  It was after sundown when the assembled Achaians dispersed. Each returned to his own ship or tent to partake of the evening meal and then lay down to rest, well content. Only Achilles could not sleep for thinking of his lost friend. In vain he tossed to and fro on his bed; sweet slumber came not nigh him. Thus he mourned half the night, then suddenly arose, ran out into the darkness, and wandered up and down the shore, his heart full of sorrow. At last he went to Patroclus’ grave, then hastened back to yoke his horses to the chariot, to which he bound Hector’s corpse once more and dragged him thrice round the grave mound. After this he drove the horses back to the enclosure and threw himself again upon his couch. Meanwhile the palace of old Priam had become a house of mourning. The afflicted father had taken no food nor drink since the death of his son, and the wailing of the wife and mother had so touched the people that they gathered about the house in crowds. Even the gods looked down pitifully on the unhappy family and Apollo appeared in dreams to Priam to strengthen his heart and encourage him to enter the Greek camp and plead for the body of his son. Jupiter commanded Hermes to accompany the old man, so that no enemy should hinder him or do him an injury by the way. Overjoyed at the divine vision, Priam forgot his complaints and went at once to the chamber where stood the chests in which he kept his treasures. He said to Hecuba, his mourning spouse: “I go to conciliate our terrible enemy with presents, and the god who has given me courage will protect me.” Then the queen burst out weeping, saying reproachfully: “Unhappy man! Hast thou lost thy senses? How canst thou go alone to the ships and meet the man who has slain so many of thy valiant sons! Truly thy heart is made of iron! Ah! if he set eyes upon thee and seize thee, that false and terrible man will have neither mercy nor respect nor reverence for thine age. Oh, do not go! Let us mourn at a distance our lost son, whom the fates at his birth decreed should be vanquished far from his people. Remain with us, dear one, that thou mayest preserve thine own life.” But the old man answered confidently: “I should not go if it were only a priest or seer who sent me, but I saw a god in my dream. He will not deceive me and my own heart impels me to go. Dost thou say the monster would kill me? Oh let him do so, if only he will strike me down upon the breast of my dear son!” He opened the chest and took out the rich garments which he intended to take with him for a ransom—twelve splendid festal robes, twelve warm covers, and as many tunics and magnificent cloaks. Then from another chest he took ten talents of gold, four polished basins, and two tripods. Even the exquisite goblet presented by the Thracians when he visited them as ambassador from his father he did not withhold. For he did not begrudge giving even his greatest treasure to soften the hard heart of Achilles and ransom his beloved son. When he had closed the box and turned around, he found himself surrounded by a crowd of idle people, who had come up to stare at the treasures which were to be offered for Hector’s ransom. Angrily he cried out: “Out with you! Away, ye idlers! Have ye not trouble enough at home, that ye come to look upon my sorrow? Only think what ye have lost in Hector! Without his support the Achaians will have an easier victory. Then it will be your turn to lament, but I shall doubtless then be dead!” He drove them out of the courtyard, then called for his sons, reproving them. “Where are ye? Not one is at hand when I need ye! My best sons are dead, only the good-for-nothings remain. Pack these gifts quickly in the hampers, and when it grows dark, harness the horses and summon my old, experienced IdÆus.” Abashed, the sons obeyed all these commands and Hecuba began to prepare a strengthening draught for the travellers. Carrying a golden goblet in her right hand, she came out to the chariot, and placing herself in front of the steeds, she said to her husband: “Here, beloved, take this and pour out a libation to Jupiter and petition him for a safe return, as thou goest against my wishes. For I should never let thee go if I could prevent it. And even now I would counsel thee to consult the god and learn whether it is his will to protect thee. Should this prayer remain unanswered then I would say, Remain. For woe to him who goes into danger without divine support!” The worthy man answered her: “I will obey thy behest. It is always well to lift up our hands to Jupiter.” He spake and called upon the stewardess for water, which she brought in a silver dish, sprinkling him with her right hand, while with the left she held a basin beneath. After this he received the wine cup from his spouse, poured out the first drops in honor of Jupiter, and prayed aloud with eyes raised to the sky: “Father Jupiter, almighty ruler, let me approach Achilles as a friend and find favor before him. Grant me a sign that thou wilt protect me, so that I may set out confident and comforted.” His wish was fulfilled, for soon afterward one of the eagles which nest high up in the clefts of Mount Ida flew past on his right hand. All who saw this rejoiced and the king and his companion mounted the chariot, full of confidence. His sons accompanied him to the city gates and, weeping, wished him luck. Now the swift messenger of the gods descended from Olympus to the shores of the Hellespont and wandered along the road which Priam was to take. He had assumed the form of a Greek youth of noble race, whose appearance inspired confidence. Priam had arrived at the grave of Ilus, where the Scamander flows gently along, and there he had stopped to water his horses. Old IdÆus saw the godlike youth coming along the river bank in the twilight and said fearfully to the king: “Look! son of Dardanus, there cometh a strange man. He will surely kill us both and make off with our goods. What shall we do? Shall we fly to the city or shall we get down and embrace his knees, begging for mercy?” Priam looked up and saw with dismay that the man was already close to the chariot. Sudden fear paralyzed his limbs, but when he saw the youth’s face close by and heard his friendly voice he was reassured. “Greeting to thee, old man.” Thus the youth addressed him. “Whither goest thou so late when all other mortals are asleep? Dost thou not fear the Achaians, who are not far away? And neither thou, nor the old man thy companion, are fit to defend yourselves. But I will not harm thee, for thou art so like my dear father, noble king, that I am drawn to thee.” “Fortune favors me,” cried the old man. “Now I see that Jupiter is with me, as he hath sent me such a noble guide through the dark night, of such remarkable stature and strength and of such wisdom. Truly thou hast fortunate parents.” “Tell me, old man,” continued the stranger, “where art thou taking these goods? Art trying to carry thy greatest treasures to a place of safety before the destruction of Troy, or art thou flying secretly from the city for fear of the victorious enemy? For indeed thou hast lost thy chief treasure. As long as noble Hector lived, ye could battle on equal terms with the Achaians.” This warmed the old father’s heart. “Who art thou,” he asked, “who speakest so kindly of my poor son?” “Who does not so?” answered the stranger. “How often I have seen him in the stress of battle driving the Argives in droves before him. We often stood and admired him from a distance when Achilles forbade us to join in the battle; for I am one of his companions and came hither in the same ship with him. My father is a noble Myrmidon called Polyctor. He has property and money, but is an old man like thyself. I am the youngest of seven brothers. When Achilles went to war we cast lots to see which should go with him, and the lot fell to me. I have been wandering about, thinking of the fate of Troy, for to-morrow the Achaians intend to assault the city. They are weary of the long truce and are anxious to end the war.” “If thou art one of Achilles’ companions,” said Priam, “thou canst doubtless tell me whether my son’s body is still lying at the ships or whether the cruel man has already thrown it to the dogs.” The stranger replied: “Not yet have dogs or birds of prey touched it, although it has lain there for twelve days and Achilles drags it round the grave of his friend every morning. Neither has decomposition touched it, and the beautiful limbs are still preserved in remarkable freshness. Seeing him, one would suppose he had but just died. Thus the gods watch over him even in death, for they always loved him.” How happy the old man was at this news. “Oh child,” he cried, “how good it is for a man to pay honor to the gods with due offerings. My son never forgot that. He never failed to make sacrifice before he partook of food himself, and now in death he is receiving his reward. Oh what a happy father I am! Here, friend, take this handsome cup in remembrance of Priam. It was intended for Achilles, for I am going to him to ransom my Hector. But I have enough other gifts for him. Take it and guide me to his tent. Thou knowest the way.” “Wilt thou tempt me, old man?” answered the stranger. “I will not yield to it. I cannot take a gift from thee without Achilles’ knowledge and rob him of it. No, I am too much in awe of him. Some harm might befall me. But I will accompany thee, notwithstanding, and no plunderer shall come nigh thee unpunished.” With these words he swung himself on to the chariot and placed himself between the two old men, taking the whip and reins from the herald. The horses trotted along boldly and confidently through the fields and soon brought the travellers to the walls of the camp. From a distance they saw the servants busied with the remains of the evening meal, but the god waved his staff and they all sank into a deep slumber. Then he unbarred the gates, drove inside and in the direction of the enclosure in which the tents and ships of the Myrmidons stood. There he took leave of Priam and disappeared; but before he went he pointed out Achilles’ tent and encouraged the trembling old man. “Go boldly in,” said he, “and embrace his knees. The sight of thee will certainly move him, for his soul is filled with melancholy. Adjure him by his father and by his divine mother, whom he loves tenderly. Thou wilt certainly touch his heart if thou speak of her.” Much comforted the king got down, leaving the chariots and the presents outside in the care of his old companion. His heart beat faster as he crossed the threshold of the tent, but after a moment of indecision he entered. He found Achilles still sitting at the table where he had supped. Beside him stood his two favorite companions, the excellent driver Automedon and the skilful spearsman Alkimos. The great hero was leaning on his elbows, sunk deep in moody thought, and was not aware of the entrance of the old man until he had fallen at his feet, clasped his knees, and kissed his hands—those horrible hands which had murdered so many of his sons. Achilles was amazed, for he had been taken completely by surprise. For a moment they gazed into each other’s faces, Achilles puzzled and agitated, Priam imploring and anxious. At length a flood of tears relieved the oppressed heart of the venerable man and in a trembling voice he uttered these beseeching words: “Remember thy father, godlike Achilles, who languishes at home, old and helpless like myself. Ah, perhaps his neighbors are even now oppressing him and there is none to protect him. But he knows that he has a good and faithful son, even though far away, who will make an end of all his troubles when he returns. The old man is full of hope and every day he cherishes sweet thoughts of thee. But woe is me! I was the happiest of fathers. I had raised fifty sons, nineteen of them born of one mother. They were my pride and joy. Then ye came to invest my city and the unhappy war took one of them after the other until but few were left. But among them all, the best one still remained—he who had protected me and all of us thus far; but now he also is no more. Alas, I can no longer beg for his life, but we long to see the dead once more and pay him the honors due my son. At home sisters, wife, and mother mourn for him, and see, here lies his unhappy father at thy feet. Give him back to me. I have brought thee rich gifts. Fear the gods! Bethink thee and imagine thy old father kneeling thus to a younger man. But I suffer as no mortal ere has done before me and press my lips to the hand which slew my children.” The heart of the invincible hero could not withstand these words and tears. He was deeply moved. The picture of his own gray-haired father rose before him and a sad longing for his embrace filled his heart. He wept aloud and bent gently down to raise the old man up, but Priam still clasped his knees tightly. Thus they both sobbed, each conscious of his own fate through the sorrow of the other. At last, when they had wept for some time, Achilles spoke. “In truth, unhappy man, thou hast been much afflicted. And yet thou hast dared to come alone and by night to the Achaian ships and to the man who has slain thy bravest sons. Thy heart is certainly strong and courageous. But come, forget thy sorrow and let me see no more of thy tears. Arise and sit here and let us calm ourselves. The gods have decreed that miserable mankind should live in sorrow, while they know naught of trouble. For many they have mixed the sad lots with the happy ones, but some receive only ill fortune, so that his whole life is a miserable failure and he is favored neither by gods nor men. Alas! neither is my father fortunate. Although the gods have bestowed worldly goods and power upon him, and although a goddess became his spouse, it is ordained that there shall be no heir to his kingdom; for alas! he shall never look upon me again, though his heart longs for me. I am not fated to return home a peaceful ruler, to enjoy a happy old age. Thus has fate robbed thee, also, of thy good son. But he is dead; therefore lament no more. Thou canst not bring him back to life. Who can do aught against the all-powerful gods?” “Bid me not sit,” sobbed the old man. “I will lie here until thou hast given me back my only beloved son, that my tears may fall upon him. But take the gifts and enjoy them in peace when thou returnest to thy native land, because thou sendest me away filled with gratitude and love.” At these words Achilles frowned and said: “Do not agitate me further, old man! Arise, for I have already determined to give thee back thy son. Do not insult me with fears and mistrust!” Silently the old man obeyed this earnest behest and rising seated himself. Meanwhile the hero, mighty as a lion, arose and went out, followed by his two friends. Before the tent they unyoked the horses and conducted the herald inside. They then took the valuable gifts out of the hamper, except two soft garments, in which they were to wrap the body of Hector. Then, unseen by the father, Achilles caused two female slaves to wash the body and to cleanse, arrange, and anoint the hair. Next the servants wrapped the body in the fine robes and Achilles himself lifted it onto the chariot and laid it on a bier prepared for it. Then he stood still a moment and said: “Do not be angry with me, Patroclus, if thou shouldst learn, perchance, in Hades’ dwelling, that I have returned Hector’s body to his unhappy father. Look, he brings me a not unworthy ransom and a share of it shall be consecrated to thee.” He reËntered the tent and seated himself opposite his two guests. “Now thou canst rest content, old man,” he said. “Thy son is ransomed and lies on thy chariot wrapped in fine garments. Now let us partake of food and comfort our hearts. Even Niobe did not forget to eat, although her heart was torn by bitter sorrow when Artemis had slain her six blooming daughters in one day and Apollo her six splendid sons. So let us feast. Thou canst mourn for thy son at home, for he is doubtless worthy of thy tears.” With these words Achilles got up quickly, fetched a sheep and killed it. His companions cut up the meat and roasted it carefully on spits. Then they sat down at table, Automedon passed bread in a basket, but Achilles himself served the meat, and they all ate and drank their fill. The old man admired and wondered at the splendid proportions of the great hero, his godlike mien, and his bold and fiery glance. But Achilles too was amazed at heart when he noted the awe-inspiring, majestic demeanor and the dignified countenance of the king and heard his words of wisdom. When they had finished eating, Priam said: “Now, godlike host, take me to a place, I beg thee, where we may refresh ourselves with slumber; for I have not closed my eyes since my son sank down among the dead, and this is the first food and drink that have passed my lips.” Achilles commanded his comrades to prepare a couch for Priam and his companion in the porch. The maids brought soft cushions and warm blankets, arranged them all, and lighted the strangers out with their torches. Achilles accompanied the king to the door and pressed his hand at parting. A few hours’ sleep sufficed for the old man. Then he arose to awaken Achilles, for he was anxious to start before daybreak. “Restless old man,” said Achilles kindly, “depart then. But first tell me something. How soon dost thou intend to bury thy son? For until then I will keep the peace and restrain my people from battle.” “O Achilles,” answered the old man, much moved, “if thou wilt grant us this favor, give us nine days to mourn the dead and prepare for his burial. On the tenth day we will burn him, on the eleventh erect the grave mound, and on the twelfth, if it must be, we will resume the war.” “Let this, too, be as thou desirest,” replied Achilles. “I will hold the army in check for as long as thou hast demanded.” He clasped the old man’s wrist to assure him of good faith, then accompanied the chariot as far as the gate in the wall, taking care that none of the Achaians should harm the old man. Priam drove once more through the well-known fields, past the ford of the flowing Scamander, where yesterday the friendly youth had appeared. And now, just as he was watering his horses there, the sun rose. Cassandra, Priam’s favorite daughter, who had been standing on the watch tower since dawn awaiting the return of her father with beating heart, recognized the travellers. She waited until she could discern all plainly, even the covered body of her brother on the chariot. Then she ran down the stairs to the palace, calling her mother and sisters loudly. “Only look, they are coming! Hasten, Trojans, to look upon the body of Hector, if ye have ever rejoiced over him alive as he returned from the battlefield. For he was the pride of the city and of all the people!” All who heard her voice hurried forth, men and women, all hearts filled with boundless sorrow. But first of all came the old mother and Andromache. They went out to meet the chariot and stopped it at the city gate with loud cries. Mother and wife threw themselves on the body and wet it with their tears, tore their hair, touched his head, and lifted up the cloths to look upon his wounds. The crowd gathered, weeping, about them. But the king cried: “Stand back and let the horses pass! Ye may weep your fill when I have carried him into the house.” They all stood aside and the king entered the city, the crowd following him to the palace. When the corpse was lifted from the chariot the universal lament began afresh. Singers were brought to chant the hymn of mourning and round about the women sobbed, especially Andromache, the beautiful princess. She held the dead man’s head in her hands and moaned: “Beloved, thou hast lost thy life, but the widow, alas, is left behind and thy young son. How shall he grow to manhood? For before that Troy will fall, as thou art dead, who didst defend the walls, the women, and lisping children. Soon they will be carried away to bondage, myself among them. And thou, my dear son, wilt go hence to endure ignominy with thy mother, if indeed some cruel Achaian entering the conquered city does not seize thee by thy tender neck and hurl thee down from the tiles into the streets below. Thy valiant father hath slain many Achaians; therefore the people mourn. O Hector, what unspeakable sorrow thou hast caused thy parents, but I am unhappy above all others! Dying, thou couldst not give me thy hand nor speak words of wisdom which I might have cherished.” Thus she spake, weeping, fathomless sorrow in her heart. The old mother also could not be torn from her beloved son. First she caressed his head, then the cold hands, as though she hoped to call him back to life. Helen too lamented over the dead. “Hector dearest,” she cried, “thou didst love me more than any of my husband’s brothers. What insults I have suffered since the hero brought me to Troy! Thou alone hadst never an unkind word for me. Yea often, when thy mother or one of my sisters-in-law or even their husbands heaped abuse upon me, thou didst mollify the angry ones and make peace. How thy friendly encouragement comforted me! Ah, I shall never hear that dear voice again, and I have no longer a friend in this house, where all turn from me with loathing.” Thus she lamented, and all the women mourned with her. But the venerable Priam now raised his commanding voice and spake. “Ye Trojans, fetch wood into the city and go without fear that the DanÆans are lying in wait for you. For Peleus’ son promised with a sacred vow not to raise his hand against us until the twelfth day.” Quickly they yoked oxen and horses to the carts, and on the tenth day, when golden Eos arose, the people all assembled for the funeral obsequies of Hector. With loud lamentations they carried out the corpse and laid it on the high scaffolding, which they set on fire. When the pyre had burnt itself out, they quenched the gleaming embers with red wine. His brothers and the comrades of the hero gathered together the white bones out of the ashes and deposited them in a golden urn, which was placed in the grave and gigantic blocks of stone heaped upon it. The grave mound was raised above it and sentinels were stationed about the place so that the Greeks should not surprise and attack them. After this all the people returned into the city and the solemn funeral feast was held in Priam’s palace. Thus the Trojans paid honor to the body of great Hector. LIFE STORIES FOR YOUNG PEOPLE Translated from the German by 44 Volumes Now Ready American Explorers
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