that she let the dead boy
fall.

The Wanderer saw it and wondered at the horror of the deed, for he had
seen no such deed in all his days. Then shouting aloud the terrible
war-cry of the Achaeans he leapt upon the board before him, and as he
leapt his golden armour clanged.

Glancing around, he fixed an arrow to the string and drew to his ear
that great bow which none but he might so much as bend. Then as he
loosed, the string sang like a swallow, and the shaft screamed through
the air. Down the glorious hall it sped, and full on the breast of him
who had lifted bow against the Queen the bitter arrow struck, nor might
his harness avail to stay it. Through the body of him it passed and with
blood-red feathers flew on, and smote another who stood behind him so
that his knees also were loosened, and together they fell dead upon the
floor.

Now while the people stared and wondered, again the bowstring sang like
a swallow, again the arrow screamed in its flight, and he who stood
before it got his death, for the shield he bore was pinned to his
breast.

Then wonder turned to rage; the multitude rolled forward, and from
either side the air grew dark with arrows. For the Guards at the
sight of the shooting of the Wanderer found heart and fought well and
manfully. Boldly also the slayers came on, and behind them pressed many
a hundred men. The Wanderer's golden helm flashed steadily, a beacon in
the storm. Black smoke burst out in the hall, the hangings flamed and
tossed in a wind from the open door. The lights were struck from the
hands of the golden images, arrows stood thick in the tables and the
rafters, a spear pierced through the golden cup of Pasht. But out of
the darkness and smoke and dust, and the cry of battle, and through the
rushing of the rain of spears, sang the swallow string of the black bow
of Eurytus, and the long shafts shrieked as they sped on them who were
ripe to die. In vain did the arrows of the slayers smite upon that
golden harness. They were but as hail upon the temple roofs, but as
driving snow upon the wild stag's horns. They struck, they rattled, and
down they dropped like snow, or bounded back and lay upon the board.

The swallow string sang, the black bow twanged, and the bitter arrows
shrieked as they flew.

Now the Wanderer's shafts were spent, and he judged that their case was
desperate. For out of the doors of the hall that were behind them, and
from the chambers of the women, armed