THE COUNCIL That night both gods and men slept long; only Zeus, king of the gods, lay wakeful, pondering in his heart how best he might do honour to Achilles. ‘I shall send a Dream to beguile Agamemnon,’ at length he resolved. Then did he call to a Dream, for by Dreams the gods sent their messages to mortal men. ‘Go now, thou evil Dream,’ said Zeus, ‘go to where Agamemnon sleeps in his tent near to his fleet ships, and tell him every word as I shall tell it thee. Bid him call to arms with speed his warriors, for now he shall take the strong city of Troy.’ To the tent of Agamemnon sped the Dream. Taking the form of the old warrior who had striven to make peace between Agamemnon and Achilles, the Dream stooped over the sleeping warrior, and thus to him it spoke: ‘Sleepest thou, Agamemnon? Ill fits it for the overlord of so mighty a host to sleep all through the night. From Zeus I come, and to thee he sends this message: Call to arms with speed thy warriors, Agamemnon, for now shalt thou take the strong city of Troy.’ Off then sped the Dream, winging its way like a strip of grey mist aloft to Mount Olympus. Then Agamemnon awoke from sleep, and the voice of the Dream still rang in his ears. Speedily he arose from his bed, donned his fair tunic, cast around him his great cloak, and bound his sandals on his feet. Then over his shoulder he cast his silver-studded sword, and with the sceptre of his house, token of his overlordship, in his hand, he went down to where the Greek ships lay, and called a council together. To his lords he told what had befallen him as they slept. ‘Call to arms!’ had been the message from Zeus. ‘Call to arms! for victory shall be thine.’ Then said the old warrior in whose likeness the Dream had come: ‘My friends, had any other told us this dream we might deem it false; but to our overlord the Dream hath come. Let us then call our men to arms.’ So did all the lords follow his counsel, and quickly did the Greeks obey their summons. Like bees that pour from out their nests in some hollow rock, and fly to where the spring flowers grow most sweet, even so did the warriors pour forth from their ships and their huts by the sea. Loudly they shouted as they came, till all the earth echoed. Nine heralds sought to quiet them, but it was long before they would cease their noise, and sit silent to listen to the voice of Agamemnon their lord. Then did Agamemnon prove his people. ‘Ill hath Zeus dealt with us, my friends,’ he said. ‘To us he promised ere we sailed hither that victory should be ours. But nine years have passed away, and our ships’ timbers have rotted, and the rigging is worn. In our halls our wives and children still sit awaiting us, yet are we no nearer victory than we were on the day that we came hither. Come then, let us flee with our ships to our dear native land, for never shall Troy be ours.’ So spake Agamemnon, and stirred the hearts of all that had not heard his secret council.