| You are still PRIAM. You brush aside Hecabe's womanish forebodings, as you are convinced your orders came from Zeus. You sort out a quantity of suitable gifts (robes, tunics, gold, tripods, a cauldron or two, and a special cup). Your temper is up - you shout at 'riff raff' hanging around the palace, and give your sons stick for being useless slackers. Why couldn't they have been killed instead of Hector? |
