The soft bar of haze that every day, until this day, has separated the sea from the sky is now a broad black line, stretching left and right as far as the eye can see. As the Trojans watch, the line thickens. It is as if Poseidon is pushing up a new island or a new continent. Soon they realize that the black line is not a great cliff rising from the sea. It is an unimaginably huge fleet of ships approaching line abreast. Hundreds upon hundreds upon hundreds of them.
