They were all silent until the gray-haired Phœnix began to speak. “If thou hast determined to return, noble Achilles, how can I part from thee, my son, for thy father confided thee to my care? Thy splendid deeds have made me proud and happy; but now, forgive me, godlike Achilles, now thy obstinate and unreasonable behavior grieves me. Calm thy rage. A gentle disposition well becomes the hero, and even the anger of the gods can be placated. How often have we seen them appeased by sacrifices and penitential prayers. Yea, woe unto him who listens not to repentant supplication and who hardens his heart against the enemy who is ready to make atonement. Behold what gifts Agamemnon offers to win thee. What is the wrong thou hast suffered in comparison with this great honor? The ancient heroes of whom our fathers tell certainly were subject to fits of anger, but they also allowed themselves to be conciliated.”
“Phœnix, honored sire,” answered Achilles, “do not disturb my soul with lamentations; rather as my friend shouldst thou hate him who hath wronged me. But now repose thyself. As soon as dawn appears we will take counsel whether to go or stay.” With a secret sign he bade Patroclus prepare a soft couch for Phœnix.
Hastily Ajax arose, saying: “Let us be going, for we can scarce expect to persuade this hard-hearted man, and our friends are awaiting us anxiously. Cruel man, to cause all thy friends to suffer for one. How oft have anger and revenge for a murdered brother been forgotten when the murderer has offered gifts and tokens of repentance. But thou hast a stony and implacable heart in thy bosom, and all this on account of a girl. Oh be persuaded! We have come here as thy old friends.”
“Ajax, godlike son of Telamon,” answered Achilles, “thou hast read my soul. But my heart is full of bitterness when I think of the man who treated me so vilely before the Argives. Go and bear him the message. I will not take up arms until the firebrands of the Trojans fall upon my own ships. Terrible as he is, I think Hector will not venture near my tents.” Perceiving that their eloquence was unavailing, the ambassadors returned to Agamemnon’s tent. Phœnix, however, remained with Achilles.
The Greek princes were much cast down at the answer to their mission. Only Diomedes was able to keep up their courage by his unshakable confidence. “Atreus’ son,” he cried, “would thou hadst never implored help of the Pelide or offered him rich presents. He was proud enough before. Let him go or come; he will take up his lance as soon as his heart speaks. But do thou, King Agamemnon, as soon as Eos’ rosy fingers paint the sky, array thine horsemen and thy cohorts in front of the ships and place thyself at the front. Let us now to rest, for it is late and to-morrow we fight for our lives.”
All agreed. The goblets were filled once more, a libation poured out to the gods, and then they separated, each one going to his own tent.
Morning had scarcely dawned when Agamemnon called all to arms, appearing in the foremost ranks clad in his most splendid armor and determined to fight more heroically this day than ever before. The great mass of foot-soldiers pressed forward in long lines shouting their battle cries, the war chariots containing the leaders following after them.
At last the two armies met and whole ranks of men fell like grain before the reaper’s scythe. For some hours each side held its own, but toward noon the Achaians broke through the enemy’s lines and forced them back. As soon as the ranks were broken and bodies of men began to scatter in little groups over the plain, the charioteers had room for action and dashed forward to terrorize the foot-soldiers.
Agamemnon was among the foremost, hurling his deadly lance continually at the Trojan princes. Two young and beautiful sons of Priam, both in one chariot, fell before him, and he took their accoutrements and horses. Next two sons of Antimachus came his way and received no quarter at his hands. He stood with bloody arm uplifted, swinging his lance, ready to strike down any who approached him. The Trojans fled in multitudes at the sound of his lionlike voice, and amid the wild confusion one could see frightened horses, with empty chariots trailing behind them, galloping back toward the city. Agamemnon and the other chieftains were relentlessly pursuing the flying Trojans, and as a lion following a herd of cattle will fasten his cruel claws into the necks of those which fall behind, thus the Achaians struck down many a fleeing warrior.
It was now Hector’s care to stop the rout and bring order into the ranks once more at the city gates. He implored, he admonished, he scolded and threatened, and thus drove them back again after a brief rest. Shamed by his words, the young princes sought out the most dangerous antagonists to show their valor. Iphidamas, son of Antenor, was even anxious to contend with Agamemnon himself, who, however, saw him coming and was the first to cast his lance. But the youth dodged the missile and ran quickly at him with his own spear and would surely have run him through had the brazen coat not bent the point of the weapon and broken the force of the blow. Agamemnon seized hold of the youth’s lance with his powerful left hand and forced both him and it down, while, with a sudden blow of his sword, he cut off the youth’s head. A servant soon stripped him and carried off the armor.
Koon, Antenor’s second son, who had seen his brother’s fall, called some of his companions together to avenge him. They approached Agamemnon unobserved and Koon cast his spear, which struck the hero’s arm, wounding him so that the warm blood spurted forth. The youth was triumphant, for although Agamemnon did not fall, he saw him stagger backward. He wished to make use of this moment to carry off his brother’s body, but as he was bending over it, Agamemnon’s spear entered his side, and before he could recover himself Agamemnon had sprung upon him and cut off his head. The hero then turned away and attacked another body of the enemy, slaying many. As long as the warm blood continued to gush out he did not notice his wound, but when it began to dry, he could no longer endure the pain and was obliged to retire from the field. He mounted his chariot, admonishing the Achaians once more to fight bravely, and then drove rapidly away to his tent to have his wound dressed.
His departure revived the sinking courage of the Trojans. Hector pressed forward and the Achaians, abandoned by their courageous leader, turned to flee, as the Trojans had done before. The young princes sought to measure their strength against Hector, but only paid for their temerity with their lives. Seeing this, Ulysses’ heart burned with rage. He called Diomedes and said: “Son of Tydeus, let us fight together against that terrible man. It would be a shame should plumed Hector take our great ships from us.”
“Gladly will I tarry here,” answered his friend surlily; “but much good will it do us, for Jove, the Thunderer, does not intend the victory for us, but for the Trojans.” However, they set forth together and plunged amongst the swarms of soldiers like two raging lions, driving them backward, as waves are whipped by the wind. Hector saw this from afar and quick as a flash he bore down upon them in his chariot, sprang to earth, and met the heroes on foot.
“Look,” cried Diomedes to Ulysses when he saw him; “there cometh our destruction. But let us stand firm, we will not flee.”
They stood awaiting him with their lances in position, and at the moment when Hector emerged from the crowd Diomedes’ spear struck his helmet with such force that he was thrown stunned to the ground. But the weapon had not wounded him, for his iron helmet was not broken, and before Diomedes had time to rush upon him with his sword, Hector had jumped up and plunged back into the crowd. Ulysses’ lance had missed the mark, and before the two had recovered their weapons Hector was safely on his chariot. Diomedes stamped his foot with rage. He now set upon the enemy more murderously than ever, and as he drove them back and was nearing the tomb of the old Trojan King Ilus, he was met by Paris, who stayed his mad impetuosity. Hiding behind a pillar of the tomb, he let fly one of his never-failing arrows, which struck Diomedes, pinning his foot to the ground. He saw the hero falter and stand still and sprang from his hiding place crying in triumph: “Ha! it was a good shot. But how gladly would I have pierced a vital part and taken thy life!”
“Miserable coward!” roared Diomedes. “Hadst thou met me in the open thy bow and arrow had helped thee little. And now thou boastest as though thou hadst conquered me, and it is but a scratch. It is as though a mosquito had stung me. Woe unto thee when I catch thee!” However, the wound was troublesome enough, for he could not stand on his foot, and Paris would perhaps have ventured to shoot a second arrow, if Ulysses had not come up in the nick of time. He placed himself in front of his friend and covered him with his shield, while Diomedes sat on the ground and drew the arrow out of his foot, which caused him sharp pain. He then called for his charioteer and drove back to the ships, his heart full of bitterness.
Ulysses remained behind alone, for his companions had retreated in terror, and now he found himself suddenly surrounded by the Trojans. He could not escape and resolved to sell his life dearly with the blood of his enemies. He met their attack like a wild boar at bay, and so savage was his onslaught that the enemy, surprised, stood still and none dared come near him. But when he had stabbed Charops, the noble son of Hippasus, his brother Socus, full of grief and anger, stepped boldly forward to avenge him, crying: “Murderous Ulysses, either thou shalt boast that thou hast slain both of Hippasus’ sons or thou shalt die by my hand!” With this he threw himself upon Ulysses with his spear and did actually pierce the shield and coat of mail, tearing the flesh and causing him to start back. But when Ulysses felt that the wound was not mortal, he quickly hurled his own lance, crying: “Miserable man, thou too art destined to fall this day by my hand!” Socus shrieked aloud, for the weapon had pierced clean through his breast.
On the other side of the battlefield the fighting was equally fierce. Hector and Paris were busy with spear and bow. Paris wounded the venerable Machaon, a good soldier and much prized for his surgical skill, for he had saved many lives. Therefore his friends were anxious about him and Nestor lifted him into his chariot and drove quickly away with him to camp. There they dismounted to refresh themselves in the cool breeze from the sea and to dry their damp clothing. Then they entered Nestor’s tent, where he bound up his friend’s wound and gave him food. While they were eating Patroclus entered the tent. Achilles had sent him to inquire who the wounded man was whom he had seen brought in by Nestor’s chariot. For Achilles was accustomed, when the Greeks were fighting, to station himself on the high deck of his vessel to watch the fray, not without regrets that he was condemned to idleness; often his hand would grasp his sword involuntarily. His joy over the overthrow of the Achaians was the sweetest revenge he had for his wounded pride.
“Ah, here is Patroclus,” cried Nestor. “Enter, friend, and sit down with us. I have not seen thee for a long time.”
“Do not press me, venerable sir,” answered Patroclus. “I may not remain, for I must take the tidings to Achilles for which he has sent me, and now that I have seen Machaon I must away. Thou well knowest how impatient he is.”
But Nestor continued: “We thought that Achilles was no longer interested in our fate. And hast thou, his friend and companion, no influence with him? Canst thou not win him with persuasive words and tame his proud heart? That was what thy good father expected.” Patroclus was moved by his words, and promising to do what he could, took his leave.
Once more the Achaians were obliged to take refuge behind the walls of the camp. Hector, followed by the victorious Trojans, drove all before him. When the greater part of the Achaians had reached the shelter of the gate, Hector gave orders that all the charioteers should leave their chariots and lead their bands on foot across the moat, for he was determined to climb or tear down the flimsy walls. Hector was successful, although there was a fearful struggle at the wall. The Achaians defended their last stand with desperate courage, while the Trojans were just as determined to accomplish their purpose of driving the enemy from their coasts and burning their ships that day.
Thus far Jupiter seemed to aid the Trojans, for a terrible gale arose which blinded the eyes of the Achaians with dust, though they still fought manfully on and Hector was not able to accomplish his purpose. Two Lycian youths, Sarpedon and Glaucus, met outside the wall, resolved to shed glory upon their people by their bravery and enterprise. They sought to break down the wall at a spot defended by Menestheus, and their first onslaught was so savage that the Greek looked about him for help. He sent a messenger to Ajax and Teucer to come quickly to his aid, and they came running up with spear and bow. Ajax threw a stone which killed Sarpedon’s attendant, who was already on top of the wall. Next Glaucus climbed up, but received Teucer’s arrow in his arm, which incapacitated him for further fighting. He got down very quietly, so that the Achaians should not observe his misfortune, pausing to cast one more spear, which did its deadly work. Then he drove back to the city.
At last Sarpedon succeeded in making the first breach in the top of the breastworks, and under repeated blows the rest followed. This made the wall so low at this place that the soldiers could shoot over it, and here the hottest fighting now took place. It was impossible to move Sarpedon from his position. After a long struggle Hector came up, saw the breach, and cried joyfully: “Forward, ye Trojan horsemen, break through the Argives’ wall and cast burning brands into the ships!” He raised a mighty stone in both arms, and although it was so heavy that two of the strongest men could not have lifted it or even have loaded it on a wagon with crowbars, Hector bore it as easily as a shepherd might carry a bundle of shorn wool, and with feet planted firmly wide apart, he hurled it with such force against the gateway that the bolts cracked, the hinges gave way, and the gate flew wide open. He sprang triumphantly into the intrenchments, followed by the shouting Trojans. The frightened Achaians hurried away to defend their ships. The cries and confusion were indescribable. The Achaians were in despair. Nothing remained for them but to save their ships, and placing themselves in front of them in long rows with lances set, they thus awaited the final onset of the Trojans.
Each now forgot his own distress and all worked together, and soon a solid chain of armed men surrounded the ships like a wall. Hector himself, like a mighty rock which falls from the mountain top and plunges from ledge to ledge until it rests upon the plain, could get no farther, but was obliged to pause before the wall of lances. He tried to encourage his men by promising them great rewards. Now they believed that the last decisive moment had come and that before night it would be seen whether the gods had determined on the destruction of the Achaians or of Troy. But Jupiter was but favoring the Trojans in order to please Achilles and his mother, Thetis. Fate had already decreed that Troy was to fall, and even the gods could not change this decision, for they too were subject to the laws of iron necessity. As soon as Agamemnon had been sufficiently punished and Achilles could be persuaded to join the ranks of fighting Achaians, the destruction of the mighty city was to be expected.
As soon as the Achaians had intrenched themselves they grew bolder and began a fearless attack. Idomeneus charged the Trojans, followed by his brave Cretans. As the hurricane raises dark clouds of dust between the battle lines, thus the ironclad cohorts moved hurriedly forward and threw themselves on a party of the enemy. Idomeneus himself sought an antagonist among the princes, and now he chanced upon Othryoneus, who had just joined the Trojans with his squadron and had a reputation for great bravery. He had wooed Priam’s most beautiful daughter, not with the customary gifts, but instead had promised his aid in driving the Achaians out of Asia. Priam had given his word, and the young hero was just beginning the struggle for the lovely prize when Idomeneus’ spear put a sudden end to his life.
The battle raged fiercest on the right side of the camp where Hector was fighting. He was determined, in spite of the heroes who opposed him, to capture and burn the ships. All the fury of war was displayed on this spot—rage, despair, revenge, wild cries, fear, horror, and flight. The ground was slippery with the blood of the fallen; there was now no time to remove the corpses of the slain. The Trojans were the first to lose courage. Even Hector dared not keep his post where Ajax, Ulysses, and Idomeneus stood together like a wall, but sought out weaker adversaries and contented himself by answering the challenge of the two Ajaxes with insults and boasts.
“Why dost thou seek to frighten the common soldiers?” called the elder Ajax to him. “Drive us back if thou canst! Thou wouldst gladly take our ships, wouldst thou not? But I tell thee that thy proud Troy shall sooner sink into ashes than our fleet, and thou shalt sooner turn thy face homeward in flight than triumph over us.”
At this moment an eagle flew high over the heads of the Achaians toward the right and, delighted with the omen, they had confidence in Ajax’s words. But Hector answered him defiantly: “Miserable boaster, what foolishness is this! Would I were but as certainly a son of Jupiter as that to-day will bring destruction upon ye all. And woe to thee shouldst thou stand before my spear! It would tear thy delicate body and give thy blood to the dogs.” He then dashed away with his band to enter the battle at another point. All were intimidated where he appeared, and the battle cries of the Trojans surrounding him rose high into the air.
The Greek heroes who had been wounded on the morning of this unlucky day and had been obliged to retire from the fight had remained in their tents in great discouragement, caring for their wounds. Nestor still sat with Machaon, and after he had tended him and given him food and drink he arose restlessly and said to his wounded friend: “My dear fellow, let me go and see what our fortunes are. The shouts of the warriors seem louder at the wall.”
He took a shield and lance and went out. Alas, what a sight met his eyes! The wall was half demolished, the gateway shattered, the Trojans inside the intrenchments, and such wild confusion prevailed that one could not tell friend from foe. He sighed deeply and considered for a moment whether he should go down into the turmoil or seek Agamemnon in his tent. He chose the latter course. But as he turned in the direction of the kings’ ships, the wounded lords, Tydeus’ son Diomedes, Ulysses, and Agamemnon, came toward him with slow steps, leaning on their lances and sick with wounds.
“Nestor, Neleus’ son,” cried Agamemnon, “whence comest thou and why didst thou leave the field? Alas, I fear that all will come to pass as Hector has threatened; that the Trojans will not rest until our ships are burned and our people destroyed. The Achaians hate and curse me as Achilles hates me, for it is I who have led them into this misery. No doubt they are now deserting or sitting brooding beside the ships.”
“What has been, even Jupiter cannot change,” answered Nestor. “But let us consider what is still to be done.”
“Then let me tell thee what I think,” said Agamemnon. “As we are at the end of our resources, my advice is that as soon as it is dark we launch our ships and sail away while the Trojans are asleep. Let them call us cowards! It is better to escape thus than to be destroyed.”
“What words are these, O Atride,” said Ulysses, frowning. “Thou shouldst have led an army of deserters hither, instead of commanding men like us, who have been taught from early youth to support the hardships of war unto death. What? Dost thou really intend to save thyself by stealing away like a thief in the night? Hush! That no one else may hear such unbecoming words!”
Agamemnon answered him: “Ulysses, I feel thy stern rebuke deeply, and I would not have the Argives launch the ships against their will. If anyone can give better counsel, let us hear it.”
Now Diomedes began to speak. “It is not far to seek if thou wilt listen to me. I am indeed the youngest here, but as well born as any, and I think Jupiter hath given me courage and strength for manly deeds. My advice, then, is that we return to the battlefield, not to fight, for our wounds prevent that, but in order to encourage the others.”
This speech pleased all and they followed him straight to the place of combat. Just as they arrived there they were met by Poseidon in the figure of an elderly warrior, who grasped the right hand of the ruler and said: “Take courage, brave Atride, the immortal gods will not be angry with thee forever. Thou shalt surely see the day when the Trojans will retreat in defeat to their city and their heroes fall before our lance thrusts.”
With these words the old man returned to the fight and with encouraging words spurred on the hesitating soldiers to renewed effort. His voice resounded over the battlefield like the shouting of a thousand men and the Achaians obeyed it. The princes gazed after him in astonishment, for his kingly figure was unknown to them. They suspected that it was a god come to encourage them. Through hatred of the Trojans, Poseidon was secretly aiding the Achaians contrary to the express commands of Jupiter. But it would have gone hard with him if the son of Cronos, who was looking down on the battlefield from Mount Ida, had discovered him at once. Juno contrived a scheme to prevent this for a while at least. She went to Aphrodite and said coaxingly: “Wilt thou grant me a favor, or refuse it because thou art resentful of my aiding the Achaians, whilst thou art for the Trojans?”
Aphrodite graciously answered: “Mighty Juno, speak. What dost thou desire? If I can grant it I will do so.”
Then Juno said cunningly: “Give me thy magic girdle of love and longing, which inclines the hearts of gods and men to thee. I wish to visit old grandfather Oceanus, who has quarrelled with his spouse Thetis, and try if I may not reconcile them.”
“How could I refuse thee my help?” answered the goddess. “Here, take it, and mayest thou be successful.”
Smiling happily, Juno took the magic girdle and hastened to her chamber. She bathed her delicate body, anointed it with ambrosial oil, and arranged her hair in shining ringlets. She then put on the fine long robe which Athena had woven for her, closed it with golden clasps on her breast, and wound the magic girdle about her waist. Beautiful earrings, a shimmering veil, and golden sandals completed the splendid dress. Juno now hastened over the heights of Olympus and across the mountains and streams of earth to Lemnos, where she found Sleep, the brother of Death. He was indispensable to her in carrying out the trick she had planned, so she took him graciously by the hand and said: “Mighty Sleep, who tamest gods and men, if thou wouldst ever do me a service, do it now and I shall be forever grateful. My son Hephæstus shall fashion thee an indestructible seat, whose cushions are always soft, and it shall be shining with gold and have a comfortable footstool for thy feet.”
A smile like a ray of sunshine lit up the god’s face. Nothing could have tempted him more. Yawning he asked: “What dost thou want of me, honored goddess?”
“Come with me and put the father of the gods to sleep for a short time,” she said. “And to make it easier for thee, I will beguile him with sweet speeches.”
“Thou askest a hard thing,” answered Sleep. “Anyone else I would dare approach, even ever-flowing old Oceanus; but Jupiter, the Terrible, I cannot venture near unless he calls for me himself. Only remember how he raged the time I deceived him at thy behest, when thou didst pursue his dear son Hercules with storms, with intent to imprison him on the island of Kos. All Olympus trembled at his wrath, and I should have been lost had Night not protected me out of friendship.”
Juno replied: “Dost thou suppose the father of the gods cares as much for the Trojans as he did for his dear son? No indeed! As thy reward I promise thee for thy wife the fairest of the Graces, whom thou hast so long desired.”
“Then swear it,” cried Sleep, overjoyed, “that I may trust thee, and I will do thy bidding instantly.”
The goddess touched the earth with one hand and the sea with the other and swore by the River Styx and by the gods of the underworld. Then they both passed over the sea to Phrygia. Juno went straight up Ida, while Sleep, in the form of a nighthawk, slowly circled about the mountain top and hid himself in the branches of a tall pine tree.
When Jupiter saw his consort he was greatly astonished. His dear wife had never appeared so lovely to him before. She had Juno’s eyes, but Aphrodite’s soulful glance; Juno’s voice, but the words seemed to come from the heart of the goddess of love. The masterful, rebellious Juno, become gentle, kind, tender, and modest, so surprised him that he immediately forgot all his past grievances against her and gave himself up to the sweet delusion that this change would last forever. And now Juno became so confiding and affectionate that her lord forgot the Trojans and in looking at her his back was turned to them, so that he could not see his disobedient brother Poseidon. At last she made secret signs to the bird lurking in the pine branches to encompass the happy one with his outspread wings, and he was soon peacefully at rest. Sleep then flew quickly down to Poseidon to tell him that Jupiter was slumbering and that it was now time to aid the Achaians in earnest.
Then the sea god in the shape of an old warrior went up and down the ranks preaching courage. Under his leadership the people charged forward like a hurricane beating against a forest. Many men fell, most of them Trojans. Hector knew not that a god was opposing him, so he did not give way and still expected victory. But he soon met his doom. He had just cast his lance in vain at Ajax, and was about to pick up a stone, when Ajax quickly hurled a great piece of rock, which struck the hero under his shield and he fell back breathless. Shield and stone dropped from his hands and he tumbled over in the sand. Ajax and his friends were about to come up and strip him, but at this moment the bravest Trojan princes, Æneas, Polydamas, Agenor, and the valiant Lycians, Sarpedon and Glaucus, surrounded him, all covering him with their shields at once, until some of the servants lifted him on their shoulders and carried him to his chariot. When the chariot crossed the ford of the little River Scamander or Xanthus, the friends lifted down the moaning and still unconscious hero, laid him on the ground, and sprinkled him with water. He revived, opened his eyes, and wanted to arise, so they took hold of his arms and lifted him to a kneeling position. A stream of dark blood burst from his lips and he sank into unconsciousness again.
The news of Hector’s fall was greeted with loud rejoicing in the Achaian army. Their old courage returned and Poseidon’s presence worked wonders of heroism. The Trojans retreated farther and farther and few of the leaders fought alone. Victory now inclined toward the side of the Achaians, for Hector lay wounded on the banks of the Xanthus and the gods no longer fought for Troy. Thus the Trojans soon found themselves again near the city walls and even forced behind them.
Jupiter awoke and rubbed his eyes. His first glance sought the ships. How changed was the situation! “Ha, Juno,” he cried angrily, “this is thy work, deceitful, malicious woman! So that was the meaning of thy caresses, thy friendliness and sweet talk, false serpent. Of what use is it to chastise thee? Hast thou already forgotten thy punishment when thou didst send a storm to drive my son Hercules into imprisonment on Kos and I made thee swing on a chain twixt heaven and earth with an anvil fastened to each foot? Suppose that now I were to—”
“Heaven and Earth are my witnesses, and I will even swear it by the Styx, that Poseidon did not go into the battle at my behest,” said the affrighted goddess. “I do not know whether the Achaians have persuaded him to it or his own heart. Rather would I counsel him to go whithersoever thou commandest.”
The father of gods and men answered, smiling grimly: “If thou wert of my mind, regal Juno, Poseidon would certainly soon change his course. But now call Iris quickly and Apollo of the bow, that they may descend and command Poseidon to leave the battlefield and return to his palace.”
The lily-armed Juno willingly obeyed, though she still meditated mischief in her heart. She drove quickly to high Olympus, where she found the immortals in the banquet hall. Craftily she spoke to them. “It is useless to seek to change Jupiter’s decrees,” she said. “Little he cares for us, for he feels himself high above us all in strength and power. Only just now I saw Ascalaphus, the beloved son of mighty Mars, slain in battle.”
“Do not blame me, ye dwellers in Olympus, if I go to avenge the death of my son,” wailed Mars; “even though the bolt of the Thunderer strike me down.” He rushed from the hall and donned his shining armor, appearing greater and more terrible than ever.
Incalculable mischief would have followed if Athena, concerned for the rest of the gods, had not hurried after him and taken his helmet, shield, and lance from him by force. “Imbecile,” she cried, “wouldst thou destroy us all? Woe unto us if he should see thee, the terrible Jupiter! Thy son was but a mortal and other noble warriors have fallen; it is impossible to save them all from death.” With these words she forced her angry brother back to the throne and he obediently submitted to her warning.
Apollo and Iris flew quickly down to the green summit of Ida, where Jupiter sat enveloped in dark clouds. Iris he sent with a stern message to Poseidon and his beloved son Apollo to Hector to strengthen him with his divine breath. “Then lead him into the battle once more,” said Jupiter, “and aid him thyself to drive the Achaians on board their ships. Take the terrible ægis in thy hand and shake it, that their hearts may quake.”
Iris delivered her message to the sea god and he answered it defiantly. “Powerful as he is, I call that tyrannical. To combat my will—mine, who am his equal! For are not he and Pluto and I brothers, and were not the upper and under worlds divided equally between us? We cast lots; air fell to him and water to me, but earth and sky are free to us all, and he shall not stop me here. Let him rule his consort and his sons and daughters. What care I for his threats or commands!”
Then Iris said doubtfully: “What, dark-haired World-power! Shall I take Jupiter thy answer in just those words, or wilt thou not change thy mind? It is well to keep the peace and respect is always due the elder.”
“Iris, exquisite goddess,” answered the angry king, “thou speakest sensibly and with reason, but it was righteous anger overcame me, for no brother should rule another. Now that I come to think it over, I know I had best obey him. But tell him this—that if, contrary to the wishes of all the other gods, he protects Ilium’s fortress and gives not the victory to the Achaians, he may expect our eternal enmity.”
He spoke, left the battlefield, and plunged into the sea. Meanwhile Apollo had appeared to Hector, saying: “Be comforted, son of Priam, for Jupiter sends me to save thee. I am Phœbus Apollo, who hath so often protected thee and thine. Follow me, that we may scatter the Achaians.” Thus the god encouraged the shepherd of the people, and like a colt which has broken its halter and gallops after the other horses to the pasture, he hastened into the battle turmoil. The reappearance of the hero caused astonishment and consternation among the enemy, and as the invisible Apollo shook the shield of Jupiter, the mighty ægis, fear and horror took complete possession of the people, and turning they fled back to the ships. The battle raged fiercer than before, and many brave men fell there.
Then Hector called aloud: “The time has come, brave Trojans, to board the ships. Let all keep together. Let no one tarry to gather booty, and if one remains behind, he shall die by my own hand.” He urged his horses across the moat, and the others followed him with exultant cries. When they reached the ships they paused and prayed aloud to the gods for victory. A long roll of thunder presaged good fortune, and with redoubled courage they charged forward. Hector tried to board a vessel, but in vain. The Achaians, from the deck, thrust back everyone who made the attempt with their long oars, and where Hector fought there were always to be found gathered together the bravest warriors. The Trojans, with their double-edged lances, fought in their chariots, but the Achaians, from the high decks of their dark vessels, used long, ironbound oars.
While the battle raged between the wall and the ships Patroclus was sitting in Eurypylus’ tent nursing his wounded friend. But he dared not remain long, for fear of arousing Achilles’ anger. He felt that he must see how his friends were faring, and his heart urged him to persuade Achilles to come to the rescue of the Achaians at last. He left the tent and gazed with horror upon the dreadful battleground. He saw Hector rush forward with a flaming torch and try to fire a ship, but the Achaians turned aside the fatal missile. Ajax of Salamis stood upon the deck and thrust down with his lance all who bore a burning brand. Hector aimed his javelin at him, but it struck Lykophron, who stood beside him. Ajax then called upon Teucer: “Look, brother, our friend has fallen by Hector’s hand! Where is thy avenging arrow?”
Teucer hastily climbed up with his bow and with the first arrow struck Klitus from his chariot. He then selected a second and sharper arrow for Hector and, as he was quite near to him, would doubtless have pierced him had the cord of his bow not broken just as he was in the act of drawing it. “Woe is me!” he cried. “A god brings all our attempts to naught and must have broken this cord, a newly twisted one, which I put on this morning.”
Hector had seen the accident, accepted it as a favorable omen, and cheered on his men. “Let everyone fight with all his might, for the Olympian Jove is with us. And if ye fall it shall be a glorious death for the women and children of Troy, and surely the Trojans shall recompense ye as soon as the Achaians are driven away.”
Where Hector rushed in, the troops huddled together like a herd of sheep before a wolf. None dared defend himself, but bowed his head in terror, and trembling, received his deathblow with averted face. The hero’s fluttering plumes were like a lion’s mane and his eyes flashed fury under his dark brows. Fear and shame kept the Achaians together. They continually encouraged one another. Nestor particularly besought the people to make one last attempt.
Among the Achaian leaders the most notable courage was shown by the Telamonian Ajax. He ran from one ship to another to encourage the soldiers, who could scarcely be forced to make another stand. A Trojan brought Hector a torch, which he threw into the foremost of the deserted ships. The sight drove the Achaians to desperation. They all rushed forward to defend the ship and a horrible struggle took place. Battle axes, swords, and lances hissed through the air and much blood flowed. Hector clung to the ship and shouted: “Bring up the firebrands! Jupiter has given us the day and we shall certainly take the ships.” And “fire! fire!” echoed through the entire army, so that all the Achaians trembled. Ajax himself could make no headway, but standing on one of the ships, he threw lance after lance at everyone he saw approaching with fire. His voice was never silent, but rose continually above the din, calling to his people: “Friends, keep up your courage and show yourselves men! Is there any help but in yourselves or is there another wall behind you? Do ye know of other ships, if these are burned, to carry you over the sea? Your deliverance depends solely upon yourselves!”
Fruitless zeal! The rattling spears of the enemy drove them to flight more convincingly than the voice of the lone leader to the attack. Their strength was broken.
Profoundly grieved at the sad fate of his comrades, Patroclus turned from the bloody spectacle and hurried to Achilles’ tent. Hot tears were rolling down his cheeks as he entered. Achilles, dismayed, forgot to rebuke him and inquired with concern: “Why dost thou weep, Patroclus? Speak, tell me all!”
Sighing deeply, Patroclus replied: “Son of Peleus, thou mighty hero of the Achaians, do not be angry with me if I tell thee that the Achaians are suffering too great misery. All over the field and at the ships their bravest warriors have fallen, and but few of the princes remain unharmed. Diomedes has been shot through the foot and Agamemnon through the arm; Ulysses is wounded in the side and Eurypylus received an arrow in his thigh. The deserted soldiers are panic-stricken and thou, obstinate one, wilt not take pity on them. Cruel man! Thou art so brave and yet thou wilt not raise thy hand to save thy despairing friends. May a god never be angry with me as thou art angry. Surely Peleus is not thy father nor a goddess thy mother. The dark sea depths or adamantine rocks must have brought thee forth, so unfeeling is thy heart. Or is it that thou obeyest some secret command of the gods and darest not take part in the battle? Then, at least, send me and give me thy Myrmidons that I may perchance drive back the Trojans from the ships. Lend me thy armor that the Trojans, deceived, may retreat and the Achaian warriors take fresh courage.”
“No behest of the gods restrains me,” replied Achilles, “nor is it my purpose to be angry forever. As soon as the Trojans approach my tents and ships, I shall gird on my sword and spear, and woe to him whom I shall meet! But until then, let Agamemnon bitterly repent his outrage and promise expiatory sacrifices to all the gods. But I shall not allow the Trojans the pleasure of destroying the ships. Therefore go, as thou desirest. Lead the Myrmidons into battle, for the danger is great. Diomedes no longer shakes his mighty spear and I do not hear the hated Agamemnon’s valiant battle cry; instead, Hector’s lionlike voice penetrates my tent, with the loud rejoicing of the Trojans. Take my resplendent armor, but listen well to what I say. Thou mayest drive the Trojans from the ships and back to the intrenchments, but pursue them no farther. Take care not to allow thyself to be enticed into an open battle, nor still less dare to storm Troy’s fortress without me, for mine must be the glory, that the Achaians may learn whom they have insulted.”
With these words he climbed to the upper deck of his ship to reconnoitre. And how horrified he was to see Protesilaus’ ship in flames, Hector still advancing, and the Achaians giving way. “Hurry, hurry, Patroclus!” he cried and smote his thigh with impatience. “The ships are already burning! Put on the armor quickly, while I gather the Myrmidons.” There were more than two thousand of them, splendid warriors of great strength and stature. At their leader’s call they assembled under arms. Achilles divided them into five companies, to each of which he gave a leader of proven courage and experience. Meanwhile Patroclus bade Automedon bring forth Achilles’ chariot and horses, with a second one for emergencies. Then he put on the shining armor, placed on his head the great helmet with its crest of waving horsehair, and took two lances, but not that of Achilles, for no other living mortal could wield that.
Thus armed he sprang into the chariot beside Automedon, who was waiting, whip in hand. Then Achilles went to the chest which his mother had given him, filled with cloths and warm garments, and took out of it a precious golden goblet from which he was accustomed to make sacrifice to the greatest of the gods alone. He dipped it in the sea, washed his hands, then filled the goblet with clear wine, and with it in his hands went to the door of his tent. “Father Jupiter, ruler of the world,” he prayed, while he poured the first drops on the ground in honor of the god, “hear me now as thou didst hear me when I was honored before the Achaians. Grant that my friend may return to me covered with glory, and fill his heart and the hearts of his companions with courage, that they may make an end of the Trojans at the ships, and that Hector may learn that Patroclus knows how to order the battle even if I am not with him.”
The appearance of Patroclus and his followers was like sunshine after a shower to the Achaians. The Trojans were frightened, for they thought that Achilles had come forth again, and even without him the advent of two thousand fresh warriors was matter enough for concern. When Achilles’ band made a dash for Protesilaus’ burning ship, not a Trojan stood his ground. The space about the ship was cleared by the Myrmidons and they quenched the fire which had already destroyed half of the ship. But the battle was by no means at an end. The leaders of the Trojans rallied their forces inside the intrenchments and put them in order once more. Patroclus did his friend credit; he was indefatigable and himself slew many of the boldest warriors. The other Achaian leaders joined him and new life and hope filled every breast.
The Trojans could no longer maintain their position inside the intrenchments. Hector was the first to reach the open plain with his chariot, but many another who tried to follow him was crushed in the throng. But the rout would not have been so general had Patroclus remembered Achilles’ instructions. But his success, the suddenness of the victory, and particularly his secret desire to kill Hector, misled the zealous man to pursue the fleeing enemy. He jumped from his chariot, which he instructed to have follow him, and hurried after his victims. Now he overthrew Pronous and took his armor; next he slew the charioteer Thestor and took his likewise. With a stone he crushed the head of Euryalus, who was about to attack him, and many others were struck down by his mighty arm. Not a Trojan was able to withstand Patroclus. The foolish man! Had he but remembered Achilles’ warning he might have escaped death; but Jupiter’s decree is mightier than man.
A few hours earlier the Trojans had broken down the enemy’s wall and now the Achaians were seeking to conquer the lofty walls of Troy’s fortress, and Patroclus himself was ambitious of being the first to enter the city. But Hector plucked up courage and commanded his charioteer to drive straight at the leader. As soon as he saw him coming, Patroclus left the wall and ran furiously to meet him, holding his lance in his left hand and in the right a stone which he had hastily picked up. This he threw with all his might at the two tall men in the chariot, and behold, it struck the good Kebriones, Priam’s son, and crushed his skull, so that his body fell abruptly across the chariot seat. Patroclus cried out maliciously: “See how hasty the man is! There are splendid divers among the Trojans. If he could but have tried his luck in the water, instead of in the sand, he would have caught plenty of oysters to satisfy his hunger.”