Can you save chryse

Not I, no. It wasn't Trojan spearmen who brought me here to fight. The Trojans never did me damage, not in the least, they never stole my cattle or my horses, never in Phthia where the rich soil breeds strong men did they lay waste my crops. How could they?

Look at the endless miles that lie between us. What do you care? You don't look right or left. And now you threaten to strip me of my prize in person— the one I fought for long and hard, and sons of Achaea handed her to me.

Better that way by far, to journey home in the beaked ships of war. I have no mind to linger here disgraced, brimming your cup and piling up your plunder. But the lord of men Agamemnon shot back, "Desert, by all means—if the spirit drives you home! I will never beg you to stay, not on my account. Never—others will take my side and do me honor, Zeus above all, whose wisdom rules the world.

You—I hate you most of all the warlords loved by the gods. Always dear to your heart, strife, yes, and battles, the bloody grind of war. What if you are a great soldier? That's just a gift of god.

Go home with your ships and comrades, lord it over your Myrmidons! But let this be my warning on your way: since Apollo insists on taking my Chryseis, I'll send her back in my own ships with my crew. But I, I will be there in person at your tents to take Briseis in all her beauty, your own prize— so you can learn just how much greater I am than you and the next man up may shrink from matching words with me, from hoping to rival Agamemnon strength for strength!

He broke off and anguish gripped Achilles. The heart in his tugged chest was pounding, torn. Should he draw the long sharp sword slung at his hip, thrust through the ranks and kill Agamemnon now? Rearing behind him Pallas seized his fiery hair— only Achilles saw her, none of the other fighters struck with wonder he spun around, he knew her at once, Pallas Athena!

Child of Zeus with the shield of thunder, why come now? To witness the outrage Agamemnon just committed? I tell you this, and so help me it's the truth— he'll soon pay for his arrogance with his life! Her gray eyes clear, the goddess Athena answered, "Down from the skies I come to check your rage if only you will yield. Stop this fighting, now. Don't lay hand to sword.

Lash him with threats of the price that he will face. Hold back now. Obey us both. So she urged and the swift runner complied at once: "I must— when the two of you hand down commands, Goddess, a man submits though his heart breaks with fury. Better for him by far. If a man obeys the gods they're quick to hear his prayers. And with that Achilles stayed his burly hand on the silver hilt and slid the huge blade back in its sheath.

He would not fight the orders of Athena. Soaring home to Olympus, she rejoined the gods aloft in the halls of Zeus whose shield is thunder. But Achilles rounded on Agamemnon once again, lashing out at him, not relaxing his anger for a moment: "Staggering drunk, with your dog's eyes, your fawn's heart!

Safer by far, you find, to foray all through camp, commandeering the prize of any man who speaks against you. King who devours his people! Worthless husks, the men you rule— if not, Atrides, this outrage would have been your last. I tell you this, and I swear a mighty oath upon it. Down on the ground he dashed the scepter studded bright with golden nails, then took his seat again. The son of Atreus smoldered, glaring across at him, but Nestor rose between them, the man of winning words, the clear speaker of Pylos.

Sweeter than honey from his tongue the voice flowed on and on. Two generations of mortal men he had seen go down by now, those who were born and bred with him in the old days, in Pylos' holy realm, and now he ruled the third.

He pleaded with both kings, with clear good will, "No more—or enormous sorrow comes to all Achaea! How they would exult, Priam and Priam's sons and all the Trojans. Oh they'd leap for joy to hear the two of you battling on this way, you who excel us all, first in Achaean councils, first in the ways of war. Listen to Nestor. You are both younger than I, and in my time I struck up with better men than you, even you, but never once did they make light of me.

I've never seen such men, I never will again. They were the strongest mortals ever bred on earth, the strongest, and they fought against the strongest too, shaggy Centaurs, wild brutes of the mountains— they hacked them down, terrible, deadly work.

And none of the men who walk the earth these days could battle with those fighters, none, but they, they took to heart my counsels, marked my words. So now you listen too. Yielding is far better. Don't seize the girl, Agamemnon, powerful as you are— leave her, just as the sons of Achaea gave her, his prize from the very first.

And you, Achilles, never hope to fight it out with your king, pitting force against his force: no one can match the honors dealt a king, you know, a sceptered king to whom great Zeus gives glory.

Here the man stands over all Achaea's armies, our rugged bulwark braced for shocks of war. But King Agamemnon answered him in haste, "True, old man—all you say is fit and proper— but this soldier wants to tower over the armies, he wants to rule over all, to lord it over all, give out orders to every man in sight. Well, there's one, I trust, who will never yield to him!

What if the everlasting gods have made a Spearman of him? Have they entitled him to hurl abuse at me? Fling them at others, don't give me commands! Never again, I trust, will Achilles yield to you.

You Achaeans gave her, now you've snatched her back. But all the rest I possess beside my fast black ship— not one bit of it can you seize against my will, Atrides. Come, try it! So the men can see, that instant, your black blood gush and spurt around my spear! Achilles strode off to his trim ships and shelters, back to his friend Patroclus and their comrades. Agamemnon had a vessel hauled down to the sea, he picked out twenty oarsmen to man her locks, put aboard the cattle for sacrifice to the god and led Chryseis in all her beauty amidships.

Versatile Odysseus took the helm as captain. All embarked, the patty launched out on the sea's foaming lanes while the son of Atreus told his troops to wash, to purify themselves from the filth of plague. So the men were engaged throughout the camp. But King Agamemnon would not stop the quarrel, the first threat he hurled against Achilles. He called Talthybius and Eurybates briskly, his two heralds, ready, willing aides: "Go to Achilles' lodge. Take Briseis at once, his beauty Briseis by the hand and bring her here.

But if he will not surrender her, I'll go myself, I'll seize her myself, with an army at my back— and all the worse for him! He sent them off with the strict order ringing in their ears. Against their will the two men made their way along the breaking surf of the barren salt sea and reached the Myrmidon shelters and their ships.

They found him beside his lodge and black hull, seated grimly—and Achilles took no joy when he saw the two approaching. They were afraid, they held the king in awe and stood there, silent. Not a word to Achilles, not a question.

But he sensed it all in his heart, their fear, their charge, and broke the silence for them: "Welcome, couriers! Good heralds of Zeus and men, here, come closer. You have done nothing to me. You are not to blame. No one but Agamemnon— he is the one who sent you for Briseis. Go, Patroclus, Prince, bring out the girl and hand her to them so they can take her back.

But let them both bear witness to my loss. The man is raving—with all the murderous fury in his heart. He lacks the sense to see a day behind, a day ahead, and safeguard the Achaeans battling by the ships. Patroclus obeyed his great friend's command. He led Briseis in all her beauty from the lodge and handed her over to the men to take away. And the two walked back along the Argive ships while she trailed on behind, reluctant, every step.

But Achilles wept, and slipping away from his companions, far apart, sat down on the beach of the heaving gray sea and scanned the endless ocean. Reaching out his arms, again and again he prayed to his dear mother: "Mother!

So he wept and prayed and his noble mother heard him, seated near her father, the Old Man of the Sea in the salt green depths. Suddenly up she rose from the churning surf like mist and settling down beside him as he wept, stroked Achilles gently, whispering his name, "My child— why in tears? What sorrow has touched your heart? Tell me, please. Don't harbor it deep inside you. We must share it all. And now from his depths the proud runner groaned: "You know, you know, why labor through it all?

You know it all so well. We raided Thebe once, Eetion's sacred citadel, we ravaged the place, hauled all the plunder here and the armies passed it round, share and share alike, and they chose the beauty Chryseis for Agamemnon. But soon her father, the holy priest of Apollo the distant deadly Archer, Chryses approached the fast trim ships of the Argives armed in bronze to win his daughter back, bringing a priceless ransom and bearing high in hand, wound on a golden staff, the wreaths of the god who strikes from worlds away.

He begged the whole Achaean army but most of all the two supreme commanders, Atreus' two sons, and all ranks of Achaeans cried out their assent, 'Respect the priest, accept the shining ransom! And shattered with anger, the old man withdrew but Apollo heard his prayer—he loved him, deeply— he loosed his shaft at the Argives, withering plague, and now the troops began to drop and die in droves, the arrows of god went showering left and right, whipping through the Achaeans' vast encampment.

But the old seer who knew the cause full well revealed the will of the archer god Apollo. And I was the first, mother, I urged them all, 'Appease the god at once! Agamemnon leapt to his feet and hurled his threat—his threat's been driven home. The other girl, just now, the heralds came and led her away from camp, Briseus' daughter, the prize the armies gave me.

But you, mother, if you have any power at all, rotect your son! Go to Olympus, plead with Zeus, if you ever warmed his heart with a word or any action. Time and again I heard your claims in father's halls, boasting how you and you alone of all the immortals rescued Zeus, the lord of the dark storm cloud, from ignominious, stark defeat.

Down he sat, flanking Cronus' son, gargantuan in the glory of it all, and the blessed gods were struck with terror then, they stopped shackling Zeus.

Remind him of that, now, go and sit beside him, grasp his knees. All I bore was doom. Would to god you could linger by your ships without a grief in the world, without a torment!

Doomed to a short life, you have so little time. And not only short, now, but filled with heartbreak too, more than all other men alive—doomed twice over. Ah to a cruel fate I bore you in our halls! Still, I shall go to Olympus crowned with snow and repeat your prayer to Zeus who loves the lightning. Perhaps he will be persuaded. But you, my child, stay here by the fast ships, rage on at the Achaeans, just keep clear of every foray in the fighting.

Only yesterday Zeus went off to the Ocean River to feast with the Aethiopians, loyal, lordly men, and all the gods went with him. But in twelve days the Father returns to Olympus. Then, for your sake, up I go to the bronze floor, the royal house of Zeus— I'll grasp his knees, I think I'll win him over. With that vow his mother went away and left him there, alone, his heart inflamed for the sashed and lovely girl they'd wrenched away from him against his will.

Meanwhile Odysseus drew in close to Chryse Island, bearing the splendid sacrifice in the vessel's hold. Then tactful Odysseus led her up to the altar, placing her in her loving father's arms, and said, "Chryses, the lord of men Agamemnon sent me here to bring your daughter back and perform a sacrifice, a grand sacrifice to Apollo—for all Achaea's sake— so we can appease the god who's loosed such grief and torment on the Argives.

With those words he left her in Chryses' arms and the priest embraced the child he loved, exultant. Rising among them Chryses stretched his arms to the sky and prayed in a high resounding voice, "Hear me, Apollo!

God of the silver bow who strides the walls of Chryse and Cilla sacrosanct—lord in power of Tenedos! If you honored me last time and heard my prayer and rained destruction down on all Achaea's ranks, now bung my prayer to pass once more.

Now, at last, drive this killing plague from the armies of Achaea! And soon as the men had prayed and flung the barley, first they lifted back the heads of the victims, slit their throats, skinned them and carved away the meat from the thighbones and wrapped them in fat, a double fold sliced clean and topped with strips of flesh. Once they had burned the bones and tasted the organs they cut the rest into pieces, pierced them with spits, roasted them to a turn and pulled them off the fire.

The work done, the feast laid out, they ate well and no man's hunger lacked a share of the banquet. Michael is ten gallons of manly in a five gallon hat.

You're going to have to work your butt off to prove you can be a hero. You heard that Michael, the grandson of the Chief, is preparing to eliminate Xerxes. Maybe you should go to talk to him. You have eliminated all the Golden Scopies. Michael won't have any doubts about your skills now, yeah? Skip to main content. Welcome, Mapler!

Forum Guides Contact Login. Forum Contact. Can You Save Chryse? El Nath. Qualifications for a Savior 1. That's definitely enough Scorpies for now. Qualifications for a Savior 2. Taking out those Scorpies wasn't enough? Eliminate all the Golden Scorpies to show Michael what you're really made of! Eliminate all the Scopies to show Michael what you're made of!