At this gate, Priam was sitting in conference with the Elders of the city, Panthous and Thymoetes, Lampus and Clytius, Hicetaon, offshoot of the War-god, and his two wise counsellors, Ucalegon and Antenor. Old age had brought their fighting days to an end, but they were excellent speakers, these Trojan Elders, sitting there on the tower, like cicadas perched on a tree in the woods chirping delightfully. When they saw Helen coming to the tower, they lowered their voices. ‘Who on earth,’ they asked one another, ‘could blame the Trojan and Achaean men-at-arms for suffering so long for such a woman’s sake? Indeed, she is the very image of an immortal goddess. All the same, and lovely as she is, let her sail home and not stay here to vex us and our children after us.’

Meanwhile, Priam had called Helen to his side. ‘Dear child,’ he said, ‘come here and sit in front of me, so that you may see your former husband and your relatives and friends. I bear you no ill will at all: I blame the gods. It is they who brought this terrible Achaean war upon me. And now you can tell me the name of that giant over there. Who is that tall and handsome Achaean? There are others taller by a head, but I have never set eyes on a man with such good looks or with such majesty. He is every inch a king.’

‘I pay you homage and reverence, my dear father-in-law,’ replied the gracious lady Helen. ‘I wish I had chosen to die in misery before I came here with your son, deserting my bridal chamber, my kinsfolk, my darling daughter and the dear friends with whom I had grown up. But things did not fall out like that, to my unending sorrow. However, I must tell you what you wished to know. The man you pointed out is imperial Agamemnon son of Atreus, a good king and a mighty spearman too. He was my brother-in-law once, shameless creature that I am – unless all that was a dream.’

When he heard this the old man gazed at Agamemnon with envious admiration. ‘Ah, lucky son of Atreus,’ he exclaimed, ‘child of fortune, blessed by the gods! So you are the man whom all these thousands of Achaeans serve! I went to Phrygia once, the land of vines and galloping horses, and learnt how numerous the Phrygians are when I saw the armies of Otreus and King Mygdon encamped by the River Sangarius. I was their ally and I bivouacked with them that time the Amazons, who fight like men, came up to the attack. But even they were not as many as these Achaeans with their flashing eyes.’