"Well, something is going on down there," Helen said. "Look, there is Agamemnon - with Menelaus tagging behind him as usual - and his herald."

Kassandra had seen the herald before; a tall young man who was perhaps too slightly built to be of much use with sword or shield, but who had a splendid bass voice which he could make ring throughout the entire camp. Waste of a fine musician, Khryse had once said and indeed he would have made a splendid minstrel or singer.

Now Agamemnon was giving him orders, and the herald was striding clear across the camp and - yes - toward the foot of the wall. Paris took his tall loop-shaped shield, settled his helmet down on his head, and went out on the wall. The herald shouted:

Paris, son of Priam!

"That is I," Paris said, his voice sounding small and young after the herald's trained and resonant tones. "What do you want with me? And if Agamemnon has a message for me, why does he not come within range of the walls himself, instead of - like a coward - sending you, whom I may not lawfully shoot?"

He went on, laughing, "When will they declare an open hunting season on heralds? I think they should all be exterminated, like Kentaurs."

"Paris, son of Priam, I bear a message for you from Menelaus of Sparta, brother of Agamemnon, Overlord of Mykenae—"

"I know perfectly well who Menelaus is," Paris interrupted him. "You don't need to explain, nor rehash all our grudges against one another."

"Oh, let the poor man give his message, Paris," Helen said audibly. "You're making the poor child nervous. He wants at least to sound like a warrior if he can't fight like one. He might wet his tunic if you go on, and think how embarrassed he'd be before all these women."

"Well, if you have a message from Menelaus go on and give it," Paris said. The herald, blushing, visibly pulled himself together and straightened.

"Hear the words of Menelaus, Lord of Sparta: Paris, son of Priam, my quarrel is with you, not with Priam or with the great city of Troy. I now propose that we settle this war in a single combat challenge before all the assembled soldiers of Troy and the Akhaians. And that if you kill me or I surrender, then you-shall keep Helen and such goods of mine as you may have, and my men, including my brother Agamemnon, will be pledged not to fight further, not even to avenge me, but to take their ships and sail away from Troy forever, and this war be at an end. But if I kill you or you surrender, then Helen shall be turned over to me, with her goods and gear, and we will take her home without asking any of the spoils of Troy other than this. How do you say? What is your answer?"

Paris stood at his full height and said, "Say to Menelaus that I have heard his offer; and I will consult with King Priam and with Hector, the leader of the Trojan armies. For it seems to me that there are many causes in this war other than Helen; but if my father and my brother wish to settle it this way, then I am agreeable."

There was a rousing cheer from both sides as Paris dropped down out of sight and came back into the little corner of the wall where the women had been watching. Helen stood up without words and kissed him.

Paris said, "Whew! What was the point of that? Menelaus knows as well as I do that there's more to this war than Helen. How did Agamemnon manage to entice him into the agreement? Or is it a trick to get me out from behind the wall?"

"I would credit Menelaus with the spite to do it," Helen said, "but not with the wit to think of it."

"Well, how do you think Priam would have me answer?" Paris asked. "Or Hector? Hector would probably welcome this chance to have me out of the way so he can run the war as he pleases."

"You wrong your brother, my boy," Hecuba said.

"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.