The Iliad (Penguin Classics)

by Homer

  Hector kills Periphetes

  Hector fell on them like a murderous lion coming across cattle grazing in numbers in the pastures of some great water-meadow; the herdsman is inexperienced in fighting off the beast from the carcass of an animal, so he keeps level with the front or rear of the herd and leaves the lion to strike at the centre and devour his kill, while the rest of the herd scatters in panic – so the whole Greek force was miraculously put to flight by Hector and Father Zeus. Hector killed just one Greek.

  His victim was a Mycenean, Periphetes son of Copreus. Copreus had been the messenger of lord Eurystheus, employed (640) to deliver Eurystheus’ instructions to mighty Heracles about his labours. But this worthless father had produced a far better son in all respects: Periphetes was a fast runner, a good warrior and one of the most intelligent men in Mycenae. He now handed Hector yet greater glory. He had just turned to run when he tripped against the rim of his shield which he carried to keep missiles off and which came down to his feet. Thus entangled, he fell backwards and, as he hit the ground, his helmet clanged balefully round his temples, at once attracting Hector’s notice. (650) He ran up to him and drove a spear into his chest, killing him in the very presence of his dear companions, who could do nothing to help their comrade, for all their distress at his death, since godlike Hector had terrified them all.

  Very soon the Greeks were in among their ships and protected by the sterns of those that had been drawn up first. But the Trojans poured in too, and the Greeks were forced to fall back from the first line to their adjoining huts. There they re-grouped and came to a halt, not scattering all over the camp, but kept together by a sense of shame and fear and the constant encouragement they shouted to each other. In particular Gerenian (660) Nestor, guardian of the Greeks, appealed in supplication to each and every man in his parents’ name:

  ‘Be men, my friends, and think of your reputation among others! Each of you remember your children too and your wives, your property and your parents, whether they are alive or dead. For the sake of your absent dear ones, I beg you – stand firm! Don’t turn and run!’

  So Nestor spoke and put fresh heart and courage into every man; and Athene cleared away from their eyes the strange mist that had befogged them. There was daylight now on both sides, (670) over the ships and the field of battle, that great leveller. Hector, master of the battle-cry, and his men were now visible to all the Greeks, both those who were standing unengaged in the rear as well as those fighting beside the swift ships.

  Ajax desperately defends the ships

  Great-hearted Ajax was not pleased by the idea of joining the Greeks who had stood back from the fighting. Instead, he kept moving up and down the raised half-decks of the ships with great strides, swinging in his hands a huge pike ten metres long, made of sections pegged together and designed for sea-battles. As an (680) expert trainer harnesses together four horses and gallops them in from the plain to a big town down a busy road: many men and women look on in admiration as he keeps jumping from one mount to another, without slipping, as they race along – so Ajax, taking enormous strides, kept moving from one ship’s deck to another, and his voice reached the sky as he exhorted the Greeks with tremendous shouts to defend their ships and huts.

  Hector was equally unwilling to linger among the crowd of (690) his Trojan men-at-arms. As a tawny eagle swoops on a flock of birds – geese, cranes or long-necked swans – that are feeding by a river, so Hector dashed to the front and made straight for a blue-prowed ship. Zeus with his great hand urged him on from behind and spurred his men to follow.

  So once again an intense struggle broke out around the ships. You would think they had gone fresh and unwearied into the fight, so eagerly did they come to grips. But this was the attitude (700) of the combatants: the Greeks felt they were in for disaster and would be destroyed, but every Trojan there was filled with the hope of burning the ships and killing the Greek warriors. Such were their expectations as they closed in conflict.

  Hector at last got his hands on the stern of a ship. It was the speedy seafaring vessel that had brought Protesilaus to Troy, thought it never carried him home again to the land of his fathers. Round this ship the Greeks and Trojans hacked away at each other hand to hand. It was not a matter now of keeping their distance and weathering volleys of arrows or spears on (710) either side, but, united in resolution, they stood man to man and fought it out with sharp axes and hatchets, long swords and curved spears. Many a fine black-hilted sword fell to the ground from warriors’ hands, and many another was cut from their shoulders as they fought. The earth ran black with blood.

  Hector calls for fire

  Hector, once he had laid hold of the ship, never let go but kept his hands on the stern-post and shouted to the Trojans:

  ‘Bring fire! Mass and charge! This is the day, worth all the rest, when Zeus allows us to destroy their ships! They came here against the will of the gods (720) and started all our troubles. But that was through the cowardice of our elders. When I wished to carry the fighting up to the ships, they stopped me and held back my troops. But as surely as far-thundering Zeus blinded us then, he is backing us today and sweeping us on!’

  So he spoke, and they fell on the Greeks with even greater ferocity. Ajax himself, overwhelmed by missiles, could no longer hold his position but, in fear of death, gave way a little and retreated from the ship’s afterdeck towards the two-metre cross- (730) bench amidships. There he stood on the alert and, when any Trojan came up with a blazing torch, he fended them off from the ships with his pike. And all the time, in that terrifying voice of his, he was calling to the Greeks:

  ‘Friends, Greek warriors, attendants of Ares, be men, my comrades, and call up that fighting spirit of yours! Do you imagine we have allies in the rear or a better wall to keep off disaster? There is no walled town nearby with reinforcements to save the day. We are in a plain controlled by Trojan men-at- (740) arms; the sea is at our backs; and the land of our fathers is a long way off. So our only salvation is to fight! There’s no tenderness in war!’

  He spoke and kept thrusting furiously with his sharp pike. Whenever a Trojan came near the hollow ships with a burning brand (in the hope of gratifying Hector who was urging them on) Ajax was ready and hit him with the enormous weapon. He stabbed twelve men like that, hand to hand in front of the ships.

  16

  THE DEATH OF PATROCLUS

  1–100: Patroclus tells Achilles that the Greeks are in serious trouble, and Achilles agrees Patroclus can return to battle in his (Achilles’) armour.

  101–24: Ajax retreats, and the Greek ships are fired.

  124–418: Achilles prays in vain to ZEUS for Patroclus’ safe return. Patroclus advances into battle and sends the Trojans flying in panic.

  419–683: Patroclus kills Sarpedon, and Hector leads the Trojans back into the attack. General fighting. ZEUS watches the battle keenly. He makes Hector flee; APOLLO rescues Sarpedon’s body.

  684–867: Patroclus is warned off taking Ilium by APOLLO. Patroclus kills Hector’s charioteer Cebriones. APOLLO strips Patroclus of his armour. Patroclus is stabbed by Euphorbus and finished off by Hector. Patroclus prophesies Hector’s death at Achilles’ hands.

  While this battle was raging round the well-benched ship, Patroclus came up to Achilles shepherd of the people, weeping hot tears like a dark spring trickling black streaks of water down a steep rock-face. Swift-footed godlike Achilles felt pity when he saw him and spoke to him with winged words:

  ‘Patroclus, why are you in tears, like a little girl running along beside her mother and begging to be carried, tugging at her skirt to make her stop, although she is in a hurry, and looking (10) tearfully up at her till at last she picks her up? That, Patroclus, is how you look, with the soft tears rolling down your cheeks. Have you something to tell our Myrmidon troops, or myself ? Some news from our home in Phthia that has reached you privately? They say your father Menoetius is still alive, and my father Peleus certainly is, with his Myrmidons arou
nd him. If either of them were dead, we should indeed have cause for grief. Or perhaps you are weeping for the Greeks, who are being slaughtered by the hollow ships because of their stupidity? Tell me, don’t keep it to yourself. We must share it.’

  (20) Sighing heavily, charioteer Patroclus, you replied:

  Patroclus criticizes Achilles (15.399)

  ‘Achilles son of Peleus, by far the greatest of the Greeks, don't be angry at what I say. It’s the Greeks – they are in terrible distress. All our best men are lying by their ships, hit or stabbed. Mighty Diomedes son of Tydeus has been hit; the great spearman Odysseus has been stabbed; so has Agamemnon; and Eurypylus has had an arrow in his thigh. Healers are attending them with all the remedies at their command to try to heal their wounds.

  (30) ‘But you, Achilles, you are impossible. God preserve me from the bitterness you harbour! You and your disastrous greatness – what will future generations have to thank you for, if you do nothing to prevent the Greeks’ humiliating destruction? You are quite pitiless. Peleus was not your father, or Thetis your mother. No, the grey sea and the sheer cliffs produced you and your unfeeling heart. But if you are privately deterred by some prophecy, some word from Zeus that your lady mother has told you, at least allow me to take the field with the Myrmidon contingent at my back, if perhaps I might bring (40) salvation to the Greeks. Give me your own armour to fight in, so that the Trojans take me for you and break off the battle. That would give our weary troops some breathing space – there is little enough respite in war. The Trojans have fought to the point of exhaustion, and I, being fresh, might well drive them back to the town from our ships and huts.’

  So Patroclus spoke in supplication, the great fool. In doing so, he was simply invoking his own destiny and a dreadful death. Greatly disturbed, swift-footed Achilles replied:

  ‘Olympian-born Patroclus, what are you talking about? There (50) is no prophecy I know of that I should be paying attention to, and my lady mother has passed on to me no word from Zeus. But it really hurts me when a man who is my equal wants to rob me and take away the prize I won, just because he has more power. After all I have been through in this war, that really hurts me. The army gave me that girl as my prize; I had sacked a walled town; I had won her with my own spear. And now lord Agamemnon son of Atreus snatched her from my arms as if I were some refugee who counted for nothing.

  (60) ‘But that’s over and done with: let it go. I was wrong in supposing a man could nurse his anger for ever, though I had intended to do so till the tumult and the fighting reached my own ships. Arm yourself, then, in my famous battle gear and lead my warlike Myrmidons into battle, now that a dark cloud of Trojans is indeed swirling threateningly round our ships, and the Greeks are clinging on to a narrow strip of ground with the beach at their back. The whole town has turned out against us, its courage restored.

  (70) ‘No wonder, when they cannot see the helmet on my head glinting in their faces. They would soon take to their heels and fill the gullies with their dead, if lord Agamemnon had kindly feelings towards me. As it is, the Greeks are having to defend the very camp itself. Diomedes’ spear is no longer raging in his hands to save the Greeks from destruction; and I have not even heard loathsome Agamemnon barking out his orders. It is man-slaying Hector’s shouts that ring in my ears, as he hounds on his Trojans. Their cries fill the whole plain: they are trouncing the Greeks.

  Patroclus allowed back to fight

  (80) ‘Nevertheless, Patroclus, you must save the ships. Attack with all your force before the Trojans send them up in flames and cut us off from home. But listen while I tell you exactly how I want things to be: I want you to win me great honour and glory in the eyes of all the Greeks, so that they give my lovely woman back to me and provide splendid gifts as well. So return to me directly you have driven the Trojans from the ships. Even if loud-thundering Zeus offers you the chance of winning glory for yourself, don’t entertain any dreams of fighting on without me against these (90) war-loving Trojans. You will diminish my honour.

  ‘So don’t lead the Myrmidons on to Ilium in the flush of victory, killing Trojans as you go, or one of the eternal gods from Olympus may cross your path. The Archer-god Apollo loves these Trojans dearly. But turn back when you have lit the way to victory at the ships and leave the rest to do the fighting on the plain. Ah, Father Zeus, Athene and Apollo, if only no Trojan could get away alive, not one, and no Greek either, and (100) we two could survive the massacre to tear off Troy’s holy diadem of towers single-handed!’

  While Achilles and Patroclus were talking together in this way, the moment came when Ajax could no longer hold his position. He was conquered by the will of Zeus and overwhelmed with spears from the hands of the proud Trojans. His shining helmet, its stout plates struck again and again on both sides, rang terrifyingly about his temples. His left shoulder ached from the prolonged effort of swinging his shield, though even so the volleys of enemy spears were unable to knock it aside. He (110) was panting hard and the sweat streamed from all his limbs. He had no time to catch his breath. Everywhere, disaster piled on disaster.

  Hector fires the ships

  Tell me now, you Muses that live on Olympus, how the Greek ships were first set on fire! Hector went right up to Ajax, struck Ajax’s ash pike with his great sword below the socket of the point and sheared the head clean off. Ajax continued wielding the now headless pike as before, the head finally hitting the ground with a clang a long way below him. Deep in his great heart Ajax realized with a (120) shudder that the gods were taking a hand in the affair and that high-thundering Zeus, intent on a Trojan victory, was thwarting all his battle plans. So he fell back out of range; the Trojans threw blazing brands into the swift ship; and in a moment she was wrapped in inextinguishable flames.

  So the fire swirled round her stern. But Achilles slapped his thighs and said to Patroclus:

  ‘Up, Olympian-born Patroclus, charioteer! I can see a blaze of fire roaring up by the ships. They mustn’t capture them and cut off our retreat! Quick, get your armour on while I assemble the men.’

  (130) (Patroclus arms; the Myrmidons muster) So he spoke, and Patroclus armed himself in the gleaming bronze. First he placed fine leg-guards on his shins, fitted with silver ankle-clips. Then he put on Achilles’ body-armour, glittering and starry. Over his shoulder he slung his bronze, silver-riveted sword, then his great, heavy shield. On his mighty head he placed his well-made helmet with a horsehair crest, the plume nodding frighteningly from the top. Then he took up two powerful spears that fitted (140) his grip. The only weapon of matchless Achilles he did not take was Achilles’ long, thick, heavy spear. No Greek could wield this but Achilles, who alone knew how to handle it. It was made from an ash-tree on the top of Mount Pelion and had been a gift from Cheiron to Achilles’ father Peleus, to bring death to warriors.

  Patroclus ordered Automedon to yoke the horses at once. He thought more highly of Automedon than of anyone except Achilles breaker of the battle-line, having found that in action he could be completely relied on to keep within calling distance. So Automedon yoked up for him divine Xanthus and Balius, (150) who could race with the winds. Podarge, the storm-filly, had foaled these for their sire the Western Gale when she was grazing in the meadows beside Ocean Stream. Automedon then put in as a trace-horse the thoroughbred Pedasus, whom Achilles had brought away with him when he captured Eëtion’s town. Pedasus was only a mortal horse but he could keep up with the immortal pair.

  Achilles went the rounds of his huts and got all his Myrmidons under arms. They were like flesh-eating wolves, hearts filled with boundless courage, who have brought down a great antlered stag in the mountains and tear at it, and their jowls (160) run red with blood; then they go off in a pack to lap the black water from the surface of a dark spring with their slender tongues, belching out the gore; their hearts are fearless, and their bellies growl – so the captains and commanders of the Myrmidons surged forward to fall in under the command of Patroclus, Achilles’ brave at
tendant. And there stood warlike Achilles himself, encouraging the charioteers and the shield-bearing infantry.

  Each of the fifty swift ships that Achilles had brought to Troy (170) had a crew of fifty men at the oars. He had appointed five commanders whom he trusted to lead them, but he was the most powerful and in overall command. Menesthius of the flashing body-armour had led the first line of ships. He was son of the divine River Spercheus and beautiful Polydora was his mother, a daughter of Peleus. He was thus the child of a woman bedded by a god, the tireless stream Spercheus. But in name he was the son of Borus, because Borus son of Perieres had openly married his mother, giving a handsome dowry.

  Warlike Eudorus had commanded the second line. He was (180) the illegitimate son of Polymele daughter of Phylas, a beautiful dancer. The great god Hermes slayer of Argus had fallen for her when he saw her dancing in a chorus for Artemis of the golden distaff, goddess of the hunt. Gracious Hermes took her straight up to her bedroom unobserved, slept with her and made her the mother of this splendid child, Eudorus the great runner and fighter. When the baby had been brought into the light by Eileithyia, the goddess of labour, and saw the rays of the sun, a powerful chieftain, Echecles son of Actor, married (190) the mother after giving an untold bride-price and took her home with him. So Eudorus’ old grandfather Phylas devotedly raised and looked after the baby, surrounding him with love as if he were his own son. Warlike Peisander had commanded the third line. Of all the Myrmidons he was the best spearman after Patroclus. The old charioteer Phoenix had led the fourth and noble Alcimedon the fifth.