Oenone woke. The nymph had fallen asleep on a small hill near Troy. She came here often, hoping for a chance to see Paris, whom, after all these years, she still loved.
But this morning Oenone woke from a terrible dream. In her dream, she had seen the body of man, bleeding and in great pain, lying alone in the darkness. In the distance, she had heard the lonely howl of a wolf, and it had filled her with fear and sadness.
Oenone stood up and looked toward Troy. The city was in an uproar. Soldiers were running along the walls, shouting and pointing toward the sea,
Oenone quickly ran to the other side of the hill and froze. She had never seen anything like it. A huge fleet of black ships was sailing toward the shore, covering the surface of the sea like a swarm of beetles. She heard the sound of a horn, and she turned to see a great army of Trojans heading for the beach.
The nymph looked toward Mt. Olympus. The gods and goddesses were coming to watch, each taking the side of either the Greeks or the Trojans. Supporting the Greeks were Poseidon, Hera, Athena, Hephaestos and Hermes. On the side of the Trojans were Apollo, Artemis, Aphrodite and Ares.
Only Zeus remained on Mt. Olympus, his sad and weary eyes on the three urns at the doors to his palace. One was filled with blessings, the others were filled with sorrows. These he would scatter on the mortal world below.
Oenone heard the first cries of battle, and watched the Greek ships approach the shore, and she saw the Trojans drawing their bows. She had the gift of foresight and immediately she knew: the first Greek to set foot on the shore would die.
She saw Achilles leading the Greek fleet, standing proud and beautiful on the prow of his ship. He drew his sword and with a great cry he leaped from the ship and into the shallow water.
Oenone shivered.
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