The Iliad (Penguin Classics) Read online

  With these words the warrior Idomeneus took him by the foot and began to drag him away through the thick of the action. But now Asius came to the rescue. He was on foot in front of his chariot, which the charioteer kept so close to him that the horses were breathing down his neck. Asius did his best to kill Idomeneus. But Idomeneus was too quick for him. He stabbed him with his spear in the throat under the chin and drove the point right through. Asius crashed down as an oak crashes down (390) or a poplar or a towering pine, which woodsmen cut down in the mountains with their newly sharpened axes to make timbers for a ship. So Asius lay stretched in front of his chariot and horses, gurgling and clutching at the bloody dust.

  Antilochus kills Asius’ charioteer

  His charioteer, losing such wits as he possessed, had not even the presence of mind to turn his horses round and slip out of his enemies’ hands. Resolute Antilochus pinned him with a spear through his middle. Again, the bronze body-armour he was wearing did not serve him well: the spear struck him in the middle of his belly. (400) With a gasp he fell headlong from the well-built chariot and Antilochus, son of great-hearted Nestor, drove his horses out of the Trojan into the Greek lines.

  Deiphobus hits Hypsenor

  Deiphobus, distressed at Asius’ death, came up close to Idomeneus and let fly with a glittering spear. But Idomeneus was on the lookout and avoided the bronze spear by sheltering behind the rounded shield he always carried. It was built of concentric rings of oxhide and of glittering bronze and was fitted with a couple of cross-struts. He crouched under cover of this, and the bronze spear flew over him, drawing a hollow note from the shield as it grazed its edge. (410) But the spear had not flown from Deiphobus’ strong arm for nothing. It struck Hypsenor son of Hippasus, shepherd of the people, in the liver under the midriff, bringing him down at once. Deiphobus boasted of his triumph over him in a loud voice:

  ‘So Asius does not lie unavenged! Even on his way to the mighty gate-keeper Hades, I feel he will travel with a light heart now I’ve given him an escort.’

  So he spoke, and his boasting stung the Greeks. It went straight to the heart of warlike Antilochus in particular who, (420) for all his sorrow, did not forget his comrade but ran to stand over him and cover him with his shield. Then two of their trusty men, Mecisteus and worthy Alastor, lifted him from the ground and carried him off to the hollow ships, groaning heavily.

  But Idomeneus was still brimming with energy. His one desire was to bring black night down on a Trojan’s eyes or to thud to the ground himself in saving the Greeks from destruction. His next victim was the warrior Alcathous, son of Aesyetes and son-in-law of Anchises, whose eldest daughter, Hippodameia, (430) was his wife. Her father and lady mother at home adored her; indeed, there was no other woman of her age with such beauty, skill and intelligence. So the best man in broad Troy had married her – the man Poseidon now killed at Idomeneus’ hands. Poseidon put Alcathous in a trance and so shackled his limbs that he could neither retreat nor leap aside, but was standing there, motionless, like a gravestone or tall, leafy tree when the warrior Idomeneus stabbed him with his spear full in the chest and (440) smashed through his bronze armour.

  Idomeneus kills Alcathous and taunts Deiphobus

  Up to this moment it had saved him from death, but now it rang out drily as the spear cut through. Alcathous thudded to the ground. The spear was fixed in his heart and its dying palpitations shook the spear to the very butt till at last the imperious War-god Ares stilled its force. Idomeneus boasted of his triumph over him in a loud voice:

  ‘Deiphobus, do we reckon my three victims are a fair exchange for the one you were boasting about so much? Come on, you lucky fellow, tackle me yourself and learn the quality of one of (450) Zeus’ offspring who is visiting your land. It was Zeus who established our line. He first fathered Minos, lord of Crete; matchless Deucalion was Minos’ son; and I am Deucalion’s lord over many people in broad Crete; and now my ships have brought me here to bring trouble on you and your father and everyone in Troy.’

  So he spoke, and Deiphobus’ heart was torn whether to retreat and call on one of his great-hearted compatriots for support, or to see what he could do alone. Deciding that he had better look for help, he went after Aeneas and found him standing idle (460) behind the lines: Aeneas always bore godlike Priam a grudge because Priam gave him such little respect, though he was as good a man as any. Deiphobus went up to him and spoke winged words:

  ‘Aeneas, adviser of the Trojans, you’re badly needed for the rescue of Alcathous, your brother-in-law. If you care for your family at all, come and help me save your sister’s husband, who lived in your house and looked after you as a child. The great spearman Idomeneus has just killed him.’

  Aeneas advances against Idomeneus

  So he spoke, and his words went straight to the heart of (470) Aeneas, who went after Idomeneus, fully intent on battle. But Idomeneus was not to be scared off like a little boy. He waited for him like some mountain boar, confident in his strength, who faces a crowd of huntsmen advancing on him in a lonely spot: his back bristles, his eyes flame like fire and he sharpens his tusks, eager to take on men and dogs – so the great spearman Idomeneus awaited the onslaught of Aeneas and gave no ground at all. But he did call for support, looking especially to Ascalaphus, Aphareus and Deipyrus as well as Meriones and Antilochus, (480) champions of the battle-cry. Calling on them, he spoke winged words:

  ‘Here, friends, help! I’m alone and in fear of an attack from swift-footed Aeneas, who is making for me now. He is a mighty killer in a fight; and he has the great advantage of youth. If our ages were matched as our courage is now, there would soon be a triumph for Aeneas or myself.’

  So Idomeneus spoke, and, united in their resolution, his companions all closed in and rallied round him, crouching behind sloped shields. But Aeneas, on his side, also called upon his (490) friends, looking for help to Deiphobus, Paris and godlike Agenor, his fellow leaders in the Trojan army. The troops backed him too, like sheep following the leader of the flock from the pasture to drink at a stream, delighting the shepherd. So Aeneas was pleased to see the body of men behind him.

  They now fought at close quarters over Alcathous’ body with their long spears, and the bronze armour rang intimidat-ingly on their chests as they aimed at each other across the (500) ranks. But there were two warriors, Aeneas and Idomeneus, equals of Ares, who surpassed all the rest in their desire to slice into each other’s flesh with their cruel spears.

  Oenomaus and Ascalaphus killed

  Aeneas threw at Idomeneus first. But Idomeneus was on the lookout and avoided his bronze spear, which flew by and hit the ground, quivering: it had leapt from his strong hand for nothing. Then Idomeneus threw. He hit Oenomaus full in the belly, smashing a plate in his armour, and his bowels gushed through. Oenomaus fell in the dust, clutching at the ground. Idomeneus dragged his long-shadowed spear out of the body but, overwhelmed as he was by (510) missiles, was unable to strip the man’s fine arms and armour from his shoulders. He was no longer quick enough to dash in and recover his own throw or avoid someone else’s; and being too slow on his feet to save his life by running, he fought where he stood and so kept death at bay.

  Now as he moved slowly off, Deiphobus, who continued to bear a grudge against him for his taunts, hurled his glittering spear at him. For the second time he missed Idomeneus; but the spear hit Ascalaphus, a son of Ares. The heavy weapon went (520) right through his shoulder, and he fell in the dust and clutched at the ground. But it was only later that his imperious father, deep-voiced Ares, heard that his son had fallen in the thick of the action. At the moment he was sitting high up on Olympus under the golden clouds, where he was detained by the plan of Zeus together with the rest of the immortal gods for whom the war was also out of bounds.

  Meriones wounds Deiphobus

  It was now over Ascalaphus that they fought each other at close quarters. Deiphobus had just torn the glittering helmet from his head when Meriones, equal of swift Ar
es, leapt in and struck his arm near the shoulder with a spear. The helmet with its heavy vizor dropped (530) from his hand and fell to the ground with a clang; and like a vulture Meriones swooped in again, withdrew the weighty spear from his arm and then retreated into his own contingent of warriors. Polites, Deiphobus’ brother, putting his arm round his waist, supported him out of the battle and brought him to his swift horses, who were waiting for him behind the fighting with their charioteer and his decorated chariot. They carried him off to the town, groaning heavily and racked with pain, blood pouring from the fresh wound in his arm.

  (540) (Death of Aphareus and Thoön) But the rest fought on, and the tumult of battle filled the air. Aeneas now charged in and with his sharp spear stabbed Aphareus, who was facing him, in the throat. The man’s head jerked backwards; he crumpled up under his shield and helmet, and heart-crushing death engulfed him. Meanwhile, Antilochus, seizing a moment when Thoön’s back was turned, leapt in and stabbed him. He sheared off the whole vein that runs up the back to the neck. Thoön dropped backwards in the dust, stretching his hands out (550) to his comrades-in-arms. Antilochus fell on him and began to strip him of his armour, but kept a sharp look-out, for the Trojans started coming up on every side. They stabbed at his broad and glittering shield, but they could not so much as scratch the smooth skin of Antilochus’ neck with their cruel spears. For this son of Nestor’s was protected by Poseidon the earthshaker, even under a hail of spears as fierce as this. Unable to shake off his enemies, Antilochus wheeled round to face them, now on this side, now on that. His spear was never still for a moment but shook as he brandished it, threatening to throw it at a distant opponent or lunge at close range.

  (560) Antilochus was just preparing to throw into the crowd when Adamas son of Asius, who had watched for the chance, leapt in and stabbed at the centre of his shield with his sharp spear. Sable-haired Poseidon denied it Antilochus’ life and blunted its force, with the result that half of it stuck in the shield like a charred stake, while the other half fell to the ground. Adamas retreated into his own contingent of warriors to avoid death.

  Adamas and Deipyrus killed

  But Meriones followed him as he withdrew and hit him with his spear between the navel and genitals, where death in battle comes most painfully to (570) wretched mortals. There the spear went home, and Adamas, collapsing, writhed round it, as a wild mountain bull twists about when herdsmen have caught and roped it and bring it in against its will. So the stricken fighter writhed, but not for long – only till the warrior Meriones came up and pulled the spear out of his flesh. Then darkness engulfed his eyes.

  Helenus then closed with Deipyrus and struck him on the temple with his big Thracian sword, slicing through his helmet-strap. The dislodged helmet fell to the ground and was picked (580) up by a Greek as it rolled among the fighters’ feet. Black night came down and engulfed Deipyrus’ eyes.

  Helenus is wounded by Menelaus

  Menelaus, master of the battle-cry, was distressed when he saw this and made for the warrior lord Helenus with a menacing shout, brandishing a sharp spear. Helenus drew his bow, and the two were ready to let fly at the same moment, one with a sharp spear, the other with an arrow from the string. Helenus struck Menelaus’ chest with his arrow on a plate of his body-armour, but it ricocheted off. As black beans or chickpeas on a broad threshing-floor leap (590) from the flat shovel with the whistling wind and the winnower’s force behind them, so the painful arrow ricocheted off Mene-laus’ body-armour and flew away into the distance. But Mene-laus, master of the battle-cry, struck Helenus on the hand in which he was holding his polished bow, and the bronze spear went clean through his hand into the bow. Helenus retreated into his own contingent of warriors to avoid death, with his hand hanging down at his side and dragging the ash spear along. The spear was withdrawn from his wound by great-hearted (600) Agenor, who bound up the hand with a sling made of twisted wool which his attendant was able to give him.

  Menelaus kills Peisander and abuses the Trojans

  Peisander now made straight for illustrious Mene-laus. It was an evil destiny that led him on this path, with death at the end of it, death, Menelaus, in the heat of battle with you. When the two men had come within range of each other, Menelaus missed – his spear swerved wide. Peisander stabbed the shield of illustrious Menelaus, but was unable to drive the spear through. The broad shield held it up, and the spear snapped at the socket. Peisander was delighted at the hit, scenting victory. But now Menelaus (610) drew his silver-riveted sword and charged him. Peisander from under his shield brought out a fine bronze axe with a long, smooth haft of olive-wood. They met; and Peisander hit the ridge of Menelaus’ helmet on the top, just below the horsehair plume. But Menelaus caught Peisander, as he charged at him, on the forehead above the base of the nose. The bones cracked and his eyes, all bloody, dropped in the dust at his feet. He doubled up and fell. Menelaus put his foot on his chest, stripped off his armour and spoke in triumph:

  (620) ’That’s how you’ll be retreating from the Greek ships, you insolent Trojans, always spoiling for a fight! Not that you are amateurs in other forms of abusive and shameful behaviour. Look at how you abused me, you dirty dogs, when you broke the laws of hospitality and defied the wrath of loud-thundering Zeus, protector of guests, who is going to bring Ilium tumbling down before long. You stole my wife and sailed away with her and much of my wealth for no reason at all, since you had been hospitably treated in her palace. And now you won’t be satisfied till you have sent our seafaring ships up in flames and slaugh (630) tered us. You’re spoiling for a fight, but one day you’ll be stopped.

  ‘Ah, Father Zeus, they say you are wiser than any man or god – and all this is your doing! You are so indulgent towards these Trojan bullies, who have a passion for evil and an insatiable desire for the din of battle, that great leveller. People tire of everything, even of sleep and love-making, of sweet music and the elegant dance. Everyone would far rather satisfy themselves with these things than war, but the Trojans are gluttons for it.’

  (640) With these words matchless Menelaus stripped the blood- stained armour from the body and gave it to his men. Then he went and engaged once more with the front ranks.

  Meriones kills Harpalion

  No sooner was he there than he was attacked by Harpalion, son of lord Pylaemenes, who had come with his father to the Trojan War, never to return to his own country again. Closing with Menelaus, Harpalion thrust at the centre of his shield with a spear; but being unable to drive the spear through, he retreated into his own contingent of warriors to avoid death, keeping a lookout on every (650) side for any missile that might come his way. As he withdrew, Meriones shot him with a bronze-headed arrow and hit him in the right buttock. The arrow went clean through his bladder and came out under the pubic bone. Harpalion collapsed at once, gasped out his life in the arms of his friends and lay stretched out on the ground like a dead worm, while the dark blood poured out of him and soaked the earth. Gathering round him, the great-hearted Paphlagonians lifted him into a chariot and with heavy hearts drove him to sacred Ilium. His weeping father went with them. There was no compensation for his son’s death.

  (660) (Paris kills Euchenor) But the slaughter of Harpalion roused Paris to anger, since this Paphlagonian had been his guest, and he shot an arrow in fury for his friend. There was a Greek called Euchenor, son of the prophet Polyidus, a man of substance and good birth who lived in Corinth. When he embarked for Troy, he knew well enough the grim fate that awaited him, since his old father, good Polyidus, had often told him he must either die in his bed of a painful disease or sail with the Greeks and be killed at Troy. So he went, avoiding the heavy forfeit the Greeks would have demanded for not serving, and (670) saving himself from hateful illness and the pain he did not wish to bear. Paris now hit him with his arrow under the jaw and ear. Life left his limbs at once, and hateful darkness engulfed him.

  So they fought on like blazing fire. But Hector dear to Zeus, who had not been k
ept informed, had no idea that on the left of the ships his troops were being slaughtered by the Greeks. Indeed, the Greeks came close to winning, so effectively did Poseidon, the earthshaker who encircles the world, inspire them, besides putting his own efforts into their defence. So Hector was still on the attack in that part of the front where he had first (680) broken the shield-bearing Greek ranks and stormed the gate and wall, and where the ships of Ajax son of Oïleus and Protesi-laus were drawn up on the shore of the grey sea. There the protecting wall had been lower than elsewhere, and the Greek infantry and chariots were putting up the fiercest defence.

  Greek gate defended against Hector

  The troops at this point, the Boeotians, the Ionians with their long tunics, the Locrians, Phthians and splendid Eleans, had the utmost difficulty in holding off godlike Hector’s attack on the ships and were quite unable to thrust him back: he came at them like fire. (690) Picked men from Athens were fighting here, led by Menestheus, supported by Pheides, Stichius and brave Bias; while the Eleans were commanded by Meges, Amphion and Dracius; and the Phthians by Medon and resolute Podarces. One of these, Medon, was a bastard son of godlike Oïleus and so a brother of Ajax. But he had been exiled for homicide and lived in Phylace, having killed a kinsman of his step-mother Eriopis, the wife of Oïleus. Podarces, the other, was a son of Iphiclus the son of Phylacus. These two in their full armour were fighting to defend (700) the ships in front of the Phthians and side by side with the Boeotians.

  Ajax swift son of Oïleus was never separated even for a moment from Ajax son of Telamon. As a pair of dark-faced oxen strain at the jointed plough in fallow ground, each as hard as the other; with the sweat pouring out at the base of their horns and separated only by their polished yoke, they press on down the furrow till they reach the turning point at the end of the field – so these stood alongside each other, cheek by jowl. (710) The son of Telamon was backed by a fine, strong body of men who relieved him of his shield when he was overcome by the heat and fatigue; but the great-hearted son of Oïleus was not accompanied by his Locrian troops, who had no stomach for the standing fight since they did not possess appropriate arms -bronze helmets with crests, rounded shields and ash spears. They relied on bows and slings of well-twisted wool. It was with these weapons that they had followed their leader to Ilium and after their arrival used them extensively to break through the Trojan ranks. So now, while the troops in their ornate armour (720) engaged the Trojans and bronze-clad Hector in the front line, the Locrians kept shooting at them from well out of sight in the rear. The Trojans, thrown into confusion by the arrows, began to lose their will to fight.