The War That Killed Achilles

by Caroline Alexander

  And on me—wretched and still sentient—have pity,

  born to ill fate, whom on the threshold of old age father Zeus son of

  Kronos

  will blight in unendurable fate, when I have seen

  the destruction of my sons, the abduction of my daughters,

  my chambers ravaged, and innocent children

  hurled to the ground in the terror of battle;

  my daughters-in-law abducted by the wicked hands of Achaean men,

  and I myself, last of all, at my very gates, my dogs

  will rip raw, when some man with sharp bronze

  stabbing or casting will strip the spirit from my limbs—

  the dogs I raised in my halls and fed at my table as guardians of my

  gates,

  these, maddened by the drinking of my blood,

  will sprawl in my doorway. All is decorous for the young man

  slain in war, torn by sharp bronze,

  laid out dead; whatever shows, everything is seemly when he dies.

  But when the dogs defile the white head and white beard

  and the private parts of a dead old man—

  this is most pitiable for wretched mortals.”

  So the old man spoke, and pulled his white hair with his hands,

  tearing it from his head. But he did not persuade the heart of Hektor.

  Now in turn his mother wailed, raining tears,

  loosening her robe, with a hand she exposed her breast

  and raining tears addressed him with winged words:

  “Hektor, my child, be moved by this and have pity on me,

  if ever I used to give you my breast to soothe you

  —remember those times, dear child, defend yourself against this

  deadly man

  from inside the walls; don’t stand as champion against him,

  my stubborn one. If he cuts you down, I will surely never

  mourn you on your deathbed, dear budding branch, whom I bore,

  nor will your worthy wife. But a long way from us

  by the ships of the Achaeans the running dogs will eat you.”

  Thus both of them weeping addressed their dear son,

  repeatedly beseeching. But they did not persuade the heart of Hektor,

  but he awaited Achilles, who was looming huge as he drew near.

  As a snake by its hole in the mountains waits for a man,

  having tasted evil poisons, and an unendurable gall comes upon it,

  and it shoots a stinging glance, coiled by its hole,

  so Hektor keeping his spirit unquelled did not retreat

  and leaned his shining shield against the jutting tower;

  agitated, he spoke to his great-hearted spirit:

  “O me, if I enter the gates and walls

  Poulydamas will be the first to reproach me,

  who bade me lead the Trojans to the city,

  that baneful night when Achilles the godlike rose,

  but I was not persuaded. It would have been far better if I had.

  Now since I have destroyed my people by my recklessness,

  I dread the Trojan men and the Trojan women with their trailing

  robes,

  lest some other man more worthless than me say:

  ‘Hektor, trusting in his strength, destroyed his people’—

  thus they will speak. It would be far better, then, for me

  to confront Achilles, either to kill him and return home

  or to die with honor at his hands, before my city

  —but what if I put aside my studded shield

  and my strong helmet, leaned my spear against the walls,

  and, going out alone, approached noble Achilles

  and pledged to him Helen and the possessions with her?

  All those things—as much as Alexandros carried away to Troy

  in his hollow ships, which was the beginning of our quarrel—

  to give to the sons of Atreus to lead away; and in addition

  to divide everything else with the Achaeans, whatever this city holds,

  and after that to make a formal oath with the Trojan council

  not to hide anything, but to divide it all, equally,

  whatever wealth this dear city guards within—

  but why does my spirit recite these things?

  I could set forth to meet him and he not pity me,

  nor even respect me, but kill me naked as I was,

  as if I were a woman, since I would have put off my armor.

  It is not now possible from rock or oak, in the country way,

  to chatter to him those things that a young girl and youth

  chatter to each other, a girl and youth—

  no, it is better to engage with him as quickly as possible;

  we shall see to whom the Olympians give glory.”

  Thus his thoughts churned as he waited, and Achilles drew near

  equal to the War God, the helmet-shaking warrior,

  brandishing his Pelian ash spear above his right shoulder,

  terrifying. The bronze glinted around him like the flare

  of blazing fire or of the sun rising.

  And as he watched him, trembling took hold of Hektor; and he could

  no longer endure

  there to stand his ground but left the gates behind, and, terrified,

  he ran.

  The son of Peleus charged for him, trusting in the swiftness of his feet;

  as a mountain hawk, lightest of all things on wings,

  easily swoops after a terror-stricken dove,

  which, away from under, flees, but crying sharply near

  he swoops continuously and his spirit drives him to take her,

  so Achilles flew straight for him, ravenous, and Hektor fled

  under the walls of Troy, working his swift knees.

  Past the watch place and the wild fig tree twisted by wind,

  always away from the walls, along the wagon path they ran,

  and reached the two fair-flowing streams, where the two springs

  gush forth from the whirling waters of Skamandros.

  One flows with warm water, enveloped with steam smoke

  that comes from it as if from a burning fire.

  The other even in summer runs as cold as hail,

  or snow water, or ice that forms from water.

  Near to these there are the broad washing hollows

  of fine stone, where their lustrous clothes

  the Trojan wives and their beautiful daughters washed

  in those days before, in peacetime, before there came the sons of the

  Achaeans.

  By this place they ran, one fleeing, the other behind pursuing.

  Outstanding was he who fled ahead—but far better he who

  pursued him

  swiftly, since it was not for a sacral animal nor for an ox hide

  they contended, prizes in the races of men—

  but they ran for the life of Hektor breaker of horses.

  As when prizewinning horses with their uncloven hooves

  tear around the turning post—a great prize awaits,

  a tripod, or a woman, in those games held when a man has died—

  so three times around the city of Priam they whirled

  in the swiftness of their feet, and all the gods looked on.

  To them the father of men and gods spoke the first word:

  “Alas, it is a dear man whom my eyes see

  pursued around the wall; my heart grieves

  for Hektor, who has burned many thigh cuts of sacral oxen to me,

  both on the summit of Ida of the many glens and at other times

  on the heights of his citadel. But now godlike Achilles

  pursues him in the swiftness of his feet around the city of Priam.

  But come, you gods, consider and take council

  whether we shall save him from death or,

  noble though he is, at the hands of Pel
eion Achilles break him.”

  Then the gray-eyed goddess Athene answered him:

  “O father of the bright thunderbolt and black clouds, what have you

  said?

  This man who is mortal, consigned long ago to fate—

  you want to take him back and free him from the harsh sorrow of

  death?

  Do so; but not all the other gods will approve.”

  In answer, Zeus who gathers the clouds addressed her:

  “Take heart, Tritogeneia, dear child. I did not now

  speak in earnest; I am willing to be solicitous of you.

  Act in whatever way your mind intends, nor hold back any longer.”

  So speaking, he urged Athene, who had been eager even before;

  and she went, slipping down from the peaks of Olympos.

  Relentlessly, swift Achilles kept driving Hektor panicked before him,

  as when a dog in the mountains pursues a deer’s fawn

  that he has started from its bed through glens and dells,

  and though, cowering in fright, it eludes him beneath a thicket,

  the dog runs on, tracking it steadily, until he finds it—

  so Hektor could not elude Achilles of the swift feet.

  Each time he made to dash toward the Dardanian Gates,

  under the well-built tower,

  in the hope that men from above might defend him with thrown

  missiles,

  each time did Achilles, outstripping him, turn him back

  toward the plain and he himself sped ever by the city.

  As in a dream a man is not able to pursue one who eludes him,

  nor is the other able to escape, nor he to pursue,

  so Achilles for all the swiftness of his feet was not able to lay hold of

  him, nor he escape.

  How then could Hektor have eluded his fated death

  had not Apollo for the last and final time joined closely with him,

  to rouse his spirit and make swift his knees?

  And shining Achilles was shaking his head at his men,

  nor allowed them to let fly their sharp spears at Hektor,

  lest whoever was making the throw claim glory, and himself come

  second.

  But when for the fourth time they came to the springs,

  then Zeus the father leveled his golden scales

  and placed in them two portions of death that brings enduring grief,

  that of Achilles and that of Hektor breaker of horses;

  he lifted them, holding by the middle, and the measured day of Hektor

  sank,

  headed to Hades, and Phoibos Apollo abandoned him.

  Then the gray-eyed goddess Athene came up to the son of Peleus

  and standing near addressed him in winged words:

  “Now I hope, illustrious Achilles, beloved of Zeus,

  to carry honor for us two back to the Achaean ships,

  after breaking Hektor, insatiate though he may be for battle;

  he can no longer get clear of us,

  not if Apollo the far-shooter should suffer countless trials for his sake,

  groveling before Father Zeus of the aegis.

  But you now stop and catch your breath, while I

  make my way to Hektor and convince him to fight man to man.”

  Thus spoke Athene, and Achilles obeyed and rejoiced in his heart

  and stood leaning on his bronze-flanged ash spear.

  She left him and came up to shining Hektor

  in the likeness of Deïphobos, in form and steady voice.

  Standing close, she spoke winged words:

  “My brother, swift Achilles presses you hard,

  pursuing you around the city of Priam in the swiftness of his feet.

  But come, let us stand firm and defend ourselves, holding fast.”

  Then great Hektor of the shimmering helm addressed him in turn:

  “Deïphobos, even before you were far dearest to me

  of my brothers, those sons whom Hekabe and Priam bore.

  Now I am minded to honor you even more in my heart—

  you who dared for my sake, when you saw me with your eyes,

  to quit the walls where the others remain inside.”

  Then the gray-eyed goddess Athene spoke to him:

  “My brother, our father and lady mother implored me greatly,

  entreating in turn, and the companions about them,

  to remain there—for so great is the dread of all;

  yet my inner spirit was harrowed with impotent grief.

  But now let us two press straight forward and go to battle,

  and let there be no restraint of our spears, so that we shall see if

  Achilles,

  killing us both, will bear our bloodied arms

  to his hollow ships, or if he will be broken by your spear.”

  Thus spoke Athene, and with cunning led him on.

  But when, as they advanced, they were close to one another,

  great Hektor of the shimmering helm spoke first:

  “No longer, son of Peleus, shall I flee from you, as before

  I fled three times around the great city of Priam nor could then endure

  to withstand your charge. But now my spirit stirs me

  to hold firm before you. I will take you, or be taken.

  But come, let us swear an oath upon our gods, for they

  will be the best witnesses and protectors of agreements.

  I will not, outrageous though you are, dishonor you if Zeus grants me

  to be the survivor and to take of you your life.

  But when I have stripped you of your splendid armor, Achilles,

  I will give your body back to the Achaeans; and do you the same.”

  Then, looking at him from beneath his brows, Achilles of the swift feet

  spoke:

  “Hektor, you who have done unforgettable deeds—not to me propose

  your agreements.

  As there are no pacts of faith between lions and men,

  nor do wolves and lambs have spirit in kind,

  but they plot evil unremittingly for one another,

  so it is not possible that you and I be friends, nor for us two

  will there be oaths; before that time one of us falling

  will sate with his blood the shield-bearing warrior god.

  Recollect your every skill. Now the need is very great

  to be a spearman and brave warrior.

  There will be no further escape for you, but soon Pallas Athene

  will break you by my spear. Now you will pay in one sum

  for all the sorrows of my companions, those whom you killed, raging

  with your spear.”

  He spoke, and, weighing his long-shadowed spear, he let it fly.

  But, holding it in his sight as it came at him, shining Hektor avoided it,

  for as he watched, he crouched and the bronze spear flew over

  and stuck in the earth; but Pallas Athene snatched it up

  and gave it back to Achilles, escaping the notice of Hektor, shepherd of

  the people.

  And Hektor addressed illustrious Achilles:

  “You missed! In no way, then, godlike Achilles,

  was it from Zeus you knew my fate—you only thought you did,

  and you turn out to a glib talker, a manipulator of words

  —fearing you, you thought I would forget my courage and defenses.

  But you will not fix your spear in my back as I flee,

  but drive it through my breast as I come at you,

  if god grants this to you. Now you in turn dodge my spear,

  bronze-pointed; would that you carried the whole of it in your flesh.

  Then would this war be lighter to bear for the Trojans,

  with you dead. For you are their greatest evil.”

  He spoke, and weighing his long-shadowing spear, he let it fly

 
and hurled at the middle of the son of Peleus’ shield, nor did he miss;

  but the spear glanced off the shield, for a long way. And Hektor was

  angry

  that his swift cast flew from his hand in vain,

  and he stood dejected, nor did he have any other ash-shafted spear.

  Raising his great voice, he called Deïphobos of the pale shield

  and asked him for his long spear—but Deïphobos was not near him.

  And Hektor understood within his heart and spoke aloud:

  “This is it. The gods summon me deathward.

  I thought the warrior Deïphobos was by me,

  but he is inside the walls, and Athene has tricked me.

  Hateful death is very near me; it is no longer far away,

  nor is there escape. And for some long time this has been pleasing

  to Zeus and to Zeus’ son who shoots from afar, who before this

  protected me willingly enough. Yet now destiny has caught me.

  Then let me not die without a struggle and ingloriously,

  but while doing some great thing for even men to come to hear of.”

  So speaking, he drew his sharp sword

  that hung down by his side, huge and strong-made,

  and, collecting himself, he swooped like a high-flying eagle,

  an eagle that plunges through lowering clouds toward the plain

  to snatch a soft lamb or a cowering hare;

  so Hektor swooped brandishing his sharp sword.

  But Achilles charged, his spirit filled with

  savage passion. Before his breast he held his covering shield,

  beautiful and intricately wrought, and nodded with his shining

  four-horned helmet; splendid horsehair flowed about it,

  of gold, which Hephaistos had set thickly around the helmet crest.

  As a star moves among other stars in the milky murk of night,

  Hesperus the Evening Star, which stands forth as the most beautiful in

  heaven,

  so the light shone from the well-pointed spearhead that Achilles

  was shaking in his right hand, bent upon evil for Hektor,

  surveying his handsome flesh, where it might best give way.

  So far the brazen armor protected his flesh,

  the beautiful armor that he stripped after slaying the life of

  Patroklos—

  but at that point where the collarbone holds the neck from the

  shoulders, there showed

  his gullet, where death of the soul comes swiftest;

  and at this point shining Achilles drove with his spear as Hektor

  strove against him,

  and the spearhead went utterly through the soft neck.