When they reached the assembled armies, they stepped down from their chariot onto the bountiful earth and walked to a spot midway between the Trojans and Achaeans. King Agamemnon and the resourceful Odysseus rose at once; and stately heralds brought the victims for the sacrifice together, mixed wine in the bowl, and poured some water on the kings’ hands. Then Agamemnon drew the knife that he always carried beside the great scabbard of his sword, and cut some hair from the lambs’ heads. The hair was distributed among the Trojan and Achaean captains by the heralds. And now Agamemnon lifted up his hands and prayed aloud in the hearing of all: ‘Father Zeus, you that rule from Mount Ida, most glorious and great; and you, the Sun, whose eye and ear miss nothing in the world; you Rivers and you Earth; you Powers of the world below that make the souls of dead men pay for perjury; I call on you all to witness our oaths and to see that they are kept. If Paris kills Menelaus, let him keep Helen and her wealth, and we shall sail away in our seagoing ships. But if red-haired Menelaus kills Paris, the Trojans must surrender Helen and all her possessions, and compensate the Argives suitably, on a scale that future generations shall remember. And if, in the event of Paris’ death, Priam and his sons refuse to pay, I shall stay here and fight for the indemnity until the war is finished.’

Agamemnon now slit the lambs’ throats with the relentless bronze and dropped them gasping on the ground, where the life-force ebbed and left them, for the knife had done its work. Then they drew wine from the bowl in cups, and as they poured it on the ground they made their petitions to the gods that have been since time began. The watching Trojans and Achaeans prayed as well – the same prayer served them both. ‘Zeus, most glorious and great, and you other immortal gods; may the brains of whichever party breaks this treaty be poured out on the ground as that wine is poured, and not only theirs but their children’s too; and may foreigners possess their wives.’ Such were their hopes of peace, but Zeus had no intention yet of bringing peace about.

Dardanian Priam now made himself heard. ‘Trojans and Achaean men-at-arms,’ he said, ‘attend to me. I am going back to windy Ilium, since I cannot bear to look on while my own son fights the formidable Menelaus. All I can think is that Zeus and the other immortal gods must know already which of the two is going to his doom.’

With these words, the venerable king put the lambs in the car and himself mounted and drew back the reins. Antenor took his place beside him in the splendid chariot, and the two drove off on their way back to Ilium.