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Why threaten these? Why try to undermine my barbarian mind with your subtle words, you yourself a barbarian? [835] You did this deed; neither they who have died nor we who are wounded will believe it was any other. A long and clever speech you'll need to prove to me you did not slay your friends because you coveted the horses, and to gain them murdered [840] your own allies, after strongly imposing on them come. They came, they are dead; Paris found more decent means to shame the rights of hospitality than you, who killed your allies. No, do not tell me some Argive came and slaughtered us. Who could have passed the Trojan lines [845] and come against us without detection? You and your Phrygian troops were camped in front of us. Who was wounded, who was slain among your friends, when that foe you speak of came? It was we, far off, were wounded, while some have met a sterner [850] fate and said farewell to the sunlight. Briefly, then, I blame no Achaean. For what enemy could have come and found the lowly bed of Rhesus in the dark, unless some god were guiding the murderers' steps? They did not know so much [855] as know of his arrival. No, this is your plot!

For a long time now I have had to do with allies, yes, ever since Achaea's army settled in this land, and never a harsh word have I known them say of me; but with you I am to make a beginning. Never may such longing [860] for horses seize me that I should slay my friends! This is the work of Odysseus; for who of all the Argives but he would have devised or carried out such a deed? I fear him; and my mind is a little troubled lest he should have met and slain Dolon as well; [865] for he has been gone a long time and does not appear.

I do not know this Odysseus of whom you speak. It was no enemy's hand that struck us.

If it pleases you to think that, do so.

O land of my fathers, would I might die in you!

[870] Die! No! Enough are those already dead.

Where am I to turn, I ask you, bereft of my master?

My house shall shelter you and cure you of your hurt.

How shall murderers' hands care for me?

This fellow will never have done repeating the same story.

[875] Curses on the doer of this deed! On you my tongue fixes no charge, as you complain; but Justice is over all.

Take him away; carry him to my palace and tend him carefully, that he may have no fault to find. And you must go to those upon the walls, [880] to Priam and his aged councillors, and tell them to give orders for the burial of the dead at the resting-place along the public road.The charioteer is carried off.

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