Then the multitude of the barbarians that stood gazing at the fray drew
yet further back in fear, and the Wanderer laughed like a God at
that old score paid, and at the last great stroke of the hands of the
City-sacker, Odysseus.

VIII

"TILL ODYSSEUS COMES!"

The Wanderer laughed like a God, though he deemed that the end was near,
and the foes within the camp and the friends without looked on him and
wondered.

"Slay him!" cried the foes within, speaking in many tongues. "Slay him!"
they cried, and yet they feared the task, but circled round like hounds
about a mighty boar at bay.

"Spare him!" shouted the host of the Achaeans, watching the fray from
far, as they stood behind their inner wall, for as yet they had not
mingled in the battle but stayed by their ships to guard them.

"Rescue!" cried the Captains of Pharaoh without, but none came on to
force the way.

Then of a sudden, as Fate hung upon the turn, a great cry of fear and
wonder rose from the ranks of Pharaoh's host beyond the wall. It swelled
and swelled till at length the cry took the sound of a name--the sound
of the name of _Hathor_.

"The Hathor! the Hathor! See, the Hathor comes!"

The Wanderer turned his head and looked swiftly. A golden chariot sped
down the slope of sand towards the gate of the camp. The milk-white
horses were stained with sweat and splashed with blood. They thundered
on towards the gate down the way that was red with blood, as the horses
of the dawn rush through the blood-red sky. A little man, withered and
old, drove the chariot, leaning forward as he drove, and by his side
stood the Golden Helen. The Red Star blazed upon her breast, her hair
and filmy robes floated on the wind.

She looked up and forth. Now she saw him, Odysseus of Ithaca, her love,
alone, beset with foes, and a cry broke from her. She tore away the veil
that hid her face, and her beauty flashed out upon the sight of men as
the moon flashes from the evening mists. She pointed to the gate, she
stretched out her arms towards the host of Pharaoh, bidding them look
upon her and follow her. Then a shout went up from the host, and they
rushed onwards in the path of the chariot, for where the Helen leads
there men must follow through Life to Death through War to Peace.

On the chariot rushed to the camp, and after it the host of Pharaoh
followed. The holders of the gate saw the beauty of her who rode in the
chariot; they cried aloud in many tongues that