  Morning had scarcely dawned when Agamemnon called all to arms, appearing in the foremost ranks clad in his most splendid armor and determined to fight more heroically this day than ever before. The great mass of foot-soldiers pressed forward in long lines shouting their battle cries, the war chariots containing the leaders following after them. At last the two armies met and whole ranks of men fell like grain before the reaper’s scythe. For some hours each side held its own, but toward noon the Achaians broke through the enemy’s lines and forced them back. As soon as the ranks were broken and bodies of men began to scatter in little groups over the plain, the charioteers had room for action and dashed forward to terrorize the foot-soldiers. Agamemnon was among the foremost, hurling his deadly lance continually at the Trojan princes. Two young and beautiful sons of Priam, both in one chariot, fell before him, and he took their accoutrements and horses. Next two sons of Antimachus came his way and received no quarter at his hands. He stood with bloody arm uplifted, swinging his lance, ready to strike down any who approached him. The Trojans fled in multitudes at the sound of his lionlike voice, and amid the wild confusion one could see frightened horses, with empty chariots trailing behind them, galloping back toward the city. Agamemnon and the other chieftains were relentlessly pursuing the flying Trojans, and as a lion following a herd of cattle will fasten his cruel claws into the necks of those which fall behind, thus the Achaians struck down many a fleeing warrior. It was now Hector’s care to stop the rout and bring order into the ranks once more at the city gates. He implored, he admonished, he scolded and threatened, and thus drove them back again after a brief rest. Shamed by his words, the young princes sought out the most dangerous antagonists to show their valor. Iphidamas, son of Antenor, was even anxious to contend with Agamemnon himself, who, however, saw him coming and was the first to cast his lance. But the youth dodged the missile and ran quickly at him with his own spear and would surely have run him through had the brazen coat not bent the point of the weapon and broken the force of the blow. Agamemnon seized hold of the youth’s lance with his powerful left hand and forced both him and it down, while, with a sudden blow of his sword, he cut off the youth’s head. A servant soon stripped him and carried off the armor. Koon, Antenor’s second son, who had seen his brother’s fall, called some of his companions together to avenge him. They approached Agamemnon unobserved and Koon cast his spear, which struck the hero’s arm, wounding him so that the warm blood spurted forth. The youth was triumphant, for although Agamemnon did not fall, he saw him stagger backward. He wished to make use of this moment to carry off his brother’s body, but as he was bending over it, Agamemnon’s spear entered his side, and before he could recover himself Agamemnon had sprung upon him and cut off his head. The hero then turned away and attacked another body of the enemy, slaying many. As long as the warm blood continued to gush out he did not notice his wound, but when it began to dry, he could no longer endure the pain and was obliged to retire from the field. He mounted his chariot, admonishing the Achaians once more to fight bravely, and then drove rapidly away to his tent to have his wound dressed. His departure revived the sinking courage of the Trojans. Hector pressed forward and the Achaians, abandoned by their courageous leader, turned to flee, as the Trojans had done before. The young princes sought to measure their strength against Hector, but only paid for their temerity with their lives. Seeing this, Ulysses’ heart burned with rage. He called Diomedes and said: “Son of Tydeus, let us fight together against that terrible man. It would be a shame should plumed Hector take our great ships from us.” “Gladly will I tarry here,” answered his friend surlily; “but much good will it do us, for Jove, the Thunderer, does not intend the victory for us, but for the Trojans.” However, they set forth together and plunged amongst the swarms of soldiers like two raging lions, driving them backward, as waves are whipped by the wind. Hector saw this from afar and quick as a flash he bore down upon them in his chariot, sprang to earth, and met the heroes on foot. “Look,” cried Diomedes to Ulysses when he saw him; “there cometh our destruction. But let us stand firm, we will not flee.” They stood awaiting him with their lances in position, and at the moment when Hector emerged from the crowd Diomedes’ spear struck his helmet with such force that he was thrown stunned to the ground. But the weapon had not wounded him, for his iron helmet was not broken, and before Diomedes had time to rush upon him with his sword, Hector had jumped up and plunged back into the crowd. Ulysses’ lance had missed the mark, and before the two had recovered their weapons Hector was safely on his chariot. Diomedes stamped his foot with rage. He now set upon the enemy more murderously than ever, and as he drove them back and was nearing the tomb of the old Trojan King Ilus, he was met by Paris, who stayed his mad impetuosity. Hiding behind a pillar of the tomb, he let fly one of his never-failing arrows, which struck Diomedes, pinning his foot to the ground. He saw the hero falter and stand still and sprang from his hiding place crying in triumph: “Ha! it was a good shot. But how gladly would I have pierced a vital part and taken thy life!” “Miserable coward!” roared Diomedes. “Hadst thou met me in the open thy bow and arrow had helped thee little. And now thou boastest as though thou hadst conquered me, and it is but a scratch. It is as though a mosquito had stung me. Woe unto thee when I catch thee!” However, the wound was troublesome enough, for he could not stand on his foot, and Paris would perhaps have ventured to shoot a second arrow, if Ulysses had not come up in the nick of time. He placed himself in front of his friend and covered him with his shield, while Diomedes sat on the ground and drew the arrow out of his foot, which caused him sharp pain. He then called for his charioteer and drove back to the ships, his heart full of bitterness. Ulysses remained behind alone, for his companions had retreated in terror, and now he found himself suddenly surrounded by the Trojans. He could not escape and resolved to sell his life dearly with the blood of his enemies. He met their attack like a wild boar at bay, and so savage was his onslaught that the enemy, surprised, stood still and none dared come near him. But when he had stabbed Charops, the noble son of Hippasus, his brother Socus, full of grief and anger, stepped boldly forward to avenge him, crying: “Murderous Ulysses, either thou shalt boast that thou hast slain both of Hippasus’ sons or thou shalt die by my hand!” With this he threw himself upon Ulysses with his spear and did actually pierce the shield and coat of mail, tearing the flesh and causing him to start back. But when Ulysses felt that the wound was not mortal, he quickly hurled his own lance, crying: “Miserable man, thou too art destined to fall this day by my hand!” Socus shrieked aloud, for the weapon had pierced clean through his breast. On the other side of the battlefield the fighting was equally fierce. Hector and Paris were busy with spear and bow. Paris wounded the venerable Machaon, a good soldier and much prized for his surgical skill, for he had saved many lives. Therefore his friends were anxious about him and Nestor lifted him into his chariot and drove quickly away with him to camp. There they dismounted to refresh themselves in the cool breeze from the sea and to dry their damp clothing. Then they entered Nestor’s tent, where he bound up his friend’s wound and gave him food. While they were eating Patroclus entered the tent. Achilles had sent him to inquire who the wounded man was whom he had seen brought in by Nestor’s chariot. For Achilles was accustomed, when the Greeks were fighting, to station himself on the high deck of his vessel to watch the fray, not without regrets that he was condemned to idleness; often his hand would grasp his sword involuntarily. His joy over the overthrow of the Achaians was the sweetest revenge he had for his wounded pride. “Ah, here is Patroclus,” cried Nestor. “Enter, friend, and sit down with us. I have not seen thee for a long time.” “Do not press me, venerable sir,” answered Patroclus. “I may not remain, for I must take the tidings to Achilles for which he has sent me, and now that I have seen Machaon I must away. Thou well knowest how impatient he is.” But Nestor continued: “We thought that Achilles was no longer interested in our fate. And hast thou, his friend and companion, no influence with him? Canst thou not win him with persuasive words and tame his proud heart? That was what thy good father expected.” Patroclus was moved by his words, and promising to do what he could, took his leave. Once more the Achaians were obliged to take refuge behind the walls of the camp. Hector, followed by the victorious Trojans, drove all before him. When the greater part of the Achaians had reached the shelter of the gate, Hector gave orders that all the charioteers should leave their chariots and lead their bands on foot across the moat, for he was determined to climb or tear down the flimsy walls. Hector was successful, although there was a fearful struggle at the wall. The Achaians defended their last stand with desperate courage, while the Trojans were just as determined to accomplish their purpose of driving the enemy from their coasts and burning their ships that day. Thus far Jupiter seemed to aid the Trojans, for a terrible gale arose which blinded the eyes of the Achaians with dust, though they still fought manfully on and Hector was not able to accomplish his purpose. Two Lycian youths, Sarpedon and Glaucus, met outside the wall, resolved to shed glory upon their people by their bravery and enterprise. They sought to break down the wall at a spot defended by Menestheus, and their first onslaught was so savage that the Greek looked about him for help. He sent a messenger to Ajax and Teucer to come quickly to his aid, and they came running up with spear and bow. Ajax threw a stone which killed Sarpedon’s attendant, who was already on top of the wall. Next Glaucus climbed up, but received Teucer’s arrow in his arm, which incapacitated him for further fighting. He got down very quietly, so that the Achaians should not observe his misfortune, pausing to cast one more spear, which did its deadly work. Then he drove back to the city. At last Sarpedon succeeded in making the first breach in the top of the breastworks, and under repeated blows the rest followed. This made the wall so low at this place that the soldiers could shoot over it, and here the hottest fighting now took place. It was impossible to move Sarpedon from his position. After a long struggle Hector came up, saw the breach, and cried joyfully: “Forward, ye Trojan horsemen, break through the Argives’ wall and cast burning brands into the ships!” He raised a mighty stone in both arms, and although it was so heavy that two of the strongest men could not have lifted it or even have loaded it on a wagon with crowbars, Hector bore it as easily as a shepherd might carry a bundle of shorn wool, and with feet planted firmly wide apart, he hurled it with such force against the gateway that the bolts cracked, the hinges gave way, and the gate flew wide open. He sprang triumphantly into the intrenchments, followed by the shouting Trojans. The frightened Achaians hurried away to defend their ships. The cries and confusion were indescribable. The Achaians were in despair. Nothing remained for them but to save their ships, and placing themselves in front of them in long rows with lances set, they thus awaited the final onset of the Trojans. Each now forgot his own distress and all worked together, and soon a solid chain of armed men surrounded the ships like a wall. Hector himself, like a mighty rock which falls from the mountain top and plunges from ledge to ledge until it rests upon the plain, could get no farther, but was obliged to pause before the wall of lances. He tried to encourage his men by promising them great rewards. Now they believed that the last decisive moment had come and that before night it would be seen whether the gods had determined on the destruction of the Achaians or of Troy. But Jupiter was but favoring the Trojans in order to please Achilles and his mother, Thetis. Fate had already decreed that Troy was to fall, and even the gods could not change this decision, for they too were subject to the laws of iron necessity. As soon as Agamemnon had been sufficiently punished and Achilles could be persuaded to join the ranks of fighting Achaians, the destruction of the mighty city was to be expected. As soon as the Achaians had intrenched themselves they grew bolder and began a fearless attack. Idomeneus charged the Trojans, followed by his brave Cretans. As the hurricane raises dark clouds of dust between the battle lines, thus the ironclad cohorts moved hurriedly forward and threw themselves on a party of the enemy. Idomeneus himself sought an antagonist among the princes, and now he chanced upon Othryoneus, who had just joined the Trojans with his squadron and had a reputation for great bravery. He had wooed Priam’s most beautiful daughter, not with the customary gifts, but instead had promised his aid in driving the Achaians out of Asia. Priam had given his word, and the young hero was just beginning the struggle for the lovely prize when Idomeneus’ spear put a sudden end to his life. The battle raged fiercest on the right side of the camp where Hector was fighting. He was determined, in spite of the heroes who opposed him, to capture and burn the ships. All the fury of war was displayed on this spot—rage, despair, revenge, wild cries, fear, horror, and flight. The ground was slippery with the blood of the fallen; there was now no time to remove the corpses of the slain. The Trojans were the first to lose courage. Even Hector dared not keep his post where Ajax, Ulysses, and Idomeneus stood together like a wall, but sought out weaker adversaries and contented himself by answering the challenge of the two Ajaxes with insults and boasts. “Why dost thou seek to frighten the common soldiers?” called the elder Ajax to him. “Drive us back if thou canst! Thou wouldst gladly take our ships, wouldst thou not? But I tell thee that thy proud Troy shall sooner sink into ashes than our fleet, and thou shalt sooner turn thy face homeward in flight than triumph over us.” At this moment an eagle flew high over the heads of the Achaians toward the right and, delighted with the omen, they had confidence in Ajax’s words. But Hector answered him defiantly: “Miserable boaster, what foolishness is this! Would I were but as certainly a son of Jupiter as that to-day will bring destruction upon ye all. And woe to thee shouldst thou stand before my spear! It would tear thy delicate body and give thy blood to the dogs.” He then dashed away with his band to enter the battle at another point. All were intimidated where he appeared, and the battle cries of the Trojans surrounding him rose high into the air. |
|
