The Iliad and the Odyssey (Classics of World Literature) (4 page)

Book 14

Nestor and the Greek leaders not on the field discuss the situation, showing their usual characteristics: Agamemnon for the third time proposes withdrawing, Odysseus roundly condemns the suggestion, Diomedes single-mindedly proposes that they return to the battlefield even though he is himself wounded.

Hera has been watching Poseidon’s championship of the Greeks while Zeus’s back was turned; she comes up with a more radical plan of deception and disobedience. She goes to the pro-Trojan Aphrodite and persuades her to give her the girdle of desirability, the
kestos
, ostensibly to reunite the two gods Oceanus and Tethys. She then bribes the reluctant god of sleep to keep Zeus comatose after she has seduced him, so that she can affect the battle before Troy, and Poseidon can encourage the Greeks. Fully equipped, she visits Zeus, who is overwhelmed with desire for her greater than that he has felt for any goddess or woman – even his seven greatest conquests, all of which he details for her. Underneath their embrace spring soft flowers; the consequences of their union will be Trojan dead.

Book 15

When Zeus awakes to see Hector wounded and the Trojans in flight, with Poseidon in pursuit, he threatens to repeat his former violence to Hera. Hera escapes the charge on a technicality. Zeus, pleased at her submission, prophesies what is to happen: the deaths of Patroclus, Hector and his own son Sarpedon, all as the consequences of the supplication of Thetis. Ares angrily demurs, pleading the need to avenge his son regardless of the consequences. Athene reasons with him. By now some other mortal, better or stronger than his son, will have been or will soon be killed. It is a hard thing to rescue all the generations of mortals.

Iris is sent to make Poseidon comply, with the reminder that Zeus is more powerful and older than Poseidon and that the Furies side with the elder born: Poseidon denies him the precedence if not the power, but is persuaded of the rightness of her case. He yields, provided Zeus does not in the end spare Troy.

Apollo is sent down to hearten and inspire Hector. The Trojans despatch many Greeks; with Apollo’s help, they wreck the Greek bastions like a child playing on a beach. As sandcastles to wanton boys are the bulwarks of men to the gods:

And then, as he had chok’d their dyke, he tumbled down their wall.

And look how easily any boy, upon the sea-ebb’d shore,

Makes with a little sand a toy, and cares for it no more,

But as he rais’d it childishly, so in his wanton vein,

Both with his hands and feet he pulls and spurns it down again.

The terrified Greeks pray to Zeus; he thunders, which omen the Trojans take as favourable to them.

Patroclus meanwhile has been attending to Eurypylus, but on seeing the Trojans swarm over the ramparts and threaten the Greek ships, he sees that the time has come to put Nestor’s suggestion to Achilles. The shape of the battle becomes tauter, and Hector makes straight for Ajax. Teucer, Ajax’s brother, goes to his aid but as he fires his arrow his newly-twisted string breaks. All see this as a mark of divine interference: Teucer and Ajax attribute it to some pro-Trojan god, the poet and Hector to Zeus.

Both Hector and Ajax speak rousingly to their forces: Hector of Zeus’s plan and the honour of defending their families, Ajax of the imminence of the crisis and the respect that serves both glory and self-preservation. Hector, in his Zeus-granted hour of glory, rages like a murderous lion. Respect, fear, and Nestor’s exhortations to think of their fathers, are the only things that keep the Greeks from scattering.

Ajax, like a display rider, leaps agilely from ship to ship to fight and encourage the Greeks, while Hector like an eagle darts for one ship, to fight at close quarters. The book ends with Ajax being forced slowly back and calling for a last-ditch effort, while Hector in Zeus’s name, calls for fire to burn the Greek ships.

Book 16

With Hector on the point of defeating the Greeks, so going against the fate-ordained end by firing their ships and trapping them without the means to escape, Book 16 picks up Patroclus’ story from Book 11. In tears, he returns to the waiting Achilles to report the plight of the Greeks:

‘Wherefore weeps my friend

So like a girl, who, though she sees her mother cannot tend

Her childish humours, hangs on her, and would be taken up,

Still viewing her with tear-drown’d eyes, when she has made her stoop?’

Patroclus begs for Achilles’ arms, ‘since any shadow seen’ of Achilles will hearten the Greeks and frighten the Trojans. The poet marks the significance of this, the request that brings tragedy on Patroclus, Hector, numerous Trojans and Achilles himself:

Thus foolish man he su’d

For his sure death.

Achilles consents, but only if Patroclus goes no further than warding off the immediate danger from the Greek, and his own, ships. This will enhance Achilles’ glory; to go beyond would diminish it and bring him up against the gods.

Meanwhile Ajax is being battered by the Trojans, by the will of Zeus and by Hector. As the fire approaches his own ships, Achilles helps to muster the Myrmidons, who pour out like a pack of ravening, slavering wolves, with Patroclus at their head. Achilles, after careful ritual, prays to Zeus that his dear friend may be successful, sufficient and prudent:

‘But fight he ne’er so well,

No further let him trust his fight, but, when he shall repel

Clamour and danger from our fleet, vouchsafe a safe retreat

To him and all his companies, with fames and arms complete.’

Zeus grants one prayer and denies the other. The Myrmidons, like angry wasps stirred up by idle children, fall on the ‘amazed’ Trojans and force them back. Patroclus is preeminent in the fighting; over many from both sides close ‘blood-red death and strong destiny’. Sarpedon resolves to stem the retreat by standing against Patroclus; they face each other like vultures. Zeus, watching, sees that Sarpedon, his son, is destined to die, as he had outlined in Book 15. Much moved at the reality he considers intervening. Hera points out that to go against a mortal’s marked fate would disrupt the boundary between mortal and immortal. Rather, Zeus must accept that the proper end, the reward, for a mortal is to have due burial and a physical memorial, a focus for the commemoration that dead heroes receive. Zeus weeps bloody tears for his son.

Sarpedon dies, like a tree felled or a bull savaged, clawing in the dust. He adjures Glaucus, already wounded, to fight over his body. Glaucus is overwhelmed with grief and pain, and prays to Apollo; he calls on the Trojan leaders to avenge him, their mainstay. Against the raging Trojans line up Patroclus and the Ajaxes, burning to strip Sarpedon’s body which soon becomes buried under weapons and fighting, like a milk pail covered by flies.

Hector sees that the scales are turning against him and loses heart, leaving the Myrmidons to despoil the corpse, which is spirited away by Sleep and Death. But the scales are turning too against Patroclus. In the grip of passion, he forgets Achilles’ injunction, ‘which had he kept, had kept black death from him’, and chases the Trojans not only away from the ships but right across the battle zone up to the walls of Troy. The poet asks him, as though he could be the narrator of his doom, who else he took with him to his death. Patroclus is like ‘one of heaven’ as he attacks the walls of Troy; on his fourth assault Apollo tells him to cease what exceeds his fate. Patroclus gives way, and Apollo goes to Hector to tempt him to triumph over him.

Patroclus, ‘so near his own grave death’, mocks the dying fall of Hector’s charioteer and fights Hector over the body, while Trojans and Greeks contest for dominance as ‘winds strive to make a lofty wood Bow to their greatness’. Bodies fall like trees; the Greeks come out on top, ‘past measure’. Three times Patroclus charges and wins superhuman victories; then the end of his life appears as, unseen, dreadful Apollo himself strikes him. Achilles’ helmet is taken up by Hector, ‘whose death was near’, and ‘in confusion, thus dismay’d’ Patroclus is then wounded by a passing Trojan. Hector sees his advantage and delivers the final blow: ‘on thee shall vultures prey, Poor wretch, nor shall thy mighty friend afford thee any aid’, even though he no doubt told you not to come home before ‘hewing great Hector’s breast’. The dying Patroclus answers that he has been beaten by the gods, not by him, together with destiny which will shortly wait on him in the shape of Achilles:

‘And this one thing more concerns thee; note it then:

Thou shalt not long survive thyself; nay, now Death calls for thee,

And violent Fate; Achilles’ lance shall make this good for me.’

With these words, his soul flies away, ‘sorrowing for his sad fate, to leave him young’. Hector refuses to accept the words as prophetic and takes Achilles’ armour.

Book 17

Menelaus bestrides the body, and there kills Euphorbus, a lovely young man:

. . . all with gore

His locks, that like the Graces were, and which he ever wore

In gold and silver ribands wrapp’d, were piteously wet.

Euphorbus was the first to wound Patroclus. His death, however, is described in a long pathetic simile – like an olive tree with spreading branches curled with snowy flowers, watered with delicious springs, which is uprooted by a sudden gale.

Apollo recalls Hector from chasing Achilles’ divine horses. Menelaus debates whether to withdraw from facing Hector and the god, which would be prudent, but the hasty abandonment of Patroclus’ corpse and arms would offend the Greeks. He makes a ‘lion-like retreat’ and eventually returns with Ajax to the now despoiled body of Patroclus.

Glaucus meanwhile upbraids Hector for abandoning Sarpedon’s corpse and showing ingratitude to his allies. He demands they get Patroclus’ body inside Troy to use as barter for Sarpedon’s armour. Hector rebuts the charge and assumes Achilles’ divine armour. Zeus, addressing him as the poet addressed Patroclus, strengthens him for what will be his final battle, granting him:

‘Those arms, in glory of thy acts, thou shalt have that frail blaze

Of excellence that neighbours death, a strength ev’n to amaze.’

Hector calls on all the allies and offers half the spoils and equal glory to whoever gets Patroclus’ body inside the walls. They rush to obey, the fighting very fierce until the ground runs with blood: ‘Silly fools, Ajax prevented this, By raising ramparts to his friend with half their carcasses.’ The bloody struggle over the body continues like that to stretch and cure a fat-drenched ox-hide. The body, like the whole expedition, has become something that cannot be given up without loss of honour, even when the cost is high.

Achilles’ mother conceals Patroclus’ death from him; Achilles’ horses stand like statues on a tomb in grief for him. Zeus pities them, as deathless creatures involved with mortals and subject, like Thetis, to a grief that too is deathless.

The bitter fighting continues; the Trojans have the advantage. Finally, however, the Ajaxes start to clear a path for Patroclus’ body as, the myth goes, Odysseus would later clear a path for Achilles’. Patroclus’ death foreshadows and in some ways brings about Achilles’. There is a strong sense that by borrowing and dying in Achilles’ armour, his warrior’s skin and identity, he has ensured the death of the man he was impersonating.

Book 18

Achilles, waiting in fearful anticipation, guesses that Patroclus is dead, even before news is brought. Patroclus is his beloved, is his responsibility. He has died because Achilles refused to help their friends; he has died in Achilles’ armour and in Achilles’ stead. Achilles cannot cope with the loss and is overborne by rage and grief.

His grief reaches Thetis, who comes to him as she did, tragically as it has turned out, in Book 1. The favour showed him by Zeus, at her request, has had a terrible outcome. He is doomed if he kills Hector, yet must wreak vengeance for his friend. He regrets, but lays aside, the wrath that caused his inaction and Patroclus’ death; she laments for the best of sons, now doomed to an early death. He too is aware of the everlasting grief brought on her by his death but he does not now seek to evade it.

‘And if such fate expect my life, where death strikes, I will lie.

Meantime I wish a good renown. . . But any further stay

(Which your much love perhaps may wish) assay not to persuade;

All vows are kept, all pray’rs heard, now free way for fight is made.’

She offers the only comfort she can – new armour so that he can go back into battle to find the vengeance and renown that is all his short life can now offer him.

The struggle over the body is suddenly resolved when Achilles shows himself – a sight that brings panic to the Trojans even though he is unarmed. The Greeks bring the body back, a warrior’s cortège; the sun sets in mark of the disjointedness and extremity of the death:

. . . his friends, with all remorse,

Marching about it. His great friend, dissolving then in tears

To see his truly-lov’d return’d so hors’d upon a hearse,

Whom with such horse and chariot he set out safe and whole,

Now wounded with unpitying steel, now sent without a soul,

Never again to be restor’d, never receiv’d but so,

He follow’d mourning bitterly. The sun (yet far to go)

Juno commanded to go down, who in his pow’r’s despite

Sunk to the ocean, over earth dispersing sudden night.

On the Trojan side Polydamas, as always, counsels caution and retrenchment. Hector, antipathetic to him and his advice, is unwilling to give up the day’s advances, is unwilling to ‘retreat to Troy’s old prison’ even if it means a trial of strength with Achilles. The Trojans, ‘fools’, applaud this worse counsel: ‘Minerva robb’d them of their brains, to like the ill advice’. As often, a god is shown as externally influencing a course of action which is equally pictured as determined by the psychology of the individuals.

Achilles spends the night in grief-stricken reminiscence, in tending the corpse, and in vowing vengeance and offerings: Hector and twelve Trojan princes as human sacrifice.

Hephaestus agrees to forge divine armour for him to replace that which was despoiled from Patroclus, to do him honour for the rest of his short life and so that other men wonder at it when he comes to meet his fate. On the wonderful shield is depicted the cosmos and two cities: