I
Menelaus was the first to mark the fall of Patroclus, and he came with
a rush and stood over his body to defend it, like a young mother of the
herd when she stands lowing plaintively over her calf, the first that
she has borne. Shield on shoulder and spear in hand he stood, glaring
defiance at the foe; and Euphorbus, the Trojan who had dealt the first
blow at Patroclus, took up the challenge, addressing Menelaus with
these haughty words: "Make way, son of Atreus, and leave me to take my
lawful spoil. 'Twas I that wounded Patroclus first, and his armour
belongs by right to me. Back, or thou shalt die the death."
"If big words could kill," answered Menelaus, with scorn, "then wert
thou and thy brethren the most dreaded warriors of all thy nation; for
there are no such windy braggarts in Priam's army. Away with thee, if
thou wouldst have breath left in thee to boast again."
But Euphorbus, though a boaster, and a mere novice in war, was no
coward. He thrust manfully at Menelaus, who parried the blow with his
shield, and then, striking in his turn, and throwing all his weight
into the stroke, drove his spear into Euphorbus' throat, so that the
point came out at the back of his neck. Down he went, and his armour
clattered upon him, and his love locks, curiously adorned with gold and
silver, were dabbled with blood. As when a man tends carefully a green
olive-shoot, in some sheltered spot, near a gushing fountain-head; and
now it is a comely tree, just bursting into blossom, and lightly rocked
by all the airs of heaven: then comes a sudden tempest, and uproots it
from the soil, and all its promise is marred: so stricken and cut off
in the dawn of his manhood lay that gallant lad. And as a lion comes
down from the mountains, trusting in his might, and strikes down a
young heifer feeding in a meadow, the fairest of the herd, breaking her
neck with his mighty teeth, and then glutting himself with her blood
and her flesh; and the herdsmen with their hounds stand apart, making
great uproar, but not one dares to interrupt him in his meal: so dared
not one of the Trojans to stand against Menelaus face to face.
Hector, who after slaying Patroclus had gone off in pursuit of the car
of Achilles, was recalled from that fruitless chase by the tidings of
Euphorbus' death. With a loud cry of rage he turned back, and hastened
to the place where the young Trojan lay, side by side with Patroclus.
Menelaus stayed not to abide his coming, but fell back upon the ranks
of his comrades, and there halted, and scanned the fighting line,
looking for the great Telamonian Ajax. Observing him at last on the
extreme left of the battle, he ran up to him, crying eagerly: "Make
haste, Ajax, and aid me to recover the body of Patroclus, that we may
carry it back, naked as it is, to Achilles; for the armour Hector has
taken already."
So together they went, and stood side by side over the body of
Patroclus; and Hector in his turn shrank back, when he was confronted
by the towering form of Ajax, with his massive, sevenfold shield. But
he took with him the armour, and gave it to two of his men to carry to
the city.
Glaucus was full of anger when he saw Hector quail before Ajax, and he
reproached him bitterly, calling him faint-hearted, and false to his
great office. "It is a thankless task," he said, "to fight under such
a leader. Henceforth let the Trojans make shift to defend their city
without our aid, for we of Lycia at least will fight their battles no
more. Basely hast thou dealt with us, after all our good service,
leaving our great captain Sarpedon in the hands of the Greeks. If ye
of Troy had the spirit of men, ye would aid us to capture the body of
Patroclus, that we might keep it to exchange for Sarpedon's corpse.
But thou art a prudent warrior, and fearest the face of Ajax, knowing
him to be a far better man than thou art."
"O folly of the wise!" answered Hector scornfully. "'Tis Glaucus can
talk thus, who hath the rarest wit, as we are told, among all the men
of Lycia. Come and stand by me, and thou shall see if I fear the face
of Ajax, or any other Greek. But first I will put on the armour of
Achilles, which was given, men say, by the gods, as a wedding gift to
his father Peleus." And with that he ran and overtook the men who were
carrying the spoils of Patroclus towards the city, and taking off his
own armour began to put on that of Achilles.
[Illustration: Homer hymning the Fall of Troy. (Baron H. de Triqueti)]
When Zeus beheld him thus gaily equipping himself in the spoils of the
mighty, he shook his head, and spake thus to his own heart: "Ah!
wretch, thy triumph will be short lived, and the hand of doom is
stretched out already to take thee. But thou shall have thine hour,
and Andromache shall hear of thy deeds, though never more shall she
welcome thee returning from battle."
He said it, and confirmed it with a nod, and forthwith the very demon
of war entered into the heart of Hector, and with a fierce cry he ran
back to the field, glittering in the armour of Pelides, which seemed to
have been wrought for himself, so well it fitted his limbs.
Even the great Ajax felt a cold touch of fear as Hector bore down upon
him, with the most famous warriors of Troy and Lycia at his back. "We
are lost," he said to Menelaus, "unless we can get some other succour
to beat back this tempest of war." Then, raising his voice, he
shouted: "To the rescue, ye captains and princes of the Greeks! Let
not Patroclus become a prey to dogs in the streets of Troy." His cry
was heard, and soon he was joined by Idomeneus, and Meriones, and the
lesser Ajax.
Like the roar of the advancing tide, when it meets the torrent waters
at the mouth of the mighty river, such was the shout of the Trojans as
they rushed to the onset. And the Greeks stood firm to meet them,
making a fence with their shields over the body of Patroclus. At the
first shock of that tremendous charge they were forced to give ground a
little, and one of the Trojans fastened a thong to the ankle of the
corpse, and began to drag it away. But he had not gone far when Ajax
sprang upon him, and with one blow of his sword shivered his helmet,
and clave him to the chin. This gave time for the Greeks to rally, and
the battle was renewed in that narrow space round the body of
Patroclus, where many a valiant deed was wrought, and many a hero bit
the dust, fighting for the possession of a helpless corpse. Over this
struggling mass of warriors in the centre of the field was spread a
thick curtain of darkness, for Zeus had ordered it so, while the rest
of the Greeks and Trojans were fighting in the broad sunlight. Far
away on the border of the fight were Antilochus, the son of Nestor, and
his brother, who had not yet heard that Patroclus had been slain.
But in that dark kernel of the battle the ruthless tug of war went on.
There was no stay, no pause, while they hewed, and thrust, and strove,
till the blinding sweat poured down into their eyes, and their knees
shook with weariness. As when a master currier gives to his journeymen
a great bull's hide, well drenched with fat, to be stretched, and they
stand in a circle, and tug with all their might, straining it equally
on all sides, until all moisture departs from it, and the fat
penetrates to every pore; so they tugged the body between them, this
way and that, the Trojans haling it towards the city, and the Greeks
towards their camp. "Die, ye Greeks!" cried Ajax, who was fighting
like twenty men; "die, rather than give up the body to the Trojans."