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Helen of Troy

Sparta had no share in the guilt; it was Paris entirely, who came as a guest and violated your hospitality.”

Menelaos understood why his brother was called the king of men. But later in the evening he was heard to say he would have killed Helen if Agamemnon hadn’t interfered.

He had to take her to the ships for the night, with the other prisoners, but he couldn’t make up his mind in what order they should set out. Not side by side, of course. He in front, perhaps. That idea he gave up before they reached the street. The emphasis on the procession seemed misplaced. He sent her on ahead to take unprotected whatever insults the curious army might care to hurl at her. But the men gazed in silence, or almost so. They didn’t notice him. He heard one say she looked like Aphrodite, caught naked in the arms of Ares, when Hephaistos, her ridiculous husband, threw a net over the lovers and called the other gods to see her shame. A second man said he felt like the other gods on that occasion, who expressed a willingness to change places any time with Ares, net and all.