BOOK XIII

Fighting Among the Ships

Now when Zeus had sent Hector and many Trojans charging

Down on the ships, he left the two armies there

In the toil and tears of unceasing struggle, while he

Averted his shining eyes and looked far out

On the lands of the horse-handling Thracians, the close-fighting

Mysians,

The august Hippemolgi, drinkers of mares’ milk, and the Abii,

Justest of men. The Father no longer turned

His shining eyes toward Troy, for he had no hint

In his heart that any immortal would dare come down

To strengthen either the Trojan or Danaan forces.¹

But lordly Poseidon, shaker of shores, was not

For a moment unwatchful from where on the highest peak

Of well-wooded Samothrace^ak he sat rapt at the sight

Of raging battle, for from his position there

He could clearly see all Ida, the city of Priam,

And the ships of Achaeans. There he sat, after he

Had emerged from the sea, and he had compassion on all

The Achaeans now overcome by the Trojans, but against

Almighty Zeus he seethed with bitter resentment.

Soon he strode swiftly down the precipitous slope,

And the towering mountains and the trees of the forest trembled

Beneath the immortal feet of Poseidon. Quickly

He took three mighty strides, and with the fourth

He reached his goal at Aegae, where built in the depths

Of the sea he has his famous home, a palace

Golden and gleaming, enduring forever. Once there

He hitched to his car his brazen-hoofed horses, fast-flying

Steeds with manes of streaming gold. And the garments

He wore were of gold, as was the well-wrought whip

He held in his hand as he mounted the car and drove out

Over the waves. And the beasts that live in the sea^al

Came up from the depths on all sides and gambolled beneath him,

Acknowledging him as their King, and the sea itself,

Rejoicing, parted and made way before him. And the chariot’s

Axle was dry, as swiftly his far-bounding horses

Bore Poseidon toward the Achaean ships.

Midway between Tenedos and craggy Imbros

There is a huge cave in the depths of the sea, and here

The mighty creator of earthquakes pulled up and unharnessed

His horses and threw down before them ambrosial fodder

To munch on. Then he put hobbles of gold on their feet,

Hobbles that could not be broken or shaken loose,

That his pair might stay where they were until their master

Returned. Then off he went to the camp of Achaeans.

There the massed Trojans, like flame or hurricane wind,

Were rushing on with Priam’s son Hector, roaring

And screaming their war-cries, and hoping that they would soon take

The Achaean ships and kill all the bravest beside them.

But now Poseidon, embracer and shaker of earth,

Emerged from the brine, determined to urge on the Argives.

Taking the form and tireless voice of Calchas,

He spoke first of all to the two Ajaxes, who were

Already eager for action:

“If you two will only

Be mindful of might and not at all of chill fear,

You’ll save the Achaean army. Nowhere else

In the fight do I dread the powerful Trojans. Though many

Have scaled the great wall, the well-greaved Achaeans will hold them

All back. Only here am I really afraid of what

Might happen to us, here where yonder madman

Leads on like furious fire, Hector, who falsely

Claims Zeus as his father. But may some god inspire

You both to firmly stand your ground here and to bid

The others do likewise. Thus you may drive him back

From the fast-faring ships, no matter how eager he is,

And even though the mighty Olympian himself

Is urging him on.”

So saying, the kingly embracer

And shaker of shores touched both of them with his staff

And filled them with valorous heart, and their arms and legs

He made feel rested and light. Then he took off

Like a swift-winged hawk that rising hangs high in the sky

Above a tall thrust of rock before swooping over

The plain in pursuit of some other bird. Even so

Earthshaking Poseidon darted away. Quick Ajax,

Son of Oïleus, was first aware of the god,

And now he spoke thus to Ajax, son of Telamon:

“Ajax, one of the gods from Olympus, appearing

To us in the form of our prophet, tells us to fight

By the ships. For that was surely not Calchas, our seer

And reader of bird-signs. I glimpsed his feet and legs

As he left, and knew him at once for a god, since even

The gods are sometimes easily known. And now

The heart in my breast feels more than ever eager

For struggle and conflict, and now my feet below

And hands above are madly desirous of battle!”

Then Ajax, son of Telamon, answered him thus:

“Even so my own invincible hands are restlessly

Gripping my spear, my spirit is hot, and the feet

Beneath me are more than ready to charge. Right now

I would like nothing better than meeting in single combat

Priam’s son Hector, the always eager to fight.”

While the two Ajaxes were talking thus to each other,

Exulting in battle-joy that a god had put

In their hearts, earth-girdling Poseidon was in the rear

Arousing disheartened Achaeans, who there mid the swift-sailing

Ships were attempting to get back their courage. Their limbs

Were leaden from hours of fearful toil, and now

Their hearts were filled with terror at sight of the horde

Of Trojans that had already scaled the great wall.

As they saw these advancing, they wept in cringing despair,

But the mighty creator of earthquakes went easily in

Among them and set them on to form once again

Their stalwart battalions. He came first of all to Teucer

And Leïtus, with whom were the warriors Peneleos, Thoas,

And Deïpyrus, as well as Meriones and Antilochus, those masterful

Raisers of war-cry. To them he spoke these winged words:

“For shame, you Argives, acting like so many babies!

Your prowess, I thought, would save our ships from the Trojans.

But if now you cringe from miserable war, then surely

The day of defeat has dawned for the Argives. Who

Would believe it! this wonder before my eyes, this terrible

Thing I never imagined could happen—the Trojans

Charging our vessels! Why they have always been

Like timorous, panicky deer that fearfully wander

The woodland till they, unresisting and weak, fall prey

To jackals and panthers and wolves. So until now

The Trojans have had no slightest desire to stand

And face the spirit and might of Achaeans, not even

For one brief moment. But here they are now, far

From the city, waging their war at the hollow ships,

And this all because of our leader’s ignoble deed

And a pusillanimous people, who since they are striving

With him had rather die mid the fast-faring ships

Than fight to protect them. But even though the warlike

Son of Atreus, powerful King Agamemnon,

Is to blame for it all, he having insulted

The quick-footed son of Peleus, still we ourselves

Cannot afford to be shirkers in battle. Let us,

In fact, quickly make up for his evil. The hearts

Of heroes are able to heal. Nor can you excuse

Any longer your lack of furious valor, you

The Achaeans’ bravest and best. I wouldn’t quarrel

With some wretched fellow who couldn’t do any better,

But my heart seethes with blame at sight of you here.

O you slackers, soon you shall see what greater pain

Cowardice causes! But come, let each one of you

Fill his heart with shame and blame for himself,

For now the battle has grown to be truly tremendous.

Screaming Hector, mighty as ever, has smashed

His way through gate and long bars and carries his war

Right in toward the ships!”

So saying, earth-girdling Poseidon

Stirred the Achaeans to rally their powerful ranks

About the two Ajaxes, nor could host-urging Athena

Nor Ares himself have come among them and failed

To honor their might. For there picked men of the bravest

Awaited the charge of the Trojans and noble Hector,

Forming against them a spear-bristling wall. So close

The Achaeans stood to each other that shield pressed on shield,

Helmet on helmet, and man on man, so close

That the horsehair plumes on the bright-horned helmets

brushed

Each other with every nod of a head, and spears

Were crossed as brave hands brandished them forward. All minds

Were fixed on the battle, for which they were ready and eager.

Unswervingly on came the Trojans, massed and mighty

With Hector before them, great Hector plunging ahead

Like a ruthless, death-bearing boulder that bounds down the slope

Of a mountain when a wintry, rain-swollen river washes it

Loose with a flooding of water and sends it headlong

Bouncing and flying—high in the air it leaps

Through the echoing forest, crashing its way through all

Before it until it reaches the level plain,

Where at last it loses its force and rolls to a stop.²

So for a while Prince Hector ferociously threatened

To kill his way through to the sea past shelters and ships

Of Achaeans, but when that warrior came to collide

With the serried battalions, there his onslaught was halted.

The sons of Achaeans met him with thrusting swords

And double-barbed spears and made him reel and fall back,

Screaming thus to the army of fighters behind him:

“You Trojans and Lycians and dueling Dardanians, hold

With me here! This wall of Achaeans will not keep me back

For long. They’ll yield before my spear, believe me,

If truly the greatest of gods drives me on, the bolt-crashing

Husband of Hera!”

So Hector encouraged the Trojans,

And out strode his brother Deïphobus, holding his round shield

Before him and quickly advancing. But at him Meriones

Aimed a bright spear, nor did he miss his mark.

He struck the round shield, but instead of piercing the bull‘s-hide

The long shaft broke at the socket, as Deïphobus quickly

Held from him the bull’s-hide buckler, fearing the spear

Of fiery Meriones, who now shrank back in a crowd

Of his friends, frustrated and angry at breaking his spear

And failing to fell his man. Off he went

Past shelters and ships of Achaeans to fetch a long lance

He had left in his lodge.

But the others fought on with loud,

Unquenchable cries. And Teucer, Telamon’s son,

Was first to bring a man down, the spearman Imbrius,

Son of many-horsed Mentor. Before the sons

Of Achaeans came, Imbrius lived in Pedaeum

And had as his wife a bastard daughter of Priam,

Medesicasta. But when the Danaans came

In their swiftly maneuverable ships, he went back to Troy,

Where he was great mid the Trojans, and lived in the house

Of Priam, who honored him equally with his own children.

This was he whom Teucer jabbed under the ear

With a thrust of his lengthy javelin, then drew the point out.

And Imbrius fell like an ash that grows on top

Of a far-seen towering mountain till someone’s bronze

Brings it down and its fresh green foliage strikes earth. Even so

He fell, and about him rang his elaborate armor.

Then Teucer rushed eagerly forward to strip the man

Of his war-gear, but Hector met his advance with a cast

Of his glittering spear. But Teucer, looking straight at him,

Just managed to dodge the hurtling bronze, which embedded

Itself in the chest of charging Amphimachus, son

Of Actorian Cteatus. And Amphimachus crashed to the ground

With a clanging of brazen war-gear. Then Hector rushed out

To tear from the fallen Achaean his head-hugging helmet,

But Telamonian Ajax lunged with his spear

At the charging Hector, failing however to find

His flesh behind so much grim bronze. But he struck

The boss of his shield such a powerful blow that Hector

Reeled back from the corpses, and Achaeans bore both of

them off

The Athenian chieftains, Stichius and noble Menestheus,

Carried Amphimachus into the host of Achaeans,

While both Ajaxes, raging with furious fight,

Bore off the Trojan Imbrius. Just as two lions

Seize a goat from a pack of razor-fanged hounds

And carry it off through dense underbrush, holding it

High in their jaws, so now the two helmeted Ajaxes

Held Imbrius high and stripped off his bronze. Then Ajax,

Son of Oïleus, angry and grieved for Amphimachus,

Hacked the head from Imbrius’ tender neck

And sent it spinning away like a ball, to drop

In the dust at the feet of Hector.

The heart of Poseidon

Seethed with rage when his grandson Amphimachus fell

In the awesome encounter, and off he went by the shelters

And ships to stir up Achaeans and make still more trouble

For Trojans. And then he met spear-famous Idomeneus.

He had been with a comrade whose knee the keen bronze

Had recently wounded. His men had carried him in,

And Idomeneus, now that he had instructed the surgeons,

Was on his way to his lodge before going back

To the battle, for which he still was eager. Taking

The voice of Andraemon’s son Thoas, King of Aetolians

In Pleuron and sheer Calydon and honored by them

Like a god, lordly earth-shaking Poseidon spoke

To him thus:

“Idomeneus, counselor of Cretans, where now

Are the threats that sons of Achaeans used to hurl

At the Trojans?”

To which Idomeneus, leader of Cretans:

“So far as I know, 0 Thoas, no one of us

Is to blame. All of us here are experienced fighters,

And not a man of us shrinks from evil war

Because he is gripped by cowardly fear. I am forced

To believe that it must be the pleasure of Cronos’ son Zeus,

The high and the mighty, that we Achaeans should die here

Far from Argos, forever unsung and unknown.

But Thoas, you have consistently been a staunchly

Foe-fighting man and a splendid urger of others

Whenever you’ve seen men about to retreat. So do not

Give up now, but call your encouragement out

To every man you can.”

And Poseidon, shaker

Of shores, replied: “Idomeneus, never may he

Who willingly shrinks from this fight today return home

From Troy, but here may that man become the delight

Of ravenous dogs. But go, get your gear and come on.

Now we must hurry and do what we can together.

For there is a prowess in union even of weaklings,

And we two have what it takes to fight with the bravest.”

So saying, the great god rejoined the toiling men,

And Idomeneus went to his well-built lodge, put on

His exquisite armor, caught up a couple of spears,

And headed back for the field like a bolt of lightning

That Cronos’ son Zeus takes up in his hand and hurls

From gleaming Olympus, a far-seen bolt that dazzles

Across the sky as a fiery sign to mortals.

So flashed the bronze about the breast of Idomeneus

As he ran. But while he was still near his lodge,

He met his able comrade and squire Meriones

On his way to fetch a bronze-headed spear,³

And stalwart Idomeneus spoke to him, saying:

“Meriones,

Son of Molus, fast on your feet and the dearest

Of all my comrades, why do you come here now,

Leaving the fierce and fiery struggle? Can you

Be wounded, weak and in pain from the point of some arrow?

Or do you come after me with a message? No need,

Since I, at least, am already eager—to fight,

Not sit in my lodge!”

And Meriones, getting his drift:

“Idomeneus, counseling lord of bronze-armored Cretans,

I am on my way for a spear, if perhaps

You have one left in your lodge. Just now I shattered

The one I had on the shield of haughty Deïphobus.”

To which Idomeneus, King of the Cretans, replied:

“If spears are your wish, whether one or twenty, you’ll find them

Propped in my lodge against the bright entrance wall,

Spears I have taken from Trojans I’ve slain, since I

Do not care for fighting the foe at a distance. Hence

I have spears and bossed shields, helmets and flashing breastplates.”

Then gravely Meriones answered: “I too am supplied

With plenty of Trojan spoils, but they are all stored

In my lodge and black ship and none of them now are near.

For believe me, I too am not remiss in courage,

And when the battle-strife breaks out I always

Take my stand mid the very foremost men

In the hero-enhancing battle. Some other Achaean

Might very well be unaware of my prowess,

But surely, I think, you know me much better than that.”

And then Idomeneus, King of the Cretans, replied:

“What need is there for you to speak of these things?

I do indeed know how valiant a man you are,

As would be seen if now all the bravest of us

Were counted off by the ships for an ambush, wherein

A man’s valor is soonest discerned and the cowards set off

From the brave. For the coward’s face changes color, nor can

His spirit sustain him. He cannot keep still, but crouching

He nervously shifts his weight from foot to foot,

And his heart pounds hard as he broods on the imminent fates

Of death, and his teeth continue to chatter. But the brave man

Keeps his color, nor is he overly fearful

When once he has taken his place in the warriors’ ambush.

That man’s only prayer is quickly to clash

In the awesome flames of fight. Not, I say,

At the picking of such a party would any man scorn

Your courage or the might of your hands. And should you in toil

Of war be hit by arrow or spear, it would not

Be from behind, but as you were charging ahead

To dally a bit with the foremost you would receive

The bitter shaft in belly or breast. Come then,

Let us no longer loiter here nor talk

Any more like two little boys, or someone may lose

All patience with us. Go on to my lodge and get

A strong spear for yourself.”

He spoke, and Meriones, peer

Of the hurtling War-god, quickly took from the lodge

A bronze-pointed spear, and immensely eager for battle

Followed Idomeneus. As murdering Ares enters

A battle with Rout, his mighty and fearless son

Before whom even the bravest retreat—these two

Put on their armor and go out from Thrace to join

The Ephyri or the great-hearted Phlegyes, both of whose pleas

They never grant, but always give the glory

To one side or the other—even like that pair of gods

Did Meriones and Idomeneus, leaders of men, go forth

Into battle helmeted well in blazing bronze.

And now Meriones spoke to Idomeneus, saying:

“Son of Deucalion, where are you most inclined

To enter the battle? On the right of the host,

Straight up the center, or shall we go in on the left,

Where surely, I think, the long-haired Achaeans are failing

Most in the fight?”

And again Idomeneus, King

Of the Cretans, replied: “The ships in the center have others

To guard them, the two Aj axes and Teucer, the best

Of our bowmen and also good in hand-to-hand combat.

They will give Priam’s son Hector more than his fill

Of fighting, no matter how eager and mighty he is!

Hard indeed he will find it, rage as he will,

To master the spirit and dauntless strength of those men

And then set fire to the ships, unless great Zeus

Himself should hurl a blazing firebrand down

Among the swift vessels. For huge Telamonian Ajax

Will never yield to any mere mortal who eats

The grain of Demeter and can be quelled by cleaving

Bronze or a heavy rock. Not even before

Rank-smashing Achilles would Telamon’s son give way,

At least in hand-to-hand fighting, for no man can vie

With Achilles when it comes to swiftness of foot. But let us

Do as you have suggested and head for the host

On the left, that we may find out right away whether we

Shall win glory ourselves or give it now to another.”

He spoke, and Meriones, peer of the rapid War-god,

Led the way toward the left of the battle, where Idomeneus

Wanted to enter.

As soon as the Trojans sighted

Idomeneus, surging in like a flame, him

And his squire armored in ornate bronze, they shouted

One to another through the great melee and all charged

At him together, and now by the sterns of the ships

Loud strife and clashing arose. And as when gusts

Come many and fast on a day when shrill winds are blowing

And raising the thick dust on roads up into a swirling

Huge cloud, so now they clashed in one fierce throng,

Each man eager to use his sharp bronze on another.

And the man-wasting battle bristled with lengthy, flesh-rending

Spears, and eyes were blinded by the blazing of bronze

From gleaming helmets, new-burnished breastplates, and flashing,

Resplendent shields, as chaotically on the men came.

Hard-hearted indeed would that man have been who could

Have looked on that slaughter with joy instead of lament.

Thus two mighty sons of Cronos pitted their power

Against each other, creating horrible pain

For heroic mortals. Zeus wanted Hector and his side

To win—just enough to give glory to foot-swift Achilles,

For Zeus had no wish at all that the host of Achaeans

Should die there at Troy. He wanted only to glorify

Thetis along with her brave-hearted son. But Poseidon

Stole furtively forth from the gray salt-sea, and going

Among the Argives urged them on, for he

Was deeply indignant at Zeus and filled with resentment

Because he was helping the Trojans conquer the Argives.

Both gods came of one stock and lineage, though Zeus

Was the elder and richer in wisdom. Hence Poseidon

Would openly not aid the Argives, but furtively went

Through the host in the form of a man, seeking thus to arouse them.

Then each god took an end of strong strife’s rope

In that all-leveling and evil war, and between

Both armies they tugged on the taut, unbreakable bond

Till the knees of many a warrior loosened in death.

Now Idomeneus, although his hair was graying,

Called to the Danaan troops, and charging right into

The horde of Trojans he turned their advance to retreat.

For he killed one of their proudest allies, Othryoneus

Of Cabesus, a relative stranger in Troy,

Who had but recently followed the rumor of war

And come. This man had asked in marriage the loveliest

Daughter of Priam, Cassandra herself But instead

Of rich gifts of wooing, he had promised to do a great deed—

To drive the stubborn sons of Achaeans away

From the land of Troy. And the ancient Priam promised

To give him the girl, confirming his word with a nod

Of his head. Then trusting in this, Othryoneus fought

For the Trojans. But now Idomeneus aimed his bright spear

At him and caught him full in the belly as he

Came swaggering on, uselessly clad in a breastplate

Of bronze. He thudded to earth, and thus Idomeneus

Vauntingly mocked him:

“Othryoneus, my most hearty

Congratulations on your engagement to marry

Dardanian Priam’s daughter—that is if you really

Deliver all that you promised the man. We too,

You know, would promise as much as he did and keep

Our word exactly. We would, in fact, be delighted

To give you the loveliest daughter of King Agamemnon,

Bringing her here from Argos for you to make her

Your wife—if only you’d join up with us and sack

The populous city of Troy. But say, come now

With us to the seagoing ships that we may make terms

And arrange for the wedding. You’ll find us no churls when it comes

To the price for a bride.”

So taunting his victim, warlike

Idomeneus started to drag him off by the foot

Through the terrible struggle, but Asius came to help

His comrade Othryoneus. He came on foot in front of

His chariot, which his driver kept so close behind him

That always the horses’ breath was hot on his shoulders.

Asius came very eager to cut down Idomeneus,

Who, however, was too quick for him and hurled

His spear in at the throat just under the chin and drove

The bronze clean through, so that Asius fell as an oak

Or poplar or lofty pine falls when men in the mountains

Cut them down with keen axes to furnish timber

For ships. So now, in front of his horses and car,

The groaning Asius lay stretched out, clutching

At the bloody dust. And his driver, stricken with panic,

Lost his wits completely, nor did he dare

To turn back the horses and so escape the hands

Of the Argives. Then battle-staunch Antilochus, son

Of magnanimous Nestor, aimed at him with his spear

And hurled it hard through his middle, missing the useless

Breastplate of bronze and fixing it full in his belly.

Gasping he fell from the sturdy car, and Antilochus

Drove the horses away from the Trojans and into

The hands of well-greaved Achaeans.

Then Deïphobus,

Bitterly grieving for Asius dead, came up

Very close to Idomeneus and hurled his glittering spear.

But Idomeneus, looking straight at him, avoided the hurtling

Bronze, for he hid himself behind his round shield,

His buckler well wrought with bull’s-hide and flashing bronze

And fitted with two arm-rods. Behind it he crouched

While the spear flew over, stridently grazing the rim.

But not in vain did Deïphobus let the lance fly

From his powerful hand, for he struck Hippasus’ son,

The people’s shepherd Hypsenor, in the liver

Under the midriff, and immediately unstrung his knees.

And Deïphobus fiercely exulted, loudly boasting:

“Not unavenged, I think, good Asius lies.

Now he’ll be glad on his way to the house of Hades,

The strongest gate-guarder of all, for I have provided

A traveling companion for him!”

Such was his vaunt,

Which grieved the Argives and most of all aroused

The spirit of flame-hearted Antilochus. And he, in spite of

His sorrow, did not neglect his dear friend, but ran

And stood over him, using his shield as a cover.

Then two loyal comrades, Echius’ son Mecisteus

And noble Alastor, lifted Hypsenor and carried him,

Heavily groaning, back to the hollow ships.

But Idomeneus mightily raged with no pause at all,

Constantly eager to shroud some Trojan in blackness

Of night, or to go down himself in keeping off death

From the men of Achaea. The next man he killed was strong

Aesyetes’ god-nurtured son, heroic Alcathous.

He was a son-in-law of Anchises, married

To that lord’s eldest daughter, Hippodameia,

Whose father and lady mother at home in their hall

Had doted on her their darling, for she surpassed

All other girls her age in beauty, skill,

And good sense, and so the best man in the wide realm of Troy

Had made her his wife—the man whom lordly Poseidon

Now destroyed beneath the spear of Idomeneus.

For the god bewitched his bright eyes and so paralyzed

His powerful legs that Alcathous found it impossible

Either to run to the rear or dodge to one side.

But he was standing still as a pillar or high

Leafy tree when the raging Idomeneus thrust his spear

Deep into his chest, cleaving his coat of bronze

That had till then kept death away from his body,

But which now gave a dull clang as through it the spear cut.

And Alcathous thudded to earth with the spear fixed

In his heart, that beating yet caused the butt-end to quiver

Till finally hulking Ares stilled its fury.

And Idomeneus fiercely exulted, loudly boasting:

“I say, Deiphobus, you that saw fit to brag so,

Shall we now call it quits—three dead men

For one—or would you, mad sir, care to come on

And face me alone, that you may discover what manner

Of Zeus-sprung King has come here? For our line is

From Zeus, who first begot Minos to be the ruler

Of Crete, and Minos begot the flawless Deucalion,

Who then begot me, the King of many men

In broad Crete. And now my ships have brought me here

As a curse to you and your father King Priam, and to all

Of the other Trojans.”

Now Deïphobus could not decide

What to do, whether to go back and get some comrade

Of his, some great-souled Trojan to help him, or whether

To try it alone. But pondering gave him the answer—

Namely, to go for Aeneas. Him he found standing

In back of the battle, for Aeneas was always angry

At royal Priam⁴ because he paid him no honor

Among the people, great man though he certainly was.

Now Deïphobus came up close and his words came winged

With telling entreaty:

“Aeneas, counselor of Trojans,

Now there is great need of you to help in the fight

For your brother-in-law Alcathous. If you care

At all for your sister’s husband, come with me now

To rescue his corpse. He, after all, was the one

Who brought you up at home from the time you were little,

And he, I say, has fallen to spear-famed Idomeneus!”

These words stirred the heart in the breast of Aeneas, ,

Who hungry for battle went at once for Idomeneus.

He, however, did not flee in his fear

Like some pampered boy, but stood his ground like a boar

Hard-pressed in the mountains, one that trusts in his strength

And awaits the clamoring throng that comes against him

At bay in a lonely place. He bristles his back

Up high and fire flames from his eyes as he whets

His tushes and impatiently waits for his chance at the dogs

And men. So now Idomeneus stood and faced

Cry-answering Aeneas, but he did bellow back to his comrades

For help, looking to Ascalaphus, Aphareus, and Deïpyrus,

As well as Meriones and Antilochus, masters of war-cry.

To these he spoke winged words, urging them thus:

“Come here, my friends, and help one standing alone,

For deeply I fear the swiftly-charging Aeneas,

Now coming at me. Great is his power to kill men

In battle, and his is the flower of youth, when the might

Of a man is strongest. Were we of equal age

And in our present mood, then the outcome would be

More uncertain, and either of us might win a great victory.”

He spoke, and they with one accord closed in

And stood by Idomeneus, close together and sloping

Their shields to their shoulders. And Aeneas on his side called

To his comrades, looking for help to Deïphobus, Paris,

And noble Agenor, who like him were leaders

Of Trojans. And after them came the troops, as sheep

Follow after the ram from pasture to where they drink,

And their shepherd rejoices to see them. Even so, the heart

Of Aeneas was glad when he saw the host behind him.

Then over Alcathous’ corpse they clashed with long spears,

And the bronze on their breasts rang grimly as through the crowd

They aimed at each other. And more than all the rest

Two fiercely battling peers of the War-god, Aeneas

And Idomeneus, lusted to cleave each other’s flesh

With the ruthless bronze. Aeneas made the first cast,

But Idomeneus, looking straight at him, avoided the spear,

The hurtling bronze of Aeneas that vainly flew

From his powerful hand and quivering stuck in the ground.

Then Idomeneus threw and pierced the gut of Oenomaus,

Cutting a gash in his armor, through which his entrails

Oozed. He fell in the dust and clawed the ground.

And Idomeneus wrenched his long-shadowing spear from the corpse,

But so belabored was he by missiles he could not

Remain to strip from his victim’s shoulders the exquisite

Armor. For he was no longer fast in a charge,

Neither able quickly to follow a cast of his own

Nor nimbly avoid another’s. And since his speed

Was no longer such as to take him safely from battle,

He mixed in hand-to-hand fighting and kept off death

At close quarters. Now, as step by step he withdrew,

Deiphobus hurled his bright spear at him, for always,

Remembering his taunts, he hated Idomeneus. Again,

However, he missed, but sent his huge shaft through the shoulder

Of Ares’ son Ascalaphus, bringing him down

In the dust, where dying he clutched at the ground. But as yet

Huge-hulking, bellowing Ares was not aware

That his son had gone down in the mighty struggle. For he sat

On the highest peak of Olympus beneath golden clouds,

Where he along with the other immortal gods

Was kept from the war by the will of almighty Zeus.

Now over Ascalaphus fighting men rushed together,

And Deïphobus tore the bright helmet off the still head.

But Meriones, peer of swift Ares, sprang at Deïphobus,

Stabbing the Trojan’s upper arm with his spear,

And the plumed bronze fell from his hand and clanged on the

ground.

Then again Meriones sprang, swooping in like a vulture,

Jerked the huge spear from the arm of Deïphobus, and quickly

Shrank back mid a crowd of comrades. And Polites took

His brother Deiphobus round the waist with both arms

And got him out of the horrible conflict, back

To where his fast horses stood waiting for him with their driver

And ornate car. These bore him off to the city,

Faint with pain and heavily groaning, and the dark blood

Dripped from his new-wounded arm.

But the others fought on

With loud, unquenchable cries. Then Aeneas, leaping

At Aphareus, son of Caletor, plunged his sharp spear

Deep into his throat, and the man’s head fell to one side

As he crumpled up beneath his helmet and shield,

And heartbreaking death engulfed him. And Nestor’s son

Antilochus, watching his chance sprang out at Thoon

Just as he turned and slashed his back with a spear,

Completely cutting the vein that runs up the back

To the neck. This he severed, and Thoön fell

On his back in the dust, stretching up both of his hands

To his dear friends. But Antilochus leaped upon him

And started to strip his shoulders of armor, cautiously

Looking from side to side. For he was soon

Surrounded by Trojans fiercely thrusting their spears

At his all-glinting shield. They failed, however, to pierce

The huge piece, nor did they so much as scratch his flesh

With the ruthless bronze they wielded. For Poseidon, shaker

Of shores, completely protected the son of King Nestor,

Even though he was belabored with many keen missiles.

Nor did Antilochus try to flee from the foe,

But ranged among them constantly wielding his spear

And eager to cast at some Trojan, or to charge in close

And clash hand to hand. But as he drew back to throw

Through the melee, Adamas, son of Asius, seeing

Him so, charged in from nearby and plunged his sharp bronze

At Antilochus’ shield. Poseidon, however, god

With the blue-black hair, destroyed the force of the spear-point,

Begrudging that bronze the life of Nestor’s brave son.

Half of the shaft stuck there in the shield like a fire-hardened

Stake, while the rest of it lay on the ground. And Adamas,

Shunning destruction, shrank back mid a crowd of comrades.

But Meriones came at him hotly and hurled his spear in

Between his privates and navel, where Ares is cruelest

To suffering mortals. Deeply he planted it there,

And Adamas leaned toward the shaft, writhing about it

Like a stubborn bull that herdsmen rope in the hills

And drag away resisting. So Adamas twisted

And writhed for a while, but not very long—just

Till the warring Meriones came and wrenched the spear

From his gut. Then darkness enveloped his eyes.

And Helenus,

Son of Priam, swinging a huge Thracian sword,

Came down on Deïpyrus’ temple, splitting his helmet

And ripping it off to the ground, where it rolled mid the feet

Of the fighters till some Achaean retrieved it. And the pit-black

Darkness of death came down on Deïpyrus, quickly

Eclipsing his eyes.

Then Atreus’ son Menelaus

Was gripped with grief for his fellow Achaean, so he,

The great battle-roarer, boldly stalked out, threatening

Heroic Prince Helenus, Atrides drawing his spear back

Even as Helenus bent the horns of his bow.

Thus both at one instant let fly, the one with an arrow

Swift from the bowstring, the other with keen-pointed spear.

And the son of Priam landed his shaft on the breast

Of King Menelaus, but the painful point glanced off

The bronze of his breastplate. As the black-skinned beans or chickpeas

Along a large threshing floor leap from the flat

Wide winnowing-fan, tossed up by a rapidly shoveling

Winnower before a gusty shrill wind, so now

The keen arrow glanced from the bronze of famed Menelaus

And sped on its way But he, the great battle-roarer,

Threw and struck Prince Helenus full on the hand

Wherein he was holding his polished weapon, and the bronze point

Tore through his flesh and into the bow. Then Helenus,

Shunning destruction, shrank back mid a crowd of comrades,

Dangling his hand and dragging the ashen shaft.

And great-souled Agenor drew the spear from his hand

And wrapped the wound with a strip of twisted sheep’s wool,

Making a sling of the fine-woven stuff, which the squire

Of the people’s shepherd Agenor carried for him.

Now Peisander charged straight at illustrious King Menelaus,

But an evil fate was leading him on to his death—

His death at your hands, Menelaus, there in the awesome

Heat of battle. But as they came close to each other,

Atreus’ son Menelaus missed, his spear

Turning off to one side. Peisander, however, struck

With his bronze on the other’s wide shield, which stopped the point

From piercing clean through, and the shaft broke off at the socket.

Even so, Peisander rejoiced and still had high hopes

Of winning. But Atreus’ son whipped out his sword

With the studs of silver and sprang at Peisander, who brought

From behind his shield a splendid bronze battle-ax

Set on a lengthy handle of well-polished olive.

At once they came at each other. And Peisander hacked

Menelaus on the horn of his helmet, a little below

The horsehair plume, but Atrides caught his opponent

Squarely between the eyes, crunching the bones in

Loudly and dropping both bloody eyes in the dust

At his feet. Doubling up, Peisander fell, and Menelaus

Planted a foot on his chest and stripped him of armor,

Exultantly saying:

“Surely in just this condition

Will all you insufferable Trojans leave the ships

Of the swiftly-drawn Danaans, you that are always so hungry

For the horrible screams of battle. Nor have you any

Shortage at all of other most shameful disgraces—

Such, for instance, as that you heaped on me,

You men like so many filthy bitches! you

That had no fear in your hearts of the harsh wrath of Zeus,

Hospitality’s high-thundering god, who some day will sack

Completely your steep citadel. For you abducted

My wife, who had I am sure welcomed you warmly,

And taking much treasure to boot you wantonly sailed

Away. And now you would like nothing better than throwing

Your terrible fire on the seagoing ships of heroic

Achaeans, whom surely you’d like to destroy one and all.

But you will be stopped, believe me, no matter how spoiling

For blood you may be—0 Father Zeus, they say

You vastly surpass all men and gods in wisdom,

Yet from you all of these horrors come!

Even now you are favoring proud and evil men,

Trojans who always presume and whose spirit is blindly

Wanton and wicked, nor do they ever get half

Enough of evil, all-leveling war. Men get

Their fill of all things, of sleep and love, sweet song

And flawless dancing, and most men like these things

Much better than war. Only Trojans are always

Thirsty for blood!”

So saying, Menelaus the blameless

Stripped the corpse of its bloody armor and gave it

To comrades of his, and he himself went back

And mixed with the front-line champions. At once Harpalion,

King Pylaemenes’ son, charged down upon him,

He who followed his dear sire to Troy to fight

In the war but never returned to the land of his fathers.

Closing in quickly, he plunged his spear at the center

Of King Menelaus’s shield, but did not succeed

In driving the bronze clean through. Back he shrank

Mid a crowd of comrades, shunning destruction and nervously

Glancing about him, lest someone should get to his flesh

With the bronze. But as Harpalion headed for cover,

Meriones shot at him a bronze-pointed arrow

And struck him on the right buttock. The point passed under

The bone and into his bladder, and Harpalion sank

In the arms of his friends, where soon he breathed forth his life

And lay stretched out in the dust like a worm, while his blood

Ran darkly forth, soaking the ground. The brave

Paphlagonians did all they could. Then putting him

In a chariot, some of them took him to sacred Ilium,

Grieving, and among them went his weeping father.

Nor for his dead son was any blood-price ever paid.^am

But the death of this man infuriated Prince Paris,

For Harpalion had once been his host among the numerous

Paphlagonians. Hence, in anger for him,

He shot a bronze-headed shaft. Now there from his home

In Corinth was a son of the seer Polyidus, a certain

Euchenor, both wealthy and good. This man had boarded

His ship with very full knowledge of his deadly fate,

For often his noble old sire Polyidus had told him

That he must either die of a horrible illness

At home, or among the ships of Achaea be killed

By the Trojans.^† Therefore, he went to the war, avoiding

The onerous fine he would else have had to pay

And also escaping the pain of hateful disease.

Now Paris struck him just under the jawbone and ear,

And at once the spirit took leave of his limbs, and he

Was seized by abhorrent darkness.

So here the fight raged

Like blazing fire. But Zeus-loved Hector had not

Been informed and had no idea that there on the left

Of the ships the Argives were rapidly killing his men.

The Argives, in fact, very nearly won a great victory,

So huge was the might of Poseidon, embracer and shaker

Of earth, who kept inspiring the Argives and adding

His strength to theirs. Hector, then, still fought

At the point where first he had crashed in the gate and sprung

Within the wide wall, smashing the close-drawn ranks

Of shield-bearing Danaans, there where the ships of Ajax

And Protesilaus were hauled up high on the beach

Of the briny gray sea. At this point the wall was lower

Than anywhere else, and here the melee of men

And Danaan horses was most chaotic of all.

And the warriors here, the Boeotians and long-robed Ionians,

The Locrians, Phthians, and splendid Epeans, had all

They could do to stem noble Hector’s attack on the ships,

Nor were they able to thrust him back from themselves,

As onward the great Prince came like flaming fire.

Here too were picked Athenians led by their chieftain

Peteos’ son Menestheus, followed by Pheidas,

Stichius, and able Bias. The Epeans were headed

By Phyleus’ son Meges, Amphion, and Dracius, while the

Phthians

Fought behind Medon and unretreating Podarces.

This Medon was King Oïleus’ bastard and thereby

A brother of Ajax, but since he had killed a kinsman

Of his stepmother Eriopis, wife of Oïleus,

He lived far from home in Phylace. And Podarces, the other

Brave leader, was Iphiclus’ son and the grandson of Phylacus.

These two in full armor fought in front of the spirited

Phthians, who with the Boeotians fought in defense

Of the ships. But the lawful son of Oileus, Ajax

The swift, would not for an instant leave the side

Of Ajax, son of Telamon. Quite like a pair

Of wine-red oxen that strain with equal heart

To draw the strong plow through fallow earth, as the sweat

Streams up from about the base of their horns and they

Toil on down the furrow, held no further apart

Than the polished yoke holds them, till they have cut through to

the edge

Of the field, so now the two Ajaxes stood and fought

By each other’s side. Behind Telamonian Ajax

Came many a brave band of comrades, who always took

His shield whenever his sweat-drenched limbs grew weary.

But after the great-hearted son of Oïleus came none

Of his Locrian troops, for none of them relished close combat,

Since they had no bronze-plated helmets, plumed thickly with

horsehair,

Nor any round shields or ashen spears, but trusting

In bows and slings of well-twisted sheep’s wool, they followed

Oïleus’ son to Ilium. Rapidly shooting

With these, they broke the Trojan battalions. So those

Up front, clad in their richly wrought armor, fought

With the Trojans and brazen-helmeted Hector, while these,

The Locrian bowmen, shot from behind unnoticed,

But with their arrows they took all fight from the Trojans

And threw them into confusion.

The Trojans then

Would miserably have retreated, leaving the ships

And making for windy Troy, had Polydamas not

Again come up to brave Hector, and said: “Hector,

Surely you find it hard to accept the advice

Of another. Because God gave you pre-eminent prowess

In war, you want to believe that you’re also supreme

In wisdom and counsel, but you cannot possibly take

All things on yourself. For to one man God gives prowess

In war, to another in dancing, or playing the lyre

And singing. And in another man far-seeing Zeus

Puts an excellent mind, much to the profit of many,

Whom his quick thinking frequently saves from ruin,

As surely he knows better than anyone else.

Hence I will speak and say what seems to me best.

Around you burns a ring of blazing war,

But the spirited Trojans who got past the wall are some

Of them standing apart though fully armed, while others

Are scattered among the ships where always outnumbered

They’re fighting. But come, fall back and call in all

Our best men. Then we can think of all possible plans

And together decide what to do, whether to fall

On the many-oared ships, if God should will that we win,

Or else to withdraw from the ships without further harm

To ourselves. Frankly I fear the Achaeans may yet

Pay us back for what we did to them yesterday, for they

Have one at the ships who never gets battle enough,

And who, I think, will not much longer keep

So completely out of the fighting.”

Polydamas spoke,

And Hector, pleased with such counsel, leaped down and replied

In these winged words: “Polydamas, keep here with you

All our best men, while I go yonder and face

The fighting. I’ll come back as soon as I’ve given my orders.”⁵

So saying, he left, his bronze as glittering bright

As a snowy mountain, and shouting instructions he ran

Through the army of Trojans and Trojan allies. And they

All made for the genial Polydamas, Panthous’ son,

When they heard the orders of Hector. But he sped on

Through the foremost champions, seeking Deïphobus and mighty

Prince Helenus, and Adamas, son of Asius, and Asius,

Son of Hyrtacus, hoping that he might find them.

But he found none of them both alive and unwounded,

For two were stretched out by the sterns of Achaean ships,

Felled by Argive hands, and the others were back

In the city, wounded by spears at close range and long.

One, though, he soon discovered there on the left

Of the tearful struggle, Prince Paris, the lord of lovely

Blonde Helen, cheering his comrades and urging them on

In the fight. Coming up to him, Hector spoke these harsh words:

“Foul Paris! most handsome, girl-crazy seducer, where,

If you will, are Deïphobus and mighty Prince Helenus, and

Adamas,

Son of Asius, and Asius, son of Hyrtacus?

And where, I say, is Othryoneus? Now steep Troy

Is utterly lost, and now total ruin is utterly

Certain for you! ”

Then the handsome Paris replied:

“Hector, now you are blaming an innocent man.

At some other time I may have left a battle,

But not today. My mother bore even me

Not wholly a coward. For ever since you sent

Your men into battle against the ships, we

Have held our ground here and ceaselessly dallied our bit

With the Danaan forces. Our friends, of whom you inquire,

Are dead, except Deïphobus and mighty Prince Helenus,

And both of them have withdrawn with arm-wounds received

From long spears. Cronos’ son Zeus kept death from those two.

But on! Lead us wherever your heart and soul

Say go, and we will eagerly come on behind you,

Nor shall we, I think, be any way lacking in valor

So long as our strength holds out. Once that is gone,

No man can fight, no matter how eager he is.”

So saying, Prince Paris persuaded the mind of his brother,

And they made straight for the place where the din of battle

Was greatest, about Cebriones and peerless Polydamas,

And Phalces, Orthaeus, godlike Polyphetes, and Palmys,

And Hippotion’s sons Ascanius and Morys, who had come

The morning before from fertile Ascania, sent

As relief for their fellows, and now Zeus impelled them to fight.

And on they came with the force of perilous winds

That rush down hard on the sea before the thunder

Of Father Zeus and stir up the brine with incredible

Roaring, raising up numerous foaming waves

In the swell of the surging and loud-crashing sea, high-curled

And white, billow on billow one after the other.

So the Trojans, massed in formation, rank

Upon rank and blazing with bronze, followed their chieftains.

Priam’s son Hector led all the rest, he

The equal of man-ruining Ares. Before him he held

His round shield, thick with hides and heavy bronze plate

Hammered on it, and about his temples his bronze helmet swayed.

Striding out here and there, he tried the Achaeans’ battalions,

Seeing if anywhere one of them would give way

Before his shield-covered charge. But he was unable

To quell the Achaean spirit, and Ajax, coming

Ahead with long strides, was first to challenge him, saying:

“Madman! come closer. Why are you trying so vainly

To frighten the Argives? Believe me, we are not at all

Unskillful in battle, and only by Zeus’s rough scourge

Have we been so whipped. You, I suppose, would still like

To plunder our ships, but know that we too have hands

That are quick to defend what is ours. In fact, we have

A much better chance to take and plunder your populous

City And as for yourself, I say the day nears

When you in full flight shall pray to Father Zeus

And the other immortals to make your mane-tossing horses

Faster than falcons, as on toward the city they bear you

Beating up dust from the plain.”

As he spoke, a bird

Flew by on the right, a high-flying eagle, whereat

The Achaeans cried out, made brave by the ominous bird-sign.

But shining Hector replied: “Ajax, you word-bunghng,

Bellowing fool! what now have you said! I only

Wish that I all my life were as surely the son

Of aegis-great Zeus and queenly Hera and so

Were honored as Athena and Apollo are, as surely

Today holds evil for everyone of the Argives!

And with them you too will be killed, if you have the courage

To stand and await my long spear, which soon shall bite deep

Through your lily-white skin. And you with your fat and your flesh

Shall glut the dogs and carrion birds of Troy

When you have gone down among the ships of Achaea!”^an

He spoke, and led the charge, and after him came

His men with an unbelievable roar, which the host

Behind them took up. And the Argives opposite them

Replied with their screams of battle, nor did they forget

Their courage and war-skill, but stood and awaited the charge

Of the bravest Trojans. And the two armies’ cries went up

Through the air to the ray-bright, splendid aether of Zeus.^ao