Homer · a new plain-English translation from the Greek
Now that Zeus had driven the Trojans and Hector up against the ships, he left them there to bear the toil and suffering without end, and turned his shining eyes away, gazing instead upon the land of the horse-breeding Thracians, the Mysians who fight hand to hand, the proud mare-milking Hippemolgoi who live on milk, and the Abioi, most just of all men. Toward Troy he no longer turned his gaze at all, for he did not imagine in his heart that any god would still go there to help either the Trojans or the Greeks. But the mighty Earthshaker was not keeping blind watch.
He too sat marveling at the war and the fighting, high on the topmost peak of wooded Samothrace, from where all of Ida could be seen, and Priam's city, and the ships of the Greeks. There he had come up out of the sea to sit, and he pitied the Greeks being beaten down by the Trojans, and he was fiercely angry at Zeus. At once he came down from the rugged mountain, striding swiftly on his feet, and the tall peaks and the forest trembled beneath the immortal footsteps of Poseidon as he went.
Three strides he took, and with the fourth he reached his goal: Aegae, where his famous palace stands deep in the waters, gleaming gold, built to last forever. There he arrived and yoked to his chariot his two bronze-hoofed horses, swift of wing, their manes flowing gold. He clothed himself in gold, took up his gold whip, finely made, and mounted his chariot, and drove out over the waves. Sea beasts came playing up around him from every hiding place, for they knew their lord well, and the sea parted in joy before him. The horses flew on swift and light, and the bronze axle beneath was never wetted.
So his prancing horses bore him on to the ships of the Greeks. There is a wide cave deep in the waters, between Tenedos and rugged Imbros, and there Poseidon the Earthshaker stopped the horses, loosed them from the chariot, and threw down ambrosial fodder for them to eat, and bound their feet with golden hobbles, unbreakable, that could not be slipped, so that they would stay there steady awaiting their lord's return. Then he went on to the army of the Greeks.
The Trojans, like a blazing fire or a storm-wind, followed Hector son of Priam in one close mass, raging without pause, shouting, howling, expecting to seize the ships of the Greeks and kill all their best men right there beside them. But Poseidon, who holds and shakes the earth, came up out of the deep sea and roused the Argives, taking the shape and the tireless voice of Calchas. First he spoke to the two men named Ajax, who were already eager for battle:
"You two Ajaxes, you can save the army of the Greeks, if you remember your courage and put aside cold panic. Anywhere else along the wall I would not fear the irresistible hands of the Trojans who have climbed over our great rampart in their numbers, for the well-greaved Greeks will hold them all back. But here is where I dread most terribly that we may suffer harm — here where that madman leads them on like a blazing fire, Hector, who boasts he is the son of mighty Zeus. May some god put it into your hearts to stand firm yourselves and urge the others on as well. Then you could drive him back from the swift ships even in his fury, even if it is the Olympian himself who is stirring him up."
So saying, the Earthshaker who holds the earth struck them both with his staff and filled them with fierce strength, and made their limbs light, their feet and the hands above them. Then, like a swift-winged hawk that rises from a sheer, towering cliff and swoops down over the plain chasing another bird, so Poseidon the Earthshaker darted away from them. Ajax son of Oileus, quick of foot, was the first of the two to recognize him, and at once he spoke to Ajax son of Telamon:
"Ajax, since one of the gods who hold Olympus, wearing the shape of the prophet, is urging us to fight beside the ships — and this is not Calchas the seer who reads the birds, for I knew him at once by his tracks and the set of his legs and calves as he went away; the gods are easy to recognize — even now the heart in my own chest is roused all the more to fight and do battle, and my feet below are eager, and my hands above."
Ajax son of Telamon answered him: "So too my hands are raging now, unstoppable, around my spear, and my strength has risen, and beneath me both my feet are straining to run. I am eager to fight Hector son of Priam, raging as he is, even alone."
So the two spoke to each other, rejoicing in the battle-lust the god had cast into their hearts. Meanwhile the Earthshaker roused the men behind them, who were resting their hearts beside the swift ships. Their limbs were loosened by grievous weariness, and grief filled their hearts as they watched the Trojans who had swarmed over the great wall. Watching them, tears fell from beneath their brows, for they did not think they would escape the disaster. But the Earthshaker moved easily among them and roused their strong ranks.
He came first to Teucer and Leitus, urging them on, and to the hero Peneleos, and Thoas, and Deipyrus, and Meriones, and Antilochus, masters of the war cry. Urging them he spoke winged words: "Shame, you Argives, you young men! I trust that if you fight, you can save our ships. But if you give way to this wretched war, then this very day it will be clear the Trojans have beaten us. Ah, what a great and terrible wonder I see before my eyes — a thing I never thought could come to pass —
the Trojans coming against our ships, they who before were like fleeing deer, that in the forest become the prey of jackals and leopards and wolves, running about helplessly, with no fight in them at all. So it was that the Trojans before would not stand and face the strength and hands of the Greeks, not even for a moment. But now, far from their city, they are fighting beside our hollow ships, and it is because of the cowardice of our leader and the slackness of our men, who quarrel with him and are unwilling to defend the swift ships, but instead are being killed among them.
But even if it is altogether true that the hero, wide-ruling Agamemnon son of Atreus, is to blame, because he dishonored the swift-footed son of Peleus, still it is not right for us to hold back from the fighting. Let us make amends quickly instead — the hearts of good men can be healed. But you, all of you, the best men in the whole army, can no longer rightly hold back your furious courage. I myself would not quarrel with a man who held back from war if he were a coward by nature, but at you I am bitterly indignant in my heart. My friends, soon you will bring about some worse disaster
through this very slackness. Let each of you set in his heart shame and indignation — for indeed a great struggle has risen up. Hector, good at the war cry, is fighting fiercely beside the ships. He has broken the gates and the great bar." So urging them the Earthshaker roused the Greeks. Around the two Ajaxes the strong ranks took their stand, ranks that not even Ares coming among them could find fault with, nor Athena who drives men to battle. For the chosen best men awaited the Trojans and shining Hector, fencing spear against spear, shield against overlapping shield,
buckler leaning on buckler, helmet on helmet, man on man; the horsehair crests on the gleaming ridges of their helmets touched as they nodded, so closely packed did they stand against one another; the spears shook and quivered in their bold hands as they brandished them; and their minds were fixed straight ahead, and they longed to fight. Then the Trojans surged forward in a mass, and Hector led them, driving straight on, like a great boulder that a river swollen with rain has torn loose from a cliff-face, bursting the bank's hold with its terrible flood — the boulder leaps up and flies as it bounds, and the forest crashes beneath it,
and it runs on steadily and surely, until it reaches level ground, and then it rolls no more for all its speed. So Hector for a time threatened that he would easily sweep through the huts and ships of the Greeks all the way to the sea, killing as he went. But when he ran into the packed ranks, he stopped, forced to a halt hard against them, and the sons of the Greeks facing him, thrusting with swords and double-edged spears, drove him back from among them, and he gave ground, staggering. Then he cried out, shouting far and wide to the Trojans:
"Trojans, and Lycians, and Dardanians who fight hand to hand, hold your ground! The Greeks will not keep me back for long, even though they have set themselves in a wall like a tower — no, I think they will give way before my spear, if truly the greatest of the gods, the loud-thundering husband of Hera, is driving me on." So saying he roused the strength and spirit of each man.
Among them Deiphobus son of Priam strode forward, thinking great thoughts, holding before him his shield that covered him all around, stepping lightly and advancing behind his shield's cover. Meriones aimed his shining spear at him and threw, and did not miss — he struck the round shield made of bull's hide, but did not drive through it; instead, well before that, the long shaft snapped at the socket. Deiphobus held the bull's-hide shield away from himself, afraid in his heart of the spear of bold Meriones, and the hero drew back into the crowd of his comrades,
raging bitterly at the double loss, both of victory and of his broken spear. He went off along the huts and ships of the Greeks to fetch the long spear that had been left behind in his hut. The rest went on fighting, and the unquenchable war cry rose up. Teucer son of Telamon was the first to kill a man there — the spearman Imbrius, son of Mentor rich in horses.
He had lived in Pedaeum before the sons of the Greeks came, and he held Medesicaste, a bastard daughter of Priam, as his wife. But when the curved ships of the Danaans arrived, he went back to Ilium, where he was prominent among the Trojans, and lived with Priam, who honored him equal to his own children. Now the son of Telamon struck him beneath the ear with his long spear and pulled the spear back out, and Imbrius fell like an ash tree that on a mountain peak, visible from far off,
is cut down by bronze and brings its tender leaves down to the earth — so he fell, and around him his armor rang out, wrought bright with bronze. Teucer rushed forward, eager to strip his armor, but as he rushed in Hector threw his shining spear at him. Teucer, watching him, dodged the bronze spear just barely, but it struck Amphimachus, son of Cteatus, grandson of Actor, in the chest with the spear as he was coming into the fight;
he fell with a crash, and his armor clattered upon him. Hector rushed forward to snatch from great-hearted Amphimachus's head the helmet that fit close to his temples, but as he rushed in, Ajax thrust with his shining spear at Hector, though it did not reach his flesh, for he was wholly covered in terrible bronze — instead it struck the boss of his shield and drove him back with great force, and he gave ground away from the two corpses, which the Greeks then dragged off.
Amphimachus was carried back among the ranks of the Greeks by Stichius and noble Menestheus, leaders of the Athenians. Imbrius the two Ajaxes carried off, both eager for furious battle — like two lions that snatch a goat from sharp-toothed hounds and carry it off through the dense brush, holding it high above the ground in their jaws — so the two Ajaxes, armored for war, held him up high
and stripped his armor. Then the son of Oileus, enraged over Amphimachus, cut the head from Imbrius's soft neck, and sent it spinning like a ball through the crowd, until it fell in the dust before Hector's feet.
Then indeed Poseidon was angered to the heart, for his grandson had fallen in the grim slaughter, and he went off along the huts and ships of the Greeks to rouse the Danaans further, and to work grief for the Trojans. Idomeneus, famed for his spear, met him there,
coming from a comrade who had just come back from the fighting, struck behind the knee by sharp bronze. His comrades had carried him back, and Idomeneus, having given orders to the healers, was making his way to his hut, for he still longed to face the war. Then the mighty Earthshaker spoke to him, taking on the voice of Thoas son of Andraemon, who ruled over all Pleuron and steep Calydon among the Aetolians, and was honored by his people like a god:
"Idomeneus, counselor of the Cretans, where have your threats gone now — the threats the sons of the Greeks made against the Trojans?"
Idomeneus, leader of the Cretans, answered him: "Thoas, no man is to blame now, as far as I can tell — we all know how to fight. No fear holds any man frozen, nor does anyone shrink back from this wretched war out of cowardice. It seems, rather, that this is simply how it must please the almighty son of Cronus — that the Greeks should perish here far from Argos, unremembered. But Thoas, you were always steady in battle before, and you rouse others too wherever you see a man slacking. So now do not give up — call on every man you see."
Then Poseidon the Earthshaker answered him: "Idomeneus, may that man never return home from Troy, but may he become sport for the dogs right here, whoever willingly gives up the fight this day. Come now, take up your armor and follow me — we must hurry, if the two of us together are to do any good. Even weak men gain strength joined together, and the two of us know how to fight even against strong men." So saying the god went back again into the toil of men, and Idomeneus, when he reached his well-built hut,
put on his fine armor about his body, took up his two spears, and went out looking like a lightning bolt that the son of Cronus grasps in his hand and hurls flashing from bright Olympus, showing a sign to mortals, its rays plain to see — so the bronze flashed about his chest as he ran. Meriones, his good attendant, met him still near his hut, coming to fetch a bronze spear, and the strength of Idomeneus spoke to him:
"Meriones son of Molus, swiftest of feet, dearest of my comrades, why have you come, leaving the war and the fighting?
Are you wounded, does the point of some weapon trouble you, or have you come with some message for me? I myself have no wish to sit in the huts — I want to fight."
Wise Meriones answered him in turn: "Idomeneus, counselor of the bronze-clad Cretans, I have come to see if you have a spear left in your hut to fetch, for the one I had before I broke, striking the shield of overbearing Deiphobus." Idomeneus, leader of the Cretans, answered him: "Spears — if you want them, you will find one and twenty
standing in my hut against the gleaming inner wall — Trojan spears, which I take from men I kill, for it is not my way to fight standing far off from my enemies. So I have spears, and bossed shields, and helmets, and breastplates bright with polish." Wise Meriones answered him in turn: "I too have plenty of spoils from Trojans in my own hut and by my black ship, but they are not near at hand to take. For I do not think that I myself have forgotten my courage either —
I stand among the foremost in the battle that brings men glory, whenever the strife of war rises up. Perhaps some other bronze-clad Greek fails to notice me fighting, but I think you know it well yourself." Idomeneus, leader of the Cretans, answered him: "I know the kind of courage you have — why do you need to say this? For if now, beside the ships, all the best men were being chosen for an ambush, where a man's courage shows itself most clearly —
there the coward and the brave man both stand revealed. The coward's color changes from one moment to the next, and his heart will not let him sit still, but he shifts from foot to foot, crouching first on one and then the other, and his heart pounds hard in his chest as he imagines death, and his teeth chatter. But the brave man's color does not change, and he feels no great fear once he has taken his place in the ambush, and he prays only to be plunged as quickly as possible into grim battle —
no one could find fault then with your strength or your hands. For even if you were struck or wounded while at your work, the blow would not land in the back of your neck or your back, but would meet you full in the chest or belly
as you pressed forward among the champions in close combat. But come, let us stand here no longer talking like children, lest someone grow angry at our delay. Go to the hut and take your heavy spear." So he spoke, and Meriones, a match for swift Ares, quickly went to the hut and took up a bronze spear, and followed after Idomeneus, his heart set on war. Just as man-destroying Ares goes out to battle, and with him goes his son Panic, dear to him, strong and fearless, who can put to flight even a hardy warrior —
Together they went off toward the Ephyrians of Thrace, or toward the great-hearted Phlegyans -- but neither of them listened to both sides; they simply handed victory to one or the other. Such were Meriones and Idomeneus, leaders of men, as they went into battle armored in gleaming bronze. Meriones spoke first to Idomeneus:
"Son of Deucalion, where do you mean to plunge into the crowd -- on the right of the whole army, or through the center, or on the left? Nowhere else, I think, do the long-haired Achaeans need help so badly."
Idomeneus, leader of the Cretans, answered him: "At the ships in the middle there are others to defend us -- the two Ajaxes and Teucer, best of the Achaeans with the bow, and no mean man in close combat either. They will give Hector son of Priam all the fighting he wants, strong as he is. Steep will be his climb, however hard he burns to fight, to beat down their strength and their unstoppable hands and set fire to the ships -- unless Zeus himself hurls a burning brand down on the swift hulls.
"Great Ajax son of Telamon would yield to no man who is mortal and eats the grain of Demeter and can be broken by bronze or by great stones -- not even to Achilles, breaker of men, would he give ground in a stand-up fight, though in speed of foot no one can match Achilles. So turn us now toward the left of the army, so that we may quickly see whether we hand glory to some other man, or some other man hands it to us."
So he spoke, and Meriones, swift as fierce Ares, led the way until they reached the part of the army he had told him to reach. And when the Trojans saw Idomeneus, like a flame in his fury,
himself and his attendant in their intricate armor, they shouted to one another through the crowd and all bore down on him together. And the fighting rose to meet them there by the sterns of the ships. As when gales driven by shrill winds rage on a day when the dust lies thickest on the roads, and together they raise a great cloud of it -- so now the battle came together, and men's hearts burned to cut each other down in the crowd with sharp bronze. The man-killing battle bristled with the long spears men gripped for tearing flesh, and the eyes were dazzled
by the bronze glare flashing off polished helmets and fresh-scoured breastplates and gleaming shields as the fighters came on together. Only a very hard heart could have looked on that struggle and felt joy rather than grief. And the two mighty sons of Cronus, working against each other, were forging bitter pains for the fighting men. Zeus willed victory for the Trojans and for Hector, to glorify swift-footed Achilles -- yet he did not want the Achaean army to perish utterly before Troy; he only meant to honor Thetis and her strong-hearted son.
Poseidon, for his part, came up secretly from the gray sea and stirred the Argives on, for he was angry to see them beaten down by the Trojans, and he raged bitterly at Zeus. The two gods were of one stock and one lineage, but Zeus was born first and knew more. For this reason Poseidon avoided helping the Achaeans openly, but kept stirring them up in secret, going among the ranks disguised as a man. So the two gods stretched between the armies the taut rope of fierce strife and grinding war, unbreakable, unloosable, that undid the strength in many men's knees.
There, though his hair was already gray, Idomeneus rallied the Danaans and charged among the Trojans, driving fear before him. He cut down Othryoneus, who lived in Cabesus and had come only lately, drawn by the fame of the war. He had asked for the loveliest of Priam's daughters, Cassandra, without bride-price, and had promised a great feat in return -- to drive the sons of the Achaeans, against their will, out of Troy. Old Priam had agreed and given his word to grant her to him, and Othryoneus fought on, trusting to that promise. Idomeneus took aim at him with his shining spear
and struck him as he strode along in his pride, and found his mark; the bronze breastplate he wore did not stop it, and the spear fixed itself in the middle of his belly. He fell with a crash, and Idomeneus exulted over him and cried out: "Othryoneus, I honor you above all mortal men now -- if you really mean to fulfill everything you promised Priam, son of Dardanus, in return for his daughter's hand. We too would have made good on such a promise, and would have offered you the loveliest of Agamemnon's daughters,
bringing her from Argos to be your wife, if you had helped us sack the well-built city of Troy.
"But come with me to the seafaring ships, so that we may settle the marriage there together -- we are not stingy when it comes to bride-gifts." So saying, the hero Idomeneus dragged him by the foot through the fierce fighting. But Asius came up to defend him, on foot, in front of his own chariot, while his charioteer kept the panting horses close behind his shoulders; and Asius longed with all his heart to strike Idomeneus down. But Idomeneus was quicker, and struck him first with his spear
under the chin, driving the bronze straight through his throat. Asius fell like an oak, or a white poplar, or a towering pine tree that carpenters up in the mountains
cut down with new-whetted axes to make ship-timber -- so he lay stretched out before his chariot and horses, groaning and clawing at the bloody dust. His charioteer was struck senseless with fear and did not dare to turn the horses back and escape the enemy's hands, and so Antilochus, staunch in battle, hit him square with his spear; the bronze breastplate he wore did not stop it, and the spear fixed itself in the middle of his belly. Gasping, he tumbled from the well-built chariot, and Antilochus, son of great-hearted Nestor,
drove the horses out from among the Trojans, toward the well-armored Achaeans. Deiphobus, grieving for Asius, came very close to Idomeneus and hurled his shining spear at him. But Idomeneus saw it coming and dodged the bronze point, sheltering behind his shield, round on every side,
which he carried built of oxhide and gleaming bronze, fitted with two cross-bars. Beneath it he crouched entirely, and the bronze spear flew over him, and his shield gave a dry ring as the spearhead grazed across it. Still, it was no wasted throw from that heavy hand --
it struck Hypsenor son of Hippasus, shepherd of his people, under the midriff, in the liver, and instantly loosed his knees beneath him. Deiphobus gave a terrible shout of triumph, crying aloud: "Asius does not lie unavenged after all -- I say that even as he goes down to the House of Hades, that strong keeper of the gate, his heart will rejoice, since I have given him an escort."
So he spoke, and grief seized the Argives at his boast, and it stirred the heart of battle-minded Antilochus above all; yet grieving as he was, he did not forget his comrade, but ran to stand over him and covered him with his shield.
Then two trusted companions stooped and lifted him, Mecisteus son of Echius and godlike Alastor, and carried him, groaning heavily, to the hollow ships. Idomeneus did not slacken his great fury; he was still eager either to wrap some Trojan in black night or himself to fall with a crash while warding off ruin from the Achaeans. Then he struck down the beloved son of Zeus-nurtured Aesyetes, the hero Alcathous, who was son-in-law to Anchises, having married his eldest daughter, Hippodameia, whom her father and lady mother had loved dearly in the house,
beyond all her agemates, for she outshone them all in beauty and skill and wit, and so the best man in wide Troy had married her. Idomeneus now brought him down through Poseidon's hand, dazzling his bright eyes and pinning his shining limbs, so that he could neither flee backward nor dodge aside, but stood stock-still like a pillar or a tall leafy tree while the hero Idomeneus drove his spear into the middle of his chest, and it tore the bronze tunic about him that had always before kept death from his body.
Now it rang out dry as it was torn by the spear. He fell with a crash, and the spear stuck fast in his heart, which still throbbed and shook the butt-end of the shaft, until at last mighty Ares let its force die away. And Idomeneus shouted in triumph, crying aloud: "Deiphobus, shall we call this a fair trade after all -- three men killed for one? Since that is how you boast. Come, madman, stand and face me yourself,
so that you may see what kind of offspring of Zeus has come here -- Zeus, who first fathered Minos to watch over Crete;
Minos fathered a son, blameless Deucalion, and Deucalion fathered me, to be lord over many men in wide Crete. And now my ships have carried me here, to be a curse to you and your father and the rest of the Trojans." So he spoke, and Deiphobus weighed two courses in his mind -- whether to fall back and find some great-hearted Trojan as an ally, or to try Idomeneus alone. As he pondered, it seemed to him the better plan to go find Aeneas, whom he found standing at the very back of the crowd,
for he was always angry at godlike Priam, because, worthy as he was, Priam gave him no honor among the men.
Deiphobus came close and spoke to him in winged words: "Aeneas, counselor of the Trojans, now you must truly stand by your kinsman, if any care for him touches you. Come, let us defend Alcathous, your sister's husband, who raised you in his house when you were small, as your brother-in-law -- and now spear-famed Idomeneus has cut him down." So he spoke, and stirred the heart in Aeneas's chest, and he went after Idomeneus, his mind set hard on war. But fear did not take hold of Idomeneus as if he were some soft boy;
instead he stood his ground, like a wild boar in the mountains, trusting his own strength, who waits for the great roiling crowd of men bearing down on him in some lonely place, his back bristling, his eyes flashing fire, whetting his tusks, eager to fend off both dogs and men. So spear-famed Idomeneus stood firm and did not give way before Aeneas rushing to help his friend, but shouted for his comrades, watching for Ascalaphus and Aphareus and Deipyrus,
and Meriones and Antilochus, all masters of the war-cry; these he urged on, speaking winged words:
"Here, friends, help me -- I stand alone, and I am badly afraid of Aeneas swift of foot bearing down on me, a man very strong at killing men in battle, and he has the full bloom of youth, which is the greatest strength there is. If we were of the same age, with this same spirit, soon either he would carry off great glory, or I would." So he spoke, and all of them, one heart in their breasts, came and stood close by him, resting their shields on their shoulders. Aeneas, on his side, called to his own companions,
watching for Deiphobus and Paris and godlike Agenor,
who were fellow leaders of the Trojans with him; and behind them the troops followed, as sheep follow the ram out from pasture to drink, and the shepherd's heart is glad -- so Aeneas's heart rejoiced in his chest when he saw the mass of troops following after him. Then around Alcathous they closed in hand to hand with their long spears, and the bronze on their chests rang terribly as they aimed at one another through the crowd. And two men bold in war stood out beyond the rest,
Aeneas and Idomeneus, each a match for Ares,
eager to slash each other's flesh with pitiless bronze. Aeneas cast first at Idomeneus, but Idomeneus saw it coming and dodged the bronze spear, and Aeneas's point, quivering, drove into the ground, spent uselessly from his strong hand. Idomeneus struck Oenomaus square in the belly, shattering the plate of his breastplate, and the bronze spilled out his entrails; he fell in the dust and clawed the earth with his hand. Idomeneus pulled his long-shadowed spear
out of the body, but could not manage to strip the fine armor from the man's shoulders too, for he was hard pressed by missiles.
His legs no longer held steady under him for a quick charge after his own throw, nor for dodging another man's; and so, standing his ground, he could still fend off the pitiless day of death, but his feet could no longer carry him swiftly out of the fight. As he withdrew step by step, Deiphobus, who had held a bitter grudge against him all along, hurled his shining spear -- but he missed again, and struck Ascalaphus instead, son of Enyalius; the heavy spear caught him clean through the shoulder,
and he fell in the dust and clawed the earth with his hand.
But thundering Ares had not yet heard that his own son had fallen in the grinding battle; he sat on the peak of Olympus under golden clouds, penned there by the will of Zeus, along with the other immortal gods, all kept back from the fighting. Around Ascalaphus's body men now closed in hand to hand. Deiphobus tore the shining helmet from Ascalaphus's head, but Meriones, swift as fierce Ares, lunged in and struck him in the arm with his spear, and from his hand
the crested helmet dropped, clanging as it hit the ground.
Meriones sprang forward again, like a vulture, and pulled his heavy spear out of the man's upper arm, then fell back into the ranks of his comrades. Polites, Deiphobus's own brother, threw both arms around his waist and led him out of the din of that dreadful battle, until they reached the swift horses waiting behind the fighting with their driver and their gorgeous chariot. These carried him toward the city, groaning heavily,
worn out with pain, blood still running from the fresh wound in his arm. The rest fought on, and the war-cry rose unquenched.
Then Aeneas rushed at Aphareus, son of Caletor, and struck him in the throat as he turned to face him with his sharp spear; his head lolled to one side, his shield and helmet dropped with him, and death that destroys the spirit poured over him. Antilochus watched Thoon as he turned to flee, lunged, and struck him, slicing clean through the vein that runs the whole length of the back up to the neck; he cut it entirely through, and Thoon fell backward in the dust,
both hands stretched out to his comrades. Antilochus rushed at him and began stripping the armor from his shoulders,
glancing about warily, while the Trojans closed in from every side, stabbing at his broad, dazzling shield, but they could not manage to reach Antilochus's soft flesh with the pitiless bronze inside it, for Poseidon, shaker of the earth, was guarding Nestor's son closely even amid that storm of spears. Antilochus was never free of the enemy, but kept wheeling among them, and his spear was never still; he was forever poised in his mind
either to throw it at someone or to charge in close. But as he took aim through the crowd, Adamas
son of Asius saw him, and rushed in close and struck the middle of his shield with sharp bronze; but Poseidon of the dark hair robbed the spearpoint of its force, grudging Adamas Antilochus's life. Part of the spear stuck there like a fire-hardened stake in Antilochus's shield, and the other half lay on the ground; Adamas fell back into the ranks of his comrades, shrinking from death. But Meriones followed after him as he retreated and struck him with his spear
between the genitals and the navel, where wounds bring the most grievous pain to wretched mortals. There the spear fixed itself, and Adamas, impaled on the shaft, writhed
as an ox writhes when mountain herdsmen bind it with cords and drag it off against its will -- so he, struck, writhed for a little while, though not for long, until the hero Meriones came up close and wrenched the spear out of his flesh; and darkness covered his eyes. Helenus struck Deipyrus close up with his great Thracian sword on the temple, and knocked off his helmet, which flew off and fell to the ground,
and one of the fighting Achaeans caught it as it rolled between men's feet. But black night covered Deipyrus's eyes.
Grief seized the son of Atreus, Menelaus good at the war-cry; he strode forward, threatening the lord Helenus, brandishing his sharp spear, while Helenus drew back the bowstring. And so together, at the same moment, one of them made ready to hurl a sharp spear, the other to loose an arrow from the bowstring. Priam's son let fly his arrow, striking Menelaus in the chest, on the plate of his breastplate, but the bitter arrow bounced away. As when beans or dark-skinned chickpeas leap from a broad winnowing shovel across a great threshing floor,
driven by the shrill wind and the thresher's swing --
just so the bitter arrow, glancing far off the breastplate of glorious Menelaus, flew wide. Then the son of Atreus, Menelaus good at the war-cry, struck the hand that held the polished bow; clean through the hand and into the bow itself the bronze spear drove. Helenus fell back into the ranks of his comrades, shrinking from death, his hand hanging useless at his side, the ashen spear dragging from it. Great-hearted Agenor drew the spear out of his hand,
and bound the hand itself tightly in a sling of well-twisted sheep's wool, which his attendant, a shepherd of the people, carried for him.
Pisander went straight for glorious Menelaus, but an evil fate was leading him on to the finish of death, for you, Menelaus, were to bring him down in the grim press of battle. When the two had closed and come near each other, the son of Atreus missed his cast and his spear turned aside, while Pisander struck the shield of glorious Menelaus but could not drive the bronze all the way through, for the broad shield held it, and the spearhead snapped off at the socket. Still his heart lifted and he hoped for victory. But the son of Atreus drew his silver-studded sword and sprang at Pisander, who under his shield snatched up a fine bronze-headed axe on its long, smooth handle of olive wood, and the two struck at each other in the same instant. Pisander's blow landed on the ridge of the horsehair-crested helmet, right at the base of the plume, while Menelaus, as his man came on, struck him above the nose, on the bridge, and the bones cracked, and his two eyes fell bloodied at his feet into the dust, and he doubled over and dropped. Menelaus planted his heel on his chest, stripped his armor, and cried out in triumph:
"So you will leave the ships of the fast-horsed Danaans this way, you arrogant Trojans, never sated with the terror of war! You are not short of other outrage and shame, the shame you piled on me, you vile dogs, and you never feared in your hearts the heavy wrath of thundering Zeus, guardian of guests, who will one day tear down your steep city — you who carried off my wedded wife and much of my wealth for no cause at all, once she had welcomed you under her own roof. And now you are bent on hurling ruinous fire on our seafaring ships, on killing the Achaean fighters. But somewhere you will be checked, for all your lust for war. Father Zeus, they say you surpass all others, men and gods alike, in wisdom, yet all this comes from you: how can you show such favor to men of violence like these, to the Trojans, whose fury is forever reckless, and who never can get their fill of the din and grief of a war that touches all alike? Of everything else there comes satiety — of sleep, of love, of sweet song and the flawless dance — things a man might crave to have his fill of even more than of war. But the Trojans can never be sated with battle."
So Menelaus spoke, and stripping the bloodied gear from the body he gave it to his companions to carry, then went forward again himself and mixed once more among the front fighters.
There the son of King Pylaemenes sprang at him, Harpalion, who had followed his own father to Troy to fight, and never came home again to his father's land. He struck the middle of the shield of the son of Atreus with his spear, close in, but could not drive the bronze all the way through, and he shrank back into the crowd of his companions, warding off death, glancing all around lest anyone's bronze should graze his flesh. But as he was pulling back, Meriones let fly a bronze-tipped arrow and struck him in the right buttock, and the arrow drove straight through, under the bone, into the bladder. He sank down where he was, in the arms of his own comrades, breathing out his life, stretched on the ground like a worm, and his dark blood ran out and soaked the earth. The great-hearted Paphlagonians gathered around him, lifted him onto a chariot, and drove him grieving toward sacred Troy, and his father walked among them shedding tears, but there was no payment to be had for a son now dead.
Paris was seized with rage at heart for his killing, for Harpalion had been his guest-friend among the many Paphlagonians, and in his fury he let fly a bronze-tipped arrow.
There was a man named Euchenor, son of the seer Polyidus, wealthy and noble, whose home was in Corinth, and he had boarded his ship knowing full well the deadly fate before him. Many times good old Polyidus had told him he would waste away from a grievous sickness in his own halls, or else go down at the ships of the Achaeans, beaten by the Trojans. So he chose to escape both the heavy Achaean war-fine and the hateful sickness, so that his heart would not suffer that pain instead. Paris struck him below the jaw, under the ear, and swiftly the life went out of his limbs, and hateful darkness seized him.
So they fought on like a raging fire. But Hector, dear to Zeus, had not yet learned or heard that on the left of the ships his men were being cut down by the Argives, and the glory might soon have gone entirely to the Achaeans — such was the strength with which the earth-shaker who holds the world in his embrace was urging the Argives on, adding his own power besides. But Hector held to the place where he had first burst through the gates and the wall, breaking the packed ranks of the Danaan shield-bearers, where the ships of Ajax and Protesilaus were drawn up along the shore of the gray sea, and above them the wall had been built lowest of all, and there the fighting of men and horses alike grew fiercest.
There the Boeotians and the trailing-tunicked Ionians, the Locrians, the Phthians, and the shining Epeians struggled hard to hold back godlike Hector as he stormed against the ships like a blazing fire, yet they could not drive him off from among them. Chosen men of Athens led the way, and among them Menestheus, son of Peteos, commanded, with Pheidas, Stichius, and brave Bias at his side; of the Epeians, Meges son of Phyleus, Amphion, and Dracius; and before the Phthians, Medon and steadfast Podarces. Medon was the bastard son of godlike Oileus, brother of Ajax, but he lived in Phylace, far from his fatherland, because he had killed a kinsman of Eriopis, his stepmother, the wife of Oileus; while Podarces was the son of Iphiclus, son of Phylacus. Armed before the great-hearted Phthians, these fought alongside the Boeotians in defense of the ships.
But Ajax the swift son of Oileus would no longer stand apart, not even a little, from Ajax son of Telamon. Like two wine-dark oxen straining together with one will to drag a jointed plow through fallow ground, sweat streaming thick around the roots of their horns, held apart only by the smooth-polished yoke as they labor along the furrow until the plow cuts to the edge of the field — so the two men stood close beside each other. Around the son of Telamon followed many brave companions who took up his shield whenever weariness and sweat came upon his knees, but the Locrians did not follow the great-hearted son of Oileus in the same way, for their hearts did not hold firm in a standing fight — they had no bronze horsehair-crested helmets, no round shields, no ash spears, but had come to Troy trusting in bows and in slings of twisted wool, and with these, shooting again and again, they broke apart the Trojan ranks. So the one group fought in front, armored in gleaming bronze, against the Trojans and bronze-helmed Hector, while the others shot from behind unseen, and the Trojans, harried by the arrows, gave no thought to the joy of open combat.
And now the Trojans would have fallen back in misery from the ships and huts, all the way to windy Troy, had not Polydamas come up and spoken to bold Hector:
"Hector, you are a hard man to persuade by any counsel. Because a god has given you mastery in the work of war beyond others, you think you must also outdo all others in judgment — but you cannot have every gift at once, all in yourself alone. To one man a god gives skill in war, to another the dance, to another the lyre and song, and in the heart of another far-seeing Zeus sets a keen mind, from which many men profit, and it saves whole peoples, and the man himself knows best of all that he has it. But I will tell you what seems best to me. All around you the ring of battle is ablaze. The great-hearted Trojans, now that they are over the wall, stand apart, some still armed, others fighting, fewer against more, scattered among the ships. Draw back, then, and call all our best men here, and from that point we can consider the whole plan together — whether we should fall upon the many-benched ships, in case a god is willing to grant us the mastery, or whether we should come away from the ships unharmed. For I fear the Achaeans may pay back yesterday's debt, since beside the ships there waits a man never sated with war, and I do not think he will hold back from the fighting much longer."
So Polydamas spoke, and his sound counsel pleased Hector, who at once leapt down from his chariot in full armor to the ground, and speaking to him in winged words said:
"Polydamas, you hold all our best men here, while I go there and face the fighting. I will come back at once when I have given them their orders."
So he spoke, and set off looking like a snow-covered mountain, shouting as he went, and sped through the ranks of Trojans and allies. And they all rushed toward Polydamas, Panthous' noble son, when they heard Hector's call. Meanwhile Hector himself ranged along the front ranks in search of Deiphobus, mighty Helenus, Asius' son Adamas, and Asius son of Hyrtacus, wherever he might find them. He found them no longer wholly unharmed and untouched by death — some already lay dead by the sterns of the Achaean ships, killed by Argive hands, others lay wounded, struck within the wall. But on the left of the tearful battle he soon found godlike Alexander, husband of lovely-haired Helen, cheering on his comrades and urging them to fight, and coming close beside him spoke shameful words:
"Paris, curse of beauty, woman-mad deceiver, where is Deiphobus, and mighty Helenus, and Adamas son of Asius, and Asius son of Hyrtacus? Where is Othryoneus? Now steep Ilion is utterly ruined from its very height — now your own sheer destruction is certain."
Godlike Alexander answered him: "Hector, since your heart is bent on blaming one who is blameless — there may be other times when I hold back more from the fighting, since my mother did not bear me a total coward. From the moment you rallied our comrades to fight beside the ships, we have been here without a break, matched against the Danaans. Our friends whom you ask after have been killed. Only Deiphobus and mighty Helenus have left the field, both struck in the arm by long spears — but the son of Cronus warded off their death. Now lead on, wherever your heart and spirit bid you, and we will follow eagerly, and I do not think we will fall short in courage, so far as our strength allows — and beyond strength a man cannot fight, however eager he is."
With these words the hero won over his brother's heart, and they went where the fighting and the war-cry were fiercest, around Cebriones and blameless Polydamas, Phalces, Orthaeus, godlike Polyphetes, Palmys, Ascanius, and Morys son of Hippotion, who had come as reliefs from rich Ascania only the morning before, and now Zeus roused them to battle. On they went like a blast of violent winds that sweeps down to the plain beneath the thunder of father Zeus, and with a tremendous roar mingles with the sea, where the many waves of the crashing sea boil up, arching and white-crested, one before another, wave upon wave — so the Trojans came on, rank before rank, some in front, some behind, flashing with bronze, following their leaders. Hector led them, like man-destroying Ares, Priam's son, holding before him his shield, evenly balanced on every side, thick with hides and plated over with much bronze, and around his temples his shining helmet shook as he moved. Everywhere along the ranks he tested his way forward, to see if they would give ground before him as he advanced under cover of his shield, but he could not shake the courage in the hearts of the Achaeans.
Ajax was first to challenge him, striding forward with great steps: "Madman, come closer. Why do you try to frighten the Argives like this? We are not unskilled in war — it is only the cruel lash of Zeus that has beaten us Achaeans down. Your heart, no doubt, hopes to lay waste our ships, but we too have hands ready to defend them. Long before that your own well-peopled city will be captured and sacked by our hands. And I tell you, the time is near when you yourself, running in flight, will pray to father Zeus and the other immortals that your fine-maned horses may be swifter than falcons, as they carry you in a cloud of dust back toward your city."
Even as he spoke, a bird flew past on the right, a high-soaring eagle, and the Achaean army shouted in encouragement at the omen. But shining Hector answered: "Ajax, you blustering fool, what nonsense you speak. If only I could be, for all my days, as surely the son of aegis-bearing Zeus, born of queenly Hera, and honored as Athena and Apollo are honored, as surely as this day now brings disaster on the Argives, every one of them — and you will die among them, if you dare to stand and face my long spear, which will tear that lily-white skin of yours, and you will glut the dogs and birds of Troy with your fat and flesh, fallen by the ships of the Achaeans."
With these words he led the way, and his men followed with a tremendous roar, and the army shouted behind him. The Argives on their side shouted back, and did not forget their courage, but held their ground against the best of the oncoming Trojans. And the clamor of both sides reached the bright sky and the light of Zeus.