He sprang upon the wounded man to take his arms, but Hector jumped from his chariot and seized his brother’s head. Patroclus took his feet and the two men struggled for the body. A crowd of Trojans and Achaians came to their aid, and spears, shields, and naked swords rattled noisily against one another. The Trojans defended Hector as well as they could, but while he struggled for the body, none could get near him. However, a bold Trojan seized a favorable opportunity, and with a powerful blow of his sword, knocked off Patroclus’ helmet, cutting the strap of his shield at the same time, so that it fell to the earth. The hero started back and let go the corpse, but as he turned, Euphorbus stabbed him in the back. He tried to escape, but Hector laid him low with his heavy lance. The Achaians trembled, and even the most courageous of them lost their heads, and none dared interfere as Hector, bracing his foot against the body, drew out his spear, then stripped off the armor. It was now Hector’s turn to mock at the dying man and he cried: “Well, Patroclus, dost thou still expect to lay waste our city and carry off our women? One could see thou hadst great deeds in mind. No doubt Achilles bade thee not return without Hector’s bloody coat of mail. Now, poor man, thou liest here and givest me thy fine armor, but thee I give to the dogs and birds of prey for food.”
Faintly the dying man answered him: “It is a foolish boast, Hector. Thou camest, when I was defenseless and wounded, to rob me. In open conflict I could have slain twenty like thee, but a boy could have done what thou hast done. But vengeance is approaching and when it comes, think of me. The godlike Achilles still lives.”
“Spare me thy prophecies and die,” replied Hector. “Who knoweth but Achilles, like thee, may give up his soul at the point of my spear?” With these words he left the dying man and carried the splendid armor to a place of safety, then went back into the fray.
Hector next roved about seeking to capture the splendid steeds of Achilles with which Patroclus had entered the field, but he could not come near them, for Patroclus’ charioteer, Automedon, was already far distant. Meanwhile the space about Patroclus’ body was deserted except for Menelaus, who stood guard beside it, covering it with his shield until some of his comrades should come up to bear it away to the ships. He was spied by Euphorbus, brother of that Hyperenor who had fallen by Menelaus’ hand the day before. He approached within a spear’s cast and called to him: “Son of Atreus, stand back from the dead! Thou shalt not give honorable burial to this destroyer who hath slain so many of us. Back, before I rob thee of thy sweet life!”
“Great Jupiter,” cried Menelaus, “did one ever hear such insolence! Only yesterday thy brother Hyperenor was equally bold, but I believe he has paid the penalty, for he can scarcely have returned to his dear wife and old father on his own feet. The same fate awaiteth thee, if thou approach nearer. I advise thee to escape while thou canst.”
“It is for my brother’s sake that I would fight with thee,” cried Euphorbus. “How delighted shall my father be when I bring him thy bloody armor in token of vengeance. But why do I waste time in talk? Let us try our skill.”
As he spoke he ran at Menelaus full tilt with his lance, but the point bent like lead against the shield and did not even scratch it. Then Menelaus ran him through with his own spear and the slender youth fell, as a tender sprout of olive is uprooted by the wind. His long waving hair was bathed in blood and he, who but a moment before had bounded among the ranks of warriors like a deer, lay unrecognizable. Menelaus was about to take his armor when he saw Hector at a distance, and not caring to face him he left Patroclus’ body and ran to fetch the elder Ajax, that together they might protect their friend from the thieving hands of the Trojans.
Then Glaucus spoke sullenly to Hector. “Thou art a great boaster, but never have I seen thee at the post of danger, nor attempting to defend or avenge any of thy comrades. The heroic Sarpedon, who sacrificed so much for thee, was left to his fate, and no one knoweth where he fell. Do the Lycians deserve this at thy hands? If thou art so ungrateful and no honor is paid a fallen hero, then mayest thou fight thy battles alone and I will take my Lycians home. If ye Trojans were men of courage and decision, ye would carry off the body of Patroclus to a place of safety. Doubtless the Achaians would then offer the body of Sarpedon and his weapons in exchange and even more. But thou fleest the battle like a coward, fearing Ajax, who is, indeed, quite another sort of man.”
Darkly Hector gazed at him and began: “Ah, my friend, I have always taken thee for a man of sense, but now hast thou spoken rashly. When did the enemy or the snorting of horses ever terrify me? No, I fear neither Ajax nor Diomedes nor any of the Achaian heroes, but rather the decree of Jove, who has apparently given victory into the hands of the enemy. What availeth the valor of a mortal against the god of gods? But if thou wilt observe my actions, take heed and see if I am as timid as thou hast said.”
Clad in Achilles’ magnificent armor he immediately assembled his men with loud battle cries. Calling all the princes together, he spoke to them. “Friends and allies, not to be in the midst of many men have I called ye to Troy, but that ye might aid me in time of danger to protect our wives and children. It is for this that our poor people are laboring to feed and sustain ye with their flocks and the fruits of their fields, and for this I am striving with sword and speech to encourage ye and spur ye on to the combat. Then let us fight to the death! And to him who bears the body of Patroclus into Troy I promise a rich recompense.”
All followed him, shouting, to the spot where Menelaus and Ajax stood shielding the body of Patroclus. Their hearts beat wildly when they saw the little band bearing down on them, and Menelaus ran as fast as he could to procure more help. “Come friends,” he cried, “there lies Patroclus, whom the Trojans would seize and carry away to become food for Trojan dogs. Do ye not feel the shame of it?”
The younger Ajax was the first to hear and respond; then came Idomeneus and Meriones, each with a band of followers. They arrived beside the corpse just as Hector and his men came up, and the shock of meeting was like the ocean tide at the mouth of some mighty river which empties into the sea, so terrible was the crash of shields and lances.
Then Automedon with Achilles’ steeds came dashing along, resolved himself to contend for the corpse. Hector saw him coming and cried, rejoicing, to Æneas: “There come Achilles’ splendid horses! Come, if thou wilt aid me, let us take them!” They ran toward the chariot, but Automedon, springing to the ground, called Ajax and Menelaus to his aid. Chromeus and Aretus joined Hector and Æneas and a fresh contest raged about the chariot. Hector aimed well and cast with mighty power, but Automedon dashed quickly aside and the spear flew far over him into the earth, where it quivered for a long time. Automedon was more fortunate, and although Hector dodged the blow, it struck Aretus, who stood behind him. Meanwhile evening was descending and Ajax was anxious to secure the body before night came on. But it was all the Achaians could do to hold back the enemy. Then Ajax said to Menelaus: “If only some good youth would hasten to the ships and take to Achilles the tidings of his friend’s death perhaps he would come himself to rescue the body from the enemy’s hands. Dost thou see Antilochus, Nestor’s son? I think he could reach camp quickest.” Menelaus hastened away to seek the youth, where he was fighting at the other side of the battlefield. He was horrified to learn of the hero’s death and tears filled his eyes; but he did not tarry and hurried away to Achilles.
Menelaus returned straightway to Ajax, saying: “I have sent him, but I doubt whether Achilles will come without his armor. So let us try once more to secure the body.”
“Thou art right,” answered Ajax. “Let us make another attempt, and if they retire but a little way, do thou and Meriones seize the corpse while the rest of us keep off the mighty Hector and the other Trojans.”
This strategy partially succeeded and Menelaus and Meriones were able to drag the body some distance away. Meanwhile Achilles had been impatiently awaiting his tardy friend. He ascended to his usual post, the high deck of his ship, and saw, approaching through the twilight and clouds of dust, dense crowds which looked like fleeing men. It seemed to him that he could hear Hector’s triumphant voice pursuing the Achaians. An uneasy premonition seized him and he was about to send out a messenger when young Antilochus appeared before him and spake, weeping: “Woe is me, son of Peleus, I bring thee sad tidings. Patroclus is slain, and our warriors are fighting desperately for his naked body, for Hector has taken his weapons.”
Achilles grew pale as death. He tore his hair with rage, beat his breast, and threw himself upon the ground, covering dress, face, and head with dust. His eyes flashed dangerously, his heart palpitated, and horrible groans escaped his half-open lips. His slaves gathered about him in affright; but when they learned the cause of his boundless sorrow, they all burst out weeping. Antilochus wept also and held the hero’s hands, fearing that the passionate man would harm himself. This terrible despair lasted a long time, but at last the overburdened heart found relief in tears and he broke out in loud lamentations.
His mother Thetis heard him and arose from the depths of the sea to seat herself beside her unhappy son. She pressed his head to her bosom and inquired tenderly: “Dear child, what is troubling thee now? Do not conceal anything from me. Speak! Hath Jupiter not fulfilled thy wish and given the victory to the Trojans?”
“What care I for the favor of Jupiter when Patroclus, whom I loved as myself, lies dead! Hector hath slain him and taken the armor, that splendid gift of my valiant father. For what a fate was I born! But, indeed, I will not live if I may not slay Hector and avenge the death of my friend.”
“Glorious son,” said his mother, weeping, “when thou hast slain him it will be thy doom; for thy death is decreed immediately after Hector’s.”
“Would that I were already dead,” answered Achilles gloomily, “as I was not permitted to save my friend. But I will avenge him and pay him such honor as no mortal has ever received before. Then let Jupiter do with me as he will. Death is the lot of all. Even great Hercules died, the best beloved of all Jupiter’s sons. But before Death takes me, many a Trojan woman shall lament that I have slain her son or young spouse. They shall all learn that my long rest is ended.”
“I shall not restrain thee,” answered the silver-footed Thetis, “for thy grief is righteous and thy resolution to honor the dead and save thy friends from destruction is commendable. But thou hast no weapons and I forbid thee to enter the turmoil of Mars until at dawn thou seest me returning with armor from the hand of the artist Vulcan.” She suddenly disappeared and ascended to Olympus to beg the weapons from the god.
THETIS CONSOLING ACHILLES
Meanwhile the noise of the struggle grew louder as the fortunes of war drove the Achaians to flight. With loud cries the Trojans followed the body of Patroclus in the twilight, and although the two bearers hurried as fast as they could to get it to a place of safety, they were often in danger of losing it. Hector pursued them continually with his men and more than once had seized one of the dead man’s feet. The two Ajaxes had no thought of killing Hector, for his gigantic stature appalled them. They only held the corpse tighter, to keep it from being torn from them. Just as they were nearing the moat, they would have lost it, if a swift messenger had not summoned Achilles. “Help! help! Achilles!” he cried. “Hector will soon have taken the body of Patroclus. He threatens to cut off the head and put it on a pike and to throw the trunk to the Trojan dogs. What a disgrace if thy friend’s body be taken and misused!”
Like a maniac, without armor or weapons, Achilles rushed out, and in a voice like thunder rolling in the mountains, he roared out most terrible threats, so that both Trojans and Achaians were overcome by fear and Hector, terrified, let go the corpse and quickly retired with his followers, thinking Achilles was already on his track. Thus the two heroes brought the corpse safely into camp. Achilles gazed long upon his friend, speechless, with bowed head, clenched hands, and tears coursing down his cheeks. The Trojans now held council whether they should spend the night in the city or on the battlefield. Polydamas was anxious to retire, for he feared Achilles; but Hector insisted on remaining, for he held that it would be cowardly to allow the enemy to suspect that they were afraid. “Let Achilles come forth to-morrow,” he concluded; “he will do so at his own risk. I shall surely not fly before him. I long to meet him, and then Jupiter shall decide which one of us shall be covered with glory. Mars is a vacillating god, who oft destroys the destroyer.”
So they encamped on the field for the night. Youths brought forth animals from the city for the sacrifice, together with bread and wine, lit fires, and prepared the evening meal. The Achaians also, after supping, laid down to rest. But Achilles could not sleep. Kneeling beside his dead friend, he laid his hand on his cold breast and sobbed. Overcome with grief he cried: “Before the earth hides me, thou shalt be avenged, my Patroclus. I will lay Hector’s weapons at thy feet and Hector’s bloody head beside them. I will slay twelve Trojan youths in thine honor. Rest thou here in peace, for the morrow shall shed glory upon thee and me.”
Meanwhile Thetis had arrived in Olympus and went straightway to Vulcan’s dwelling. Late as it was, she heard him hammering in his workshop, for he was making twenty bronze tripods for the Olympians’ hall. He had fastened golden wheels to each foot, so that they could roll to the banquet of themselves. They were all finished except for the handles, and these he wished to complete that night. Aphrodite, the beautiful spouse of the lame fire god, was the first to spy the newcomer at the door. She took her hand, saying: “Welcome, dear friend, what bringeth thee so late from thy sea depths? Thou dost not often visit me.” She led her within and called her spouse.
He immediately left his anvil, washed his hands with a sponge, also his sooty face, neck, and powerful chest, threw on his cloak, and leaning on his golden staff, came limping to the door. He took the goddess’ hand and bade her welcome. “I always think of thee with gratitude,” he said; “for thou didst take me in when I was lamed and my mother would not tolerate me in heaven. Then I lived for a time in thy crystal palace under the sea and fashioned many a pretty piece of work—rings and clasps, pins and chains—until Juno took me into favor again and I left thy dwelling. Therefore, Aphrodite, see that thou entertain our guest worthily.”
When Thetis had partaken of the nectar and ambrosia which Aphrodite set before her, she began to recite all her son’s troubles, from Agamemnon’s injustice down to the fall of Patroclus. Then she begged the god to forge new armor for the unlucky Achilles, so that he might be ready to attack Hector in the morning. Aphrodite was displeased, for she feared for the Trojans, but the god paid no attention to her and promised to fulfil Thetis’ desire. He immediately returned to his workshop and began the work.
Before the night was two thirds past the most splendid suit of armor that ever a hero had possessed was completed. The shield especially was a work of art. In the middle the earth was represented with the sea and sky, sun, moon, and stars. There were also two cities; one at peace and the other in the throes of war. In one a wedding was being celebrated with music and dance and there were many pictures of peaceful labor in field and vineyard. The other city was in a state of siege, and one could plainly see the besiegers and the citizens defending themselves. Around the edge of the shield flowed the deep river Oceanus.
Rosy-fingered Eos was mounting the eastern sky as Thetis arrived at her son’s tent with the rich suit of armor. She found him still stretched beside Patroclus’ body with the mourning women about him. Achilles accepted Vulcan’s wonderful work joyfully, and the sight of the weapons made his eyes flash with a dangerous light. When he had carefully examined and admired the artistic embellishments he said to Thetis: “Mother, these weapons are not the work of a mortal; some god has forged them. Come, I will arm myself, that the Trojans may tremble at the glorious sight.”
He then approached the tents and ships of the Achaians, calling to them loudly to come forth. They rejoiced to hear the thunder of that voice, which had been silent so long, and came hastening to the council place. Diomedes was limping painfully and leaning on his lance. Even Agamemnon and Ulysses, both weakened by painful wounds, came dragging themselves along with staves. When they were all seated in their places, Achilles took up the sceptre and spoke. “Son of Atreus, let us be reconciled, as we have long wished to be. I had rather the gods had slain the rosy maiden before ever a quarrel on her account had estranged us and my anger sent so many noble Achaians down to Hades. But let us forget the bitter past. I have moderated my anger, for a generous man should not be implacable, however much he has been wronged. And now let us hasten to lead our people to the combat, for the Trojans must not burn the ships to-day.”
He was interrupted by a loud shout of exultation. The tidings that he had relented and would join them in the battle was enough to fill all hearts with joy. In their excitement they did not care to hear more, and not until the thunderous tones of the heralds had commanded silence could Agamemnon’s answer be heard. “Jupiter alone knows,” said he, “how blind rage could have led me to commit such an injustice, from which my heart now recoils and which I have long bitterly repented. Thou hast already heard from Ulysses of the gifts which I offered thee in reparation, and even now, that thou comest of thyself, I will take nothing back. My servants shall deliver all to thee, if thou wilt but save the Achaians.”
Smiling, the warlike Achilles answered him: “I care not whether thou givest or retainest thy treasure. Let us think only of the war and lead the battalions without delay against the enemy, for there is much work to do and great deeds must be accomplished this day.”
Now Ulysses spoke up. “Not thus, excellent Achilles; we must not be hasty. Let the soldiers partake of food, for the battle will not be of a few hours’ duration only. Thou hast more endurance than all others, but none but thee can hold out through the long day’s work without food or drink. Let the people first break their fast, while Agamemnon sends for the promised gifts, that we may all look upon them. Then he shall feast thee in his tent, that thou mayest enjoy all the honor due thee; for even a king should propitiate the man whom he hath wronged.”
“I gladly follow thy wise counsel,” answered Agamemnon, “and if thou wilt, thou mayest go thyself to my ships, with six picked men, to fetch the promised gifts.”
“Son of Atreus,” interrupted Achilles, “never mind the gifts. Let us think only of the slain, who are calling to us to avenge them. And ye talk of eating and drinking and of rest! If I were in command the people should be led forth fasting and at night; after the day’s work they should feast twice over. For my part, not a drop shall pass my lips until I shall have avenged my friend. I have no thoughts, but of murder, bloodshed, and the death rattle of falling men.”
“Great son of Peleus,” suggested Ulysses, “though thou art no doubt stronger and braver than I, yet I think I can give thee good counsel, for I have lived longer and seen much. Take my advice this once. Thou canst conquer only with warriors who are rested, refreshed, and eager for the fight; but the hungry and thirsty soldier will follow thee half-heartedly and in the end be overcome by his own weakness.”
Without awaiting Achilles’ answer, the leaders gave the soldiers the signal to break their fast. Ulysses quickly selected six good comrades and went to fetch the presents from Agamemnon’s ships and tents. He selected the basins, ewers, the horses and women, weighed out ten pounds of gold, and then summoned the fair Briseïs to follow him. On their return to the council place Agamemnon sent the gifts immediately to Achilles’ encampment.
In vain the noble Achaian heroes surrounded Achilles and begged him to join them at the banquet. He shook his head, saying: “Kind friends, do not trouble me, for I am very sorrowful and I shall fast until the sun sets.” The princes retired sadly to their tents to partake of food. Only Atreus’ sons and the noble Ulysses, Nestor, Idomeneus, and the gigantic Phœnix remained with him, trying to comfort the mourner. He sat brooding over his sorrow. “Dear, unhappy friend,” he said, “how oft hast thou brought me my breakfast and tended me while the others went forth to battle, and now thou liest here dead; but neither food nor drink can refresh me while I mourn for thee. I had always hoped that I alone should die in the Trojan land and that thou shouldst return to Phthia, to bring up my son, dear Neoptolemus. And now thou art gone before me.”
Thus he lamented, and all his friends mourned with him. Even Jupiter was touched by his deep sorrow and sent his daughter Athena down secretly to strengthen his heart with heavenly nectar, and thus the hero was able to appear in all his glory when the warriors gathered together. The lust of battle had dried the tears upon his eyelids.
All Olympus was now interested in the combat of mortals since the godlike Achilles had taken up arms again. Many of the divinities promised him victory, but Jupiter was resolved that he should not yet destroy the splendid city of the Trojans, for fate had not decreed that it should fall by his hand. Therefore he commanded the other gods to stay the zeal of the Pelide should he rage too terribly. The Trojans were already armed and in the field and the swarms of Achaians flew to meet them like a heap of dry leaves driven before the wind. Achilles looked everywhere for Hector, but without discovering him. Instead, he espied two other chieftains, Æneas and Lykaon.
Æneas determined to face the hero. He commended his soul to his divine mother and pushed forward shouting fierce threats. Achilles ran toward him without hesitation and then stopping suddenly he called out: “How canst thou venture so far from thy men, Æneas? What is it impels thee to fight with me? Dost think perchance that if thou shouldst conquer me thou shalt become ruler of the Trojans? Priam has still plenty of sons! Did I not meet thee on Mount Ida, where father Jupiter himself was scarce able to save thee? Thou didst run like a deer, not daring to look behind thee. Thou hadst better fly now, if life is dear to thee, and take care not to get in my way a second time.”
“Son of Peleus,” answered Æneas, “do not hope to frighten me with words like a child. My race is as exalted as thine own, for I was fathered by Anchises of Dardanus’ family and Aphrodite is my mother. My family is old and powerful. But why do we gossip like women? Come, let us see whether it be Aphrodite or Thetis who shall mourn for her son to-day.”
He was the first to cast his spear, and Achilles held his shield before him at arm’s length, so that should it pierce the metal, it might not touch his body. But the swift-flying weapon glanced off harmlessly. Immediately he hurled his own powerful lance, but Æneas threw himself on the ground and covered himself. The mighty lance crashed through the edge of his shield and buried itself in the ground just behind the crouching man. He arose quickly, seized a great stone, and threw it at the head of Achilles, who was rushing upon him with drawn sword in a blind rage, forgetting to shield himself, so that had Vulcan’s helmet not been so strong, helmet and skull would doubtless have been crushed. Æneas was about to exult over his fall, but Achilles only staggered back a step and a god warned Æneas to escape. He therefore drew Achilles’ heavy spear from his shield, and throwing it down, fled into the crowd of Trojans.
When Achilles came to, he found himself on the ground, supporting himself on one arm, and alone. He was astonished and said to himself: “What miracle is this? Here lies my spear and my adversary is nowhere to be seen. But indeed Æneas must be beloved of the gods, for no one has ever vanquished me thus. But he did not venture to kill me in my swoon and is, no doubt, happy to have himself escaped. And now I must away to measure myself with other Trojans.” He first returned to his Myrmidons and cheered them with loud cries of “Forward, man to man! Let none hold back! I cannot alone conquer the whole Trojan army, even Mars himself could not do that. But my lance shall never rest.”
Among the Trojans the gallant Hector was going about encouraging his bands. “Do not fear, ye valiant Trojans, because the enemy has gained a single man to-day. Grim Achilles has certainly uttered great threats, but words are not deeds. Behold, I go forward to encounter him unafraid, though his hand were a bolt of lightning and his breast of bronze.”
Achilles had already broken into the ranks of the Trojans and slain a man here and there. He was like a hungry wolf hasting from one victim to another. His lance was constantly in flight. He pierced the noble Demoleon, then laid his charioteer Hippodamos in the dust, then drawing his spear from the body, he hurled it after Polydorus, Priam’s youngest son, whom his father had begged not to enter the fight. But the youth, considered the best runner in the army, was passionate and fiery and would not be restrained. Just as he was flying past, Achilles’ terrible spear struck him. He fell, groaning and holding his wounded side. Thus his brother Hector espied him and in a passion of grief he advanced upon Achilles, swinging his lance like flashing lightning.
Seeing him coming thus, Achilles cried: “Ah! there is he who killed my friend! Come, Hector, come, that thou mayest meet thy doom!” He had scarcely spoken when Hector stood before him and answered unabashed: “Do not hope to intimidate me with words, O Achilles! Even if thou art stronger than I, it rests with the gods to decide whether I shall not rob thee of thy life.”
He threw the lance with all his might, but it glanced off Achilles’ hard-polished shield. He turned about, frightened, and fled like the wind before the hero’s hissing spear. “Ah! truly Phœbus must be with thee,” cried Achilles. “Destruction was hard upon thee and thou hast escaped. But the next time I meet thee I shall send thee down to Hades.” He glanced about angrily for other adversaries.
See, now his chariot pursues a band of Trojans who prefer to flee all together rather than meet this single man. He pressed forward to one side, cutting them off from the rest of the army and driving them all into the river. There they paddled about like swimming poodles until Achilles, leaving his lance on the bank, sprang after them to stab those whom he could reach with his sword. Finally he drove twelve youths into the reeds and there bound their hands behind their backs with his armor straps. He then led them out and gave them into the hands of his charioteer to take back to the Myrmidons. They were destined for a cruel sacrifice to Patroclus.
Achilles turned again to the river and there he recognized with astonishment, among those who were trying in vain to clamber up the steep banks, a youth, son of Priam, named Lykaon, whom he had taken at the beginning of the war and sold for one hundred oxen into Lemnos. Some years later a rich Phrygian had purchased him, from whom he had but lately escaped, having returned only eleven days before to the house of his venerable father. “Ha! there is Lykaon!” cried Achilles in surprise. “How comes he here? This time he shall taste the tip of my spear and we shall see if he return from the underworld to cause me trouble again.” He went to fetch his spear and Lykaon swam as hard as he could to throw himself at his feet and beg for mercy.
“Fool!” thundered the terrible voice of the hero, “what do I want with ransom money? Before Patroclus fell I was inclined to show mercy and carried away many captives, but now not one who falls into my hands shall survive—least of all one of Priam’s sons. Die then, my friend! Thou criest out in vain. Patroclus, too, had to die, who was far mightier than thou. And seest thou not how great and powerful I am? My father was a noble king, a goddess is my mother, and yet my death and doom are drawing near and sooner or later I shall fall by the spear or arrow.”
The poor youth’s heart and knees trembled. He spread out his arms, shut his eyes, and thus received the death stroke. Then Achilles seized him by the feet and flung him far out into the river. “There! Swim among the fish,” he cried. “Many a one shall feed on Lykaon. Thus I shall pursue ye all, until ye have atoned for Patroclus’ death and the woe of the Achaians.”
But the river god who heard this blasphemy was angered. Asteropæus, son of Pelegon, was still standing in the water and Scamander breathed courage into him. He was practised in casting with both hands and Achilles saw him advancing with two raised spears. He shouted to him: “Who art thou, rash man? Unhappy are the parents of those who contend with me!”
“What wouldst thou know of me, great Pelide?” he answered. “I came from distant Pæonia with a gallant army but eleven days ago. Now let us fight, valiant Achilles.”
With these words he let fly both lances at once upon the hero. One of them rebounded harmlessly from the shield, the other brushed his left elbow and buried itself in the sand. And now Achilles swung his bloody staff, but missed aim also, and his lance struck the sandy bank on the other side of the river. Angrily he sprang into the water with drawn sword, and striding powerfully through the waves, he approached the unlucky Asteropæus, who was trying in vain to secure Achilles’ lance. Before he could do so the hero felled him, and he sank down unconscious.
“Ah,” he cried joyously, “thou couldst scarcely contend with a man of Jupiter’s divine race, although thy ancestor was a river god.”
Achilles drew his spear out of the earth and left the dying man gasping at the water’s edge. He threw himself next upon a troop of Pæonians and drove them into the stream. Those who would not go of their own accord he thrust down into a watery grave. Then from the depths of the stream he heard the voice of the river god: “O Achilles, thou art superhuman in thy fury and the gods are always with thee. But I warn thee, that if Jupiter hath given the Trojans into thy hand this day, murder where thou wilt, but do not pollute my waters, for my stream is already glutted with the dead, and even now I can scarce flow down into the holy sea. Therefore forbear!”
Achilles heard the warning unmoved and replied: “It shall be as thou sayest, divine Scamander, but I shall never stop destroying the Trojans until I have fought the last decisive battle with Hector.”
But when he chanced upon a fresh troop of the enemy, who were astray near the river, he forgot the river god’s decree, and when they all jumped into the stream to gain the opposite shore he plunged in after them. Then the invisible god arose in his might, determined to destroy him. He sent wave after wave breaking over him and drew him deeper and deeper down. Struggle as he might he could make no headway against the mighty stream on whose waves he rose and fell, almost losing his balance and being carried away. The bodies of the slain bore against him and he could scarcely hold them back with his shield. He struggled to the shore, but the angry god stirred up a foaming surf which threw him back again.
Almost exhausted he struggled forward once more and grasped a young elm whose branches hung over the stream; but just as he was about to swing himself up by it the roots gave way, so that it lay across the river like a bridge. Upon this the hero reached the bank, although he vainly hoped to escape the river god thus. Furiously Scamander followed him across the fallow fields with breaking waves. He also called to his aid the other streams who generally dash their waters from the mountain heights to destroy the farmer’s fields only in springtime. To the Simoïs, which joins him just before he flows into the sea, he cried: “Come, brother, and help me stem the power of this terrible man, else he will batter down the walls of Priam’s fortress to-day; for none can withstand him. Arise, friend, let thy floods loose; roll down rocks and stones with thundering waves upon him, that we may tame him. For I ween that neither his strength nor beauty nor his resplendent weapons shall save him. They shall be buried deep in mud, and him will I cover with sand and heap a monument of shells and pebbles over him so high that none shall ever find his bones.”
The hero was almost overcome and in his despair cried aloud: “Father Jupiter, not a single one of the gods will take pity on me, and I thought ye all loved me! But none has deceived me more than my divine mother, who promised me the glorious death of a hero before Troy. And now, alas, an ignoble end awaits me, and I shall be drowned as ignominiously as any swineherd in a mud puddle.”
Then from afar a solemn and consoling voice arose. “Be comforted, Peleus’ son, thou shalt not die in the waters. Keep up the struggle until the Trojans have fled the field. But when Hector is vanquished thou shalt return.”
This promise filled his heart with courage, for it was the voice of Poseidon, to whom all streams are subject. And now the waters quickly subsided and were drawn into the broad gulf of the sea. Then a south wind arose which sucked up the moisture from the ground and bore it away. The valiant hero soon stood upon firm ground again and hurried away as fast as he could to plunge into the fray. Fired by his example, his people followed him like a consuming flame fanned by the wind. All who could do so fled to the walls, most of them toward the gate. The venerable Priam sat upon the top of the wall, looking mournfully down upon the sad plight of his people. When the crush at the gate became intolerable he descended and called to the guards: “Friends, open the doors and let the men in, for they can no longer withstand the terrible Pelide. When all are inside, shut the gate and put up the bars, that the enemy may not enter also.”
In the confusion of flight, where none wished to be lost, Achilles and his band would doubtless have pushed in with them had not Apollo distracted his attention by the sight of Agenor. This bold youth stood concealed behind a beech tree turning over a thousand projects in his anxious mind. “What shall I do?” he said to himself. “I am too far behind to follow the others—he would take me in the back like a coward. If I try to creep along the wall and escape by way of the thickets of Ida, the bushes may hide me; then I could steal up to the gate at night and whisper to them softly to let me in. But what if he should discover me there? Then I should be lost indeed; for who is as strong as he? But his body is not invulnerable and he is a mortal like the others. Therefore I will try my skill with him, that I may save my life with honor.”
Meanwhile Achilles came running up and espied the man hidden behind the tree. Agenor stepped boldly forth and cried: “Madman, dost thou hope to destroy the fortress to-day? Nevermore! There are still plenty of brave men in the city, and all are fighting for parents, wives, and children. On the contrary, thy own sad fate may be upon thee to-day, thou ungovernable monster.”
With these words his flashing sword descended upon Achilles, and not without effect. He struck his shin, and only the impenetrable greaves fashioned by Vulcan prevented the leg from being shattered. Like a wounded boar Achilles pounced upon the youth, who fled through wheatfields and thickets along the river, leading his grim pursuer far away from the city; for he did not give up the chase until the youth was lost to sight. And this never would have occurred had the blow on his leg not sapped his strength. But Apollo had arranged it thus, so that for this time the Trojans should escape; for when he returned breathless he found them safe behind their walls.
The Achaians, their shields slung over their shoulders, were awaiting Achilles close under the walls of Troy. All the Trojans were within the city except Hector, who had remained outside, resolved to meet Achilles once more in combat; for he believed that he owed it to his fatherland and to his own honor, either to free his people from this dread enemy or to give up his own life for them. His old father looked gloomily down from the wall and signalled for him to come inside, but in vain.
Achilles returned from his pursuit of Agenor, his lance on his shoulder. At the sight old Priam beat his breast in consternation and he trembled, seeing his son without and alone. “Dear son,” he entreated, “do not face that cruel man, for he is stronger than thou. Alas, would that the gods hated him as I do and he would soon be food for the dogs! How many of my sons he has already murdered or sold to distant isles! And now, my Hector, thou on whom the Trojan people put their hopes, wilt thou also go to meet him? Come, take pity on me! Already hath Jupiter heaped endless misfortunes upon mine old age, and should he rob me of thee now, I already foresee the enemy breaking into our fortress, carrying off our women, murdering our children, and plundering our treasures. Woe is me! for I shall become food for mine own dogs in the courtyard. Alas, that would be the most lamentable of all destinies!”
But Hector could not be persuaded and remained steadfast at the gate, awaiting Achilles. “Woe is me if I should hide now behind walls and gates!” he said. “Then Polydamas could chide me with reason for sacrificing so many good friends to-day. I would not follow his advice and retire into the city, but presumed to contend with Achilles alone, and alas, I have not saved a single man from his fury and, I openly avow, have myself avoided him in fear, for he is truly terrible in his might. But now I must challenge fate boldly, that the women of Troy may not denounce me for leading the people to destruction and then fleeing like a coward. But how would it be if I should lay helmet and shield on the ground beside my lance and thus go to meet the hero and offer him a peaceful settlement? Offer him Helen and all their treasure, together with half of all the goods which the houses of the Trojan princes contain? But no! I cannot approach him a suppliant. It would be base and unworthy and he would strike me down unarmed like a weak woman. No! I will fight like a man. Be my fate what it may, I will conquer or die with honor.”
Achilles came up looking like Mars himself. When Hector saw him he trembled, and fled like a dove pursued by a hawk. Hector turned first to the left, then to the right, striving to tire out his pursuer; but in vain. Now they ran past the watch tower, now past the fig tree, and now by the hot springs, where were the stone basins of the washerwomen. His pursuer drove him clear round the great city, yea, even three times round the walls, and as often as Hector tried to slip through an open portal, Achilles would drive him out again into the open fields, keeping near the walls himself. But when they passed the place where the Achaians were resting on their spears awaiting the outcome, Achilles forbade anyone to cast a spear at Hector and rob him of the honor of the victory.
As they neared the hot springs for the fourth time, a man ran forward as though to offer Hector aid. It was Athena in the form of Hector’s brother Deïphobus, who called to him: “Brother, I saw thy danger and am come forth to help thee. Stop and await him boldly.”
“Beloved Deïphobus, how didst thou dare—”
“My soul was wrung and I could no longer look upon the grief of my father and mother.”
“So be it, I will fight,” said Hector, and made ready to meet the foe. “I will no longer flee before thee, O Pelide,” he cried to Achilles. “My heart bids me encounter thee, whether I conquer or fall. But let us first make a compact and swear to it before the all-seeing gods. Should Jupiter give me the victory, I will not misuse thee. Thy armor will I take and leave thy body to the Achaians, that they may give it burial. And thou shalt do the same to me.”
But with a furious look Achilles roared his answer. “No compacts, hated Hector! Does the lion make a compact with the cattle, or the wolf with the lambs? One of us must lie stretched upon the ground, that Mars may be satiated with his blood. I hope that thou mayest not escape me, and thus atone at once for all the woe thou hast inflicted on my people.”
Thus speaking, he sent his terrible spear flying through the air. But Hector, quickly sinking on one knee, avoided it and the iron missile passed over him. Fresh courage filled him, and springing up joyfully he cried: “Wide of the mark, godlike Achilles! Thou art a good talker and crafty, hoping I should lose strength and courage. Now protect thyself, for my spear shall not strike thee lightly!”
He hurled his lance with tremendous force and did not miss the mark, for the point struck the boss of the shield with a loud crash and would have pierced both shield and breast had the shield not been forged by Vulcan himself. But the lance rebounded like a ball thrown against a wall and Hector stood confounded, for he had but one spear. He quickly looked about for Deïphobus and called loudly for another spear, but there was no answer and his brother was nowhere to be seen. Then he was filled with foreboding. “Woe is me!” he cried. “Some cunning god in Deïphobus’ shape hath deceived me, and now, when I hoped he would save me, he has disappeared.” In desperation he seized his sword, rushing forward like a soaring eagle swooping down upon its prey. But Achilles had already picked up Hector’s spear, and, as they charged each other, the long spear reached its goal sooner than the short sword. Taken in the neck above his breastplate, the hope of Troy sank into the dust, while the cruel victor and all the Achaians loudly rejoiced.
“Ha!” cried Achilles as he drew forth his spear, “only yesterday thou wert so proudly triumphant, as thou didst invade our ships in Patroclus’ stolen harness, and to-day thou liest powerless before the walls of thy proud fortress. Surely thou didst little dream that the slain hero had left a powerful avenger. We shall pay him all the honors of a hero, while thou shalt make a shameful end among the dogs and birds of prey.”
Breathing painfully, Hector tried to speak. “I conjure thee by thy life and by thy parents, let me not be torn by Damæan dogs, but accept the bronze and valuable gold which my father and mother shall offer thee. Send my body to Ilios, that the men and women of Troy may pay me the last honors of the funeral pyre.” But Achilles shouted: “Silence and die, contemptible one!”