“Do thou guide the steeds thyself, Æneas, for they know thee; else might Diomedes take them captive and slay us too. I will meet him with the point of my sharp spear.” Together they mounted the handsome chariot and dashed toward Diomedes, who was driving across the field with Sthenelus. “Look!” cried Sthenelus. “There come two heroes making for us. Let me turn back, for they seem bold warriors, and thou art weary with long fighting and thy painful wound.” “Not so,” said Diomedes angrily. “It is not my custom thus to flee. I will await them here, and if one of them escape, the other shall be my prey. Do thou follow me, and if I should wound them both, seize thou the enemy’s steeds. I know them. They are magnificent horses of the famous breed which Jupiter once gave to King Thoas for his captured son Ganymede. Hasten, for the chariot is already upon us.” He swung himself to the ground and at the same moment Pandarus’ arrow struck his shield, and though it made him stagger, he shook the shield in Pandarus’ face and cried: “Do not triumph too soon, but rather take care that thou thyself escape death!” Æneas turned his steeds in terror, but he could not save his friend; Diomedes’ spear had struck him down. As Æneas descended to bear away the body, he too was sorely wounded. Sthenelus meanwhile led away the beautiful steeds and they were taken to Diomedes’ tents. Aphrodite now approached her fainting son and her merciful arms bore him off the field. “It must be a goddess who has rescued him,” said Diomedes to himself. “But it can be none other than Aphrodite, who appears so unwarlike. Good, I will overtake her and attain undying fame.” He hastened after the goddess, swung his spear, and wounded her in the wrist, so that her clear blood stained the earth. The goddess screamed and let the warrior slip from her arms, but he was again rescued by Phœbus Apollo, who covered him with a dark cloud. Diomedes still pursued the goddess with loud cries. “Retire, daughter of Jupiter, and leave the battlefield to men. It is bad enough that thou causest women to bring such misery upon the nations. Woe to thee shouldst thou come near me in the fight!” The goddess was terrified and fled as fast as she could. Iris came to meet her and conducted her to the edge of the battlefield, where Mars, the god of war, sat gloating over his work. A cloud surrounded him and concealed him from mortal eyes. “Dear brother,” said Aphrodite, “lend me thy horses that I may quickly reach Olympus. Look! A mortal has wounded me.” Iris took the reins and the horses flew swiftly away through the air.