“Ajax, godlike son of Telamon,” answered Achilles, “thou hast read my soul. But my heart is full of bitterness when I think of the man who treated me so vilely before the Argives. Go and bear him the message. I will not take up arms until the firebrands of the Trojans fall upon my own ships. Terrible as he is, I think Hector will not venture near my tents.” Perceiving that their eloquence was unavailing, the ambassadors returned to Agamemnon’s tent. Phœnix, however, remained with Achilles. The Greek princes were much cast down at the answer to their mission. Only Diomedes was able to keep up their courage by his unshakable confidence. “Atreus’ son,” he cried, “would thou hadst never implored help of the Pelide or offered him rich presents. He was proud enough before. Let him go or come; he will take up his lance as soon as his heart speaks. But do thou, King Agamemnon, as soon as Eos’ rosy fingers paint the sky, array thine horsemen and thy cohorts in front of the ships and place thyself at the front. Let us now to rest, for it is late and to-morrow we fight for our lives.” All agreed. The goblets were filled once more, a libation poured out to the gods, and then they separated, each one going to his own tent. Chapter VIII Agamemnon in Battle—Many of the Greeks are Wounded Morning had scarcely dawned when Agamemnon called all to arms, appearing in the foremost ranks clad in his most splendid armor and determined to fight more heroically this day than ever before. The great mass of foot-soldiers pressed forward in long lines shouting their battle cries, the war chariots containing the leaders following after them. At last the two armies met and whole ranks of men fell like grain before the reaper’s scythe. For some hours each side held its own, but toward noon the Achaians broke through the enemy’s lines and forced them back. As soon as the ranks were broken and bodies of men began to scatter in little groups over the plain, the charioteers had room for action and dashed forward to terrorize the foot-soldiers. Agamemnon was among the foremost, hurling his deadly lance continually at the Trojan princes. Two young and beautiful sons of Priam, both in one chariot, fell before him, and he took their accoutrements and horses. Next two sons of Antimachus came his way and received no quarter at his hands. He stood with bloody arm uplifted, swinging his lance, ready to strike down any who approached him. The Trojans fled in multitudes at the sound of his lionlike voice, and amid the wild confusion one could see frightened horses, with empty chariots trailing behind them, galloping back toward the city. Agamemnon and the other chieftains were relentlessly pursuing the flying Trojans, and as a lion following a herd of cattle will fasten his cruel claws into the necks of those which fall behind, thus the Achaians struck down many a fleeing warrior.