As Dawn’s saffron robes spread over the earth,
thunder-making Zeus assembled the gods
on the highest peak of rocky Olympus
and addressed them, and all the gods listened:
“Hear me, all of you gods and goddesses,
as I say what the heart in my chest commands.
Let no immortal, man or woman, go against
my plans, but let all agree so I may bring
these matters to a speedy end. If any of you
attempt to aid the Trojans or Danaans,
you will be hit with lightning on return
to Olympus, or I shall take and hurl you
down to murky Tartarus, in the deepest
pit under the earth, with gates of iron
and a threshold of bronze, as far from Hades
as heaven is from earth. Then you will know
my power over all other gods. Come, gods,
and try it so you may know. If you hung
a golden chain from the heavens, and if all
you gods and goddesses took hold and pulled
with all of your might, you could never drag
the great counselor Zeus down to the ground.
But whenever I take it in my mind to pull,
I would drag you all up—and the earth and sea
as well—then bind the rope to a jutting peak
on Olympus, so you all hang in mid-air.
Such is my power over all gods and mortals.”

So he said, and all fell silent, struck with awe
at the power of his address. Eventually,
gleaming-eyed goddess Athena replied:
“Our father, son of Cronos, lord above all,
we well understand your unstoppable might;
but we have pity for the Danaan spearmen
who must fulfill a terrible destiny and die.
Still, we will obey you and refrain from battle;
but we will help the Argives with wise advice,
so your rage does not wholly consume them.”

Smiling, cloud-gatherer Zeus replied to her:
“Courage, Tritogeneia, dear child; I do not
speak in earnest, for I wish to be kind to you.”

So saying, he yoked his chariot to his bronze-
hoofed, swift-flying horses with manes of gold;
he then clothed himself in gold, took his finely-
made golden whip, boarded the chariot, lashed
the steeds, and set off; and they flew eagerly
between the land and starry skies. Soon he came
to Ida of many springs and to Gargaron, mother
of wild beasts, his holy home and smoky altar.
The father of gods and men then stopped,
unyoked, and spread a mist around his horses.
And he sat on the peak, rejoicing in his splendor
and watching the Trojan city and Achaean ships.

Now the long-haired Achaeans took their meals
speedily in their tents and armed themselves.
In the city, Trojans also donned their armor;
though fewer, they readied to fight a necessary
battle to protect their wives and children.
As the gates opened, a great noise rose up
as the army filed out on foot and in chariots.

When the armies came together in one
place, the bossed shields and spears clashed
against each other, the bronze-clad warriors
filled the field with the roars of triumph
and the cries of misery from the slayers
and slain alike, and the earth flowed with blood.

So long as it was morning on that sacred day,
missiles from both sides hit their targets and men
fell. But as Helios stood at heaven’s peak,
Zeus lifted his golden scales and placed in them
two deadly fates: one for the horse-taming
Trojans and one for the well-greaved Achaeans.
And the scales of doom sank on the Achaeans,
thus setting their fates upon the bountiful
earth and lifting Troy’s to the wide heavens.
From Ida, Zeus thundered loudly, sending
a fire onto the Achaean army, and the sight
terrified them and filled them with pale panic.

Idomeneus took flight, as did Agamemnon
and the two Ajaxes, but Nestor of Gerenia,
guardian of the Achaeans, could not flee,
for Alexander, Helen’s husband, had struck
Nestor’s horse with an arrow to the crown,
a deadly spot where hair first grows on a horse’s
skull. As the arrow sank into his brain,
the horse leapt in agony, throwing the team
into panic as he writhed against the bronze
point. As the old man quickly darted down
and cut the trace harness with his sword,
the swift horses of Hector charged, carrying
their bold charioteer, Hector. And Nestor
would have lost his life had war-crier Diomedes
not noticed him and called to Odysseus:
“Godlike son of Laertes, wily Odysseus, why
do you run, turning your back like a coward?
Do not let them spear you but stay and help
me protect Nestor from this wild warrior.”

So he said, but stout Odysseus did not hear as
he darted past on his way to the hollow Achaean
ships. But the son of Tydeus, battling the front
ranks alone, stood before the horses of the old
man, the son of Neleus, and addressed him:
“Old man, the young fighters are too much
for you; you are too old, your strength is spent,
your attendant weak, and your horses slow.
But come, board my chariot, and see the Trojan
horses I seized from Aeneas, deviser of doom,
and marvel at how they speed over the plain
either in pursuit or in retreat. Our attendants
will tend to your horses as we drive against
the horse-taming Trojans so Hector may know
if my spear rages in the palm of my hands.”

So he said, and Nestor, horseman of Gerenia,
obeyed. The attendants, strong Sthenelus
and kind Eurymedon, tended to Nestor’s mares
while Nestor boarded Diomedes’ chariot,
took the glittering reins in his hands, whipped
the horses, and closed quickly on Hector.
As they charged, Tydeus’ son shot his spear
at him but missed and hit his driver, Eniopeus,
son of great-hearted Thebaeus, as he was
driving, striking him in the chest by the nipple.
He fell from the chariot, the swift-footed
horses recoiled, and his strength and spirit
left him. Hector’s mind was awash in sorrow
for his driver, but though grieving, he left
him there and sought a new charioteer;
he soon found one, the son of Iphitus, bold
Archeptolemus, who quickly mounted behind
the horses and took the reins in his hands.

Then death and out of control fighting would
have penned them against Ilios like lambs,
but the father of gods and men was watching;
he thundered terribly and sent a bright bolt
that landed in front of Diomedes’ horses; a foul
fire arose, burning of sulphur and terrifying
the horses who jumped against the chariot.
Nestor’s hands slipped from the shining reins,
his heart full of fear as he called to Diomedes:
“Come, son of Tydeus, turn your single-hoofed
horses. Do you not know that you cannot defeat
Zeus? The son of Cronos gives glory to that man
today; tomorrow he will grant it to us, should
he wish it. No man can fight the mind of Zeus,
not even one so strong, for he is far stronger.”

Then great war-crier Diomedes answered him:
“Yes, old man, all you have said is proper,
but this is a great grief to my heart and soul,
for one day Hector will tell the Trojans:
‘The son of Tydeus fled from me to his ships.’
When he so boasts, may the earth consume me.”

And Nestor, horseman of Gerenia, replied:
“Alas, son of skilled Tydeus, what a thing to say.
Even if Hector calls you foul and feeble, neither
the Trojans nor the Dardanians will believe you,
nor will the wives of the great-hearted Trojan
warriors whose husbands you have turned to dust.”

So saying, he turned his horses and fled through
the throng while the Trojans and Hector made
a divine noise and showered them with missiles
laden with woe, and great-helmed Hector cried:
“Son of Tydeus, the swift-horsed Danaans gave
you the honored seat, rich flesh, and full cups;
now they dishonor you for acting like a woman.
Go away, weak puppet, for before I give way
and let you take our towers and drag our women
to your ships, I will send you to your doom.”

So he said, and the son of Tydeus considered
turning the horse around and fighting the enemy.
Three times his heart and mind considered this,
and three times counselor Zeus on Mount Ida
thundered, a sign that the battle turned for Troy,
and Hector cried out to the Trojans, saying:
“Trojans, Lycians and Dardanians fighting hand
to hand, be men and have courage. The son
of Cronos has granted victory and great
glory for me but misery for the Danaans.
The fools have also built a weak and worthless
wall that will not stop my might and have dug
a trench that my horses will easily hurdle.
But whenever I reach their hollowed ships,
then let some remember to bring blazing
fire so I may burn their ships and slay any
Argives who are panicking from the smoke.”

He finished and then shouted to his horses:
“Xanthus, Podargus, Aethon, and divine
Lampus, now repay Andromache, daughter
of great-hearted Eëtion, for giving you
constant care, honey-hearted wheat, and mixed
wine to drink to your heart’s content even
before she served me, her vigorous husband.
But hurry along so we can take Nestor’s
shield, whose fame reaches heaven and is solid
gold, cross-rods and shield alike; and also take
from horse-tamer Diomedes his breastplate,
finely-fashioned by Hephaestus. If we take
these, then perhaps the Achaeans will sail
away this very night on their swift ships.”

So he boasted, but noble Hera was furious
She started from her seat, making tall Olympus
quake, and she addressed mighty Poseidon:
“Alas, mighty earth-shaker, the heart in your
breast now has no pity for the dying Danaans.
But they bring to Helice and Aegae many fine
offerings, and you wished them victory. So if we
who favor the Danaans wished it, we could drive
back the Trojans and restrain far-seeing Zeus,
and he would sit alone grieving on Mount Ida.”

Greatly vexed, the mighty earth-shaker replied:
“Hera, reckless in speech, what are you saying?
I certainly do not want us all fighting Zeus,
son of Cronos, for he is by far the strongest.”

As they spoke to one another, the space between
the ships and the trench and wall that protected
them was filled with chariots and shield-bearing
soldiers, all penned in by Hector, Priam’s son,
equal to swift Ares and granted glory by Zeus.
And he would have destroyed their ships by fire
if honored Hera had not put into Agamemnon’s
mind to quickly go and rouse the Achaeans.
So he went past the tents and Achaean ships,
held his great purple cloak in his strong hands,
and stood near the huge black ships of Odysseus
in the camp’s center, so his voice could be heard
from Telamonian Ajax’s tents to those of Achilles,
for they had drawn their ships at either end,
trusting in their mettle and their powerful hands.
With a great shout, he addressed the Danaans:
“Shame on you Argives, you worthless soldiers!
What happened to our bragging, our idle boasts
of bravery that we made in Lemnos as we ate
plentiful meat from straight-horned oxen, drank
mixing bowls filled with wine, and said that each
man would stand in battle against one or two
hundred Trojans? Now we cannot fight one man,
Hector, who will soon engulf our ships in fire.
Father Zeus, what other mighty king have you
recklessly blinded and then deprived of honor?
As I journeyed here in my well-benched ships,
I never passed one of your fine altars without
offering sacrifices of burnt fat and thigh-bones
of oxen in my desire to sack well-walled Troy.
But Zeus, fulfill this wish for me today: grant
that we may run away and escape, and do not
let the Achaeans be conquered by the Trojans.”

So he said, and as his tears fell, Zeus felt pity
and nodded his head, thus sparing his men.
At once, he sent a sure sign: an eagle holding
in his talons a fawn, youngest of deers. It fell
beside the fine altar where Achaeans offered
sacrifices to Zeus, source of all omens. Seeing
that the bird was from Zeus, the men eagerly
leapt on the Trojans, their battle lust restored.

Though numerous, no other Danaan could
drive his swift horses ahead of Tydeus’ son
as he drove across the ditch and joined the battle;
he was the first to kill a Trojan warrior, Agelaus,
Phradmon’s son. As he turned to flee, Diomedes
stuck a spear in his back, between his shoulder
blades, and drove it through his chest; and he fell
from his chariot, his armor clanging around him.

Then came the sons of Atreus, Agamemnon
and Menelaus, followed by both Ajaxes, clothed
in swift fury. Next were Idomeneus and Meriones,
his comrade, equal to Enyalius, slayer of men,
along with Eurypylus, noble son of Euaemon.
And Teucer, his bow bent back, was the ninth
and stood behind Telamonian Ajax’s shield.
When Ajax moved his shield for him, the hero
peered out, spotted his target, and shot. Once
the victim fell, Teucer returned to hide behind
the shield like a child hiding behind his mother;
so Ajax covered him with his shining shield.

Which Trojan was first slain by noble Teucer?
First was Orsilochus, then Ormenus, Ophelestes,
Daetor, Chromius, godlike Lycophontes,
Polyaemon’s son Amopaon, and Melanippus—
one after the other they fell to the rich earth.
Seeing so many Trojan ranks felled by Teucer’s
mighty bow, lord of men Agamemnon rejoiced
and came to stand beside him, and said to him:
“Teucer, dear man, son of Telamon, lord of men,
your archery brings light to the Danaans
and glory to your father, who reared you
and cared for you in his home even though
you were a bastard, and now you honor him,
though he is far away. I say this to you now,
and it will come to pass: if aegis-bearing Zeus
and Athena grant me to sack well-walled Ilios,
the first prize of honor after mine will be
yours: a tripod, two horses and a chariot,
or a woman who will go into your bed.”

Then noble Teucer answered him, saying:
“Great son of Atreus, why hurry me when I am
already eager? Since we started driving them
back to Ilios, I have waited with my bow,
slaying men, never stopping or exhausting
myself. I shot eight arrows with long barbs,
and all have struck the flesh of swift-fighting
young men, but I still cannot hit this mad dog.”

He spoke, drew his bowstring, and sent another
arrow straight at Hector, determined to hit him;
but the arrow missed him and instead struck
the chest of blameless Gorgythion, Priam’s fair
son, born to a married mother from Aesyme,
beautiful Castianeira, as shapely as a goddess.
Just as a garden poppy hangs heavy with fruit
and the showers of spring, so too did his head
hang to one side, weighed down by his helmet.

Again Teucer drew his bowstring and shot
an arrow straight at Hector, determined to hit him;
but the arrow missed, pushed aside by Apollo,
and instead hit Archeptolemus, Hector’s bold
charioteer, in the chest near the nipple as he raced
into battle. He fell from the chariot as the swift-
footed horses recoiled, and his spirit and strength
left him. Hector’s mind clouded over with grief
for his driver, but he left him there and told
his brother Cebriones, who was nearby, to take
the reins, and his brother heard and obeyed.
With a terrible cry, Hector leapt from his shining
chariot, picked up a stone, and went straight
for Teucer, determined to strike him. Teucer
took a sharp arrow from his quiver and put it
on the bowstring, but as he drew the shaft back
to his collar-bone, between his neck and chest,
shining-helmed Hector threw a jagged stone
and hit him with deadly fury. The strike snapped
the bowstring and made his arm grow numb;
he fell to one knee and dropped the bow.
But Ajax did not fail to aid his fallen brother,
running and protecting him with his shield.
Then two dear friends, Mecisteus, Echius’
son, and noble Alastor, lifted a groaning
Teucer and carried him to the hollow ships.

Once again the Olympian fired the Trojans’
fury, and they forced the Achaeans back against
the deep trench, led by Hector, who exulted
in his might. Just as a swift-footed dog in pursuit
of a wild swine or lion seizes him from behind
at the hip joint or rump but watches carefully
as he tries to twist free, so Hector chased the long-
haired Achaeans, slaying the stragglers as they
took flight. After they had fled past the stakes
and trench, and after many had been slain
by Trojan hands, they stopped beside their ships
and called to each other and to all the gods,
lifting their hands and praying, while Hector
whirled around on his fair-maned horses,
his eyes like the Gorgon or destroyer Ares.

Seeing them, white-armed goddess Hera took
pity and quickly spoke winged words to Athena:
“Alas, child of aegis-bearing Zeus, are we not
to care one last time for the suffering Danaans?
Now they will fulfill a dreaded destiny
and fall due to the rage of one man, Hector,
son of Priam, who has done great damage.”

Gleaming-eyed goddess Athena answered her:
“Truly I wish the man would lose his soul,
killed in his father’s land by Argive hands;
but my father’s wicked and unyielding mind
is bent on rage and thwarts my desires.
He forgets that I often saved his son Heracles
when the tasks of Eurystheus weakened him.
Indeed, he would cry out to heaven, and Zeus
would send me down to aid him. If my wise
heart had known this when Heracles was sent
to Hades of the gate to lead the hated god’s
dog out of Erebus, then he would not have
escaped Styx’s high waters. Now Zeus slights
me by fulfilling the plans of Thetis, who kissed
his knees, cupped his chin, and begged him
to honor Achilles, sacker of cities. One day,
he will again call me his grey-eyed girl.
But now, make ready the single-hoofed horses
while I go to aegis-bearing Zeus’ home
and don my armor so I may see if Priam’s
son, shining-helmed Hector, will rejoice
to see us on the battlefield, or if the Trojans
will satisfy the dogs and birds when their fat
and flesh fall beside the Achaean ships.”

So she said, and white-armed Hera, Cronos’
daughter, did not disobey but harnessed
the horses with frontlets of gold. But Athena,
daughter of aegis-bearing Zeus, let fall
on her father’s floor her ornamented robe,
which she herself had made, donned the tunic
of cloud-gathering Zeus, and armed herself
for the miseries of war. She then boarded
the shining chariot and grabbed the large,
heavy, and sturdy spear she used to destroy
the ranks of soldiers who angered the mighty
sire’s daughter. Hera quickly whipped her horses,
and heaven’s gates groaned open by order
of the Hours, who control whether the thick
clouds of Olympus are opened or closed.
And through the gates sped the goaded horses.

When Zeus saw them from Ida, he grew angry
and sent golden-winged Iris to deliver a message:
“Go, swift Iris, turn them back, and do not let
them come here, since it would be unwise for us
to fight. For I say this and know it will come
to pass: I will cripple their swift horses, hurl
the goddesses from their seats, and smash
their chariot. And the wounds my thunderbolts
inflict on them will not be healed for ten years,
so Athena may know what it is to fight her father.
But I feel no great anger or indignation for Hera,
for she always tries to undermine my commands.”

So he said, and storm-footed Iris took his message
and left the mountains of Ida for high Olympus.
At the first gates of many-peaked Olympus,
she met them and relayed the words of Zeus:
“Where are you going? Why do your hearts rage?
Zeus forbids you from giving aid to the Achaeans.
Whatever Cronos’ child threatens shall come
to pass: he will cripple your swift horses, hurl
you from your seats, and smash your chariot.
And the wounds his thunderbolts inflict on you
will not be healed for ten years, so you, bright-
eyes, may know what it is to fight your father.
He feels no great anger or indignation for Hera,
for she always tries to undermine his commands.
But you, bold bitch, are truly unbearable if you
dare to raise your mighty spear against Zeus.”

So she said, and swift-footed goddess Iris
departed. Then Hera said to Athena:
“Well, child of aegis-bearing Zeus, I cannot
let us battle Zeus for the sake of mortal men.
Let one live and another die, as fate dictates;
and let him decide in his heart who shall
win, the Trojans or Danaans, as is his right.”

Saying this, she turned her single-hoofed horses
back, and the Hours unyoked their harnesses,
secured the fair horses in their fragrant mangers,
and set the chariot against the radiant inner
walls. The goddesses then sat on the golden
couches with the other gods, their spirits dashed.

Then Zeus drove his fine chariot and horses
from Ida to Olympus and reached the assembled
gods. The great earth-shaker freed his horses,
put his chariot on its stand and covered it
in cloth. Then far-seeing Zeus sat on his golden
throne, and beneath his feet great Olympus
shook. Athena and Hera sat apart from Zeus,
neither speaking to him nor questioning him,
but his mind knew all, and so he asked them:
“Why so troubled, Athena and Hera?
Surely you are not worn out from destroying
in glorious war the Trojans you despise.
My power and reach are now so invincible
that no Olympian gods could turn me back,
and trembling took hold of your limbs long
before you saw war and war’s gristly deeds.
For I say this and know it will come to pass:
once struck by my lightning, you would never
return to Olympus, home of the immortals.”

So he said as Athena and Hera murmured
to each other, devising death for the Trojans.
Still, though she was furious at her father
Zeus, Athena stayed silent and said nothing;
but Hera did not contain her rage, telling him:
“Dreadful son of Cronos, what are you saying?
We know that your strength is not feeble,
but we feel pity for all the Danaan warriors
whose deadly destinies will now be fulfilled.
We shall refrain from battle if you order it,
but we will aid the Argives with counsel
so they do not all perish due to your wrath.”

Cloud-gatherer Zeus replied to her, saying:
“At dawn, ox-eyed goddess Hera, you will see,
if you wish, Cronos’ mighty son lay waste
to a multitude of Achaean warriors, for mighty
Hector will keep fighting until the day Peleus’
swift-footed son is roused to join the dire battle
over Patroclus’ corpse in the narrow pass
by the ships’ sterns; so it shall be. But I do
not care for your anger, not even if you reach
the lowest levels of sea and land where Iapetus
and Cronos sit in deep Tartarus with neither
the rays of Helios Hyperion or the wind
to delight them. Even if you reach that
place, I will care nothing for your fury,
for there are none more reckless than you.”

So he said, but white-armed Hera did not reply.
Then the sun’s bright light sank into Oceanus,
bringing black night over the grain-giving earth.
Darkness came against the will of the Trojans,
but it was a sweet answer to Achaean prayers.

Then shining Hector assembled the Trojans
away from the ships, beside a whirling river,
in a clear space freed of any corpses. They
stepped from their chariots to the ground
to hear the words of Hector, dear to Zeus,
whose hands held a spear eleven cubits long,
with a tip of blazing bronze and a ring of gold.
Leaning on the spear, he addressed the Trojans:
“Listen to me, Trojans and Dardanian allies:
I wanted to destroy the Achaeans and all
their ships and return home to windy Ilios,
but darkness has come and has saved the Argives
and their ships along the shore of the sea. So let
us resign ourselves to black night and prepare
our meal. First, unyoke your fair-maned horses
from the chariots and feed them fodder. Then
from the city quickly fetch oxen and fat sheep
and from our homes procure honey-sweet wine
and bread. Finally, gather ample wood, so that
all through night until the early-born dawn we
can burn many fires, their light reaching heaven;
otherwise, the long-haired Achaeans may flee
during the night across the sea’s wide waves.
Do not let them board their ships with ease,
but fire arrows or sharp spears as they spring
to their ships, making them nurse their wounds
once home, so others may shrink from bringing
wrathful war upon the horse-taming Trojans.
Let the Zeus-loved heralds announce to the city
that young boys and grey-headed old men
should take their stations along the god-built
city walls, let each woman build a great fire
in her great hall, and let a vigilant watch
be kept so none may ambush the city while
the army is away. So let it be as I proclaim,
great-hearted Trojans; and let these orders
stand for now, but at dawn I will have more
to say. I pray in hope that Zeus and the other
gods will chase away these dogs born by doom,
which death carried here in their black ships.
Now, tonight we will maintain our positions,
but before dawn breaks, we will arm ourselves
and attack the hollow ships with fierce fury,
and I will know if mighty Diomedes forces
me back from the ships to the wall, or if I will
slay him with bronze and carry off his gory
spoils. Tomorrow, if he can face my spear,
he will know his valor, but I think he will be
among the first to be cut down, surrounded
by many allies, when the sun rises tomorrow.
If only I were immortal, ageless, and held
in honor like Athena or Apollo, then surely
the coming day brings death for the Argives.”

So Hector spoke, and the Trojans shouted
approval. They unyoked the sweating horses
and tethered them with reins to their chariots.
Then they quickly brought oxen and fat sheep
from the city, honey-sweet wine and bread
from their homes, and ample wood for fires.
Finally, they offered hecatombs to the immortals.
The wind carried the pleasant smell of burnt
flesh over the plain, but the gods did not
feast, for they truly hated sacred Ilios, Priam,
and the people of Priam of the ashen spear.^[1]

All night long, these noble-hearted men sat
beside the battlefield, fires blazing all around.
Just as the stars and moon in heaven shine
clearly when the air is windless, revealing every
mountain peak and high bluff and deep dell,
and the aether^[2] clears the sky so all the stars
are seen, delighting the shepherd’s heart,
so shone the Trojan fires blazing between
the ships and the river Xanthos, beside Ilios.
A thousand fires blazed across the plain,
each one warming the faces of fifty men.
And by the chariots, horses ate white barley
and oats, waiting for Dawn to take her seat.