Authors: Virgil
After the boat race, dutiful Aeneas strode to a piece of grassy
level ground. All around it stood wooded hills and in the middle
of the valley there was a circle for a theatre. When he reached
290 this place – and many thousands went with him – Aeneas sat
down on a raised platform in the middle of the concourse. Here
he offered prizes for any men who might wish to take part in a
foot race, whetting their ambition with rewards, and Trojans
and Sicanians flocked in from all sides. Nisus and Euryalus were
first, Euryalus standing out for the bloom of his youthful beauty
and Nisus for the loving care he showed to him. Then came
Diores, a prince of the noble line of Priam, and after him Salius
and Patron together, one an Acarnanian, the other an Arcadian
300 of Tegean stock. Then came two young Sicilians, Helymus and
Panopes, men of the woods, attendants of old Acestes, and many
more whose names are buried in oblivion. When they had
gathered, Aeneas spoke in the middle of them: ‘Give your minds
to what I have to say. Mark it well and be of good cheer. No
man of you will leave without winning a prize from my hand.
Two Cretan arrows I shall give, their steel tips burnished and
gleaming, and a two-headed axe embossed with silver. These
rewards will be the same for all of you, but there will be other
prizes for the first three in the race and crowns woven of golden
310 olive for their heads. The winner will have a horse with splendid
trappings, the second an Amazonian quiver full of Thracian
arrows, slung on a belt with a broad gold band and the clasp
that fastens it is a polished jewel. The third can leave the field
content with an Argive helmet.’
When he had finished speaking, they took their places, the
signal sounded and they were off, streaming away from the
starting-point in one great cloud. But as soon as they came in
sight of the finish, Nisus shot out a long way in front of all of
them, swifter than the wind and the wings of the lightning.
320 Second, but a long way behind, was Salius. Then, after a gap,
came Euryalus in third place. Behind him was Helymus, then,
immediately behind him and hard on his heels, was Diores
leaning over his shoulder, and if there had been more course to
run, he would have overtaken and passed him or they would
have run a dead heat.
They were soon almost at the end of the course and tiring as
they came up to the line, when the unlucky Nisus slid and fell
330 on a slippery patch of blood that had been spilt where they had
killed bullocks and wet the earth and the green grass that grew
upon it. Here, as he pounded the track exulting in the very
moment of victory, he lost his footing and fell on his face in the
filthy dung and blood from the sacrifice. But he was not the man
to forget Euryalus and the love he bore him. He rose from the
slime and threw himself in the path of Salius and knocked him
head over heels, sprawling on the hard-packed sand. Euryalus
flashed past. Thanks to his friend he was in the lead and speeding
along to loud applause and cheers, Helymus behind him with
340 Diores now winning the third prize. But Salius stood up before
the faces of the fathers in the front rows and filled the whole
bowl of the huge assembly with loud clamour, demanding the
honour of which he had been cheated. On the side of Euryalus
were the favour in which he was held, his beauty as he stood
there weeping and the manly spirit growing in that lovely body.
On his side too was Diores, protesting at the top of his voice.
He had come in third but there would be no third prize for him
if the first were to be given to Salius. Father Aeneas then spoke:
‘You young men will all keep your prizes. The awards have been
350 made and no one changes that. Let it be my task to offer
consolation to our friend for the downfall he did nothing to
deserve.’ With these words he gave Salius the hide of a huge
Gaetulian lion, weighed down with gilded claws and mane. This
was too much for Nisus, who burst out: ‘If losers win prizes like
this and you take pity on people who fall, what gift will be
enough to give to Nisus? I would have won the victor’s crown
of glory and deserved it if the same bad luck as brought down
Salius had not disposed of me,’ and as he spoke he pointed to
the filthy wet dung on his face and body. Good Father Aeneas
laughed and ordered them to bring out a shield made by the
360 hand of Didymaon which had been dedicated to Neptune and
taken down from the doorposts of his temple by Greeks, and he
gave this superb gift to the noble young Nisus.
The race was over and the prizes finally awarded. Then spoke
Aeneas: ‘If there is any courage here, any man with a heart in
his breast, now is the time for him to come forward with gloves
on his hands and his guard up,’ and he set out two prizes for the
fight, for the victor a bullock with its head shadowed by ribbons
and its horns plated with gold, and a sword and splendid helmet
as a consolation prize for the loser. Dares did not hesitate.
Immediately that great face of his appeared and all his mighty
strength, and the people murmured as he hoisted himself to his
370 feet. He had been the only man who used to stand against Paris.
He was the man who had felled the huge Butes and stretched
him out to die on the yellow sand by the mound where great
Hector lay, when Butes came as champion from the Bebrycian
race of Amycus. This was the Dares who stood there with his
head held high to begin the battle, flexing his shoulders, throwing
lefts and rights and thrashing the air. They looked around
for an opponent, but no one in all that company dared go near
380 him or put on the gloves. Thinking that no one was challenging
him for the prize, he went straight up to Aeneas and stood there
in front of him. Without more ado he took one of the bull’s
horns in his left hand and said: ‘Son of the goddess, if no one
dares trust himself to battle, how long are we going to stand
here? What is the point of keeping me waiting? Tell them I can
take away my prize,’ and all the Trojans to a man murmured
and told Aeneas to award the prize as promised.
At this Acestes had hard words for Entellus, sitting next him
on a bank of green turf. ‘Entellus,’ he said, ‘I have seen the day
when you were the bravest of the heroes. Is it all in the past?
390 Are you going to sit there meekly when a prize like this is lifted
and no opposition offered? Tell me, where is Eryx now, the god
they say was once your teacher? Has all that come to nothing?
What about that reputation of yours that used to ring round
the whole island of Sicily? And what about the great trophies
hanging in your house?’ ‘I am not afraid,’ replied Entellus. ‘I
have still my pride and my love of honour. But old age is slowing
me down. The blood is cold and sluggish. My strength is gone
and my body is worn out. But if I were what I once was, if I had
the youth that makes that puppy so full of himself, prancing
about there, I would not have needed the reward of a pretty
400 bullock to bring me to my feet. I am not interested in prizes.’ At
these last words he threw into the middle the pair of prodigiously
heavy gauntlets in which Eryx used to raise his guard, carrying
them into battle with the hard leather stretched over his forearms.
They were amazed. The hides of seven huge oxen were
there, stiffened by lead and iron sewn into them. Dares was
more amazed than anyone and stood well back at the sight of
them, but the great-hearted son of Anchises picked them up and
felt their weight, turning over the great folds of the jointed
hides from one hand to another. Then spoke old Entellus, his
410 voicedeep in his chest: ‘What would you have thought, any of
you, if you had seen the gauntlets that were the armour of
Hercules himself and the cruel battle these two fought on this
very shore? This, Aeneas, is the armour your brother Eryx used
to wear. You see it is still caked with blood and spattered brains.
With these he stood that day against great Hercules. With these
I used to fight while there was still good blood in me to give me
strength, before old age came to tangle with me and sprinkled
both my temples with grey. But if Trojan Dares recoils from this
armour of ours, and if good Aeneas is satisfied and my patron
Acestes approves, let us level the odds. There’s nothing to be
420 afraid of, Dares. For you I give up the boxing leathers of Eryx,
and you take off your Trojan gauntlets,’ and as he spoke he
threw the double cloak off his shoulders and stripped to show
the great joints of his limbs, the great bones and muscles on his
arms, and stood there a giant in the middle of the arena.
Then the son of Anchises took out two matching pairs of
gauntlets, and tied armour of equal weight on the hands of both
men. There was no more delay. Each man took up his stance,
poised on his toes, stretching to his full height, guard held high
in the air and no sign of fear. They kept their towering heads
well back from the punches and fist struck fist as they warmed
430 to their work. Dares had youth on his side and speed of foot.
Entellus had the reach and the weight, but his knees were going.
He was slow and shaky and his whole huge body heaved with
the agony of breathing. Blow upon blow they threw at each
other and missed. Blow upon blow drummed on the hollow rib
cage, boomed on the chest and showered round the head and
ears, and the cheekbones rattled with the weight of the punches.
Entellus, being the heavier man, held firm in his stance, keeping
watchful eyes on his opponent and swaying away from the
440 bombardment. For Dares it was like attacking some massive
high-built city or besieging a mountain fortress. This way and
that he tried, covering all the ground in his manoeuvres, pressing
hard with all manner of assaults and all to no avail. Then
Entellus drew himself up and showed his right hand raised for
the blow, but Dares was quick to see it coming down and backed
away smartly. Entellus’ full force was in the blow and it met the
empty air. Great was his weight and great was the fall of that
huge body. He fell as a hollow pine tree falls, torn up by
450 the roots on great Mount Ida or on Erymanthus. Trojans and
Sicilians leapt to their feet as one man in their excitement and
the shouting rose to high heaven. Acestes was the first to run to
comfort his old friend and help him from the ground. But the
hero Entellus did not slow down or lose heart because of a fall.
He returned to the fray with his ferocity renewed and anger
rousing him to new heights of violence. His strength was kindled
by shame at his fall and pride in his prowess, and in a white
heat of fury he drove Dares before him all over the arena,
hammering him with rights and lefts and allowing him no rest
or respite. Like hailstones from a dark cloud rattling down on
460 roofs, Entellus battered Dares with a shower of blows from
both hands and sent him spinning.
At this point Father Aeneas did not allow the anger of Entellus
to go any further but checked his savage passion and put an end
to the fight. As he rescued the exhausted Dares he comforted
him with these words: ‘Unlucky Dares, what madness is this
that has taken possession of you? Do you not see that your
strength is not as his and the divine will has turned against you?
Yield to God.’ He spoke and his voice parted the combatants,
and Dares was led back to the ships by his faithful comrades,
dragging his weary legs, shaking his head from side to side and
470 spitting out a mixture of gore and teeth. His men were then
called and given the helmet and the sword, leaving the palm of
victory and the bull to Entellus. Then spoke the victor in all his
pride of spirit, glorying in the bull he had won: ‘Son of the
goddess, know this, and you too, men of Troy: this is the
strength there used to be in my body when I was in my prime
and this is the death from which you have rescued Dares.’ With
these words he took up his stance in front of the bullock’s head
as it stood there as the prize of battle, then, drawing back his
480 right hand and rising to his full height, he swung the brutal
gauntlet straight down between its horns, shattering the brains
and grinding them into the bone. The ox fell and lay full out on
the ground, dead and twitching, and these are the words Entellus
spoke and spoke them from the heart: ‘The life of this ox is
worth more than the life of Dares, and with it, Eryx, I pay my
debt to you in full, and here and now in the moment of victory,
I lay down my gauntlets and my art.’