Homer
Translated by Martin Hammond, 1987
Hector’s parents, Priam, King of Troy, and Hecuba, have tried to dissuade him from meeting Achilles (Achilleus) in combat. Hector (Hektor) feels he has no choice. For Achilles, too, the decision to fight Hector in a duel is fraught. He knows from his mother, a nymph named Thetis, that his own death is sure to follow that of Hector. Achilles’ father, Peleus, was only mortal. This passage comes from the twenty-second of the twenty-four books of Homer’s Iliad but is very much the dramatic finale of the poem. It contains some of the most beautiful similes in the epic. It begins with Hector criticising himself for Troy’s ill fortunes and his failure to heed the advice of his friend Poulydamas, who favoured caution over direct attack. Hector shoulders far too much of the blame. If any man is guilty of ‘arrant folly’ it is his brother Paris (‘Alexandros’) who ran off with Helen in the first place.
But he spoke in dismay to his own great heart: ‘What am I to do? If I go back inside the gates and the wall, Poulydamas will be the first to lay blame on me, because he urged me to lead the Trojans back to the city during this last fatal night, when godlike Achilleus had roused himself. But I did not take his advice – it would have been far better if I had. Now that I have destroyed my people through my own arrant folly, I feel shame before the men of Troy and the women of Troy with their trailing dresses, that some man, a worse man than I, will say: “Hektor trusted in his own strength and destroyed his people.” That is what they will say: and then it would be far better for me to face Achilleus and either kill him and return home, or die a glorious death myself in front of my city. But suppose I put down my bossed shield and heavy helmet, and lean my spear against the wall, and go out as I am to meet the excellent Achilleus, and promise to return Helen and all her property with her to the sons of Atreus for their keeping, all that Alexandros brought away in his hollow ships to Troy and was the first cause of our quarrel: and also to share equally with the Achaians all the rest of the property stored in this city – then afterwards I could make the Trojans take an oath in their council that they will hide nothing, but divide everything in two parts, all the possessions that the lovely city contains within it. But what need for this debate in my heart? I fear that if I go up to him he will not show me any pity or regard for my appeal, but will simply kill me unarmed like a woman, when I have taken off my armour. There can be no sweet murmuring with him now, like boy and girl at the trysting-tree or rock, the way a boy and girl murmur sweetly together. Better to close and fight as soon as can be. We can see then to which of us the Olympian is giving the victory.’
Such were his thoughts as he waited. And Achilleus came close on him like Enyalios the god of war, the warrior with the flashing helmet, shaking his terrible spear of Pelian ash over his right shoulder: and the bronze on his body shone, like the light of a blazing fire or the sun when it rises. And trembling took hold of Hektor when he saw him. Now he no longer had the courage to stand his ground where he was, but he left the gates behind him and ran in terror: and the son of Peleus leapt after him, confident in the speed of his legs. As a hawk in the mountains, quickest of all flying things, swoops after a trembling dove with ease: she flies in terror before him, but he keeps close behind her, screaming loud, and lunging for her time after time as his heart urges him to kill. So Achilleus flew straight for Hektor in full fury, and Hektor fled away from him under the walls of Troy, setting his legs running fast. They sped past the look-out place and the wind-tossed fig-tree, keeping all the time to the wagon-track a little way out from the wall, and came to the two well-heads of lovely water: here the twin springs of swirling Skamandros shoot up from the ground. One spring runs with warm water, and steam rises all round it as if a fire were burning there. But the other even in summer flows out cold as hail, or frozen snow, or water turned to ice. There close beside these springs are the fine broad washing-troughs made of stone, where the Trojans’ wives and their lovely daughters used to wash their bright clothes, in earlier times, in peace, before the sons of the Achaians came. The two men ran past here, one in flight, the other chasing him. A brave man was running in front, but a far greater one was in pursuit, and they ran at speed, since it was no sacrificial beast or ox-hide shield they were competing for – such as are the usual prizes that men win in the foot-race – but they were running for the life of Hektor the tamer of horses. As when champion strong-footed horses wheel round the turning-posts running at full stretch, when a great prize is there to be won, a tripod or a woman, in the funeral games for a man who has died: so those two raced round the city of Priam, circling it three times with all the speed of their legs, and all the gods looked on. The father of men and gods was the first of them to speak: ‘Oh, I love this man who is being pursued around the wall under the gaze of my eyes. My heart is saddened for Hektor, who has burned the thigh-bones of many oxen to me on the peaks of valleyed Ida, and again on the city’s height. But now godlike Achilleus on his swift feet is chasing him round the city of Priam. Well then, give thought to it, gods, and consider whether we shall save him from death, or bring him down now, for all his bravery, at the hands of Achilleus son of Peleus.’
Then the bright-eyed goddess Athene said to him: ‘Father, master of the bright lightning and the dark clouds, what is this you are saying? Do you intend to take a man who is mortal and long ago doomed by fate, and release him from grim death? Do it then – but we other gods will not all approve you.’
Then Zeus the cloud-gatherer answered her: ‘Do not worry, Tritogeneia, dear child. I do not speak with my heart in full earnest, and my intention to you is kind. Do as your purpose directs, and do not hold back any longer.’
With these words he urged on Athene what she herself already desired, and she went darting down from the peaks of Olympos. And swift Achilleus kept driving Hektor on with his relentless pursuit. As when a dog has started the fawn of a deer from its lair in the mountains, and chases it on through the hollows and the glens: even if it takes to cover and crouches hidden under a bush, the dog smells out its track and runs on unerringly until he finds it. So Hektor could not throw off the swift-footed son of Peleus. Whenever he tried to make a dash for the Dardanian gates, to get under the well-built walls and give the men above a chance of defending him with their weapons, every time Achilleus would be there in time to block his way and head him back out towards the plain, while he himself kept always on the city side as he flew onwards. As a man in a dream is unable to pursue someone trying to escape, and the other cannot run away just as he cannot give chase: so Achilleus could not catch him with his running, nor Hektor get away. And how could Hektor have kept clear of the fates of death, if Apollo had not come close to him for the last and final time, and spurred strength in him and speed to his legs? And godlike Achilleus had been shaking his head at his own people to stop them shooting their bitter arrows at Hektor, in case one of them should win the glory with a hit, and he himself reach Hektor too late. But when they came round to the well-heads for the fourth time, then the Father opened out his golden scales. In the pans he put two fates of death’s long sorrow, one for Achilleus and one for Hektor the tamer of horses, and he took the scales in the middle and lifted them up: and Hektor’s day of doom sank down, away into Hades, and Phoibos Apollo left him. Then the bright-eyed goddess Athene came to the son of Peleus, and stood close by him and spoke winged words to him: ‘Now, glorious Achilleus loved of Zeus, now I think that we two will bring great glory for the Achaians back to the ships – we will kill Hektor, for all his lust for battle. There is no possibility now that he can escape us any longer, even if Apollo the far-worker goes through agonies of grovelling before father Zeus who holds the aegis. So you stand still now and get your breath, while I go and persuade him to fight with you face to face.’
So Athene spoke, and Achilleus was happy at heart, and did as she told him: so he stood there leaning on his bronze-barbed ash spear. She then left him and caught up with godlike Hektor, taking the form and tireless voice of Deïphobos. She came close and spoke winged words to him: ‘Brother, swift Achilleus is pressing you very hard now, chasing you round the city of Priam with all his speed. Come then, let us face him together and beat him off where we stand.’
Then great Hektor of the glinting helmet said to her: ‘Deïphobos, you have always been the brother I loved far the most of all the sons born to Hekabe and Priam. And now my heart is minded to honour you yet more highly, since you have had the courage, when your eyes saw my trouble, to come outside the wall on my account, while all the others stay inside.’
Then the bright-eyed goddess Athene said to him: ‘Brother, our father and honoured mother, and my friends around me, did indeed beseech me one after the other, and implored me again and again to stay where I was inside – such is the terror on them all. But my heart within me was chafed with painful sorrow for you. Now let us charge straight in and fight, and not be sparing with our spears, so we can see whether Achilleus will kill us both and carry away our bloody spoils to the hollow ships, or else be beaten down under your spear.’
So speaking Athene led him forward in her treachery. When the two men had advanced to close range, great Hektor of the glinting helmet was first to speak: ‘Son of Peleus, I shall not run from you any more, as I did when you chased me three times round the great city of Priam, and I did not dare to stop and take your attack. But now my heart prompts me to stand and face you – I shall kill or be killed. But first let us swear here before our gods – they will be the best witnesses to keep watch on our agreement. I swear that I will inflict no outrage on you, if Zeus grants me the endurance and I take away your life: but after I have stripped you of your famous armour, Achilleus, I will give your body back to the Achaians – and you do the same.’
Then swift-footed Achilleus scowled at him and said: ‘Hektor, do not talk to me of agreements, you madman. There are no treaties of trust between lions and men: wolves and lambs share no unity of heart, but are fixed in hatred of each other for all time – so there can be no friendship for you and me, there will be no oaths between us, before one or the other falls and gives his glut of blood to Ares, the fighter with the bull’s-hide shield. Call to mind now all your fighting skills: now is the time above all to show yourself a spearman and a brave warrior. But I tell you there is no escape for you any longer, but soon Pallas Athene will beat you down under my spear. And now you will make me lump payment for the pain of my companions’ deaths, all those you killed when your spear was raging.’
So he spoke, and steadying his long-shadowed spear he let it fly. But glorious Hektor had looked ahead and avoided it. He watched it come and crouched down, and the bronze spear flew over him and fixed in the earth: and unseen by Hektor, shepherd of the people, Pallas Athene pulled up the spear and gave it back to Achilleus. Hektor then spoke to the excellent son of Peleus: ‘You missed! So, godlike Achilleus, it seems you knew nothing from Zeus about my death – and yet you said you did. No, you turn out a mere ranter – all your talk is bluff, to frighten me and make me lose my courage for the fight. Well, I shall not run and let you fix your spear in my back, but you must drive it through my chest as I charge straight for you, if that is what god has granted you. But now you try to avoid this bronze spear of mine – how I hope you take it entire in your flesh! Then the war would go lighter for the Trojans, with you dead, their greatest danger.’
So he spoke, and steadying his long-shadowed spear he let it fly, and did not miss, hitting in the centre of the son of Peleus’ shield: but the spear rebounded far from the shield. Hektor was angered that his swift spear had flown wasted from his hand, and stood there in dismay, as he had no second ash spear. He called in a great shout to Deïphobos of the white shield, and asked him for a long spear. But Deïphobos was not there near him. Then Hektor realised in his heart, and cried out: ‘Oh, for sure now the gods have called me to my death! I thought the hero Deïphobos was with me: but he is inside the wall, and Athene has tricked me. So now vile death is close on me, not far now any longer, and there is no escape. This must long have been the true pleasure of Zeus and Zeus’ son the far-shooter, and yet before now they readily defended me: but now this time my fate has caught me. Even so, let me not die ingloriously, without a fight, without some great deed done that future men will hear of.’
So speaking he drew the sharp sword that hung long and heavy at his side, gathered himself, and swooped like a high-flying eagle which darts down to the plain through the dark clouds to snatch up a baby lamb or a cowering hare. So Hektor swooped to attack, flourishing his sharp sword. And Achilleus charged against him, his heart filled with savage fury. In front of his chest he held the covering of his lovely decorated shield, and the bright four-bossed helmet nodded on his head, with the beautiful golden hairs that Hephaistos had set thick along the crest shimmering round it. Like the Evening Star on its path among the stars in the darkness of the night, the loveliest star set in the sky, such was the light gleaming from the point of the sharp spear Achilleus held quivering in his right hand, as he purposed death for godlike Hektor, looking over his fine body to find the most vulnerable place. All the rest of his body was covered by his bronze armour, the fine armour he had stripped from mighty Patroklos when he killed him. But flesh showed where the collar-bones hold the join of neck and shoulders, at the gullet, where a man’s life is most quickly destroyed. Godlike Achilleus drove in there with his spear as Hektor charged him, and the point went right through his soft neck: but the ash spear with its weight of bronze did not cut the windpipe, so that Hektor could still speak and answer Achilleus. He crashed in the dust, and godlike Achilleus triumphed over him: ‘Hektor, doubtless as you killed Patroklos you thought you would be safe, and you had no fear of me, as I was far away. You fool – behind him there was I left to avenge him, a far greater man than he, waiting there by the hollow ships, and I have collapsed your strength. Now the dogs and birds will maul you hideously, while the Achaians will give Patroklos full burial.’
Then with the strength low in him Hektor of the glinting helmet answered: ‘I beseech you by your life and knees and by your parents, do not let the dogs of the Achaian camp eat me by the ships, but take the ransom of bronze and gold in plenty that my father and honoured mother will offer you, and give my body back to my home, so that the Trojans and the wives of the Trojans can give me in death my due rite of burning.’
Then swift-footed Achilleus scowled at him and said: ‘Make me no appeals, you dog, by knees or parents. I wish I could eat you myself, that the fury in my heart would drive me to cut you in pieces and eat your flesh raw, for all that you have done to me. So no man is going to keep the dogs away from your head, not even if they bring here and weigh out ten times or twenty times your ransom, not even if Dardanian Priam offers to pay your own weight in gold. Not even so will your honoured mother lay you on the bier and mourn for you, her own child, but the dogs and birds will share you for their feast and leave nothing.’
Then, dying, Hektor of the glinting helmet said to him: ‘Yes, I can tell it – I know you well, and I had no chance of swaying you: your heart is like iron in your breast. But take care now, or I may bring the gods’ anger on you, on that day when for all your bravery Paris and Phoibos Apollo will destroy you at the Skaian gates.’