Thus spake the glorious Hector; but all were silent; for they were afraid to meet him.  Then, at last, Menelaus, groaning deeply, reproached the Achaians, and said, “O ye women of Achaia, no longer men! surely this will be an everlasting shame to us, if none of the Greeks dare to fight with the noble Hector!  But I myself will arm me; for the issues of victory are with the Gods.”

And he began to put on his dazzling armor.  And now wouldst thou, Menelaus, have yielded up thy life at the hands of Hector; but the great ruler, Agamemnon, rose up and stayed thee.  “Art thou mad, O foster-son of Zeus?  Draw back, though with grief and pain; and think not to fight with Hector, the man-slaying son of Priam; for he is a far better man than thou, even godlike Achilles feareth to meet this man in battle.  Go then and sit down; and we will choose another champion.”

And the fair-haired Menelaus obeyed his brother’s words, and his henchmen gladly took off his bright armor.  And the wise Nestor arose, and upbraided all the Achaian chiefs:  “Fie on us!  Shame and lamentation have come upon us all.  Surely the aged Peleus, the goodly king of the Myrmidons, would deeply groan, if he heard that we are all cowering before great Hector; he would pray that his soul might leave his body and go down to Hades.  Would to Zeus, and to Athene and Apollo, that I were young, as when the Pylians met the Arcadians in battle, and Ereuthalion, the squire of King Lycurgus of Arcadia, wearing the divine armor of Areithous, of the iron mace, before the walls of Pheia, by the waters of Iardanus, challenged all our host; and they were afraid and trembled.  Then I, the youngest of all, stood up and fought with him, and Athene gave me great glory; for he was the tallest man, and of the greatest bulk, that I have ever slain.  Would that I were still so young and strong!  But of you, leaders of the Achaians, not one has heart enough to meet great Hector.”

The wise old man’s reproaches filled the Achaian chiefs with shame; and nine of them rose up, ready to fight; namely, Agamemnon, king of men; and the stalwart Diomedes; and Idomeneus, and his brother in arms, Meriones, equal in fight to murderous Mars; and Eurypylus, and Thaus, and the wily Ulysses, and two others.  Then Nestor spake again.  “Now cast lots for him that shall be champion.”  Then each man marked his lot, and threw it into Agamemnon’s helmet; and all men prayed that the lot might fall on Ajax or Diomedes, or the king of rich Mycenae.  Then Nestor shook the helmet, and the lot of Ajax leapt out; and the herald placed it in the hand of mighty Ajax, and he was glad; for he said, “I think that I shall vanquish goodly Hector.”  And they all prayed to the Son of Cronos, to give victory to Ajax, or to grant unto each of them equal glory and renown.