Once Zeus had driven the Trojans and Hector
to the ships, he left them to ply the endless,
woeful work of war and turned his shining eyes
to the Thracian horsemen, the close-fighting
Mysians, the noble Hippemolgi who live on mare’s
milk, and the most pious men of the Abii.
He no longer turned his bright eyes to the Trojans
for he did not think in his heart that any immortal
would go and aid the Trojans or the Danaans.

But the lord of earthquakes^[1] kept no blind watch,
for he sat spellbound by the war and the strife atop
the highest peak of wooded Samothrace, where
all of mount Ida was visible as well as Priam’s city
and the ships of the Achaeans. He left the sea
to sit there, feeling pity for the Achaeans fleeing
the Trojans, and blaming mighty Zeus.

At once, he quickly descended down the rocky
mountain, the high hills and valleys trembling
with immortal Poseidon’s every footstep. He took
three steps, and on the fourth he reached his goal,
Aegae, his famous home deep under the sea,
glittering in gold and impervious to decay.
Then he harnessed his chariot to his swift-footed
horses with hooves of bronze and golden manes,
dressed his body in gold, took up his well-wrought
whip of gold, boarded his chariot, and drove over
the waves. The sea creatures rose and frolicked
around him, for they knew him well, and the sea
happily parted for him; they flew on swiftly,
the bronze axle never getting wet, and the swift
horses brought him to the Achaean ships.

There is a wide cavern deep under the sea
midway between Tendeos and rocky Imbros;
there earth-shaker Poseidon stopped his horses,
unyoked them, gave them ambrosia to eat,
bound their hooves with unbreakable golden
shackles so they would remain until their master
returned, and headed for the swift Achaean army.

The Trojans pressed together like flames or storm
clouds, eagerly following Hector, son of Priam,
roaring loudly and hoping to seize the Achaean
ships and to slay all of their finest men.
But earth-embracing, earth-shaking Poseidon
came out of the deep sea to stir the Argives;
taking on the form and voice of Calchas,
he spoke first to the two eager Ajaxes:
“Ajaxes, remember your courage, forget your
fear, and you will save the Achaean army.
I do not fear the invincible Trojan hands
that have climbed over the great wall en mass,
for the well-greaved Achaeans will stop them.
But I have a dreadful fear of the raging
fire that is hurling towards us: Hector,
who claims to be the son of mighty Zeus.
Let one of the gods stir your souls to stand
strong and to inspire the others as well;
then you might force him back from the swift
ships though the Olympian urges him on.”

So saying, the earth-embracer and shaker hit
them with his staff, filling them with great might,
and lightening their limbs, feet, and hands.
Just as a swift-winged hawk lifts itself high over
a steep rock face and flies out across the plain
as he chases some other bird, so earth-shaking
Poseidon darted past them. And Ajax, swift
son of Oïleus, was first to recognize him,
and he quickly said to Ajax, son of Telamon:
“Ajax, one of the Olympian gods has come
in the likeness of the augur Calchas to urge
us to battle beside the ships, for easily
could I see that the outlines of his feet
and lower legs were those of a god. Thus
the heart in my breast, the feet below me,
and the hands above me have never been
more ready to wage war and to do battle.”

In reply, Telamonian Ajax said to him:
“Like you, my invincible hands are eager
to grasp my spear, my rage is stirred, my feet
below are driving me on, and I cannot wait
to fight savage Hector, Priam’s son, one-on-one.”

As they spoke to one another, rejoicing
in the battle-lust granted them by a god,
the earth-mover stirred the Achaeans who
sat resting beside the swift ships. Their limbs
were worn from painful toil, and great grief
filled their hearts upon seeing the Trojans
who were coming en mass over the great wall.
Seeing this brought tears to their eyes, for they
saw no hope of escape; but the earth-shaker
went among them and inspired the battalions.
He went first to stir on Teucer and Leïtus
followed by heroic Peneleos, Thoas, Deïpyrus,
Meriones, and great war-crier Antilochus.
To these he spoke with winged words, saying:
“Shame on you, young Argives, for I trusted
your fighting skills to protect our ships;
but if your furious fighting has grown slack,
then we will be routed by the Trojans today.
Indeed, I see with my eyes a great marvel,
a sight I never thought would come to pass:
our ships assaulted by Trojans, who before
were like timid deer in the forest preyed
upon by jackals, leopards, and wolves, flitting
about helplessly and lacking a fighting spirit;
the Trojans, too, were timid, unable to stand
against the might and arms of the Achaeans.
Now they fight far from the city by the hollow
ships due to our weak leader and the stubborn
men who quarrel with him and who prefer
to die beside the swift ships than defend them.
Even though it is true that the warrior son
of Atreus, broad-ruling Agamemnon, is guilty
of dishonoring the swift-footed son of Peleus,
we must not refrain from fighting. Let us heal
the breach, for great men’s hearts can atone,
but never again should great men’s fighting
fury be allowed to grow slack. Now, I would
not quarrel with a man who was worthless
in battle, but with you my heart burns with rage.
You weaklings, soon your laziness will bring
a greater evil, so steel yourselves against shame
and cowardice, for a great battle is upon us.
Great war-crier Hector has smashed the gates
and long bar and is fighting beside our ships.”

So the earth-shaker stirred the swift Achaeans.
Courageous battalions formed around both
Ajaxes, and neither Ares nor Athena, rouser
of armies, could scorn them, and these brave
men awaited the Trojans and godlike Hector.
They stood man to man, spear to spear, helmet
to helmet, and shield against shield. The horse-
hair plumes on their shining helmets touched
as their heads moved as one, their stout hands
shook their spears in a jagged line, their minds
were steady, and they were ready for a fight.

The Trojans advanced as one with Hector
leading the way like a rolling rock on a cliff
that a powerful river swollen with winter rain
dislodges from its foundation; the rock leaps
and flies recklessly through the echoing woods
and rolls relentlessly ahead until it reaches level
ground and goes no further. So Hector boasted
that he would easily break past the tents
and Achaean ships and reach the sea, slaying
as he went. But when he neared the thick battle-
lines, he paused, for the Achaeans were ready
for him, thrusting out their swords and two-edged
spears and forcing Hector to give ground.
He then cried out to the Trojans, saying:
“Trojans, Lycians, and Dardanians who fight
as one: the Achaeans will not hold me back
for long, though they are arrayed like a wall.
But they will be beaten back by my spear if I am
truly being led by the thundering lord of Hera.”

So he said, stirring each man’s might and spirit.
With them came Deïphobus, Priam’s proud son,
who advanced lightly on his feet, protecting
himself with the well-balanced shield held before
him. Meriones aimed at him and shot his shining
spear and did not miss, hitting his well-balanced
ox-hide shield; but the long spear’s shaft broke off
before the point could pass through. Deïphobus
held his ox-hide shield away from him, his heart
terrified by Meriones’ spear, but Meriones fell
back into the throng, dreadfully angry both
for missing his target and for shattering his spear.
And he went back to the Achaean camp and ships
to retrieve a spear he had left in his tent.

The others fought on with unquenchable cries.
Teucer, son of Telamon, was first to kill a man:
Imbrius, rich Mentor’s son, who lived in Pedaeum
before the Achaean sons arrived and married
Medesicaste, illegitimate daughter of Priam.
But when the Danaans came, he went to Ilios,
was loved by the Trojans and lived the house
of Priam, who treated him like a son. Teucer
stabbed Imbrius under the ear with his long
spear and drew the spear out, and he fell like
an ash tree cut down by bronze on a hill visible
in all directions, and as it falls its tender leaves
scatter over the earth. So Imbrius fell, his bronze
armor ringing round him. As Teucer raced to strip
the armor, Hector threw his shining spear at him.
Teucer saw him and only just dodged the dart,
but it hit Amphimachus, son of Cteatus who was
the son of Actor, in the chest as he was joining
the battle, and he fell with a heavy sound,
his armor clanging. As Hector lunged to strip
away the helmet fitted to the head of great-
hearted Amphimachus, Ajax hurled his shining
spear at him but failed to pierce his bronze-
shielded skin and struck his bossed shield.
This forced Hector back, allowing the Achaeans
to pull the two corpses away. Then Stichius
and Menestheus, the Athenian leaders,
carried Amphimachus to the Achaean camp
while the two mighty Ajaxes lifted Imbrius.
Like two lions tearing a goat away from sharp-
toothed dogs and into the thick brush, holding
the goat in their jaws high above the ground,
so the two Ajaxes held Imbrius high and stripped
his armor. Then the son of Oïleus, angered
by Amphimachus’ death, severed his head
from his tender neck, and it rolled away like
a ball, stopping in the dust by Hector’s feet.

But Poseidon’s heart was enraged by the death
of his grandson in fierce battle,^[2] so he went
to the Achaean ships and tents to rouse
the Danaans and bring trouble to the Trojans.
He met spear-famed Idomeneus just as he
had finished aiding a comrade who had been
struck in the hamstring by a sharp spear.
After giving orders to the healer, he went
back to his tent and was eager to return
to battle when the earth-shaker spoke to him
with the voice of Andraemon’s son, Thoas,
lord of the Aetolians in all Pleuron and lofty
Calydon and honored like a god by his people:
“Idomeneus, Cretan advisor, what became
of the Achaean sons’ threats against the Trojans?”

And Idomeneus, leader of the Cretans, replied:
“O Thoas, no man is responsible, as far as I
am aware; for we all know the ways of warfare.
No man is held by feckless fear, nor do they
shrink from bitter battle. Instead, it must be
the will of mighty Cronos’ son that the Argives
are fated to die nameless and far from Argos.
But Thoas, you are always steadfast in battle
and able to urge on those who lose the will to fight,
so do not give up now but call out to each man.”

Then earth-shaker Poseidon answered him:
“Idomeneus, the man who willingly recoils
from fighting on this day may never return home
from Troy but become sport for dogs. But come,
take your weapon and follow me; we two must
work together quickly if we are to be any help.
Even poor soldiers can bring success when united,
but we know how to battle even with the best.”

So he said and moved on, a god among men’s
toil, and when Idomeneus came to his well-made
tent, he donned his fine armor, took two spears,
and ran like the lightning that Zeus seizes
in his hands and brandishes on radiant Olympus
to send signs to mortals and to light the sky.
Thus did Idomeneus’ bronze chest shine as he
ran. Near the tents he met Meriones, his brave
attendant, who was on his way to get a bronze
spear, and mighty Idomeneus said to him:
“Swift-footed Meriones, son of Molus, dearest
friend, why have you left the battle to come here?
Were you struck and injured by a missile’s point,
or are you delivering me a message? I myself
do not want to stay in the tents but to fight.”

Then shrewd Meriones answered him, saying:
“Idomeneus, advisor of the bronze-clad Cretans,
I am going to get a spear, if you have a spare
one in the tent. My spear was shattered when I
hurled it at the shield of arrogant Deïphobus.”

Idomeneus, leader of the Cretans, replied to him:
“If you want one or twenty spears, you will find
them by the bright inner wall of the tent,
Trojan spears taken from the slain. I do not
like to fight the enemy by standing far away,
so I use swords and bossed shields and helmets
and breastplates that are glittering and bright.”

Then shrewd Meriones answered him, saying:
“My tent and black ship also hold many Trojan
spoils, but they are not nearby for me to take.
And I tell you, I have not forgotten my might,
for once war’s fury has been stirred, I stand
and fight among the finest in pursuit of glory.
Other bronze-clad Achaeans might not know
of my prowess, but I think you know it.”

Idomeneus, leader of the Cretans, replied to him:
“I know your worth; why must I tell you of it?
When the best of us gather for an ambush
beside the ships, then a man’s true nature
is revealed, whether he is brave or cowardly.
The skin of a coward changes colors,
his spirit is stirred so that he cannot sit,
his feet fidget from one side to another,
the heart in his chest beats louder as he
imagines his death, and his teeth chatter.
But a brave man’s skin is unchanged for he
does not shrink from joining the ambush
and prays to quickly mix in mournful war.
Then truly, none would question your courage
or strength, for if you were struck or stabbed
in battle, the arrow would not fall behind
your neck or on your back but on the chest
or in the belly as you charged ahead to grapple
a foe. But come, let us stop standing and talking
like children or else someone will censure us.
Go to the hut and choose a mighty spear.”

So he said, and Meriones ran into the tent like
swift Ares, took a bronze spear, and followed
Idomeneus, his mind set on war. Just as Ares,
destroyer of men, goes to battle with Phobos,
his mighty and fearless son, who forces even
the stoutest soldier to flee, leaving Thrace
fully armed and ready to encounter Ephyri
or great-hearted Phlegyes, not hearing all
prayers but giving glory to one side only,
so Meriones and Idomeneus, leaders of men,
ventured into the fight armed in fiery bronze.
And Meriones spoke first to Idomeneus:
“Son of Deucalion, should we join the battle
on the right of the army, in the middle,
or on the left? Nowhere else are long-haired
Achaeans so overmatched in battle.”

Idomeneus, leader of the Cretans, replied to him:
“The middle ships are protected by the two
Ajaxes and Teucer, the best of all Achaeans
in archery and a good fighter in close combat;
they will give Hector, son of Priam, his fill
of war, even though he is strong and battle-ready.
And though he is eager to fight, it will be hard
for him to beat their strength and invincible hands
and burn the ships unless Cronos’ son throws
a fire-brand into our swift vessels. But great
Telamonian Ajax yields to no mortal man who
eats the corn of Demeter or is able to be cut
with bronze or rent by rocks. Not even Achilles,
breaker of men, would give way in a close fight,
but no man rivals Achilles in fleetness of foot.
No, we will head to the army’s left and find out
if we are to gain glory or give it to another.”

He spoke, and Meriones, equal to swift Ares,
led the way until they reached the army’s left side.

When the Trojans saw Idomeneus, like a mighty
flame, and his attendant dressed in well-wrought
armor, they called to each other and went after
him, converging to fight by the sterns of the ships.
Just as on days when whistling gales unleash
whirling storms, piling dust thick upon the roads
only for winds to lift the dust into great clouds,
so the fighters swirled together, each man eager
in his heart to slay his foes with sharp swords.
And the battle that destroys men bristled
with long, flesh-tearing spears and eyes blinded
by the light from their bronze helmets or newly
polished breastplates or shining spears massing
together; and stout-hearted men would not
weep but would rejoice to see such fighting.

Their minds divided, Cronos’ two mighty sons
devised great woes for mortal men. Zeus desired
victory for the Trojans and Hector and to give
glory to swift-footed Achilles—not to destroy
the Achaean army before Ilios but to bring
honor to Thetis and her strong-hearted son.
But Poseidon snuck out of the salt sea to rouse
the Achaeans, for their defeat to the Trojans
angered him and he blamed Zeus. Though
the two were of one generation and shared one
father, Zeus was first born and wiser, so Poseidon
avoided openly defending the Achaeans but took
the form of a man and roused the army in secret.
Thus they knit together the rope of war and strife,
stretching it tightly around both armies, making
it unbreakable, and cutting many at the knees.

Then grizzled Idomeneus roused the Danaans,
leaping among the Trojans and forcing them to flee.
He slew Othryoneus of Cabesus, recently arrived
after hearing reports of war; he had asked Priam
for the hand of Cassandra, his most beautiful
daughter, but brought no bride-price, promising
instead deeds that would force Achaean sons off
Trojan lands. Old Priam nodded and promised
to give her; Othryoneus trusted him and fought.
Idomeneus aimed and threw his shining spear,
hitting the man mid-stride; his bronze breastplate
failed him, and the spear stuck in his stomach.
As he fell with a thud, Idomeneus taunted him:
“Othryoneus, I honor you above all other men
if you truly bring to pass all that you promised
Dardanian Priam in return for his daughter.
We will also make you a promise: to give you
the fairest daughter of Atreus’ sons, bringing
her here from Argos to be your wife, if you
join us in sacking prosperous Ilios. So come
with me to our seafaring ships so we can make
wedding plans, for we are not bad matchmakers.”

So saying, heroic Idomeneus dragged him across
the battlefield by the foot. But Asius dismounted
to rescue him, his charioteer behind him, holding
the horses who were breathing on his shoulders.
Before he could strike, Idomeneus quickly speared
him in the throat and drove the bronze straight
through, and he fell like a oak, white poplar,
or tall pine tree on a mountain that woodcutters
had cut down with sharp axes to make timber
for a ship. So Asius lay stretched before his horses
and chariot, roaring in pain and clutching
the bloody dust. The charioteer was too afraid
to turn his horses and flee from enemy hands,
so Antilochus pierced him in the middle.
The bronze breastplate failed to stop the spear
from sticking in his stomach, and he fell
from his chariot, gasping. Then Antilochus,
son of great-hearted Nestor, led the horses away
from the Trojans to the well-greaved Achaeans.

Then Deïphobus, grieving for Asius, came close
to Idomeneus and hurled a shining spear at him.
But Idomeneus saw the bronze spear coming
and avoided it by hiding behind his balanced
shield fitted with ox hides, rings of gleaming
bronze, and two cross-rods. He crouched down,
and the bronze spear made a scraping sound
as it grazed the shield and flew past. But the throw
from his heavy hands was not in vain for it
struck Hypsenor, son of Hippasus, herder of men,
in the liver below the belly, dropping him
to his knees, and Deïphobus rejoiced, saying:
“Asius has been avenged, and though he goes
to the mighty gates of Hades, his heart will be
pleased for I have sent him a companion.”

His words brought the Achaeans sorrow
and stirred the spirit of skilled Antilochus.
Though grieving, he ran over and covered
his comrade with a shield until Mecisteus,
son of Echius, and noble Alastor, two
worthy men, could pick him up and carry
the groaning man to the hollow ships.

Idomeneus’ fury had not ceased, for he was
eager either to shroud some Trojans in gloomy
night or to die while defending the Achaeans.
Then came the warrior Alcathous, dear to Zeus,
son of Aesyetes and son-in-law of Anchises,
having married his daughter Hippodameia,
who was beloved by her father and honored
mother for she surpassed all other girls her age
in beauty, crafts, and wisdom; thus the best man
in all Troy had taken her as wife. Idomeneus
slew Alcathous with help from Poseidon,
who bewitched his bright eyes and shackled
his limbs so he stood still like a stone pillar
or lofty tree, unable to turn back or escape
as Idomeneus’ spear struck the center
of his chest. A harsh, grating sound rang out
as the spear tore open the bronze armor that
once protected his body from harm, and he fell
with a thud, the spear stuck in his still-beating
heart, the spear’s butt-end still shaking.
Then mighty Ares took his life from him,
and Idomeneus rejoiced in triumph, crying:
“Deïphobus, are we even now, three men
slain to one? You were the one who boasted.
You are a fool, but stand and face me and see
the man, Zeus’ son, who has come before you.
First, Zeus fathered Minos to guard Crete,
and Minos bore blameless Deucalion, who
then bore me to rule many men in wide Crete.
Now my ships have brought me here to bring
misery to you, your father, and the rest of Troy.”

So he said, and Deïphobus was of two minds:
whether to retreat and find some great-hearted
Trojan companions or to fight on his own.
He pondered this and decided it was best to go
to Aeneas, who was at the battle’s edge, for he was
always angry at noble Priam who never honored
him among the people, brave though he was.
He came near and spoke winged words to him:
“Aeneas, Trojan counselor, if you care about
your kin, then defend your brother-in-law.
Come now and rescue Alcathous, who helped
to raise you in your halls when a child. Now
spear-famed Idomeneus has killed him in battle.”

These words roused the heart in Aeneas’ chest,
and he attacked Idomeneus, his mind set on war.
But Idomeneus was no child taken with terror,
for he waited like a mountain boar, sure of strength,
who awaits a herd of hunters to come against
him in an isolated place; with his back bristling,
his eyes burning with fire, and his tusks whetting,
he is eager to fight back against dogs and men.
So spear-famed Idomeneus did not give ground
on great-shouter Aeneas but called his comrades:
Ascalaphus, Aphareus, Deïpyrus, Meriones,
and Antilochus, battle-criers all. He called out
to them, urging them on with winged words:
“Come, friends, and aid me, for I am alone,
and I fear swift-footed Aeneas who is charging
on me, is a fierce slayer of men in battle, and has
the vigor of youth, when men are strongest.
If we were the same age and our spirits equal,
then either of us would soon earn great victory.”

So he said, and they stood together, all of one
spirit, their shields leaning on their shoulders.
Opposite them, Aeneas called his comrades,
looking to Deïphobus, Paris, and noble Agenor,
who led the Trojans with him, and after them
came the army. And just as sheep follow a ram
from pasture to water, the shepherd glad
at heart, so Aeneas was glad in his heart
to see the army following after him.

Then they attacked at close quarters around
Alcathous using long spears, their bronze chests
ringing loudly as they aimed and fired at one
another, and Aeneas and Idomeneus, both
equal to Ares, stood apart from others, eager
to cut the other’s flesh with ruthless bronze.
First, Aeneas shot at Idomeneus, but Idomeneus
saw the bronze spear coming and so avoided it,
and the shaking spear from the hand of Aeneas
fell fruitlessly to the ground. Then Idomeneus
hit Oenomaus square in the stomach. The bronze
shattered his breastplate, bursting his bowels,
and he fell to the earth, his hands clawing at dust.
Idomeneus drew the long-shadowed spear out
of his corpse but was forced back by missiles
and could not strip the armor off the shoulders,
for his joints lacked the vigor they once held
when rushing for his spear or fleeing another’s.
In close fighting he fended off his dreaded day,
for his feet could not quickly carry him from war.
As he retreated, Deïphobus hurled his shining
spear at him, for he had always resented him.
Again the shot missed, but the spear struck
the shoulder of Ascalaphus, son of Enyalius,
who fell to the earth, his hands clawing at dust.
Great-shouter Ares knew nothing of his son’s
fall in mighty combat, for he sat on the highest
peak of Olympus, under the golden clouds;
along with the other immortal gods, he was
held back from battle by the will of Zeus.

All around Ascalaphus, they fought hand-to-
hand. Deïphobus snatched away his shining
helmet, but Meriones, equal to swift Ares,
sprang up and hit his arm, and the hollow-
eyed helmet fell to the dust with a clank.
Meriones again leapt like a vulture, drew
the spear from his shoulder, and shrank
into the crowd of his comrades. Then Polites,
Deïphobus’ brother, pulled him by the waist
and led him from woeful war to his swift
horses, which stood behind the battle
with the charioteer and fine chariot, and they
carried him back to the city, groaning
with pain as blood flowed from his injured arm.

The rest fought on as ceaseless cries arose.
Then Aeneas sprang at Aphareus, Caletor’s son,
and struck his exposed throat with a sharp spear.
His head turned to one side, his shield and helmet
fell, and life-destroying death enveloped him.
Then Antilochus waited for Thoön to turn
around before striking him and severing
the vein that ran from his back to his neck,
tearing it away entirely. As he fell to the dust,
he stretched both hands out to his comrades.
Antilochus sprang and tried to strip the armor
from his shoulders while the circling Trojans
attacked him, but their hard bronze was not
able to pierce the shining shield and graze
his rounded flesh, for earth-shaker Poseidon
protected Nestor’s son from the swarming
spears. Enemies surrounded him, but he
moved among them with his spear constantly
in motion and his mind ever ready to hurl
his missile at a foe or charge in and fight.

But he could not escape Adamas, son of Asius,
who rushed and pierced the center of his shield
with his sharp spear; but dark-haired Poseidon
weakened the strike and saved Antilochus’ life.
Half the spear was stuck in his shield like a burnt
stake while the other half was on the ground,
and he retreated behind his comrades to avoid
death. But Meriones pursued, cast his spear,
and hit him between the groin and navel,
where Ares inflicts grievous pain to mortal men.
The spear stayed in place as Antilochus thrashed
about like a bull bound by ropes and dragged
away against his will by mountain herdsmen.
So also did he thrash about until heroic
Meriones pulled the spear from his flesh,
and darkness covered the eyes of Antilochus.

Then Helenus hit Deïpyrus’ head with his huge
Thracian sword and smashed the helmet,
knocking it from his head to the ground. It rolled
along the fighters’ feet until an Achaean picked
it up. Then darkness covered Deïpyrus’ eyes.

Grief filled war-crier Menelaus, son of Atreus,
as he shook his sharp spear and drove with fury
at heroic lord Helenus, who drew back his bow.
Both shot at the same time, one with a sharp spear
and the other with an arrow from a bowstring.
Priam’s son struck Menelaus with an arrow
in the hollow of his breastplate, but the arrow
bounced off. Just as the swing of a winnower’s
wide shovel tosses high black beans and chickpeas
on a large threshing floor under a whistling
wind, so the pointed arrow bounced off glorious
Menelaus’ breastplate and flew far away. Then
war-crier Menelaus, son of Atreus, struck him
in his bowstring hand, the bronze spear driving
straight through both bow and hand. Helenus
retreated into the throng to avoid a deadly fate,
his hand limp and an ashen spear trailing behind
him. Great-hearted Agenor drew out the spear
and bandaged him with a sling made of wool,
brought by his attendant, a shepherd of men.

Peisander then went straight at famed Menelaus,
but an evil fate would bring him to death’s end,
to be killed by Menelaus in dread battle.
When the two came close to one another,
the spear of Atreus’ son was turned aside,
and Peisander struck glorious Menelaus’
shield but could not drive the bronze through
for the broad shield held and broke the spear
shaft. Still his heart rejoiced in hopes of victory.
But Atreus’ son drew his silver-studded sword
and leapt on Peisander, who took from under
his shield a fine bronze axe with a long, polished
olive wood handle, and they sprang at each other.
Peisander hit the crest of his horse-hair helmet,
just beneath the plume, but Menelaus struck
him above the nose, breaking the bone and making
his bloody eyes fall to the dust by his feet.
He fell and Menelaus put his foot on his chest,
stripped him of weapons, and said in triumph:
“This is how you will leave the swift Danaan ships,
reckless Trojans obsessed with battle-shouts.
You lack no outrageous insults to levy on me,
foul dog, nor do your hearts fear the grievous
wrath of loud-thundering Zeus, lord of guests,
who will someday decimate your high city.
You unjustly took away my wife and my many
possessions when she offered you hospitality,
and now you eagerly wish to to hurl deadly fire
on our seafaring ships and kill Achaean heroes.
But your eagerness for battle will yet be stayed.
Father Zeus, both men and gods say that you are
wiser than all others, yet all this was your doing,
for you favor these indecent men, these Trojans,
who are filled with reckless rage and incapable
of satisfying their lust for furious fighting.
Others would rather have their fill of sleep
or sex or sweet song or glorious dance—all
these would a man rather be filled with than
war, but the Trojans are insatiable for battle.”

So saying, noble Menelaus stripped the bloody
armor from his body, gave it to his comrade,
and returned again to fight on the front lines.

Then Harpalion sprang upon him, son of King
Pylaemenes, who followed his dear father to Troy
and to war but did not return to his native land.
His struck his spear square on Menelaus’ shield,
but the bronze could not pierce it. He then tried
to hide behind his comrades, avoiding fate, while
keeping watch, fearing someone would come and cut
his flesh with bronze. But as he fell back, Meriones
shot a bronze-tipped arrow that hit his right buttock
and passed through the bladder under the bone.
Falling into the arms of his dear comrades, he took
his last breath and lay stretched out like a worm
on the ground, his black blood soaking the earth.
Noble Paphlagonians attended him, placing him
in his chariot and taking him mournfully back
to sacred Ilios, his weeping father following him;^[3]
but no blood-price would be paid for his fallen son.

Harpalion’s death filled Paris’ heart with anger,
for he had been his host among the Paphlagonians;
in his rage, he let fly a bronze-tipped arrow.
Now Euchenor, son of the seer Polyidus, was
a rich and noble man from Corinth; when he
sailed off on his ship, he knew his foul fate,
for his noble father had often told him he would
either die of a painful disease at home or be slain
by Trojans among the Achaean ships. Thus he
avoided both the heavy Achaean fine^[4] and the foul
disease so his heart would suffer no woes. Paris
struck his lower jaw under the ear, his spirit quickly
left his limbs, and dread darkness took him.

So they fought on like blazing fires, but Hector,
beloved of Zeus, neither heard nor knew that
on the left of the ships his finest men were being
slain by the Argives, and the Achaeans would
soon gain glory, for the earth-shaker Poseidon
urged them on and aided them with his might.
But Hector held on where he first broke the gates
and beat the ranks of shield-bearing Danaans,
where the ships of Ajax and Protesilaus were
beached along the grey sea, where the wall was
at its lowest, and where the men and their horses
were particularly merciless in battle.

The Boeotians, the flowing-robed Ionians,
the Locrians, Phthians, and bright Epeians all
tried to halt divine Hector’s charge at the ships
but failed to force back his fiery fury. There were
also hand-picked Athenians, led by Menestheus,
Peteos’ son, followed by Pheidas, Stichius,
and noble Bias; and the Epeians were led by Meges,
Phyleus’ son, followed by Amphion and Dracius;
and leading the Phthians were Medon and staunch
Podarces. Medon was the bastard son of divine
Oïleus and brother of Ajax, but he lived in Phylace,
far from his father’s land, having killed a kinsman
of his stepmother Eriopis, wife of Oïleus;
and Podarces was the son of Iphiclus, Phylacus’ son.
These armed men led the great-hearted Phthians,
and fought beside the Boeotians to defend the ships.
But Ajax, the swift son of Oïleus, would not
stand apart from Telamonian Ajax, even a little;
just as two wine-dark oxen joined to a plow
struggle to till a fallow field, ample sweat gushing
from the roots of their horns and the well-crafted
yoke alone keeping them apart as they strain
over the furrow before reaching the field’s edge,
so the Ajaxes stood as one in battle. Many fine
men, comrades all, followed after Telamon’s
son, taking his shield when his limbs grew weary
and sweaty. But the Locrians did not follow
great-hearted Oïleus’ son, for they were not
equipped for close-fought battles, lacking horse-
hair helmets, rounded shields, and ashen spears
and relying on the bows and twisted slings of wool
they brought when they followed him to Ilios.
With these they shot thick and fast, seeking
to break the Trojan ranks. Thus those in front
wore well-wrought armor and fought the Trojans
and bronze-helmed Hector, those behind shot
from cover, and the Trojans forgot about war
for the arrows had thrown them into confusion.

Then the Trojans would have fled pitifully
from the ships and tents back to windy Ilios had
Polydamas not stood near bold Hector and said:
“Hector, you are a difficult man to persuade.
Since the gods have granted you prowess in war,
you believe your counsel surpasses all others,
but you will never be able to possess all things.
The gods will give one man prowess in war,
one skill in dance, another in lyre and song,
and in the heart of another far-seeing Zeus will
grant wisdom that brings profit to many men
and saves many, and this man knows his value
best. But I will say what it is that in my heart:
a blazing battle surrounds you, but since going
over the wall, some great-hearted Trojans stand
idly by with their weapons while others fight,
some against many, scattered along the ships.
So draw back and call all the best men to this
place so we may devise the wisest counsel
for our assault on the many-benched ships,
if the gods give us victory, or allow us to return
unhurt from the ships. I fear the Achaeans
will avenge the debts of yesterday, since there
remains by the ships a man insatiable for war
who will, I fear, no longer refrain from battle.”

So Polydamas said, and his words pleased Hector,
who quickly leapt in full armor from his chariot
to the ground and spoke winged words to him:
“Polydamas, keep all the best men here while
I go over there to engage in battle and return
quickly once I have given my orders to them.”

So saying, he set off like a mountain blizzard,
shouting as he flew through the Trojans and allies.
The rest hurried towards kind Polydamas, son
of Panthous, when they heard Hector’s order.
But Hector raced through the finest fighters,
hoping to find Deïphobus, great lord Helenus,
Adamas, son of Asius, and Asius, Hyrtacus’ son.
He found them neither unhurt nor unscathed;
some lay by the sterns of the Achaean ships,
their lives lost by Argive hands, while others
were by the wall, struck by arrows and spears.
But to the left of the tearful battle he found
noble Alexander, husband of fair-haired Helen,
inspiring his comrades and urging them to fight,
so he came up to him and rebuked him, saying:
“Wretched Paris, most fair deceiver of women,
where are Deïphobus, great lord Helenus,
Adamas, son of Asius, and Asius’ son Hyrtacus?
Where is Othryoneus? Now high Ilios is
doomed and your own destruction assured.”

Then godlike Alexander answered him:
“Hector, you wish to blame me, though I am
blameless. I may have fled from fighting before,
but not now; my mother did not raise a coward.
We have been fighting the Danaans here without
pause ever since you roused us beside the ships;
but those comrades you asked about are dead.
Only Deïphobus and mighty lord Helenus have
survived; both were struck in the arms by long
spears, but Cronos’ son prevented their deaths.
Now lead on as your heart and spirit command
and we will follow eagerly and we will not let
you down, so long as our strength holds. No
man, however eager, can fight without strength.”

The warrior’s words changed his brother’s mind,
and they went to the place where the fighting was
fiercest, around Cebriones, noble Polydamas,
Phalces, Orthaeus, godlike Polyphetes, Palmys,
Ascanius, and Morys, Hippotion’s son. This
relief force had come the day before from fertile
Ascania, and now Zeus stirred them to fight.
They moved like a burst of painful wind that
runs over the earth beneath Zeus thunder until it
mixes with the noisy sea, forging many roaring
waves, one after another, that bend and curl
with white-flecked foam. So the Trojans moved
as one, flashing their bronze and following
their leaders. Hector, son of Priam and equal
to Ares, led them. He held before him a well-
balanced shield made with thick hides
and beaten with bronze, and atop his head
shook his shining helmet. He tested
the battalions at each point to see if they
would give way as he moved behind his shield,
but he could not confound the Achaean hearts.
Ajax strode forward, first to challenge him:
“Come closer, fool. Why do you try to frighten
the Argives? We are not ignorant of war;
we were only broken by the foul whip of Zeus.
Surely your hearts hope to storm our ships,
but we also have hands to defend them. Before
you take our ships, your well-peopled city will
be taken and sacked by our hands. As for you,
the day is near when you flee while praying
to father Zeus and the other immortals that
your fair-maned horses will be faster than falcons
as they carry you through the dust to your city.”

As he spoke, a bird of omen flew by on the right,
a soaring eagle, and the Achaean army cheered
at this sign, but illustrious Hector answered:
“Ajax, you babbling windbag, what words you
speak! If only I could be the son of aegis-bearing
Zeus and honored Hera for all of my days,
and be honored like Athena and Apollo,
then surely on this day would I bring evil to all
the Argives, and you would die if you dare face
my long spear that will rend your lily-like skin,
and your fat flesh will sate the Trojan dogs
and birds when you fall by the Achaean ships.”

So saying, he set off, and the army followed him
with a deafening clamor of shouts and cries.
The Argives roared in reply, remembering
their valor and awaiting the finest Trojans,
and the noise rose up to the aether and to Zeus.