Menelaus, her husband. She knew, too, that she, Oenone, would be left lonely till she died.

Now followed that great siege of Troy of which poets will sing till the end of time. For Menelaus, the husband of Helen, and his brother Agamemnon, the great general, stirred up all the princes of Greece who had been the suitors of Helen and, on her marriage with Menelaus, had bound themselves in a solemn league to protect her from all manner of violence. So all the princes and captains of Greece came with a great host and many ships, and laid siege to Troy; and many battles were fought upon the plains outside the city walls. And to Oenone, wandering widowed upon Mount Ida, the sound of the strife rolled up, and from afar she perceived the confused struggle of chariots and horses and men; but she heard and saw these things as one who marked them not, for it was as if her heart had died, and her life had ended.

Now when the war had lasted for a s.p.a.ce of years, Paris, although constantly protected by the G.o.ddess Venus, received a wound from the poisoned arrow of one Philoctetes. Then in his anguish he remembered his deserted Oenone, and her great skill at leechcraft, and he said to his attendants: "Carry me out of the city to Mount Ida, that I may look once more on the face of my wife Oenone, and beseech her pardon for the great wrong she has endured at my hands. And haply, when she seeth my grievous state, her pitiful heart will be moved with compa.s.sion, and she will heal me with her leechcraft, for naught else may avail."

So they carried Paris in a litter up the slopes of Mount Ida. And Oenone, seeing them approach, went down swiftly to meet them. And Paris, when he saw her coming, stretched out his arms a little and let them fall, for they were very weak; and Oenone, uttering a lamentable cry, like a bird who sees her nestling slain, flew to meet his embrace. But in that moment Paris had breathed his last. The eyes, once so bright, were fixed in a stony stare, and the dews of death were on that marble brow. Then Oenone, forgetting all the wrongs she had suffered, remembering only the morning light of happy marriage and that he had come back to her at the last, fell down upon his breast embracing him and bathing him with her tears. Then, crying aloud with a great and exceeding bitter cry, she plucked a dagger from her girdle and plunged it into her heart, falling dead upon the breast which had pillowed her head in other years. So died Oenone, faithful to the faithless, the most innocent of all who perished for the sin of Paris, the son of Priam.

IPHIGENIA

BY MRS. GUY E. LLOYD

Menelaus, brother of the King of Mycenae, had for his wife the most beautiful woman in the world, whose name was Helen; but she was stolen from him by a treacherous guest, Paris, the son of Priam, King of Troy, who carried her away with him to his home far over the sea.

Then Menelaus, in his anger and sorrow, asked all his friends to help him to bring back his wife, and to punish his treacherous guest, and all the chieftains of Greece came to his aid, for Troy was a wondrous strong city, and its walls had been built by Neptune, the G.o.d of the sea.

Foremost of all the chieftains was Agamemnon, King of Mycenae, the elder brother of Menelaus; he was chosen to be the head of the whole array, and under him served Ulysses, the wise king of Ithaca, and Achilles, chief of the Myrmidons, whom no weapon could wound save in the heel; and many more of fame throughout the whole world.

The fleet came together at Aulis in the land of Boeotia; all were ready and eager to fare forth over the sea and fight against Troy; and a goodly sight it was to see the bra.s.s-beaked vessels and the brave warriors who crowded thick upon them.

But day after day pa.s.sed by and the fleet lay still in harbor, for no breeze came to fill the sails. And all the chieftains were dumfounded, for their valor was of no avail, and their hearts were heavy within them; for they knew not wherefore their ships lay thus becalmed, and they feared lest the immortal G.o.ds did not will that Troy should fall.

At last they sent for Calchas, the wise seer, and asked if he could tell them the will of the G.o.ds.

And Calchas made answer: "The winds are withheld from you, O chieftains, by the will of Diana, the huntress of the woods. For King Agamemnon, once on a day, slew a stag within her sacred grove, and ever since she has hated him sore, and therefore she will not let you sail till her anger is appeased by rich offerings."

Then said King Agamemnon; "Since mine is the blame, let the expiation be mine also. Speak, Calchas: what offering will content the G.o.ddess, that the winds may come forth from their prison-house and our ships spread their sails and fare over the sea to Troy?"

All hearkened eagerly, for the face of Calchas was dark and terrible, so that every man feared to hear his answer.

"The G.o.ddess asks of thee the best and most beautiful of all that is thine," said the stern seer; "she asks the life of thy daughter Iphigenia."

A shudder ran through all who heard the fearful words. Menelaus, with a cry of sorrow and terror, came close to his brother and laid his hand on his arm, and Agamemnon the king stood in a tumult of agony, speaking no word for some little s.p.a.ce.

At length the chieftain looked round upon his comrades, saying: "A hard fate is upon me, ye leaders of the Greeks. For either I must shed blood that is dearer to me than my own, or else our great array must lie here idle till the ships are rotten or the captains desert and leave us stranded."

Then said Menelaus to Calchas: "Is there no other way? Cannot the great G.o.ddess be appeased without this innocent victim?"

And Calchas made answer: "There is no other way."

Agamemnon, with bowed head, climbed slowly to his tent upon the hillside, and the rumor ran quickly through the camp that the wrath of Diana could only be turned away by the death of the fair and innocent maiden Iphigenia, the daughter of the king.