The tide of battle had thus turned again, and the Greeks were being
driven steadily back upon their camp. The roar of the conflict reached
the ears of Achilles, who was standing near his ship, peering out
eagerly over the Trojan plain; and at the same moment he saw Nestor
driving past in his chariot, bringing with him the wounded Machaon.
Then he called to Patroclus, and bade him go and inquire who the
injured man was. "I think," he added, "that it was Machaon; but the
car passed me in a flash, and I saw not his face. Methinks the hour of
my revenge is near, for the Greeks are in a sore strait." Ah! son of
Peleus, thy revenge is indeed near, but thou little dreamest how dearly
thou wilt pay for that bitter morsel.
When Patroclus reached the tent of Nestor he found the venerable King
of Pylos sitting with Machaon, waiting while a handmaid prepared for
them a slight refection. The woman drew a table before them, and on it
she placed a brazen dish, with onions, and honeycomb, and barley cakes.
Then she took a massive cup, embossed with gold, resting on a double
base, and having four golden handles, each one of which was wrought in
the form of two doves, which seemed to be feeding from the cup. In
this vessel she prepared a posset, pouring in a rich red wine, into
which she sprinkled cheese of goats' milk and white barley meal. And
when the posset was ready she set it on the table, and bade them drink.
The cup was very weighty, and a strong hand was needed to lift it to
the lips; but Nestor raised it easily, old as he was, and was about to
take a draught, when, looking up, he saw Patroclus standing at the door
of the tent. Replacing the goblet on the table, Nestor rose to greet
him, and taking him by the hand invited him to enter. But Patroclus
hesitated, wishing to return at once with the required information to
his friend, whose impatient and exacting mood he knew and feared. "I
was sent," he said, "to ask the name of the wounded man, and I see that
it is Machaon. Achilles waits for an answer, and I dare not keep him
waiting." Nevertheless, he lingered awhile, and listened to the long
harangue of that "old man eloquent," who soon wandered, according to
his wont, into a long story of his youthful prowess, when he lived as
the sole survivor of twelve sons in the house of his father Neleus.
"But why," he asked, when that theme was exhausted--"why should
Achilles inquire about one wounded Greek? He knows not the extent of
our mischances, nor how much cause we have to mourn. Diomede, the
valiant son of Tydeus, is stricken with an arrow, Agamemnon also is
wounded, and likewise Odysseus. Will Achilles now be satisfied, or is
he waiting until our ships are consumed with fire, and all of us put to
the sword? Would that this arm of mine were as of yore, when I was the
bulwark of my father's house, and of all my people. But Achilles puts
forth his might and his valour only for his own honour and glory, and
cares not though his country perish. Canst thou do nothing with him?
Remember the charge which Menœtius, thy father, gave thee, when we
were sojourning, I and Odysseus, in the house of Peleus. We came
thither to summon thee and Achilles to the war, and ye were both fain
to go. And these were the parting words of Menœtius to thee: "My
son, Achilles, is far mightier than thou, but thou art the elder, and
it is for thee to guide him, and counsel him for his good. Be wise,
and be kind, and he will obey thee."
"Ah! take those words to heart, and reason with that wilful youth. If
he is obeying some oracle from Zeus, which forbids him to go into
battle, at least let him send thee to lead the Myrmidons in his stead,
and let him lend thee his armour, that the Trojans may be affrighted
when they see thee, thinking that Achilles has arisen. Thus, at least,
we shall get a little respite, and gain time to breathe."
Pondering deeply on the last words of Nestor, which were to prove so
fatal to himself, Patroclus hastened back on the way to his own
quarters. But he was to be delayed a second time: for as he was
passing the tent of Odysseus he met Eurypylus, one of the bravest of
the Greeks, who came limping towards him, being wounded in the thigh by
an arrow. He was a pitiful sight, begrimed with dust and sweat, and
bleeding copiously from his wound. And Patroclus groaned in spirit
when he saw him, for he was cut to the heart to find so many of his
comrades disabled. "Woe is me!" he said, with a glance of pity, "to
see thee thus. But tell me, how goes the day?"
"We can keep the field no longer," answered Eurypylus. "The Greeks
must retire behind their barriers. But thou seest how grievously I am
hurt; take me with thee to thy tent, and cut the arrow out of my thigh,
and when thou hast washed my wound with warm water, lay thereon some of
the powerful simples which Achilles received from the wise centaur,
Chiron. For of the two leeches of the army one, Machaon, is in need of
a physician himself, and Podalirius, the other, is fighting in the
front."
"I am in haste," said Patroclus, "howbeit, I will not leave thee in
this state"; and, supporting the wounded man in his arms, he guided him
slowly to his tent, and seating him on a couch of bulls' hides played
the part of physician with such skill and success that the blood was
stanched, and the sharp pain allayed.