by Homer
The old man godlike Priam replied:
‘If you really are an attendant of Peleus’ son Achilles, come, tell me the whole truth: is my son still by the ships, or has Achilles already cut him up and thrown him piecemeal to his dogs?’
(410) The guide and slayer of Argus replied:
‘So far, venerable sir, neither the dogs nor birds of prey have eaten him. His body is intact and lies there in Achilles’ hut beside his ship, just as it was. And though he has been there for eleven days, his flesh has not decayed at all nor has it been attacked by the worms that devour the bodies of men killed in battle. It is true that every day when bright Dawn appears Achilles drags him mercilessly round the grave-mound of his beloved companion; but that does not defile him. If you went into his hut yourself, you would be astonished to see him lying there as fresh as dew, the blood all washed away and not a mark on (420) him. His wounds too have healed, every wound he had; and there were many men who stabbed him with their spears. This shows what care the blessed gods are taking of your son, dead though he is, because he was very dear to them.’
So he spoke, and the old man rejoiced and said:
‘My child, what an excellent thing it is to give the gods their proper offerings! I am thinking of my son – if ever he was my son – and how he never neglected the gods of Olympus in our home. That is why they are repaying him like this, even though he has met his destiny and died. But here, accept this beautiful (430) cup from me, keep me safe and, under the protecting hand of the gods, escort me till I reach Achilles’ hut.’
The guide and slayer of Argus replied:
‘You are an old man, sir, and I am young, and you are testing me. But you will not persuade me when you tell me to take a bribe behind Achilles’ back. I fear and respect my master too deeply to defraud him: the consequences for myself might be severe. However, I am ready to serve you as escort all the way to my home in famous Thessaly in Greece and to assist you loyally on board ship or on foot. No one would attack you through underestimating your guard.’
(440) Hermes the runner spoke and leapt into the chariot, seized the whip and reins in his hands and put fresh heart into the horses and mules. When they came to the ditch and the wall round the ships, they found the sentries just beginning to prepare a meal. But the guide and slayer of Argus put them all to sleep, unfastened the gates, thrust back the bars and ushered Priam in with his waggon-load of precious gifts.
They went on to the lofty hut of Peleus’ son Achilles. The (450) Myrmidons had built it for their master with planks of deal cut by themselves and roofed it over with a rough thatch of reeds gathered in the meadows. It stood in the large enclosure they made for their master surrounded by a close-set fence, and the gate was fastened by a single pine-wood bar. It took three men to drive this mighty bolt home and three to draw it back; three ordinary men, of course – Achilles could work it by himself. Now Hermes the runner opened it up for the old man, drove in with the splendid presents for swift-footed Achilles, dismounted from the chariot and said to Priam:
Priam left in Achilles’ hut
(460) ‘Venerable sir, an immortal god has been accompanying you. I am Hermes and my father sent me as your escort. But I shall leave you now, as I do not intend to enter into Achilles’ presence. It would be reprehensible for mortals to entertain an immortal god face to face in that way. But go inside yourself, clasp Achilles’ knees and, as you supplicate him, invoke his father and his lovely-haired mother and his son, if you want your words to go straight to his heart.’
With these words Hermes went off to high Olympus. Priam (470) leapt from his chariot to the ground and, leaving Idaeus there to look after the horses and mules, walked straight into the hut where Achilles dear to Zeus usually sat. He found him inside. Most of his men were sitting some way off, but two of them, the warrior Automedon and Alcimedon ally of the War-god, were waiting on him busily, as he had just finished eating and drinking and the table had not yet been removed. Great Priam came in unobserved by them, went up to Achilles, grasped his knees and kissed his hands, those terrible, man-slaying hands (480) that had killed so many of his sons. As a thick cloud of delusion possesses a man who, after murdering someone in his own country, seeks refuge abroad in the home of a wealthy man, and the onlookers are astounded, so Achilles was astounded when he saw godlike Priam. The others were astounded too and exchanged glances.
Supplicating Achilles, Priam addressed him:
Priam supplicates Achilles
‘Remember your own father, godlike Achilles, who is the same age as I am and on the threshold of miserable old age. No doubt his neighbours are tormenting him and there is nobody to protect him from the harm and damage (490) they cause. Yet, while he knows you are still alive, he can rejoice in spirit and look forward day by day to seeing his beloved son come back from Troy.
‘But my life has been dogged by calamity. I had the best sons in the whole of this broad realm and now not one, not one I say, is left. There were fifty when the Greek army arrived. Nineteen of them were borne by one mother and the rest to other women in my palace. Most of them have fallen in action, and the only one I could still count on, the mainstay of Ilium (500) and its inhabitants – you killed him a short while ago, fighting for his native land. Hector. It is to get him back from you that I have now come to the Greek ships, bringing an immense ransom with me.
‘Achilles, respect the gods and have pity on me, remembering your own father. I am even more entitled to pity, since I have brought myself to do something no one else on earth has done – I have raised to my lips the hands of the man who killed my sons.’
With these words he awoke in Achilles a longing to weep for his own father. Taking the old man’s hand, Achilles gently put him from him, and they were both overcome by their (510) memories: Priam, huddled at Achilles’ feet, wept aloud for man-slaying Hector, and Achilles wept for his father, and then again for Patroclus. The house was filled with the sounds of their lamentation. But when godlike Achilles had had enough of tears and the longing had ebbed from mind and body, he leapt at once from his chair and in compassion for the old man’s grey head and grey beard took him by the arm and raised him. Then he spoke winged words:
Achilles counsels Priam
‘Unhappy man of sorrows, you have indeed suffered much. How could you bring yourself to come alone to the Greek ships into the presence of a man (520) who had killed so many of your fine sons? You must have a heart of iron. Here now, be seated on this chair and, for all our grief, let us leave our sorrows locked up in our hearts, for weeping is cold comfort and does little good. We men are wretched creatures and the gods have woven grief into our lives: but they themselves are free from care.
‘Zeus who delights in thunder has two jars standing on the floor of his palace in which he keeps his gifts, evils in one and blessings in the other. People who receive from him a mixture of (530) the two enjoy varying fortunes, sometimes good and sometimes bad. But when Zeus serves a man from the jar of evil only, he debases him; ruinous hunger drives him over the bright earth and he goes his way respected by no one, god or man.
‘Look at my father Peleus. From the moment he was born, the gods showered splendid gifts on him, fortune and wealth unparalleled among men, lordship over the Myrmidons and, though he was a man, a goddess for his wife. But the god also gave him his share of evil – no children in his palace to (540) follow in his steps, only a single son and he destined for an untimely death. What is more, even though he is growing old, he gets no care from me because I am sitting around here in Troy far from the land of my fathers, seeing to you and your children.
‘Now we have heard, venerable sir, there was a time when fortune smiled on you. They say there was no one to compare with you for wealth and sons in all the lands that are enclosed between Lesbos out to sea where Macar reigned, Phrygia inland and the vast Hellespont. But ever since the Sky-gods brought me here to be your scourge, there has been nothing but warfare and carnage round your city.
; (550) ’Endure and do not mourn without end. Lamenting for your son will do no good at all. You will not bring him back to life before you are dead yourself.’
The old man godlike Priam replied:
‘Do not ask me to sit down, Olympian-born Achilles, while Hector lies neglected in your huts, but give him back to me without delay and let me set my eyes on him. Accept the great ransom I bring. May you enjoy it and return safely to the land of your fathers, since from the very first you spared my life.’
Looking blackly at him swift-footed Achilles replied:
(560) ’Now don’t push me too far, venerable sir. I have made my mind up without your help to give Hector back to you. A messenger from Zeus came to me – my very own mother that bore me, daughter of the Old Man of the Sea. What’s more, I know all about you, Priam; you cannot hide the fact that some god brought you to the Greek ships. Nobody, not even a young man, would venture by himself into our camp. For one thing, he would never get past the sentries; and if he did, he would find it hard to shift the bar across the gate. So don’t provoke my grief-stricken heart any more, sir, or I may break the commands (570) of Zeus and, suppliant though you are in my huts, fail to spare your life.’
So he spoke, and the old man was afraid and did as he was told. Then, like a lion, Achilles leapt out of doors, taking with him two of his attendants, the warrior Automedon and Alcime-don, the men closest to him after the dead Patroclus. They unyoked the horses and the mules, brought in the herald, old Priam’s crier, and sat him down. Then they took out of the polished waggon the immense ransom for Hector’s body. But (580) they left a couple of white mantles and a well-woven tunic in which Achilles could wrap the body when he gave it to Priam to take home.
Hector’s body is returned
Achilles then called out some waiting-women and told them to wash and anoint the body but in another part of his quarters, so that Priam should not see his son. Achilles was afraid that Priam, if he saw him, might in the bitterness of his grief be unable to control his anger; and then his own feelings would be provoked into killing the old man and breaking the commands of Zeus. When the waiting-women had washed and anointed the body with olive-oil and wrapped it in the fine mantle and tunic, Achilles lifted it with his own (590) hands on to a bier, and his comrades helped him to put it in the well-polished waggon. Then he gave a groan and called on his dear companion by name:
‘Patroclus, do not be indignant with me if you learn, down in the halls of Hades, that I let his father have godlike Hector back. The ransom he paid me was a worthy one and I will see that you receive your proper share of it.’
Godlike Achilles spoke and returned to his hut, sat down on the inlaid chair he had left – it was on the wall opposite Priam and said:
‘Your demands are granted, venerable sir: your son has been (600) released. He is lying on the bier and at daybreak you will see him for yourself as you take him away. Now let us turn our thoughts to food.
Achilles and Priam eat (Niobe’s story)
‘Even lovely-haired Niobe remembered to eat -and that was after she had seen her twelve children done to death in her own house, six daughters and six sons in their prime. Artemis who delights in arrows had killed the daughters; and Apollo with his silver bow shot down the sons. He was furious with Niobe for seeing herself as the equal of their own mother, lovely-cheeked Leto, and contrasting the many children she had produced with the two that Leto bore. Yet that pair, though they were only two, killed (610) all of hers; and for nine days the children lay in pools of blood, as there was no one to bury them, Zeus son of Cronus having turned the people into stone. But on the tenth day the Sky-gods buried them, and Niobe, exhausted by her tears, made up her mind to take some food. And now, turned to stone, she stands among the crags in the lonely hills of Sipylus – where people say the Nymphs, when they have been dancing on the banks of River Achelous, lay themselves down to sleep. There Niobe broods on the desolation the gods dealt her.
‘So now, venerable lord, let us two also think of food. Later, you can weep once more for your son, when you take him into (620) Ilium. He will indeed be much mourned.’
Swift Achilles spoke, leapt up and slaughtered a white sheep which his men skinned and carefully prepared in the usual manner. They deftly chopped it up into small pieces, pierced the pieces on spits, roasted them carefully and then withdrew them from the fire. Automedon fetched some bread and set it out on the table in handsome baskets; Achilles divided the meat into portions; and they helped themselves to the good things spread before them.
Their hunger and thirst satisfied, Dardanian Priam let his eyes (630) dwell on Achilles and saw with admiration how large and handsome he was, the very image of the gods. And Achilles dwelt with equal admiration on the noble looks and utterance of Dardanian Priam. When they had had their fill of gazing on each other, the old man godlike Priam spoke first:
‘Send me to bed now, Olympian-bred Achilles, so that Idaeus and I can get our fill of sweet sleep. My eyelids have not closed over my eyes since the moment my son lost his life at your hands. Ever since then, I have been lamenting and brood- (640) ing over my countless sorrows, grovelling in the dung in my stable-yard. Now at last I have tasted some food and poured sparkling wine down my throat; but before that I had tasted nothing.’
He spoke, and Achilles instructed his men and waiting-women to put beds in the portico and cover them with fine purple rugs, spread blankets over these and add some thick cloaks on top for covering. Torches in hand, the women left the room and set to work preparing the two beds. Now swift-footed Achilles spoke to Priam, causing him some agitation:
(650) ‘Sleep out of doors, old friend, in case some Greek counsellor pays me a visit. They always come here to discuss tactics with me – it is our custom. If one of them were to see you here at dead of night, he would at once tell Agamemnon shepherd of the people, and your recovery of the body would be delayed. (A truce agreed) Now answer my question and tell me exactly how many days you propose to devote to godlike Hector’s funeral, so that I myself refrain from fighting and ensure the army does too for that space of time.’
The old man godlike Priam replied:
(660) ‘If you really wish me to give godlike Hector a proper funeral, you would do me a kindness, Achilles, by acting as follows. You know how we are cooped up in the town; it is a long journey to the mountains to fetch wood, and the Trojans are afraid of making it. We would be nine days mourning Hector in our homes. On the tenth we would bury him and hold the funeral feast, and on the eleventh build him a grave-mound. On the twelfth we will fight, if we really have to.’
Swift-footed godlike Achilles replied:
‘Venerable Priam, everything shall be as you require. I will (670) hold up the fighting for the time you have demanded.’
With these words he took the old man by the wrist of his right hand to banish all fear from his heart. So Priam and the herald settled down for the night there in the forecourt of the building, with much to occupy their thoughts. But Achilles slept in a corner of his well-made hut; and fair-cheeked Briseis slept beside him.
HERMES escorts Priam
The other gods and fighting men slept through the night, conquered by soft sleep. But Hermes the runner kept wondering how he was going to bring lord Priam away from the ships without the guards noticing; and he could not get to sleep. So he went and stood over Priam’s head and said:
‘Venerable sir, since Achilles spared you, you seem to have no misgivings left, to judge by how soundly you sleep among your enemies. Just now you ransomed your son’s body at a great price: your sons that are left would have to give three times as much to ransom you alive, if Agamemnon son of Atreus and the whole Greek army got to know you were here.’
So he spoke, and the old man was afraid and woke up his (690) herald. Hermes then yoked the mules and horses for them and drove them quickly through the camp himself; they passed unrecognized. As saffron-robed Dawn spread over the world, they reached the ford of the sweetly flowin
g river, eddying Scamander whose father is immortal Zeus. There Hermes set out for high Olympus; and the two men, groaning and lamenting, drove the horses on towards the town while the mules came along with the body.
9[Day 40] Priam returns to Ilium Cassandra, who looked like golden Aphrodite, was the first among the men and women of Troy to recognize them as (700) they came. She had climbed to the top of Pergamus and from that point she saw her dear father standing in the chariot with the herald, his town-crier. Then she saw him too, lying on the bier in the mule-waggon. She gave a scream and shouted aloud for all the town to hear:
‘Troj ans and women of Troy, if ever in the past you welcomed Hector back when he came home safe from battle – a moment for everyone in the town to rejoice – come out and see him now!’
So she spoke, and the whole town was plunged into inconsolable grief. Soon there was not a man or woman left in Ilium. They met Priam with Hector’s body at no great distance from the gates. His dear wife and lady mother threw themselves on 710 the smooth-running waggon, to be the first to tear their hair in mourning for him and touch his head. They were surrounded by a weeping throng. Indeed, they would have stayed there by the gates and wept for Hector all day long till sunset, if the old man had not spoken out from his chariot:
‘Let me through with the mules. You can mourn for Hector to your hearts’ content when I have got him home.’
So he spoke, and they fell back on either side and made a passage for the waggon. When the family had brought Hector (720) into the palace, they laid him on an elaborate bed and set beside him dirge-singers to lead the laments and chant their melancholy songs, while the women took up the cry. White-armed Andromache, holding the head of man-slaying Hector between her hands, began her dirge:
Andromache’s lament (22.477)