The Iliad (Penguin Classics) Page 41
So he spoke in prayer, and Phoebus Apollo heard him and at once relieved the pain, dried up the dark blood from the ugly wound and filled him with fresh energy. Glaucus realized what (530) had happened and rejoiced that the great god had responded so quickly to his prayer. He went at once to all the Lycian leaders everywhere and urged them to rally round Sarpedon. Then he went striding off to find some Trojans also, Polydamas and godlike Agenor, Aeneas and bronze-armoured Hector. He went up to them and spoke winged words:
‘Hector, you have completely forgotten your allies, who are giving their lives for you far from their dear ones and the land (540) of their fathers. You show no eagerness to help them. Sarpedon, leader of the shield-bearing Lycian, lies dead. He was the upright and strong defender of the Lycian realm, and now the bronze-clad War-god Ares has cut him down under Patroclus’ spear. Make a stand by him, my friends. Think of the shame of it, if the Myrmidons, angry for the many Greeks who fell to our spears beside their swift ships, should take Sarpedon’s arms and desecrate his body.’
So he spoke, and the Trojans could not contain their overwhelming, inconsolable grief, since Sarpedon, though a (550) foreigner, had been a mainstay of their town and the finest warrior among the many he had brought with him. Eager to avenge him, they made straight for the Greeks with Hector in the forefront, infuriated by Sarpedon’s death.
Meanwhile manly Patroclus spurred on the Greeks. First he spoke to the Ajaxes, both already intent on combat:
‘You two Ajaxes, now make it your mission to fight off the enemy like the men you have always been, or even better. Sarpedon lies dead. He was the first man to storm the Greek (560) wall. Let’s see if we can capture and mangle his body, strip the armour from his back and at the same time slaughter some of the friends who will protect him.’
So he spoke, and they were already spoiling for the fight. And now, when the two forces, Trojans and Lycians on the one side, Greeks and Myrmidons on the other, had strengthened their ranks, they joined battle over the fallen Sarpedon with terrifying cries. The armour on men’s bodies rang aloud, and Zeus eclipsed the field of battle in dreadful night to make the struggle over his dear son all the more murderous.
Epeigeus and Sthenelaus killed
At first the Trojans were able to repel the dark-eyed Greeks, (570) who lost one of the best men in the Myrmidon force, godlike Epeigeus. He had at one time been ruler of prosperous Budeion but, having killed a brave relative, he took sanctuary with Peleus and his wife silver-footed Thetis, who sent him to Ilium land of horses in the company of Achilles, breaker of men, to fight the Trojans. Epeigeus had just laid his hands on Sarpedon’s body when glorious Hector hurled a rock which struck him on the head. Inside the heavy helmet his skull was split in two; he fell face (580) down across the body, and heart-crushing death engulfed him.
Patroclus, distressed at his comrade’s loss, raced through the front line like a swift falcon when it scatters the jackdaws and the starlings. That was how you, charioteer Patroclus, flew at the Lycians and Trojans, in fury at the death of your friend. Patroclus threw a boulder at the neck of Sthenelaus and smashed the tendons. The Trojan front line and glorious Hector himself fell back before his onslaught. As far as a man throws a long, (590) light spear when he is doing his best in the games or in battle against an enemy thirsting for his blood, so far did the Trojans withdraw and the Greeks press forward.
Bathycles and Laogonus killed
Glaucus, leader of the shield-bearing Lycians, was the first to halt. He turned and killed great-hearted Bathycles, who lived in Hellas and stood out as one of the most prosperous of the Myrmidons. Bathycles was about to catch him up when Glaucus suddenly turned on his pursuer and stabbed him with his spear in the middle of the chest. He thudded to the ground. The loss of this brave man (600) was a heavy blow to the Greeks; but the Trojans were delighted and massed in numbers round Glaucus.
The Greeks, however, had lost none of their fight and still bore energetically down on the enemy. It was now the turn of Meriones to kill a Trojan man-at-arms, daring Laogonus who was priest of Idaean Zeus and was honoured by the people like a god. Meriones struck him under the jaw and ear. Life swiftly left his limbs, and hateful darkness engulfed him.
Aeneas then hurled a spear at Meriones, hoping to catch him (610) as he strode forward under cover of his shield. But Meriones was on the look-out and avoided the bronze spear. He ducked under it, and the long shaft stuck in the ground behind him, its butt-end quivering till the imperious War-god Ares took away its force. Aeneas was enraged and said:
‘Meriones, you may be a fine dancer, but my spear would have stopped you for good and all, if only I’d hit you.’
(620) The famous spearman Meriones said:
Aeneas and Meriones exchange taunts
‘Aeneas, powerful though you are, it would be difficult for you to extinguish the fire of everyone you met in action. You are made of mortal stuff like the rest of us, and if I caught you in the belly with a sharp spear, you would, for all your strength and confidence, immediately yield the glory to me and your life to the god Hades, famed for his horses.’
So he spoke, and Patroclus, brave son of Menoetius, reproved him:
‘Meriones, you’re too fine a warrior to spend your time making speeches. Believe me, old friend, the Trojans are not going to be pushed back from Sarpedon’s body by a few insults; (630) the earth will cover many a man first. Battles are won by deeds; the council-chamber is the place for words. This is no time to talk, but to fight.’
With these words he led the way and godlike Meriones went with him. Like the crashing that rises from woodcutters at work in a mountain glade, and the noise is heard a long way off, so from the broad earth there rose the thud of bronze, leather and well-made shields as men stabbed at each other with swords and curved spears. Even the sharpest eye would never have (640) recognized godlike Sarpedon, enveloped as he was from head to foot in weapons, blood and dust. Men swarmed round his body as flies in a sheepfold buzz round the brimming pails in spring-time when the vessels overflow with milk.
So they swarmed round the body and, as they did so, Zeus never shifted his shining eyes from the thick of battle but kept them always fixed on the men, thinking to himself about the killing of Patroclus. He was in two minds whether to let him fall to glorious Hector’s spear in the thick of the action over (650) godlike Sarpedon and let Hector strip the armour from his shoulders, or whether to allow Patroclus to bring still more of his enemies to grief. In the end Zeus decided the best thing was for Patroclus, Achilles’ fine attendant, to drive the Trojans and bronze-armoured Hector back towards the town, taking many lives.
ZEUS turns Hector to flight
So Zeus made a coward of Hector. He leapt into his chariot and wheeled it round for flight, shouting to the other Trojans to take to their heels – he knew Zeus had tipped the sacred scales against him. At that, not even the mighty Lycians stood their ground; they (660) fled one and all. They had seen their own lord hit in the heart and lying where the dead were heaped. For in the fierce conflict Zeus had staged, many a man had been killed over Sarpedon’s body.
So the Greeks stripped the gleaming bronze armour from Sarpedon’s shoulders. Brave Patroclus son of Menoetius handed it to his men and told them to take it to the hollow ships. Then Zeus who marshals the clouds addressed Apollo:
APOLLO to save Sarpedon’s body
’Quick, dear Phoebus, go and take Sarpedon out of range and, when you have wiped the dark blood off, carry him to some distant spot and wash him in running water, anoint him with ambrosia and wrap (670) him in an immortal robe. Then send him to be borne away by Sleep and his twin-brother Death, those swift attendants, who will quickly set him down in broad Lycia’s fertile realm where his relatives and retainers will give him burial with a grave-mound and monument – the honour that is due to the dead.’
So he spoke, and Apollo did not turn a deaf ear, but descended from the mountains of Ida into the mayhem of the fight. At once he too
k godlike Sarpedon out of range and, carrying him to some distant spot, washed him in running water, anointed him (680) with ambrosia and wrapped him in an immortal robe. Then he sent him to be borne away by Sleep and his twin-brother Death, those swift attendants, who quickly set him down in broad Lycia’s fertile realm.
Patroclus, with a shout to his charioteer Automedon, went in pursuit of the Trojans and Lycians. He was completely deluded, the blind fool. Had he kept to his orders from Achilles, he would have saved himself from the evil destiny which is dark death. But the will of Zeus always prevails over men. Zeus can easily make a brave man run away and lose a battle, but at another (690) time that very same god will urge him on to fight. Now he put heart into Patroclus.
Who was the first man, who the last, to fall to you, Patroclus, as the gods summoned you to your death? Adrestus first, and Autonous and Echeclus; Perimus, Epistor and Melanippus; and then Elasus and Mulius and Pylartes. All these Patroclus killed, though the rest of them had had the sense to run. He was raging so unstoppably with his spear that the Trojans’ city with its high (700) gates would now have fallen to the Greeks under Patroclus if Phoebus Apollo had not taken his stand on the well-built tower with death in mind for Patroclus and salvation for the Trojans. Three times Patroclus scaled an angle of the high wall and three times Apollo hurled him off, thrusting back his glittering shield with his immortal hands. But when he came on like something superhuman for the fourth time, the god gave a terrible shout and spoke winged words:
APOLLO warns Patroclus
’Back, Olympian-born Patroclus! The town of the proud Trojans is not destined to be captured by your spear nor even by Achilles, who is a far better man than you.’
(710) So he spoke, and Patroclus retreated a good way back to avoid the wrath of the Archer-god Apollo.
Hector had pulled up his horses at the Scaean gate. There he debated whether to drive into the mêlée once more and fight, or to order all his men to withdraw into the town. He was still in two minds when Phoebus Apollo appeared beside him, resembling vigorous and powerful Asius, horse-taming Hector’s uncle (Asius was a brother of Hecabe and a son of Dymas who lived in Phrygia on the banks of the River Sangarius) . In this (720) disguise Apollo son of Zeus said:
‘Hector, why have you stopped fighting and neglected your duty? I wish I were as much your better as you are mine! Then you would soon regret your withdrawal from battle. Off with you now and set your powerful horses at Patroclus. You could catch him yet, and Apollo grant you the victory.’
Hector launched at Patroclus
With these words the god went back into the battling crowd, and glorious Hector told warlike Cebriones to lash his horses into the fight. Apollo, merging with the throng, created terrible mayhem (730) among the Greeks and gave the upper hand to Hector and the Trojans. But Hector ignored the rest of the Greeks and, killing none of them, drove his powerful horses straight at Patroclus. Patroclus on his side leapt from his chariot to the ground with his spear in his left hand.
Patroclus kills Cebriones
With the other he picked up a jagged, sparkling stone – his hand just covered it – and, refusing to retreat before Hector, threw it with all his force. He did not throw in vain: the sharp stone caught Hector’s charioteer Cebriones, famous Priam’s illegitimate son, on the forehead, (740) with the horses’ reins still in his hands. It shattered both his eyebrows, crushing the bone; and his eyes fell out and rolled in the dust at his feet. He fell back out of the well-built chariot like a diver, and life left his bones. Mocking him, charioteer Patroclus, you said:
‘Well, well! How light on his toes, judging by that acrobatic somersault! Now, if the delightful dive he has taken from the chariot on to the plain is anything to go by, he’d satisfy the hunger of lots of people by doing the same at sea. Even in the roughest weather he could leap off a boat and grope about for (750) molluscs. I never knew the Trojans had such acrobats!’
With these words he advanced to claim the body of the warrior Cebriones, springing like a lion that has been wounded in the chest while assaulting the folds, and his courage is the death of him. With such determination, Patroclus, did you hurl yourself at Cebriones.
Hector on the other side leapt from his chariot to the ground, and the two fought for Cebriones like a pair of lions on the mountain heights, each as hungry and fearless as the other, disputing the dead body of a stag. So, with the body of Cebriones (760) between them, these two champions of the battle-cry, Patroclus and glorious Hector, longed to hack into each other’s flesh with their cruel spears. Hector got hold of Cebriones’ head and never once let go; Patroclus, at his end, clung to a foot; and the rest of the Trojans and Greeks joined in the fierce confrontation.
Like the east and south winds tussling with one another in a mountain glen, setting the dense wood heaving, beech and ash and smooth-barked cornel: their long boughs lash each other (770) with a terrifying sound, and the branches snap noisily – so the Trojans and Greeks leapt at one another and destroyed. There was no thought of fatal flight on either side. The ground where Cebriones fell was peppered with sharp spears and feathered arrows that had leapt from the bowstring; huge rocks struck shields and sent staggering those that fought about him. And there great Cebriones lay, in a swirl of dust, great even in his fall, his charioteering days forgotten.
While the sun was high in the sky, volley and counter-volley found their mark and men kept falling. But when the sun began to drop – towards the time when the ploughman unyokes his ox (780) – the Greeks got the upper hand in defiance of destiny. They dragged the warrior Cebriones out from among the weapons and the yelling Trojans, and stripped the armour from his back.
APOLLO assaults Patroclus
But Patroclus, with murder in his heart, leapt on the enemy. Three times he charged with an intimidating yell, like impetuous Ares, and three times he killed nine men. But when he leapt in like something superhuman for the fourth time, then, Patroclus, the end was in sight. In the heat of the battle, Phoebus encountered you, Phoebus most terrible.
Patroclus had not seen him coming through the mayhem; (790) the god had wrapped himself in a thick mist for this meet- ing. He stood behind Patroclus now and, striking his back and broad shoulders with the flat of his hand, he made Patroclus’ eyes spin and knocked the helmet off his head. With its heavy vizor it rolled clattering away under the horses’ hooves, and its plume was defiled with blood and dust. It had not been allowed to defile that crested helmet in the dust before, when it protected the head and handsome face of godlike Achilles. But now (800) Zeus granted it to Hector to wear, since he was very close to death. The long-shadowed spear, huge, thick and heavy with its head of bronze, was shattered in Patroclus’ hands. The fringed shield with its strap fell from his shoulder to the ground; and lord Apollo son of Zeus undid the body-armour on his chest.
A fatal blindness overtook Patroclus. His shining limbs were paralysed; and as he stood there in a daze, a Dardanian called Euphorbus, son of Panthous, came up behind him at close range, threw a sharp spear and hit him in the middle of the back between the shoulders. This Euphorbus was the best spearman, runner and horseman of his years and in this very battle (the first he had fought as a charioteer learning the art of war) he (810) had already brought twenty men from their chariots to the ground. He was the first, then, to let fly at you, charioteer Patroclus. But he did not kill you. After pulling out the ash spear from his flesh, he ran back and mingled with the crowd. He did not stay to fight Patroclus, defenceless though he was.
(830) And now, overcome by the god’s blow and Euphorbus’ spear, Patroclus began to retreat into his own contingent of warriors to avoid death. When Hector saw great-hearted Patroclus (820) wounded and in retreat, he made his way towards him through the ranks and, coming up, stabbed him with his spear in the lower belly, driving the bronze clean through. Patroclus thudded to the ground, throwing the whole Greek army into consternation. As a lion’s will to fight overpowers an indomitable wild boar when the
fearless pair battle it out in the mountains over a little stream; both wish to drink there, but the lion’s strength prevails and his panting enemy is overcome – so, after killing many men himself, Menoetius’ strong son fell to a close-range thrust from Hector, who now spoke to him in triumph with winged words:
Patroclus’ death (15.65, 8.476)
’Patroclus, you probably thought you’d sack our town, make Trojan women slaves and ship them off to the land of your fathers. You innocent! In their defence, Hector’s swift horses were racing into battle – I, Hector, finest spearman of the war-loving Trojans, who stand between them and the day of slavery. As for you, vultures are going to eat you on this very spot. Miserable wretch! Even great Achilles did not save you. I can imagine all the instructions he gave you on your way out, while he stayed behind: ‘‘Charioteer Patroclus, don’t come back to the hollow (840) ships till you have ripped through the tunic on man-slaying Hector’s chest and soaked it with his blood.’’ That, I imagine, is what he must have said; and like an idiot you took him at his word.’
Fading fast you replied, charioteer Patroclus:
‘Hector, boast loud and long while you can. Zeus and Apollo handed you that victory. They conquered me. It was an easy task: they took the armour from my back. If twenty men like you had confronted me, they would all have fallen to my spear. No: it was deadly destiny and Leto’s son Apollo that (850) did for me. Then came a man, Euphorbus; you are the third of them all to kill me. But I will tell you something else, and you bear it in mind. You too, I swear it, have not long to live. Already you stand in the shadow of death and inexorable destiny, slaughtered at the hands of Achilles, the matchless son of Peleus.’