The Greeks were now driven back upon their defences, and a furious
struggle ensued for the possession of the walls. The battle was no
longer a succession of duels, such as we have witnessed hitherto, but a
desperate contest for life and death, in which high and low, nobles and
commons, had to take their share. As before, Hector took the lead, and
tried to force his way across the moat, and up the steep slope on the
other side, which was topped by a wall of stone, and a stiff fence of
palisades. Again and again he rushed at the yawning moat in his car,
but each time his horses refused the leap, and stood neighing and
trembling, with their hoofs planted at the brink.
At last, perceiving that he was wasting his strength to no purpose, he
changed his method of attack, and leaving his car in charge of a squire
prepared to lead the assault on foot. Some time was lost while he was
collecting a picked body of men to follow him, and instructing them how
to proceed; and while he was taking his measures, Asius, a captain of
the allies, made a bold attempt to carry the Greek position at a single
blow. Disregarding Hector's orders, he remained in his chariot, called
to his troop to keep close behind him, and drove rapidly round the line
of the wall, looking for a weak point where he might hope to force an
entrance. He succeeded beyond his hopes; for on the extreme left of
the camp he found a gate which was still open to admit any stragglers
who might have been left behind in the flight of the Greeks. With a
shout of triumph he drove straight at the open gateway, with all his
company following pell-mell. But just as he was about to cross the
portals he found himself confronted by a pair of gigantic brothers, who
stood like two mighty oaks deep-rooted on a mountain top, ready to
dispute the way. They were well supported by the defenders who lined
the walls, and a hail of stones and javelins rattled down on the
shields of Asius and his men, who were driven back with loss and
compelled to retire out of range. The gates were then closed and
barred, and for this time the camp was saved.
Meanwhile the Trojans under Hector's command were still hesitating on
the brink of the moat. For a strange portent had occurred, which gave
them pause, just as they were rushing to the assault. On the left hand
of the army they saw an eagle soaring high in the air, holding a huge
serpent in his talons, which writhed and struggled to escape. And
indeed the eagle had met his match, for suddenly the serpent drew back
his head, and darting forward bit his captor in the breast. The eagle
gave a scream of pain, and dropping the serpent, which fell in the
midst of the Trojans, flew swiftly away.
All stood amazed, and doubt and fear crept into their hearts when they
saw the monster writhing at their feet. At last Polydamas, a warrior
who was famed for his skill in augury, turned to Hector, and said: "My
prince, the sign is against us; and as the eagle was stricken, when he
strove to carry the dappled snake to his young, so shall we also be
stricken, if we persist in our assault on the Grecian stronghold. Let
us draw off our men, lest we be found fighting against the gods, and
bring upon ourselves rout and disaster."
"Polydamas," answered Hector, with bended brows, "if thou hast no
better counsel than this thou hadst better hold thy peace, for the gods
have marred thy wit. Vain man! knowest thou not that we came hither
under a sure promise from Zeus? Are we to obey his voice, or shall we
be cowed by the flapping of a wing? What care I for any fowl that
flies east or west, while I stand under the favour of heaven's high
lord? To the patriot all omens are good, when his country summons him
to her defence. A truce to thine idle prate! Thou hast naught to
fear, whether we fight or fly, for thou art never seen on the perilous
edge of battle. But keep thy cold counsels for thine own coward heart,
or I will find means to lock thy lips for ever."
Thereupon he sprang forward towards the wall, and all his men followed,
raising a deafening shout. And from the glens of Ida there came a
rushing mighty wind, which bore a blinding cloud of dust into the faces
of the Greeks, and hindered them in the work of defence. The Trojans
had now crossed the moat, and were striving with all their force to
break down the wall. Some tugged at the battlements, and tried to pull
them down, while others brought levers to overthrow the projecting
buttresses. On the other side the Greeks fought stubbornly, making a
fence with their shields along the line of the wall, and keeping up a
shower of javelins and stones.
Foremost in the defence were the greater and lesser Ajax, who hurried
up and down the battlements, encouraging, rebuking, and threatening.
"Stand fast!" they cried. "This is no time for flinching. Let every
man do his part, whether he be weak or strong. Your lives are in your
own hands."
As on a winter day, when Zeus has lulled the winds to sleep, and all
the air is thick with flying snowflakes, until mountain top and jutting
promontory, green field and black ploughland, level shore and rocky
bay, are all hidden under the same dazzling mantle, whose fringe
touches the cold, grey sea--so thick flew the missiles on either side,
rattling down uninterruptedly on battlement and helmet and shield.
Conspicuous among the allies of the Trojans were Glaucus and Sarpedon,
the leaders of the Lycians. They were bosom friends, of one heart and
one mind; and the night before they had discoursed earnestly together
on the duties and privileges of their rank. The words of Sarpedon on
this occasion are ever memorable. "I need not tell thee, Glaucus," he
said, "why we twain are honoured above all the rest with the highest
seats, the costliest fare, and cups ever full, and why a fair domain of
corn-land and olive ground and vineyard was set apart for us on the
banks of Xanthus. As we have received freely, so freely must we give,
sparing not even our heart's blood in the service of those to whom we
owe all we have. Let us be no sluggard kings, first in the feast and
last in the fray, but, as we are foremost in privilege, so let us be
foremost in peril. Man walketh as a vain shadow, and all his steps are
encompassed by death; die he must, ere many days are passed--herein he
hath no choice--but, unless he hath the soul of a slave, he will choose
death with honour."
Acting in the spirit of these noble words, Sarpedon, with Glaucus at
his side, and all the chivalry of Lycia at his back, now made a
determined attack on the part of the wall where Menestheus, the captain
of the Athenians, was directing the defence. Menestheus, feeling that
he was ill provided to sustain the onset of these two famous captains,
raised his voice to summon Ajax to his succour; but his cry was drowned
by the tremendous din of the battle which was raging around him, and
the thundering blows which the Trojans were now raining upon the gates.
So he sent an urgent message by a herald, begging Ajax to come to his
relief. Ajax responded promptly to the call, and joined the men under
Menestheus, bringing with him Teucer, his half-brother, who was now
sufficiently recovered from his wound to take part in the defence.
On came the storming party, with Sarpedon at their head, and they were
already beginning to swarm up the battlements, when the arrival of
Teucer and Ajax gave them a check. Lifting up a ponderous stone, which
he found lying loose by the wall, Ajax dashed out the brains of a stout
Lycian, whose knee was already on the rampart, and down he toppled,
plunging headforemost, like a diver, into the moat; and at the same
moment a lucky shot from Teucer's bow struck Glaucus in the arm.
Incensed to see his comrade wounded, Sarpedon redoubled his efforts,
and grasping one of the battlements with both hands he wrenched it from
its place, and sent it crashing to the ground. But, being fiercely
attacked by Ajax and Teucer together, he was compelled to draw back a
little, and wait for support. "On, Lycians!" he shouted. "Why loiter
ye behind? I cannot win the wall alone."
The Lycians rallied to the voice of their prince, and the battle was
renewed with fresh fury on both sides. Up the steep bank they swarmed
again, and strove with all their might to drive back the defenders from
their battlements. But the Greeks would not yield an inch, and
besiegers and besieged held their ground stubbornly in that grim
controversy, like two farmers who stand, with measuring-lines in their
hands, disputing hotly about a few inches of ground, on the boundaries
of their fields--or like an honest labouring woman, who holds the scale
in even balance, weighing the wool which she has spun to win a scanty
wage wherewith to buy her children bread.[1] So in even balance hung
the fray, and many were the wounds given and received in back or in
breast, until the battlements ran with blood.
[1] The yarn is weighed to show that none of the raw wool has been
stolen.
But the chief honour of the day was reserved for Hector, who was the
first to set foot within the fortress of the Greeks. While the battle
was still raging on the wall, he made his way to the main entrance of
the camp, which was defended by stout oaken gates, fast closed with
massy bolt and bar. In front of the gates lay a huge stone, such as
two men could hardly lift in these less heroic days. Lifting the
mighty boulder, he carried it, easily as a shepherd carries a fleece,
close up to the gates. Then, planting his feet firmly, he heaved that
ponderous mass above his head, and flung. Like a thunderbolt flew the
enormous missile, dashing through panel and bolt and bar. The gates,
torn from their hinges, fell inward, and over the ruins sprang Hector,
with brow black as night, and death in his glance. Terribly gleamed
his brazen armour as he leapt upon the foe, with a lance in each hand.
None save the gods could have dared to face him in that hour of triumph
and victory. The Trojans poured in behind him, or leapt down from the
wall, now deserted by the panic-stricken Greeks, who fled with one
accord to the shelter of their ships.