The Contest of the Archers

“Now, gallant archers, try your skill,” said Æneas, pointing to a tall mast, which had been set up in the middle of the plain, with a dove fluttering above it fastened by the leg with a slender cord. Lots were drawn to determine the order of shooting, and the archers, among whom were Mnestheus, winner of the third prize in the boat race, Eurytion, brother of the famous Pandarus, and the aged Acestes, took up their stations. The first arrow struck the mast. Then Mnestheus, who had drawn the second place, took steady aim, but, missing the bird, chanced to sever the cord which bound her to the mast; up flew the dove, and remained hovering in the air above their heads. Eurytion now raised his bow high above his head, and, calling on his brother’s name, sent an arrow straight into the air, and brought down the bird, just as she was preparing for a distant flight. “You have left me no mark to aim at,” said Acestes; “but see, there is vigor left still in these old arms of mine.” And he drew his arrow to the head, and sent an arrow whizzing towards the cloud. Then followed a strange portent, which kept all the prophets busy for many a day; for as they watched the flying shaft, it burst into flames, and, shooting across the sky with a trail of light, burnt away, and vanished from view like a meteor in the nights of winter. “Hail, fiery messenger of Heaven’s will!” cried Acestes joyfully. “And hail to thee, father and friend!” repeated Æneas, grasping his hand. “Thine was the best shot of all, and I will bestow on thee a gift of honor, since by thy hand was wrought this wonder, and Jove himself has blessed thine archery.” And he gave him a silver goblet, embossed with choice designs, which was a treasured heirloom in his family. The great multitude now stood hushed in expectation, for the most brilliant event of the day was reserved to the last. As soon as the arena was cleared Æneas gave a sign to Epytides, the faithful guardian and companion of the young Iulus; and presently a murmur arose on the outskirts of the crowd, swelling to a great shout, as a troop of youthful horsemen rode into the arena in three divisions. In each division were twelve boys, all armed with javelins, all crowned with olive wreaths, and all wearing chains of gold. At the head of each band rode its boyish captain. First was seen the son of Polites, named after his grandsire Priam, mounted on a brave chestnut with white markings on forehead and fore-hoof; then followed the second line, led by Atys, whose name descended to a noble Roman house—little Atys, loved in his boyhood by the young Iulus; and last and fairest of all came Iulus himself, riding a gallant steed of Arab race, which he had received as a gift from the fair hand of Dido. Loud was the applause among the Trojans as they watched that pretty pageant of childish chivalry and traced their fathers’ likeness on the blushing faces of the happy boys. Having ridden slowly round the arena they drew up in a body, facing the spot where Æneas and the Trojan nobles were seated round their host. Then Eyptides gave the signal with a loud crack of his whip, and, parting again into three separate troops, they couched their weapons, and made a mimic charge, but, avoiding the shock at the moment of meeting, rank passed through rank, wheeled again, and returned to the encounter. And so they threaded all the mazes of a warlike dance, in which attack and retreat, rally, and hand-to-hand assault, were pictured in living colors on the level green.