Prevod

Now when Zeus had brought the Trojans and Hector close to the ships, he left them there to bear the toil and misery without respite, while he turned his shining eyes away, looking far off over the land of the horse-breeding Thracians, the Mysians who fight at close quarters, the noble mare-milkers who live on milk, and the Abians, most just of men.

No longer did he turn his shining eyes toward Troy at all, for in his heart he did not expect any of the immortals to go and help either Trojans or Danaans. But the lord who shakes the earth was keeping no blind watch. He sat marveling at the war and battle, high on the topmost peak of wooded Samos in Thrace; from there all Ida lay in sight, and Priam’s city and the ships of the Achaeans.

There he had come up from the sea and taken his seat. He pitied the Achaeans, beaten down by the Trojans, and felt fierce anger against Zeus. At once he came down from the rugged mountain, striding swiftly on his feet; the long mountain ridges and the woods trembled beneath the immortal feet of Poseidon as he went.

Three strides he took, and with the fourth he reached his goal, Aegae, where his glorious palace stood in the depths of the sea, golden and gleaming, imperishable forever. When he came there, he harnessed to his chariot two bronze-hoofed horses, swift of flight, with flowing golden manes. He clothed himself in gold, took up a well-wrought golden whip, mounted his chariot, and drove out over the waves. From every side the creatures of the sea came leaping from their hiding places beneath him, knowing their lord; the sea parted in joy, and the horses flew so swiftly that the bronze axle below was not even wet. So his bounding horses bore him toward the ships of the Achaeans.

There is a wide cavern deep in the sea, between Tenedos and rugged Imbros. There Poseidon the earth-shaker halted his horses, unyoked them from the chariot, and set ambrosial fodder beside them to eat. Around their feet he fastened golden fetters, unbreakable and not to be loosened, so that they would stay there until their master returned. Then he went to the Achaean army.

The Trojans, massed like flame or a storm wind, followed Hector son of Priam with unrelenting fury, roaring and shouting. They hoped to take the Achaeans’ ships and kill all their finest men beside them.

But Poseidon, holder and shaker of the earth, came from the deep sea to rouse the Argives, taking on the form and tireless voice of Calchas. First he addressed the two Ajaxes, themselves already eager for battle: “Ajaxes, you two will save the Achaean army if you remember your courage and give no thought to chilling flight.

“Elsewhere I do not fear the irresistible hands of the Trojans who have swarmed over our great wall; the well-greaved Achaeans will hold them all. But here I am terribly afraid that disaster may befall us, where that madman leads them like a flame—Hector, who boasts that he is the son of mighty Zeus.

“May some god put this into both your hearts: to stand firm yourselves and urge the others on. Then you might drive him back from the swift ships, however fiercely he attacks, even if the Olympian himself is spurring him on.”

So he spoke, and with his staff the holder and shaker of the earth struck them both, filling them with fierce strength and making their legs and arms light. Then he himself rose in flight like a swift-winged hawk that launches from a sheer, towering cliff and sweeps across the plain in pursuit of another bird. So Poseidon the earth-shaker darted away from them.

Of the two, swift Ajax son of Oileus was first to recognize him, and at once he spoke to Ajax son of Telamon: “Ajax, one of the gods who dwell on Olympus has taken the likeness of the seer and is bidding us fight beside the ships. That was not Calchas, the prophet who reads the birds. As he went away, I easily knew him by the movement of his feet and legs behind him: gods are readily recognized. And my own heart within my breast is stirred more strongly to fight and do battle; my feet below and my hands above are eager for it.”

Ajax son of Telamon answered him: “So too my invincible hands are eager now to close around the spear. My strength is roused, and both my feet beneath me strain to charge. I long to face Hector son of Priam alone, for all his furious eagerness.”

So they spoke to one another, rejoicing in the fighting spirit the god had put into their hearts. Meanwhile the holder of the earth was rousing the Achaeans behind them, who were resting their weary hearts beside the swift ships.

Their limbs were slack with bitter exhaustion, and grief rose in their hearts as they watched the Trojans who had swarmed over the great wall. At the sight, tears fell from beneath their brows, for they thought they would never escape this disaster. But the earth-shaker slipped among them in disguise and easily roused their strong battalions.

First he came to urge on Teucer and Leitus, the hero Peneleos, Thoas and Deipyrus, Meriones and Antilochus, masters of the battle cry. Rousing them, he spoke these winged words: “Shame, Argives, young warriors! I trusted that by fighting you would save our ships. But if you abandon this grievous war, then surely the day has dawned when the Trojans will destroy us.

“Ah, what a dreadful marvel I see with my own eyes, something I never thought would come to pass—the Trojans advancing on our ships! Before this they were like frightened deer, which become the prey of jackals, leopards, and wolves in the woods, wandering helplessly, with no spirit for battle. So in former days the Trojans would never stand against the strength and hands of the Achaeans, not even for a moment. Now they fight far from their city beside our hollow ships, through the cowardice of our leader and the slackness of our men, who have quarreled with him and will not defend the swift ships, but let themselves be killed beside them.

“Yet even if the hero, wide-ruling Agamemnon son of Atreus, is wholly and truly to blame because he dishonored the swift-footed son of Peleus, we ourselves must not give up the fight.

“Let us set things right at once: the hearts of brave men can be healed. But you do wrong to slacken your fighting spirit, you who are the finest men in all the army. I would not quarrel with a coward who held back from war, but with you I am angry to the depths of my heart.

“My friends, this slackness of yours will soon bring some greater evil upon us. Let each man take shame and righteous anger to heart, for a mighty struggle has arisen. Strong Hector of the great battle cry is fighting beside the ships; he has smashed the gates and their long bar.”

With such commands the holder of the earth roused the Achaeans. Around the two Ajaxes strong battalions took their stand, such as neither Ares nor Athena, rouser of armies, could have faulted had they come among them. Picked men, the bravest, awaited the Trojans and noble Hector, fencing spear with spear and shield with shield, edge to edge. Shield pressed against shield, helmet against helmet, man against man. As they bent their heads, their horsehair-crested helmets touched along the shining ridges, so closely did they stand together. Their spears overlapped, brandished in bold hands; their thoughts were fixed straight ahead, and they yearned to fight.

The Trojans struck in a mass, with Hector leading, charging straight ahead like a boulder that a winter torrent thrusts from a cliff’s brow, breaking the stubborn rock’s supports with a boundless downpour. It flies in great bounds, and the woods thunder beneath it; on it races, unchecked, until it reaches level ground, and then, for all its force, it rolls no farther. So Hector had threatened to sweep easily through the Achaeans’ huts and ships as far as the sea, slaughtering as he went. But when he met the close-packed ranks, he was stopped, pressed hard against them. The sons of the Achaeans faced him, thrusting with swords and double-edged spears, and drove him back. He recoiled, staggering.

Then he shouted in a piercing voice for the Trojans to hear: “Trojans, Lycians, and Dardanians who fight at close quarters, stand firm! The Achaeans will not hold me long, though they have drawn themselves up like a wall. I think they will give way before my spear, if the best of gods, Hera’s loud-thundering husband, has truly sent me on.”

So he spoke, and roused the strength and spirit of every man. Among them strode Deiphobus son of Priam, proud of heart, holding his round shield before him, stepping lightly forward under its cover.

Meriones aimed his shining spear at him and struck the round shield of bull’s hide without missing. But he did not pierce it: long before the point could pass through, the spear broke at the socket. Deiphobus held the bull’s-hide shield away from him, frightened in his heart by the spear of warlike Meriones. The hero fell back into the throng of his companions, bitterly angered both at losing his victory and at the spear he had broken.

He set off along the Achaeans’ huts and ships to fetch a long spear he had left in his shelter. The others fought on, and an unquenchable clamor rose. Teucer son of Telamon was first to kill a man, the spearman Imbrius, son of Mentor, rich in horses. Before the sons of the Achaeans came, he had lived in Pedaeum, and had married Medesicaste, Priam’s daughter by a concubine. But when the curved ships of the Danaans arrived, he returned to Ilium, where he stood out among the Trojans and lived with Priam, who honored him like his own sons.

Telamon’s son stabbed him beneath the ear with his long spear, then drew it out. Imbrius fell like an ash tree on the summit of a mountain visible from far away, felled by the bronze axe until its tender leaves touch the earth. So he fell, and around him clattered his armor, richly worked in bronze.

Teucer rushed forward, eager to strip off his armor, and as he charged Hector hurled his shining spear. Teucer saw it coming and narrowly dodged the bronze point; instead, the spear struck Amphimachus in the chest as he came into battle, the son of Cteatus, son of Actor. He fell with a crash, and his armor rang upon him.

Hector sprang forward to snatch from great-hearted Amphimachus the helmet fitted close about his temples. But as he charged, Ajax lunged at him with his shining spear. He did not reach his flesh, for Hector was covered everywhere in fearsome bronze; instead he struck the boss of his shield and thrust him back with tremendous force. Hector gave ground from both the bodies, and the Achaeans dragged them away.

Stichius and noble Menestheus, leaders of the Athenians, carried Amphimachus back to the Achaean army. As for Imbrius, the two Ajaxes, eager in their fighting strength, lifted him high, as two lions snatch a goat from sharp-toothed dogs and carry it through thick brush, holding it in their jaws well clear of the ground. So the two armored Ajaxes held him aloft and stripped his armor. Then the son of Oileus, enraged at Amphimachus’ death, cut the head from the tender neck and, swinging it round, hurled it like a ball through the crowd. It fell in the dust before Hector’s feet.

Then Poseidon was angered to the depths of his heart at his grandson’s fall in the dreadful fighting. He went along the Achaeans’ huts and ships, rousing the Danaans and preparing grief for the Trojans.

Idomeneus, famed for his spear, met him as he came from a companion who had just been brought out of battle, wounded behind the knee by sharp bronze. His comrades had carried him in, and Idomeneus, after giving instructions to the healers, was going to his hut, still eager to face the battle. The lord who shakes the earth addressed him, taking the voice of Thoas son of Andraemon, who ruled the Aetolians throughout Pleuron and steep Calydon and was honored like a god among his people: “Idomeneus, counselor of the Cretans, where have those boasts gone, those threats the sons of the Achaeans hurled against the Trojans?”

Idomeneus, leader of the Cretans, answered him: “Thoas, no man is to blame now, so far as I can judge. We all know how to fight. No one is held by craven fear; no one shrinks from this evil war through faintheartedness. It must be the pleasure of the mighty son of Cronus that the Achaeans perish here without a name, far from Argos.

“But Thoas, you have always been steadfast in battle, and you urge on others whenever you see them falter. Do not stop now: call out to every man.” Then Poseidon the earth-shaker answered him: “Idomeneus, may the man who willingly holds back from fighting on this day never return from Troy, but remain here for the dogs to play with.

“Come, take up your armor and return here. We must hurry together, to see if even we two can be of some use. The combined courage even of poor fighters has its worth, and we two know how to fight against the brave.”

With these words the god went back into the toil of men. When Idomeneus reached his well-built hut, he put his splendid armor about his body, took up two spears, and set out like the lightning that the son of Cronus seizes in his hand and shakes from shining Olympus, displaying a sign to mortals, its radiance blazing far and wide. So the bronze flashed about his breast as he ran.

His brave attendant Meriones met him while he was still near the hut, for he was going to fetch a bronze-tipped spear. Mighty Idomeneus spoke to him: “Meriones, son of Molus, swift of foot and dearest of my companions, why have you come away from the war and fighting?

“Are you wounded, and is a weapon’s point tormenting you? Or have you come with some message for me? I myself have no wish to sit in the huts, but to fight.” Wise Meriones answered him: “Idomeneus, counselor of the bronze-clad Cretans, I have come to fetch a spear, if you have one left in your hut. I broke the one I had when I struck the shield of overbearing Deiphobus.”

Idomeneus, leader of the Cretans, answered him: “If you wish, you will find not one spear but twenty-one, standing in my hut against the shining wall—Trojan spears, which I take from the men I kill. I do not care to fight standing far away from my enemies.

“That is why I have spears and bossed shields, helmets and brightly gleaming breastplates.” Wise Meriones answered him: “I too have many spoils from Trojans beside my hut and black ship, but they are not near enough to fetch.

“For I do not think I have forgotten my courage either. I take my stand among the foremost in battle, where men win glory, whenever the strife of war breaks out. Some other bronze-clad Achaean may fail to notice how I fight, but you yourself, I think, know well.”

Idomeneus, leader of the Cretans, answered him: “I know what courage is yours. Why must you speak of it? If all the best of us beside the ships were being chosen now for an ambush, where men’s courage is most clearly shown, there the coward and the brave man would be revealed. The coward’s color changes this way and that; his spirit will not let him sit still, but he shifts about and settles first on one foot, then the other, his heart pounding hard in his breast at the thought of death, his teeth chattering. But the brave man’s color does not change, nor does he feel great fear once he has taken his place in the ambush; he prays to join the bitter battle as soon as possible. Not even there could anyone find fault with your strength or your hands.

“For if you were struck by a missile or wounded in the fighting, the weapon would not fall on the back of your neck or in your back, but would meet your chest or belly as you pressed forward into the close combat of the foremost fighters.

“But come, let us no longer stand here talking of this like children, lest someone be angry beyond measure. Go into the hut and take a sturdy spear.” So he spoke, and Meriones, a match for swift Ares, quickly took a bronze-tipped spear from the hut and followed Idomeneus, intent on battle.

As Ares, scourge of mortals, goes to war, with his dear son Terror following beside him, strong and fearless, who puts even the steadfast warrior to flight, and the two arm themselves in Thrace to go among the Ephyrians or the great-hearted Phlegyans, yet do not listen to both peoples, but give victory to one—so Meriones and Idomeneus, leaders of men, went into battle clad in gleaming bronze.

Meriones was first to speak: “Son of Deucalion, where do you mean to enter the throng? On the right of the whole army, in the center, or on the left? Nowhere, I think, are the long-haired Achaeans so short of fighting.”

Idomeneus, leader of the Cretans, answered him: “There are others to defend the ships in the center: the two Ajaxes and Teucer, the best archer among the Achaeans and brave too in close combat. They will give Hector son of Priam his fill of fighting, however fiercely he charges, however strong he may be.

“Eager as he is to fight, he will find it a hard task to overcome their strength and invincible hands and burn the ships, unless the son of Cronus himself throws a blazing brand among the swift vessels.

“Great Ajax son of Telamon would give way to no man who is mortal, eats Demeter’s grain, and can be pierced by bronze and great stones. Not even to Achilles, breaker of men, would he yield in close combat; though in speed of foot there is no competing with him.

“But lead us toward the army’s left, so that we may learn at once whether we shall give glory to another, or another to us.” So he spoke, and Meriones, a match for swift Ares, led the way until they reached the place in the army where he had been told to go. When the Trojans saw Idomeneus, his strength like a flame, and his attendant with him in their richly wrought armor, they called to one another through the throng and all advanced against him. The battle joined around the sterns of the ships.

As when squalls rush under the shrill winds on a day when the dust lies thickest along the roads, and together they raise a great cloud of dust, so their battle came together. In their hearts they longed to kill one another through the throng with the sharp bronze.

The man-destroying battle bristled with the long, flesh-cleaving spears they held. Their eyes were dazzled by the bronze radiance of shining helmets, newly polished breastplates, and gleaming shields as the armies came together. Hard-hearted indeed would have been the man who could look on that suffering with pleasure and feel no grief.

Thus the two mighty sons of Cronus, divided in their purpose, were preparing bitter pain for the heroic warriors. Zeus wished victory for the Trojans and Hector, to honor swift-footed Achilles. He did not wish the Achaean army to perish utterly before Ilium, but sought to honor Thetis and her strong-hearted son.

Poseidon, meanwhile, came among the Argives and roused them, stealing secretly out of the gray sea. He resented their defeat by the Trojans and was fiercely angry with Zeus. Both were of one stock and the same parentage, but Zeus was born first and knew more.

So Poseidon shrank from helping openly, but always roused the army in secret, taking the likeness of a man. The two gods drew tight over both sides the rope of fierce strife and equal war, pulling against each other, a rope unbreakable and not to be loosened, which brought many men’s knees low.

Then Idomeneus, though his hair was streaked with gray, called to the Danaans and leapt upon the Trojans, putting them to flight. He killed Othryoneus, who had come from Cabesus and was staying in Troy. He had only lately arrived in pursuit of the glory of war and had asked for Cassandra, the fairest of Priam’s daughters, without a bride-price, promising a great deed: to drive the sons of the Achaeans from Troy against their will.

Old Priam had pledged his word and nodded his consent to give her, and Othryoneus fought trusting in that promise. Idomeneus aimed his shining spear at him and struck as he strode proudly forward. The bronze breastplate he wore did not save him; the spear lodged in the middle of his belly.

He fell with a crash, and Idomeneus exulted over him: “Othryoneus, I praise you above all mortal men, if you truly mean to accomplish all you promised Priam son of Dardanus, who promised you his daughter.

“We too could make you such a promise and fulfill it. We would bring the fairest of the daughters of Atreus’ son from Argos and give her to you in marriage, if you would join us in sacking the well-peopled city of Ilium.

“Come along, then, so that beside our seagoing ships we may settle the marriage terms. You will not find us hard bargainers over a bride-price.” With these words the hero Idomeneus dragged him by the foot through the fierce fighting. Asius came to defend him, on foot in front of his horses, which his attendant charioteer kept so close that their breath was always on his shoulders. He longed to strike Idomeneus, but Idomeneus struck first, driving his spear into his throat beneath the chin and forcing the bronze clean through.

He fell as an oak falls, or a white poplar, or a towering pine that carpenters cut down in the mountains with newly sharpened axes to make a ship’s timber. So he lay stretched before his horses and chariot, groaning and clutching the bloodstained dust.

His charioteer was stunned out of his senses. He did not dare turn the horses back to escape the enemy’s hands, and battle-loving Antilochus struck him squarely with his spear, piercing his body. The bronze breastplate he wore did not save him; the spear lodged in the middle of his belly.

Gasping, he fell from the well-made chariot, and Antilochus, son of great-hearted Nestor, drove the horses away from the Trojans to the well-greaved Achaeans. Deiphobus, grieving for Asius, came very close to Idomeneus and hurled his shining spear.

But Idomeneus saw it coming and dodged the bronze point, hiding beneath his round shield, which he carried, fashioned of oxhide and gleaming bronze and fitted with two crossbars. He crouched wholly beneath it, and the bronze spear flew over, though the shield rang harshly as the spear grazed it. Yet the weapon had not flown in vain from Deiphobus’ heavy hand: it struck Hypsenor son of Hippasus, shepherd of the people, in the liver beneath the midriff, and at once undid his knees.

Deiphobus exulted terribly, shouting aloud: “Asius does not lie unavenged! I think that even on his way to mighty Hades, keeper of the gates, he will rejoice in his heart, for I have given him a companion.”

So he spoke, and his boast brought grief to the Argives. Most of all it stirred the heart of warlike Antilochus; but, grieved though he was, he did not neglect his companion. He ran and stood over him, covering him with his shield.

Then two faithful companions, Mecisteus son of Echius and noble Alastor, stooped beneath him and carried him toward the hollow ships, groaning heavily. But Idomeneus did not slacken his great fury. He longed always either to cover some Trojan in the darkness of night or to fall with a crash himself, warding destruction from the Achaeans.

There was the hero Alcathous, dear son of Aesyetes, cherished by Zeus, and son-in-law of Anchises. He had married Hippodameia, the eldest of Anchises’ daughters, whom her father and honored mother loved deeply in their home. She excelled all girls of her age in beauty, skill, and understanding; therefore the finest man in broad Troy had married her. Now Poseidon subdued him beneath Idomeneus, casting a spell over his shining eyes and binding his splendid limbs. He could neither flee backward nor dodge aside, but stood motionless as a pillar or a tall, leafy tree while the hero Idomeneus stabbed him in the middle of the chest and tore the bronze tunic that had once kept destruction from his flesh. Now it gave a harsh cry as it split about the spear.

He fell with a crash, the spear fixed in his heart; its beating made even the butt of the spear quiver. Then mighty Ares released his strength. Idomeneus exulted terribly, shouting aloud: “Deiphobus, do we think it a fair exchange now—three men killed for one? You were boasting so loudly!

“Come, my fine fellow, stand against me yourself, and learn what sort of descendant of Zeus has come here. Zeus first fathered Minos, guardian of Crete; Minos in turn fathered the noble Deucalion, and Deucalion fathered me, ruler over many men in broad Crete. Now the ships have brought me here to be a curse to you, your father, and the rest of the Trojans.”

So he spoke, and Deiphobus pondered two courses: should he fall back and find some great-hearted Trojan to stand beside him, or try his strength alone? As he considered, it seemed better to go to Aeneas. He found him standing at the rear of the throng, for he was always angry with noble Priam, who gave him no honor among the warriors, brave though he was.

Standing close, he spoke these winged words: “Aeneas, counselor of the Trojans, now you must defend your brother-in-law, if the bond of kinship means anything to you. Come, let us defend Alcathous, your sister’s husband, who reared you in his house when you were little. Idomeneus, famed for his spear, has killed him.”

So he spoke, and stirred the heart within Aeneas’ breast. He went against Idomeneus, intent on battle. But fear did not seize Idomeneus as it might some pampered child; he stood his ground like a boar in the mountains, trusting in his strength, that waits in a lonely place for the noisy crowd of men advancing upon him. The bristles rise along his back, his eyes blaze with fire, and he sharpens his tusks, eager to fend off dogs and men. So Idomeneus, famed for his spear, stood firm and did not retreat before Aeneas as he hurried to the rescue. He called to his companions, looking toward Ascalaphus, Aphareus, Deipyrus, Meriones, and Antilochus, masters of the battle cry. Rousing them, he spoke these winged words: “Come, friends, and defend me, for I am alone. I greatly fear swift-footed Aeneas charging upon me. He is very strong at killing men in battle, and he has the flower of youth, the greatest strength of all.

“If only we were of the same age, with these hearts of ours, one of us would soon carry off a mighty victory.” So he spoke, and all of them, with a single purpose in their hearts, stood close beside him, their shields leaning against their shoulders.

On the other side Aeneas called to his companions, looking toward Deiphobus, Paris, and noble Agenor, who were leaders of the Trojans along with him. Their men followed, as sheep follow the ram from pasture to drink, and the shepherd rejoices in his heart. So Aeneas rejoiced in his breast when he saw the host of men following him.

They charged into close combat around Alcathous with their long spears. The bronze about their chests rang terribly as they aimed at one another through the throng. Two warriors above all the rest, Aeneas and Idomeneus, peers of Ares, sought to tear each other’s flesh with the pitiless bronze.

Aeneas was first to hurl his spear at Idomeneus, but he saw it coming and dodged the bronze point. Aeneas’ spear went quivering into the earth, having flown in vain from his strong hand.

Idomeneus struck Oenomaus in the middle of the belly, breaking through the hollow of his breastplate, and the bronze tore through his bowels. He fell in the dust and clutched the earth in his palm. Idomeneus pulled the long-shadowed spear from the corpse, but could no longer strip the rest of the splendid armor from his shoulders, for missiles pressed hard upon him.

His legs no longer had their old firmness for a charge, either to rush after his own spear or to dodge a weapon. So in close combat he held off the merciless day, but his feet could no longer carry him swiftly out of battle.

As he withdrew at a walk, Deiphobus hurled his shining spear at him, for he bore him an unrelenting grudge. But again he missed him, and struck Ascalaphus, son of Enyalius. The heavy spear went through his shoulder, and he fell in the dust and clutched the earth in his palm.

But mighty Ares of the great war cry had not yet heard that his son had fallen in the fierce fighting. He sat on the summit of Olympus beneath golden clouds, held there by the will of Zeus, where the other immortal gods too were kept away from battle.

They charged into close combat around Ascalaphus. Deiphobus snatched the shining helmet from his head, but Meriones, a match for swift Ares, sprang forward and struck him in the arm with his spear. The crested helmet fell from his hand and rang against the ground.

Meriones sprang forward again like a vulture, pulled his mighty spear from the upper arm, and fell back among his comrades. Polites, the wounded man’s own brother, clasped him about the waist and led him out of the clamorous battle until he reached his swift horses, which stood behind the fighting with his charioteer and richly wrought chariot. They bore him toward the city, groaning heavily in his pain, while blood streamed from his newly wounded arm.

The others fought on, and an unquenchable uproar rose. Then Aeneas leapt at Aphareus, son of Caletor, and struck him in the throat with his sharp spear as he turned to face him. His head drooped to one side, his shield and helmet fell upon him, and death that breaks the spirit poured around him.

Antilochus watched Thoon turn, rushed upon him, and struck, severing the whole vein that runs up the back and reaches through to the neck. Clean through he cut it, and Thoon fell backward in the dust, stretching both arms toward his dear companions.

Antilochus sprang forward and began stripping the armor from his shoulders, glancing about him. The Trojans surrounded him and thrust from every side at his broad, gleaming shield, yet could not graze the tender flesh beneath with their pitiless bronze. For Poseidon the Earth-shaker guarded Nestor’s son even amid that shower of weapons.

He never stood apart from the enemy, but moved continually among them. Nor did his spear rest idle: it was always brandished and wheeling, as he sought in his heart either to hurl it at someone or to charge into close combat.

But his movements through the throng did not escape Adamas, son of Asius, who rushed in close and struck the middle of his shield with sharp bronze. Dark-haired Poseidon robbed the spearhead of its strength, grudging Adamas his life.

One half remained there in Antilochus’s shield like a stake hardened in the fire, while the other lay upon the ground. Adamas fell back among his comrades, seeking to escape death; but Meriones followed him as he withdrew and struck him with his spear between the genitals and the navel, where Ares brings the sharpest agony to suffering mortals.

There he drove the spear home. Adamas doubled over it and writhed like a bull that herdsmen in the mountains bind with twisted ropes and drag away by force against its will. So he writhed beneath the blow, but only briefly, not for long, until the warrior Meriones came close and pulled the spear from his flesh. Then darkness covered his eyes.

Helenus struck Deipyrus at close quarters on the temple with a great Thracian sword and smashed his helmet off. Knocked aside, it fell to the ground, and one of the Achaeans picked it up as it rolled among the fighters’ feet. But murky night covered Deipyrus’s eyes.

Grief seized Atreus’s son Menelaus, mighty in the war cry. Brandishing his sharp spear, he advanced with threats against the warrior king Helenus, who drew back the curve of his bow. Together they aimed, one to cast his sharp spear, the other to loose an arrow from the string.

Priam’s son struck him with his arrow on the breast, in the hollow of his breastplate, but the bitter arrow sprang away. As dark beans or chickpeas leap from a broad winnowing shovel on a great threshing floor beneath the shrill breeze and the sweep of the winnower’s hand, so the bitter arrow glanced far away from glorious Menelaus’s breastplate.

But Atreus’s son Menelaus, mighty in the war cry, struck the hand that held the polished bow. The bronze spear drove straight through the hand and into the bow. Helenus fell back among his comrades, seeking to escape death, his hand hanging at his side and the ash spear trailing after him.

Great-hearted Agenor drew the spear from his hand and bound the wound with a sling of tightly twisted sheep’s wool, which an attendant carried for him, the shepherd of his people. Meanwhile Peisander advanced straight at glorious Menelaus. An evil fate was leading him toward death, to fall beneath your hands, Menelaus, in the dreadful fighting.

When they had come close in their advance upon each other, Atreus’s son missed, and his spear swerved aside. Peisander struck glorious Menelaus’s shield, but could not drive the bronze clean through. The broad shield held it back, and the spear broke at the socket. Yet he rejoiced in his heart and hoped for victory.

Atreus’s son drew his silver-studded sword and sprang at Peisander, who took from beneath his shield a fine bronze axe mounted on a long, smooth olivewood handle. Together they struck at one another.

Peisander hit the ridge of the horsehair helmet, at its very top beneath the crest; Menelaus struck his advancing foe on the forehead above the bridge of the nose. The bones cracked, and both his bloody eyes fell at his feet in the dust. He crumpled as he fell. Menelaus planted his heel upon his chest, stripped off his armor, and spoke in triumph: “So this is how you will leave the ships of the swift-horsed Danaans, you arrogant Trojans, never sated with the dreadful din of war! You had no lack of other shame and outrage—the outrage you heaped upon me, you vile dogs! In your hearts you felt no fear of the terrible wrath of loud-thundering Zeus, guardian of guests, who will one day destroy your lofty city. You carried off my wedded wife and many treasures without a thought, though you had been welcomed in her home. And now you hunger to cast consuming fire upon our seagoing ships and kill the Achaean warriors.

“Yet somewhere you will be checked, for all your eagerness for war. Father Zeus, they say that you surpass all others in wisdom, gods and men alike; yet all this comes from you. How you favor these insolent men, these Trojans, whose fury is forever reckless, who can never have their fill of strife and war that spares neither side!

“There is a limit to everything—to sleep and love, to sweet singing and faultless dancing, things whose pleasures a man would far rather satisfy than his hunger for war. But the Trojans can never have enough of battle.”

So spoke noble Menelaus. He stripped the bloodstained armor from the body and gave it to his comrades, then went back to mingle with the foremost fighters. There Harpalion, son of King Pylaemenes, sprang at him. He had followed his dear father to Troy to fight, but never returned to his native land. Now he thrust his spear at close quarters into the middle of Atreus’s son’s shield, but could not drive the bronze through. He fell back among his comrades, seeking to escape death, looking all about him lest someone touch his flesh with bronze.

As he withdrew, Meriones loosed a bronze-tipped arrow and struck him in the right buttock. The arrow passed straight through beneath the bone and pierced his bladder. He sank down there in his dear comrades’ arms, breathing out his life, and lay stretched upon the earth like a worm. Dark blood flowed out and soaked the ground.

The great-hearted Paphlagonians gathered about him, lifted him into a chariot, and bore him sorrowfully toward sacred Ilium. His father walked beside them, shedding tears; but no vengeance came for his dead son.

Paris was deeply angered at his death, for Harpalion had been his guest-friend among the many Paphlagonians. In anger for him he loosed a bronze-tipped arrow. Now there was a man named Euchenor, son of the seer Polyidus, wealthy and brave, whose home was in Corinth. He had boarded his ship knowing well the deadly fate before him. For good old Polyidus had often told him that he must either die of a grievous sickness in his own halls or be slain by the Trojans beside the Achaean ships. Thus he had avoided both the heavy fine the Achaeans would exact and the hateful sickness, that he might not suffer anguish in his heart.

Paris struck him beneath the jaw and ear. Swiftly his spirit left his limbs, and hateful darkness seized him. So they fought like blazing fire. But Hector, dear to Zeus, had heard nothing and did not know that on the left of the ships his men were being cut down by the Argives. Soon victory might even have gone to the Achaeans, so powerfully did the Earth-holder, the Earth-shaker, urge the Argives on and aid them with his own strength. But Hector held to the place where he had first leapt through the gates and over the wall, breaking the close-packed ranks of Danaan shield-bearers. There the ships of Ajax and Protesilaus had been drawn up on the shore of the gray sea, and above them the wall had been built at its lowest, where men and horses were fighting most fiercely.

There the Boeotians and long-robed Ionians, the Locrians, Phthians, and splendid Epeians struggled to hold him back as he charged the ships, but could not drive glorious Hector, like a flame, away from them. The picked men of Athens were there, led by Menestheus, son of Peteos, with Pheidas, Stichius, and brave Bias beside him. The Epeians were led by Meges, son of Phyleus, and Amphion and Dracius; and at the head of the Phthians stood Medon and Podarces, steadfast in battle.

Medon was the bastard son of godlike Oileus and brother of Ajax. He lived in Phylace, far from his native land, because he had killed a kinsman of his stepmother Eriopis, Oileus’s wife. Podarces was the son of Iphiclus, the son of Phylacus.

These two, armed at the head of the great-hearted Phthians, fought beside the Boeotians in defense of the ships. And swift Ajax, son of Oileus, no longer stood apart from Ajax, son of Telamon, even for an instant. As two wine-dark oxen in a fallow field draw a stout plow with equal spirit, and sweat streams around the roots of their horns, while only the polished yoke divides them as they strain along the furrow and the plow cuts through the field—so the two stood close beside each other.

But Telamon’s son was followed by many brave companions, who took his shield from him whenever weariness and sweat overcame his knees. No Locrians followed great-hearted Oileus’s son, for they had no heart for standing combat. They had no bronze helmets with horsehair crests, no round shields or ash spears; instead they had followed him to Ilium trusting in bows and slings of tightly twisted sheep’s wool. With these they shot thick and fast and broke the Trojan ranks. So the men in front fought the Trojans and bronze-helmed Hector in their richly wrought armor, while those behind shot unseen. The Trojans lost their appetite for battle, for the missiles threw them into confusion.

Then the Trojans would have fallen back in misery from the ships and huts toward windy Ilium, had not Polydamas come up to bold Hector and said: “Hector, there is no persuading you to listen to advice.

“Because a god has granted you surpassing skill in war, you think you must surpass all others in counsel too. But you cannot claim every gift for yourself. To one man a god gives skill in war, to another dancing, to another the lyre and song; and in another’s breast far-seeing Zeus places sound judgment, from which many men draw benefit. Such a man saves many lives, and knows its worth himself better than anyone.

“But I will tell you what seems best to me. Everywhere around you the ring of battle blazes. Now that the great-hearted Trojans have crossed the wall, some stand aside with their armor, while others, scattered among the ships, fight outnumbered.

“Draw back and summon all our best men here. Then we can consider the whole plan: whether to fall upon the many-benched ships, if the god is willing to grant us victory, or instead withdraw from the ships unharmed. For I fear the Achaeans may repay yesterday’s debt. Beside their ships there waits a man insatiable in war, and I do not think he will keep clear of battle much longer.”

So spoke Polydamas, and his prudent counsel pleased Hector. At once he leapt in his armor from his chariot to the ground and addressed him with winged words: “Polydamas, keep all our best men here. I will go over there and face the fighting, and return quickly once I have given them clear commands.”

With that he set off, towering like a snow-covered mountain, shouting as he sped through the Trojans and their allies. And they all hurried toward noble Polydamas, son of Panthous, when they heard Hector’s voice.

Meanwhile Hector ranged among the foremost fighters, searching for Deiphobus, mighty King Helenus, Adamas son of Asius, and Asius son of Hyrtacus, to see if he could find them. But he would no longer find them all unharmed and alive: some lay beside the sterns of the Achaean ships, their lives taken by Argive hands, while others were within the walls, struck and wounded.

Soon, on the left of the tearful battle, he found godlike Alexander, husband of lovely-haired Helen, heartening his companions and urging them to fight. He stood close beside him and spoke in bitter reproach: “Accursed Paris, fair of face, woman-mad deceiver! Where are Deiphobus and mighty King Helenus, Adamas son of Asius, and Asius son of Hyrtacus?

“And where is Othryoneus? Now lofty Ilium is utterly destroyed, from top to bottom! Now your own sheer ruin is assured.” Godlike Alexander answered him: “Hector, since your heart drives you to blame the blameless, some other day you may find me more inclined to shrink from war, for my mother did not bear me wholly without courage. Ever since you roused our comrades to battle beside the ships, we have stayed here and fought the Danaans without respite. But the comrades you ask about are dead.

“Only Deiphobus and mighty King Helenus have withdrawn, both wounded in the hand by long spears; but the son of Cronus kept death from them. Now lead wherever your heart and spirit bid you. We will follow eagerly, and I say there will be no lack of courage in us, so far as our strength allows.

“But no man can fight beyond his strength, however eager he may be.” With these words the warrior turned his brother’s heart. They went to where the battle and strife were fiercest, around Cebriones and noble Polydamas, Phalces and Orthaeus and godlike Polyphetes, Palmys, Ascanius, and Morys, son of Hippotion. These last had come as reinforcements from fertile Ascania the morning before; now Zeus stirred them to battle.

They advanced like a storm of violent winds that sweeps down upon the earth beneath Father Zeus’s thunder and strikes the sea with a tremendous roar. The waves of the loud-resounding sea rise seething, arched and white with foam, rank behind rank. So the Trojans followed their leaders, rank behind close-knit rank, flashing with bronze.

Hector, son of Priam, led them like Ares, the destroyer of men. Before him he held his well-rounded shield, thick with hides and plated heavily with bronze; around his temples his shining helmet tossed.

He advanced and tested the ranks on every side, to see whether they would give way before him as he strode forward under cover of his shield. But he could not shake the courage in the Achaeans’ breasts. Ajax was the first to challenge him, striding far out: “Come closer, madman! Why try to frighten the Argives for nothing? We are not ignorant of war: it is the cruel lash of Zeus that has brought us Achaeans low.

“No doubt your heart hopes to plunder our ships. But we too have hands ready to defend them. Long before that, your own well-peopled city may fall and be sacked by our hands.

“And I tell you, the hour is near when you yourself will flee and pray to Father Zeus and the other immortals that your lovely-maned horses may be swifter than hawks as they carry you toward the city, raising dust across the plain.”

As he spoke, a bird flew past on his right, a high-soaring eagle, and the Achaean army shouted, heartened by the omen. Glorious Hector answered: “Ajax, blundering braggart, you great ox, what a speech! Would that I were as surely the son of aegis-bearing Zeus for all my days, with queenly Hera for my mother, and honored as Athena and Apollo are honored, as surely as this day will bring disaster upon every Argive! And you will be killed among them, if you dare to stand against my long spear. It will tear your lily-white flesh, and, fallen beside the Achaean ships, you will glut the Trojans’ dogs and birds with your fat and flesh.”

With these words he led the way. They followed with a tremendous roar, and the army behind raised its shout. From the other side the Argives shouted back. They did not forget their courage, but stood awaiting the charge of the Trojans’ best.

The clamor of both armies reached the high air and the radiance of Zeus.