Jupiter’s Message to Poseidon—The Battle for the Ships
Jupiter awoke and rubbed his eyes. His first glance sought the ships.
How changed was the situation! “Ha, Juno,” he cried angrily, “this is
thy work, deceitful, malicious woman! So that was the meaning of thy
caresses, thy friendliness and sweet talk, false serpent. Of what use is
it to chastise thee? Hast thou already forgotten thy punishment when
thou didst send a storm to drive my son Hercules into imprisonment on
Kos and I made thee swing on a chain twixt heaven and earth with an
anvil fastened to each foot? Suppose that now I were to—”
“Heaven and Earth are my witnesses, and I will even swear it by the
Styx, that Poseidon did not go into the battle at my behest,” said the
affrighted goddess. “I do not know whether the Achaians have persuaded
him to it or his own heart. Rather would I counsel him to go
whithersoever thou commandest.”
The father of gods and men answered, smiling grimly: “If thou wert of my
mind, regal Juno, Poseidon would certainly soon change his course. But
now call Iris quickly and Apollo of the bow, that they may descend and
command Poseidon to leave the battlefield and return to his palace.”
The lily-armed Juno willingly obeyed, though she still meditated
mischief in her heart. She drove quickly to high Olympus, where she
found the immortals in the banquet hall. Craftily she spoke to them. “It
is useless to seek to change Jupiter’s decrees,” she said. “Little he
cares for us, for he feels himself high above us all in strength and
power. Only just now I saw Ascalaphus, the beloved son of mighty Mars,
slain in battle.”
“Do not blame me, ye dwellers in Olympus, if I go to avenge the death of
my son,” wailed Mars; “even though the bolt of the Thunderer strike me
down.” He rushed from the hall and donned his shining armor, appearing
greater and more terrible than ever.
Incalculable mischief would have followed if Athena, concerned for the
rest of the gods, had not hurried after him and taken his helmet,
shield, and lance from him by force. “Imbecile,” she cried, “wouldst
thou destroy us all? Woe unto us if he should see thee, the terrible
Jupiter! Thy son was but a mortal and other noble warriors have fallen;
it is impossible to save them all from death.” With these words she
forced her angry brother back to the throne and he obediently submitted
to her warning.
Apollo and Iris flew quickly down to the green summit of Ida, where
Jupiter sat enveloped in dark clouds. Iris he sent with a stern message
to Poseidon and his beloved son Apollo to Hector to strengthen him with
his divine breath. “Then lead him into the battle once more,” said
Jupiter, “and aid him thyself to drive the Achaians on board their
ships. Take the terrible ægis in thy hand and shake it, that their
hearts may quake.”
Iris delivered her message to the sea god and he answered it defiantly.
“Powerful as he is, I call that tyrannical. To combat my will—mine, who
am his equal! For are not he and Pluto and I brothers, and were not the
upper and under worlds divided equally between us? We cast lots; air
fell to him and water to me, but earth and sky are free to us all, and
he shall not stop me here. Let him rule his consort and his sons and
daughters. What care I for his threats or commands!”
Then Iris said doubtfully: “What, dark-haired World-power! Shall I take
Jupiter thy answer in just those words, or wilt thou not change thy
mind? It is well to keep the peace and respect is always due the elder.”
“Iris, exquisite goddess,” answered the angry king, “thou speakest
sensibly and with reason, but it was righteous anger overcame me, for no
brother should rule another. Now that I come to think it over, I know I
had best obey him. But tell him this—that if, contrary to the wishes of
all the other gods, he protects Ilium’s fortress and gives not the
victory to the Achaians, he may expect our eternal enmity.”
He spoke, left the battlefield, and plunged into the sea. Meanwhile
Apollo had appeared to Hector, saying: “Be comforted, son of Priam, for
Jupiter sends me to save thee. I am Phœbus Apollo, who hath so often
protected thee and thine. Follow me, that we may scatter the Achaians.”
Thus the god encouraged the shepherd of the people, and like a colt
which has broken its halter and gallops after the other horses to the
pasture, he hastened into the battle turmoil. The reappearance of the
hero caused astonishment and consternation among the enemy, and as the
invisible Apollo shook the shield of Jupiter, the mighty ægis, fear and
horror took complete possession of the people, and turning they fled
back to the ships. The battle raged fiercer than before, and many brave
men fell there.
Then Hector called aloud: “The time has come, brave Trojans, to board
the ships. Let all keep together. Let no one tarry to gather booty, and
if one remains behind, he shall die by my own hand.” He urged his horses
across the moat, and the others followed him with exultant cries. When
they reached the ships they paused and prayed aloud to the gods for
victory. A long roll of thunder presaged good fortune, and with
redoubled courage they charged forward. Hector tried to board a vessel,
but in vain. The Achaians, from the deck, thrust back everyone who made
the attempt with their long oars, and where Hector fought there were
always to be found gathered together the bravest warriors. The Trojans,
with their double-edged lances, fought in their chariots, but the
Achaians, from the high decks of their dark vessels, used long,
ironbound oars.
While the battle raged between the wall and the ships Patroclus was
sitting in Eurypylus’ tent nursing his wounded friend. But he dared not
remain long, for fear of arousing Achilles’ anger. He felt that he must
see how his friends were faring, and his heart urged him to persuade
Achilles to come to the rescue of the Achaians at last. He left the tent
and gazed with horror upon the dreadful battleground. He saw Hector rush
forward with a flaming torch and try to fire a ship, but the Achaians
turned aside the fatal missile. Ajax of Salamis stood upon the deck and
thrust down with his lance all who bore a burning brand. Hector aimed
his javelin at him, but it struck Lykophron, who stood beside him. Ajax
then called upon Teucer: “Look, brother, our friend has fallen by
Hector’s hand! Where is thy avenging arrow?”
Teucer hastily climbed up with his bow and with the first arrow struck
Klitus from his chariot. He then selected a second and sharper arrow for
Hector and, as he was quite near to him, would doubtless have pierced
him had the cord of his bow not broken just as he was in the act of
drawing it. “Woe is me!” he cried. “A god brings all our attempts to
naught and must have broken this cord, a newly twisted one, which I put
on this morning.”
Hector had seen the accident, accepted it as a favorable omen, and
cheered on his men. “Let everyone fight with all his might, for the
Olympian Jove is with us. And if ye fall it shall be a glorious death
for the women and children of Troy, and surely the Trojans shall
recompense ye as soon as the Achaians are driven away.”
Where Hector rushed in, the troops huddled together like a herd of sheep
before a wolf. None dared defend himself, but bowed his head in terror,
and trembling, received his deathblow with averted face. The hero’s
fluttering plumes were like a lion’s mane and his eyes flashed fury
under his dark brows. Fear and shame kept the Achaians together. They
continually encouraged one another. Nestor particularly besought the
people to make one last attempt.
Among the Achaian leaders the most notable courage was shown by the
Telamonian Ajax. He ran from one ship to another to encourage the
soldiers, who could scarcely be forced to make another stand. A Trojan
brought Hector a torch, which he threw into the foremost of the deserted
ships. The sight drove the Achaians to desperation. They all rushed
forward to defend the ship and a horrible struggle took place. Battle
axes, swords, and lances hissed through the air and much blood flowed.
Hector clung to the ship and shouted: “Bring up the firebrands! Jupiter
has given us the day and we shall certainly take the ships.” And “fire!
fire!” echoed through the entire army, so that all the Achaians
trembled. Ajax himself could make no headway, but standing on one of the
ships, he threw lance after lance at everyone he saw approaching with
fire. His voice was never silent, but rose continually above the din,
calling to his people: “Friends, keep up your courage and show
yourselves men! Is there any help but in yourselves or is there another
wall behind you? Do ye know of other ships, if these are burned, to
carry you over the sea? Your deliverance depends solely upon
yourselves!”
Fruitless zeal! The rattling spears of the enemy drove them to flight
more convincingly than the voice of the lone leader to the attack. Their
strength was broken.