Gods and Heroes of Ancient Greece

by Gustav Schwab

  When, on his way back, he passed the ships of Odysseus, he met Eurypylus, wounded in the thigh by an arrow and painfully limping home from battle. He called on the son of Menoetius to soothe his pangs with the arts of Chiron, the centaur, which Achilles had taught him. Patroclus took pity on him and led him into the house, supporting him under the arm. There he laid him down on an oxhide and with a sharp knife cut the arrowhead from his thigh. Then he washed the dark blood away with warm water, ground a bitter herb between his palms, and held it to the wound until the blood began to clot. Thus he tended the wounded hero.

  THE FIGHT AT THE WALL

  The Argives had erected the trench and the wall around their ships without making offerings to the gods, and so it was that these fortifications were not destined to protect them. Now, in the tenth year of the siege, Poseidon and Apollo finally resolved to destroy the whole structure by loosing the mountain streams on it and by churning up the sea. They decided to do this immediately after the fall of Troy.

  The din of battle swelled around the camp, and the Argives, dreading Hector’s fury, crowded against their ships. Hector raged among his men like a lion, bidding them cross the trench. But the horses were afraid. When they reached the edge they reared and snorted, for it was too wide to leap, too steeply sloped to cross, and set with pointed stakes besides. Only foot soldiers could venture the crossing. When Polydamas saw this he took counsel with Hector, saying: “If we forced our horses, we should all be lost and perish ingloriously at the bottom of the trench. So let the charioteers halt at the brink, but we ourselves with our brazen armor will cross on foot under your leadership and break through the wall.”

  Hector approved this plan. At his command all the heroes except the charioteers alighted from the chariots and ranged themselves in five groups: the first under Hector and Polydamas; the second under Paris; Helenus and Deiphobus led the third; Aeneas was in charge of the fourth; Sarpedon and Glaucus headed the fifth, the group of the allies. Of all the warriors only one, Asius, refused to leave his chariot. He turned it to the left where the Argives had reserved a passageway for their own horses and chariots. Here he found the gate wide open, for the Danai were waiting to see if perhaps one of their number would come belatedly to seek refuge in the camp. Asius drove straight for this passage, and other Trojans followed him on foot. But in the entrance were two formidable guards: Polypoetes, son of Pirithous, and Leonteus. They stood at the gate like tall mountain oaks which grip the earth so firmly with roots long and broad that neither winds nor scourging rains can shake them from their place. And suddenly these two hurled themselves at the advancing Trojans, while at the same time a shower of stones rattled from the squat towers of the wall.

  While Asius and his comrades were engaged in this unexpected combat and lost many men, others pressed through the trench on foot and battled for other gates of the camp. Now the Achaeans were concentrating all their strength on defending their ships, and those of the gods who favored them gazed sadly down from Olympus. Only one of the Trojan battalions, that most numerous and with the bravest men, led by Hector and Polydamas, delayed undecided in front of the trench, for they had seen an evil omen: an eagle flying on the left above their host. In his talons he clutched a red snake which squirmed and, curving backward, bit the bird in the neck. Stung with pain, he dropped it and flew away, and the snake fell in the very midst of the Trojans. With horror they watched it writhing in the dust, and they accepted the whole occurrence as a sign from Zeus.

  “Let us stop!” Polydamas, son of Panthous, called to his friend Hector in alarm. “The fate of the eagle who did not succeed in carrying home his prey may be in store for us, too.”

  But Hector said scornfully: “How do birds concern me? Let them fly right or left! I rely on the pledge of Zeus. For me, all that counts is to rescue our country. Why shudder at the thought of the fight? Even if all of us lose our lives at the ships, you still need have no fear of death, for you have not the courage to face the foe. But let me tell you that should you really flee, my own lance will slay you.” So said Hector and strode forward, and all the rest followed him and shouted the savage war cry. Down from the mountains of Ida Zeus sent a great wind that whipped up the dust and swept it on the ships, so that the confidence of the Argives ebbed, while the Trojans, trusting the sign of the Thunderer and their own strength, prepared to destroy the wall of the Danai by tearing down the battlements and digging up the stakes of the palisade.

  But the Argives never faltered. Firm on the ramparts they stood with their shields and greeted the attackers with stones and missiles. The two Ajaces made the rounds on the wall. They spoke to the fighters in the towers, kindly to the brave and menacingly to the slackers. And all the while the stones flew here and there as thick as snowflakes. But Hector could not have broken the massive bolts of the gate had not Zeus incited his son Sarpedon, the Lycian with his gold-rimmed shield, to spring on his enemies like a hungry mountain lion and swiftly say to Glaucus, his friend: “Why should we Lycians have seats of honor at the banquet or why should the brimming cups be offered first to us, as if we were gods, if we do not distinguish ourselves when the fight goes hardest? Come, let us heighten our own glory, or by our death, the glory of others!”

  Glaucus heard and kindled at his comrade’s words, and both stormed straight ahead with their Lycian warriors. Menestheus, looking down from his tower, started when he saw them rage forward, a terror to his countrymen. Timidly he looked about for support. In the distance he could see the two Ajaces, and close at hand Teucer returning from the huts. But his call for help could not reach him. It was thrown back by the clash of helmets and shields and drowned in the roar of battle. So he sent Thootes, the herald, to the two Ajaces with a message for the son of Telamon and his brother Teucer to come to his aid. Ajax the Great did not delay an instant. With Teucer and Pandion who carried his bow he hastened toward the tower along the inside of the wall. They reached Menestheus just as the Lycians were beginning to scale the ramparts. Ajax at once pried loose a jagged piece of rock and with it crushed the helmet and head of Epicles, a friend of Sarpedon’s, so that he plunged from the wall like a diver. And Teucer wounded the bare arm of Glaucus while he was climbing the wall. At that Glaucus secretly left, lest the Achaeans see him and jeer at his wound.

  Stricken with grief, Sarpedon saw his friend steal out of battle, but he himself climbed the wall, pierced Alcmaon, son of Thestor, with his lance, and then shook the rampart so mightily that it gave way, and a path lay open to the Trojans. Ajax and Teucer met the onslaught. Teucer shot an arrow into Sarpedon’s shield strap, while Ajax pierced the shield itself, and the thrust of his lance was so forceful that for a moment the Lycian recoiled. But he regained his position almost at once and turning to his men, cried aloud: “Have you forgotten to join in the attack? I cannot break through alone, not if I were the bravest man in the world. Only by keeping together can we open a path to the ships.” And the Lycians rallied around their king and came up faster. From within, the Argives doubled their resistance, and so the foes stood, separated by nothing but the rampart, lunging savagely at one another, like farmers who, at the border of their fields, fight over their boundaries. Right and left, from towers and ramparts, blood flowed in rivers.

  For a long time the battle was undecided, but at last Zeus gave Hector the upper hand. He reached the gate in the wall, and his men followed him or climbed past on either side. At the gate whose portals were locked by two bolts that met on the inside was a thick stone, pointed at the top. This Hector wrenched from the earth with superhuman strength and beat it against the hinges and planks until the bolts gave way. The gate crashed open, and the heavy stone fell inside. Terrible to behold in the glitter of his brazen armor, like a night of thunder and lightning, Hector leaped through the gate with flashing eyes, brandishing two shining lances. His warriors swarmed after him. Others had scaled the wall by the hundreds. The entrance to the camp was in an uproar, and the Danai fled to their ships.

 
; THE STRUGGLE FOR THE SHIPS

  When Zeus had furthered the fortunes of the Trojans to this point, he left the Achaeans to their misery and, seated on Mount Ida, turned his eyes from the ships and allowed his gaze to rove over the land of Thrace. Poseidon, meanwhile, was far from idle. He sat on one of the highest peaks of wooded Samothrace. Below him lay the summits of Ida, Troy, and the ships of the Danai. Sorrowfully he watched the Argives yield to the Trojans. He left the jagged cliffs, and with four steps—a god’s steps that made the hills and forests quake—he was down on the shore of the sea, near Aegae, where, under the restless waters, stood his palace of gold, bright and imperishable. Here he girt on his golden armor, harnessed his light-maned horses, grasped his glittering goad, swung himself into his chariot, and drove through the tide. The sea monsters recognized their king and, slipping from rifts in the rock, glided about him. Willingly the waves parted to let him pass, and not a drop touched the brazen axle. Quickly he reached the Argive ships. He arrived in a grotto between Tenedos and Imbros. There he unyoked his horses, hobbled them with golden thongs, and fed them on ambrosia. Then he sped into the fury of the fight, where the Trojans were clustered around Hector like storm-clouds and preparing to master the ships.

  Poseidon mingled with the Argives in the shape of Calchas, the soothsayer. First he called to the two Ajaces who needed no urging, for the joy of battle burned fiercely within them. “You two,” he said, “could save your people if only you took stock of your strength. Though the Trojans are crossing the walls in other places too, I have no misgivings, for there our combined forces will be able to fend them off. I fear for us only here, where Hector is raging like a firebrand. O that a god would put into your heads the thought of centering your resistance in this place and inciting others to do likewise!” With these words the Earth-Shaker struck them lightly with his staff. Their courage rose and their limbs grew light, while the god went from them swift as a hawk.

  Ajax, son of Oileus, was the first to know who he was. “Ajax,” he cried to his namesake, “that was not Calchas! It was Poseidon! I know him by his stature and his gait, for the gods are easy to discern. Now my heart longs for the fight that will decide the issue. My feet and hands are tingling.”

  And the son of Telamon replied: “My hands too grasp the spear now firmer. My spirit soars and my feet yearn to fly. I am wild with desire to do single combat with Hector!”

  While they were talking, Poseidon went among the heroes who stood listless and weary by the ships. He stirred their courage until they roused themselves, joined the two Ajaces, and awaited Hector and his Trojans, composed and steadfast. So close they stood that lance crowded on lance, shield on shield, and helmet brushed helmet. The fluttering plumes touched, and the spears quivered in their hands. But the Trojans too were coming in full force, Hector in the van, rushing headlong like a rock pried loose from the peak of a mountain and tearing up trees as it crashes down with unrestrained force.

  “Hold firm, Trojans and Lycians!” he called back over his shoulder. “That well-ordered army over there will scatter before my spear, as surely as the Thunderer is my aid!” So he cried out, spurring the courage of his men. Among them was Deiphobus, Priam’s valiant son, covering himself with his shield and striding defiantly forward, though with muffled tread. Meriones chose him as a target for his lance, but Deiphobus held his great shield well away from his body, and the point broke against it. Vexed at his failure, Meriones turned toward the ships to fetch a sturdier spear from his hut.

  Meanwhile the fight went on and battle cries rose from many throats. Teucer smote Imbrius, son of Mentor, under the ear, and he fell like a towering ash on a mountain top, struck by the axe of a woodsman. Hector strove with Teucer for the body, but instead of him he felled Amphimachus, and as he bent to strip off his helmet the lance of Ajax the Great struck the boss of his shield so that he recoiled; Menestheus and Stichius together bore the body of Amphimachus from the field, while the Ajaces, like two lions snatching a goat from the hounds, carried that of Imbrius back to the Argive ranks.

  Amphimachus was a grandson of Poseidon, and the sea-god was angered by his death. Hastily he went to the huts to fan the flame of Achaean valor. There he found Idomeneus who had taken a wounded friend to the physicians and was just fetching another spear from his house. In the shape of Thoas, son of Andraemon, the god approached him and spoke in ringing tones. “King of the Cretans,” he said, “what of all your threats? Let no one who of his own free will withdraws from battle on this day ever return home from Troy! Sooner shall dogs rend his flesh.”

  “So let it be, Thoas!” Idomeneus called after the vanishing god, and he armed himself with stronger weapons and dashed out of his hut, magnificent as the lightning which Zeus flashes through the sky. At that moment he met Meriones whose spear had broken against the shield of Deiphobus and who was about to get himself a fresh lance. “Valiant hero, I know what you need,” Idomeneus said to him. “You will find at least twenty spears I have won in battle leaning against the wall of my house. Take the best for yourself.” And when Meriones had selected a tall lance, the two returned to battle together and joined those of their friends who were fending off Hector’s onslaught.

  Although Idomeneus was turning gray, he rallied the Argives with youthful fire. The first foe his spear wounded under the belt was Othryoneus, who fought on the side of the Trojans because he was courting Cassandra, the daughter of King Priam. While he was dragging his victim off by the foot, Idomeneus shouted jubilantly: “Now go and wed the daughter of Priam, happy bridegroom! Had you been our ally we would have given you the fairest daughter of the son of Atreus. Come with me to the ships. There we can discuss the marriage; you shall have a fine dowry!” While he was taunting him thus, Asius flew toward him in his chariot to avenge the dead man. Already his arm was raised to smite, when the spear of Idomeneus pierced his throat just under the chin; the point came out through the nape of his neck, and he fell from his chariot and measured his length on the ground. When his charioteer saw this, he was numbed with fear. His hands refused to drive the horses away from the scene, and the lance of Antilochus, son of Nestor, tumbled him from the chariot as well.

  Now Deiphobus advanced toward Idomeneus, determined to avenge the death of Asius, his friend. He cast his spear at the Cretan, but he shifted his shield so deftly that the weapon flew over, grazing the rim with a metallic clang, and on into the liver of Prince Hypsenor, who fell to his knees. “Asius, you are avenged!” sang out the Trojan. “For I have sent you an escort on your way!” Hypsenor, groaning aloud, was carried from the field by two of his companions.

  And still Idomeneus did not lose courage! He slew Alcathous, the son-in-law of Anchises, shouting: “Have we evened our accounts, Deiphobus? I give you three for one! Come and see for yourself whether or not I am sprung from the line of Zeus!” Idomeneus said this because he was the grandson of King Minos and thus the great-grandson of Zeus. For an instant Deiphobus turned over in his mind whether to dare single combat or to call some other brave Trojan to help him. This latter course seemed best, and soon he and Aeneas, his sister’s husband, rushed at Idomeneus. Seeing those warriors coming against him, he did not falter with fear, but awaited them as a boar awaits the hounds. But he too called to friends fighting nearby. “Come and help me who stand alone!” he cried. “For I dread Aeneas, who is great in battle and in the heyday of youth besides.” At his call came Aphareus, Ascalaphus, and Deipyrus, supporting their shields on their shoulders.

  Meanwhile Aeneas too called to his friends Paris and Agenor, and the Trojans followed him as sheep follow the bellwether. Bronze clashed on bronze, and instead of single combat a fight of many men ensued. Aeneas cast his spear at Idomeneus, but it missed and went into the ground. Idomeneus smote Oenomaus in the belly, so that he toppled and, dying, clawed the earth with his hand. The victor only just had time to draw out his spear, for missiles came so hard and fast that he was forced to retreat. But his old feet moved slowly, and Deiphobus, glow
ering with rage, hurled a lance after him which, missing its mark, felled Ascalaphus, son of Ares. The war-god, who by decree of Zeus was held captive in the golden clouds of Olympus along with the other immortals, did not know that a son of his had fallen. As Deiphobus reached for the gleaming helmet of Ascalaphus, Meriones wounded him in the arm, and the helmet rolled to the ground. Meriones sprang forward, snatched his spear from the arm of the wounded man, and darted back into the throng of his comrades. Polites put his arm about the waist of his brother Deiphobus and carried him out of battle, through the trench, and to the waiting chariot which took him, bleeding and weak with pain, to the city.

  The others fought on and on. Aeneas smote Aphareus, and Antilochus, Thoon. Adamas, the Trojan, rushed at Antilochus, but bled to death from the spear thrust of Meriones. Of the Argives, Deipyrus was struck in the temple by the sword of Helenus and rolled along the ranks of the Danai. Full of grief, Menelaus brandished his spear at Helenus who at this moment launched an arrow at the son of Atreus. Menelaus smote the son of Priam, but the spear rebounded from his cuirass. The arrow of Helenus also went astray, and now Menelaus buried his lance in the hand which still held the bow, and Helenus, fleeing toward his friends, dragged the weapon with him. Agenor, his comrade-in-arms, drew the point from his palm and took the woolen sling of one of his companions to bind up the seer’s wound.

  Now evil chance guided Pisander, the Trojan, toward dauntless Menelaus. The son of Atreus missed with his lance; his adversary aimed his spear at Menelaus’ shield, but the shaft broke near the point. Then Menelaus lunged forward with his sword. Pisander drew his long battle-axe from under his shield, and they ran at each other. But the Trojan only grazed the crest of his assailant’s helmet, while the other split his forehead above the nose. His eyes dropped out of their bleeding sockets, and he died racked with anguish. Menelaus set his heel on his breast and said with bitterness and rejoicing: “Dogs! You carried off my young wife with all her treasure, after she had received you with due hospitality. And now you want to throw firebrands among our ships and murder the Argive host! Will you never leave off, insatiable fighters that you are?” Thus he spoke, and he stripped the bloodstained armor from the corpse and gave it to his friends for safekeeping. Then he forged to the front again and with his shield caught the lance which Harpalion hurled at him. Meriones smote him who had cast it in the thigh, and the dying Harpalion was lifted into the chariot by his father Pylaemenes. This roused Paris, and furiously he shot at Euchenor of Corinth, who happened to cross his path, and the arrow pierced his ear and cheek.