Book VII

The Combat of Hector and Ajax

Prowess of Hector⁠—Meeting of Minerva and Apollo near the Scaean Gates⁠—They incite Hector to challenge the Greeks to a single combat⁠—Ajax selected by lot to meet Hector⁠—The combat ended by the night⁠—Proposal of Antenor to deliver Helen to the Greeks⁠—Refusal of Paris, who offers to restore her wealth⁠—Rejection of this offer by Agamemnon⁠—A truce for burying the dead⁠—The Greek camp fortified.

The illustrious Hector spake, and rapidly

Passed through the gate, and with him issued forth

His brother Alexander⁠—eager, both,

For war and combat. As when God bestows,

To glad the long-expecting mariners,

A favorable wind while wearily

They beat the ocean with their polished oars,

Their arms all nerveless with their length of toil,

Such to the expecting Trojans was the sight

Of the two chiefs. First Alexander slew

Menesthius, who in Arnè had his home,

A son of Areïthoüs the king.

Large-eyed Philomedusa brought him forth

To the mace-bearer Areïthoüs.

And Hector smote Eïoneus, the spear

Piercing his neck beneath the brazen casque,

And straightway he dropped lifeless. Glaucus then

Son of Hippolochus, and chief among

The Lycians⁠—in that fiery onset slew

Iphinous, son of Dexius, with his spear.

It pierced the warrior’s shoulder as he sprang

To mount his rapid car, and from the place

He fell to earth, his limbs relaxed in death

Now when Minerva of the azure eyes

Beheld them in the furious combat thus

Wasting the Grecian host, she left the peaks

Of high Olympus, and came down in haste

To sacred Ilium. Straight Apollo flew

To meet her, for he marked from Pergamus

Her coming, and he greatly longed to give

The victory to the Trojans. As they met

Beside the beechen tree, the son of Jove,

The king Apollo, spake to Pallas thus:⁠—

“Why hast thou, daughter of imperial Jove,

Thus left Olympus in thine eager haste?

Seek’st thou to turn in favor of the Greeks

War’s wavering chances?⁠—for I know too well

Thou hast no pity when the men of Troy

Are perishing. But, if thou wilt give ear

To me, I shall propose a better way.

Cause we the conflict for this day to cease,

And be it afterward renewed until

An end be made of Troy, since it hath pleased

You, goddesses, to lay the city waste.”

And blue-eyed Pallas answered: “Be it so,

O mighty Archer. With a like intent

I left Olympus for this battle-field

Of Greeks and Trojans. But by what device

Think’st thou to bring the combat to a pause?”

Then spake the king Apollo, son of Jove,

In turn to Pallas: “Let us seek to rouse

The fiery spirit of the Trojan knight

Hector, that he may challenge in the field

Some Greek to meet him, singly and alone,

In mortal combat. Then the well-armed Greeks,

Stung by the bold defiance, will send forth

A champion against Priam’s noble son.”

He spake. The blue-eyed goddess gave assent

And straightway Helenus, beloved son

Of Priam, in his secret mind perceived

The purpose of the gods consulting thus,

And came and stood by Hector’s side and said:⁠—

“O Hector, son of Priam, and like Jove

In council, wilt thou hearken to my words

Who am thy brother? Cause the Trojans all

And all the Greeks to sit, while thou shall stand

Proclaiming challenge to the bravest man

Among the Achaians to contend with thee

In mortal combat. It is not thy fate

To fall and perish yet, for thus have said

The ever-living gods, whose voice I heard.”

He spake; and Hector, hearing him, rejoiced,

And went between the hosts. He bore his spear,

Holding it in the middle, and pressed back

The ranks of Trojans, and they all sat down.

And Agamemnon caused the well-armed Greeks

To sit down also. Meantime Pallas sat,

With Phoebus of the silver bow, in shape

Like vultures, on the boughs of the tall beech⁠—

The tree of Father Jupiter who bears

The aegis⁠—and they looked with great delight

Upon the array of warriors in thick rows,

Horrid with shields and helm and bristling spears.

As when the west wind, rising fresh, breathes o’er

The deep, and darkens all its face with waves,

So seemed the Greeks and Trojans as they sat

In ranks upon the field, while Hector stood

Between the armies and bespake them thus:⁠—

“Ye Trojans, and ye well-armed Greeks, give ear

To what my spirit bids me speak. The son

Of Saturn, throned on high, hath not vouchsafed

To ratify the treaty we have made,

But meditates new miseries for us both,

Till ye possess the towery city of Troy,

Or, vanquished, yield yourselves beside the barques

That brought you o’er the sea. With you are found

The bravest sons of Greece. If one of these

Is moved to encounter me, let him stand forth

And fight with noble Hector. I propose,

And call on Jove to witness, that if he

Shall slay me with the long blade of his spear,

My arms are his to spoil and to bestow

Among the hollow ships; but he must send

My body home, that there the sons of Troy

And Trojan dames may burn it on the pyre.

But if I take his life, and Phoebus crown

My combat with that glory, I will strip

His armor off and carry it away

To hallowed Ilium, there to hang it high

Within the temple of the archer-god

Apollo; but his body I will send

Back to the well-oared ships, that on the beach

The long-haired Greeks may hold his funeral rites,

And rear his tomb by the wide Hellespont.

And then, in time to come, shall someone say,

Sailing in his good ship the dark-blue deep,

‘This is the sepulchre of one who died

Long since, and whom, though fighting gallantly,

Illustrious Hector slew.’ So shall he say

Hereafter, and my fame shall never die.”

He spake; but utter silence held them all⁠—

Ashamed to shun the encounter, yet afraid

To meet it⁠—till at length, with heavy heart,

Rose Menelaus from his seat, and thus

Bespake the army with reproachful words:⁠—

“O boastful ones, no longer to be called

Greek warriors, but Greek women! A disgrace

Grievous beyond all others will be ours,

If none be found in all the Achaian host

To meet this Hector. May you, every one,

There where ye now are sitting, turn to earth

And water, craven as ye are, and lost

To sense of glory! I will arm myself

For this encounter. With the immortal gods

Alone it rests to give the victory.”

He spake, and put his glorious armor on.

Then, Menelaus, had the Trojan’s hand

Ended thy life, for he was mightier far

Than thou, had not the Achaian kings at once

Uprisen to hold thee back, while Atreus’ son,

Wide-ruling Agamemnon, took thy hand

In his, and made thee listen while he spake:⁠—

“Sure, noble Menelaus, thou art mad.

Such frenzied daring suits not with the time.

Restrain thyself, though thou hast cause for wrath;

Nor in thy pride of courage meet in arms

One so much mightier⁠—Hector, Priam’s son,

Whom every other chief regards with fear,

Whom even Achilles, braver far than thou,

Dreads to encounter in the glorious fight.

Withdraw, then, to thy comrades, and sit down.

The Greeks will send some other champion forth

Against him; and though fearless, and athirst

For combat, he, I deem, will gladly bend

His weary knees to rest should he escape

From that fierce conflict in the lists alive.”

With words like these the Grecian hero changed

The purpose of his brother, who obeyed

The prudent counsel; and with great delight

The attendants stripped the armor from his breast.

Then Nestor rose amid the Greeks and said:⁠—

“Ye gods! A great calamity hath fallen

Upon Achaia. How the aged chief

Peleus, the illustrious counsellor and sage,

Who rules the Myrmidons, will now lament!⁠—

He who once gladly in his palace-home

Inquired of me the race and pedigree

Of the Greek warriors. Were he but to know

That all of them are basely cowering now

In Hector’s presence, how would he uplift

His hands and pray the gods that from his limbs

The parted soul might pass to the abode

Of Pluto! Would to Father Jupiter

And Pallas and Apollo that again

I were as young as when the Pylian host

And the Arcadians, mighty with the spear,

Fought on the banks of rapid Celadon

And near to Phaea and Iardan’s streams.

There godlike Ereuthalion stood among

Our foremost foes, and on his shoulders bore

The armor of King Areïthoüs⁠—

The noble Areïthoüs, whom men

And graceful women called the Mace-bearer;

For not with bow he fought, nor ponderous lance,

But broke the phalanxes with iron mace.

Lycurgus slew him, but by stratagem,

And not by strength; he from a narrow way,

Where was no room to wield the iron mace,

Through Areïthoüs thrust the spear: he fell

Backward; the victor took his arms, which Mars

The war-god gave, and which in after-time

Lycurgus wore on many a battle-field.

And when within his palace he grew old,

He gave them to be worn by one he loved⁠—

To Ereuthalion, who attended him

In battle, and who, wearing them, defied

The bravest of our host. All trembled; all

Held back in fear, nor dared encounter him.

But me a daring trust in my own strength

Impelled to meet him. I was youngest then

Of all the chiefs; I fought, and Pallas gave

The victory over him, and thus I slew

The hugest and most strong of men; he lay

Extended in vast bulk upon the ground.

Would I were young as then, my frame unworn

By years! And Hector of the beamy helm

Should meet an adversary soon; but now

No one of all the chieftains here, renowned

To be the bravest of the Achaian race,

Hastens to meet in arms the Trojan chief.”

Thus with upbraiding words the old man spake;

And straight arose nine warriors from their seats.

The first was Agamemnon, king of men;

The second, brave Tydides Diomed;

And then the chieftains Ajax, bold and strong;

And then Idomeneus, with whom arose

Meriones, his armor-bearer, great

As Mars himself in battle. After them,

Eurypylus, Evaemon’s valiant son,

And Thoas, offspring of Androemon, rose,

And the divine Ulysses⁠—claiming all

To encounter noble Hector in the lists.

But then spake Nestor the Gerenian knight:⁠—

“Now let us cast the lot for all, and see

To whom it falls; for greatly will he aid

The nobly-armed Achaians, and as great

Will be his share of honor should he come

Alive from the hard trial of the fight.”

Then each one marked his lot, and all were cast

Into the helm of Agamemnon, son

Of Atreus. All the people lifted up

Their hands in prayer to the ever-living gods,

And turned their eyes to the broad heaven, and said:

“Grant, Father Jove, that Ajax, or the son

Of Tydeus, or the monarch who bears rule

In rich Mycenae may obtain the lot.”

Such was their prayer, while the Gerenian knight,

Old Nestor, shook the lots; and from the helm

Leaped forth the lot of Ajax, as they wished.

A herald took it, and from right to left

Bore it through all the assembly, showing it

To all the leaders of the Greeks. No one

Knew it, and all disclaimed it. When at last,

Carried through all the multitude, it came

To Ajax the renowned, who had inscribed

And laid it in the helmet, he stretched forth

His hand, while at his side the herald stood,

And took and looked upon it, knew his sign,

And gloried as he looked, and cast it down

Upon the ground before his feet, and said:⁠—

“O friends! The lot is mine, and I rejoice

Heartily, for I think to overcome

The noble Hector. Now, while I put on

My armor for the fight, pray ye to Jove,

The mighty son of Saturn, silently,

Unheard by them of Troy, or else aloud,

Since we fear no one. None by strength of arm

Shall vanquish me, or find me inexpert

In battle, nor was I to that degree

Ill-trained in Salamis, where I was born.”

He spake; and they to Saturn’s monarch-son

Prayed, looking up to the broad heaven, and said:⁠—

“O Father Jove! Most mighty, most august!

Who rulest from the Idaean mount, vouchsafe

That Ajax bear away the victory

And everlasting honor; but if thou

Dost cherish Hector and protect his life,

Give equal strength to both, and equal fame.”

Such were their words, while Ajax armed himself

In glittering brass; and, when about his limbs

The mail was buckled, forward rushed the chief.

As moves the mighty Mars to war among

The heroes whom the son of Saturn sends

To struggle on the field in murderous strife,

So the great Ajax, bulwark of the Greeks,

With a grim smile came forward, and with strides

Firm-set and long, and shook his ponderous spear.

The Greeks exulted at the sight; dismay

Seized every Trojan: even Hector’s heart

Quailed in his bosom; yet he might not now

Withdraw through fear, nor seek to hide among

The throng of people, since himself had given

The challenge. Ajax, drawing near, upheld

A buckler like a rampart, bright with brass,

And strong with ox-hides seven. The cunning hand

Of Tychius, skilled beyond all other men

In leather-work, had wrought it at his home

In Hyla. He for Ajax framed the shield

With hides of pampered bullocks in seven folds,

And an eighth fold of brass⁠—the outside fold.

This Telamonian Ajax held before

His breast, as he approached, and threatening said:⁠—

“Now shalt thou, Hector, singly matched with me,

Learn by what chiefs the Achaian host is led

Besides Achilles, mighty though he be to

To break through squadrons, and of lion-heart

Still in the beaked ships in which he crossed

The sea he cherishes his wrath against

The shepherd of the people⁠—Atreus’ son.

But we have those that dare defy thee yet,

And they are many. Let the fight begin.”

Then answered Hector of the plumèd helm:⁠—

“O high-born Ajax, son of Telamon,

And prince among thy people, think thou not

To treat me like a stripling weak of arm,

Or woman all untrained to tasks of war.

I know what battles are and bloody frays,

And how to shift to right and left the shield.

Of seasoned hide, and, unfatigued, maintain

The combat; how on foot to charge the foe

With steps that move to martial airs, and how

To leap into the chariot and pursue

The war with rushing steeds. Yet not by stealth

Seek I to smite thee, valiant as thou art,

But in fair open battle, if I may.”

He spake, and, brandishing his ponderous lance,

Hurled it; and on the outer plate of brass,

Which covered the seven bullock-hides, it struck

The shield of Ajax. Through the brass and through

Six folds of hides the irresistible spear

Cut its swift way, and at the seventh was stopped.

Then high-born Ajax cast his massive spear

In turn, and drove it through the fair, round shield

Of Priam’s son. Through that bright buckler went

The rapid weapon, pierced the well-wrought mail,

And tore the linen tunic at the flank.

But Hector stooped and thus avoided death.

They took their spears again, and, coming close,

Like lions in their hunger, or wild boars

Of fearful strength, joined battle. Priam’s son

Sent his spear forward, striking in the midst

The shield of Ajax, but it broke not through

The brass; the metal turned the weapon’s point.

While Ajax, springing onward, smote the shield

Of Hector, drave his weapon through, and checked

His enemy’s swift advance, and wounded him

Upon the shoulder, and the black blood flowed.

Yet not for this did plumèd Hector cease

From combat, but went back, and, lifting up

A huge, black, craggy stone that near him lay,

Flung it with force against the middle boss

Of the broad sevenfold shield that Ajax bore.

The brass rang with the blow. Then Ajax raised

A heavier stone, and whirled it, putting forth

His arm’s immeasurable strength; it brake

Through Hector’s shield as if a millstone’s weight

Had fallen. His knees gave way; he fell to earth

Headlong; yet still he kept his shield. At once

Apollo raised him up; and now with swords,

Encountering hand to hand, they both had flown

To wound each other, if the heralds sent

As messengers from Jupiter and men

Had not approached⁠—Idaeus from the side

Of Troy, Talthybius from the Grecian host⁠—

Wise ancients both. Betwixt the twain they held

Their sceptres, and the sage Idaeus spake:⁠—

“Cease to contend, dear sons, in deadly fray;

Ye both are loved by cloud-compelling Jove,

And both are great in war, as all men know.

The night is come; be then the night obeyed.”

And Telamonian Ajax answered thus:⁠—

“Idaeus, first let Hector speak of this,

For he it was who challenged to the field

The bravest of the Grecian host, and I

Shall willingly obey if he obeys.”

To him in turn the plumèd Hector said:⁠—

“Ajax, although God gave thee bulk and strength

And prudence, and in mastery of the spear

Thou dost excel the other Greeks, yet now

Pause we from battle and the rivalry

Of prowess for this day. Another time

We haply may renew the fight till fate

Shall part us and bestow the victory

On one of us. But now the night is here,

And it is good to obey the night, that thou

Mayst gladden at the fleet the Greeks and all

Thy friends and comrades, and that I in turn

May give the Trojan men and long-robed dames,

In the great city where King Priam reigns,

Cause to rejoice⁠—the dames who pray for me,

Thronging the hallowed temple. Let us now

Each with the other leave some noble gift,

That all men, Greek or Trojan, thus may say:

‘They fought indeed in bitterness of heart,

But they were reconciled, and parted friends.’ ”

He spake, and gave a silver-studded sword

And scabbard with its fair embroidered belt;

And Ajax gave a girdle brightly dyed

With purple. Then they both departed⁠—one

To join the Grecian host, and one to meet

The Trojan people, who rejoiced to see

Hector alive, unwounded, and now safe

From the great might and irresistible arm

Of Ajax. Straightway to the town they led

Him for whose life they scarce had dared to hope.

And Ajax also by the well-armed Greeks,

Exulting in his feats of arms, was brought

To noble Agamemnon. When the chiefs

Were in his tents, the monarch sacrificed

A bullock of five summers to the son

Of Saturn, sovereign Jupiter. They flayed

The carcass, dressed it, carved away the limbs,

Divided into smaller parts the flesh,

Fixed them on spits, and roasted them with care,

And drew them from the fire. And when the task

Was finished, and the banquet all prepared,

They feasted, and there was no guest who lacked

His equal part in that repast. The son

Of Atreus, Agamemnon, brave, and lord

Of wide dominions, gave the chine entire

To Ajax as his due. Now when the calls

Of thirst and hunger ceased, the aged chief

Nestor, whose words had ever seemed most wise,

Opened the council with this prudent speech:⁠—

“Atrides, and ye other chiefs of Greece!

Full many a long-haired warrior of our host

Hath perished. Cruel Mars hath spilt their blood

Beside Scamander’s gentle stream; their souls

Have gone to Hades. Give thou, then, command,

That all the Greeks tomorrow pause from war,

And come together at the early dawn,

And bring the dead in chariots drawn by mules

And oxen, and consume them near our fleet

With fire, that we, when we return from war,

May carry to our native land the bones,

And give them to the children of the slain.

And then will we go forth and heap from earth,

Upon the plain, a common tomb for all

Around the funeral pile, and build high towers

With speed beside it, which shall be alike

A bulwark for our navy and our host.

And let the entrance be a massive gate,

Through which shall pass an ample chariot-way.

And in a circle on its outer edge

Sink we a trench so deep that neither steeds

Nor men may pass, if these proud Trojans yet

Should, in the coming battles, press us sore.”

He spake; the princes all approved his words.

Meanwhile, beside the lofty citadel

Of Ilium and at Priam’s palace-gates

In turbulence and fear the Trojans held

A council, and the wise Antenor spake:⁠—

“Hearken, ye Trojans, Dardans, and allies,

To what my sober judgment bids me speak.

Send we the Argive Helen back with all

Her treasures; let the sons of Atreus lead

The dame away; for now we wage the war

After our faith is broken, and I deem

We cannot prosper till we make amends.”

He spake, and sat him down. The noble chief

Paris, the fair-haired Helen’s husband, rose

To answer him, and spake this wingèd speech:⁠—

“Thy words, Antenor, please me not. Thy skill

Could offer better counsels. If those words

Were gravely meant, the gods have made thee mad.

But let me here, amid these knights of Troy,

Speak openly my mind. Give up my wife

I never will; but all the wealth I brought

With her from Argos I most willingly

Restore, with added treasures of my own.”

He said, and took his seat, and in the midst

Dardanian Priam rose, a counsellor

Of godlike wisdom, and thus sagely spake:⁠—

“Hear me, ye Trojans, Dardans, and allies!

I speak the thought that rises in my breast.

Take now, as ye are wont, your evening meal

And set a watch and keep upon your guard;

But let Idaeus to the hollow ships

Repair at morning, and to Atreus’ sons⁠—

To Agamemnon and his brother king⁠—

Make known what Paris, author of this strife,

Proposes, and with fairly ordered speech

Ask further if they will consent to pause

From cruel battle till we burn the dead:

Then be the war renewed till fate shall part

The hosts and give to one the victory.”

He spake. The assembly listened and obeyed;

All through the camp in groups they took their meal.

But with the morn Idaeus visited

The hollow ships, and found the Achaian chiefs,

Followers of Mars, in council near the prow

Of Agamemnon’s barque; and, standing there,

The loud-voiced herald spake his message thus:⁠—

“Ye sons of Atreus, and ye other chiefs

Of all the tribes of Greece, I come to you

From Priam and the eminent men of Troy,

To say, if it be pleasing to your ears,

What Alexander, author of the war,

Proposes. All the wealth which in his ships

He brought to Troy⁠—would he had perished first!⁠—

He will, with added treasures of his own,

Freely restore; but her who was the wife

Of gallant Menelaus he denies

To render back, though all who dwell in Troy

Join to demand it. I am furthermore

Bidden to ask if you consent to pause

From cruel battle till we burn our dead:

Then be the war renewed till fate shall part

The hosts and give to one the victory.”

He spake; and all were silent for a space.

Then spake at length the valiant Diomed:⁠—

“Let none consent to take the Trojan’s goods,

Nor even Helen; for a child may see

The utter ruin hanging over Troy.”

He spake. The admiring Greeks confirmed with shouts

The words of Diomed the knight, and thus

King Agamemnon to Idaeus said:⁠—

“Idaeus, thou thyself hast heard the Greeks

Pronounce their answer. What to them seems good

Pleases me also. For the slain, I give

Consent to burn them; to the dead we bear

No hatred; when they fall the rite of fire

Should soon be paid. Let Juno’s husband, Jove

The Thunderer, bear witness to our truce.”

The monarch spake, and raised to all the gods

His sceptre, while Idaeus took his way

To hallowed Ilium. There in council sat

Trojans and Dardans, waiting his return.

He came, and standing in the midst declared

His message. Then they all went forth in haste,

Some to collect the slain and some to fell

Trees in the forest. From their well-benched ships

The Achaians also issued, some to bring

The dead together, some to gather wood.

Now from the smooth deep ocean-stream the sun

Began to climb the heavens, and with new rays

Smote the surrounding fields. The Trojans met,

But found it hard to know their dead again.

They washed away the clotted blood, and laid⁠—

Shedding hot tears⁠—the bodies on the cars.

And since the mighty Priam’s word forbade

All wailing, silently they bore away

Their slaughtered friends, and heaped them on the pyre

With aching hearts, and, when they had consumed

The dead with fire, returned to hallowed Troy.

The nobly-armed Achaians also heaped

Their slaughtered warriors on the funeral pile

With aching hearts; and when they had consumed

Their dead with fire they sought their hollow ships.

And ere the morning came, while earth was gray

With twilight, by the funeral pile arose

A chosen band of Greeks, who, going forth,

Heaped round it from the earth a common tomb

For all, and built a wall and lofty towers

Near it⁠—a bulwark for the fleet and host.

And in the wall they fitted massive gates,

Through which there passed an ample chariot-way;

And on its outer edge they sank a trench⁠—

Broad, deep⁠—and planted it with pointed stakes.

So labored through the night the long-haired Greeks.

The gods who sat beside the Thunderer Jove

Admired the mighty labor of the Greeks;

But Neptune, he who shakes the earth, began:⁠—

“O Father Jove, henceforth will any one

Of mortal men consult the immortal gods?

Seest thou not how the long-haired Greeks have reared

A wall before their navy, and have drawn

A trench around it, yet have brought the gods

No liberal hecatombs? Now will the fame

Of this their work go forth wherever shines

The light of day, and men will quite forget

The wall which once we built with toiling hands⁠—

Phoebus Apollo and myself⁠—around

The city of renowned Laomedon.”

And cloud-compelling Jove in wrath replied:⁠—

“Earth-shaking power! What words are these? Some god

Of meaner rank and feebler arm than thou

Might haply dread the work the Greeks have planned.

But as for thee, thy glory shall be known

Wherever shines the day; and when at last

The crested Greeks, departing in their ships,

Shall seek their native coasts, do thou o’erthrow

The wall they built, and sink it in the deep,

And cover the great shore again with sand.

Thus shall their bulwark vanish from the plain.”

So talked they with each other while the sun

Was setting. But the Achaians now had brought

Their labors to an end; they slew their steers

Beside the tents and shared the evening meal,

While many ships had come to land with store

Of wine from Lemnos, which Euneüs sent⁠—

Euneüs whom Hypsipyle brought forth

To Jason, shepherd of the people. These

Brought wine, a thousand measures, as a gift

To Agamemnon and his brother king,

The sons of Atreus. But the long-haired Greeks

Bought for themselves their wines; some gave their brass,

And others shining steel; some bought with hides,

And some with steers, and some with slaves, and thus

Prepared an ample banquet. Through the night

Feasted the long-haired Greeks. The Trojan host

And their auxiliar warriors banqueted

Within the city-walls. Through all that night

The Great Disposer, Jove, portended woe

To both with fearful thunderings. All were pale

With terror; from their beakers all poured wine

Upon the ground, and no man dared to drink

Who had not paid to Saturn’s mighty son

The due libation. Then they laid them down

To rest, and so received the balm of sleep.