While the old Centaur was thus musing in the twilight, Peleus himself came softly over the mossy turf and stood beside him. But Chiron, wrapped in thought, neither saw nor heard his coming. Then Peleus gently laid a bundle, rolled in a purple cloak, at his friend's feet, and a tiny cry came from the bundle. At that Chiron started up, and saw who was come to him, and he gave Peleus loving greeting. "My son," he said, "often have I longed to see your face again, and even now I was thinking of you. But what cry did I hear at hand, like the cry of a motherless lamb? Alas, why weep you at these words?"

"O Chiron," said Peleus, "it is indeed a motherless lamb I bring you," and he unrolled the cloak and put a yellow-haired babe into the Centaur's arms. "Take my little son," he said, "and be tender to him, with the tenderness you show to every helpless thing, for there is none to rear him in my desolate house." And for very grief he could say no more. But the babe, who was beautiful as the day, looked into Chiron's wise old face and smiled, and Chiron said, "See, already he is without fear, this child who is to be so great a warrior." Then he called Philyra and Chariclo, those gentle nurses of many a hero, and gave the babe into their keeping; but he himself made ready supper for Peleus without more words, for he saw that his sorrow was great. Nor did he ask him any more questions till he had cheered him with food and wine, and they were sitting together, as of old, beside the hearth. Then, laying his hand on the young man's shoulder, he said, "Will you not tell me now, my son, what this sorrow is, which I can but guess at, that if I cannot help you, at least I may strive to comfort you?" "Little I thought," said Peleus, "when I left this cave the happiest of mortals, that ever I should come back with such tidings as I must tell you now. The daughter of Nereus has forsaken me and our child, and gone back to the Sea-King's halls. She told me at the beginning that she must leave me for ever the first time I crossed her in anything, for such, she said, is the way of all the sea-people. And when the babe was born, I woke one night and saw here steal out of our chamber carrying it in her arms, and I followed her, to see what she would do. She went into the hall, , where the fire still burned on the hearth, and there, horror-stricken, I saw her thrust the child into the glowing embers. Who could see that and not do as I did? Yet the reproachful look Thetis gave me, as I snatched the babe from her, pierced me to the soul. 'Did I not warn you,' she said, 'never to cross me? Had you not hindered, I would have made the child weapon-proof from head to heel by the power of flame. But I must leave that word undone. Farewell, farewell!' With that, quick as a lightning-flash, she darted from the hall and from the palace, and flung herself into the sea."

Chiron listened without wonder to this strange story, for he knew both the nature of the sea-people and the magic they can work. "Be comforted, Peleus," he said; "remember how Apollo prophesied in his song that your son should be reared in this cave of mine; it was fated, then, that his mother should thus leave him. And though Thetis is lost to you now, yet if you wait patiently, sure I am that she will come to you again at last, never to leave you more. For happiness must come, in the end, of bridals which the high gods blest with their presence."

The kindly Centaur's words soothed the grief of Peleus, and brought him new hope. "I will be patient," he said; "and as for the child, I remembered the song of Apollo, and it lightened my heart a little to think of his growing up in your care, my wise and tender teacher. But tell me now, why Thetis said her work was not finished, and by what magic the babe passed unhurt through the flame?"

"Fire has no power on the bodies of the Immortals," said Chiron, "nor on any living thing, so long as an Immortal has hold of it. So the babe was safe while Thetis held it, and its flesh is weapon-proof wherever the flame touched it, for what fire does not burn, it makes unwoundable. But to finish her work, Thetis must have plunged the child into the fire a second time, because where her hand grasped it, there the flame could not reach."

"She held it by one heel," said Peleus.

"That heel, then," said the Centaur, "is the one spot where your son can be wounded."

Thus they talked together till far into the night, and on the morrow Peleus separted to his own home. At his going, Chiron asked him what he should call his son, and he said, "Achilles is the name his mother gave him."

The little Achilles was the fairest and the most bold-hearted of all the good Centaur's foster-children, and soon was dearer to him than even the beautiful Jason had been, or Asclepios the healer. In his very babyhood, he began to love the hunter's sport not less than Peleus his father did, and his first plaything was a little bow and arrow that he begged for as soon as he could speak. With these he would shoot from the doorway of the cave at prowling wolf or bear, but when he was six summer old, he could not be content till Chiron gave him leave to go hunting in the forest. And that day another prophecy was fulfilled, for at sunset the Centaur, looking forth from the cavern, saw the little boy running towards him, dragging the still panting carcase of a huge wild boar, and he saw too, though Achilles could not, two stately forms moving beside him. One was clad in shining armour, with a golden helm upon her golden hair, and a great spear in her hand; the other, still taller, and slender as a young poplar, wore the short garb and leathern buskins of a hunter, and carried a silver bow. It was the great Athena, and Artemis, the Lady of the Wild Things, who walked, smiling, beside the marvellous child, and not then only, but through all his boyhood, they loved to watch his daring, and his strength like a young god's.

Now Chiron taught Achilles all his precepts of wisdom, and the perfect ways of honour and courtesy, but warrior-skill and hunting-craft he had no need to teach him, for they were his by nature. So swift of foot was he, that he could run down the hart and the roebuck; so strong, that he could take bison and boar alive, without help of hounds or hunting-nets. And though he had seen no weapon but bow and spear, of those he had such mastery from his infant days, that Chiron knew no warrior could stand against him.

So the years went by, until Chiron heard from the birds, his newsbringers, that a great war was toward, for a king in the South was gathering a mighty host to sail against a distant city. And Troy, the birds told him, was the city's name. When Chiron heard that, he called Achilles to him, and said, "My child, it was in this cave that your mother's marriage feast was held, and all the gods came to it, to bless the bridals, and bright Apollo uttered in song the destiny that was in store for you. I see now the beginning of those things which he foretold, and the time is come for you to return to your father's house, that you may go the way Fate has prepared for those swift feet of yours. Farewell, last and dearest of my fosterlings; I know that I must see your face no more, and yet I cannot grieve at your departing, when I remember Apollo's prophecy and the glory that you are so soon to win." Thus he took leave of the youth, and sent him away that same hour to Phthia, the country of Peleus in the North. Achilles found his father dwelling in the palace by the sea, which he had called the House of Thetis, in honour of his bride. Peleus beheld him with joy, and said, "Welcome, my beloved son; I know you are come at the good Centaur's bidding, for he promised me long ago to send you home to me when the right time came."

Now Thetis had learnt from Nereus, who could foresee it all, what her child's doom must be, if ever he went to war, and when the old Sea-King told her that messengers were even then on their way to seek him in the house of Peleus, and summon him to the gathering of princes against Troy, she resolved to prevent them. She rose up through the sea that night, and glided silently to the bedside of Achilles, and carried him away in his sleep to an island called Scyros. So, when he awoke, behold he was lying on an unknown shore, and saw a strange and beautiful lady bending over him. Then Thetis made herself known to her son, and prayed him, if he had any love for his mother, to do what she would now bid him without questioning, for if he would not, she said with tears, a grievous thing must befall her. And Achilles promised to obey her, remembering the teaching of Chiron, how he said that next to the immortal gods, father and mother must be reverenced. Forthwith Thetis dressed the youth in a broidered robe, and when she had combed out his long fair hair with a comb of pearl, he seemed a tall blooming maiden. "I will bring you now," she said, "to the king of this isle, who is a friend to me and my people, and will say to him that you are a maid I have saved from shipwreck. At my request, he will lodge you for a while with the princess, his daughter, and do you, for my sake, take heed that no one discoveres you are not what you seem."

So she brought him to the king's house, and he became the loved companion of the young princess and her maidens; and in their games, the new playmate was always winner, but in weaving and spinning was so clumsy that they made great sport of her.

But the day after Thetis stole away Achilles, those messengers whom she feared came to Peleus saying, "King Agamemnon is marshalling a host to sail against Troy, and princes who love peril and renown are gathered to him from many lands. We are come from him to greet you, and to pray you to send your young son along with us, for a seer has revealed that Troy cannot be taken save by a warrior sprung from Peleus."

"He shall surely go with your host," answered Peleus, "and not alone, for I will send fifty ships, well manned, to Agamemnon's aid."

Then he sent to call Achilles before the messengers, but he could not be found. Now the messengers were King Agamemnon's herald, and a certain prince by name Odysseus. This Odysseus was the wiliest of men, and the most keen-witted, and it came into his thought that Peleus had heard of the war, and hidden his son betimes that he might not go into danger. "Swear to us, King," he said, "that you are not beguiling us, for how can your son have gone hence, and you know nothing of it?" Peleus had a mind to give him an angry answer, but he refrained himself, and called Zeus to witness that he knew not what was become of Achilles. "This, then, is the work of some god," said Odysseus, and he departed with the herald. Now this subtle prince was very greatly favoured by Athena, for that goddess loves valour much, but prudence more, and Odysseus, though no coward, was better in council than in fight. So he had not gone far on his road, when she met him in the likeness of an old seaman, and said, "The lad you seek, Odysseus, is in Scyros, for I saw him there." "I will take ship and go find him," said Odysseus . "That will not be easy," said the seeming old man; "he dwells in the king's house in the guise of a maiden, and none had guessed his secret but myself, who knew his face aforetime." "Nevertheless, I will go," said Odysseus, "for I think I know a way to tell a youth from a girl—and disguise is a trick that others can play besides Achilles."