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First, the god massacred mules
and swift-running dogs,
then loosed sharp arrows in among the troops themselves.
Thick fires burned the corpses ceaselessly.
For nine days Apollo rained death down upon the troops.
On the tenth, Achilles summoned an assembly.
White-armed Hera put that thought into his mind,
concerned for the Danaans, seeing them die.
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The men gathered. The meeting came to order.
Swift-footed Achilles rose to speak:
"Son of Atreus,
I fear we're being beaten back, forced home,
if we aren't all going to be destroyed right here,
with war and plague killing off Achaeans.
Come now, let's ask some prophet, priest,
interpreter of dreams—for dreams, too, come from Zeus—
a man who might say why Apollo is so angry,
whether he faults our prayers and offerings,
whether somehow he'll welcome sacrificial smoke
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from perfect lambs and goats, then rouse himself
and release us from this plague."
Achilles spoke and took his seat.
Then Calchas, Thestor's son, stood up before them all,
the most astute interpreter of birds, who understood
present, future, past. His skill in prophecy,
Apollo's gift, had led Achaean ships to Troy.
He addressed the troops, thinking of their common good:
"Achilles, friend of Zeus, you ask me to explain
Apollo's anger, the god who shoots from far.
And I will speak. But first you listen to me.
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Swear an oath that you will freely help me
in word and deed. For I think I may provoke
someone who wields great power over Argives,
a man who is obeyed by everyone.
An angry king overpowers lesser men.
Even if that day his anger is suppressed,