"
Now the Wanderer glanced from his chariot and saw the crests of the
Achaeans and the devices on the shields of men with whose fathers he
had fought beneath the walls of Ilios. He saw and his heart was stirred
within him, so that he wept there in the chariot.
"Alas! for the fate that is on me," he cried, "that I must make my
last battle in the service of a stranger against my own people and the
children of my own dear friends."
"Weep not, Odysseus," said Helen, "for Fate drives thee on--Fate that is
cruel and changeless, and heeds not the loves or hates of men. Weep
not, Odysseys, but go on up against the Achaeans, for from among them thy
death comes."
So the Wanderer went on, sick at heart, shooting no shafts and striking
no blow, and after him came the remnant of the host of Pharaoh. Then
he halted the host, and at his bidding Rei drove slowly down the wall
seeking a place to storm it, and as he drove they shot at the chariot
from the wall with spears and slings and arrows. But not yet was the
Wanderer doomed. He took no hurt, nor did any hurt come to Rei nor to
the horses that drew the chariot, and as for Helen, the shafts of
Death knew her and turned aside. Now while they drove thus Rei told
the Wanderer of the death of Pharaoh, of the burning of the Temple of
Hathor, and of the flight of Helen. The Wanderer hearkened and said but
one thing, for in all this he saw the hand of Fate.
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