The old man, noticing Odysseus next, said: ‘Tell me now, dear child, who that man is. He is shorter than King Agamemnon by a head, but broader in the shoulders and the chest. He has left his armour lying on the ground, and there he goes, like a bellwether, inspecting the ranks. He reminds me of a fleecy ram bringing a great flock of white sheep to heel.’

‘That,’ said Helen, child of Zeus, ‘is Laertes’ son, Odysseus of the nimble wits. Ithaca, where he was brought up, is a poor and rocky land; but he is a master of intrigue and stratagem.’

The wise Antenor added something to Helen’s picture of Odysseus. ‘Madam,’ he said, ‘I can endorse what you say, for Odysseus has been here. He came with Menelaus on an embassy in your behalf, and I was their host. I entertained them in my own house, and I know not only what they look like but the way they think. In conference with the Trojans, when all were standing, Menelaus with his broad shoulders overtopped the whole company; but Odysseus was the more imposing of the two when both were seated. When their turn came to express their views in public, Menelaus spoke fluently, not at great length, but very clearly, being a man of few words who kept to the point, though he was the younger of the two. By contrast, when the nimble-witted Odysseus took the floor, he stood there with his head bent firmly down, glancing from under his brows, and he did not swing his staff either to the front or back, but held it stiffly, as though he had never handled one before. You would have taken him for a sulky fellow and no better than a fool. But when that great voice of his came booming from his chest, and the words poured from his lips like flakes of winter snow, there was no man alive who could compete with Odysseus. When we looked at him then, we were no longer misled by appearances.’

Aias was the third man whom the old king noticed and enquired about. ‘Who is that other fine and upstanding Achaean,’ he asked, ‘taller than all the rest by a head and shoulders?’