So he spoke and held out his arms to the child. But the child screamed and hid his head in his nurse’s breast, for he was frightened by his father’s warlike appearance and by his brazen helmet with its terrifying crest of fluttering horsehair. Hector smiled at the child, took off the gleaming helmet, laid it on the ground, and kissed his little son and rocked him in his arms. Then he prayed to heaven: “Zeus, and all the gods! Let this boy become like his father, a leader of the people. Let him grow mighty and govern the city, and when he returns from battle laden with spoils, let them say: ‘He is even braver than his father was.’ ” With these words he laid his son in his wife’s arms, and she pressed him to her, smiling through her tears.
Hector sorrowfully stroked her hand and said: “Do not be sad! No one will kill me if it is not my fate to die. But no mortal can escape his destiny. Go to your distaff and loom and see to your women. The men of Troy must bear the brunt of this war—and most of all myself.” And Hector set his helmet on his head and left her.
Andromache went toward her palace, looking back many times, and weeping tears of sorrow. When her women saw her, they too were overcome with sadness, and in his own palace Hector was mourned as though he were already dead.
Paris did not delay. Armed with shining weapons of bronze he strode through the city like a stately stallion which breaks loose from the halter when it has eaten its fill and races toward the river. He reached his brother just as he turned from Andromache. “I have kept you waiting, haven’t I?” he called to Hector from afar. “I have made my elder brother wait because I did not come promptly enough.”
But Hector answered him kindly: “My good brother, in fairness I must say that you are a brave fighter, only that you often hang back and idle away the hours. And then it cuts me to the heart when I must listen while the Trojans, who have suffered so much for you, speak of you with derision. But we shall talk of all this another time, when we have chased the Achaeans from our coast, sit at ease in the palace, and drain the cup of freedom.”
HECTOR AND AJAX IN SINGLE COMBAT
When Athene, looking down from Olympus, saw the two brothers striding to battle, she herself impetuously hastened to the city of Troy. Under the beech tree of Zeus she met Apollo who had left the ramparts of the citadel and was directing the fighting of the Trojans. “What fiery zeal has driven you here from Olympus?” he asked his sister. “Are you still ruthlessly bent on the fall of Troy? If only you would listen to me and allow this day to pass without decisive warfare! Let them fight another time, for I know that Hera and you will not rest until lofty Troy lies in ruins.”
Athene replied: “Far-Darter, let it be as you say. It was with this very thought in mind that I came down from Olympus. But tell me how you expect to stop all these men from fighting?”
“What we must do,” said Apollo, “is to swell the courage of mighty Hector until he challenges one of the Danai to single combat. Then let us watch and see how they acquit themselves.” Pallas Athene agreed.
The spirit of Helenus, the soothsayer, had heard this conversation of the immortals. Swiftly he went to Hector and said: “Wise son of Priam, obey my counsel this once, for I am your brother who loves you! Bid all the others, Trojans and Ar gives alike, call a truce. But you yourself shall challenge the bravest among the Argives to single combat which will decide the war. You may do this without danger. Believe me, for I am a seer and know that your time to die is not yet come.”
Hector rejoiced at these words. He halted the Trojan army and, holding his spear in the middle, stepped forth between the two hosts. They marked this sign, and now the fighting stopped on both sides, for Agamemnon too ordered his men to refrain. Athene and Apollo meanwhile perched in the beech tree of Zeus in the shape of two vultures and delighted in the turmoil. At last all were seated with shields, helmets, and lances bristling about them, moving no more than the sea when the least breath of the west wind just ruffles its waters. And now Hector, standing in the center, began to speak.
“Trojans and Danai, hear what my heart bids me undertake. Zeus has not approved the treaty we recently made. Rather has he incited both your men and mine not to rest until either Troy is vanquished or you are driven back to your ships. The bravest heroes of all Greece have come with your host. Whichever of these dares to fight me in single combat, let him now come forward. This is what I propose, and may Zeus be my witness: if my opponent slays me with his spear, he shall have my armor and carry it to his ship as the spoils of war, but let him send my body to Troy, so that it may be honored in death and may burn on a pyre heaped on native soil. But should Apollo grant me the victory, should I slay my opponent, I shall hang his armor up in the temple of Phoebus in Troy, and you may bury your dead with all splendor and pile his burial mound at the Hellespont, pile it so high that in times to come sailors will say: ‘See! Here is the burial mound of a man who died long since, one who was killed in combat with glorious Hector.’ ”
So he spoke, but the Argives were silent, for it was shameful to refuse this challenge and dangerous to accept it. Finally Menelaus rose and chided his people. “Alas!” he said. “What cowards you are! Women rather than men! It would be a disgrace we could never live down if no Argive dared confront Hector. You who sit there with cringing hearts that do not thirst for glory, I wish you were all turned back to water and mud! I myself shall prepare for combat and commend the outcome to the gods.” With this he girt on his armor, and his death would have been sealed, had not the Argive princes started up and held him back.
Agamemnon seized his right hand and said: “Brother, wait! What are you thinking of? You are mad to fight one stronger than yourself, one of whom those mightier than you are afraid, for even Achilles hesitated to measure his strength against Hector’s. We all beg you to think better of it!”
In this way Agamemnon persuaded Menelaus to alter his resolve. And now Nestor addressed the people and told them the tale of a combat he had fought with Ereuthalion of Arcadia. “If I were young,” he said in conclusion, “if my strength were still as unbroken as in those days, Hector would not have long to wait for an opponent.” After these words, intended as censure, nine princes arose and offered to do single combat with Hector. First among these was Agamemnon, then came Diomedes, and after him the two Ajaces; then Idomeneus, Meriones, his friend, Eurypylus, Thoas, and Odysseus. “The lot shall decide,” said Nestor. “And no matter on which of you it falls, the Argives will rejoice and so will he himself when he issues victorious from this conflict.”
Each marked his own lot, and they were tossed into Agamemnon’s helmet. Nestor shook it, and out leaped the lot of Ajax, son of Telamon. A herald took it in his hand and passed it to each of the eight heroes before Ajax, but no one recognized it until it reached him who had marked it himself. Joyfully Ajax threw down the lot and cried: “It is mine! And I am glad, for I hope to vanquish Hector. Do you all pray silently or aloud while I make myself ready!”
The people obeyed. Ajax girded on his shining armor and stormed into battle like the war-god himself. A smile lit his grave face as he strode forward, brandishing his heavy lance. All the Argives rejoiced at sight of him, and a shudder of fear rippled through the Trojan battalions. Even the heart of great Hector hammered against his ribs, but now he could not draw back, for he himself had given the challenge to combat.
Ajax approached him, covering his body with the shield of bronze and seven oxhides, which Tychius, a peerless craftsman, had once made for him. When he was quite close to Hector, he said threateningly:
“Hector, now you can well see that the Danai have other heroes besides the lion-hearted son of Peleus, other and many! So let us begin!”
And Hector answered: “Godlike son of Telamon, do not try to frighten me as though I were a weak child or a woman faint of spirit. For I am experienced in fighting with men. I know how to shift the shield left and right, I know how to foot the dance of the terrible war-god and guide the horses through the tumult. Come then! Not with hidden ruse but op
enly will I launch my spear at you.”
With these words he cast his lance, and it flew in a bold curve straight into the shield of Ajax through six layers of hide and stopped only at the seventh. Now the son of Telamon flung his lance, and it shattered Hector’s shield, cut his cuirass, and would have entered his groin had not Hector swerved to one side. Both drew their spears and ran at each other again and again like tireless boars. Hector aimed at the middle of Ajax’s shield, but the point of his lance bent and did not penetrate the bronze. Ajax pierced his opponent’s shield and grazed his neck, so that the dark blood spurted out. Now Hector drew back a few steps; his sinewy right hand gripped a stone lying in the field and with it he hit the buckle of his enemy’s shield so that the bronze rang. Then Ajax picked up a bigger stone and hurled it at Hector with such force that the shield caved in and Hector was wounded in the knee and fell on his back. But he did not let go his shield; Apollo, who stood beside him invisible to all, quickly raised him from the earth. And now these two would have rushed at each other with their swords to decide the combat once and for all, had not the heralds of both peoples—Idaeus for the Trojans and Talthybius for the Argives—run forward and held their staves between the combatants. “Do not fight any more,” called Idaeus. “You are both courageous and both favored by Zeus. All of us have seen this. But night is coming! Obey the bidding of night!”
“Speak to him who belongs to your own people,” Ajax answered the herald. “It is he who challenged the bravest among the Argives to single combat. Let him stop if he wants to!”
And now Hector addressed his opponent: “Ajax, a god gave you your strong limbs, your power, and your skill in casting the spear. Today let us rest from the combat. We will renew it another time and fight until Zeus confers victory and fame on one or the other of our two peoples. But now let us honor each other with gifts, so that the Trojans and the Argives one day may say: ‘They fought with each other as foes but they parted as friends.’ ”
So said Hector and gave his opponent his sword with the silver hilt, together with the scabbard and the sword strap. And Ajax undid his crimson belt and offered it to Hector. Then they parted. Ajax returned to the Argive battalions, and Hector went back to the Trojans who were happy to see their hero emerge alive from the hands of terrible Ajax.
THE TRUCE
The Argive princes assembled in the house of Agamemnon, their commander-in-chief, and to them came Ajax, exulting at his prowess and heralded by loud acclaim. A fat bull five years old was sacrificed to Zeus, and the victor was given the best pieces, cut from the back. When they had eaten and drunk their fill, Nestor opened the assembly of princes with the proposal not to fight on the following day but call a truce, fetch the bodies of fallen Argive heroes with wagons drawn by oxen and mules, and burn them near the ships, so that when they returned to their own country each could bring the children of his kinsmen the bones of those who had belonged to them. His words were greeted with a burst of applause.
The Trojans, on their part, assembled in front of the king’s palace on the acropolis. They were bewildered and dismayed at the outcome of the combat. Wise Antenor was the first to speak. “Mark my words, Trojans and allies!” he said. “We have broken faith! As long as we persist in fighting contrary to our solemn oath, the oath which Pandarus violated, no good can come to our people. I, for one, shall not hide what I think, and herewith counsel you to hand over to the Argives Helen with all her treasure.”
When he had spoken, Paris rose and replied: “If you have proposed this in all seriousness, Antenor, then the gods must, indeed, have robbed you of your senses. As for me, I shall say straight out that I do not intend ever to give up Helen. Let them have the treasure we took from Argos, for all I care. And I shall gladly add to it from my own stores as much as they demand in recompense.”
After his son, Priam, the aged king, spoke in calm tones: “Do not let us undertake anything further this day, my friends. Distribute their evening fare to the men, place your guards, and give yourselves up to sleep. Tomorrow Idaeus, our herald, shall go to the Argive fleet, convey the peaceable words of my son Paris, and at the same time discover whether they are willing to call a truce until we have burned our dead. If we cannot come to an agreement, let war be resumed when the burial mounds are heaped.”
And so it was done. The next morning Idaeus, the herald, appeared before the Achaeans and reported the offer of Paris and the king’s proposal. The Argive heroes listened to what he had to say and remained silent for a long time. At last Diomedes spoke. “Fellow Argives,” he said, “do not so much as dream of taking the treasure; not even if they give you Helen along with it. The most credulous among you can easily see from this proposal that the Trojans know they are doomed.”
All the princes shouted approval, and now Agamemnon turned to the herald. “You have heard what the Danai have resolved in regard to your offer. But we shall not deny you the burning of your dead. The Thunderer himself shall bear witness to our consent.” And saying this, he raised his scepter toward heaven.
Idaeus returned to Troy and found the Trojans gathered in assembly. When he had reported the reply, the city was quickly astir. Some fetched the bodies of the dead, others felled trees on the mountain slopes. And the same was happening in the Argive camp. Peacefully foe met foe in the beams of the morning sun, each looked for his dead on the other’s side of the field. As for the fallen warriors, lying on the ground stripped of their armor and covered with blood, it was difficult to distinguish friend from enemy. Their lids red with tears, the Trojans washed the blood from the limbs of the corpses—and there were more slain Trojans than Argives. But Priam had forbidden loud lament, so they lifted them silently into the wagons, heaped the pyres, and locked their sorrow in their hearts. The Achaeans did the same. They too were sad, and when the blaze had died down they returned to their ships. The work had taken up the whole day; it was time for the evening meal. From Lemnos, Euneus, son of Jason and Hypsipyle, had sent cargo ships laden with fragrant wines, many thousand jars, for the Argives to whom he was bound by ties of hospitality. These arrived at a very opportune moment. A great banquet was spread, and when the Argives had seen to their dead they sat down at the festal board.
The Trojans too wanted to refresh themselves from the toils of battle, but Zeus left them no peace. All through the night he startled them with crashes of thunder, repeated at intervals, and each seemed to forebode new disaster. Terror gripped their hearts, and they did not dare touch their lips to the cup without first pouring a libation to the angry father of gods.
A TROJAN VICTORY
But for the moment Zeus withheld decision. “Mark my words well!” he said to the assembled gods and goddesses on the following morning. “If, on this day, one of you dares to help either the Danai or the Trojans, I shall seize the rebel and hurl him into the chasm of Tartarus, as far below earth as earth lies beneath heaven. Then I shall bolt the iron gate which guards the brazen threshold of the underworld, and never again shall the evildoer see the light of Olympus. If you doubt my power to carry out this threat, fasten a golden chain to heaven, hold fast to it, every one of you, and see if you can pull me down to earth! But more likely I shall draw you upward, and the land and sea with you, and knot the chain to the peak of Olympus, so that the whole earth will float in air.”
The gods grew humble at these imperious words. But Zeus himself mounted his thunder chariot and drove to Mount Ida, where a grove and an altar were sacred to him. There he seated himself on the summit and surveyed the city of Troy and the Achaean camp with exultant pride. Everywhere men were girding on their armor. The Trojans were fewer in number, but they too were impatient for battle, for they were fighting in defense of their women and children. Presently their gates flew open, and the host thronged out swiftly in chariots and on foot, with clatter and cries. That morning both sides shared the fortunes of war equally, and both Argive and Trojan blood dyed the earth. But when the sun was steep in the sky at noon, Zeus placed two lots
of death in his golden scales, held them in the middle, and weighed them in air. And the part which held doom for the Argives dropped earthward, while the part holding the Trojan lot rose to heaven.
With thunder and lightning he warned the Danai of the change in their fate. When they saw this they shook with foreboding, and even the strongest quailed. Idomeneus, Agamemnon, and the two Ajaces faltered where they stood. Aged Nestor alone still fought in the van, but only because he could not retreat; for Paris had hit one of his horses between the forelocks, and the animal reared high in terror and then writhed on the ground with the pain of the wound. While Nestor attempted to cut loose the reins of the second horse with his sword, Hector, who was pursuing the Greeks, rode up to him in his chariot.
And now the life of noble Nestor would have been forfeit, had not Diomedes hastened to his aid. The son of Tydeus shouted reproach to Odysseus who had turned his back on the foe and was fleeing to the ships, and tried in vain to urge him back. Then he placed himself in front of Nestor’s horses, entrusted them to Sthenelus and Eurymedon, and took the old man in his own chariot which he drove straight at Hector. He cast his spear and, though he missed Hector himself, shot his charioteer Eniopeus through the breast, so that he fell to the ground. Deeply as Hector mourned the death of his friend, he let him lie and called another to drive the horses. Then he rushed at Diomedes. Now had Hector measured swords with the son of Tydeus he would have been doomed, and the father of gods knew very well that with his fall the tide of battle was bound to turn and that the Argives would take Troy that very day. Zeus did not wish this to happen, so he tossed a bolt of lightning to earth, close to the chariot of Diomedes. In terror Nestor dropped the reins and cried: “Flee, Diomedes! Did you not see that Zeus does not want you to conquer today?”
Gods and Heroes of Ancient Greece Page 42
