"It is time to make an end, Rei, for soon will Meriamun be seeking
us, and methinks that I have left a trail that she can follow," and he
nodded at the piled-up dead that stretched further than the eye could
reach.
Now they were come over against that spot in the wall where stood the
aged Captain of the Achaeans, who had likened the armour of the Wanderer
to the armour of Paris, and the beauty of her at his side to the beauty
of Argive Helen.
The Captain loosed his bow at the chariot, and leaning forward watched
the flight of the shaft. It rushed straight at Helen's breast, then of a
sudden turned aside, harming her not. And as he marvelled she lifted
her face and looked towards him. Then he saw and knew her for that Helen
whom he had seen while he served with Cretan Idomeneus in the Argive
ships, when the leaguer was done and the smoke went up from burning
Ilios.
Again he looked, and lo! on the Wanderer's golden shield he saw the
White Bull, the device of Paris, son of Priam, as ofttimes he had seen
it glitter on the walls of Troy. Then great fear took him, and he lifted
up his hands and cried aloud:
"Fly, ye Achaeans! Fly! Back to your curved ships and away from this
accursed land. For yonder in the chariot stands Argive Helen, who is
long dead, and with her Paris, son of Priam, come to wreak the woes
of Ilios on the sons of those who wasted her.
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