Then did Paris arm himself. Greaves of beauteous fashioning he placed upon his legs, and fastened them with silver ankle-clasps. Over his shoulders he put his silver-studded sword of bronze and his great shield. On his head he placed a helmet with nodding crest of horse-hair, and in his hand he grasped his strong spear. In like manner did Menelaus arm himself. One moment did they stand face to face, wrath and hatred in their hearts, their spears gripped firm in their hands. Then did Paris hurl his spear and smite the shield of Menelaus. But the shield was strong and the spear could not pierce it. His hand lifted up for the cast, Menelaus looked upwards and called to Zeus. ‘Grant me revenge, great Zeus!’ he cried. ‘On him that hath done me grievous wrong, grant me vengeance, so that all men hereafter may shudder to wrong one who hath treated him as his honoured guest.’ Then hurled he his mighty spear. Through the bright shield it went, and through the shining breastplate, tearing the tunic of Paris on his thigh. But Paris swerved aside, and so escaped death. Then Menelaus drew his silver-studded sword and drove it crashing down upon the helmet of Paris. But in four pieces was the sword shattered, and fell from the hand of Menelaus. ‘Surely art thou the most cruel of all the gods, Zeus!’ angrily he cried. ‘My spear is cast in vain, and my sword shattered, and my vengeance is still to come!’ So saying, he leapt upon Paris. By the crest on his helmet he seized him, and, swinging him round, he dragged him towards the Greek host. The embroidered strap beneath the helmet of Paris strangled him, and so he would have shamefully died, had not Aphrodite marked his plight. Swiftly did she burst the leather strap, and the helmet was left empty in the grasp of Menelaus. Casting the empty helmet, with a swing, to his comrades, Menelaus sprang back, ready, with another spear, to slay his enemy. But Aphrodite snatched Paris up, and in thick mist she hid him, and bore him away to his own home. Like a wild beast Menelaus strode through the host, searching for him. But no Trojan would have hidden him, for with a bitter hatred did the men of Troy hate Paris, most beautiful of mortal men. Then said Agamemnon: ‘Hearken to me, ye Trojans. Now hath Menelaus gained the victory. Give us back Helen, and all that is hers, and pay me the recompense that ye owe me for all the evil days that are gone.’ So spake he, and glad were the shouts of the Greeks as they heard the words of their king. CHAPTER IV HOW MENELAUS WAS WOUNDED; AND THE BRAVE DEEDS OF DIOMEDES While Menelaus made search for Paris, Hera and Athene plotted together, wrathfully planning how best to bring harm upon Paris and the men of Troy. No wish had they that the grievous war should be ended, and Paris, whom they hated, allowed to go unpunished. Like a shooting-star that flashes through the sky, even so did Athene haste down to the earth from Olympus.