THE SCENE: Menelaus (aka Atrides) relished the opportunity to kill Paris – the man who had stolen his wife away – in single combat. But even a simple one-on-one fight becomes complicated when the gods themselves are invested in the outcome.
THE TEXT: Both men armed at opposing sides of the forces, into the no man’s land between the lines they strode, glances menacing, wild excitement seizing all who watched, the stallion-breaking Trojans and Argive men-at-arms. Striking a stand in the dueling-ground just cleared they brandished spears at each other, tense with fury. Suddenly Paris hurled – his spear’s long shadow flew and the shaft hit Menelaus’ round shield, full center – not pounding through, the brazen point bent back in the tough armor.
But his turn next – Menelaus reared with a bronze lance and a prayer to father Zeus: “Zeus, King, give me revenge, he wronged me first! Illustrious Paris – crush him under my hand! So even among the men to come a man may shrink from wounding the host who showers him with kindness.”
Shaking his spear, he hurled and its long shadow flew and the shaft his Paris’ round shield, hit full center – straight through the gleaming hide the heavy weapon drove, ripping down and in through the breastplate finely worked, tearing the war-shirt, close by Paris’ flank it jabbed but the Trojan swerved aside and dodged black death. So now Menelaus drew his sword with silver studs and hoisting the weapon high, brought it crashing down on the helmet ridge but the blade smashed where it struck – jagged shatters flying – it dropped from Atrides’ hand and the hero cried out, scanning the blank skies, “Father Zeus – no god’s more deadly than you! Here I though I’d punish Paris for all his outrage – now my sword is shattered, right in my hands, look, my spear flew from my grip for nothing – I never hit him.”
Lunging at Paris, he grabbed his horsehair crest, swung him round, started to drag him into Argive lines and now the braided chin-strap holding his helmet tight was gouging his soft throat – Paris was choking, strangling. Now he’s have hauled him off and won undying glory but Aphrodite, Zeus’ daughter quick to the mark, snapped the rawhide strap, cut from a bludgeoned ox, and the helmet came off empty in Menelaus’ fist. Whirling it round the fighter sent it flying into his Argives scrambling fast to retrieve it – back at his man he sprang, enraged with brazen spear, mad for the kill but Aphrodite snatched Paris away, easy work for a god, wrapped him in swirls of mist and set him down in his bedroom filled with scent.
– The Iliad, Homer, 8th Century BC
