Dawn rose from her bed beside noble Tithonus,
bringing light to mortals and immortals alike,
and Zeus swiftly sent deadly Strife to the Achaean
ships, an omen of war in her hands. She stood
by Odysseus’ hollow, black ship in the middle
of the fleet so she could shout to both sides,
from Telamonian Ajax’s tents to those of Achilles,
for they drew their ships at the extreme ends,
trusting the bravery and courage of their hands.
The goddess stood there and uttered a great
and terrible shriek, filling each Achaean heart
with the strength to battle without pause. Battle,
for these men, was sweeter than a trip home
in their swift ships to their dear father’s lands.

The son of Atreus shouted for the Argives
to gird for battle, and he donned his bronze
armor. First, he fixed to his legs beautiful
greaves with fine silver fastenings; then he
put on his chest a breastplate once given
to him as a guest-gift by Cinyras, for in far-
away Cyprus he heard the rumor that
the Achaeans were about to sail to Troy,
so he gave the breastplate to the king as a gift.
Upon this plate were ten stripes of dark
cobalt, twelve of gold, and twenty of tin,
and near the neck were cobalt serpents, three
on each side, like the rainbows fixed to clouds
by the son of Cronos, omens for mortal men.
Over his shoulder he slung a sword with studs
of glittering gold that was sheathed in a silver
scabbard and joined with a golden baldric.
He then seized an elaborate, all-enclosing
shield, a beautiful thing with ten bronze circles,
twenty tin bosses all gleaming white, a cobalt
boss set in the center, and a grim-looking
Gorgon on its crown, a horror to behold;
and around it were Fear and Panic. The shield
was held by a silver baldric, and on it was
a cobalt serpent with three heads twisting
around and growing from a single neck.
On his head he set a helmet with two ridges,
four bosses, and a horsehair plume bobbing
proudly above it. He seized two stout spears
with bronze tips so sharp that they shone far up
into heaven, and Athena and Hera thundered
in honor of the king of gold-rich Mycenae.

Then each man ordered his driver to again
rein in the horses by the trench, while they
themselves, in full armor, rushed to the fray
with a cry that rang out across the early dawn.
They were lined up along the trench ahead
of the charioteers who followed closely behind.
And Cronos’ son let stir an evil roar and rained
down bloody dewdrops from above, for he was
set to send many strong men down to Hades.

On the other side, at the plain’s edge, the Trojans
gathered around great Hector, noble Polydamas,
and Aeneas, honored as a god by the Trojans,
as well as Antenor’s three sons: Polybus, noble
Agenor, and young Acamas, peer of the gods.
In the forefront Hector carried his perfect
shield. Just as a deadly star^[1] shines bright
among the clouds and then sinks into darkness,
so Hector’s bronze flashed like lightning
bolts from aegis-wielding Zeus as he stood
among the forefront and urged on the hindmost.

Just as reapers advancing from opposite sides
drive their lines across a wealthy man’s field
of wheat or barley, thick armfuls falling fast,
so the Trojans and Achaeans sprang and slew
each other, neither side mindful of deadly fear.
Their lines stayed equal in battle, they raged
like wolves, and Strife looked on and rejoiced.
She was the only immortal present for the battle,
for the other gods were seated comfortably
in their halls among the clefts of Olympus
where grand homes had been built for each.
All blamed Cronos’ son, lord of the black clouds,
for it was his wish to give glory to the Trojans.
But Zeus paid no heed, sitting apart from others,
rejoicing in his glory, looking down on the city
of Troy and on the Achaean ships, on the clash
of bronze, and on the killers and the killed.

As long as the sacred light of day grew stronger,
the spears struck and killed men on both sides.
But at the time of day when a woodcutter prepares
his meal in a mountain glen, his hands sore
from felling tall trees, his heart grown weary,
and his mind seized with a desire for sweet bread,
then the valiant Danaans broke ranks, calling
to their comrades through the lines. Agamemnon
was first to attack, slaying Bienor, herder of men,
and his comrade Oïleus, smiter of horses. Oïleus
sprang down from his chariot to meet the enemy,
but as he charged, Agamemnon’s sharp spear
struck his forehead, passed through the heavy,
bronze helmet and into the bone, and spattered
his brains, and in fury he was slain. And lord
of men Agamemnon stripped their tunics, left
them there with gleaming chests, and went to slay
Isus and Antiphus, two sons of Priam, one
a bastard, the other born in wedlock, and both
in the same chariot; the bastard was the charioteer,
but famed Antiphus was beside him. Achilles once
caught them as they tended sheep on the spurs
of Ida, bound them with willows, and freed them
for ransom. But now wide-ruling Agamemnon
speared Isus in the chest near the nipple and hit
Antiphus near the ear with his sword, driving him
off his chariot. He quickly stripped their fine armor
for he remembered seeing them near the swift ships
when swift-footed Achilles brought them from Ida.
Just as a lion easily seizes a swift deer’s fawn
and devours it with his mighty fangs after invading
its lair, taking its tender life away, while nearby
the mother is unable to help for she is trembling
with terror, moving quickly through the dense
thickets and woods, and sweating as she hurries
away from the mighty beast’s attack, so too were
the Trojans unable to ward off their deaths,
for they themselves had fled from the Argives.

Then he took Peisander and stout Hippolochus,
sons of skilled Antimachus, who accepted golden
gifts from Alexander in exchange for opposing
the return of Helen to tawny-haired Menelaus.
Lord Agamemnon slew his two sons, who were
in one chariot trying to control their swift horses,
for the shining reins had slipped from their hands
and the horses had gone wild. Atreus’ son rushed
them like a lion, and they pleaded with him:
“Capture us, son of Atreus, and gain a rich
ransom, for treasures of bronze, gold, and well-
worked iron lie in the house of Antimachus.
Our father will grant you countless ransoms
if he learns we are alive by the Achaean ships.”

So they spoke these pleasing words to the king,
but Agamemnon’s reply was not so pleasant:
“If you are the sons of skilled Antimachus, who
once urged the Trojan assembly to kill Menelaus
and godlike Odysseus, who were there as envoys,
and not allow them to return to the Achaeans,
then you will now pay for your father’s outrage.”

So saying, he speared Peisander in his chest,
driving him from his chariot and onto the earth.
Hippolochus leapt down but Agamemnon’s sword
sliced off both his arms and his head, and he fell
to the ground and rolled like a log into the throng.
The king left them there and went where the line
was weakest, and the other Achaeans followed.
Then footmen killed fleeing footmen, horsemen
killed horsemen, and the hooves of thundering
horses stirred dust on the plain. They killed
with bronze and mighty Agamemnon led
the way, urging the Argives forward. Just as
a furious fire falls on a thick timbered land,
the rolling wind carrying it everywhere as
the shrubs are uprooted in the fire’s assault,
so the heads of fleeing Trojans fell before
Agamemnon as many high-necked horses
rattled empty chariots over the battlefield,
yearning for their noble masters who were lying
on the earth, a delight for vultures, not for wives.

Zeus led Hector away from the spears, dust,
slaughter, blood, and noise, but Atreus’ son
followed, urging the Danaans onward. Past
the grave of ancient Ilus, son of Dardanus,
past the plain and wild fig tree, and to the city
they ran, pursued by a shouting Agamemnon,
his invincible hands wet with gore. But when
they reached the Scaean gates and oak tree,
the two armies stopped and waited. Others
on the plain scattered like cattle in the dead
of night when lions attack a terrified herd,
though utter death comes for only one; the lion
first snaps her neck with its mighty fangs
and then gulps down the blood and entrails.
So lord Agamemnon, son of Atreus, chased
the throng and slayed the fleeing stragglers.
Many were hurled face-first from their chariots
by the hands of spear-raging Agamemnon.
But as he reached the city’s fortified walls,
the father of gods and men, Zeus, came down
from heaven and sat on the peak of Ida, rich
in springs, a thunderbolt in his hands, and he
sent golden-winged Iris to deliver a message:
“Go quickly, Iris, and tell Hector these words:
so long as he sees Agamemnon, herder of men,
rushing to the front-lines and slaying soldiers,
he should hold back and order other men to fight
the enemy in combat. But once Agamemnon
is struck with a spear or an arrow and leaps
to his chariot, then I will grant Hector mastery
over death until he reaches the well-benched
ships and the sun sets and darkness descends.”

So he said, and swift-footed Iris obeyed,
racing down from Ida to sacred Ilios
to find noble Hector, son of wise Priam,
standing by the joined chariots and horses;
and swift-footed Iris came to him and said:
“Hector, son of Priam, equal to Zeus in counsel,
father Zeus has sent me to tell you these words:
As long as you see Agamemnon, herder of men,
rushing to the front-lines and slaying soldiers,
you should hold back and order other men to fight
the enemy in combat. But once Agamemnon
is struck with a spear or an arrow and leaps
to his chariot, then I will grant you mastery
over death until you reach the well-benched
ships and the sun sets and darkness descends.”

So swift Iris said and went away. Then Hector,
wielding two sharp spears, leapt from the chariot
to the ground and went through the army urging
his men to fight and waking the cruel cries of war.
So they wheeled round and faced the Achaeans,
and the Argives strengthened their battle-lines.
The two sides were set, and Agamemnon was
first to charge, eager to fight ahead of the rest.

Tell me, Muses whose homes are on Olympus,
who was the first to fight against Agamemnon,
either from the Trojans or their famed allies.

First was brave and tall Iphidamas, Antenor’s
son, born in fertile Thrace, mother of flocks.
Cisseus, his grandfather and father of fair-cheeked
Theano, raised him in his house, but when
he came of age, Cisseus tried to hold him
by offering his daughter, but once wed he left
his bride to seek glory against the Achaeans,
and twelve curved-beak ships followed him.
He left his well-balanced ships at Percote
and came on foot to Ilios, and now it was he
who faced Agamemnon. When they closed
on one another, Atreus’ son threw his spear,
but it was turned aside, and Iphidamas stabbed
his belt below the breastplate, trusting his heavy
hands to lance the skin; but he could not
pierce the dappled belt, for the spear’s tip hit
the silver and bent back like lead. Wide-ruling
Agamemnon then seized the spear like a lion,
pulled it out of Iphidamas’ hands, and sliced
his neck with a sword. Iphidamas went limp
and fell into the bronze sleep of death—
all in aid of his people and far from his wife,
who had given him no joy but had cost him much:
a hundred cattle and a promise of a thousand
goats and sheep from among his countless herd.
Then Agamemnon stripped him of his armor
and carried it back through the Achaean throng.

But when Coön, renowned fighter and Antenor’s
eldest son, saw him, a mighty sorrow shrouded
his eyes for his fallen brother. He stood to one
side, unnoticed by Agamemnon, and speared
the king in the arm, just below the elbow,
and the shining spear point passed clean through.
Agamemnon, lord of men, shuddered with pain
but did not stop fighting with his wind-swept spear.
He leapt on Coön, who was eagerly dragging
his brother Iphidamas, born of the same father,
away by the foot and calling to all the best men.
The son of Atreus hit him with a spear held under
his embossed shield, and Coön’s limbs fell limp.
Stepping over Iphidamas’ corpse, Agamemnon
severed Coön’s head, fulfilling the fate of Antenor’s
sons, and they went to the house of Hades.

Agamemnon ranged over the ranks of fighting
men with his spear, sword, and stones while
hot blood gushed from his wound. But once
the wound dried and the blood no longer
flowed, sharp pain began to sap his strength.
Just as sharp missiles pierce a woman in labor,
missiles sent by Eileithyiae, Hera’s daughter
who bring sharp pains, so sharp pains sank
into mighty Atreus’ son. So he jumped back
onto his chariot and ordered the charioteer
to drive to the hollow ships, for his heart
was weak. And he cried out to the Danaans:
“My friends, chiefs and rulers of the Argives,
you must keep the dreaded din of battle away
from the seafaring ships, for counselor Zeus does
not allow me to fight all day against the Trojans.”

So saying, the driver whipped the fair-maned horses
back to the hollow ships, and they did not disobey;
with foam-covered chests and dust-stained bellies,
they carried their injured king away from battle.

Seeing Agamemnon departing, Hector called
to the Trojans and Lycians with a great shout:
“Trojans, Lycians, and Dardanian fighters, be
men, my friends, and remember your eager spirits.
Their leader has gone, and Zeus has granted me
great glory; so drive your single-hoofed horses
against the valiant Danaans and win high honor.”

So he said, stirring each man’s strength and spirit.
As when a hunter sets his white-toothed dogs
on a wild boar or a lion, so great-hearted Hector,
Priam’s son and equal to Ares, destroyer of men,
set the great-hearted Trojans on the Achaeans.
With high hopes, Hector went to the front lines
and dove into battle like a whirling wind
that rushes down and stirs the violet sea.

Who was first and who last to be slain by Hector,
Priam’s son, once Zeus granted him glory?
First was Asaeus, and then Autonous, Opites,
and Dolops, son of Clytius, Orpheltius, Agelaus,
Aesymnus, Orus, and staunch fighter Hipponous.
He slew these Danaan chiefs and then a throng
of men. Just as the West Wind strikes the clouds
of the white South Wind and brings a rising
storm that drives huge, rolling waves and shoots
foam high into the rush of the wandering wind,
so too did Hector fell the heads of many men.

Then deadly deeds beyond repair might have
been done and the Achaeans might have fled back
to their ships had Odysseus not said to Diomedes:
“Son of Tydeus, where did our rushing rage go?
Come and stand with me, for dishonor will be
ours if flashing-helmed Hector takes our ships.”

Then mighty Diomedes answered him, saying:
“Of course I will stay and fight, but our edge
will not last long since cloud-gatherer Zeus
wants to give victory to the Trojans, not to us.”

So saying, he stuck his spear in the left breast
of Thymbraeus and pushed him off his horses
as Odysseus slew Molion, the king’s attendant.
They left them lying there and joined the battle-
throng to cause further chaos. Like two ravenous
boars rushing on hunting dogs, they turned
back to the Trojans and killed them, briefly
halting the Achaean retreat from noble Hector.

Then they seized a chariot and two great men,
sons of Merops of Percote, the finest soothsayer
among men, who forbade his boys from going
to war, the destroyer of men; but they did not
obey, for the agents of black death led them on.
So spear-famed Diomedes robbed them of life
and spirit and took away their glorious armor,
and Odysseus slew Hippodamus and Hypeirochus.

Looking down from Ida, Cronos’ son tightened
the battle lines, and the warriors kept on killing.
Next the son of Tydeus speared Agastrophus,
heroic son of Paeon, on the hip-joint; but he
was unable to flee, for he foolishly left behind
his horses and attendant and rushed on foot
among the foremost until he lost his dear life.
Hector saw this clearly from across the ranks
and charged at them with a cry, and the Trojan
battalions followed. Seeing him, war-crier
Diomedes shuddered and said to Odysseus:
“Mighty Hector is barreling down upon us;
but come, let us stand here and ward him off.”

Saying this, he aimed and shot a long-shadowed
spear and did not miss, striking Hector’s helmet;
but the bronze of the three-layered, hollow-eyed
helmet, given to him by Phoebus Apollo, deflected
the bronze spear and protected his fair flesh.
Then Hector ran back, mixed with the throng,
fell to his knees, and stayed there, his stout hands
leaning on the earth and darkness covering his eyes.
While Diomedes went through the front fighters
to reclaim his spear that was lodged in the earth,
Hector revived, rushed to his chariot and returned
to the fray, shunning a black fate. And mighty
Diomedes rushed at him with his spear and cried:
“Once more you cheated death, dog; you came
close to ruin only to be saved again by Phoebus
Apollo, whose prayers you must seek before facing
the din of spears. When I meet you next, I will end
you, should one of the gods defend me as well.
For now I will go after others, whoever I reach.”

So saying, he stripped Paeon’s spear-famed son.
But Alexander, husband of fair-haired Helen,
aimed his bow at Tydeus’ son, herder of men,
leaning on a pillar on the mound made by men’s
hands for Ilus, Dardanus’ son, an ancient elder.
Diomedes was taking Agastrophus’ breastplate
from his chest, the shield from his shoulder,
and the strong helmet from his head when Paris
drew his bow and fired his arrow; and the shot
was not in vain, for it hit the flat of his right foot
and drove through and into the ground. Paris
then leapt from his hiding spot, laughed, and said:
“My shot was not in vain for you are struck,
but I wish I had hit your flank and taken your life
and given a break to the Trojans who shudder
before you like bleating goats before a lion.”

Unafraid, mighty Diomedes answered him:
“Filthy bowman, curly-haired seducer of women,
if you tried to fight me one-on-one in full armor,
then your bow and fast arrows would be no help;
yet you now boast of grazing the flat of my foot.
It feels like I was struck by a woman or dumb
child, for a dart is the blunt tool of a weak, useless
man. But a spear from my hands, even if struck
lightly, would quickly take a man’s life, fill his wife’s
cheeks with tears, and leave his children fatherless
while he rots away, his blood staining the earth,
and more birds swarming him than women.”

So saying, he went and stood beside spear-famed
Odysseus, who knelt and plucked the swift arrow
from his foot, and a great pain filled his flesh.
Then he leapt on his chariot and told his driver
to return to the hollow ships, his heart in pain.

Odysseus, famed for his spear, was left alone,
for no Argives were near, fear having taken them
all. Sorely troubled, he spoke to his great heart:
“What is to become of me? It would be
a great evil to flee from the throng, but it
would be worse to be taken alone, for Cronos’
son has scattered the other Danaans. But why
am I debating these things? I know cowards
flee from battle, but a hero must boldly stand
his ground, whether he is hit or is the one hitting.”

While he considered these things in his mind
and heart, many shield-bearing Trojans closed
in around him, thus sealing their deadly fates.
Just as dogs and strong young men rush a boar
as it emerges from a thick woods, grinding
the white tusks in his bent jaw, and as they attack,
they hear the terrifying noise of these tusks,
but they face him all the same, so too did
the Trojans quickly circle Odysseus, dear
to Zeus. First he hurled his spear and struck
noble Deïopites above the shoulder; then he
slew Thoön and Ennomus. Next he speared
Chersidamas in the navel, below the bossed
shield, as he leapt from his chariot; he then hit
the dust and clutched the earth with his hands.
He left them all behind and speared Charops,
son of Hippasus and brother of wealthy Socus.
And to his aid came godlike Socus, who came
and stood near Odysseus and said to him:
“Glorious Odysseus, insatiable mischief-maker,
today you will either revel in killing both sons
of Hippasus and stripping their armor
or be struck with my spear and lose your life.”

So saying, he stuck Odysseus’ perfect shield.
The mighty spear drove through the bright
shield, forced its way into his dappled breastplate,
and severed the skin along his ribs, but Pallas
Athena did not allow it to pierce his entrails.
Odysseus knew he had not met a fatal end,
so he drew back and spoke to Socus, saying:
“Luckless one, utter ruin surely has caught you.
You stopped me from fighting Trojans, but I say
that death and black fate will come for you today,
for when I kill you with my spear, I will gain glory
and you will fall to Hades of the splendid steeds.”

Socus quickly turned to flee, but as he turned
Odysseus stuck his spear in his back between
the shoulders and drove it through his chest;
he fell with a thud, and Odysseus taunted him:
“Socus, son of skilled horse-tamer Hippasus,
death has caught you before you could escape.
Poor fool, your father and revered mother will
not close your eyes in death, for birds will beat
their wings as they tear your flesh, but if I die,
the noble Achaeans will bury me with honor.”

Then he pulled the mighty spear of skilled
Socus out of his flesh and his bossed shield
as blood gushed forth, troubling his heart.
The great-hearted Trojans saw Odysseus
bleeding, called to each other, and attacked
en masse. But he backed away and called
his comrades.Three times Odysseus shouted
at full volume, and three times Menelaus
heard his call, and he said to nearby Ajax:
“Ajax, sprung from Zeus, son of Telamon,
lord of men, steadfast Odysseus’ cries ring
round me, as if he is all alone, surrounded
and overwhelmed by fierce-fighting Trojans.
So let us enter the fray and defend him. I fear
for him alone against the Trojans, for he is
brave and would be a great loss to the Danaans.”

So saying, he took the lead, and godlike Ajax
followed. Soon they found Odysseus surrounded
by Trojans. Think of tawny jackals around
a wounded mountain stag that has been hit
with an arrow; the stag can quickly escape
so long as his blood is warm and his knees
limber, but when the quick arrow eventually kills
him, the jackals eat his raw flesh in the shady
mountain glen until some god brings a ravenous
lion, and the jackals flee and the lion feasts.
In this way did many brave Trojans surround
wise, crafty Odysseus, but he darted about
with his spear and warded off his fated day.
When Ajax and his tower-like shield came
and stood beside him, the Trojans scattered.
Then Menelaus led Odysseus from battle
and held his hand until the chariot arrived.

Then Ajax sprang on the Trojans and slew
Doryclus, Priam’s bastard son, followed
by Pandocus, Lysander, Pyrasus, and Pylartes.
As when a flooding river flows into a plain
from the mountains after a winter storm,
bringing the rains of Zeus, carrying dried oak
and pine trees, and drawing mud into the sea,
so famed Ajax drove wildly over the plain,
cleaving horses and men alike. But Hector
knew none of this, for he fought on the far
left by the river Scamander, where the heads
of the best men fell fastest and great cries
arose around Nestor and warlike Idomeneus.
Hector was engaged there, using his spear
and chariot to wipe out battalions of men.
But these noble Achaeans would not have given
ground had Alexander, fair-haired Helen’s
husband, not halted Machaon, herder of men,
hitting his right shoulder with a three-barbed
arrow. The fury-breathing Achaeans feared
for him lest the tide turn against him in battle.
So Idomeneus quickly said to noble Nestor:
“Nestor, son of Neleus, honored Achaean,
mount your chariot and let Machaon board
beside you, and then drive quickly to the ships,
for a healer is worth many men for his ability
to cut out arrows and sprinkle soothing drugs.”

So he said, and Nestor, horseman of Gerenia,
obeyed. He quickly mounted his chariot,
and Machaon, great healer Asclepius’ son,
mounted beside him. Whipping the horses,
they flew eagerly to the hollow ships.

But Cebriones, seeing the Trojans panicking
as he stood by Hector on the chariot, said to him:
“Hector, while we fight the Danaans here
on the edge of the bitter battle, other Trojans
are panicking in confusion, both horses and men.
Ajax, son of Telamon, drives them; I can see
the wide shield on his shoulders. So let us take
our horses and chariot and go where foul
combat is fiercest between horsemen and foot
soldiers and where ceaseless cries ring out.”

Saying this, he lunged the fair-maned horses
with the whistling whip; feeling the strike,
they drove the swift chariot between the Trojans
and Achaeans, trampling corpses and shields
and splattering the chariot’s axles and rails
with blood thrown up by the tires and horses’
hooves. Hector longed to rush and shatter
the throng, and he gave his spear little rest
as he hurled menace upon the Danaans.
He ranged along the battle lines of men
with his spear, sword, and great stones
but avoided fighting Ajax, son of Telamon.

Then Zeus on high drove fear into Ajax’s heart;
he stood in a daze, threw his seven layer ox-hide
shield on his back, and fled like a beast, turning
and glancing back at the throng as he sped away.
Imagine a tawny lion driven from a cattle pen
by the shouts of dogs and country men, who
watch all night long and do not allow the beast
to take the fattest ox; but in his lust for flesh
he charges forward all the same only to meet
javelins shot from brave hands and burning
torches that force him to flee despite his desire
so that, at dawn, he leaves with a sullen heart.
So Ajax, his spirits dashed, was forced to flee
from the Trojans, fearing for the Achaean ships.
Just as an ass overpowers boys to enter a field,
going in even though they break their cudgels
on his ribs and keep beating him as he ravages
the deep corn crops, and though their strength
is weak, they drive him out once he eats his fill,
so too did the daring Trojans and their allies
stab their shining spears into the shield of great
Ajax, son of Telamon, as they follow after him.
For a time, Ajax would remember his rushing
courage and turn to check the horse-taming
Trojans only then to whirl back round and flee.
But he alone barred them from reaching the swift
ships, running between the Trojans and Achaeans
as he battled. And some spears from their hands
were fixed to his great shield while many others
were impaled in the earth before reaching
his white skin, though they longed for his flesh.

When Eurypylus, Euaemon’s splendid son,
saw the darts pressing thick and fast upon Ajax,
he stood beside him, aimed his shining spear,
and hit Apisaon, Phausius’ son, herder of men,
in the liver below the midriff, and his knees
buckled. Eurypylus leapt on him and started
to strip the armor from his shoulders, but godlike
Alexander saw him, quickly drew his bow, and shot
Eurypylus with an arrow in the right thigh.
The shaft broke and filled his thigh with pain,
so he retreated behind his comrades to avoid death.
He then gave a great cry and said to the Danaans:
“Friends, leaders, and rulers of the Argives,
turn and stand and beat back this day of death
from Ajax who is besieged by darts and who may
not survive this woeful battle. So stand and face
the foes with the great Ajax, son of Telamon.”

So said the stricken Eurypylus, and they all stood
with him, their shields leaning on their shoulders
and their spears outstretched. And Ajax joined
his comrades and turned and stood with them.

As they fought like a blazing fire, the sweat-strewn
horses of Neleus carried Nestor and Machaon,
herder of men, away from the battle. And swift-
footed, noble Achilles eyed him as he stood
at the stern of his large hollow ship and watched
the toil of war and the tearful retreat. At once,
he called from the ship to his friend Patroclus,
and Patroclus emerged out of the tent like
Ares, and this was the beginning of his end.
The stout son of Menoetius was first to speak:
“Why do you call, Achilles? What do you need?”

In reply, swift-footed Achilles said to him:
“Noble son of Menoetius, dear to my heart,
now, I think, the Achaeans will come and beg me
on their knees for they are in desperate straits.
But go, Patroclus, and ask Nestor the name
of the wounded man he brings back from battle;
from behind, he looks a lot like Machaon,
son of Asclepius, but I did not see his eyes,
for his horses darted past and hurried on.”

So he said, and Patroclus obeyed his dear friend
and raced along the Achaean tents and ships.

When the others reached Nestor’s tent, they
stepped onto the rich earth, and Eurymedon,
his attendant, loosed the horses from the chariot
while the others stood, dried their sweat-stained
clothes in the ocean breeze, went into the tent,
and took their seats. Then a potion was prepared
by fair Hecamede, daughter of great-hearted
Arsinous whom Nestor took when Achilles
sacked Tendeos; the Achaeans awarded her
to Nestor for being the best of all in counsel.
First she pushed between them a well-polished,
elegant table with cobalt feet; on it she set
a bronze basket with an onion relish for their
drink, golden honey, and blessed barley bread;
and beside these she put a beautiful goblet
brought from home by the old man, with golden
nails studded around it, four handles, two feeding
doves drawn on either side, and a double base
for support. Others struggled to lift the goblet
off the table, but old Nestor lifted it easily.
Into this the goddess-like woman mixed
a potion with the Pramnian wine,^[2] grating goat
cheese over it and adding sprinkles of white
barley. Once ready, she urged them to drink.
When they had sated their thirst, they spoke
cheerfully to one another until godlike
Patroclus appeared at the door. Seeing him,
the old man leapt from his shining chair,
took his hand, and offered him a seat.
But Patroclus refused and said to him:
“I cannot sit nor will you persuade me, old man.
A respected and feared man sent me to find
out who it was you brought back wounded,
but I see that it is Machaon, herder of men.
Now I will bring word back to Achilles. You
know the kind of man he is, old man beloved
by Zeus: quick to blame even the blameless.”

Then Nestor, horseman of Gerenia, replied:
“Why does Achilles worry about Achaea’s
wounded sons? He knows not the grief stirred
across the camp, for the best of them are lying
by the ships, injured by spear-thrusts and arrows.
Diomedes was struck by an arrow, Odysseus
and Agamemnon were wounded by spears,
Eurypylus was hit with an arrow in his thigh,
and I have led this arrow-stricken young man,
Machaon, back from battle. But Achilles, though
noble, does not care for or pity the Danaans.
Does he wait until the swift ships near the sea
are aflame and the Argives slain one by one
despite their best efforts? For my limbs are not
as limber as they once were. If only I was still
the young, strong man I was when we fought
the Eleans over the theft of cattle, and I slew
Itymoneus, Hypeirochus’ mighty son, who
lived in Elis, as I drove off the cattle in reprisal;
while fighting over the oxen, he was struck
by a spear from my hands, and as he fell,
the country folk around him fled in terror.
Together we drove great spoils out of the plain:
fifty oxen herds, just as many flocks of sheep,
herds of swine, herds of wandering goats,
and one hundred and fifty chestnut horses,
all mares, many with suckling foals. We drove
all these by night into Neleus’ keep in Pylos,
and Neleus cheered at the spoils that had come
my way though I was but a youth. At dawn,
the heralds called out that any man owed
a debt in noble Elias should come. And all
the leaders in Pylos came to divide the spoils,
for the Epeians owed many men a debt since
we in Pylos were few and poorly-treated,
for mighty Heracles had come many years
earlier and oppressed us, killing all our bravest.
There had been twelve sons of Neleus,
but I alone remained, the others perishing,
and because of this, the arrogant, bronze-clad
Epeians devised deplorable deeds against us.
From the spoils, the old man took a herd of oxen
and a flock of sheep, three hundred of each,
and their herdsmen. For a great debt was owed
him in noble Elis: four prize horses and a chariot
that had gone to the games to race for the tripod,
but Augeias, lord of men, kept the horses there
and returned their driver who mourned his lost
horses. These words and deeds angered the old
man, so he took a large share, and gave the rest
to his people so none might lack an equal share.

“So we settled each debt, and the city was filled
with sacrifices to the gods; but on the third day
the Epeians rushed in with many men and single-
hoofed horses, and among them were the two
Moliones,^[3] both young and unskilled in fighting.
Now Thryum is a city on a steep hill far
from Alpheius on the farthest border of sandy
Pylos; there they set camp, eager to lay waste
to the town. But when they made for the plain,
divine Athena came to us at night from Olympus
bearing a message to arm for battle for the army
gathered in Pylos was eager for war. But Neleus
did not allow me to arm and hid my horses
for he thought I knew nothing of warcraft.
Still, though I was on foot, I was pre-eminent
among horsemen, for Athena directed the battle.
Now the river Minyeïus empties into the sea near
Arene; and here it was that we Pylian horsemen
and foot soldiers waited for divine Dawn.
We quickly dressed in full armor and arrived
at midday to the holy waters of Alpheius where
we offered fine sacrifices to mighty Zeus, a bull
to Alpheius, a bull to Poseidon, and a cow
from the herd for gleaming-eyed Athena.
Then we took our meal, each with his company,
and went to sleep in full armor beside the river.
Now the great-hearted Epeians surrounded
the city, eager to destroy it, but before that
happened, there came a great work of Ares,
for when the bright sun rose over the land,
we met in battle, praying to Zeus and Athena.

“When the Pylians and Epeians began to fight,
I was the first to slay a man and seize his horse:
spearman Mulius, son-in-law to Augeias, whose
eldest daughter was Mulius’ wife, fair Agamede,
who knew all the herbs grown across the earth.
As he charged, I struck him with my bronze-tipped
spear; he fell to the dust, and I took his chariot
and joined the foremost fighters. But the other
great-hearted Epeians fled when they saw him fall,
for he led their horsemen and was a fierce fighter.
But I sprang on them like a black tempest
and took fifty chariots, and on each one two men
bit the dust, overpowered by my spear. And I
would have slain the two Moliones, sons of Actor,
if their father, wide-ruling Poseidon, had not saved
them from war by hiding them in a heavy mist.
Then Zeus granted the Pylians great might,
for we pursued them over the vast plain, slaying
men and picking up their fine armor until we led
our horses to wheat-rich Buprasium and the rock
of Olen, where there is a hill called Alesium; here
Athena turned back the army. I slew the last man
and left; but the Achaeans drove the swift horses
from Buprasium back to Pylos, and all praised
Zeus among gods and Nestor among men.

“So it was for me with men, unless it was a dream.
But Achilles will celebrate his valor alone, though
I think he will weep bitterly when his men perish.
Surely, friend, Menoetius said all this to you
when he sent you from Phthia to Agamemnon.
Noble Odysseus and I were in the house
and heard all the advice he gave to you when
we came to the pleasant halls of Peleus,
gathering the army throughout rich Achaea.
We found heroic Menoetius in the house with you
and Achilles, and old horseman Peleus was
burning a fat bull’s thigh for loud-thunderer Zeus
in the open courtyard, holding a golden cup
and pouring bright wine over the blazing altar.
You two were tending the fire while we stood
in the doorway; and Achilles jumped in surprise,
took our hands, led us in, sat us down, and offered
us fine hospitality, as is a stranger’s right. Once
we filled ourselves with food and drink, I spoke
first, urging you both to follow us, and as you
were eager to go, your fathers spoke to you.
Old man Peleus charged his son Achilles
to be the bravest and mightiest warrior of all,
but Menoetius, son of Actor, charged you thus:
‘My child, by birth Achilles is higher than you
and his strength is greater, but you are the elder.
So speak wise words to him, give him counsel,
and guide him; if he obeys you, he will prosper.’
So he said, but you forgot. Yet even now you
could speak to skilled Achilles and he would listen.
Who knows? With a god’s help, your words may
stir his soul; a friend can be very persuasive.
But if he is trying to evade some prophecy,
his mother having shared some secret from Zeus,
then let him send you out and let the Myrmidons
follow you and so be a light for the Danaans.
And let him give you his fine armor to wear into war,
so the Trojans think that you are he, hold back
from battle, and give the worn-out Achaean sons
some rest, for there is little time for rest in war,
and rested men might easily push weary men
back towards the city from the ships and tents.”

So he said, stirring the heart of Patroclus, who
ran back along the ships to Aeacus’ grandson
Achilles. But when he came to the ships of godlike
Odysseus, where the Achaeans held assembly
and cast votes and where an altar to the gods was
set, Eurypylus, Zeus-born son of Eumaeon, met
him as he limped away from battle, having been
hit with an arrow in the thigh. Sweat dripped
from his head and shoulders and black blood
trickled from his painful wound, but his mind
was clear. The brave son of Menoetius looked
at him and felt pity, and said with winged words:
“Wretched leaders and lords of the Danaans,
were you fated, so far from friends and native
lands, to sate Troy’s wild dogs with your shining
flesh? Tell me, Eurypylus, Zeus-blessed warrior,
will the Achaeans be able to hold back mighty
Hector, or will they die, mastered by his spear?”

Then the wounded Eurypylus replied to him:
“Nothing will safeguard the Achaeans, godlike
Patroclus, but they will flee back into their black
ships. All the best warriors lie on the ships
with arrow or spear wounds from the hands
of Trojans whose strength is ever increasing.
But now help me to my black ship, cut the arrow
from my thigh, wash away the black blood
with warm water, and sprinkle healing herbs
upon it, which they say you learned from Achilles,
who was taught by the wisest centaur, Chiron.
As for the healers, Machaon lies wounded
in the huts and is himself in need of healing,
while his brother Podaleirius is on the plain,
awaiting the sharp wrath of the Trojans.”

Then the brave son of Menoetius said to him:
“How can this be? What shall we do, Eurypylus?
I am going to wise Achilles to relay the words
of Nestor of Gerenia, guardian of the Achaeans,
but I cannot leave you in your suffering.”

So saying, he threw his arms around Eurypylus
and led him to his tent where his servant set
down oxen hides. Using a sharp knife Patroclus
cut the arrow out of his thigh, washed off
the black blood with warm water, and applied
a sharp root that stills pain. Then the wound
started drying and the blood stopped flowing.