Then the old man was sore troubled, and his hair stood up with fear. But Mercury came near and took him by the hand and said—“Whither goest thou, old man, with thy horses and mules through the darkness? Hast thou no fear of these fierce Greeks, who are close at hand? If any one should see thee with all this wealth, what then? And thou art not young, nor is thy attendant young, that ye should defend yourselves against an enemy. But I will not harm thee, nor suffer any other, for thou art like my own dear father.” “It is well, my son,” said the old man. “Surely one of the blessed gods is with me, in causing me to meet such an one as thou, so fair and so wise. Happy the parents of such a son!” And Mercury said, “Come, tell me true, old man. Are you sending away all these treasures that they may be kept safe for you far away? Or are all the men of Troy leaving the city, seeing now that Hector, who was their bravest warrior, is dead?” Then Priam answered, “Who art thou, my son, and what thy race, that thou speakest so truly about my hapless son?” “Often,” said Mercury, “have I seen Hector in the battle, both at other times, and when he drove the Greeks before him at the ships. We, indeed, stood and watched and marvelled at him, for Achilles would not suffer us to fight, being angry with King Agamemnon. Now, I am a follower of Achilles, coming from Greece in the same ship with him. One of the Myrmidons I am, son of Polyctor, an old man such as thou art. Six other sons he has, and when we drew lots who should come to the war, it fell to me. But know that with the morning the Greeks will set their battle in array against the city, for they are weary of their sojourn, and the kings cannot keep them back.” Then said Priam, “If they art an attendant of Achilles, tell me true, is my son yet by the ships, or have the dogs devoured him?” And Mercury answered, “Nor dogs nor vultures have devoured him. Still he lies by the ships of Achilles; and though this is the twelfth day since he was slain, no decay has touched him. Nay, though Achilles drags him round the tomb of his dear Patroclus, yet even so does no unseemliness come to him. All fresh he lies, and the blood is washed from him, and all his wounds are closed—and many spear-points pierced him. The blessed gods love him well, dead man though he be.” This King Priam was well pleased to hear. “It is well,” he said, “for a man to honor the gods; for indeed, as my son never forgot the dwellers on Olympus, so have they not forgotten him, even in death. But do thou take this fair cup and do kindness to him, and lead me to the tent of Achilles.” “Nay,” answered Mercury, “thou speakest this in vain. No gift would I take from thy hand unknown to Achilles; for I honor him much, and fear to rob him, lest some evil happen to me afterwards. But thee I will guide to Argos itself, if thou wilt, whether by land or sea, and no one shall blame my guiding.”