At that moment there was an outcry, as some herdsmen brought before the chiefs a miserable, sullen-looking man whose hands were bound behind his back. He seemed to be the sole survivor of the Grecian army. With the assurance that his life would be spared if he spoke the truth, he tremblingly told them of his sufferings; that he was Sinon, a Greek, who, because of some grudge of Ulysses had been condemned to die as a sacrifice to the gods, of his escape and of his having hidden all night in a weedy lake and until his people were well at sea. All hearts warmed to him. The king ordered his hands unbound and bade him forget the Greeks and “be one of us.” “But tell me,” said the king, “why did you build this great horse?” The treacherous Sinon replied, “That is an offering to Minerva and made so huge to prevent its being carried into the city, for Calchas, the prophet, told us that if the Trojans took possession of it they would surely triumph over the Greeks.” Hearing this, the people were overjoyed, and, in spite of Laocoön’s pleading, began to plan how they might drag the horse into the city. Suddenly a shudder went through the crowd. Out from the surf tumbling along the beach, appeared two immense serpents; breast to breast, on they came, with heads reared high, hissing jaws and blazing blood-red eyes. Many fled in terror. Some were transfixed and stood with haggard faces as the great creatures swept up to Laocoön and his two young sons, enfolded them in their hideous coils, crushed them to earth, devoured them, then glided on to the citadel of Minerva and slipped beneath the feet of the goddess. Here was their omen! “The priest Laocoön has been judged according to his deeds!” they said, “for he cast his spear against this holy thing, and now the gods have slain him!” They at once began making a great opening in the wall. Hoisting levers were adjusted, wheels fastened to the great feet, and after wreathing the horse with green branches and flowers they began tugging and pushing it over the plain and into the city.