The Greeks are Successful—Hector Hastens to the City—Glaucus and
Diomedes, Hector and Andromache
The day was declining, but once more the Achaians pressed forward with
renewed courage, knowing that Mars was no longer on the field. The
Trojans gave way before them, and soon they were near enough to see
again the elders and the women upon the city walls. Hector and Æneas did
their best to spur the soldiers to resistance, but without avail. Then
Helenus, one of Priam’s sons, who had the gift of prophecy, spake unto
Hector: “Dear brother, do thou and Æneas try once more to encourage the
people. Then go and leave the battle to us. Hasten into the city. Tell
our mother quickly to summon the noble women of the city to Athena’s
sacred temple and there to lay her most costly garment in the lap of the
goddess. Furthermore she shall promise to sacrifice twelve yearling
calves upon Athena’s altar, if she will repulse that terrible warrior,
Tydeus’ son.”
Hector carried out his brother’s bidding and while he was away the
Achaians regained the supremacy. Nestor went busily about admonishing
them not to waste any time in collecting booty, but only to kill, kill,
kill. Afterward, he said, there would be plenty of time to strip the
accoutrements from the slain. Diomedes the insatiable, panting still for
fresh conquests, espied a man among the Trojans whom he had never seen
before, but who appeared by his rich armor, his stature, and commanding
mien to be one of the leaders. When they had approached each other
within a spear’s cast, they both reined in their steeds and Diomedes
cried out to the enemy: “Who art thou, excellent sir? I have not seen
thee before, although thou seemest to be a practised warrior. Art thou
some god? Then would I not contend with thee, for such rashness hath
ever brought misfortune to a mortal. But if thou art a man like myself,
advance, that thou mayest quickly meet thy doom.”
It was Glaucus, Hippolochus’ son, who answered: “Oh son of Tydeus, dost
thou ask who I am? The children of men are like the leaves of the
forest, blown about by the winds and budding anew when Spring
approaches. One flourishes and another fades. My race is a glorious one.
It sprang from the Argive land and my ancestors ruled the city of
Ephyra. Anolus was the founder of my family; Sisyphus, his son, was that
wise king whose son was Glaucus; his son in turn the glorious
Bellerophon, endowed by the gods with superhuman beauty and strength.
Who has not heard of his heroic deeds? He slew Chimæra, the creature
with a lion’s head, a dragon’s tail, and body of a goat—a savage,
ravening monster. Next he conquered the king’s hostile neighbors,
gaining every battle. The king gave him his beautiful daughter and half
of his kingdom. His two sons were Isander and Hippolochus, who is my
father. He sent me hither to Troy and admonished me to excel all others
and never to disgrace my ancestors.”
Diomedes planted his spear in the sand, crying joyfully: “Then thou art
my friend for old times’ sake. My grandfather Œneus entertained the
glorious Bellerophon in his house for twenty days, and on his departure
they exchanged gifts in token of friendship. Œneus’ gift was a purple
girdle and Bellerophon’s a golden goblet, which I have in my possession
and often admire. Therefore thou shalt be my guest in Argos and I thine,
if I should ever visit Lycia. So let us avoid each other in the battle.
There remain enough Trojans for me and enough Achaians for thee to kill.
But as a pledge of the agreement let us exchange armor that it may be
seen that we are friends of old standing.” They descended from their
chariots, shook hands cordially, and took off their armor. Glaucus got
the worst of the bargain, for his breastplate and shield were of gold,
while those of Diomedes were only of brass. However, he gave them up
gladly. They then renewed their vows of friendship and drove rapidly
away in opposite directions.
When Hector reached the Scæan gate he was surrounded by Trojan women
inquiring for their sons, brothers, and husbands, but he could not stay
to comfort them and hastened away to his father’s palace, where he
sought out his venerable mother, Hecuba. “Dear son,” she began, “why
hast thou deserted the battlefield to come hither? The cruel Achaians
are pressing us hard. But tarry until I bring thee good wine, that thou
mayest make an offering to the gods and then refresh thyself; for wine
giveth strength to a weary man.”
“Not so, mother,” answered Hector. “Befouled as I am, how can I
sacrifice to the gods? Not for this did I come hither, but to bring thee
a message from Helenus.” Then he repeated his brother’s instructions and
Hecuba hastened to obey them.
Hector meanwhile made his way to the handsome palace of Paris, where he
found his brother turning over and examining his weapons. Helen sat by
the fireside among her maidens, occupied with domestic tasks. “Strange
man!” said Hector. “I cannot understand thy conduct. The people are
melting away before the walls and this bloody battle is chiefly on thine
account. Thou wert always bitter against the slothful and hast ever
encouraged others to fight. Come, let us go, before the city is fired by
the enemy.”
“Gladly will I follow thee, brother,” answered Paris. “Thy reproaches
are just. I have been brooding upon my misfortune, but my wife has just
persuaded me to return to the field, and I am ready. Tarry a while until
I have put on my armor or else go and I will follow thee.”
“Dear Hector,” spake gracious Helen sadly, “how it grieves me to see you
all engaged in this cruel war, for the sake of a contemptible woman like
myself. O that I had been destroyed at birth or had been flung into the
sea! Or, if the gods have destined me to such misfortune, would at least
that I had fallen into the hands of a brave man, who would take the
disgrace and reproaches of his family to heart and could wipe out his
shame by heroic deeds. But Paris is not a man. Enter and be seated,
Hector, for thou has toiled most arduously in my behalf and suffered
most for thy brother’s crime.”
“Thy gracious invitation I may not accept,” answered Hector, “for my
heart urges me to return to aid the Trojans. I beg thee persuade Paris
to overtake me before I leave the city. Now I must go to my own house to
see my wife once more and little son; for who knoweth whether I shall
ever return?”
He did not find his spouse at home, but on the tower at the Scæan gate,
where she was following the fate of the Trojans. As he neared the gate
she came to meet him, the modest, sensible Andromache, and behind her
came the nurse with the little boy. His loving wife took him tenderly by
the hand and wept over him. “Thy courage will surely be thy death,” she
said. “Take pity on thy miserable wife and infant son, for the Achaians
will surely kill thee, and then I had best sink into the earth; for what
would remain for me? I am alone. Hector, thou art father and mother and
brother to me, my precious husband. Take pity on me and remain in the
tower. Do not make me a widow and thy son an orphan.”
Hector answered: “Dearly beloved, I am troubled also at thy fate, but I
could not face the Trojan people if I shunned danger like a coward.
True, I foresee the day when sacred Ilium will fall, bringing disaster
upon the king and all the people, and thy fate touches me more nearly
than that of father, mother, or brothers. Thou mayest be carried away to
slavery in Argos to labor for a cruel mistress. Rather would I be in the
grave than see thee in misery.”
Sadly the hero stretched out his arms to his boy, but the child hid his
face in the nurse’s bosom, terrified at the helmet with its fluttering
plumes. Smiling, the father took it off and laid it on the ground, and
now the boy went to him willingly. He kissed the child tenderly, and
turning his eyes heavenward prayed fervently; “Jupiter and ye other
gods, grant that my boy may be a leader among the Trojans like his
father and powerful in Ilium, that sometime it may be said: ‘He is much
greater than his father.’ May his mother rejoice in him.”
As he placed the child in its mother’s arms, she smiled through her
tears. “Poor wife,” he said, caressing her, “do not grieve too much. I
shall not be sent to Hades unless it is my fate—no one can escape his
destiny, be he high or low. Do thou attend to thine affairs at home and
keep thy maidens busily at work. Men are made for war, and I most of
all.” He picked up his helmet and hurried away. Andromache went also,
but often turned to gaze after her dear husband.
Paris overtook his brother at the gate. “Do not be angry, brother, at my
tardiness,” he said. “My good fellow,” answered Hector, “thou art a
brave warrior, but often indifferent. I cannot bear the scornful gossip
of the people who are enduring so much for thy sake. But we will talk of
this another time—perhaps when we shall make a thankoffering for the
defeat of the Achaians.” Thus speaking they hastened towards the
battlefield.