So the dread battle between Trojans and Achaeans
was left to itself, and combat swayed this way
and that over the plain as men with bronze spears
clashed between the Simoïs and Xanthos rivers.

Ajax, son of Telamon, Achaean defender, was
first to break the Trojan ranks, clearing a path
for his men by slaying Acamas, son of Eussorus,
powerful and tall and best of the Thracians.
He struck the horsehair plume on his helmet
and drove the bronze point through his forehead
and into bone as darkness covered his eyes.

Then war-crier Diomedes struck down Axylus,
son of Teuthras, who lived in well-built Arisbe,
a wealthy man beloved of all, for he treated
visitors to his house by the road with kindness.
But on this day there were none to stand before
him and ward off wretched ruin, for Diomedes
took the lives of both he and his charioteer
Calesius, and they both went into the earth.

Euryalus next killed Dresus and Opheltes
and went after Aesepus and Pedasus, sons
of the nymph Abarbarea and blameless Bucolion.
Bucolion was noble Laomedon’s eldest-born,
but his mother bore him out of wedlock.
He bedded the nymph while tending his sheep,
and she conceived and bore him twin sons.
But Euryalus broke their strong, glorious limbs
and stripped the armor from their dead shoulders.

Stout Polypoetes also struck down Astyalus,
Odysseus and his bronze spear slew Pidytes
of Percote, and Teucer slew noble Aretaon.
Nestor’s son Antilochus used his shining spear
to kill Ablerus, and lord Agamemnon slew Elatus
who dwelt in high Pedasus beside the fair river
Satnioeis. And the warrior Leitus killed a fleeing
Phylacus while Eurypylus took out Melanthius.

Then war-crier Menelaus took Adrestus alive
after his two panic-stricken horses got tangled
in a tamarisk and took flight over the plain,
breaking the curved chariot at the pole
and running back to the city, terrifying many.
He fell and landed face-first by the chariot
wheel, his mouth filled with dust, and Menelaus
came near holding his long-shadowed spear.
Adrestus grabbed his knees and begged him:
“Spare me, son of Atreus, and receive a suitable
prize. In my father’s house there are great
treasures: gold, bronze, and well-worked iron.
My father would grant you countless ransoms
if he learns I am alive by the Achaean ships.”

His words persuaded Menelaus in his heart,
who started to give the man to his aide to be
taken to the Achaean ships; but Agamemnon
ran over to him and spoke words of rebuke:
“Dear Menelaus, why do you care so much
for these men? How did the Trojans treat you
in your home? Let none escape their dreaded
fates by our hands; even the unborn boy
in his mother’s womb should not escape. Let
all of Ilios perish, unmourned and forgotten.”

This call for justice changed Menelaus’ mind.
He pushed Adrastus away and Agamemnon,
lord of men, speared his flank, and he fell
backwards. Then the son of Atreus set his foot
on his chest and pulled out his ashen spear.

Nestor shouted and called out to the Achaeans:
“My friends, heroes of Danaan, servants of Ares,
do not hold back now in search of spoils, hoping
to carry the largest hoard back to the ships.
First, kill the men; then return later to strip away
the armor from the corpses across the plain.”

His words stirred each man’s strength and spirit.
And the overpowered Trojans would have been
forced by the warlike Achaeans to go back to Ilios
had not the great augur Helenus, son of Priam,
gone up to Aeneas and Hector and said:
“Aeneas and Hector, since the burden of battle
is heaviest on you among Trojans and Lycians,
for you are best both in fighting and advising,
stand your ground and go around to the men
and make them stay outside the gates and not flee
into their wives’ arms—to your enemy’s delight.
When all ranks have been roused into action,
the rest of us will hold here and fight the Danaans
no matter our weariness, for it is necessary.
But you, Hector, must return to the city and tell
our mother to assemble the older women
at grey-eyed Athena’s shrine high in the citadel,
bringing with her a robe that seems the largest,
most beautiful, and most precious in the palace;
she should then go into the sacred temple, lay
the robe upon fair-haired Athena’s knees
and vow to sacrifice in her shrine twelve young
heifers, ungoaded, so the goddess may take
pity on Troy and its women and children
and keep away from Ilios the son of Tydeus,
the savage spearman and master of terror
who I say is the mightiest of the Achaeans.
Not even Achilles, leader of men and son
of a goddess, was feared as much as this
man who is unrivaled in rage and might.”

So he said, and Hector obeyed his brother.
He leapt fully-armed from the chariot wielding
two sharp spears and roamed through the army
urging all to fight and rousing the din of war.
So they turned to face the Achaeans, who
recoiled and ceased their slaughter, thinking
an immortal had flown down from heaven
to protect the rallying Trojans. Then Hector
lifted his voice and cried out to the Trojans:
“Great-hearted Trojans and famed allies,
be men, friends, and remember your raging
spirit while I go back to Ilios and tell
the elder counselors and our wives to pray
to the gods and offer them hecatombs.”

So bright-helmed Hector said and departed,
and the black-hide edges of his embossed
shield struck against both his ankles and neck.

Then Glaucus, son of Hippolochus, and the son
of Tydeus went to the space between the armies,
eager for a fight. When they closed on one
another, war-crier Diomedes spoke first:
“My friend, who among mortal men are you?
I have never before seen you on the battlefield
of glory, but now you have boldly pushed
past all others to face my long spear, though
those whose sons face my might despair.
But if you are an immortal who has come
down from heaven, then I will not fight you.
Not even Lycurgus, stout son of Dryas, lived
long when he fought the gods of heaven.
He once drove the nurses of furious Dionysus
from sacred Nysa, dropping their wands
on the ground as murderous Lycurgus struck
them with an ox-whip and Dionysus, terrified
by the man’s shouts, fled beneath the waves
where Thetis received him into her bosom.
The easy-living gods were furious at Lycurgus,
and the son of Cronos blinded him, and soon
after he died, hated by the immortal gods.
This is why I would not fight the blessed gods.
But if you are mortal and eat the fruits of the soil,
then come closer so you may soon find death.”

The shining son of Hippolochus replied to him:
“Son of noble Tydeus, why ask of my lineage?
The generations of men are like those of leaves.
Just as the wind blows leaves to the ground
but the rich forest flourishes anew every spring,
so one generation of men rises as another
dies. But if you wish to learn my lineage,
then I will tell you, for many know it already.
The city of Corinth lies in a corner of horse-
grazing Argos, where lived the son of Aeolus,
crafty Sisyphus, who had a son called Glaucus,
who in turn sired blameless Bellerophon,
who was granted beauty and fair manliness
by the gods. But powerful Proetus, whom Zeus
made subject to his scepter, hated him
in his heart and drove him out of Argos.
The wife of Proetus, beautiful Anteia, madly
desired to lie with Bellerophon, but she could
not persuade him, for his mind was virtuous.
So she lied to King Proetus, telling him:
‘Kill yourself, Proetus, or kill Bellerophon,
for he desired to lie with me but I refused.’
Hearing her words, he became furious,
but his heart shrank from killing the man,
so he sent him to Lycia with many deadly
guest-tokens scratched onto a folded tablet,
which he was told to present to his wife’s father.
So he went to Lycia under escort of the gods.
When he came to Lycia and the river Xanthos,
the king of Lycia eagerly honored him, hosting
him for nine days and sacrificing nine oxen.
But on the tenth day, when rosy-fingered dawn
appeared, the king asked to see the tokens
that were sent from his son-in-law Proetus.
After receiving the tokens, he sent Bellerophon
away with orders to kill the great Chimera.
She was of divine origin, not mortal; her front
was lion, her back was serpent, her middle
was goat, and she breathed terrible fire.
He killed her, obeying the omens of the gods.
Then he fought the famous Solymoi, which he
said were the toughest warriors he ever fought.
Finally, he killed the Amazons, a match for men.
As he returned, the king devised a cunning trick:
he selected the best men in all Lycia and set
a trap. But they never returned to their homes,
for blameless Bellerophon killed them all.
When the king realized this man was a powerful
son of a god, he detained him and offered him
his daughter and half of his princely honor,
and the Lycians designated for him a beautiful
estate with fine orchards and plow lands.
His bride bore to skilled Bellerophon three
children: Isander, Hippolochus, and Laodamia.
Laodamia lay with counselor Zeus, and she
bore godlike Sarpedon, marshaller of spears.
After Bellerophon became hated by the gods,
he walked alone over the Aleion plain, eating
his heart out and avoiding the haunts of men.
His son Isander was slain by furious Ares
while fighting the famous Solymoi, and Artemis
of the golden reins killed his daughter in anger.
And Hippolochus beget me, and so I say he is
my father, and he sent me to Troy, charging
me to always be brave and noble and not
to bring shame on my forefathers, who were
the best in Corinth and in wide Lycia.
This, I declare, is my heritage and my blood.”

So he said, and war-crier Diomedes rejoiced,
fixing his spear in the grain-giving earth
and kindly addressing this shepherd of men:
“Then you are a friend of my father’s house!
Noble Oeneus once hosted blameless
Bellerophon in his great hall for twenty days,
and the men exchanged fine gifts of friendship.
Oeneus gave a bright red warrior’s belt,
and Bellerophon gave a two-handled cup of gold
which I left at home when I came here. But I
do not recall my father Tydeus, for I was a child
when he and the Achaean army died in Thebes.
So now I am your host when you are in Argos,
and you to me in Lycia when I visit the land.
Let us leave our spears, even in this throng;
there are other Trojans and their allies to slay,
either sent by the gods or overcome by foot,
and many Achaeans for you to slay, if you can.
And let us exchange armor, so others may know
we are guest-friends from our fathers’ days.”

Once finished, they dropped from their chariots,
took each other’s hands, and pledged friendship.
Then Zeus robbed Glaucus of his wits when he
exchanged his golden armor, worth a hecatomb,
for the bronze of Diomedes, worth nine oxen.

But as Hector reached the Scaean gates and oak
tree, Trojan wives and daughters ran to him
asking about their sons, brothers, fathers,
and friends; but he commanded them all to pray
to the gods, and sorrow hung over the crowd.

Then he arrived at Priam’s beautiful palace,
built with well-wrought colonnades and fifty
interconnected sleeping chambers made
of polished stone, and within these chambers
Priam’s sons slept with their wedded wives.
On the other side of the courtyard, there stood
twelve interconnected roofed chambers made
of polished stone, and within these chambers
Priam’s sons-in-law slept with their revered wives.
Hector was met by his generous mother
and by Laodice, the fairest of her daughters.
Clasping her hands to his, Hecuba said to him:
“Son, why did you leave the bitter battle and come
here? The hated Achaeans must be exhausting
you as they fight near the city, and you are here
to lift your hands to Zeus from atop the citadel.
But wait while I bring you honey-sweet wine
for a libation to Zeus and the other immortals,
and then you can also have a drink, if you wish.
Wine strengthens men grown weary from work,
and you are weary from defending your people.”

In reply, great Hector of the glancing helm said:
“Bring me no honey-hearted wine, lady mother,
lest you hobble me and take my strength and vigor.
Hands this dirty dare not offer bright wine to Zeus,
nor can a man so befouled with blood and gore
make prayer to the black-clouded son of Cronos.
Instead, gather the elder women and bring a burnt
offering to the temple of Athena, driver of spoils,
bringing with you a robe that seems the largest,
most beautiful, and most precious in the palace;
then lay the robe upon fair-haired Athena’s
knees and vow to sacrifice twelve young heifers,
ungoaded, so the goddess may take pity
on Troy and its women and children and keep
away from Ilios the son of Tydeus, the savage
spearman and master of terror. Now go
to Athena’s shrine, and I will seek out
Paris to summon him, if he will listen to me.
I wish the earth would swallow him whole,
for Zeus bred him to be a curse on the Trojans,
on great-hearted Priam, and on his sons.
If I could see him sink down to Hades,
then my heart would be free of painful misery.”

So Hecuba went into the house and called
her servants to assemble the city’s elder women,
and she went down to the fragrant storeroom
where her many-colored robes were kept, the work
of Sidonian women taken from Sidon
by godlike Alexander when he sailed the wide
sea and brought noble-born Helen to Troy.
Hecuba took as offering for Athena a robe
hidden under the others; it was the largest
and finest in design, and it shone like a star.
Then she left, and the elder women followed.

When they came to Athena’s shrine atop
the citadel, the door was opened for them
by fair-cheeked Theano, daughter of Cisses,
wife of Antenor, and Trojan priestess of Athena.
With a loud cry, they all raised up their hands
to Athena while fair-cheeked Theano took
the robe, laid it on the knees of fair-haired
Athena, and prayed to great Zeus’ daughter:
“Lady Athena, brightest of goddesses, protector
of the city, take pity on the city and on Trojan
wives and children. Shatter Diomedes’ spear
and grant him to fall face-first before the Scaean
gates, so we may immediately sacrifice twelve
yearling heifers, ungoaded, in your shrine.”

So she prayed, but Pallas Athena refused her.

As they prayed to the daughter of great Zeus,
Hector went to Alexander’s house—a fine
palace that had been built with the finest
craftsmen in fertile Troad; they made for him
a chamber, hall, and courtyard near Priam’s
and Hector’s houses in the citadel. So Hector,
dear to Zeus, entered, his hands holding
a spear of eleven cubits with a shaft tipped
with blazing bronze and a ferrule of gold.
Inside, he found Paris working on his beautiful
shield and breastplate and handling his bow
while Argive Helen sat with her servants
and supervised their elegant craftwork.
Hector, seeing Paris, reproached him, saying:
“You fool, it is no good hiding away with anger
in your heart, for men are perishing beyond
the city’s walls, and it is your fault the cries
of battle burn around us; you yourself would
upbraid anyone else who hung back from hated
war, so get up or soon the city will be on fire.”

In reply, godlike Alexander answered:
“Hector, you reproach me rightly and justly,
so I will tell you and hope you understand.
I did not sit in my room to spite or reproach
the Trojans but to wallow in my grief.
Just now my wife used soft words to urge me
back to battle, and this seems to me the best
choice, as well, for victory is always in flux.
So wait for me as I don my war gear, or go
now and I will follow and catch up to you.”

So he said, but bright-helmed Hector did not
reply; then Helen spoke gentle words to him:
“Brother-in-law of a hated, hurtful bitch,
I wish on the day my mother bore me that
a violent storm had hurled me into a mountain
or into the waves of a roaring sea, to be swept
away before all this came to pass. But since
the gods have ordained these woes, then I
wish I had been wife to a better man, one
who could feel the indignation of others.
His judgment is unbalanced, and it always
will be; this, I think, will be his undoing.
But come inside, brother, and take a seat,
for great toil fills your mind because
of my shamelessness and Alexander’s foolish
folly. Zeus has placed a wicked curse upon
us, to become songs for men not yet born.”

Then great Hector of the bright helm replied:
“Do not ask me to sit, dear Helen, for you
will not persuade me; my heart aches to aid
the Trojans, who are lost when I am away.
But rouse this man and hurry him along
so he can catch up to me before I leave the city.
First I will go home to see my servants, my dear
wife, and my infant son, for I do not know
if I will return to them again, or if the gods
will slay me with the hands of the Achaeans.”

So saying, bright-helmed Hector went away
and soon arrived at his own pleasant home,
but white-armed Andromache was not there
for she, her child, and a well-robed handmaid
were standing on the wall, weeping and wailing.
When Hector could not find his blameless wife,
he went to the door and asked the serving women:
“Tell me, handmaidens, where did white-armed
Andromache go when she left the hall? Did she
go to my sisters, to my brother’s well-robed wives,
or to Athena’s shrine with all the other Trojan
women praying to appease the dread goddess?”

Then a handmaid readily replied to him:
“Hector, since you order us to speak the truth,
she did not go to your sisters or your brother’s
wives or Athena’s shrine, where the well-dressed
Trojan women seek to appease the dread goddess;
rather, she went to the great wall of Ilios, having
heard of Trojan setbacks against the mighty
Achaeans. Thus she hurried to the wall in great
distress along with the nurse carrying her child.”

So spoke the housekeeper, and Hector went
away, hurrying back along the well-made streets
of the great city until he came to the Scaean
gates. As he was about to head onto the plain,
his bountiful bride came running to meet him,
Andromache, daughter of great-hearted Eëtion,
who lived under well-wooded mount Placus
in Hypoplakia and ruled the Cilicians;
his daughter was wife to bronze-clad Hector.
She came to him, accompanied by her nurse
who held to her breast a tender child,
Hector’s beloved son, as beautiful as a star.
Hector called him Scamandrius, but others
Astyanax, for Hector alone guarded Ilios.^[1]
He smiled in silence as he glanced at the boy,
but Andromache wept as she approached
him, and taking her hand in his, she said:
“My dearest, your bravery will destroy you,
and you have no pity for your son or for me,
a soon-to-be widow, for soon all the Achaeans
will rise up and slay you. If I should lose you,
I would sink into the earth, for there will be
no comfort for me, only pain, once you have
met your fate. I have no father or mother,
for my father was slain by noble Achilles,
who ravaged the fair city of Cilicians Thebes
of the lofty gates. He slew Eëtion, but did not
strip his armor, a sign of respect, and instead
burnt the body in his armor and covered him
in a barrow circled by elm trees planted
by nymphs, daughters of aegis-bearing Zeus.
And my seven brothers in our great halls
all went down to Hades on the same day,
slain by swift-footed, noble Achilles beside
their shambling oxen and white-fleeced sheep.
My mother, queen under well-wooded Placus,
was brought here with the other prizes; Achilles
freed her after accepting ransoms, but she was
killed in her father’s halls by Artemis, shedder
of arrows.^[2] Hector, you are now my father, my
mother, my brother, and my vigorous husband,
so pity me, stay on the wall, and do not make
your child an orphan and your wife a widow.
Station your men by the wild fig tree, where
the wall can be scaled and the city overrun.
Three times the best men came to attempt
an assault: both Ajaxes, glorious Idomeneus,
the sons of Atreus, and the stout son of Tydeus.
Either some skilled soothsayer told them
or their spirits stirred them to make the assault.”

Then bright-helmed Hector replied to her:
“Lady, I fear these things too, but I would feel
shame before the Trojans and Trojan wives
with trailing robes should I cowardly shirk battle;
nor will my heart allow it for I have learned
to excel in fighting on the Trojan front ranks,
winning great glory for my father and myself.
For I know in my mind and in my heart that
sacred Ilios will one day be laid waste, as will
Priam and all those under Priam’s ashen spear.
But I am troubled less by the woes to come
for the Trojans, for Hecuba, for King Priam,
and for my many noble brothers sure to fall
in the dust at the hands of hostile men,
and more by your tearful suffering on the day
some bronze-clad Achaean takes your freedom.
Then in Argos you will work another’s loom,
carry water from Messeïs or Hyperia against
your will, and heavy burdens will be laid on you.
And one day a man will see you crying and say:
‘This is Hector’s wife. When men fought
in Ilios, he was the best of all horse-taming
Trojans.’ But his words will renew your pain
at losing the man who kept you from slavery.
May I be dead and covered in earth before
I hear your cries as you are dragged away.”

So saying, Hector reached for his son, who
went crying into his nurse’s well-girdled
bosom, for he feared the sight of his dear
father’s bronze armor and the horse-hair crest
that nodded menacingly from atop his helmet.
His dear father and honored mother laughed,
and glorious Hector removed his gleaming
helmet and set it down upon the ground.
Then he kissed his son, held him in his arms,
and prayed to Zeus and the other immortals:
“Zeus and all other gods, grant this child to be,
like me, noble and strong among the Trojans
and a powerful leader of Ilios. And on return
from war, let men say, ‘He is better than
his father,’ for he kills his foe, bears his bloody
spoils, and gladdens his mother’s heart.”

So he said, and placed the child in his wife’s
arms; and she took him into her fragrant bosom,
smiling through her tears. Seeing this, Hector
took pity on her and stroked her, saying to her:
“Do not let your grief for me destroy you.
No man will send me to Hades unless it is fated,
and no man can escape his fate once he
is born, neither cowardly men nor nobles.
But go into the house and focus on your loom
and your distaff and order your handmaids
to their work as well; let war be the concern
for all men who live in Ilios, but especially me.”

So shining Hector picked up his horsehair
helmet while his loving wife returned home,
occasionally turning back and shedding tears.
Soon she was back at man-slaying Hector’s
fine palace where she found many handmaids
stirred by her arrival into lamentation.
Thus Hector’s house mourned him though
he himself lived, for none believed he would
return from war or escape Achaean fury.

And Paris did not loiter long in his lofty home,
for after donning his brilliant bronze armor
he ran through the city, trusting his swift feet.
Just as a well-fed horse confined to a manger
exults as he breaks his bonds and gallops over
the plain to a bathing spot on the fair-flowing
river, then holds his head high and tosses
his mane as he marvels at his beauty, and his legs
hurriedly take him to a pasture full of mares,
so went Paris, Priam’s son, shining in his armor
like the sun and laughing as his swift feet carried
him down from atop Pergamus. Soon he came
upon his brother, noble Hector, just as he was
about to turn after conversing with his wife.
And godlike Alexander was first to speak:
“Brother, I fear my long delay held you back
and kept you from making a quick departure.”

Then Hector of the bright helm answered him:
“Odd man, no right thinker would dishonor
your work in battle, since you have courage;
but you are lazy and unprepared, and it grieves
my heart to hear insults about you from the lips
of Trojans who suffer in battle because of you.
But let us go; we will atone later, should Zeus
and the immortal gods in heaven grant us to set
an offering for freedom in the large hall after
we drive the well-greaved Achaeans out of Troy.”