The Iliad (Penguin Classics)

by Homer

  (690) When the two men had kitted themselves out, they stepped into the middle of the gathering, put up their massive fists and fell on each other. Heavy blows were exchanged; cheek-bones cracked fearfully; and the sweat began to pour off them. Then, as Euryalus was looking for an opening, godlike Epeius, leaping (700) in, caught him on the cheek. Euryalus remained upright no longer, and his whole body sagged. As a fish leaps up from the weed-covered shallows and falls back into the dark waves when the north wind ripples the waters, so the blow lifted Euryalus off the ground. Great-hearted Epeius gave him a hand and set him on his legs. His companions gathered round and led him off through the gathering on trailing feet, spitting clots of blood, with his head lolling to one side. He was still groggy when they put him down among his own people. They had to go and fetch the two-handled cup themselves.

  Wrestling: Odysseus ties with Ajax

  Achilles son of Peleus immediately laid out and displayed before the Greeks the prizes for the third event, the wrestling, a dangerous sport. For the winner there was a big three-legged cauldron to stand over a fire – it was worth a dozen oxen by the Greeks’ reckoning – and for the loser he brought forward a woman thoroughly trained in domestic work whom they valued at four oxen. Achilles rose and addressed the Greeks:

  ‘Come forward two men to compete for this prize.’

  So he spoke, and great Ajax son of Telamon rose at once, and so did quick-thinking Odysseus, who knew all the tricks. The (710) two girded themselves up, stepped into the middle of the gathering and gripped each other’s arms with their powerful hands, like the sloping gable-rafters that an expert builder locks together in the roof of a high house to resist the wind. Their backs creaked under the massive pressure exerted by their great arms; the sweat streamed down them; and blood-red weals sprang up all along their sides and shoulders. And still they struggled on for victory and the fine cauldron. But Odysseus was no more able to trip his man and bring him to ground than (720) Ajax could master Odysseus’ great strength. After some time, when they began to bore the troops, great Ajax son of Telamon said:

  ‘Olympian-born son of Laertes, resourceful Odysseus, either you lift me or I’ll lift you. We’ll leave the rest to Zeus.’

  With these words he lifted Odysseus off the ground. But Odysseus’ craft did not desert him. He caught Ajax with a kick from behind in the hollow of the knee, unbalanced him and dumped him on his back, himself falling on Ajax’s chest. The gathering looked on in astonishment. Now all-daring godlike (730) Odysseus had to try a lift. He shifted Ajax just a little off the ground but could not raise him. So he crooked a leg round Ajax’s knee, and they both fell down side by side and were smothered in dust. They jumped up and would have tried for a third time, if Achilles himself had not risen to his feet and interposed:

  ‘End the fight and don’t wear yourselves out with your exertions. You have both won. Share out the prizes equally and withdraw, so that other Greeks can compete.’

  (740) So he spoke, and they heard and agreed. After wiping off the dust, they put on their tunics.

  The foot-race (21.40)

  Achilles son of Peleus went on at once to lay out the prizes for the foot-race, a silver mixing-bowl of fine workmanship, holding six measures. It was the loveliest thing in the world, a masterpiece of craftsmanship which had been shipped across the misty seas from Sidon by Phoenician traders and presented as a gift to lord Thoas when they put in at his port. Then Euneus son of Jason had given it to the warrior Patroclus in return for Lycaon, Priam’s son; and now Achilles laid it out as a prize in honour of his dead companion to the man who should come in first in the footrace. He offered the runner-up a large, well-fattened ox; and the (750) third, half a talent of gold. Achilles rose and addressed the Greeks:

  ‘Come forward the men to compete for this prize.’

  So he spoke, and swift-footed Ajax son of Oïleus immediately rose; so too did quick-thinking Odysseus and Nestor’s son Antilochus, who was the fastest of the younger men. The three of them lined up side by side, and Achilles pointed out the turning-post.

  They went flat out from the start. Ajax son of Oïleus soon (760) shot ahead but godlike Odysseus stuck close behind, like the rod near the breast of a girdled weaving-woman: she carefully draws it along with her hands to get the spool out past the warp and brings it right up to her breast. So close was Odysseus behind Ajax, his feet falling in Ajax’s tracks before the dust had settled down again; and he kept up so well that his breath fanned Ajax’s head. He was desperate to win, and all the Greeks cheered him on, shouting encouragement to a man who was doing all he could already. As they drew near the finish, Odysseus offered up a silent prayer to grey-eyed Athene:

  (770) ‘Hear me, goddess, be kind and help me. Come and speed my feet.’

  ATHENE ensures Odysseus wins

  So he spoke in prayer, and Pallas Athene heard him and lightened his feet, arms and all his limbs. The runners had the prize almost in their grasp when Ajax at full stretch slipped and fell. Athene had put him out of action, and it happened where the ground was littered with dung from the lowing cattle that were slaughtered by swift-footed Achilles for Patroclus’ funeral. So Ajax had his mouth and nostrils filled with cattle-dung, while all-daring godlike Odysseus, having caught him up and finished, carried off the silver bowl. Illustrious Ajax took possession of the farmyard (780) ox. He stood there with his hands on one of the animal’s horns and, as he spat out dung, said to the Greeks:

  ‘Damn it! It was the goddess tripped me up – the one who always dances attendance on Odysseus, like a mother.’

  So he spoke, and they all laughed delightedly at him. And now Antilochus came in. He took the last prize with a smile and said to the Greeks:

  ‘Friends, I’ll tell you all something you know already. The gods still favour the older man; for though Ajax is only a little (790) older than myself, Odysseus over there is the product of an earlier generation, a positive throwback. But, as they say, there’s life in the old dog yet; and it’s a hard job to beat him in a race - for any of us but Achilles.’

  So he spoke, and complimented swift-footed Achilles. Achilles replied to him and said:

  ‘Antilochus, I cannot allow your tribute to go unrewarded. You’ve won a half-talent of gold already; here’s another.’

  With these words he handed the gold to Antilochus, who received it with delight.

  Achilles son of Peleus now produced and laid out in the gathering a long-shadowed spear, a shield and a helmet, the (800) arms that Patroclus had taken from Sarpedon. He rose and addressed the Greeks:

  Combat: Ajax ties with Diomedes (16.663)

  ‘We now invite our two best men to fight each other for these prizes before the assembled troops. They must put on their armour and use naked weapons. To the one who first hits the other’s fine flesh, I will give this lovely silver-riveted Thracian sword which I took from Asteropaeus. The armour here will be shared (810) between the combatants, and I will also give them a magnificent feast in my hut.’

  So he spoke, and great Ajax son of Telamon rose up, as did Tydeus’ son mighty Diomedes. Each armed himself on his own side of the gathering, and the pair advanced on each other in the centre, in fighting mood and glaring daggers, and all the Greeks looked on, spellbound. When they had come within range of each other, they charged three times, and when they had tried three lunges at each other, Ajax succeeded in piercing Diomedes’ rounded shield. But the spear failed to reach his flesh: he was saved by the body-armour underneath. It was (820) now Diomedes’ turn. Thrusting repeatedly above the rim of Ajax’s large shield, he tried to hit him on the neck with his glittering spear-point. The Greeks were so terrified for Ajax that they called on the combatants to stop and share the prizes. However, Achilles awarded Diomedes the great sword, which he handed to him with its sheath and well-cut shoulder-strap.

  Throwing the lump of metal (6.414)

  Then Achilles son of Peleus laid out a lump of cast iron, which powerful Eëtion used to throw and
which had been carried off on board ship with his other possessions by swift-footed godlike Achilles after he (830) had killed him. Achilles rose and addressed the Greeks:

  ‘Come forward the men to compete for this prize. This lump is big enough to keep the winner in iron for five years or more, even if his farm is out in the wilds. It will not be lack of iron that sends his shepherd or his ploughman in to town. It will provide all his needs.’

  So he spoke, and resolute Polypoetes rose, as did godlike, powerful Leonteus, Ajax son of Telamon and godlike Epeius. They stood in a row, and godlike Epeius picked up the weight, (840) whirled it round and let it fly. But all the Greeks only laughed at his effort. Leonteus ally of the War-god was the next to throw. Then great Ajax son of Telamon hurled it from his mighty hand and passed the marks of all the others. But when it came to resolute Polypoetes’ turn, he overshot the whole field by the distance a herdsman can hurl his throwing-stick when he sends it spinning among a herd of cows. The crowd erupted, and mighty Polypoetes’ men got up and carried off their master’s prize to the hollow ships.

  (850) Then Achilles laid out grey iron as a prize for archery – ten double-headed and ten single-headed axes. He set up the mast of a blue-prowed ship a long way off in the sands; and he had a timid dove tied to it by the foot with a thin cord. He instructed them to make this their target:

  Archery: Meriones wins

  ‘The man who hits the timid dove can take the whole set of double-headed axes home with him. If anyone hits the string and not the bird, he won’t have done so well but he can have the single axes.’

  So he spoke, and mighty lord Teucer rose, as did Meriones, (860) Idomeneus’ brave attendant, and shook lots in a bronze helmet. It fell to Teucer to shoot first and he quickly let fly an arrow with tremendous force. But he had forgotten to promise lord Apollo an impressive offering of first-born lambs and failed to hit the bird – Apollo grudged him that success. Yet he did strike the cord by which the bird was tethered near its foot. The sharp arrow severed the string, and the dove shot up into the sky, leaving the string dangling down. The Greeks roared. But Meriones (870), who had been holding an arrow ready while Teucer aimed, immediately snatched the bow from Teucer’s hands and promptly vowed an impressive offering of first-born lambs to the Archer-god Apollo. He saw the timid dove fluttering high overhead beneath the clouds and as it circled there he hit it from below, plumb in the wing. His arrow went clean through and fell back to stick in the earth in front of his feet, while the bird managed to settle on the mast of the blue-prowed ship, with (880) wings drooping and head down. In a moment it was dead and fell all the way to the ground from the mast-head. The spectators looked on in astonishment. Meriones carried off the set of ten double axes, and Teucer took the single axes to the hollow ships.

  Spear: Agamemnon wins

  Finally Achilles son of Peleus brought into the gathering and laid out a long-shadowed spear and an unused cauldron embossed with flowers, worth an ox. The spear-throwers rose to compete, and wide-ruling Agamemnon, Atreus’ son, and Meriones, Idomeneus’ brave attendant, stood up. But swift-footed godlike Achilles spoke to them:

  (890) ‘Lord Agamemnon, we know by how much you excel the rest of us, and that in throwing the spear no one can compete with your prowess. Accept this prize and take it with you to the hollow ships. If you are agreeable, let us give Meriones the spear. That is what I propose.’

  So he spoke, and Agamemnon lord of men complied, gave Meriones the bronze spear and then handed his own beautiful prize to his herald Talthybius.

  24

  PRIAM AND ACHILLES

  1–21: Achilles cannot sleep for thinking about Patroclus. He drags Hector’s body round Patroclus’ tomb, but APOLLO protects it from disfigurement.

  [Eleven days of Hector’s mistreatment, which began from the day of his death, cf. 24.107–8].

  22–142: [39th day] The other gods pity Hector, but HERA, ATHENE and POSEIDON remain hostile. APOLLO pleads Hector’s case, and ZEUS instructs THETIS to tell Achilles he must return the body. Achilles agrees.

  143–87: ZEUS tells the mourning Priam to take gifts to Achilles and ransom Hector.

  188–321: Priam, after rounding on his sons, sets off, with an omen from ZEUS.

  322–469: [Night before 40th day] HERMES in disguise accompanies Priam safely to Achilles’ quarters.

  469–571: Priam’s supplication of Achilles succeeds. They both weep, and Achilles compares Priam’s fate with that of his own father, Peleus.

  572–691: Priam’s gifts are unloaded, and Hector’s body placed on the waggon. Achilles and Priam eat together. By night HERMES leads Priam secretly away.

  691–784: [40th day] Cassandra sees Priam approaching. Andromache, Hecabe and Helen utter laments. Wood is collected.

  [Nine days to build Hector’s pyre].

  785–804: [49th day] Hector is cremated and [50th day] buried, and a grave-mound set up. A funeral feast is held in Priam’s palace.

  The gathering broke up, and the warriors scattered to their several ships; they were thinking of the pleasures of food and sweet sleep. But Achilles began to weep for his dear companion whom he could not banish from his mind, and all-conquering sleep refused to visit him. He tossed and turned from side to side, always thinking of his loss, of Patroclus’ manliness and spirit, of all they had been through together and the hardships they had endured, of battles against the enemy and dangers at sea. As memories crowded in, the warm tears poured down his (10) cheeks. Sometimes he lay on his side, sometimes on his back and then again on his face. Then he would get up and roam agitatedly along the salt-sea beach.

  Achilles mutilates Hector’s body

  Dawn after dawn as it lit up the sea and coastline never failed to find him there. He would yoke his swift horses to his chariot, tie Hector’s body loosely to the back of it and, when he had hauled it three times round Patroclus’ grave-mound, go back and rest in his hut, leaving the body stretched face downward in the dust. But dead though Hector was, Apollo still felt pity for the man and protected his flesh from all disfigurement. Moreover, he (20) wrapped him in his golden aegis, so that Achilles should not tear his flesh when he was dragging him along.

  So Achilles in his fury disfigured godlike Hector. The blessed gods looked on and took pity on him. They even urged Hermes, sharp-eyed slayer of Argus, to steal the body, but while this found favour with the rest, it had no appeal for Hera, Poseidon or grey-eyed Athene. These hated sacred Ilium and Priam and his people just as much now as when Paris first committed that act of blind folly at the judgement in his shepherd’s hut, when he humiliated Hera and Athene by preferring Aphrodite – whose (30) reward was his fatal lust for women.

  Eleven days went by, and at dawn on the twelfth Phoebus Apollo spoke out to the immortals:

  [Day 39] APOLLO and HERA quarrel over Achilles

  ’You are hard-hearted, you gods – monsters of cruelty. Did Hector never burn for you the thighs of oxen and of unblemished goats? Yet now you will not even go so far as to save his body for his wife, mother and child to see, and for his father Priam and his people to cremate and honour with funeral rites. No, it’s the (40) murderous Achilles you gods choose to support, Achilles, who has no decent feelings in him and remains utterly relentless, like a lion that, when it wants its food, looks to nothing but its own great strength and arrogant appetites and pounces on shepherds’ flocks. Achilles, like the lion, has destroyed pity; he has no respect for others.

  ‘Many a man, I presume, is likely to have lost an even dearer one than he has, a brother borne by the same mother, or maybe a son. He weeps and laments for him, and that is the end of it, since the fates have endowed men with an enduring heart. But (50) Achilles first robs godlike Hector of his life and then ties him to his chariot and drags him round the tomb of his beloved companion. As though that will do him honour or credit! He had better beware of our anger, great man though he is. All he is doing in his fury is disfiguring dumb clay.’

  Angrily, whit
e-armed Hera replied:

  ‘There would be something in what you say, lord of the silver bow, if you gods had it in mind to honour Hector as you do Achilles. But Hector is a mere mortal, who was suckled at a woman’s breast; while Achilles is the son of Thetis, a goddess, (60) whom I myself brought up and took under my wing and gave in marriage to a man, to Peleus, the greatest favourite we had. All you gods came to the wedding. And so did you, Apollo, and sat down at the wedding feast, lyre in hand. But then you always were two-faced, you and your crooked friends.’ Zeus who marshals the clouds replied and said:

  ZEUS orders return of Hector

  ‘Hera, stop losing your temper with the gods. There is no question of putting the two men on the same footing. But the fact remains that Hector was our favourite out of everyone in Ilium. He certainly was mine: he never failed to give me what I like. My altar never lacked its share of generous offerings, libations of wine and the (70) fat from burnt sacrifice, the honour gods have been granted as our right. But we must abandon this idea of secretly stealing Hector’s body. In any case it is not feasible, since Achilles’ mother stays beside him night and day. However, let one of the gods tell Thetis to come here to me. I have a carefully considered solution to suggest, to make Achilles accept a ransom from Priam and release Hector.’