And on me—wretched and still sentient—have pity,
born to ill fate, whom on the threshold of old age father Zeus son of
Kronos
will blight in unendurable fate, when I have seen
the destruction of my sons, the abduction of my daughters,
my chambers ravaged, and innocent children
hurled to the ground in the terror of battle;
my daughters-in-law abducted by the wicked hands of Achaean men,
and I myself, last of all, at my very gates, my dogs
will rip raw, when some man with sharp bronze
stabbing or casting will strip the spirit from my limbs—
the dogs I raised in my halls and fed at my table as guardians of my
gates,
these, maddened by the drinking of my blood,
will sprawl in my doorway. All is decorous for the young man
slain in war, torn by sharp bronze,
laid out dead; whatever shows, everything is seemly when he dies.
But when the dogs defile the white head and white beard
and the private parts of a dead old man—
this is most pitiable for wretched mortals.”
So the old man spoke, and pulled his white hair with his hands,
tearing it from his head. But he did not persuade the heart of Hektor.
Now in turn his mother wailed, raining tears,
loosening her robe, with a hand she exposed her breast
and raining tears addressed him with winged words:
“Hektor, my child, be moved by this and have pity on me,
if ever I used to give you my breast to soothe you
—remember those times, dear child, defend yourself against this
deadly man
from inside the walls; don’t stand as champion against him,
my stubborn one. If he cuts you down, I will surely never
mourn you on your deathbed, dear budding branch, whom I bore,
nor will your worthy wife. But a long way from us
by the ships of the Achaeans the running dogs will eat you.”
Thus both of them weeping addressed their dear son,
repeatedly beseeching. But they did not persuade the heart of Hektor,
but he awaited Achilles, who was looming huge as he drew near.
As a snake by its hole in the mountains waits for a man,
having tasted evil poisons, and an unendurable gall comes upon it,
and it shoots a stinging glance, coiled by its hole,
so Hektor keeping his spirit unquelled did not retreat
and leaned his shining shield against the jutting tower;
agitated, he spoke to his great-hearted spirit:
“O me, if I enter the gates and walls
Poulydamas will be the first to reproach me,
who bade me lead the Trojans to the city,
that baneful night when Achilles the godlike rose,
but I was not persuaded. It would have been far better if I had.
Now since I have destroyed my people by my recklessness,
I dread the Trojan men and the Trojan women with their trailing
robes,
lest some other man more worthless than me say:
‘Hektor, trusting in his strength, destroyed his people’—
thus they will speak. It would be far better, then, for me
to confront Achilles, either to kill him and return home
or to die with honor at his hands, before my city
—but what if I put aside my studded shield
and my strong helmet, leaned my spear against the walls,
and, going out alone, approached noble Achilles
and pledged to him Helen and the possessions with her?
All those things—as much as Alexandros carried away to Troy
in his hollow ships, which was the beginning of our quarrel—
to give to the sons of Atreus to lead away; and in addition
to divide everything else with the Achaeans, whatever this city holds,
and after that to make a formal oath with the Trojan council
not to hide anything, but to divide it all, equally,
whatever wealth this dear city guards within—
but why does my spirit recite these things?
I could set forth to meet him and he not pity me,
nor even respect me, but kill me naked as I was,
as if I were a woman, since I would have put off my armor.
It is not now possible from rock or oak, in the country way,
to chatter to him those things that a young girl and youth
chatter to each other, a girl and youth—
we shall see to whom the Olympians give glory.”
Thus his thoughts churned as he waited, and Achilles drew near
equal to the War God, the helmet-shaking warrior,
brandishing his Pelian ash spear above his right shoulder,
terrifying. The bronze glinted around him like the flare
of blazing fire or of the sun rising.
And as he watched him, trembling took hold of Hektor; and he could
no longer endure
there to stand his ground but left the gates behind, and, terrified,
he ran.
The son of Peleus charged for him, trusting in the swiftness of his feet;
as a mountain hawk, lightest of all things on wings,
easily swoops after a terror-stricken dove,
which, away from under, flees, but crying sharply near
he swoops continuously and his spirit drives him to take her,
so Achilles flew straight for him, ravenous, and Hektor fled
under the walls of Troy, working his swift knees.
Past the watch place and the wild fig tree twisted by wind,
always away from the walls, along the wagon path they ran,
and reached the two fair-flowing streams, where the two springs
gush forth from the whirling waters of Skamandros.
One flows with warm water, enveloped with steam smoke
that comes from it as if from a burning fire.
The other even in summer runs as cold as hail,
or snow water, or ice that forms from water.
Near to these there are the broad washing hollows
of fine stone, where their lustrous clothes
the Trojan wives and their beautiful daughters washed
in those days before, in peacetime, before there came the sons of the
Achaeans.
By this place they ran, one fleeing, the other behind pursuing.
Outstanding was he who fled ahead—but far better he who
pursued him
swiftly, since it was not for a sacral animal nor for an ox hide
they contended, prizes in the races of men—
but they ran for the life of Hektor breaker of horses.
As when prizewinning horses with their uncloven hooves
tear around the turning post—a great prize awaits,
a tripod, or a woman, in those games held when a man has died—
so three times around the city of Priam they whirled
in the swiftness of their feet, and all the gods looked on.
To them the father of men and gods spoke the first word:
“Alas, it is a dear man whom my eyes see
pursued around the wall; my heart grieves
for Hektor, who has burned many thigh cuts of sacral oxen to me,
both on the summit of Ida of the many glens and at other times
on the heights of his citadel. But now godlike Achilles
pursues him in the swiftness of his feet around the city of Priam.
But come, you gods, consider and take council
whether we shall save him from death or,
noble though he is, at the hands of Pel
eion Achilles break him.”
Then the gray-eyed goddess Athene answered him:
“O father of the bright thunderbolt and black clouds, what have you
said?
This man who is mortal, consigned long ago to fate—
you want to take him back and free him from the harsh sorrow of
death?
Do so; but not all the other gods will approve.”
In answer, Zeus who gathers the clouds addressed her:
“Take heart, Tritogeneia, dear child. I did not now
speak in earnest; I am willing to be solicitous of you.
Act in whatever way your mind intends, nor hold back any longer.”
So speaking, he urged Athene, who had been eager even before;
and she went, slipping down from the peaks of Olympos.
Relentlessly, swift Achilles kept driving Hektor panicked before him,
as when a dog in the mountains pursues a deer’s fawn
that he has started from its bed through glens and dells,
and though, cowering in fright, it eludes him beneath a thicket,
the dog runs on, tracking it steadily, until he finds it—
so Hektor could not elude Achilles of the swift feet.
Each time he made to dash toward the Dardanian Gates,
under the well-built tower,
in the hope that men from above might defend him with thrown
missiles,
each time did Achilles, outstripping him, turn him back
toward the plain and he himself sped ever by the city.
As in a dream a man is not able to pursue one who eludes him,
nor is the other able to escape, nor he to pursue,
so Achilles for all the swiftness of his feet was not able to lay hold of
him, nor he escape.
How then could Hektor have eluded his fated death
had not Apollo for the last and final time joined closely with him,
to rouse his spirit and make swift his knees?
And shining Achilles was shaking his head at his men,
nor allowed them to let fly their sharp spears at Hektor,
lest whoever was making the throw claim glory, and himself come
second.
But when for the fourth time they came to the springs,
then Zeus the father leveled his golden scales
and placed in them two portions of death that brings enduring grief,
that of Achilles and that of Hektor breaker of horses;
he lifted them, holding by the middle, and the measured day of Hektor
sank,
headed to Hades, and Phoibos Apollo abandoned him.
Then the gray-eyed goddess Athene came up to the son of Peleus
and standing near addressed him in winged words:
“Now I hope, illustrious Achilles, beloved of Zeus,
to carry honor for us two back to the Achaean ships,
after breaking Hektor, insatiate though he may be for battle;
he can no longer get clear of us,
not if Apollo the far-shooter should suffer countless trials for his sake,
groveling before Father Zeus of the aegis.
But you now stop and catch your breath, while I
make my way to Hektor and convince him to fight man to man.”
Thus spoke Athene, and Achilles obeyed and rejoiced in his heart
and stood leaning on his bronze-flanged ash spear.
She left him and came up to shining Hektor
in the likeness of Deïphobos, in form and steady voice.
Standing close, she spoke winged words:
“My brother, swift Achilles presses you hard,
pursuing you around the city of Priam in the swiftness of his feet.
But come, let us stand firm and defend ourselves, holding fast.”
Then great Hektor of the shimmering helm addressed him in turn:
“Deïphobos, even before you were far dearest to me
of my brothers, those sons whom Hekabe and Priam bore.
Now I am minded to honor you even more in my heart—
you who dared for my sake, when you saw me with your eyes,
to quit the walls where the others remain inside.”
Then the gray-eyed goddess Athene spoke to him:
“My brother, our father and lady mother implored me greatly,
entreating in turn, and the companions about them,
to remain there—for so great is the dread of all;
yet my inner spirit was harrowed with impotent grief.
But now let us two press straight forward and go to battle,
and let there be no restraint of our spears, so that we shall see if
Achilles,
killing us both, will bear our bloodied arms
to his hollow ships, or if he will be broken by your spear.”
Thus spoke Athene, and with cunning led him on.
But when, as they advanced, they were close to one another,
great Hektor of the shimmering helm spoke first:
“No longer, son of Peleus, shall I flee from you, as before
I fled three times around the great city of Priam nor could then endure
to withstand your charge. But now my spirit stirs me
to hold firm before you. I will take you, or be taken.
But come, let us swear an oath upon our gods, for they
will be the best witnesses and protectors of agreements.
I will not, outrageous though you are, dishonor you if Zeus grants me
to be the survivor and to take of you your life.
But when I have stripped you of your splendid armor, Achilles,
I will give your body back to the Achaeans; and do you the same.”
Then, looking at him from beneath his brows, Achilles of the swift feet
spoke:
“Hektor, you who have done unforgettable deeds—not to me propose
your agreements.
As there are no pacts of faith between lions and men,
nor do wolves and lambs have spirit in kind,
but they plot evil unremittingly for one another,
so it is not possible that you and I be friends, nor for us two
will there be oaths; before that time one of us falling
will sate with his blood the shield-bearing warrior god.
Recollect your every skill. Now the need is very great
to be a spearman and brave warrior.
There will be no further escape for you, but soon Pallas Athene
will break you by my spear. Now you will pay in one sum
for all the sorrows of my companions, those whom you killed, raging
with your spear.”
He spoke, and, weighing his long-shadowed spear, he let it fly.
But, holding it in his sight as it came at him, shining Hektor avoided it,
for as he watched, he crouched and the bronze spear flew over
and stuck in the earth; but Pallas Athene snatched it up
and gave it back to Achilles, escaping the notice of Hektor, shepherd of
the people.
And Hektor addressed illustrious Achilles:
“You missed! In no way, then, godlike Achilles,
was it from Zeus you knew my fate—you only thought you did,
and you turn out to a glib talker, a manipulator of words
—fearing you, you thought I would forget my courage and defenses.
But you will not fix your spear in my back as I flee,
but drive it through my breast as I come at you,
if god grants this to you. Now you in turn dodge my spear,
bronze-pointed; would that you carried the whole of it in your flesh.
Then would this war be lighter to bear for the Trojans,
with you dead. For you are their greatest evil.”
He spoke, and weighing his long-shadowing spear, he let it fly
and hurled at the middle of the son of Peleus’ shield, nor did he miss;
but the spear glanced off the shield, for a long way. And Hektor was
angry
that his swift cast flew from his hand in vain,
and he stood dejected, nor did he have any other ash-shafted spear.
Raising his great voice, he called Deïphobos of the pale shield
and asked him for his long spear—but Deïphobos was not near him.
And Hektor understood within his heart and spoke aloud:
“This is it. The gods summon me deathward.
I thought the warrior Deïphobos was by me,
but he is inside the walls, and Athene has tricked me.
Hateful death is very near me; it is no longer far away,
nor is there escape. And for some long time this has been pleasing
to Zeus and to Zeus’ son who shoots from afar, who before this
protected me willingly enough. Yet now destiny has caught me.
Then let me not die without a struggle and ingloriously,
but while doing some great thing for even men to come to hear of.”
So speaking, he drew his sharp sword
that hung down by his side, huge and strong-made,
and, collecting himself, he swooped like a high-flying eagle,
an eagle that plunges through lowering clouds toward the plain
to snatch a soft lamb or a cowering hare;
so Hektor swooped brandishing his sharp sword.
But Achilles charged, his spirit filled with
savage passion. Before his breast he held his covering shield,
beautiful and intricately wrought, and nodded with his shining
four-horned helmet; splendid horsehair flowed about it,
of gold, which Hephaistos had set thickly around the helmet crest.
As a star moves among other stars in the milky murk of night,
Hesperus the Evening Star, which stands forth as the most beautiful in
heaven,
so the light shone from the well-pointed spearhead that Achilles
was shaking in his right hand, bent upon evil for Hektor,
surveying his handsome flesh, where it might best give way.
So far the brazen armor protected his flesh,
the beautiful armor that he stripped after slaying the life of
Patroklos—
but at that point where the collarbone holds the neck from the
shoulders, there showed
his gullet, where death of the soul comes swiftest;
and at this point shining Achilles drove with his spear as Hektor
strove against him,
and the spearhead went utterly through the soft neck.