Patroclus Fights in Achilles’ Armour and Falls

Thus did they fight about the ship of Protesilaus. Then Patroclus drew near to Achilles with tears welling from his eyes, as from some spring whose crystal stream falls over the ledges of a high precipice. When Achilles saw him thus weeping he was sorry for him and said, “Why, Patroclus, do you stand there weeping like some silly child that comes running to her mother, and begs to be taken up and carried—she catches hold of her mother’s dress to stay her though she is in a hurry, and looks tearfully up until her mother carries her—even such tears, Patroclus, are you now shedding. Have you anything to say to the Myrmidons or to myself? or have you had news from Phthia which you alone know? They tell me Menoetius son of Actor is still alive, as also Peleus son of Aeacus, among the Myrmidons—men whose loss we two should bitterly deplore; or are you grieving about the Argives and the way in which they are being killed at the ships, through their own high-handed doings? Do not hide anything from me but tell me that both of us may know about it.”

So they fought around the ship of Protesilaus. Then Patroclus approached Achilles with tears streaming from his eyes, like a clear spring flowing over a high cliff’s ledges. Achilles felt sorry for him when he saw him weeping and said, “Why, Patroclus, are you crying like a silly little girl who runs to her mother, begging to be carried? She grabs her mother’s dress to stop her, though her mother is in a hurry. She looks up tearfully until her mother picks her up. You are shedding tears just like hers, Patroclus. Do you have something to tell the Myrmidons or me? Or have you heard news from Phthia that only you know? I hear that Menoetius son of Actor is still alive, as is Peleus son of Aeacus, among the Myrmidons. We would both grieve deeply if we lost those men. Or are you grieving for the Argives, who are being killed beside the ships because of their own arrogance? Hide nothing from me. Tell me, so we can both know.”

Then, O knight Patroclus, with a deep sigh you answered, “Achilles, son of Peleus, foremost champion of the Achaeans, do not be angry, but I weep for the disaster that has now befallen the Argives. All those who have been their champions so far are lying at the ships, wounded by sword or spear. Brave Diomed son of Tydeus has been hit with a spear, while famed Ulysses and Agamemnon have received sword-wounds; Eurypylus again has been struck with an arrow in the thigh; skilled apothecaries are attending to these heroes, and healing them of their wounds; are you still, O Achilles, so inexorable? May it never be my lot to nurse such a passion as you have done, to the baning of your own good name. Who in future story will speak well of you unless you now save the Argives from ruin? You know no pity; knight Peleus was not your father nor Thetis your mother, but the grey sea bore you and the sheer cliffs begot you, so cruel and remorseless are you. If however you are kept back through knowledge of some oracle, or if your mother Thetis has told you something from the mouth of Jove, at least send me and the Myrmidons with me, if I may bring deliverance to the Danaans. Let me moreover wear your armour; the Trojans may thus mistake me for you and quit the field, so that the hard-pressed sons of the Achaeans may have breathing time—which while they are fighting may hardly be. We who are fresh might soon drive tired men back from our ships and tents to their own city.”

Then, Patroclus, you answered with a deep sigh, “Achilles, son of Peleus, greatest warrior of the Achaeans, do not be angry. I weep for the disaster that has now struck the Argives. All their leading warriors so far lie wounded at the ships, struck by swords or spears. Brave Diomed, son of Tydeus, has been struck by a spear. Famed Ulysses and Agamemnon have sword wounds. Eurypylus has been struck by an arrow in the thigh. Skilled healers are caring for these heroes and healing their wounds. Are you still so unyielding, Achilles? May I never hold on to anger as you have, ruining your own good name. Who will speak well of you in future stories unless you now save the Argives from destruction? You have no pity. The warrior Peleus was not your father, nor was Thetis your mother. Instead, the gray sea gave birth to you, and the sheer cliffs fathered you, so cruel and merciless are you. “But if knowledge of some prophecy holds you back, or your mother Thetis has brought you word from Jove, send me at least. Send the Myrmidons with me, in case I may bring rescue to the Danaans. Let me wear your armor too. The Trojans may mistake me for you and leave the battlefield, giving the hard-pressed Achaeans time to breathe. They can hardly get that relief while they are fighting. We are fresh and might soon drive the tired Trojans from our ships and tents back to their own city.”

He knew not what he was asking, nor that he was suing for his own destruction. Achilles was deeply moved and answered, “What, noble Patroclus, are you saying? I know no prophesyings which I am heeding, nor has my mother told me anything from the mouth of Jove, but I am cut to the very heart that one of my own rank should dare to rob me because he is more powerful than I am. This, after all that I have gone through, is more than I can endure. The girl whom the sons of the Achaeans chose for me, whom I won as the fruit of my spear on having sacked a city—her has King Agamemnon taken from me as though I were some common vagrant. Still, let bygones be bygones: no man may keep his anger for ever; I said I would not relent till battle and the cry of war had reached my own ships; nevertheless, now gird my armour about your shoulders, and lead the Myrmidons to battle, for the dark cloud of Trojans has burst furiously over our fleet; the Argives are driven back on to the beach, cooped within a narrow space, and the whole people of Troy has taken heart to sally out against them, because they see not the visor of my helmet gleaming near them. Had they seen this, there would not have been a creek nor grip that had not been filled with their dead as they fled back again. And so it would have been, if only King Agamemnon had dealt fairly by me. As it is the Trojans have beset our host. Diomed son of Tydeus no longer wields his spear to defend the Danaans, neither have I heard the voice of the son of Atreus coming from his hated head, whereas that of murderous Hector rings in my cars as he gives orders to the Trojans, who triumph over the Achaeans and fill the whole plain with their cry of battle. But even so, Patroclus, fall upon them and save the fleet, lest the Trojans fire it and prevent us from being able to return. Do, however, as I now bid you, that you may win me great honour from all the Danaans, and that they may restore the girl to me again and give me rich gifts into the bargain. When you have driven the Trojans from the ships, come back again. Though Juno’s thundering husband should put triumph within your reach, do not fight the Trojans further in my absence, or you will rob me of glory that should be mine. And do not for lust of battle go on killing the Trojans nor lead the Achaeans on to Ilius, lest one of the ever-living gods from Olympus attack you—for Phoebus Apollo loves them well: return when you have freed the ships from peril, and let others wage war upon the plain. Would, by father Jove, Minerva, and Apollo, that not a single man of all the Trojans might be left alive, nor yet of the Argives, but that we two might be alone left to tear aside the mantle that veils the brow of Troy.”

He did not know what he was asking, or that he was pleading for his own destruction. Achilles was deeply moved and answered, “What are you saying, noble Patroclus? I am not following any prophecy. Nor has my mother told me anything spoken by Jove. But I am hurt to the heart. A man of my own rank has dared to rob me because he is more powerful than I am. After all I have suffered, this is more than I can bear. The sons of the Achaeans chose that girl for me. I won her with my spear when I sacked a city. Yet King Agamemnon has taken her from me as though I were some common vagrant. Still, let the past be past. No man can hold on to his anger forever. I said I would not give way until the fighting and the battle cries reached my own ships. Nevertheless, put my armour on your shoulders now and lead the Myrmidons into battle. The dark cloud of Trojans has swept fiercely over our fleet. The Argives have been driven back onto the beach, trapped in a narrow space. All the people of Troy have found the courage to come out against them. They cannot see the visor of my helmet gleaming nearby. Had they seen it, every creek and ditch would have been filled with their dead as they fled back. That is how it would have been, if only King Agamemnon had treated me fairly. As things stand, the Trojans have surrounded our army. Diomed son of Tydeus no longer fights with his spear to defend the Danaans. Nor have I heard the voice of the son of Atreus coming from his hated head. Instead, murderous Hector’s voice rings in my ears as he gives orders to the Trojans. They are triumphing over the Achaeans and filling the whole plain with their battle cries. Even so, Patroclus, attack them and save the fleet. Otherwise, the Trojans may burn the ships and leave us unable to return home. But follow my orders now, so that you may win me great honour among all the Danaans. Then they may return the girl to me and give me rich gifts as well. Once you have driven the Trojans from the ships, come back. Even if Juno’s thundering husband puts victory within your reach, do not keep fighting the Trojans without me. Otherwise, you will rob me of glory that should be mine. Do not let your hunger for battle drive you to keep killing Trojans or lead the Achaeans to Ilius. One of the immortal gods from Olympus might attack you, for Phoebus Apollo dearly loves the Trojans. Return when you have saved the ships from danger, and let others fight on the plain. By father Jove, Minerva, and Apollo, I wish that not a single Trojan might be left alive. Nor a single Argive. I wish that only we two might survive to tear away the mantle that veils Troy’s brow.”

Thus did they converse. But Ajax could no longer hold his ground for the shower of darts that rained upon him; the will of Jove and the javelins of the Trojans were too much for him; the helmet that gleamed about his temples rang with the continuous clatter of the missiles that kept pouring on to it and on to the cheek-pieces that protected his face. Moreover his left shoulder was tired with having held his shield so long, yet for all this, let fly at him as they would, they could not make him give ground. He could hardly draw his breath, the sweat rained from every pore of his body, he had not a moment’s respite, and on all sides he was beset by danger upon danger.

So they talked. But Ajax could no longer hold his ground under the shower of spears raining down on him. The will of Jove and the Trojans’ javelins were too much for him. The shining helmet around his temples rang with the constant clatter of missiles. The missiles kept striking the helmet and the cheek guards protecting his face. His left shoulder was also tired from holding his shield for so long. Yet despite all this, however much the Trojans hurled at him, they could not force him back. He could hardly breathe, and sweat poured from every pore of his body. He had not a moment’s rest, and danger pressed on him from every side.

And now, tell me, O Muses that hold your mansions on Olympus, how fire was thrown upon the ships of the Achaeans. Hector came close up and let drive with his great sword at the ashen spear of Ajax. He cut it clean in two just behind where the point was fastened on to the shaft of the spear. Ajax, therefore, had now nothing but a headless spear, while the bronze point flew some way off and came ringing down on to the ground. Ajax knew the hand of heaven in this, and was dismayed at seeing that Jove had now left him utterly defenceless and was willing victory for the Trojans. Therefore he drew back, and the Trojans flung fire upon the ship which was at once wrapped in flame.

Now tell me, Muses who live on Olympus, how fire was thrown onto the ships of the Achaeans. Hector came close and swung his great sword at Ajax’s ash-wood spear. He cut the spear clean in two, just behind the spot where the point joined the shaft. Ajax now had only a spear without a head. The bronze point flew some distance away and fell to the ground with a ringing sound. Ajax recognized the hand of heaven in the blow and was dismayed. He saw that Jove had left him completely defenseless and wanted the Trojans to win. So Ajax fell back, and the Trojans threw fire onto the ship. The ship was immediately engulfed in flames.

The fire was now flaring about the ship’s stern, whereon Achilles smote his two thighs and said to Patroclus, “Up, noble knight, for I see the glare of hostile fire at our fleet; up, lest they destroy our ships, and there be no way by which we may retreat. Gird on your armour at once while I call our people together.”

Fire was now blazing around the ship’s stern. Achilles slapped both his thighs and said to Patroclus, “Get up, noble warrior, for I see enemy fire at our fleet. Hurry, before the enemy destroys our ships and leaves us no way to retreat. Put on your armor at once while I gather our people.”

As he spoke Patroclus put on his armour. First he greaved his legs with greaves of good make, and fitted with ancle-clasps of silver; after this he donned the cuirass of the son of Aeacus, richly inlaid and studded. He hung his silver-studded sword of bronze about his shoulders, and then his mighty shield. On his comely head he set his helmet, well wrought, with a crest of horse-hair that nodded menacingly above it. He grasped two redoubtable spears that suited his hands, but he did not take the spear of noble Achilles, so stout and strong, for none other of the Achaeans could wield it, though Achilles could do so easily. This was the ashen spear from Mount Pelion, which Chiron had cut upon a mountain top and had given to Peleus, wherewith to deal out death among heroes. He bade Automedon yoke his horses with all speed, for he was the man whom he held in honour next after Achilles, and on whose support in battle he could rely most firmly. Automedon therefore yoked the fleet horses Xanthus and Balius, steeds that could fly like the wind: these were they whom the harpy Podarge bore to the west wind, as she was grazing in a meadow by the waters of the river Oceanus. In the side traces he set the noble horse Pedasus, whom Achilles had brought away with him when he sacked the city of Eetion, and who, mortal steed though he was, could take his place along with those that were immortal.

As he spoke, Patroclus put on his armour. First he covered his shins with well-made greaves fitted with silver ankle clasps. Then he put on the richly inlaid and studded breastplate of the son of Aeacus. He slung his bronze sword, studded with silver, over his shoulders, then his mighty shield. On his handsome head he placed a finely made helmet. Its horsehair crest nodded menacingly above it. He gripped two fearsome spears that fit his hands. But he did not take the thick, strong spear of noble Achilles. No other Achaean could wield that spear, though Achilles could handle it easily. The spear was made of ash from Mount Pelion. Chiron had cut it on a mountaintop and given it to Peleus to bring death among heroes. Patroclus ordered Automedon to harness his horses as quickly as possible. He honoured Automedon above everyone except Achilles and could rely most firmly on his support in battle. So Automedon harnessed the swift horses Xanthus and Balius, who could fly like the wind. The harpy Podarge had borne them to the west wind while grazing in a meadow beside the river Oceanus. In the side traces, Automedon harnessed the noble horse Pedasus. Achilles had brought Pedasus back with him after sacking the city of Eetion. Though Pedasus was mortal, he could take his place alongside the immortal horses.

Meanwhile Achilles went about everywhere among the tents, and bade his Myrmidons put on their armour. Even as fierce ravening wolves that are feasting upon a homed stag which they have killed upon the mountains, and their jaws are red with blood—they go in a pack to lap water from the clear spring with their long thin tongues; and they reek of blood and slaughter; they know not what fear is, for it is hunger drives them—even so did the leaders and counsellors of the Myrmidons gather round the good squire of the fleet descendant of Aeacus, and among them stood Achilles himself cheering on both men and horses.

Meanwhile, Achilles went from tent to tent, telling his Myrmidons to put on their armor. The Myrmidon leaders and advisers were like fierce, ravenous wolves feasting on a horned stag killed in the mountains. The wolves’ jaws are red with blood. They move in a pack to lap water from a clear spring with their long, thin tongues. They reek of blood and slaughter. They know no fear, for hunger drives them. Just like these wolves, the Myrmidon leaders and advisers gathered around the worthy attendant of the swift descendant of Aeacus. Achilles himself stood among them, urging on both men and horses.

Fifty ships had noble Achilles brought to Troy, and in each there was a crew of fifty oarsmen. Over these he set five captains whom he could trust, while he was himself commander over them all. Menesthius of the gleaming corslet, son to the river Spercheius that streams from heaven, was captain of the first company. Fair Polydora daughter of Peleus bore him to ever-flowing Spercheius—a woman mated with a god—but he was called son of Borus son of Perieres, with whom his mother was living as his wedded wife, and who gave great wealth to gain her. The second company was led by noble Eudorus, son to an unwedded woman. Polymele, daughter of Phylas the graceful dancer, bore him; the mighty slayer of Argos was enamoured of her as he saw her among the singing women at a dance held in honour of Diana the rushing huntress of the golden arrows; he therefore—Mercury, giver of all good—went with her into an upper chamber, and lay with her in secret, whereon she bore him a noble son Eudorus, singularly fleet of foot and in fight valiant. When Ilithuia goddess of the pains of childbirth brought him to the light of day, and he saw the face of the sun, mighty Echecles son of Actor took the mother to wife, and gave great wealth to gain her, but her father Phylas brought the child up, and took care of him, doting as fondly upon him as though he were his own son. The third company was led by Pisander son of Maemalus, the finest spearman among all the Myrmidons next to Achilles’ own comrade Patroclus. The old knight Phoenix was captain of the fourth company, and Alcimedon, noble son of Laerceus of the fifth.

Noble Achilles had brought fifty ships to Troy, each with a crew of fifty oarsmen. He put five trusted captains in charge, while he commanded them all. Menesthius, who wore a gleaming breastplate, led the first company. He was the son of the river Spercheius, which flows from heaven. Fair Polydora, daughter of Peleus, bore him to ever-flowing Spercheius, a mortal woman who lay with a god. But Menesthius was called the son of Borus, son of Perieres. His mother lived with Borus as his wife, and Borus had given great wealth to marry her. Noble Eudorus led the second company. His mother was unmarried when she bore him. She was Polymele, daughter of Phylas, and a graceful dancer. The mighty slayer of Argos fell in love with her when he saw her dancing among the singing women. The dance honored Diana, the swift huntress with golden arrows. So Mercury, giver of all good things, went with Polymele into an upstairs room and secretly slept with her. She then bore him a noble son, Eudorus, exceptionally swift on his feet and brave in battle. Ilithuia, goddess of the pains of childbirth, brought Eudorus into daylight, and he saw the sun’s face. Then mighty Echecles, son of Actor, married his mother, giving great wealth to win her. But her father Phylas raised the child and cared for him. He doted on Eudorus as fondly as though the boy were his own son. Pisander, son of Maemalus, led the third company. Among all the Myrmidons, only Achilles’ own companion Patroclus was a better spearman. The old warrior Phoenix led the fourth company. Alcimedon, noble son of Laerceus, led the fifth.

When Achilles had chosen his men and had stationed them all with their captains, he charged them straitly saying, “Myrmidons, remember your threats against the Trojans while you were at the ships in the time of my anger, and you were all complaining of me. ‘Cruel son of Peleus,’ you would say, ‘your mother must have suckled you on gall, so ruthless are you. You keep us here at the ships against our will; if you are so relentless it were better we went home over the sea.’ Often have you gathered and thus chided with me. The hour is now come for those high feats of arms that you have so long been pining for, therefore keep high hearts each one of you to do battle with the Trojans.”

Achilles chose his men and stationed them all with their captains. Then he gave them strict orders: “Myrmidons, remember your threats against the Trojans while you were at the ships during my anger. You were all complaining about me. ‘Cruel son of Peleus,’ you would say, ‘your mother must have nursed you on gall, you are so ruthless. You keep us here at the ships against our will. If you are so unyielding, we would be better off sailing home.’ Often you gathered and scolded me like this. Now the time has come for the great deeds in battle you have wanted for so long. So take courage, every one of you, and fight the Trojans.”

With these words he put heart and soul into them all, and they serried their companies yet more closely when they heard the words of their king. As the stones which a builder sets in the wall of some high house which is to give shelter from the winds—even so closely were the helmets and bossed shields set against one another. Shield pressed on shield, helm on helm, and man on man; so close were they that the horse-hair plumes on the gleaming ridges of their helmets touched each other as they bent their heads.

With these words, he filled them all with courage and spirit. Hearing their king’s words, they drew their ranks even closer together. Their helmets and shields with raised centers fitted together like stones a builder lays in a tall house’s wall. The house is meant to provide shelter from the winds. Shield pressed against shield, helmet against helmet, and man against man. They stood so close that, when they lowered their heads, their horsehair plumes touched above their helmets’ gleaming ridges.

In front of them all two men put on their armour—Patroclus and Automedon—two men, with but one mind to lead the Myrmidons. Then Achilles went inside his tent and opened the lid of the strong chest which silver-footed Thetis had given him to take on board ship, and which she had filled with shirts, cloaks to keep out the cold, and good thick rugs. In this chest he had a cup of rare workmanship, from which no man but himself might drink, nor would he make offering from it to any other god save only to father Jove. He took the cup from the chest and cleansed it with sulphur; this done he rinsed it clean water, and after he had washed his hands he drew wine. Then he stood in the middle of the court and prayed, looking towards heaven, and making his drink-offering of wine; nor was he unseen of Jove whose joy is in thunder. “King Jove,” he cried, “lord of Dodona, god of the Pelasgi, who dwellest afar, you who hold wintry Dodona in your sway, where your prophets the Selli dwell around you with their feet unwashed and their couches made upon the ground—if you heard me when I prayed to you aforetime, and did me honour while you sent disaster on the Achaeans, vouchsafe me now the fulfilment of yet this further prayer. I shall stay here where my ships are lying, but I shall send my comrade into battle at the head of many Myrmidons. Grant, O all-seeing Jove, that victory may go with him; put your courage into his heart that Hector may learn whether my squire is man enough to fight alone, or whether his might is only then so indomitable when I myself enter the turmoil of war. Afterwards when he has chased the fight and the cry of battle from the ships, grant that he may return unharmed, with his armour and his comrades, fighters in close combat.”

In front of them all, Patroclus and Automedon put on their armour. The two men shared one purpose: to lead the Myrmidons. Then Achilles went inside his tent and opened a sturdy chest. Silver-footed Thetis had given him the chest to take aboard his ship. She had filled it with shirts, warm cloaks, and thick rugs. In the chest he kept a finely crafted cup. No one but Achilles could drink from it. He used it to pour offerings to no god except father Jove. He took the cup from the chest and purified it with sulphur. Then he rinsed the cup with clean water, washed his hands, and filled it with wine. He stood in the middle of the courtyard and looked toward heaven. As he prayed, he poured out the wine as an offering. Jove, who delights in thunder, saw him. “King Jove,” he cried, “lord of Dodona, god of the Pelasgi, you who live far away and rule wintry Dodona. Your prophets, the Selli, live around you there, with unwashed feet, sleeping on the ground. If you heard my earlier prayer and honoured me while bringing disaster on the Achaeans, grant this further prayer now. I will stay here beside my ships, but I will send my comrade into battle, leading many Myrmidons. All-seeing Jove, grant him victory. Fill his heart with your courage so Hector may learn whether my squire is strong enough to fight alone. Or does his strength become unstoppable only when I enter the turmoil of battle myself? Once he has driven the fighting and the cries of battle away from the ships, let him return unharmed. Let him bring back his armour and his comrades, who fight at close quarters.”

Thus did he pray, and all-counselling Jove heard his prayer. Part of it he did indeed vouchsafe him—but not the whole. He granted that Patroclus should thrust back war and battle from the ships, but refused to let him come safely out of the fight.

So he prayed, and Jove, wise in all things, heard his prayer. Jove granted part of his prayer, but not all of it. He allowed Patroclus to drive war and battle back from the ships. But he refused to let Patroclus return safely from the fight.

When he had made his drink-offering and had thus prayed, Achilles went inside his tent and put back the cup into his chest.

After pouring his drink offering and praying, Achilles went inside his tent. He put the cup back in his chest.

Then he again came out, for he still loved to look upon the fierce fight that raged between the Trojans and Achaeans.

Then he came out again because he still loved watching the fierce battle between the Trojans and Achaeans.

Meanwhile the armed band that was about Patroclus marched on till they sprang high in hope upon the Trojans. They came swarming out like wasps whose nests are by the roadside, and whom silly children love to tease, whereon any one who happens to be passing may get stung—or again, if a wayfarer going along the road vexes them by accident, every wasp will come flying out in a fury to defend his little ones—even with such rage and courage did the Myrmidons swarm from their ships, and their cry of battle rose heavenwards. Patroclus called out to his men at the top of his voice, “Myrmidons, followers of Achilles son of Peleus, be men my friends, fight with might and with main, that we may win glory for the son of Peleus, who is far the foremost man at the ships of the Argives—he, and his close fighting followers. The son of Atreus King Agamemnon will thus learn his folly in showing no respect to the bravest of the Achaeans.”

Meanwhile, the armed men around Patroclus marched on, then charged at the Trojans with high hopes. They swarmed out like wasps with nests beside the road, which foolish children love to torment. As a result, anyone passing by may get stung. Or if a traveler accidentally disturbs the wasps, every wasp flies out in fury to defend its young. With that same fury and courage, the Myrmidons swarmed from their ships, their battle cry rising to heaven. Patroclus shouted to his men at the top of his voice, “Myrmidons, followers of Achilles son of Peleus, be brave, my friends. Fight with all your strength so we may win glory for the son of Peleus. He is by far the greatest warrior at the ships of the Argives, with his followers fighting close beside him. Then King Agamemnon, son of Atreus, will learn how foolish he was to disrespect the bravest of the Achaeans.”

With these words he put heart and soul into them all, and they fell in a body upon the Trojans. The ships rang again with the cry which the Achaeans raised, and when the Trojans saw the brave son of Menoetius and his squire all gleaming in their armour, they were daunted and their battalions were thrown into confusion, for they thought the fleet son of Peleus must now have put aside his anger, and have been reconciled to Agamemnon; every one, therefore, looked round about to see whither he might fly for safety.

With these words, he filled them all with courage, and they attacked the Trojans together. The ships echoed with the Achaeans’ battle cry. The Trojans saw the brave son of Menoetius and his squire, both gleaming in their armor. The sight frightened the Trojans and threw their ranks into confusion. They thought the swift son of Peleus must now have set aside his anger and made peace with Agamemnon. So every Trojan looked around for somewhere to flee to safety.

Patroclus first aimed a spear into the middle of the press where men were packed most closely, by the stern of the ship of Protesilaus. He hit Pyraechmes who had led his Paeonian horsemen from the Amydon and the broad waters of the river Axius; the spear struck him on the right shoulder, and with a groan he fell backwards in the dust; on this his men were thrown into confusion, for by killing their leader, who was the finest soldier among them, Patroclus struck panic into them all. He thus drove them from the ship and quenched the fire that was then blazing—leaving the half-burnt ship to lie where it was. The Trojans were now driven back with a shout that rent the skies, while the Danaans poured after them from their ships, shouting also without ceasing. As when Jove, gatherer of the thunder-cloud, spreads a dense canopy on the top of some lofty mountain, and all the peaks, the jutting headlands, and forest glades show out in the great light that flashes from the bursting heavens, even so when the Danaans had now driven back the fire from their ships, they took breath for a little while; but the fury of the fight was not yet over, for the Trojans were not driven back in utter rout, but still gave battle, and were ousted from their ground only by sheer fighting.

Patroclus first aimed his spear into the thickest crowd of men, near the stern of Protesilaus’s ship. He hit Pyraechmes, who had led his Paeonian horsemen from the Amydon and the broad waters of the river Axius. The spear struck Pyraechmes in the right shoulder, and he fell backward into the dust with a groan. His men fell into confusion. By killing their leader, the finest soldier among them, Patroclus had struck panic into them all. So Patroclus drove them from the ship and put out the blazing fire, leaving the half-burned ship where it lay. The Trojans were now driven back with a shout that tore through the skies. The Danaans poured after them from their ships, also shouting without pause. Just as Jove, who gathers the thunderclouds, spreads a thick canopy over the top of some high mountain, light breaks through. All the peaks, jutting headlands, and forest clearings stand out in the brilliant light flashing from the opening heavens. So too, once the Danaans had driven the fire back from their ships, they caught their breath for a while. But the fury of battle was not yet over. The Trojans had not been driven into a complete rout and still fought back. Only hard fighting forced them from their ground.

The fight then became more scattered, and the chieftains killed one another when and how they could. The valiant son of Menoetius first drove his spear into the thigh of Areilycus just as he was turning round; the point went clean through, and broke the bone so that he fell forward. Meanwhile Menelaus struck Thoas in the chest, where it was exposed near the rim of his shield, and he fell dead. The son of Phyleus saw Amphiclus about to attack him, and ere he could do so took aim at the upper part of his thigh, where the muscles are thicker than in any other part; the spear tore through all the sinews of the leg, and his eyes were closed in darkness. Of the sons of Nestor one, Antilochus, speared Atymnius, driving the point of the spear through his throat, and down he fell. Maris then sprang on Antilochus in hand-to-hand fight to avenge his brother, and bestrode the body spear in hand; but valiant Thrasymedes was too quick for him, and in a moment had struck him in the shoulder ere he could deal his blow; his aim was true, and the spear severed all the muscles at the root of his arm, and tore them right down to the bone, so he fell heavily to the ground and his eyes were closed in darkness. Thus did these two noble comrades of Sarpedon go down to Erebus slain by the two sons of Nestor; they were the warrior sons of Amisodorus, who had reared the invincible Chimaera, to the bane of many. Ajax son of Oileus sprang on Cleobulus and took him alive as he was entangled in the crush; but he killed him then and there by a sword-blow on the neck. The sword reeked with his blood, while dark death and the strong hand of fate gripped him and closed his eyes.

The fighting then spread out, and the chieftains killed one another whenever and however they could. The brave son of Menoetius struck first, driving his spear into Areilycus’s thigh just as Areilycus was turning around. The point went clean through and broke the bone, so Areilycus fell forward. Meanwhile, Menelaus struck Thoas in the chest, where his body was exposed near the edge of his shield. Thoas fell dead. The son of Phyleus saw Amphiclus about to attack him. Before Amphiclus could strike, the son of Phyleus aimed at his upper thigh, where the muscles are thickest. The spear tore through all the tendons in Amphiclus’s leg, and darkness closed over his eyes. Antilochus, one of Nestor’s sons, drove his spear through Atymnius’s throat, and Atymnius fell. Maris then rushed at Antilochus to fight him hand to hand and avenge his brother. He stood over his brother’s body, spear in hand. But brave Thrasymedes was too quick for Maris and struck him in the shoulder before he could land his blow. Thrasymedes’s aim was true. His spear severed all the muscles where Maris’s arm joined his shoulder, tearing right down to the bone. So Maris fell heavily to the ground, and darkness closed over his eyes. Thus these two noble comrades of Sarpedon went down to Erebus, killed by Nestor’s two sons. The dead brothers were the warrior sons of Amisodorus, who had raised the invincible Chimaera, bringing ruin to many. Ajax son of Oileus sprang on Cleobulus and captured him alive as he struggled in the crush. But Ajax killed him then and there with a sword blow to the neck. The sword reeked with Cleobulus’s blood. Dark death and the strong hand of fate gripped Cleobulus and closed his eyes.

Peneleos and Lycon now met in close fight, for they had missed each other with their spears. They had both thrown without effect, so now they drew their swords. Lycon struck the plumed crest of Peneleos’ helmet but his sword broke at the hilt, while Peneleos smote Lycon on the neck under the ear. The blade sank so deep that the head was held on by nothing but the skin, and there was no more life left in him. Meriones gave chase to Acamas on foot and caught him up just as he was about to mount his chariot; he drove a spear through his right shoulder so that he fell headlong from the car, and his eyes were closed in darkness. Idomeneus speared Erymas in the mouth; the bronze point of the spear went clean through it beneath the brain, crashing in among the white bones and smashing them up. His teeth were all of them knocked out and the blood came gushing in a stream from both his eyes; it also came gurgling up from his mouth and nostrils, and the darkness of death enfolded him round about.

Peneleos and Lycon now fought at close range because their spears had missed each other. Both had thrown their spears without success, so they drew their swords. Lycon struck the feathered crest of Peneleos’ helmet, but his sword broke at the hilt. Peneleos struck Lycon on the neck below the ear. The blade sank so deep that only skin held Lycon’s head on, and no life remained in him. Meriones chased Acamas on foot and caught him just as Acamas was about to climb into his chariot. Meriones drove a spear through Acamas’s right shoulder, so that Acamas fell headfirst from the chariot. Darkness closed over his eyes. Idomeneus stabbed Erymas in the mouth with his spear. The bronze spearhead passed straight through his mouth beneath the brain, crashing into the white bones and shattering them. All his teeth were knocked out, and blood gushed in a stream from both his eyes. Blood also gurgled up from his mouth and nostrils, and the darkness of death surrounded him.

Thus did these chieftains of the Danaans each of them kill his man. As ravening wolves seize on kids or lambs, fastening on them when they are alone on the hillsides and have strayed from the main flock through the carelessness of the shepherd—and when the wolves see this they pounce upon them at once because they cannot defend themselves—even so did the Danaans now fall on the Trojans, who fled with ill-omened cries in their panic and had no more fight left in them.

Each of these Danaan chieftains killed his man. Ravenous wolves seize young goats or lambs when they find them alone on the hillsides. The animals have strayed from the main flock because of the shepherd’s carelessness. When wolves spot these helpless animals, they pounce at once because their prey cannot defend themselves. In just this way, the Danaans fell on the Trojans. The Trojans fled in panic with cries that foretold disaster, and had no fight left in them.

Meanwhile great Ajax kept on trying to drive a spear into Hector, but Hector was so skilful that he held his broad shoulders well under cover of his ox-hide shield, ever on the look-out for the whizzing of the arrows and the heavy thud of the spears. He well knew that the fortunes of the day had changed, but still stood his ground and tried to protect his comrades.

Meanwhile, great Ajax kept trying to drive a spear into Hector. But Hector was so skilled that he kept his broad shoulders well protected behind his ox-hide shield. He was always alert to the whistling arrows and the heavy thud of spears. He knew well that the tide of battle had turned, but still stood his ground and tried to protect his comrades.

As when a cloud goes up into heaven from Olympus, rising out of a clear sky when Jove is brewing a gale—even with such panic stricken rout did the Trojans now fly, and there was no order in their going. Hector’s fleet horses bore him and his armour out of the fight, and he left the Trojan host penned in by the deep trench against their will. Many a yoke of horses snapped the pole of their chariots in the trench and left their master’s car behind them. Patroclus gave chase, calling impetuously on the Danaans and full of fury against the Trojans, who, being now no longer in a body, filled all the ways with their cries of panic and rout; the air was darkened with the clouds of dust they raised, and the horses strained every nerve in their flight from the tents and ships towards the city.

As a cloud rises into the clear sky from Olympus when Jove is brewing a gale, so the Trojans fled. Their retreat was panicked and chaotic. Hector’s swift horses carried him and his armour out of the fight. He left the Trojan army trapped against their will by the deep trench. Many teams of horses snapped their chariot poles in the trench, leaving their masters’ chariots behind. Patroclus chased the Trojans, urgently calling on the Danaans, his heart full of fury against the enemy. The Trojans were now scattered, filling every road with cries of panic as they fled. Clouds of dust darkened the air. The horses strained with all their strength, fleeing from the tents and ships towards the city.

Patroclus kept on heading his horses wherever he saw most men flying in confusion, cheering on his men the while. Chariots were being smashed in all directions, and many a man came tumbling down from his own car to fall beneath the wheels of that of Patroclus, whose immortal steeds, given by the gods to Peleus, sprang over the trench at a bound as they sped onward. He was intent on trying to get near Hector, for he had set his heart on spearing him, but Hector’s horses were now hurrying him away. As the whole dark earth bows before some tempest on an autumn day when Jove rains his hardest to punish men for giving crooked judgement in their courts, and driving justice therefrom without heed to the decrees of heaven—all the rivers run full and the torrents tear many a new channel as they roar headlong from the mountains to the dark sea, and it fares ill with the works of men—even such was the stress and strain of the Trojan horses in their flight.

Patroclus kept steering his horses wherever he saw the most men fleeing in confusion, cheering his men on. Chariots were smashed in all directions. Many men tumbled from their own chariots and fell beneath the wheels of Patroclus’s chariot. His immortal horses, given by the gods to Peleus, cleared the trench in a single leap as they raced on. Patroclus was determined to reach Hector, for he had set his heart on killing him with his spear. But Hector’s horses were now carrying him swiftly away. The Trojan horses strained in their flight like the whole dark earth bowing beneath a storm on an autumn day. On such a day, Jove sends his heaviest rain to punish men for passing crooked judgments in their courts. These men drive justice from the courts and ignore the decrees of heaven. All the rivers fill, and raging torrents carve many new channels as they rush down the mountains toward the dark sea. The works of men suffer badly. Such was the stress and strain of the Trojan horses as they fled.

Patroclus now cut off the battalions that were nearest to him and drove them back to the ships. They were doing their best to reach the city, but he would not let them, and bore down on them between the river and the ships and wall. Many a fallen comrade did he then avenge. First he hit Pronous with a spear on the chest where it was exposed near the rim of his shield, and he fell heavily to the ground. Next he sprang on Thestor son of Enops, who was sitting all huddled up in his chariot, for he had lost his head and the reins had been torn out of his hands. Patroclus went up to him and drove a spear into his right jaw; he thus hooked him by the teeth and the spear pulled him over the rim of his car, as one who sits at the end of some jutting rock and draws a strong fish out of the sea with a hook and a line—even so with his spear did he pull Thestor all gaping from his chariot; he then threw him down on his face and he died while falling. On this, as Erylaus was on coming to attack him, he struck him full on the head with a stone, and his brains were all battered inside his helmet, whereon he fell headlong to the ground and the pangs of death took hold upon him. Then he laid low, one after the other, Erymas, Amphoterus, Epaltes, Tlepolemus, Echius son of Damastor, Pyris, Ipheus, Euippus and Polymelus son of Argeas.

Patroclus now cut off the battalions nearest him and drove them back toward the ships. They were doing their best to reach the city, but he would not let them. He pressed his attack between the river and the ships and wall. In doing so, he avenged many fallen comrades. First he struck Pronous in the chest with a spear, where his chest was exposed near his shield’s rim. Pronous fell heavily to the ground. Next Patroclus sprang at Thestor son of Enops, who sat huddled in his chariot. Thestor had panicked, and the reins had been torn from his hands. Patroclus approached and drove a spear into Thestor’s right jaw, hooking him by the teeth. With the spear, he pulled Thestor over the edge of the chariot. Just as someone sitting at the edge of a jutting rock hauls a strong fish from the sea with a hook and line, so Patroclus pulled Thestor, his mouth gaping, from his chariot. Then he threw Thestor face down, and Thestor died as he fell. Then, as Erylaus came to attack him, Patroclus struck him squarely on the head with a stone. Erylaus’s brains were completely battered inside his helmet. He fell headfirst to the ground, gripped by the agonies of death. Then Patroclus killed, one after another, Erymas, Amphoterus, Epaltes, Tlepolemus, Echius son of Damastor, Pyris, Ipheus, Euippus and Polymelus son of Argeas.

Now when Sarpedon saw his comrades, men who wore ungirdled tunics, being overcome by Patroclus son of Menoetius, he rebuked the Lycians saying. “Shame on you, where are you flying to? Show your mettle; I will myself meet this man in fight and learn who it is that is so masterful; he has done us much hurt, and has stretched many a brave man upon the ground.”

Now Sarpedon saw his comrades in unbelted tunics being overwhelmed by Patroclus, son of Menoetius. He scolded the Lycians, saying, “Shame on you! Where are you running? Show your courage. I will fight this man myself and find out who this powerful warrior is. He has done us great harm and left many brave men lying on the ground.”

He sprang from his chariot as he spoke, and Patroclus, when he saw this, leaped on to the ground also. The two then rushed at one another with loud cries like eagle-beaked crook-taloned vultures that scream and tear at one another in some high mountain fastness.

He jumped from his chariot as he spoke. When Patroclus saw him jump, he too leaped to the ground. The two rushed at each other with loud cries, like vultures with eagle-like beaks and hooked talons. The birds scream and tear at each other in some remote stronghold high in the mountains.

The son of scheming Saturn looked down upon them in pity and said to Juno who was his wife and sister, “Alas, that it should be the lot of Sarpedon whom I love so dearly to perish by the hand of Patroclus. I am in two minds whether to catch him up out of the fight and set him down safe and sound in the fertile land of Lycia, or to let him now fall by the hand of the son of Menoetius.”

The son of scheming Saturn looked down on them with pity. He said to Juno, his wife and sister, “How sad that Sarpedon, whom I love so dearly, is destined to die at the hands of Patroclus. I cannot decide whether to lift him out of the battle and bring him safely to the fertile land of Lycia. Or should I let him die now at the hands of the son of Menoetius?”

And Juno answered, “Most dread son of Saturn, what is this that you are saying? Would you snatch a mortal man, whose doom has long been fated, out of the jaws of death? Do as you will, but we shall not all of us be of your mind. I say further, and lay my saying to your heart, that if you send Sarpedon safely to his own home, some other of the gods will be also wanting to escort his son out of battle, for there are many sons of gods fighting round the city of Troy, and you will make every one jealous. If, however, you are fond of him and pity him, let him indeed fall by the hand of Patroclus, but as soon as the life is gone out of him, send Death and sweet Sleep to bear him off the field and take him to the broad lands of Lycia, where his brothers and his kinsmen will bury him with mound and pillar, in due honour to the dead.”

And Juno answered, “Most feared son of Saturn, what are you saying? Would you save a mortal man from the jaws of death when his fate was settled long ago? Do as you wish, but we will not all agree with you. I have more to say, and you should take my words to heart. If you send Sarpedon safely home, some other god will also want to lead his own son out of battle. For many sons of gods are fighting around the city of Troy, and you will make every god jealous. But if you love him and pity him, let him fall at the hands of Patroclus. Then, as soon as his life has left him, send Death and sweet Sleep to carry him from the battlefield. Let them take him to the broad lands of Lycia. There his brothers and relatives will bury him with a burial mound and pillar, giving him the honor the dead deserve.”

The sire of gods and men assented, but he shed a rain of blood upon the earth in honour of his son whom Patroclus was about to kill on the rich plain of Troy far from his home.

The father of gods and men agreed. But he rained blood on the earth to honor his son. Patroclus was about to kill his son on the fertile plain of Troy, far from his son's home.

When they were now come close to one another Patroclus struck Thrasydemus, the brave squire of Sarpedon, in the lower part of the belly, and killed him. Sarpedon then aimed a spear at Patroclus and missed him, but he struck the horse Pedasus in the right shoulder, and it screamed aloud as it lay, groaning in the dust until the life went out of it. The other two horses began to plunge; the pole of the chariot cracked and they got entangled in the reins through the fall of the horse that was yoked along with them; but Automedon knew what to do; without the loss of a moment he drew the keen blade that hung by his sturdy thigh and cut the third horse adrift; whereon the other two righted themselves, and pulling hard at the reins again went together into battle.

As they came close to each other, Patroclus struck Thrasydemus, Sarpedon’s brave squire, in the lower belly and killed him. Sarpedon then threw a spear at Patroclus and missed him, but struck the horse Pedasus in the right shoulder. Pedasus screamed loudly as he fell, then lay groaning in the dust until he died. The other two horses began to rear and plunge. The chariot pole cracked, and the horses became tangled in the reins because the horse yoked beside them had fallen. But Automedon knew what to do. Without wasting a moment, he drew the sharp sword hanging beside his sturdy thigh and cut the third horse free. The other two horses then regained their footing, pulled hard against the reins, and went back into battle together.

Sarpedon now took a second aim at Patroclus, and again missed him, the point of the spear passed over his left shoulder without hitting him. Patroclus then aimed in his turn, and the spear sped not from his hand in vain, for he hit Sarpedon just where the midriff surrounds the ever-beating heart. He fell like some oak or silver poplar or tall pine to which woodmen have laid their axes upon the mountains to make timber for ship-building—even so did he lie stretched at full length in front of his chariot and horses, moaning and clutching at the blood-stained dust. As when a lion springs with a bound upon a herd of cattle and fastens on a great black bull which dies bellowing in its clutches—even so did the leader of the Lycian warriors struggle in death as he fell by the hand of Patroclus. He called on his trusty comrade and said, “Glaucus, my brother, hero among heroes, put forth all your strength, fight with might and main, now if ever quit yourself like a valiant soldier. First go about among the Lycian captains and bid them fight for Sarpedon; then yourself also do battle to save my armour from being taken. My name will haunt you henceforth and for ever if the Achaeans rob me of my armour now that I have fallen at their ships. Do your very utmost and call all my people together.”

Sarpedon aimed at Patroclus a second time and missed again. The spear’s point passed over Patroclus’s left shoulder without striking him. Then Patroclus took aim, and his spear did not fly in vain. He struck Sarpedon just where the diaphragm surrounds the ever-beating heart. Sarpedon fell like an oak, a silver poplar, or a tall pine cut down by woodcutters in the mountains. They cut such trees for timber to build ships. Just so, he lay stretched out in front of his chariot and horses, moaning and clutching the bloodstained dust. A lion leaps upon a herd of cattle and seizes a great black bull, which dies bellowing in its grip. Just so, the leader of the Lycian warriors struggled in death as he fell at the hands of Patroclus. He called to his trusted comrade and said, “Glaucus, my brother, hero among heroes, use all your strength. Fight with everything you have. Now, if ever, prove yourself a brave soldier. First, go among the Lycian captains and urge them to fight for Sarpedon. Then fight yourself to keep my armour from being taken. My name will haunt you from now on and forever if the Achaeans strip me of my armour. I have fallen here beside their ships. Do everything you can, and gather all my people.”

Death closed his eyes as he spoke. Patroclus planted his heel on his breast and drew the spear from his body, whereon his senses came out along with it, and he drew out both spear-point and Sarpedon’s soul at the same time. Hard by the Myrmidons held his snorting steeds, who were wild with panic at finding themselves deserted by their lords.

Death closed his eyes as he spoke. Patroclus planted his heel on Sarpedon’s chest and pulled the spear from his body. As the spear came out, Sarpedon lost his senses. Patroclus drew out the spear’s point and Sarpedon’s soul at the same time. Nearby, the Myrmidons held his snorting horses, wild with panic because their masters had deserted them.

Glaucus was overcome with grief when he heard what Sarpedon said, for he could not help him. He had to support his arm with his other hand, being in great pain through the wound which Teucer’s arrow had given him when Teucer was defending the wall as he, Glaucus, was assailing it. Therefore he prayed to far-darting Apollo saying, “Hear me O king from your seat, may be in the rich land of Lycia, or may be in Troy, for in all places you can hear the prayer of one who is in distress, as I now am. I have a grievous wound; my hand is aching with pain, there is no staunching the blood, and my whole arm drags by reason of my hurt, so that I cannot grasp my sword nor go among my foes and fight them, though our prince, Jove’s son Sarpedon, is slain. Jove defended not his son, do you, therefore, O king, heal me of my wound, ease my pain and grant me strength both to cheer on the Lycians and to fight along with them round the body of him who has fallen.”

Glaucus was overcome with grief when he heard Sarpedon’s words, because he could not help him. He had to support his wounded arm with his other hand because the pain was so great. Teucer’s arrow had wounded him while Teucer was defending the wall and Glaucus was attacking it. So he prayed to Apollo, whose arrows fly far, saying, “Hear me, O king, wherever you are. You may be in the rich land of Lycia, or you may be in Troy. Wherever you are, you can hear the prayer of someone in distress, as I am now. I have a terrible wound. My hand aches with pain, the bleeding will not stop, and my whole arm hangs useless because of my injury. So I cannot grip my sword or go among my enemies and fight them, though our prince, Jove’s son Sarpedon, is dead. Jove did not protect his son. So, O king, heal my wound, ease my pain, and give me strength. Let me encourage the Lycians and fight beside them around the body of our fallen prince.”

Thus did he pray, and Apollo heard his prayer. He eased his pain, staunched the black blood from the wound, and gave him new strength. Glaucus perceived this, and was thankful that the mighty god had answered his prayer; forthwith, therefore, he went among the Lycian captains, and bade them come to fight about the body of Sarpedon. From these he strode on among the Trojans to Polydamas son of Panthous and Agenor; he then went in search of Aeneas and Hector, and when he had found them he said, “Hector, you have utterly forgotten your allies, who languish here for your sake far from friends and home while you do nothing to support them. Sarpedon leader of the Lycian warriors has fallen—he who was at once the right and might of Lycia; Mars has laid him low by the spear of Patroclus. Stand by him, my friends, and suffer not the Myrmidons to strip him of his armour, nor to treat his body with contumely in revenge for all the Danaans whom we have speared at the ships.”

He prayed, and Apollo heard his prayer. Apollo eased his pain, stopped the dark blood flowing from the wound, and gave him fresh strength. Glaucus felt the change and was grateful that the mighty god had answered his prayer. So he immediately went among the Lycian captains and urged them to fight around Sarpedon’s body. From there he strode among the Trojans to Polydamas son of Panthous and Agenor. Then he went looking for Aeneas and Hector. When he found them, he said, “Hector, you have completely forgotten your allies. They suffer here for your sake, far from friends and home, while you do nothing to help them. Sarpedon, leader of the Lycian warriors, has fallen. He was both the defender and the strength of Lycia. Mars has struck him down with Patroclus’s spear. Stand by him, my friends. Do not let the Myrmidons strip him of his armour or dishonour his body. They would do so in revenge for all the Danaans we have killed with our spears at the ships.”

As he spoke the Trojans were plunged in extreme and ungovernable grief; for Sarpedon, alien though he was, had been one of the main stays of their city, both as having much people with him, and himself the foremost among them all. Led by Hector, who was infuriated by the fall of Sarpedon, they made instantly for the Danaans with all their might, while the undaunted spirit of Patroclus son of Menoetius cheered on the Achaeans. First he spoke to the two Ajaxes, men who needed no bidding. “Ajaxes,” said he, “may it now please you to show yourselves the men you have always been, or even better—Sarpedon is fallen—he who was first to overleap the wall of the Achaeans; let us take the body and outrage it; let us strip the armour from his shoulders, and kill his comrades if they try to rescue his body.”

As he spoke, the Trojans were overwhelmed by intense, uncontrollable grief. Though Sarpedon was a foreigner, he had been one of their city’s main defenders. He had brought many men with him and was himself the best among them all. Hector was furious at Sarpedon’s death and led the Trojans straight against the Danaans with all their strength. Meanwhile, Patroclus son of Menoetius, still undaunted, urged the Achaeans on. First he spoke to the two Ajaxes, men who needed no urging. “Ajaxes,” he said, “may you now choose to prove yourselves the men you have always been, or even better. Sarpedon has fallen. He was the first to leap over the wall of the Achaeans. Let us seize his body and disgrace it. Let us strip the armour from his shoulders and kill his comrades if they try to rescue his body.”

He spoke to men who of themselves were full eager; both sides, therefore, the Trojans and Lycians on the one hand, and the Myrmidons and Achaeans on the other, strengthened their battalions, and fought desperately about the body of Sarpedon, shouting fiercely the while. Mighty was the din of their armour as they came together, and Jove shed a thick darkness over the fight, to increase the toil of the battle over the body of his son.

He spoke to men who were already eager to fight. So both sides strengthened their ranks: the Trojans and Lycians, and the Myrmidons and Achaeans. They fought desperately over Sarpedon’s body, shouting fiercely as they fought. Their armor clashed with a mighty roar as the warriors met. Jove cast thick darkness over the fighting to make the struggle over his son’s body even harder.

At first the Trojans made some headway against the Achaeans, for one of the best men among the Myrmidons was killed, Epeigeus, son of noble Agacles who had erewhile been king in the good city of Budeum; but presently, having killed a valiant kinsman of his own, he took refuge with Peleus and Thetis, who sent him to Ilius the land of noble steeds to fight the Trojans under Achilles. Hector now struck him on the head with a stone just as he had caught hold of the body, and his brains inside his helmet were all battered in, so that he fell face foremost upon the body of Sarpedon, and there died. Patroclus was enraged by the death of his comrade, and sped through the front ranks as swiftly as a hawk that swoops down on a flock of daws or starlings. Even so swiftly, O noble knight Patroclus, did you make straight for the Lycians and Trojans to avenge your comrade. Forthwith he struck Sthenelaus the son of Ithaemenes on the neck with a stone, and broke the tendons that join it to the head and spine. On this Hector and the front rank of his men gave ground. As far as a man can throw a javelin when competing for some prize, or even in battle—so far did the Trojans now retreat before the Achaeans. Glaucus, captain of the Lycians, was the first to rally them, by killing Bathycles son of Chalcon who lived in Hellas and was the richest man among the Myrmidons. Glaucus turned round suddenly, just as Bathycles who was pursuing him was about to lay hold of him, and drove his spear right into the middle of his chest, whereon he fell heavily to the ground, and the fall of so good a man filled the Achaeans with dismay, while the Trojans were exultant, and came up in a body round the corpse. Nevertheless the Achaeans, mindful of their prowess, bore straight down upon them.

At first the Trojans made some headway against the Achaeans because Epeigeus, one of the best Myrmidons, was killed. He was the son of noble Agacles and had once been king in the fine city of Budeum. But after killing a brave relative of his own, Epeigeus took refuge with Peleus and Thetis. They sent him to Ilius, the land of noble horses, to fight the Trojans under Achilles. Hector now struck Epeigeus on the head with a stone just as he took hold of Sarpedon’s body. The blow crushed all his brains inside his helmet. He fell face down on Sarpedon’s body and died there. Patroclus was enraged by his comrade’s death. He rushed through the front ranks as swiftly as a hawk swooping on a flock of jackdaws or starlings. Just as swiftly, noble warrior Patroclus, you charged straight at the Lycians and Trojans to avenge your comrade. At once he struck Sthenelaus, son of Ithaemenes, on the neck with a stone. The blow broke the tendons joining his neck to his head and spine. At this, Hector and his front ranks fell back. The Trojans retreated before the Achaeans as far as a man can throw a javelin in a contest or battle. Glaucus, captain of the Lycians, was the first to rally them, by killing Bathycles, son of Chalcon. Bathycles lived in Hellas and was the richest man among the Myrmidons. He was pursuing Glaucus and was just about to seize him when Glaucus suddenly turned. Glaucus drove his spear straight into the middle of Bathycles’ chest, and Bathycles fell heavily to the ground. The death of so fine a man filled the Achaeans with dismay. But the Trojans rejoiced and gathered in a body around the corpse. Nevertheless, the Achaeans, remembering their own fighting strength, advanced straight at them.

Meriones then killed a helmed warrior of the Trojans, Laogonus son of Onetor, who was priest of Jove of Mt. Ida, and was honoured by the people as though he were a god. Meriones struck him under the jaw and ear, so that life went out of him and the darkness of death laid hold upon him. Aeneas then aimed a spear at Meriones, hoping to hit him under the shield as he was advancing, but Meriones saw it coming and stooped forward to avoid it, whereon the spear flew past him and the point stuck in the ground, while the butt-end went on quivering till Mars robbed it of its force. The spear, therefore, sped from Aeneas’s hand in vain and fell quivering to the ground. Aeneas was angry and said, “Meriones, you are a good dancer, but if I had hit you my spear would soon have made an end of you.”

Meriones then killed a helmeted Trojan warrior, Laogonus son of Onetor. Onetor was a priest of Jove of Mt. Ida, and the people honoured him as though he were a god. Meriones struck Laogonus below the jaw and ear, so that his life left him and death’s darkness took hold of him. Aeneas then aimed a spear at Meriones, hoping to hit him below his shield as Meriones advanced. But Meriones saw the spear coming and ducked forward to avoid it. The spear flew past him, and its point stuck in the ground. Its other end kept quivering until Mars drained the spear of its force. So the spear thrown by Aeneas missed its mark and fell quivering to the ground. Aeneas was angry and said, “Meriones, you are a good dancer, but if I had hit you, my spear would soon have killed you.”

And Meriones answered, “Aeneas, for all your bravery, you will not be able to make an end of every one who comes against you. You are only a mortal like myself, and if I were to hit you in the middle of your shield with my spear, however strong and self-confident you may be, I should soon vanquish you, and you would yield your life to Hades of the noble steeds.”

And Meriones answered, “Aeneas, brave as you are, you cannot kill everyone who comes against you. You are only a mortal like me. If I hit you in the middle of your shield with my spear, I would soon defeat you. Your strength and confidence would not save you, and you would surrender your life to Hades of the noble horses.”

On this the son of Menoetius rebuked him and said, “Meriones, hero though you be, you should not speak thus; taunting speeches, my good friend, will not make the Trojans draw away from the dead body; some of them must go under ground first; blows for battle, and words for council; fight, therefore, and say nothing.”

At this, the son of Menoetius scolded him and said, “Meriones, though you are a hero, you should not talk like that. My good friend, taunts will not make the Trojans retreat from the dead body. Some of them must be buried first. Blows belong in battle, and words belong in council. So fight and say nothing.”

He led the way as he spoke and the hero went forward with him. As the sound of woodcutters in some forest glade upon the mountains—and the thud of their axes is heard afar—even such a din now rose from earth-clash of bronze armour and of good ox-hide shields, as men smote each other with their swords and spears pointed at both ends. A man had need of good eyesight now to know Sarpedon, so covered was he from head to foot with spears and blood and dust. Men swarmed about the body, as flies that buzz round the full milk-pails in spring when they are brimming with milk—even so did they gather round Sarpedon; nor did Jove turn his keen eyes away for one moment from the fight, but kept looking at it all the time, for he was settling how best to kill Patroclus, and considering whether Hector should be allowed to end him now in the fight round the body of Sarpedon, and strip him of his armour, or whether he should let him give yet further trouble to the Trojans. In the end, he deemed it best that the brave squire of Achilles son of Peleus should drive Hector and the Trojans back towards the city and take the lives of many. First, therefore, he made Hector turn fainthearted, whereon he mounted his chariot and fled, bidding the other Trojans fly also, for he saw that the scales of Jove had turned against him. Neither would the brave Lycians stand firm; they were dismayed when they saw their king lying struck to the heart amid a heap of corpses—for when the son of Saturn made the fight wax hot many had fallen above him. The Achaeans, therefore stripped the gleaming armour from his shoulders and the brave son of Menoetius gave it to his men to take to the ships. Then Jove lord of the storm-cloud said to Apollo, “Dear Phoebus, go, I pray you, and take Sarpedon out of range of the weapons; cleanse the black blood from off him, and then bear him a long way off where you may wash him in the river, anoint him with ambrosia, and clothe him in immortal raiment; this done, commit him to the arms of the two fleet messengers, Death, and Sleep, who will carry him straightway to the rich land of Lycia, where his brothers and kinsmen will inter him, and will raise both mound and pillar to his memory, in due honour to the dead.”

He led the way as he spoke, and the hero went forward with him. The noise was like woodcutters working in a mountain clearing, their axes thudding loudly enough to be heard far away. Just such a roar rose from the earth as bronze armor and sturdy ox-hide shields clashed. Men struck one another with swords and spears sharpened at both ends. Now it took sharp eyes to recognize Sarpedon, covered from head to foot with spears, blood, and dust. Men swarmed around his body like flies buzzing around milk pails filled to the brim in spring. Just so they crowded around Sarpedon. Jove never once turned his keen eyes away from the battle. He watched the whole time, deciding how best to kill Patroclus. He considered letting Hector kill him now in the struggle around Sarpedon’s body and strip off his armor. Or he could let Patroclus cause the Trojans still more trouble. In the end, Jove decided that the brave squire of Achilles, son of Peleus, should drive Hector and the Trojans back. Patroclus would force them toward the city and kill many of them. First, therefore, Jove made Hector lose courage. Hector climbed into his chariot and fled, ordering the other Trojans to flee as well. He could see that Jove’s scales had tipped against him. Nor would the brave Lycians stand their ground. They were dismayed to see their king lying pierced through the heart among a heap of corpses. For many men had fallen on top of him when the son of Saturn intensified the fighting. So the Achaeans stripped the gleaming armor from Sarpedon’s shoulders. The brave son of Menoetius gave the armor to his men to carry to the ships. Then Jove, lord of the storm clouds, said to Apollo, “Dear Phoebus, please go and take Sarpedon beyond the reach of weapons. Clean the dark blood from his body, then carry him far away to wash him in the river. Anoint him with ambrosia and dress him in immortal clothing. When you have done this, place him in the arms of the two swift messengers, Death and Sleep. They will carry him straight to the rich land of Lycia, where his brothers and relatives will bury him. They will raise a mound and a pillar in his memory, giving him the honor due to the dead.”

Thus he spoke. Apollo obeyed his father’s saying, and came down from the heights of Ida into the thick of the fight; forthwith he took Sarpedon out of range of the weapons, and then bore him a long way off, where he washed him in the river, anointed him with ambrosia and clothed him in immortal raiment; this done, he committed him to the arms of the two fleet messengers, Death, and Sleep, who presently set him down in the rich land of Lycia.

So he spoke. Apollo obeyed his father’s command and came down from the heights of Ida into the thick of the fighting. At once, Apollo carried Sarpedon out of range of the weapons, then took him far away. There, Apollo washed Sarpedon in the river, anointed him with ambrosia, and dressed him in immortal clothing. Then Apollo placed Sarpedon in the arms of the two swift messengers, Death and Sleep. They soon laid Sarpedon down in the rich land of Lycia.

Meanwhile Patroclus, with many a shout to his horses and to Automedon, pursued the Trojans and Lycians in the pride and foolishness of his heart. Had he but obeyed the bidding of the son of Peleus, he would have escaped death and have been scatheless; but the counsels of Jove pass man’s understanding; he will put even a brave man to flight and snatch victory from his grasp, or again he will set him on to fight, as he now did when he put a high spirit into the heart of Patroclus.

Meanwhile, Patroclus chased the Trojans and Lycians, shouting repeatedly to his horses and to Automedon, full of pride and foolishness. If he had obeyed the son of Peleus, he would have escaped death and remained unharmed. But Jove’s plans are beyond human understanding. He can make even a brave man flee and snatch victory from his grasp. Or he can urge a man to fight, as he now did by filling Patroclus’s heart with boldness.

Who then first, and who last, was slain by you, O Patroclus, when the gods had now called you to meet your doom? First Adrestus, Autonous, Echeclus, Perimus the son of Megas, Epistor and Melanippus; after these he killed Elasus, Mulius, and Pylartes. These he slew, but the rest saved themselves by flight.

Who did you kill first, and who last, Patroclus, when the gods had called you to meet your doom? First came Adrestus, Autonous, Echeclus, Perimus the son of Megas, Epistor, and Melanippus. After them, he killed Elasus, Mulius, and Pylartes. He killed these men, but the rest escaped by fleeing.

The sons of the Achaeans would now have taken Troy by the hands of Patroclus, for his spear flew in all directions, had not Phoebus Apollo taken his stand upon the wall to defeat his purpose and to aid the Trojans. Thrice did Patroclus charge at an angle of the high wall, and thrice did Apollo beat him back, striking his shield with his own immortal hands. When Patroclus was coming on like a god for yet a fourth time, Apollo shouted to him with an awful voice and said, “Draw back, noble Patroclus, it is not your lot to sack the city of the Trojan chieftains, nor yet will it be that of Achilles who is a far better man than you are.” On hearing this, Patroclus withdrew to some distance and avoided the anger of Apollo.

The Achaeans would now have taken Troy through Patroclus, whose spear flew in all directions. But Phoebus Apollo stood on the wall to stop him and help the Trojans. Three times Patroclus charged at a corner of the high wall. Three times Apollo drove him back, striking his shield with his own immortal hands. As Patroclus advanced like a god for a fourth time, Apollo shouted at him in a terrifying voice. “Fall back, noble Patroclus. You are not destined to sack the city of the Trojan chiefs. Nor is Achilles, who is a far better man than you.” When Patroclus heard these words, he fell back some distance to avoid Apollo’s anger.

Meanwhile Hector was waiting with his horses inside the Scaean gates, in doubt whether to drive out again and go on fighting, or to call the army inside the gates. As he was thus doubting Phoebus Apollo drew near him in the likeness of a young and lusty warrior Asius, who was Hector’s uncle, being own brother to Hecuba, and son of Dymas who lived in Phrygia by the waters of the river Sangarius; in his likeness Jove’s son Apollo now spoke to Hector saying, “Hector, why have you left off fighting? It is ill done of you. If I were as much better a man than you, as I am worse, you should soon rue your slackness. Drive straight towards Patroclus, if so be that Apollo may grant you a triumph over him, and you may rule him.”

Meanwhile, Hector waited with his horses inside the Scaean gates. He was unsure whether to drive out and keep fighting or call the army back inside the gates. While he hesitated, Phoebus Apollo approached him in the form of Asius, a young, vigorous warrior. Asius was Hector’s uncle, Hecuba’s full brother, and the son of Dymas, who lived in Phrygia beside the river Sangarius. In Asius’s form, Apollo, Jove’s son, now spoke to Hector, saying, “Hector, why have you stopped fighting? You are wrong to hang back. If I were as much stronger than you as I am weaker, you would soon regret your lack of effort. Drive straight toward Patroclus, in the hope that Apollo may let you defeat him and bring him under your power.”

With this the god went back into the hurly-burly, and Hector bade Cebriones drive again into the fight. Apollo passed in among them, and struck panic into the Argives, while he gave triumph to Hector and the Trojans. Hector let the other Danaans alone and killed no man, but drove straight at Patroclus. Patroclus then sprang from his chariot to the ground, with a spear in his left hand, and in his right a jagged stone as large as his hand could hold. He stood still and threw it, nor did it go far without hitting some one; the cast was not in vain, for the stone struck Cebriones, Hector’s charioteer, a bastard son of Priam, as he held the reins in his hands. The stone hit him on the forehead and drove his brows into his head for the bone was smashed, and his eyes fell to the ground at his feet. He dropped dead from his chariot as though he were diving, and there was no more life left in him. Over him did you then vaunt, O knight Patroclus, saying, “Bless my heart, how active he is, and how well he dives. If we had been at sea this fellow would have dived from the ship’s side and brought up as many oysters as the whole crew could stomach, even in rough water, for he has dived beautifully off his chariot on to the ground. It seems, then, that there are divers also among the Trojans.”

With that, the god returned to the chaos, and Hector ordered Cebriones to drive back into battle. Apollo moved among the fighters, spreading panic among the Argives while giving victory to Hector and the Trojans. Hector left the other Danaans alone and killed no one, but drove straight at Patroclus. Patroclus then leaped from his chariot to the ground, holding a spear in his left hand. In his right, he held a jagged stone as large as his hand could hold. He stood still and threw the stone, and it did not travel far before hitting someone. The throw was not wasted. The stone struck Cebriones, Hector’s charioteer and an illegitimate son of Priam, as he held the reins. It hit his forehead and crushed the bone, driving his brows into his head. His eyes fell to the ground at his feet. He fell dead from his chariot as though he were diving, with no life left in him. Then you mocked him, Patroclus the horseman, saying, “My goodness, how nimble he is, and how well he dives. If we had been at sea, this fellow would have dived from the ship’s side. He would have brought up as many oysters as the whole crew could stomach, even in rough water. Just look how beautifully he has dived from his chariot to the ground. So it seems there are divers among the Trojans too.”

As he spoke he flung himself on Cebriones with the spring, as it were, of a lion that while attacking a stockyard is himself struck in the chest, and his courage is his own bane—even so furiously, O Patroclus, did you then spring upon Cebriones. Hector sprang also from his chariot to the ground. The pair then fought over the body of Cebriones. As two lions fight fiercely on some high mountain over the body of a stag that they have killed, even so did these two mighty warriors, Patroclus son of Menoetius and brave Hector, hack and hew at one another over the corpse of Cebriones. Hector would not let him go when he had once got him by the head, while Patroclus kept fast hold of his feet, and a fierce fight raged between the other Danaans and Trojans. As the east and south wind buffet one another when they beat upon some dense forest on the mountains—there is beech and ash and spreading cornel; the top of the trees roar as they beat on one another, and one can hear the boughs cracking and breaking—even so did the Trojans and Achaeans spring upon one another and lay about each other, and neither side would give way. Many a pointed spear fell to ground and many a winged arrow sped from its bowstring about the body of Cebriones; many a great stone, moreover, beat on many a shield as they fought around his body, but there he lay in the whirling clouds of dust, all huge and hugely, heedless of his driving now.

As he spoke, he hurled himself at Cebriones like a lion attacking a stockyard. The lion is struck in the chest, and its own courage brings its destruction. Just as fiercely, Patroclus, you sprang upon Cebriones. Hector also leaped from his chariot to the ground. The two fought over Cebriones’ body. Like two lions fighting fiercely on a high mountain over a stag they have killed, the mighty warriors clashed. Patroclus son of Menoetius and brave Hector hacked and slashed at each other over Cebriones’ corpse. Once Hector had seized the body by the head, he would not let go. Patroclus held firmly to the feet, while a fierce battle raged between the other Danaans and Trojans. As the east and south winds clash, they batter a dense mountain forest of beech, ash, and spreading cornel. The treetops roar as they collide, and you can hear the branches cracking and breaking. Just so, the Trojans and Achaeans charged one another and struck wildly, and neither side would give way. Many pointed spears fell to the ground, and many feathered arrows flew from bowstrings around Cebriones’ body. Many great stones also struck many shields as the warriors fought around him. But Cebriones lay there in the swirling dust, his great body sprawled out, no longer caring about driving his chariot.

So long as the sun was still high in mid-heaven the weapons of either side were alike deadly, and the people fell; but when he went down towards the time when men loose their oxen, the Achaeans proved to be beyond all forecast stronger, so that they drew Cebriones out of range of the darts and tumult of the Trojans, and stripped the armour from his shoulders. Then Patroclus sprang like Mars with fierce intent and a terrific shout upon the Trojans, and thrice did he kill nine men; but as he was coming on like a god for a time, then, O Patroclus, was the hour of your end approaching, for Phoebus fought you in fell earnest. Patroclus did not see him as he moved about in the crush, for he was enshrouded in thick darkness, and the god struck him from behind on his back and his broad shoulders with the flat of his hand, so that his eyes turned dizzy. Phoebus Apollo beat the helmet from off his head, and it rolled rattling off under the horses’ feet, where its horse-hair plumes were all begrimed with dust and blood. Never indeed had that helmet fared so before, for it had served to protect the head and comely forehead of the godlike hero Achilles. Now, however, Zeus delivered it over to be worn by Hector. Nevertheless the end of Hector also was near. The bronze-shod spear, so great and so strong, was broken in the hand of Patroclus, while his shield that covered him from head to foot fell to the ground as did also the band that held it, and Apollo undid the fastenings of his corslet.

As long as the sun was still high in the sky, both sides’ weapons were equally deadly, and men fell. But as the sun sank toward the time when men unyoke their oxen, the Achaeans proved stronger than anyone expected. So they dragged Cebriones beyond the Trojans’ missiles and the chaos of battle, and stripped the armor from his shoulders. Then Patroclus charged the Trojans like Mars, with fierce purpose and a terrifying shout. Three times he killed nine men. But as he charged on like a god, your final hour was drawing near, O Patroclus. For Phoebus now fought you with deadly intent. Patroclus did not see the god moving through the crush of battle, for thick darkness hid him. The god struck Patroclus from behind, hitting his back and broad shoulders with an open hand, making his vision reel. Phoebus Apollo knocked the helmet from Patroclus’s head. The helmet rolled rattling beneath the horses’ feet, where its horsehair plumes became filthy with dust and blood. Never before had that helmet suffered such treatment. It had protected the head and handsome forehead of the godlike hero Achilles. Now, however, Zeus gave the helmet to Hector to wear. Yet Hector’s end was also near. The great, strong, bronze-tipped spear broke in Patroclus’s hand. His shield, which covered him from head to foot, fell to the ground, along with the strap that held it. And Apollo unfastened his breastplate.

On this his mind became clouded; his limbs failed him, and he stood as one dazed; whereon Euphorbus son of Panthous a Dardanian, the best spearman of his time, as also the finest horseman and fleetest runner, came behind him and struck him in the back with a spear, midway between the shoulders. This man as soon as ever he had come up with his chariot had dismounted twenty men, so proficient was he in all the arts of war—he it was, O knight Patroclus, that first drove a weapon into you, but he did not quite overpower you. Euphorbus then ran back into the crowd, after drawing his ashen spear out of the wound; he would not stand firm and wait for Patroclus, unarmed though he now was, to attack him; but Patroclus unnerved, alike by the blow the god had given him and by the spear-wound, drew back under cover of his men in fear for his life. Hector on this, seeing him to be wounded and giving ground, forced his way through the ranks, and when close up with him struck him in the lower part of the belly with a spear, driving the bronze point right through it, so that he fell heavily to the ground to the great grief of the Achaeans. As when a lion has fought some fierce wild boar and worsted him—the two fight furiously upon the mountains over some little fountain at which they would both drink, and the lion has beaten the boar till he can hardly breathe—even so did Hector son of Priam take the life of the brave son of Menoetius who had killed so many, striking him from close at hand, and vaunting over him the while. “Patroclus,” said he, “you deemed that you should sack our city, rob our Trojan women of their freedom, and carry them off in your ships to your own country. Fool; Hector and his fleet horses were ever straining their utmost to defend them. I am foremost of all the Trojan warriors to stave the day of bondage from off them; as for you, vultures shall devour you here. Poor wretch, Achilles with all his bravery availed you nothing; and yet I ween when you left him he charged you straitly saying, ‘Come not back to the ships, knight Patroclus, till you have rent the blood-stained shirt of murderous Hector about his body.’ Thus I ween did he charge you, and your fool’s heart answered him ‘yea’ within you.”

At this, his mind grew clouded, his limbs gave way, and he stood dazed. Then Euphorbus, son of Panthous, a Dardanian, came up behind him. Euphorbus was the best spearman of his time, as well as the finest horseman and fastest runner. He struck Patroclus in the back with a spear, midway between the shoulders. As soon as Euphorbus had arrived with his chariot, he had knocked twenty men from their chariots. So skilled was he in all the arts of war. He was the first to drive a weapon into you, O knight Patroclus, but he did not quite overpower you. Euphorbus pulled his ash-wood spear from the wound and ran back into the crowd. He would not stand his ground and wait for Patroclus to attack, even though Patroclus was now unarmed. But the god’s blow and the spear wound had shaken Patroclus. Fearing for his life, he fell back behind his men. Hector saw that Patroclus was wounded and retreating, so he forced his way through the ranks. Coming close, he struck Patroclus in the lower belly with his spear, driving the bronze point right through. Patroclus fell heavily to the ground, to the great grief of the Achaeans. Just as a lion fights and defeats a fierce wild boar, so Hector, son of Priam, killed Menoetius’s brave son. The lion and boar fight furiously in the mountains over a small spring where both want to drink. The lion beats the boar until the boar can hardly breathe. So Hector struck down Patroclus, who had killed so many, at close range, boasting over him as he did. “Patroclus,” he said, “you thought you would sack our city, enslave our Trojan women, and take them home in your ships. Fool! Hector and his swift horses were always doing everything they could to defend those women. I lead all the Trojan warriors in holding off the day when our women become slaves. As for you, vultures will devour you here. Poor wretch, Achilles, for all his bravery, did you no good. Yet I suppose that when you left him, he gave you strict orders. He said, ‘Do not return to the ships, knight Patroclus, until you have torn murderous Hector’s bloodstained tunic around his body.’ Those, I suppose, were his orders, and in your foolish heart you answered him, ‘yes.’”

Then, as the life ebbed out of you, you answered, O knight Patroclus: “Hector, vaunt as you will, for Jove the son of Saturn and Apollo have vouchsafed you victory; it is they who have vanquished me so easily, and they who have stripped the armour from my shoulders; had twenty such men as you attacked me, all of them would have fallen before my spear. Fate and the son of Leto have overpowered me, and among mortal men Euphorbus; you are yourself third only in the killing of me. I say further, and lay my saying to your heart, you too shall live but for a little season; death and the day of your doom are close upon you, and they will lay you low by the hand of Achilles son of Aeacus.”

Then, as your life slipped away, you answered, brave Patroclus: “Hector, boast all you like. Jove, the son of Saturn, and Apollo have granted you victory. Those gods defeated me so easily and stripped the armour from my shoulders. If twenty men like you had attacked me, all of them would have fallen before my spear. Fate and the son of Leto have overpowered me, and among mortal men, Euphorbus. You were only the third to strike me down. I tell you one more thing, and take my words to heart. You too have only a short time left to live. Death and the day of your doom are close. You will fall by the hand of Achilles, son of Aeacus.”

When he had thus spoken his eyes were closed in death, his soul left his body and flitted down to the house of Hades, mourning its sad fate and bidding farewell to the youth and vigor of its manhood. Dead though he was, Hector still spoke to him saying, “Patroclus, why should you thus foretell my doom? Who knows but Achilles, son of lovely Thetis, may be smitten by my spear and die before me?”

When he finished speaking, his eyes closed in death. His soul left his body and drifted down to the house of Hades, mourning its sad fate. It said goodbye to the youth and strength of his manhood. Although Patroclus was dead, Hector still spoke to him, saying, “Patroclus, why do you predict my death like this? Who knows? Achilles, son of lovely Thetis, may fall to my spear and die before me.”

As he spoke he drew the bronze spear from the wound, planting his foot upon the body, which he thrust off and let lie on its back. He then went spear in hand after Automedon, squire of the fleet descendant of Aeacus, for he longed to lay him low, but the immortal steeds which the gods had given as a rich gift to Peleus bore him swiftly from the field.

As he spoke, he pulled the bronze spear from the wound, bracing his foot against the body. He pushed the body away and left it lying on its back. Then, spear in hand, he chased Automedon, who served the swift descendant of Aeacus, because he longed to kill Automedon. But the immortal horses carried Automedon swiftly from the battlefield. The gods had given these horses to Peleus as a precious gift.