The Iliad and the Odyssey (Classics of World Literature)

by Homer

  Book 15

  When Zeus awakes to see Hector wounded and the Trojans in flight, with Poseidon in pursuit, he threatens to repeat his former violence to Hera. Hera escapes the charge on a technicality. Zeus, pleased at her submission, prophesies what is to happen: the deaths of Patroclus, Hector and his own son Sarpedon, all as the consequences of the supplication of Thetis. Ares angrily demurs, pleading the need to avenge his son regardless of the consequences. Athene reasons with him. By now some other mortal, better or stronger than his son, will have been or will soon be killed. It is a hard thing to rescue all the generations of mortals.

  Iris is sent to make Poseidon comply, with the reminder that Zeus is more powerful and older than Poseidon and that the Furies side with the elder born: Poseidon denies him the precedence if not the power, but is persuaded of the rightness of her case. He yields, provided Zeus does not in the end spare Troy.

  Apollo is sent down to hearten and inspire Hector. The Trojans despatch many Greeks; with Apollo’s help, they wreck the Greek bastions like a child playing on a beach. As sandcastles to wanton boys are the bulwarks of men to the gods:

  And then, as he had chok’d their dyke, he tumbled down their wall.

  And look how easily any boy, upon the sea-ebb’d shore,

  Makes with a little sand a toy, and cares for it no more,

  But as he rais’d it childishly, so in his wanton vein,

  Both with his hands and feet he pulls and spurns it down again.

  The terrified Greeks pray to Zeus; he thunders, which omen the Trojans take as favourable to them.

  Patroclus meanwhile has been attending to Eurypylus, but on seeing the Trojans swarm over the ramparts and threaten the Greek ships, he sees that the time has come to put Nestor’s suggestion to Achilles. The shape of the battle becomes tauter, and Hector makes straight for Ajax. Teucer, Ajax’s brother, goes to his aid but as he fires his arrow his newly-twisted string breaks. All see this as a mark of divine interference: Teucer and Ajax attribute it to some pro-Trojan god, the poet and Hector to Zeus.

  Both Hector and Ajax speak rousingly to their forces: Hector of Zeus’s plan and the honour of defending their families, Ajax of the imminence of the crisis and the respect that serves both glory and self-preservation. Hector, in his Zeus-granted hour of glory, rages like a murderous lion. Respect, fear, and Nestor’s exhortations to think of their fathers, are the only things that keep the Greeks from scattering.

  Ajax, like a display rider, leaps agilely from ship to ship to fight and encourage the Greeks, while Hector like an eagle darts for one ship, to fight at close quarters. The book ends with Ajax being forced slowly back and calling for a last-ditch effort, while Hector in Zeus’s name, calls for fire to burn the Greek ships.

  Book 16

  With Hector on the point of defeating the Greeks, so going against the fate-ordained end by firing their ships and trapping them without the means to escape, Book 16 picks up Patroclus’ story from Book 11. In tears, he returns to the waiting Achilles to report the plight of the Greeks:

  ‘Wherefore weeps my friend

  So like a girl, who, though she sees her mother cannot tend

  Her childish humours, hangs on her, and would be taken up,

  Still viewing her with tear-drown’d eyes, when she has made her stoop?’

  Patroclus begs for Achilles’ arms, ‘since any shadow seen’ of Achilles will hearten the Greeks and frighten the Trojans. The poet marks the significance of this, the request that brings tragedy on Patroclus, Hector, numerous Trojans and Achilles himself:

  Thus foolish man he su’d

  For his sure death.

  Achilles consents, but only if Patroclus goes no further than warding off the immediate danger from the Greek, and his own, ships. This will enhance Achilles’ glory; to go beyond would diminish it and bring him up against the gods.

  Meanwhile Ajax is being battered by the Trojans, by the will of Zeus and by Hector. As the fire approaches his own ships, Achilles helps to muster the Myrmidons, who pour out like a pack of ravening, slavering wolves, with Patroclus at their head. Achilles, after careful ritual, prays to Zeus that his dear friend may be successful, sufficient and prudent:

  ‘But fight he ne’er so well,

  No further let him trust his fight, but, when he shall repel

  Clamour and danger from our fleet, vouchsafe a safe retreat

  To him and all his companies, with fames and arms complete.’

  Zeus grants one prayer and denies the other. The Myrmidons, like angry wasps stirred up by idle children, fall on the ‘amazed’ Trojans and force them back. Patroclus is preeminent in the fighting; over many from both sides close ‘blood-red death and strong destiny’. Sarpedon resolves to stem the retreat by standing against Patroclus; they face each other like vultures. Zeus, watching, sees that Sarpedon, his son, is destined to die, as he had outlined in Book 15. Much moved at the reality he considers intervening. Hera points out that to go against a mortal’s marked fate would disrupt the boundary between mortal and immortal. Rather, Zeus must accept that the proper end, the reward, for a mortal is to have due burial and a physical memorial, a focus for the commemoration that dead heroes receive. Zeus weeps bloody tears for his son.

  Sarpedon dies, like a tree felled or a bull savaged, clawing in the dust. He adjures Glaucus, already wounded, to fight over his body. Glaucus is overwhelmed with grief and pain, and prays to Apollo; he calls on the Trojan leaders to avenge him, their mainstay. Against the raging Trojans line up Patroclus and the Ajaxes, burning to strip Sarpedon’s body which soon becomes buried under weapons and fighting, like a milk pail covered by flies.

  Hector sees that the scales are turning against him and loses heart, leaving the Myrmidons to despoil the corpse, which is spirited away by Sleep and Death. But the scales are turning too against Patroclus. In the grip of passion, he forgets Achilles’ injunction, ‘which had he kept, had kept black death from him’, and chases the Trojans not only away from the ships but right across the battle zone up to the walls of Troy. The poet asks him, as though he could be the narrator of his doom, who else he took with him to his death. Patroclus is like ‘one of heaven’ as he attacks the walls of Troy; on his fourth assault Apollo tells him to cease what exceeds his fate. Patroclus gives way, and Apollo goes to Hector to tempt him to triumph over him.

  Patroclus, ‘so near his own grave death’, mocks the dying fall of Hector’s charioteer and fights Hector over the body, while Trojans and Greeks contest for dominance as ‘winds strive to make a lofty wood Bow to their greatness’. Bodies fall like trees; the Greeks come out on top, ‘past measure’. Three times Patroclus charges and wins superhuman victories; then the end of his life appears as, unseen, dreadful Apollo himself strikes him. Achilles’ helmet is taken up by Hector, ‘whose death was near’, and ‘in confusion, thus dismay’d’ Patroclus is then wounded by a passing Trojan. Hector sees his advantage and delivers the final blow: ‘on thee shall vultures prey, Poor wretch, nor shall thy mighty friend afford thee any aid’, even though he no doubt told you not to come home before ‘hewing great Hector’s breast’. The dying Patroclus answers that he has been beaten by the gods, not by him, together with destiny which will shortly wait on him in the shape of Achilles:

  ‘And this one thing more concerns thee; note it then:

  Thou shalt not long survive thyself; nay, now Death calls for thee,

  And violent Fate; Achilles’ lance shall make this good for me.’

  With these words, his soul flies away, ‘sorrowing for his sad fate, to leave him young’. Hector refuses to accept the words as prophetic and takes Achilles’ armour.

  Book 17

  Menelaus bestrides the body, and there kills Euphorbus, a lovely young man:

  . . . all with gore

  His locks, that like the Graces were, and which he eve
r wore

  In gold and silver ribands wrapp’d, were piteously wet.

  Euphorbus was the first to wound Patroclus. His death, however, is described in a long pathetic simile – like an olive tree with spreading branches curled with snowy flowers, watered with delicious springs, which is uprooted by a sudden gale.

  Apollo recalls Hector from chasing Achilles’ divine horses. Menelaus debates whether to withdraw from facing Hector and the god, which would be prudent, but the hasty abandonment of Patroclus’ corpse and arms would offend the Greeks. He makes a ‘lion-like retreat’ and eventually returns with Ajax to the now despoiled body of Patroclus.

  Glaucus meanwhile upbraids Hector for abandoning Sarpedon’s corpse and showing ingratitude to his allies. He demands they get Patroclus’ body inside Troy to use as barter for Sarpedon’s armour. Hector rebuts the charge and assumes Achilles’ divine armour. Zeus, addressing him as the poet addressed Patroclus, strengthens him for what will be his final battle, granting him:

  ‘Those arms, in glory of thy acts, thou shalt have that frail blaze

  Of excellence that neighbours death, a strength ev’n to amaze.’

  Hector calls on all the allies and offers half the spoils and equal glory to whoever gets Patroclus’ body inside the walls. They rush to obey, the fighting very fierce until the ground runs with blood: ‘Silly fools, Ajax prevented this, By raising ramparts to his friend with half their carcasses.’ The bloody struggle over the body continues like that to stretch and cure a fat-drenched ox-hide. The body, like the whole expedition, has become something that cannot be given up without loss of honour, even when the cost is high.

  Achilles’ mother conceals Patroclus’ death from him; Achilles’ horses stand like statues on a tomb in grief for him. Zeus pities them, as deathless creatures involved with mortals and subject, like Thetis, to a grief that too is deathless.

  The bitter fighting continues; the Trojans have the advantage. Finally, however, the Ajaxes start to clear a path for Patroclus’ body as, the myth goes, Odysseus would later clear a path for Achilles’. Patroclus’ death foreshadows and in some ways brings about Achilles’. There is a strong sense that by borrowing and dying in Achilles’ armour, his warrior’s skin and identity, he has ensured the death of the man he was impersonating.

  Book 18

  Achilles, waiting in fearful anticipation, guesses that Patroclus is dead, even before news is brought. Patroclus is his beloved, is his responsibility. He has died because Achilles refused to help their friends; he has died in Achilles’ armour and in Achilles’ stead. Achilles cannot cope with the loss and is overborne by rage and grief.

  His grief reaches Thetis, who comes to him as she did, tragically as it has turned out, in Book 1. The favour showed him by Zeus, at her request, has had a terrible outcome. He is doomed if he kills Hector, yet must wreak vengeance for his friend. He regrets, but lays aside, the wrath that caused his inaction and Patroclus’ death; she laments for the best of sons, now doomed to an early death. He too is aware of the everlasting grief brought on her by his death but he does not now seek to evade it.

  ‘And if such fate expect my life, where death strikes, I will lie.

  Meantime I wish a good renown. . . But any further stay

  (Which your much love perhaps may wish) assay not to persuade;

  All vows are kept, all pray’rs heard, now free way for fight is made.’

  She offers the only comfort she can – new armour so that he can go back into battle to find the vengeance and renown that is all his short life can now offer him.

  The struggle over the body is suddenly resolved when Achilles shows himself – a sight that brings panic to the Trojans even though he is unarmed. The Greeks bring the body back, a warrior’s cortège; the sun sets in mark of the disjointedness and extremity of the death:

  . . . his friends, with all remorse,

  Marching about it. His great friend, dissolving then in tears

  To see his truly-lov’d return’d so hors’d upon a hearse,

  Whom with such horse and chariot he set out safe and whole,

  Now wounded with unpitying steel, now sent without a soul,

  Never again to be restor’d, never receiv’d but so,

  He follow’d mourning bitterly. The sun (yet far to go)

  Juno commanded to go down, who in his pow’r’s despite

  Sunk to the ocean, over earth dispersing sudden night.

  On the Trojan side Polydamas, as always, counsels caution and retrenchment. Hector, antipathetic to him and his advice, is unwilling to give up the day’s advances, is unwilling to ‘retreat to Troy’s old prison’ even if it means a trial of strength with Achilles. The Trojans, ‘fools’, applaud this worse counsel: ‘Minerva robb’d them of their brains, to like the ill advice’. As often, a god is shown as externally influencing a course of action which is equally pictured as determined by the psychology of the individuals.

  Achilles spends the night in grief-stricken reminiscence, in tending the corpse, and in vowing vengeance and offerings: Hector and twelve Trojan princes as human sacrifice.

  Hephaestus agrees to forge divine armour for him to replace that which was despoiled from Patroclus, to do him honour for the rest of his short life and so that other men wonder at it when he comes to meet his fate. On the wonderful shield is depicted the cosmos and two cities:

  The one did nuptials celebrate,

  Observing at them solemn feasts; the brides from forth their bow’rs

  With torches usher’d through the streets; a world of paramours

  Excited by them, youths and maids in lovely circles danc’d,

  To whom the merry pipe and harp their spritely sounds advanc’d.

  Also depicted is an arbitration over a blood price – such things can be mediated in the non-military world – and the second city at war, with gods helping the defenders. Elsewhere a pastoral scene is disturbed by an ambush, agricultural scenes of ploughing and harvest, herding of cattle, with a bull the prey of lions, and of sheep. The last scenes, like the first, are of festivities, a dance floor with finely dressed young people, revolving in song and dance, and the Ocean encircling everything.

  When it is finished, Thetis takes the shield, with the rest of the shining armour, to Achilles, who will never again see everyday human scenes such as those depicted.

  Book 19

  Achilles, terrifying and radiant with passion, takes and delights in the armour. He gives Patroclus’ body treatment suited to a hero and gathers his forces; he publically remits his anger against Agamemnon and sorrows for all the dead who have fallen because of their strife. Agamemnon publicly acknowledges that he was in the wrong but ‘not I but destinies, And Jove himself, and black Erinnys’ [Fury] are responsible, who inflicted delusion; he likens himself to Zeus, who was similarly deluded by Hera in order to gain precedence for Eurystheus rather than Heracles. However, he acknowledges that it is for him to make amends, as proposed before by the envoys in Book 9. This time Achilles does not spurn them; they are for Agamemnon to give or not, as he thinks fit, but the important task now is to get back to the fighting.

  Achilles vows not to eat or drink until he has avenged Patroclus; he cannot attend to such things until he has discharged the fury in his heart. Pragmatic Odysseus advises that Achilles’ mind should be set at rest by an oath sworn by Agamemnon that he has not touched Briseis and that the troops should eat first. Many men die; the best thing is to bury them, mourn them and then eat and drink to have strength to carry on fighting. Achilles is subverting the wise order of things. After a sacrifice, the council ends with Achilles musing on the delusions that led to his anger and conflict with Agamemnon, and whether it was Zeus’ plan to bring destruction on so many Greeks.

  Briseis, brought back by the Myrmidons, is overcome with weeping to see the body of Patroclus; she remem
bers his unfailing kindness from the day when Achilles, having killed her husband and three brothers, captured her – and his promise that Achilles would heal the wound he had made by marrying her and that he would preside over their wedding feast. The women around share her laments, overtly for Patroclus but each also for herself. Achilles’ mind too turns to his own griefs. He thinks of the past, and of his father and his son Neoptolemus who will not see him again. Athene takes pity on him and instils nectar to keep him from fainting.

  Armed in his new armour he goes out to his horses and exhorts them to look after him better than they did Patroclus – to bring him safely from the battlefield. One horse answers, in human speech, absolving them from blame for his death which is now shortly to come.

  Book 20

  The return of Achilles compels the attention even of the gods. Zeus calls an assembly to revoke his decree of non-interference, a formal mirroring of the assembly of the Greeks in Book 19. He fears that Achilles will go beyond fate and storm Troy, and so allows the gods free rein to favour whichever side they wish: Hera, Pallas Athene, Poseidon, Hermes and Hephaestus to the Greeks; Ares, Phoebus Apollo, Artemis and Aphrodite to the Trojans. His plan seems now to have been fulfilled.

  Achilles’ first major encounter is with Aeneas, whom he taunts with being marginalised by king Priam and with the reminder of a previous encounter when the gods saved him. Aeneas replies that he is well able to exchange insults, like a child or a fishwife, but now is the time for action, not taunts. Achilles’ five-fold shield protects him from a deadly thrust. Poseidon intervenes, perceiving that Aeneas will lose the encounter in the false confidence given by Apollo’s words – though the god ‘did never mean To add to his great words his guard against the ruin then Summoned against him . . . What fool is he!’ Poseidon saves Aeneas for his destined end – to be the progenitor of a mighty [Roman] race who will dominate Troy in generations to come. Achilles is disgusted to find his foe evaporate.