Homer · a new plain-English translation from the Greek
So he spoke, and glorious Hector burst out through the gates, and beside him went his brother Alexander. Both men's hearts were set on nothing but war and battle, and eager as they were, they came like a wind a god sends to sailors who have prayed for it, after they have worn themselves out driving their smooth oars across the sea, their limbs gone slack with exhaustion — so welcome did the two of them appear to the longing Trojans.
There they killed men. Hector took the son of lord Areithous, Menesthius, who lived in Arne, born to club-wielding Areithous and ox-eyed Phylomedusa. Hector struck him with his sharp spear beneath the crown of his bronze-rimmed helmet, through the neck, and his limbs went loose. Glaucus, son of Hippolochus and leader of the Lycians, speared Iphinous son of Dexius, catching him as he leapt onto his swift chariot, striking him in the shoulder; he fell from the car to the ground, and his limbs went loose.
When the gray-eyed goddess Athena saw the Argives dying in the brutal fighting, she swept down from the peaks of Olympus toward sacred Troy. Apollo rushed to meet her, looking out from Pergamos, wanting victory for the Trojans. The two of them came together beside the oak tree.
Lord Apollo, son of Zeus, spoke first: "Why have you come rushing down from Olympus again, daughter of great Zeus, your proud heart driving you on? Is it to hand the Danaans the balance of victory in this fight? You have no pity at all for the dying Trojans. But listen to me — it would be far better this way. Let us stop the war and the killing for today. They can fight again later, until they reach the destined end of Troy —"
"— since it has pleased your immortal hearts to see this city utterly destroyed."
Gray-eyed Athena answered him: "So be it, Far-shooter. That is exactly what I had in mind when I came down from Olympus to the Trojans and Achaeans. But tell me, how do you mean to stop this war among the men?"
Lord Apollo, son of Zeus, answered her: "Let us stir up the fierce spirit of horse-taming Hector, so that he may challenge one of the Danaans to fight him man to man in the terrible slaughter,"
"and the bronze-shinned Achaeans, stung to it, will send some champion out to face godlike Hector alone." So he spoke, and the gray-eyed goddess Athena did not refuse. Helenus, Priam's beloved son, understood in his heart the plan the two gods had just agreed on, and he went and stood beside Hector and spoke to him:
"Hector, son of Priam, equal to Zeus in cunning — will you listen to me now? I am your brother. Make the other Trojans sit down, and all the Achaeans too, and you yourself challenge whichever of the Achaeans is the best"
"to fight you man to man in the terrible slaughter. It is not yet your fate to die and meet your doom — I have heard this from the voice of the gods who live forever." So he spoke, and Hector rejoiced greatly to hear these words, and he went out into the middle ground and held back the Trojan ranks, gripping his spear at its middle, and they all sat down. Agamemnon made the well-greaved Achaeans sit down too. And Athena and Apollo of the silver bow settled themselves, in the shape of vultures,
on the tall oak tree of their father, aegis-bearing Zeus, delighting in the sight of the men below. The ranks sat close-packed, bristling with shields and helmets and spears. Just as a ripple spreads over the sea when the west wind first rises, and the water darkens beneath it, so the ranks of Achaeans and Trojans sat massed across the plain. And Hector spoke to both armies:
"Hear me, Trojans, and you well-greaved Achaeans, so I may say what the heart in my chest urges me to say. High-throned Zeus, son of Cronus, did not bring our oaths to pass — instead, with evil intent, he marks out suffering for both our peoples"
"until either you take the strong-walled city of Troy, or you yourselves are beaten down beside your seafaring ships. Since the best men of all the Achaeans are here among you, let whichever of you feels his heart urge him to fight me come forward now from all of you, to stand as champion against godlike Hector. And this I proclaim, and let Zeus be our witness: if that man kills me with the long-edged bronze, let him strip my armor and carry it to the hollow ships, but give my body back home, so that the Trojans and their wives may grant me my due of fire when I am dead.
But if I kill him, and Apollo grants me the glory, I will strip his armor and carry it to sacred Troy, and hang it before the temple of far-shooting Apollo, but I will give his body back to the well-benched ships, so that the long-haired Achaeans may bury him with proper rites and heap him a mound beside the broad Hellespont. And someday one of the men born after us, sailing his oar-decked ship over the wine-dark sea, will say:
'That there is the burial mound of a man dead long ago, a champion whom glorious Hector killed in his day.' That is what someone will say — and my glory will never die."
So he spoke, and all of them fell silent, struck still. They were ashamed to refuse him, yet afraid to accept. At last Menelaus rose among them and spoke, taunting them bitterly, groaning aloud in his heart: "Shame on you, boasters, Achaean women, not Achaean men! This will be a disgrace beyond all disgraces, terrible to the very core,"
"if no one among the Danaans now goes out to face Hector. May every one of you rot into water and earth, sitting there useless, without honor, without glory!"
"I myself will arm and go against him — the threads of victory rest, after all, in the hands of the immortal gods above." So speaking he began to put on his fine armor. And there, Menelaus, your life would have met its end at Hector's hands, since Hector was far the stronger man, had the Achaean kings not leapt up and seized you. Agamemnon himself, son of Atreus, wide-ruling lord, took hold of his right hand and spoke to him, calling him by name:
"You have lost your senses, Menelaus, king cherished by Zeus — there is no need for this madness. Hold yourself back, hard as it is,"
"and do not, out of stubborn pride, choose to fight a better man than you — Hector, son of Priam, whom even other men dread. Even Achilles shudders to meet this man in battle, where men win their glory, and Achilles is far better than you. Go now, sit down among your company of friends. The Achaeans will raise up some other champion to face him. Bold as Hector is, and never sated with the din of battle, I tell you he will be glad enough to bend his knee, if he escapes alive out of this brutal fight and this savage slaughter." So speaking, the hero won his brother over,
turning him with sound advice, and Menelaus yielded. His attendants gladly lifted the armor from his shoulders. Then Nestor rose and spoke among the Argives: "Ah, what great grief has come upon the land of Achaea! How old horseman Peleus would groan aloud — noble counselor and speaker of the Myrmidons —"
"who once, questioning me with delight in his own house, asked me to name the lineage and birth of every one of the Argives. If he heard now that all of them cower before Hector, how he would lift his hands to the immortals, praying"
that his spirit might leave his limbs and go down into the house of Hades! Oh, Father Zeus, and Athena, and Apollo — if only I were young again, as I was when the gathered men of Pylos and the spear-fighting Arcadians fought beside the swift-flowing river Celadon, beneath the walls of Pheia, around the streams of the Iardanus. There stood Ereuthalion before them as their champion, a man like a god,
wearing on his shoulders the armor of lord Areithous — godlike Areithous, whom men and fair-girdled women called by the name Club-man, because he fought neither with bow nor with the long spear,
but shattered the ranks with an iron club. Lycurgus killed him by treachery, not by strength — in a narrow pass, where the iron club could not save him from ruin, for Lycurgus struck first, driving his spear through his middle, and he was pinned on his back to the ground. Lycurgus stripped off his armor, which bronze Ares had given the man, and afterward wore it himself into the crush of battle. But when Lycurgus grew old within his own halls,
he gave it to his dear attendant Ereuthalion to wear. Wearing that armor, Ereuthalion challenged all our best men.
And they all trembled with fear, and none dared face him. But my own stubborn heart drove me to fight him, though I was the youngest of them all in years, trusting to my own courage — and I fought him, and Athena granted me the glory. He was the tallest and strongest man I ever killed; his huge body sprawled this way and that across the ground. If only I were young again, my strength still whole, then helmet-flashing Hector would soon find someone to meet him. But among you, the best men of all the Achaeans,"
not one of you is eager to go and face Hector." So the old man rebuked them, and nine men rose at once. Far first among them rose Agamemnon, lord of men, and after him rose mighty Diomedes, son of Tydeus, and after them the two Ajaxes, clothed in fierce courage, and after them Idomeneus and Idomeneus's companion Meriones, a match for man-slaying Ares, and after them Eurypylus, splendid son of Euaemon, and Thoas son of Andraemon rose, and godlike Odysseus — all of them wanted to fight against godlike Hector. Gerenian Nestor, the horseman, spoke to them again:
"Now shuffle the lots among you, all the way through, whoever draws it will be chosen — for that man will do great good for the well-greaved Achaeans, and he himself will do his own heart good, if he escapes alive out of this brutal fight and this savage slaughter." So he spoke, and each man marked his own lot and threw it into the helmet of Agamemnon, son of Atreus. The soldiers prayed, lifting their hands to the gods, and this is what one of them would say, looking up at the wide sky:
"Father Zeus, let it fall to Ajax, or to the son of Tydeus, or to the king himself of gold-rich Mycenae."
So they spoke, and Gerenian Nestor the horseman shook the helmet, and out leapt the lot the men themselves had been hoping for, Ajax's lot. A herald carried it around through the crowd in every direction, showing it to each of the Achaean champions from right to left, and none of them recognized it and each denied it was his. But when at last the herald reached, carrying it around through the crowd, the man who had marked it and thrown it into the helmet, glorious Ajax, he held out his hand, and the herald came close and placed the lot in it.
Ajax recognized the mark on the lot when he saw it, and his heart rejoiced. He threw it down on the ground at his feet and called out:
"Friends, the lot is mine indeed, and I am glad of it in my own heart, for I believe I will defeat godlike Hector. But come — while I put on my armor of war, all of you pray to lord Zeus, son of Cronus, silently, to yourselves, so that the Trojans do not hear — or openly, if you like, since we fear no one in any case. No man is going to drive me off by force, against my will and by his own choosing, nor by any skill either — I hope I was not born and raised in Salamis to be that much of a novice." So he spoke, and they prayed to lord Zeus, son of Cronus.
And this is what one of them would say, looking up at the wide sky: "Father Zeus, ruling from Ida, most glorious, greatest — grant victory to Ajax, let him win shining glory. But if you love Hector too, and care for him, then grant both men equal strength and equal glory." So they spoke, while Ajax armed himself in gleaming bronze. And when he had put all the armor on his body, he charged forward the way monstrous Ares goes when he strides into war among men whom the son of Cronus has driven together to fight in the fury of heart-devouring strife.
Just so monstrous Ajax rose up, bulwark of the Achaeans, a smile on his grim face, his feet beneath him taking long strides as he went, shaking his long-shadowed spear. The Argives rejoiced as they watched him, but a terrible trembling crept into the limbs of every Trojan, and Hector's own heart pounded in his chest. But there was no way now for him to shrink back or slip away into the crowd of his men, since it was he who had issued the challenge to fight. Ajax came near, carrying his shield like a tower, bronze over seven ox-hides, which Tychius had labored to make for him,
far the best of the leather-workers, who had his house in Hyle. He had made him the glancing shield of seven hides from well-fed bulls, and hammered an eighth layer of bronze on top. Holding it before his chest, Telamonian Ajax came and stood very close to Hector, and spoke to him with a threat: "Hector, now you will learn plainly, man against man, what kind of champions are to be found among the Danaans, even apart from Achilles, breaker of men, the lion-hearted. He lies among his beaked seafaring ships, raging at Agamemnon, shepherd of his people —
but we are men who can stand against you, and there are many of us. So begin the fight, begin the combat."
And tall Hector of the flashing helmet answered him: "Ajax, sprung from Zeus, son of Telamon, leader of men — do not test me as if I were some feeble boy, or a woman who knows nothing of the works of war. I know battles and the killing of men well enough. I know how to swing my ox-hide shield to the right, and how to swing it to the left — that, to me, is what fighting under a shield really means. I know how to charge into the melee of swift horses,
and I know how to tread the measure for deadly Ares in close standing combat. But big as you are, I have no wish to strike you by stealth, watching for my chance — I will do it openly, if I can hit you."
So he spoke, and drawing back his long-shadowed spear he hurled it, and struck Ajax's terrible seven-hide shield on its outermost bronze, the eighth layer that lay upon it. Through six folds the unwearying bronze went shearing, but in the seventh hide it stopped. Then in his turn Ajax, sprung from Zeus, hurled his long-shadowed spear, and struck the son of Priam's shield, balanced evenly on every side.
Through the shining shield the heavy spear drove, and forced its way on through the richly worked breastplate; straight on, along his flank, the spear sheared through his tunic — but Hector swerved aside and escaped black death. Then the two of them, wrenching the long spears out with their hands, fell on each other like flesh-eating lions, or wild boars, whose strength is not easily worn down. The son of Priam then stabbed the middle of Ajax's shield with his spear, but the bronze did not break through, and the point was bent back. Ajax leapt in and stabbed at Hector's shield, and straight through it
the spear went, and it staggered him in his eagerness; it slashed into his neck as it passed, and the dark blood came welling up. But even then Hector of the flashing helmet did not break off the fight. Falling back, he seized in his thick hand a stone that lay on the plain, black and rough and huge, and with it he struck Ajax's terrible seven-hide shield square on the boss, and the bronze rang out all around it. Then in his turn Ajax lifted a far bigger stone, whirled it, and let it fly, putting immeasurable force behind it, and the millstone of a rock smashed the shield inward,
and Hector's knees gave way beneath him; he was stretched flat on his back, pinned under his shield — but Apollo quickly set him on his feet again. And now they would have been hacking at each other hand to hand with swords, had not the heralds, messengers of Zeus and of men, come between them, one from the Trojans, one from the bronze-clad Achaeans — Talthybius and Idaeus, both men of good sense. They held out their staffs between the two fighters, and the herald Idaeus, whose mind was full of wise counsel, spoke: "Fight no longer, dear sons — do not go on with this battle. Zeus the cloud-gatherer loves you both,
Both are spearmen — that much we all know. Night is already coming on, and it is good to yield to night.
So spoke Telamonian Ajax in answer: "Idaeus, tell Hector to say these things himself — it was he who called out all our best men to fight. Let him begin, and I will gladly follow whatever he decides."
And tall Hector of the flashing helmet answered him: "Ajax, since a god has given you size and strength and good sense, and with the spear you are the best of the Achaeans, let us break off the fighting and the killing for today. We will fight again another time, until some power decides between our armies and grants the victory to one side or the other. Night is already coming on, and it is good to yield to night — go and gladden all the Achaeans by the ships, above all your own kinsmen and companions who belong to you, and I for my part will go through the great city of lord Priam and gladden the Trojans and the Trojan women who trail their long robes, the women who go to pray for me in the sacred assembly. But come, let us each give the other a splendid gift, so that Achaeans and Trojans alike may say: 'These two fought each other in heart-devouring hatred, and then parted again in friendship.'"
With these words he gave Ajax his silver-studded sword, together with its sheath and its well-cut sword belt, and Ajax gave him a war belt bright with purple dye. So the two parted, one going back to the ranks of the Achaeans, the other to the crowd of Trojans, who rejoiced to see him coming toward them alive and unhurt, having escaped the fury and the unconquerable hands of Ajax. They led him toward the city, scarcely believing he was safe.
On the other side the well-armed Achaeans led Ajax to godlike Agamemnon, glad in his victory. When they had come to the tents of the son of Atreus, the lord of men, Agamemnon, sacrificed a five-year-old bull in his honor to the almighty son of Cronus. They flayed it and dressed it, cutting the whole carcass apart, then skillfully sliced it into pieces and skewered them on spits, roasted them with care, and drew everything off the fire. When the work was finished and the meal prepared, they feasted, and no man's appetite went without its fair share.
The warrior son of Atreus, wide-ruling Agamemnon, honored Ajax with long strips cut from the loin. When they had put aside their desire for food and drink, old Nestor, whose counsel had always proved best before, began to weave his plan for them. Thinking of their good, he spoke and said to them:
"Son of Atreus, and you other chiefs of all the Achaeans, many long-haired Achaeans have died, whose dark blood fierce Ares has now scattered around the fair-flowing Scamander, and whose spirits have gone down to the house of Hades. So at daybreak you should call a halt to the Achaeans' fighting, and we ourselves will gather and haul the dead here on wagons drawn by oxen and mules. We will burn them a little way off from the ships, so that each man may carry the bones home to his children when we return again to our native land. And around the pyre let us build a single burial mound, heaping it up from the plain without distinction of rank, and next to it let us quickly raise high walls to shelter both the ships and ourselves. Let us build well-fitted gates in the walls, so that a road wide enough for chariots may run through them,
and outside, close by, let us dig a deep trench, which will hold back both horses and men and keep the proud Trojans' war from ever bearing down on us too hard."
So he spoke, and all the kings approved his words.
Meanwhile the Trojans held an assembly on the height of Ilion, before Priam's doors, a fierce and troubled gathering. Wise Antenor was the first to speak among them: "Hear me, Trojans and Dardanians and allies, so that I may say what the heart in my chest urges me to say. Come, let us give back Argive Helen and the treasure with her for the sons of Atreus to take away. As it stands we are fighting after breaking our sworn oaths, and I do not expect anything good to come of it for us unless we do as I say."
When he had spoken this and sat down, godlike Alexander, husband of fair-haired Helen, rose and answered him: "Antenor, what you propose no longer pleases me. You know how to find a better plan than this one. But if you are truly speaking in earnest, then the gods themselves must have destroyed your wits.
As for me, I will speak plainly before the horse-taming Trojans: I flatly refuse to give back the woman. But as for the treasure I brought from Argos to our house, all of it I am willing to give back, and I will add more from my own stores besides."
When he had spoken this and sat down, Priam, son of Dardanus, a counselor equal to the gods, rose and spoke among them, thinking of their good: "Hear me, Trojans and Dardanians and allies, so that I may say what the heart in my chest urges me to say. For now, take your evening meal throughout the city as before,
and remember to keep watch, and let each man stay alert. At dawn let Idaeus go to the hollow ships to tell the sons of Atreus, Agamemnon and Menelaus, Alexander's offer, the very cause of this quarrel — and let him also carry this careful proposal, that if they are willing, we should stop the grim, echoing war until we have burned our dead. Afterward we will fight again, until some power decides between us and grants the victory to one side or the other."
So he spoke, and they listened closely and did as he said. Then they took their evening meal by companies throughout the camp.
At dawn Idaeus went to the hollow ships. He found the Danaans, servants of Ares, gathered in assembly beside Agamemnon's ship, and standing among them the loud-voiced herald called out: "Son of Atreus, and you other chiefs of all the Achaeans, Priam and the rest of the noble Trojans bid me tell you, if it should be welcome and pleasing to you, Alexander's message, the very cause of this quarrel. The treasure that Alexander brought to Troy in his hollow ships — and better if he had perished before ever bringing it —
all of it he is willing to give back, and add more from his own house besides. But his lawful wife, wedded to glorious Menelaus, he says he will not give back, though the Trojans urge him to do so. They also bid me say this: if you are willing, stop the grim, echoing war until we have burned our dead. Afterward we will fight again, until some power decides between us and grants the victory to one side or the other."
So he spoke, and all of them fell silent, saying nothing. At last Diomedes, good at the war cry, spoke among them: "Let no man now accept Alexander's treasure,
nor Helen either. It is plain, even to the simplest mind, that the cords of destruction now hang over the Trojans."
So he spoke, and all the sons of the Achaeans shouted their approval, marveling at the words of horse-taming Diomedes. Then lord Agamemnon spoke to Idaeus: "Idaeus, you have yourself heard the Achaeans' answer, how they respond to you, and it pleases me as well. As for the dead, I do not grudge the burning of them at all — there should be no stinting toward corpses once they are dead; let them be swiftly appeased with fire.
Let Zeus, the loud-thundering husband of Hera, witness the truce." So saying, he raised his scepter before all the gods, and Idaeus went back again toward sacred Ilion. There the Trojans and Dardanians sat gathered in assembly, all of them together, waiting for Idaeus to return. He came and delivered his message, standing in their midst, and at once they armed themselves in haste, some to bring in the dead, others to gather wood. And on the other side the Argives too, from their well-benched ships, set out both to bring in the dead and to gather wood.
The sun was just striking the fields with new light, rising out of the deep, quietly flowing stream of Ocean into the sky, when the two sides met each other. Then it was hard to tell each man apart, but they washed the clotted blood from the bodies with water, shedding hot tears, and lifted them onto the wagons. Great Priam would not allow loud weeping, and in silence, grieving in their hearts, they piled the dead upon the pyre, and when they had burned them in the fire they went back to sacred Ilion. In the same way, on the other side, the well-armed Achaeans
piled their own dead upon a pyre, grieving in their hearts, and when they had burned them in the fire they went back to the hollow ships. While it was not yet dawn, but still the twilight edge of night, a chosen band of Achaeans rose around the pyre, and around it they built a single mound, heaping it up from the plain without distinction, and next to it they raised a wall,
with high towers to shelter both the ships and themselves. In the wall they set well-fitted gates, so that a road for chariots might run through them, and outside it, close by, they dug a deep trench,
wide and great, and in it they planted sharp stakes. So the long-haired Achaeans labored, while the gods, seated beside Zeus who hurls the lightning, watched the great work of the bronze-armored Achaeans in wonder. Poseidon, shaker of the earth, was the first among them to speak: "Father Zeus, is there any mortal left on the boundless earth who will still tell the immortals his plans and his purposes?
Do you not see that once more the long-haired Achaeans have built a wall to guard their ships, and drawn a trench around it, without offering the gods any splendid sacrifice?
The fame of this wall will spread as far as the light of dawn reaches, and men will forget the one that Phoebus Apollo and I built with such labor for the hero Laomedon."
Deeply troubled, Zeus the cloud-gatherer answered him: "Ah, mighty shaker of the earth, what a thing you have said. Some other god, one far weaker than you in hand and strength, might fear this notion — but your own fame will spread as far as the light of dawn reaches. Come now — once the long-haired Achaeans
have gone with their ships back to their own dear homeland,
break the wall apart and pour it all into the sea, and bury the great shore again under sand, so that this great wall of the Achaeans may be wiped away completely."
So the two gods spoke to each other of such things. Meanwhile the sun went down, and the Achaeans' work was finished. They slaughtered cattle throughout the camp and took their evening meal. Ships came in from Lemnos bringing wine,
many of them, sent by Jason's son Euneus, whom Hypsipyle had borne to Jason, shepherd of his people. Apart from the rest, the son of Jason had sent
a thousand measures of wine to be brought specially to Agamemnon and Menelaus. From these ships the long-haired Achaeans bought their wine, some with bronze, some with gleaming iron, some with hides, some with whole cattle, and some with slaves — and they laid out a rich feast. All that night the long-haired Achaeans feasted, and the Trojans and their allies feasted too throughout the city, and all that night Zeus the counselor devised evil for them, thundering terribly, and pale fear seized them. They poured wine from their cups onto the ground, and no man dared
to drink before he had poured an offering to the almighty son of Cronus. Then at last they lay down and took the gift of sleep.