  Jupiter awoke and rubbed his eyes. His first glance sought the ships. How changed was the situation! “Ha, Juno,” he cried angrily, “this is thy work, deceitful, malicious woman! So that was the meaning of thy caresses, thy friendliness and sweet talk, false serpent. Of what use is it to chastise thee? Hast thou already forgotten thy punishment when thou didst send a storm to drive my son Hercules into imprisonment on Kos and I made thee swing on a chain twixt heaven and earth with an anvil fastened to each foot? Suppose that now I were to—” “Heaven and Earth are my witnesses, and I will even swear it by the Styx, that Poseidon did not go into the battle at my behest,” said the affrighted goddess. “I do not know whether the Achaians have persuaded him to it or his own heart. Rather would I counsel him to go whithersoever thou commandest.” The father of gods and men answered, smiling grimly: “If thou wert of my mind, regal Juno, Poseidon would certainly soon change his course. But now call Iris quickly and Apollo of the bow, that they may descend and command Poseidon to leave the battlefield and return to his palace.” The lily-armed Juno willingly obeyed, though she still meditated mischief in her heart. She drove quickly to high Olympus, where she found the immortals in the banquet hall. Craftily she spoke to them. “It is useless to seek to change Jupiter’s decrees,” she said. “Little he cares for us, for he feels himself high above us all in strength and power. Only just now I saw Ascalaphus, the beloved son of mighty Mars, slain in battle.” “Do not blame me, ye dwellers in Olympus, if I go to avenge the death of my son,” wailed Mars; “even though the bolt of the Thunderer strike me down.” He rushed from the hall and donned his shining armor, appearing greater and more terrible than ever. Incalculable mischief would have followed if Athena, concerned for the rest of the gods, had not hurried after him and taken his helmet, shield, and lance from him by force. “Imbecile,” she cried, “wouldst thou destroy us all? Woe unto us if he should see thee, the terrible Jupiter! Thy son was but a mortal and other noble warriors have fallen; it is impossible to save them all from death.” With these words she forced her angry brother back to the throne and he obediently submitted to her warning. Apollo and Iris flew quickly down to the green summit of Ida, where Jupiter sat enveloped in dark clouds. Iris he sent with a stern message to Poseidon and his beloved son Apollo to Hector to strengthen him with his divine breath. “Then lead him into the battle once more,” said Jupiter, “and aid him thyself to drive the Achaians on board their ships. Take the terrible Ægis in thy hand and shake it, that their hearts may quake.” Iris delivered her message to the sea god and he answered it defiantly. “Powerful as he is, I call that tyrannical. To combat my will—mine, who am his equal! For are not he and Pluto and I brothers, and were not the upper and under worlds divided equally between us? We cast lots; air fell to him and water to me, but earth and sky are free to us all, and he shall not stop me here. Let him rule his consort and his sons and daughters. What care I for his threats or commands!” Then Iris said doubtfully: “What, dark-haired World-power! Shall I take Jupiter thy answer in just those words, or wilt thou not change thy mind? It is well to keep the peace and respect is always due the elder.” “Iris, exquisite goddess,” answered the angry king, “thou speakest sensibly and with reason, but it was righteous anger overcame me, for no brother should rule another. Now that I come to think it over, I know I had best obey him. But tell him this—that if, contrary to the wishes of all the other gods, he protects Ilium’s fortress and gives not the victory to the Achaians, he may expect our eternal enmity.” He spoke, left the battlefield, and plunged into the sea. Meanwhile Apollo had appeared to Hector, saying: “Be comforted, son of Priam, for Jupiter sends me to save thee. I am Phoebus Apollo, who hath so often protected thee and thine. Follow me, that we may scatter the Achaians.” Thus the god encouraged the shepherd of the people, and like a colt which has broken its halter and gallops after the other horses to the pasture, he hastened into the battle turmoil. The reappearance of the hero caused astonishment and consternation among the enemy, and as the invisible Apollo shook the shield of Jupiter, the mighty Ægis, fear and horror took complete possession of the people, and turning they fled back to the ships. The battle raged fiercer than before, and many brave men fell there. Then Hector called aloud: “The time has come, brave Trojans, to board the ships. Let all keep together. Let no one tarry to gather booty, and if one remains behind, he shall die by my own hand.” He urged his horses across the moat, and the others followed him with exultant cries. When they reached the ships they paused and prayed aloud to the gods for victory. A long roll of thunder presaged good fortune, and with redoubled courage they charged forward. Hector tried to board a vessel, but in vain. The Achaians, from the deck, thrust back everyone who made the attempt with their long oars, and where Hector fought there were always to be found gathered together the bravest warriors. The Trojans, with their double-edged lances, fought in their chariots, but the Achaians, from the high decks of their dark vessels, used long, ironbound oars. While the battle raged between the wall and the ships Patroclus was sitting in Eurypylus’ tent nursing his wounded friend. But he dared not remain long, for fear of arousing Achilles’ anger. He felt that he must see how his friends were faring, and his heart urged him to persuade Achilles to come to the rescue of the Achaians at last. He left the tent and gazed with horror upon the dreadful battleground. He saw Hector rush forward with a flaming torch and try to fire a ship, but the Achaians turned aside the fatal missile. Ajax of Salamis stood upon the deck and thrust down with his lance all who bore a burning brand. Hector aimed his javelin at him, but it struck Lykophron, who stood beside him. Ajax then called upon Teucer: “Look, brother, our friend has fallen by Hector’s hand! Where is thy avenging arrow?” Teucer hastily climbed up with his bow and with the first arrow struck Klitus from his chariot. He then selected a second and sharper arrow for Hector and, as he was quite near to him, would doubtless have pierced him had the cord of his bow not broken just as he was in the act of drawing it. “Woe is me!” he cried. “A god brings all our attempts to naught and must have broken this cord, a newly twisted one, which I put on this morning.” Hector had seen the accident, accepted it as a favorable omen, and cheered on his men. “Let everyone fight with all his might, for the Olympian Jove is with us. And if ye fall it shall be a glorious death for the women and children of Troy, and surely the Trojans shall recompense ye as soon as the Achaians are driven away.” Where Hector rushed in, the troops huddled together like a herd of sheep before a wolf. None dared defend himself, but bowed his head in terror, and trembling, received his deathblow with averted face. The hero’s fluttering plumes were like a lion’s mane and his eyes flashed fury under his dark brows. Fear and shame kept the Achaians together. They continually encouraged one another. Nestor particularly besought the people to make one last attempt. Among the Achaian leaders the most notable courage was shown by the Telamonian Ajax. He ran from one ship to another to encourage the soldiers, who could scarcely be forced to make another stand. A Trojan brought Hector a torch, which he threw into the foremost of the deserted ships. The sight drove the Achaians to desperation. They all rushed forward to defend the ship and a horrible struggle took place. Battle axes, swords, and lances hissed through the air and much blood flowed. Hector clung to the ship and shouted: “Bring up the firebrands! Jupiter has given us the day and we shall certainly take the ships.” And “fire! fire!” echoed through the entire army, so that all the Achaians trembled. Ajax himself could make no headway, but standing on one of the ships, he threw lance after lance at everyone he saw approaching with fire. His voice was never silent, but rose continually above the din, calling to his people: “Friends, keep up your courage and show yourselves men! Is there any help but in yourselves or is there another wall behind you? Do ye know of other ships, if these are burned, to carry you over the sea? Your deliverance depends solely upon yourselves!” Fruitless zeal! The rattling spears of the enemy drove them to flight more convincingly than the voice of the lone leader to the attack. Their strength was broken. |
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