But Hector shook his head, his helmet flashing: "Don't offer me mellow wine, mother, not now-- you'd sap my limbs, I'd lose my nerve for war. And I'd be ashamed to pour a glistening cup to Zeus with unwashed hands. I'm splattered with blood and filth-- how could I pray to the lord of storm and lightning? No, mother, you are the one to pray. Go to Athena's shrine, the queen of plunder, go with offerings, gather the older noble women and take a robe, the largest, loveliest robe that you can find throughout the royal halls, a gift that far and away you prize most yourself, and spread it out across the sleek-haired goddess' knees. Then promise to sacrifice twelve heifers in her shrine, yearlings never broken, if only she'll pity Troy, the Trojan wives and all our helpless children, if only she'll hold Diomedes back from the holy city- that wild spearman, that invincible headlong terror! Now, mother, go to the queen of plunder's shrine and I'll go hunt for Paris, summon him to fight if the man will hear what I have to say . . . Let the earth gape and swallow him on the spot! A great curse Olympian Zeus let live and grow in him, for Troy and high-hearted Priam and all his sons. That man--if I could see him bound for the House of Death, I could say my heart had forgot its wrenching grief!" But his mother simply turned away to the palace. She gave her servants orders and out they strode to gather the older noble women through the city. Hecuba went down to a storeroom filled with scent and there they were, brocaded, beautiful robes . . . the work of Sidonian women. Magnificent Paris brought those women back himself from Sidon, sailing the open seas on the same long voyage he swept Helen off, her famous Father's child. Lifting one from the lot, Hecuba brought it out for great Athena's gift, the largest, loveliest, richly worked, and like a star it glistened, deep beneath the others. Then she made her way with a file of noble women rushing in her train. Once they reached Athena's shrine on the city crest the beauty Theano opened the doors to let them in, Cisseus' daughter, the horseman Antenor's wife and Athena's priestess chosen by the Trojans. Then-- with a shrill wail they all stretched their arms to Athena as Theano, her face radiant, lifting the robe on high, spread it out across the sleek-haired goddess' knees and prayed to the daughter of mighty Father Zeus: "Queen Athena--shield of our city--glory of goddesses! Now shatter the spear of Diomedes! That wild man-- hurl him headlong down before the Scaean Gates! At once we'll sacrifice twelve heifers in your shrine, yearlings never broken, if only you'll pity Troy, the Trojan wives and all our helpless children!"
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