Patroclus’ death at the hands of the Trojans did not
go unnoticed by warlike Menelaus, son of Atreus,
and he went through the ranks, armed in shining
bronze, and stood over the dead man. Like a cow
wailing over her first-born calf, so fair-haired
Menelaus stood over Patroclus, his spear and well-
balanced shield held in front of him as he looked
to slay any man why tried to challenge him.

Panthous’ son, wielder of the stout spear, also
witnessed the fall of Patroclus, and he stood
close to the body and said to warlike Menelaus:
“Great son of Atreus, Menelaus, leader of men,
give up the corpse and the blood-stained armor,
for I was the first of the Trojans and their famed
allies to strike Patroclus with my spear in combat.
Let me gain great glory among the Trojans or I
will strike you down and take your honey-sweet life.”

Enraged, fair-haired Menelaus answered him:
“Father Zeus, only a fool makes reckless boasts.
Clearly, there is no panther or lion who is more
courageous, nor any mischievous wild boar
more prideful in his mighty heart than the son
of Panthous, wielder of the stout spear. Even
the youthful might of horse-tamer Hyperenor
was no match for me after he insulted me
and said I was the most cowardly fighter among
the Danaans. He will never again walk home
to cheer up his dear wife and loving parents.
So I will shatter your strength if you stand
and face me, but I urge you to retreat back
into the throng before you pay the price,
for fools only learn once a deed is done.”

So he said, but an unswayed Euphorbus replied:
“Now, Menelaus, blessed by Zeus, you will pay
for killing my brother, for boasting about it,
for making his wife a widow in her new bridal
chamber, and for cursing his parents with misery
and sorrow. Perhaps their mourning will stop
if I bring your head and armor and put them
in the hands of Panthous and divine Phrontis.
But this battle will not take long to settle,
so either put up a fight or take flight.”

Saying this, Euphorbus hit the well-balanced
shield of Menelaus, but the mighty shield not only
held but bent the spear point. Then Menelaus
said a prayer to Zeus, drew back his bronze spear,
and struck the base of his throat, thrusting
with all his might and trusting his heavy hands.
The point went clean through Euphorbus’ tender
neck, and he fell with a thud, armor clanging
and blood drenching his Graces-like hair that was
braided with gold and silver. Think of a young
olive tree grown by a man in a lonely place
with abundant water that makes it bloom
beautifully; when the wind makes the branches
shake, bright blossoms rain down, but suddenly
the wind grows into a tempest, uproots the tree,
and lays it low. So Menelaus, son of Atreus,
slew Euphorbus, son of Panthous and wielder
of the stout spear, and began to strip his armor.

Just as a mountain lion, sure of his strength,
snatches the finest heifer in a grazing herd, first
biting and breaking her neck with his sharp teeth
and then feasting on her blood and entrails,
while all around hounds and shepherds cry out
in alarm but stay well back, seized as they are
by a pallid fear and unwilling to challenge him;
so each Trojan, in his heart, lacked the courage
to challenge glorious Menelaus. And Atreus’
son would have taken Euphorbus’ famed armor
had Phoebus Apollo not borne a grudge against
him, disguised himself as Mentes, the leader
of the Cicones, and stirred Hector, equal
to Ares, addressing him with winged words:
“Hector, you will never catch the horses
of the skilled grandson of Aeacus, for no
mortal can tame or drive them save Achilles,
whose mother is a goddess. But Menelaus,
great son of Atreus, stands over Patroclus,
having slain the best of the Trojans, Euphorbus,
son of Panthous, and stopped his fiery spirit.”

So saying, the god returned to the fighting,
but a black cloud filled Hector’s mind as he
surveyed the battlefield and saw one man
stripping off splendid armor and another lying
on the earth, blood gushing from his wound.
With a sharp cry, he raced through the ranks
armed in bronze as bright as the unquenchable
fire of Hephaestus. Hearing the shout, Atreus’ son
was troubled, and he said to his own heroic heart:
“Woe is me! If I leave this splendid armor behind
with Patroclus, who fell defending my honor,
then some Danaans will see this and rebuke me.
But if, out of shame, I fight Hector and the Trojans
alone, I fear they will surround me, many against
one, for shining-helmed Hector leads the Trojan
army here. But why does my heart debate this?
When a man fights another who is honored
by the gods, then misery rolls quickly over him.
As Hector fights with the aid of a god, let no
Danaan who sees me retreat rebuke me. But if I
can find great-shouter Ajax, then we two might
return and think of fighting, even against a god,
and save the corpse for Achilles, son of Peleus,
thus making the best of a bad situation.”

As he pondered this in his mind and heart,
the Trojan ranks advanced, led by Hector.
So Menelaus backed away from the corpse
but kept turning like a well-bearded lion
chased from a farmhouse by spear-wielding
men and barking dogs, the lion’s brave heart
growing cold as he unwillingly leaves. So, too,
did fair-haired Menelaus leave Patroclus.
But when he came to stand with his comrades,
he looked around for great Ajax, Telamon’s
son, and found him on the battle’s left side,
cheering his comrades and rousing them to fight,
for Phoebus Apollo had filled them with grave
terror. Menelaus raced over to him and said:
“Quick, Ajax, come with me to dead Patroclus
and help me return his naked corpse to Achilles,
for glancing-helmed Hector has his armor.”

His words stirred Ajax’s heart, and he followed
fair-haired Menelaus through the throng. Once
Hector had stripped Patroclus of the famed armor,
he started to drag the corpse away, intending
to take it back to Troy, decapitate it, and give it
to the dogs. But when Ajax and his towering shield
appeared, Hector fled behind his comrades,
leapt on his chariot, and handed the fine armor
to the Trojans to take to the city, an emblem
of his glory. But Ajax and his great shield stood
over the son of Menoetius like a lion who, while
leading her cubs through a forest, stumbles
upon hunters and faces them with her might
on full display and her eyes narrowed into tight,
menacing slits. So Ajax stood over heroic
Patroclus, and beside him stood Menelaus,
son of Atreus, a great sadness filling his chest.

Then Glaucus, son of Hippolochus and leader
of the Lycians, scolded Hector with harsh words:
“Good-looking Hector, your fighting falls short.
You are given glory but you act like a coward.
Consider now how you plan to save your citadel
and your city with only those born in Ilios,
for no men of Lycia will battle the Danaans
for your city since we receive no thanks
for our non-stop warring with the enemy.
How could you save a weaker man from pitiless
battle after abandoning Sarpedon, your guest
and friend, to be prey and prize for the Argives?
He often aided you and your city when he lived,
but now you dare not defend him from dogs.
Now, if any Lycian men obey me, then we will
head home, and Troy will be brought to ruin.
If only the Trojans had some bold, unshakable
courage—the kind that comes when men struggle
to defend their father’s lands from a foe—then
we would quickly drag Patroclus to Ilios. And if
this man, this corpse, was dragged from the battle
and brought to Priam’s great city, then the Argives
would quickly give up Sarpedon’s fine armor,
and we would return his body to Ilios. For such
a man did Patroclus serve, best of the Argives
by the ships and leader of the fiercest fighters.
But you lack the courage to stand against great-
hearted Ajax, to eye him in the din of battle,
and to fight him, for he is a better man than you.”

Flashing-helmed Hector scowled and said to him:
“Glaucus, why do you speak with such arrogance?
My friend, I thought you were the most intelligent
man in all of fertile Lycia, but hearing you speak
today, I mock your mind altogether, for you say
I did not stand up to mighty Ajax. I never shrink
from a fight or from the sound of chariots,
but aegis-bearing Zeus’ mind is ever-powerful,
for he forces stout men to flee, easily robbing
them of victory, and rouses weak men to fight.
But come, stand beside me today, and watch me
work; find out whether I am a coward, as you say,
or whether I stop many Danaans eager to prove
their valor by fighting to defend dead Patroclus.”

Saying this, he shouted out to the Trojans, saying:
“Trojans, Lycians, and close-fighting Dardanians,
be men, friends, and remember your rushing rage
while I don the fine armor of noble Achilles that
I stripped from mighty Patroclus after slaying him.”

So saying, flashing-helmed Hector left the fury
of battle and ran off, his swift feet soon carrying
him to his comrades who were carrying the splendid
armor of Peleus’ son back to the city. He stopped
and exchanged armor, giving his old to the warlike
Trojans to carry back to Ilios and donning the divine
armor of Achilles, son of Peleus, which the heavenly
gods gave to his dear father, who then passed
it on to his son when he himself had grown old;
but the son would not grow old in his father’s armor.

Cloud-gatherer Zeus watched him from afar
as he donned the armor of Peleus’ godlike son,
and he shook his head and addressed his own heart:
“Poor man, you think nothing of death though
your time draws near. You dress in the divine
armor of a great man who terrifies others, and you
have slain his kind, strong friend and indecently
stripped the armor from his arms and shoulders.
For now, I will grant you great strength since you
will not return from battle, and Andromache will
not receive from you the famous armor of Achilles.”

The son of Cronos spoke and nodded his brow;
the armor joined with Hector’s skin, filling
his limbs with the might and courage of terrible
Ares, god of war. Then he joined his famed allies,
gave a great cry, and displayed himself before
them in the armor of Peleus’ great-hearted son.
He went through the ranks and inspired each
man with his words: Mesthles, Glaucus, Medon,
Thersilochus, Asteropaeus, Deisenor, Hippothous,
Phorcys, Chromius, and the seer Ennomus.
He stirred them all to action, saying to them:
“Hear me, countless allies from neighboring
tribes: I brought you here from your cities not
because I desired or needed such numbers
but because I knew you would eagerly protect
Trojan wives and children from the battling
Achaeans. This is why I exhaust my people
to feed you, reward you, and bolster your hearts.
Now, each of you, turn and fight the enemy
and live or die, for this is the way of war.
And the man who drags Patroclus’ corpse back
to the Trojans and forces Ajax to give ground
will be given half the spoils, and I the other
half; and his glory will be equal to my own.”

So saying, they raised their spears and charged
at the Danaans with all their weight and with hopes
of dragging the corpse away from Telamonian
Ajax—but he would rob many of their lives,
the fools. Then Ajax himself said to Menelaus:
“Menelaus, my friend, nourished by Zeus, I no
longer expect the two of us to survive this war.
I fear less for this corpse of Patroclus, which will
soon satisfy the birds and dogs of Troy, and more
for the suffering that might fall on my own life
or yours, for Hector and his cloud of war cover
everything and bring destruction down upon us.
Now call the Danaan leaders, if any will listen.”

So he said, and war-crier Menelaus obeyed;
with a piercing cry, he called to the Danaans:
“Friends, leaders, and rulers of the Argives,
you who drink at the table of Atreus’ sons,
Agamemnon and Menelaus, who command
men, and who are given honor and glory
by Zeus, it is hard to see each of you amidst
the blazing strife of battle, but let each man
burn with rage at the idea of Patroclus
being made into a sport for Trojan dogs.”

So he said, and swift Ajax, son of Oïleus,
heard clearly and was first to run into battle,
followed by Idomeneus and his companion
Meriones, equal to man-slaying Enyalius.
As for the rest, who could remember the names
of all Achaeans who were roused for battle?

The Trojans, led by Hector, attacked as one.
Just as a mighty wave at the mouth of a rain-fed
river roars against the current and crashes
into the shore as the salt sea bellows beyond,
so the Trojans bellowed as they advanced.
But the Achaeans stood firm around Patroclus,
fencing him with their bronze shields, while
Cronos’ son spread a thick mist over their bright
helmets, for he had never hated Menoetius’ son
while he lived and attended Achilles, and he
shrank from making him a sport for Trojan
dogs, so he urged his comrades to defend him.

First, the high-hearted Trojans drove the quick-
glancing Achaeans from the corpse, but Trojan
spears slew no men as they began to drag
the corpse away. The Achaean retreat was
short-lived, however, for they soon rallied
behind Ajax, who in looks and in acts of war
surpassed all other Danaans save noble Achilles.
He charged the front lines like a fierce, wild boar
on a mountain who chases off dogs and young
men with ease when he turns on them in a dell;
so noble Telamon’s son, shining Ajax, charged
and easily chased off the Trojan troops
who stood over Patroclus and were eager
to drag him back to the city and win glory.

Hippothous, shining son of Pelasgian Lethus,
was dragging the body by the foot across
the battlefield, having bound his baldric around
the ankle tendons, pleasing Hector and the Trojans.
But evil soon caught him, and none could help.
Telamonian Ajax rushed through the throng
and, with a great spear in his mighty hands, struck
Hippothous’ helmet with bronze cheek-pieces.
The spear-point split the horse-hair crest in two,
and the brains and blood oozed from the wound
along the spear’s socket. Then Hippothous’
strength left him, he dropped great-hearted
Patroclus to the ground, and he himself fell
forward over the corpse, far from fertile Larisa,
never to repay his dear parents for raising him,
his life cut short by great-hearted Ajax’s spear.

Then Hector hurled his shining spear at Ajax,
but Ajax was watching and just managed to dodge
the bronze javelin. Instead, it struck great-hearted
Iphitus’ son, Schedius, best of the Phocians, who
lived in famed Panopeus and ruled many men.
Hector’s bronze landed below the collarbone,
tore through the shoulder, and came out the other
side; and he fell with a thud, his armor clanging.

Ajax next struck Phorcys, skilled son of Phaenops,
square in the belly as he stood over Hippothous,
breaking his breastplate. His bowels gushed out
from the bronze, and he fell to the dust, clutching
the dirt in his hands. The Trojans and Hector
retreated, and the Argives cheered, moved Phorcys
and Hippothous, and started to strip their armor.

The Trojans might have again fled to Ilios,
routed by fear of the Ares-blessed Achaeans,
and the Argives would have won glory beyond
that granted by Zeus for their might and courage,
but Apollo roused Aeneas, disguised as the herald
Periphas, son of Epytus, a kind old man who had
long been herald in the house of Aeneas’ father.
In this guise, Apollo, son of Zeus, spoke to him:
“Aeneas, you could not protect high Ilios against
a god, though I have seen others who believed
in their strength, courage, valor, and numbers
enough to hold their lands against even Zeus.
But Zeus wants us, not the Danaans, to win;
still, you are deathly afraid and do not fight.”

So he said, and Aeneas knew he was looking
at far-shooter Apollo, so he called out to Hector:
“Hector, other Trojan leaders, and their allies,
it is shameful to be driven back to Ilios, routed
by fear of the Ares-blessed Achaeans. But one
of the gods stood beside me and declared that
great counselor Zeus was our ally in the fight,
so let us go straight at the Danaans and not let
them easily return dead Patroclus to their ships.”

So saying, he leapt far past the front lines,
and the Trojans turned to face the Achaeans.
Then Aeneas drove his spear into Leocritus,
son of Arisbas and good friend of Lycomedes.
As he fell, warrior Lycomedes stood beside
him, feeling pity, and shot his shining spear
at Apisano, son of Hippasus, leader of men,
hitting him in the liver, below the chest; and he
fell to his knees, this man from fertile Paeonia
who was second only to Asteropaeus in fighting.

As he fell, Asteropaeus, dear to Ares, felt pity
and flew forward, eager to attack the Danaans,
but he could do nothing, for men with shields
and outstretched spears surrounded Patroclus.
Ajax roamed all around, ordering them not
to retreat from the corpse or to fight alone
in front of the other Achaeans but to stand
strong beside the body and fight hand-to-hand.
As mighty Ajax spoke, the ground grew wet
with black blood and the dead fell atop one
another, both the Trojans and their mighty
allies and the Danaans, whose men also
bled, though fewer fell, for they remembered
to stand as one and protect each other.

They fought like a flaming fire, and it seemed
as if the sun and the moon had disappeared,
for a dark cloud covered the great warriors
who battled around the slain son of Menoetius.
But the other Trojans and the well-greaved
Achaeans fought in the open air with sharp
sunlight all around them and not a cloud
over the mountains or plains; and they fought
in short bursts, avoiding each other’s groaning
spears and standing far apart while the great men
in the middle struggled as they fought in the dark
with pitiless bronze. But two men, famed heroes
Thrasymedes and Antilochus, were unaware
of noble Patroclus’ death and thought him still
alive and fighting the Trojans in the front lines.
They fought apart, protecting their comrades
from death and rout and following the orders
given to them by Nestor back at the black ships.

For the rest of the day the terrible battle raged
on, and each man’s knees, legs, and feet were
spattered with the sweat of toil. Their arms
and eyes were also soaked as the two armies
battled around the attendant of Aeacus’ swift-
footed grandson. Just as a man gives his servants
the fat-drenched hide of a great ox for stretching,
and after taking it they stand in a circle and pull
it apart until the moisture goes away, the fat is
absorbed, and the hide is made level, so a tight
ring of enemies pulled the body this way
and that. The Trojans hoped to drag him
to Ilios and the Achaeans to the hollowed
ships, while all around the wild fight raged on.
Neither Ares the rallier nor Athena, in all
her fury, could scorn the fighting—such were
the wicked deeds of men and horses that Zeus
drew tight over Patroclus that day. At this point,
Achilles knew nothing of Patroclus’ death,
for the battle was fought beneath the walls
of Troy, far from the swift ships. He believed
in his heart that Patroclus would return safely
from the gates, never imagining that he would
sack the city, either with him or without him,
for often, when he was alone, his mother
would bring him reports of great Zeus’ plans.
But she brought him no report of this grave
evil, the death of his dearest companion.

All around the corpse, men with sharp spears
fought without pause and slew one another;
and some bronze-clad Achaean would say:
“There is no honor in returning to the hollow
ships, my friends, so let the black earth open
to receive us all, for that would be better than
letting the Trojans, tamers of horses, drag
this man back to their city and gain glory.”

And some great-hearted Trojan would say:
“My friends, though we may all perish beside
this man, let no one draw back from battle.”

So they would say, rousing each man’s might
as they battled on, and the ceaseless sounds rose
up through the brazen air to the barren heavens.
But Achilles’ horses, far from battle, had been
weeping since they first heard that Patroclus
had fallen to the dust at the hands of Hector,
slayer of men. Automedon, stout son of Diores,
thrashed them with his quick whip and spoke
to them, first gently, then angrily, but they
refused either to return to the broad Hellespont
and the ships or to go back to battle among
the Achaeans. Just as stone pillars stand still
atop the tombs of dead men and women,
so they stood still beside the beautiful chariot,
bowing their heads. And as they mourned
their charioteer, hot tears fell from their eyes
to the earth, staining their splendid manes that
cascaded down the yoke-pads on both sides.

As they wept, Cronos watched them with pity,
shook his head, and spoke to his heart, saying:
“Poor wretches, why did we give you, who are
ageless and immortal, to lord Peleus, a mortal?
Was it so that you could share the pain of men?
For no creature who lives or moves on the earth
is more miserable than man. But Hector, son
of Priam, will not be carried on your well-made
chariot: I will not allow it. Is it not enough that
he has the armor and boasts of it? I will put
power in your knees and heart so you can send
Automedon safely from the fight to the hollow
ships, for I will give the Trojans killing glory
until they arrive at the well-benched ships
and the sun sets and divine darkness comes.”

So he said and breathed into the horses great
power. Shaking the dust from their manes, they
carried the swift chariot through the Trojans
and Achaeans. And Automedon, still mourning
his comrade, fought behind them like a vulture
swooping down on a flock of geese, easily avoiding
Trojan attacks and just as easily charging back
into the throng. But he was unable to slay a single
man, for he could not by himself drive the swift
chariot and attack men with his spear. Soon,
however, Alcimedon, Laerces’ son and Haemon’s
grandson, saw Automedon with his eyes, came
to stand behind his chariot, and said to him:
“Automedon, what god gave you such useless
counsel and robbed you of your good sense?
You are fighting the best Trojans all alone,
your companion is dead, and Hector glories
in wearing Achilles’ armor on his shoulders.”

Then Automedon, Diores’ son, answered him:
“Alcimedon, what other Achaeans could control
and guide the might of these immortal horses
but Patroclus, peer of the gods in counsel when
he lived? But now death and fate have come
for him. So take the whip and glistening reins,
and I will dismount from the chariot and fight.”

Hearing this, Alcimedon jumped on the swift war
chariot and took the whip and reins in his hands
while Automedon jumped off. Meanwhile, shining
Hector saw them and said to nearby Aeneas:
“Aeneas, counselor to the bronze-clad Trojans,
I see the horses of swift-footed Achilles have
come to the battle driven by weak charioteers.
I want to capture them, if you are willing
in your heart to help, since they would not
challenge us if we stood against them in battle.”

So he said, and the noble son of Anchises
obeyed. They set off, their shoulders covered
by rigid, well-dried boar shields fitted with bronze.
And both Chromius and godlike Aretus went
with them, their hearts hoping to slay the men
and capture the horses with high-arched necks,
the fools, for they would not escape Automedon
without bloodshed. And Automedon prayed
to father Zeus, who filled his heart with might
and courage, and he said to his companion:
“Alcimedon, keep the horses close enough
to breathe upon my back, for I cannot hope
to stop the might of Hector, son of Priam,
before he kills us, mounts the fair-maned
horses of Achilles, and routs the Argive ranks
or is himself killed by the foremost fighters.”

Then he called out to Ajax and Menelaus:
“Ajax and Menelaus, leaders of the Argives,
leave the finest fighters behind to stand
around the corpse and drive off the enemy,
and come protect my life on this ruthless day,
for Hector and Aeneas, best of the Trojans,
are heading this way across the tearful battle.
But these things lie on the knees of gods,
so I will hurl my spear, and leave it with Zeus.”

So saying, he poised his long-shadowed spear,
hurled it, and struck the well-balanced shield
of Arteus; the spear tore past the bronze,
through his belt, and into his lower belly.
Just as a strong man with a sharp axe strikes
behind the horns of an ox in a field, severing
the tendons and making the ox flinch and fall
forward, so Arteus flinched and fell on his back,
the sharp spear shaking his bowels and loosing
his limbs. Then Hector shot at Automedon
with his shining spear, but the latter was watching
and ducked to avoid the bronze; the spear hit
the ground behind him, its butt-end quivering,
and only then did mighty Ares cool the weapon’s
fury. Now the two would have fought with swords
had both Ajaxes not intervened, charging
through the throng in aid of their comrade.
Fearing them, Hector, Aeneas, and godlike
Chromius retreated once again, leaving
Arteus lying there, bleeding to death.
Automedon, equal to Ares, stripped him
of his armor and spoke words of triumph:
“Now, in a small way, I have sated my heart
over Patroclus’ death, though this is a lesser man.”

So saying, he set the gory armor in the chariot
and boarded the vehicle himself, his hands
and feet as bloody as a lion after eating a bull.

Once more the mighty battle was drawn over
Patroclus, its pain and tears magnified by Athena,
who came down from heaven by order of Zeus
to aid the Danaans, for he had changed
his mind. Just as Zeus stretches a gleaming
rainbow across the heavens as a sign for mortals
of either war or a cold storm, forcing men
to quit their work on the earth and distressing
the sheep, so Athena, shrouded in a gleaming
cloud, mingled with the Achaean troops
and stirred each man. She first inspired the son
of Atreus, mighty Menelaus, taking the form
and voice of Phoenix and saying to him:
“Menelaus, it will be a source of shame for you
if the trusted comrade of noble Achilles
is torn apart by dogs beneath the Trojan wall.
So have courage and inspire your men.”

War-crier Menelaus answered her, saying:
“Phoenix, my father of old, if Athena grants
me courage and wards off onrushing missiles,
then I will take a stand and protect Patroclus,
for his death has greatly touched my heart.
But Hector has the might of fire and never stops
slaying with bronze, for Zeus grants him glory.”

So he said, pleasing gleaming-eyed Athena,
since he prayed to her before all other gods.
She put strength into his shoulders and knees,
and sent to his chest the courage of a fly who,
though swatted away repeatedly, continues to bite
a man’s flesh to get to his sweet-tasting blood;
so she filled his black heart with courage, and he
stood over Patroclus and hurled his shining spear.
Among the Trojans was Podes, son of Eëtion,
a rich and noble man honored by Hector above
all others, for he had a seat at his table. Fair-haired
Menelaus took his spear and shot a fleeing Podes
in the belt, and the bronze went clean through.
He fell with a thud, and Menelaus dragged
the corpse past the Trojans to his comrades.

Then Apollo came near Hector to inspire him,
disguised as Phaenops, son of Asius, who was
his dearest guest-friend and lived in Abydus.
In this form, Apollo addressed Hector, saying:
“What other Achaean will scare you, Hector?
You have fled from Menelaus, who used to be
considered a soft fighter; now alone he has slain
your trusted friend and fighter Podes, Eëtion’s
son, and taken his corpse away from the Trojans.”

Hearing this, a black cloud of grief shrouded Hector,
and he entered the fight armed with gleaming
bronze. Then Cronos’ son shook his tasseled aegis,
covered Ida in clouds, and sent down a bolt
of lightning and a crash of thunder, giving victory
to the Trojans and forcing the Achaeans to flee.

The first to panic was the Boeotian, Peneleos.
As he turned towards the enemy, he was struck
in the shoulder by nearby Polydamas—a glancing
blow, but the spear point tore through the bone.
Then Hector wounded the wrist of Leïtus, great-
hearted Alectryon’s son, who looked around
and fled, for he knew his wounded hand could
no longer hold a spear and fight the Trojans.
As Hector pursued Leïtus, he was hit in the chest,
near the nipple, by Idomeneus, but the long
spear’s shaft shattered and the Trojans cheered.
Then Hector threw at Idomeneus, Deucalion’s
son, who was standing in his chariot; it missed
him by a fraction, but hit Coeranus, charioteer
and friend of Meriones, who came with him
from well-built Lyctus. Idomeneus left the ships
on foot, and he would have given the Trojans
great glory had Coeranus and his swift horses
not come like a light of hope to ward off his day
of doom; but Coreanus lost his own life when
man-slaying Hector struck him with his spear
below his jaw and ear, tearing out his teeth
and slicing his tongue. He fell from the chariot
and dropped the reins, but Meriones gathered
them up from the plain and said to Idomeneus:
“Whip the horses until you reach the swift ships;
you know the Achaeans have lost their might.”

So saying, a terrified Idomeneus whipped
the fair-maned horses back to the hollow ships.

Ajax and Menelaus saw that Zeus was turning
the tide of battle and giving the Trojans victory;
of the two, Telamonian Ajax was first to speak:
“Now, even a fool can see that father Zeus
himself is helping the Trojans. Their missiles
all hit their targets, no matter who throws them,
be they weak or strong, for Zeus directs them
while ours all fall fruitlessly to the ground.
But come, let us devise the best plan of action,
so we can drag this corpse away, return home,
and bring joy to our dear comrades who grieve
when they see us, believing that man-slaying
Hector’s fury and untouchable hands cannot
be stopped until they reach the black ships.
I wish someone would quickly go to Achilles
and tell him of his dear friend’s death, for I
do not think he has heard the mournful news.
But I see no such man among the Achaeans,
for they and their horses are shrouded in mist.
Father Zeus, lift the mist from the Achaean sons,
brighten the sky, and let us see them with our eyes.
Then, if it pleases you, destroy us in the daylight.”

So he said, and as he wept, Zeus took pity on him
and quickly scattered the darkness and pushed away
the mist. At once, the sun appeared and the battle
was plain to see, and Ajax said to war-crier Menelaus:
“Menelaus, nourished by Zeus, look now and see
if Antilochus, great-hearted Nestor’s son, is alive,
and urge him to go quickly to warlike Achilles
and tell him that his dearest friend is dead.”

So he said, and war-crier Menelaus obeyed,
setting off like a lion who leaves a cattle pen
after growing tired of provoking dogs and men
who stay awake all night long to prevent
the beast from taking the fattest ox; in his lust
for flesh, the lion charges forward all the same
only to meet javelins shot from brave hands
and torches that force him to flee, and despite
his desire, he leaves at dawn with a sullen heart.
So, against his will, great-shouter Menelaus
left Patroclus, fearing that the Achaeans would
leave him to become a prize for the enemy.
He implored the Ajaxes and Meriones, saying:
“Ajaxes, leaders of the Argives, and Meriones,
let each of you remember the kindness of poor
Patroclus, a man who was gentle to all while
he lived, but now fated death has come for him.”

So saying, fair-haired Menelaus went away,
looking around like an eagle, which men say
has the sharpest eyes of all birds under heaven,
for when he hovers high over a swift-footed
hare hiding in a thick-leafed bush, he swoops
down, seizes it, and takes away its life;
so also did the eyes of Menelaus, cherished
by Zeus, scan the throng, searching for Nestor’s
son and hoping to find him still alive.
He soon saw him on the left side of the wide
battle, urging his comrades on in the fight.
And Menelaus went up to him and said:
“Antilochus, dear to Zeus, come and hear
the sorrowful news I wish had never happened.
By now, you have seen that a god has brought
the Danaans misery and the Trojans victory;
The best of the Achaeans, Patroclus, has been
slain, bringing the Danaans great sadness.
Now hurry to the Achaean ships and tell Achilles,
so he can bring back his corpse, which is naked,
for flashing-helmed Hector has taken his armor.”

His words horrified, Antilochus and left him
speechless, his eyes filled with tears and his rich
voice silenced. Still, he did not forget the charge
given him by Menelaus, so he prepared to run,
giving his armor to blameless Laodocus, who
was nearby, wheeling the single-hoofed horses.

He wept as his feet took him away from battle
to bring the terrible news to Achilles, son of Peleus.
Nor were you, Menelaus, blessed by Zeus, willing
to aid his weary comrades after Antilochus left them,
though the men of Pylos felt his absence deeply.
Instead, he sent noble Thrasmedes to them, while
he returned to protect the hero Patroclus. When
he stood beside the Ajaxes, he quickly told them:
“I sent Antilochus to the swift ships to speak
to swift-footed Achilles, but I do not think he will
come, though noble Hector has angered him,
for he would not fight the Trojans unarmed.
But let us devise a strategy that will allow us
to drag the corpse away, to escape a deadly
fate, and to flee the battle cries of the Trojans.”

Then great Telamonian Ajax replied to him:
“All you say is right and true, famed Menelaus.
You and Meriones should swiftly lift the corpse
and carry it away from battle while we two stay
behind and battle the Trojans and godlike Hector,
for we have the same name and the same spirit
and have often stood together in bitter battle.”

Saying this, they took Patroclus in their arms
and lifted him high above the earth. The Trojans
cried out when they saw them lifting the corpse
and charged at them like dogs attacking a wild
boar that a young hunter has shot and wounded;
for a time, they rush on, eager to rip him to pieces,
but then the boar turns and faces them, trusting
his might, and the dogs retreat, scattering in all
directions. So, for a time, did the Trojans charge
as one, wielding swords and double-edged spears,
but whenever the Ajaxes turned to face them,
the color drained from their faces and none
dared to rush out and fight them over the body.

So they carried the corpse away from battle
and to the hollow ships, and the fighting
around them was fierce. Like a wind-assisted
fire that rushes on a city, sets it alight, and turns
houses into flaming embers, so the incessant
roar of chariots and spearmen chased after
them as they hurried away. Just as mules
combine their strength to drag a tree or beam
for a great ship down a rugged mountain
path, their hearts strained by sweat and toil
as they hurry along, so these two hurried
to carry their corpse. Behind them, the Ajaxes
held back the enemy like a wooded ridge
holding back a flood along a flat plain that
tempers the powerful streams of a mighty
river and displaces the currents so the flood
waters never break through. So, in this way,
did the two Ajaxes beat back the battling
Trojans. Still, the Trojans fought on, especially
Aeneas, son of Anchises, and glorious Hector.
Just as a flying cloud of starlings or jackdaws
utter death-shrieks when they see before them
a hawk that brings destruction to small birds,
so the young Achaeans uttered shrieks and took
flight when they beheld Aeneas and Hector.
Many pieces of armor fell around the trench
as the Danaans fled, but the war never stopped.