"May you always think so, Mother," Paris replied, "and may I always be at hand to argue the point."
"The heart of the matter is that you can't fight Menelaus," said Kassandra.
"Why not? Do you think I am afraid of him?" Paris argued.
"If you are not, you are a greater fool than I ever thought you were," Andromache said.
"But Hector will so welcome a chance to settle this war with single combat," Kassandra said,"that he will probably have Paris accept - but only on the condition that he should challenge Agamemnon instead."
"Well, he might offer to fight Menelaus in my place," Paris said. "I'll lend him my cloak, and all the armies are welcome to think it is me."
"Whatever Hector will think, you may ask him yourself, for here he comes," Andromache said.
Hector and his warriors were coming through the streets of Troy towards the gate. About a hundred and fifty armored soldiers and others dragged his chariot down the steep streets, to harness it at the gates so that Hector might mount it and ride out. He saw Paris and the women from a distance on the wall and came up to speak with them.
"What's happened? I heard some yelling in the streets—"
Hecuba told him quickly about Menelaus's challenge, and Hector frowned.
"It's probably the best we can do with Akhilles out of the picture," he said. "Are you going to fight him, Paris?"
"I'd rather not," Paris said. "I don't trust him to meet me in single combat; I think it's more likely that he's trying to lure me out to have me shot down by a dozen archers, or ambushed."
Hector scowled.
"Damn you, Paris, I never know whether you're talking cowardice, or plain common sense."
"I don't think there's that much difference," said Paris. "I take it that means you want me to get out there and fight him."
"Is there any question about that?" Kassandra could tell from Hector's expression that he could not imagine why Paris was not already eagerly strapping on his weapons.
"Well, yes," Paris said. "If I kill him, they'll all go away and you'll never have a chance at Agamemnon or Akhilles. That would spoil your fun, wouldn't it?"
"And if he kills you?"
"I was trying not to think about that," Paris said. "I doubt that would particularly spoil your fun, but they'd certainly gloat over you while they carried off Helen and anything else they happened to fancy in Troy. And, as I say, it might not be the kind of fair fight you'd feel honor bound to give Akhilles if he challenged you."
"Helen," Hector asked, "you know Menelaus better than any of us; is he likely to abide by his word?"
She shrugged. "I would think so; I doubt he could think up a trap. Of course I have no idea what Agamemnon may have thought up; that's another matter entirely."
"Well, Paris, it's for you to choose," Hector said. "I can't force you to fight him; on the other hand, I don't want to be responsible for refusing the challenge."
Paris looked down to where Menelaus in his crimson cloak was still pacing up and down before the wall. He said, "Helen, what do you want me to do? Shall I fight him for you?"
"Hector will give you no peace unless you do," she said shrewdly. "So I think you had better. But we must manage a way of escape for you; perhaps we can persuade some Immortal to intervene."
"How will you do that?" he asked.
"You had better not know," she said, "but I do not think that the Goddess of Love and Beauty brought me here to be dragged home in disgrace at the tail of Agamemnon's cart. But as you fight keep watch, and one way or another we will get a rope ladder over the wall. If the Goddess gives you a moment to get to it - well, do not let the opportunity pass unless Menelaus is already dead at your feet."
Paris shrugged, went to the wall and shouted down to Menelaus that he would meet him in an hour, if he wished.
Then he put on his armor and went down to the field with Hector. When they saw him on the chariot, the Akhaians broke out into a cry.
"What are you going to do?" Kassandra asked, approaching Helen. Helen held out her hands and grasped Kassandra's in hers.
"You are his twin sister and a priestess," she said. "Now join me in chanting and praying that the Sea-born may send us one of her sea-fogs. Hecuba, I beg you, if you love your son, send for a strong rope ladder; we cannot ask the Goddess to do for us what any rope-maker could do for a copper coin."
She dispatched a messenger for a rope ladder, and when it came, Helen went and stood with Kassandra at the very edge of the wall, watching Paris and Menelaus arming themselves while their heralds exchanged insults.
Menelaus and Paris paced carefully round, marking off the circle into which no other fighter on either side might approach while either of them lived. That done, they bowed ceremoniously to one another; a trumpet sounded, and they began to fight.
"Chant!" Helen urged. Tray! Beseech the Goddess to send us her sea-fog!"
The women began chanting; Kassandra was so busy watching the men swing their swords that she could hardly form the words of the prayer, though this was simple magic enough. At first the men seemed evenly matched enough, though Paris was taller and had a longer reach; and it seemed to her that Menelaus was overly fat; but for all that he was as quick as a mongoose. They circled each other exchanging blows, carefully taking one another's measure but not yet seriously joined in battle.
Kassandra's eyes ached. Was it dust in the battle square before them? Or was it actually a swirl of sea-fog drifting up from the shore? She could not be sure. Helen stepped to the edge of the wall and let the rope ladder down; she had hooked it for security around the edge of the wall's stones. Then she rose to her full height and called aloud:
"Menelaus!"
He turned his eyes upward briefly and stopped in mid-stroke. Helen slowly unfastened the neck of her garment and let it drop till her breasts were bare.
As she stood without moving, it seemed to Kassandra that the air was filled with faint glowing golden sparkles, as if the veil between the worlds grew thinner. Helen, touched with that golden shimmer, seemed to gain height and majesty and to glow from within with beauty beyond anything human. It was no woman but the Goddess herself standing on the wall.
As for Menelaus, he stood as if his feet had taken root in the earth beneath them.
Not so Paris. As his eyes fell upon Helen standing there in the form of the Goddess, he broke away, sprinting for the foot of the wall. From the ranks of the Akhaians came a great cry of awe and longing; then Paris was atop the wall and pulling up the ladder; with everyone's eyes on Helen - or rather on the Goddess - Kassandra realized that probably no one had seen him climb the ladder at all. He bundled it up and tossed it down inside.
Helen still stood unmoving, her body glowing with light. Then in the flicker of an eyelash the illusion - if it had been illusion - was gone, and it was only Helen who stood there, her face a little sunburnt, fastening up her dress. She came to Paris and said, "You are wounded."
"Nothing serious, Lady," he said, his eyes still wide; but the stripe of red just outside the edge of his leather armor was dripping now.
She said, "Come along; I'll care for it," and led him away.
There were shouts from the Akhaians now.
"Paris! Where did he go? Coward—!"
But through and beyond it all there were cries of, "The Goddess! She appeared before us on the wall! The Beautiful One, the Sea-born!"
Hector's chariot rumbled back through the gate and the next minute he was striding up the stairs built into the wall. He looked round and demanded, "Where is he, then?"