So saying, shining Hector and his brother
Alexander ran through the gates, both
eager in their hearts to fight and to battle.
Just as a god grants fair winds to supplicant
sailors whose limbs have become exhausted
from driving the sea with well-polished oars,
so the two appeared to the needy Trojans.

Then Paris slew the son of King Areithous,
Menesthius of Arne, born to club-bearer
Areithous and ox-eyed Phylomedusa;
and Hector struck his spear in the neck
of Eïoneus, under his helmet, and his limbs
collapsed. And Glaucus, son of Hippolochus
and Lycian leader, shot his spear at Iphinous,
son of Dexius, as he mounted his swift mares;
he fell from his chariot and his limbs went limp.

When bright-eyed goddess Athena saw
the Argives dying in the fierce fighting,
she shot down from the peaks of Olympus
to sacred Ilios, and Apollo, desiring victory
for Troy, raced from Pergamus to meet her.
They came together beside the oak tree,
and lord Apollo, son of Zeus, spoke first:
“Daughter of mighty Zeus, why has your strong
spirit brought you down here from Olympus?
Do you seek victory in battle for the Danaans?
Clearly, you care nothing for the Trojan dead.
But it would be better if you took my advice:
let us put an end to today’s war and strife.
Later they will fight until victory over Ilios
is achieved, since the hearts of you immortal
goddesses seem set on the city’s destruction.”

Bright-eyed goddess Athena replied to him:
“So be it, free worker. This is why I came down
from Olympus to the Trojans and Achaeans.
But how do you plan to stop these men fighting?”

Then lord Apollo, son of Zeus, answered her:
“Let us stir the anger of horse-tamer Hector
so he will challenge some Danaan to fight
him face-to-face in dreaded combat; then
the bronze-greaved Achaeans will grudgingly
send out one man to battle noble Hector.”

So he said, and gleaming-eyed Athena obeyed.
Helenus, Priam’s dear son, heard in his heart
the discussion of the gods and their agreement,
and he came up to Hector and said to him:
“Hector, son of Priam, equal to Zeus in counsel,
listen to my words now, for I am your brother:
make all the Trojans and Achaeans sit together
and challenge the best of the Achaeans
to fight you in single combat to the death;
for I heard the voice of the immortal gods say
that it is not your fate to meet your doom today.”

Hector was greatly pleased to hear these words,
and he went among the Trojans, using his spear
to restrain the front lines until all were seated.
Agamemnon made all the Achaeans sit as well,
and Athena and Apollo of the silver bow took
the form of vultures, sat atop the oak tree
sacred to their father, aegis-bearing Zeus,
and happily watched the huddled soldiers,
bristling with their shields, helmets, and spears.
Like a fresh West Wind spreading ripples over
the water and darkening the depths below,
so sat the lines of Achaeans and Trojans
on the plain as Hector spoke to both armies:
“Listen, Trojans and well-greaved Achaeans,
as I speak what is in my heart and in my soul:
Zeus, seated on high, failed to fulfill our oaths.
He has devised wicked plans for both sides
until you either come to sack well-walled Troy
or you are routed beside your seafaring ships.
You are all best among Achaeans, so let
the one whose heart urges him to fight me
now come here and challenge noble Hector.
So I declare, and let Zeus be our witness:
if he slays me with a sharp bronze spear, then
strip my armor and take it to the hollow ships,
but let my body be taken home so Trojan men
and wives may offer death rites by funeral pyre.
But if I slay him and Apollo grants me glory,
then I will strip his armor, take it to sacred
Ilios, and hang it on the shrine of far-shooter
Apollo, but his corpse may return to the well-
benched ships so the long-haired Achaeans
may bury him and build a barrow by the wide
Hellespont. And some future men, as he
sails his ships over the wine-dark sea, will say:
‘There lies the barrow of a man who was killed
long ago by brave and glorious Hector.’
So he will say and so my glory will never die.”

So he said, and all fell silent, ashamed
to refuse him but afraid to take the challenge.
Eventually, Menelaus stood. A deep groan
filled his heart as he reproached them, saying:
“You boastful women, not men, of Achaea.
Surely it will be a sore and sorry disgrace
if no Danaan goes against Hector today.
Let all of you become water and earth as
you sit there, spiritless and inglorious. I will
arm myself against this man, though victory
is in the hands of the immortal gods above.”

So saying, he began to don his fine armor,
and you, Menelaus, would have seen your life
come to an end under the superior hands
of Hector had the Achaean king, lord
Agamemnon, son of Atreus, not seized you
by the right hand, called you by name, and said:
“Menelaus, dear to Zeus, stop being a fool.
There is no reason to put yourself in danger
and fight a foe as powerful as Hector,
son of Priam, who others also fear. Even
Achilles shrinks from fighting him for honor,
and he is far better than you. So go and sit
among your comrades, and let the Achaeans
pick another champion, one who is fearless
and insatiable in battle and who will, I think,
gladly bend his knee if he can escape
this bitter battle and dreadful combat.”

So the hero said, his wise words winning over
his brother, who obeyed; and his attendants
gladly removed his armor from his shoulders.
Then Nestor rose to speak to the Argives:
“Great grief has come to the land of Achaea,
and old horse-tamer Peleus, wise Myrmidon
counselor and speaker, would groan in dismay.
Once, in his house, he rejoiced as I recalled
the lineage and legacy of the Argives. If he
could hear these men cowering before Hector,
then he would pray that the gods rip his breath
from his body and send him to Hades. O father
Zeus, Athena and Apollo, if only I were as
young as I was when the Pylians and Arcadians
met by the rushing Celadon and fought under
Pheia’s walls, beside the streams of the Iardanus.
Godlike Ereuthalion was their champion.
He wore on his shoulders the armor of King
Areithous, whom men and fair-girdled women
called club-bearer because he used not a bow
or long spear but an iron club when battling
and breaking battalions. Lycurgos killed him
not by might but by trickery, springing on him
in a narrow pass where his iron club could
not protect him, spearing him in the chest,
dropping him to the earth, and stripping away
his armor, a gift from brazen Ares. Thereafter
Lycurgos wore this armor in battle, but when
he was an old man in his great hall, he gave
the armor to his dear attendant Eruthalion.
Wearing this armor, he challenged the bravest
men, but they were too afraid to fight him.
But my unflinching heart boldly urged me
to fight him, though I was youngest of all.
So I fought him, and Athena gave me glory.
He was the tallest and strongest man I ever
killed; his huge sprawling body spread everywhere.
If I were younger and stronger, then glancing-
helmed Hector would find me fighting him.
But though you are all the finest of Achaeans,
none of you have the guts to fight Hector.”

After the old man’s reproach, nine men stood.
First to rise was Agamemnon, lord of men,
followed by Tydeus’ son, mighty Diomedes,
the two Ajaxes clothed in rushing courage,
and Idomeneus and his comrade Meriones,
equal to man-slaying Enyalius. Then came
Eurypylus, noble son of Euaemon, and Thoas,
Andraemon’s son, and finally noble Odysseus.
All were willing to battle noble Hector.
Then Nestor, horseman of Gerenia, spoke again:
“Now cast lots in turn to determine who wins,
for he will benefit both the well-greaved
Achaeans and his own heart, if he can escape
this bitter battle and dreadful combat.”

So saying, each man marked his lot and threw
it into Agamemnon’s helmet, and the army
lifted their hands to the gods and prayed,
each man looking to the heavens and saying:
“Father Zeus, let the lot fall on Ajax or the son
of Tydeus or the king of golden Mycenae.”

As they prayed, Nestor, horseman of Genenia,
shook the helmet, and Ajax’s lot popped out,
the one most desired. The herald carried it
through the throng, showing it to all Achaean
leaders, but none of them recognized the mark.
Then he carried it to the man whose mark it
was, glorious Ajax. As soon as the herald put
the lot in Ajax’s hand, Ajax’s heart rejoiced
for he saw that it was his. He threw the lot
on the ground beside his feet and cried out:
“My friends, the lot is mine, and my heart
rejoices, for I think I will defeat noble Hector.
But do this for me: while I don my battle
armor, pray to lord Zeus, son of Cronos,
either in silence to yourself so no Trojan can
hear you, or out loud since we fear no man
and no one can by force or by skill drive me
away against my will, for no man born
and raised in Salamis can be called a novice.”

So he said, and all gazed up to the heavens
and prayed to lord Zeus, son of Cronos, saying:
“Father Zeus, who rules from Ida, greatest
and noblest, grant victory and honor to Ajax;
or if you also love Hector and care for him,
then grant both equal power and glory.”

As they prayed, Ajax donned his bright armor,
and when his body was covered in bronze,
he ran off like monstrous Ares when he heads
to battle with men brought together by the son
of Cronos to fight in heart-devouring strife.
So also did monstrous Ajax, the Achaean wall,
dash off, his shaggy face smiling and his long-
shadowed spear shaking with each giant step.
The Argives looked upon him and rejoiced,
but each Trojan’s knees quivered with dread,
and even Hector’s heart started beating faster.
But he could not retire or retreat back behind
the ranks, for it was he who made the challenge.
Ajax drew near carrying a towering bronze shield
with seven layers of ox-hide, made by Tydeus
of Hyle, the finest of leather-workers, who made
him a gleaming shield using seven stout oxen
hides and an eighth layer of bronze, and this is
what Telamonian Ajax held against his chest as
he stood near Hector and threatened him, saying:
“Hector, now you will know clearly what kind
of great men there are among the Danaans
besides lion-hearted Achilles, breaker of ranks.
He may be lying by his curved seafaring
ships, enraged at Agamemnon, herder
of men, but we are here, we are many,
and we are ready for you. Now let us fight.”

And Hector of the flashing helm answered:
“Godlike Ajax, son of Telamon, lord of men,
do not try to frighten me like some feeble child
or woman who knows nothing of war. I know
all about war and the slaughter of men, and I
know how to move left and right with my ox-hide
shield, my bulwark in battle, and how to charge
into battle with my swift chariot, and how
to stand and dance the war dance to Ares.^[1]
But I do not wish to deceive you and take you
unawares but to openly try to hit my mark.”

So saying, he aimed his long-shadowed spear,
threw it, and hit Ajax’s terrible shield with seven
layers of ox-hide and one of bronze. The spear
tore through six leather layers, but the seventh
held it back. Then Ajax, sprung from Zeus,
threw his long-shadowed spear and hit the well-
balanced shield of Priam’s son. The mighty
spear pierced his shining shield, forced its way
into his well-wrought breastplate, and cut
into his tunic beside his flank, but he turned
away in time and avoided black death. The two
men pulled the long spears out of their shields
and rushed each other like ravenous lions
or wild boars, whose powers are not feeble.
Hector struck his spear square in Ajax’s shield,
but the bronze held and the point bent back.
Then Ajax’s spear-point punctured Hector’s
shield and cut into his neck, forcing him back
as black blood oozed out. But shining-helmed
Hector did not quit; instead, he drew back
and, with his strong hands, seized a jagged black
stone lying on the plain. This he hurled square
onto the boss of Ajax’s terrible ox-hide shield,
making the bronze layer ring. Ajax then lifted
an even bigger stone, whirled around, threw it
with all his strength, and tore Hector’s shield
apart like a millstone. Hector’s knees gave out
and he fell on his back, close to the shield,
but Apollo lifted him up. Now a close
quarters sword battle would have begun had
the heralds, messengers of Zeus and men,
not arrived, a Trojan and an Achaean,
Talthybius and Idaeus, wise men both.
They separated the men with their staffs,
and Idaeus addressed them with wise words:
“No more fighting or battling, dear children.
Both of you are loved by cloud-gatherer Zeus,
and both are skilled fighters; we all know this.
Now Night is here, and we should obey her.”

Telamonian Ajax then answered them:
“Hector should speak these words, Idaeus,
for it was he who called our best to battle.
Let him begin, and I will obey what he says.”

Then Hector of the flashing helm replied:
“Ajax, since a god gave you strength, stature,
and wisdom, and since you are the best Achaean
spearman, we should stop fighting and battling
for today; later we will battle until the gods
decide to grant victory to one side or the other.
Now Night is here, and we should obey her,
so you can cheer all Achaeans by their ships,
especially your kinsmen and comrades; and I
shall gladden King Priam’s great city of Troy,
both the men and the women with flowing robes
who will offer the gods prayers of thanks for me.
But come, let us exchange gifts with each other,
so that Achaeans and Trojans alike will say:
‘though the two battled with relentless strife,
they formed an alliance and departed as friends.’”

So he spoke and gave to him his silver sword
along with its scabbard and well-made baldric;^[2]
and Ajax gave to him his bright red warrior’s belt.
And so they separated, one to the Achaean army
and the other to the Trojan throng. The Trojans
cheered to see that Hector had escaped mighty
Ajax and his invincible hands, and they who
thought him doomed led him back to the city.
And Ajax rejoiced in victory as the well-greaved
Achaeans led him to noble Agamemnon.

When they came to the tents of Atreus’ son,
Agamemnon, lord of men, slew a five-year-old
bull as sacrifice to the mighty son of Cronos.
They flayed, dressed, and divided the victim,
and then skillfully sliced and spitted the meat,
roasted it carefully, and drew out each piece.
When the work was done and the meal ready,
they feasted, and all ate to their heart’s content.
And Ajax was honored with the prime cut
by the heroic son of Atreus, lord Agamemnon.
When they had taken their fill of food and drink,
aged Nestor, the best of all counselors,
began to weave his wise words of counsel;
with good intent, he addressed the assembly:
“Son of Atreus and the other Achaean leaders,
many long-haired Achaeans lie dead, their blood
shed around the far-flowing Scamander by eager
Ares, their souls descending to Hades. Thus we
must halt Achaean fighting at dawn, gather
the corpses, wheel them off with oxen and mules,
and burn them away from the ships so each man
may carry their bones back to their children
when we return home to our father’s land.
And near the pyre we will make a barrow out
on the plain, and around it we will quickly build
a high wall to defend the ships and ourselves.
In the wall we will add a well-fitted gate,
one large enough for a chariot to drive through;
and just outside we will dig a deep trench
able to hold back chariots and soldiers
should the Trojans bear down and attack us.”

So he spoke, and all the kings approved.
Meanwhile, the Trojans held a fierce and chaotic
assembly in Ilios’ citadel, beside Priam’s doors.
Thoughtful Antenor was the first to speak:
“Listen to me, Trojans and Dardanians and allies,
for I say what the heart in my chest commands.
Come, let us give Argive Helen and her treasures
to the sons of Atreus to carry off, for now we are
fighting after breaking solemn oaths. I expect
nothing positive to come if we do not do this.”

When finished speaking, he sat, and noble
Alexander, husband of fair-haired Helen,
rose and replied to him with winged words:
“Antenor, your words are not pleasing to me;
and you know better than to utter them.
But if you are truly speaking in earnest,
then the gods themselves have ruined your mind.
But I will declare this to all horse-taming
Trojans: though I will not give back my wife,
I will return all the treasure I took from Argos,
and I will add to it gifts from my own house.”

He finished speaking and sat, and up rose Priam,
son of Dardanus, equal to the gods in counsel,
who addressed them with well-meaning words:
“Listen to me, Trojans and Dardanians and allies,
for I say what the heart in my chest commands.
Take your evening meal across the city, as before,
and remember your guard duty, so all are watchful;
then, at dawn, Idaeus will go to the hollow ships
and tell Atreus’ sons, Agamemnon and Menelaus,
the words of Alexander, who started this strife.
And give them this shrewd suggestion in hopes
that they will pause this woeful war until our dead
are burned; later we will again fight until the gods
decide to grant victory to one side or the other.”

So he said, and all eagerly listened and obeyed;
Soldiers took their evening meals in their quarters,
and in the morning Idaeus went to the hollow ships.
He found the Ares-aided Danaans assembled beside
the stern of Agamemnon’s ship, and the herald
stood among them and spoke with a loud cry:
“Son of Atreus and other noble Achaean leaders,
Priam and the other noble Trojans have ordered
me to convey, in hopes that they meet your approval,
the words of Alexander, who started this strife.
All the treasure brought to Troy in hollow ships
by Alexander—would that he perished first—
will be returned along with gifts from his house.
But he will not give back the lawful wife of glorious
Menelaus, though all Troy asks him to do this.
They asked me also to add a request, in hopes that
you agree, to pause this woeful war until our dead
are burned; later we will again fight until the gods
decide to grant victory to one side or the other.”

So he spoke, and all assembled fell silent;
eventually, the great war-crier Diomedes spoke:
“Let no man take from Alexander either treasure
or Helen; even the most foolish man knows
that death’s cord has touched the Trojans.”

So he said, and all sons of Achaea shouted
cheers for the words of horse-taming Diomedes.
Then lord Agamemnon said to Idaeus:
“Idaeus, clearly you heard for yourself the answer
given by the Achaeans; and I agree with them.
As for burning corpses, I do not begrudge you,
for there is no time to waste in quickly setting
fire to the dead once the bodies have perished.
Let Zeus, Hera’s thundering lord, hear our oaths.”

Saying this, he lifted his staff to all the gods,
and Idaeus went back to sacred Ilios.
The Trojans, Dardanians, and other allies
sat in assembly, waiting for Idaeus to return;
and he came, stood among them, and delivered
his message. Then they made quick plans for some
to gather bodies and others to gather wood.
And the Argives ran from the well-built ships,
some to gather bodies, others to gather wood.

Helios was fresh on the fields, having risen
out of the deep, gentle waters of Oceanus
to climb the sky, when the two armies met.
It was hard to distinguish one man from another,
but with water they washed away the blood
and lifted them into wagons, shedding tears.
But great Priam forbade wailing, so they grieved
in silence as they heaped the corpses on the pyre,
burnt them to ash, and returned to sacred Ilios.
Similarly, the Achaeans grieved quietly as they
heaped corpses on the pyre, and when all
were burnt, they returned to the hollow ships.

When it was not yet dawn but night neared its end,
a chosen group of Achaeans came to the pyre
and formed atop it an endless barrow stretching
over the plain. Beside it they built a wall with high
ramparts to defend their ships and themselves;
in the walls they added well-formed gates
to provide a way for chariots to pass through;
and outside the wall they dug a deep trench,
great and wide, and then planted stakes in it.

As the long-haired Achaeans toiled, the gods
sat beside Zeus, lord of lightning, and looked
down on the bronze-clad Achaeans’ great work;
and earth-shaker Poseidon was first to speak:
“Father Zeus, is any man on this wide earth willing
to declare to the immortals his mind and plans?
Do you not see that the long-haired Achaeans have
built a wall and laid a trench to defend their ships
without offering the gods glorious hecatombs?
Surely its fame will spread as far as dawn itself,
and men will forget the wall Phoebus Apollo
and I struggled to build for the hero Laomedon.”

A vexed cloud-gatherer Zeus answered him:
“What a thing to say, mighty earth-shaker.
Other gods might fear such thoughts, ones
feebler than you in hand and might, but your
fame will surely spread as far as dawn itself.
However, once the long-haired Achaeans have
returned in their ships to their dear fatherlands,
you can smash the walls, sweep them out to sea,
and cover the wide beach with sand again,
thus destroying the great wall of the Achaeans.”

So the gods spoke to one another as the sun set.
When the Achaeans finished their work, they
slaughtered oxen and took their evening meal
by their tents. The ships from Lemnos brought
much wine, sent by Jason’s son, Euneus, whom
Hypsipyle bore to Jason, shepherd of men.
Euenos gifted a thousand measures of wine
to Atreus’ sons, Agamemnon and Menelaus,
but the rest of the long-haired Achaeans bought
wine: some for bronze or shining iron, others
for skins or live oxen, and still others for slaves;
and all prepared a splendid feast. All night
long the long-haired Achaeans feasted, as did
the Trojans and their allies in the city. But all
night long counselor Zeus terrified them
with wicked thunder. Seized with a pale green
fear, no one drank wine from their cups without
first pouring an offering to the mighty son
of Cronos. Then they lay down and fell asleep.