The death of Patroclus

from The Iliad, Book 18 

Meanwhile quick-footed Antilochus, who had been sent as messenger, reached Achilleus, and found him sitting by his tall ships and boding that which was indeed too surely true. ‘Alas,’ said he to himself in the heaviness of his heart, ‘why are the Achaians once more being driven in terror across the plain back to the ships? Heaven grant the gods be not now bringing that sorrow upon me of which my mother Thetis spoke, saying that while I was yet alive the bravest of the Myrmidons should fall before the Trojans, and see the light of the sun no longer. I fear the brave son of Menoitios has fallen through his own daring and yet I bade him return to the ships as soon as he had driven back those that were bringing fire against them, and not join battle with Hektor.’

As he was thus pondering, the son of Nestor came up to him and told his sad tale, weeping bitterly the while. ‘Alas,’ he cried, ‘son of noble Peleus, I bring you bad tidings, would indeed that they were untrue. Patroklus has fallen, and a fight is raging about his naked body- for Hektor holds his armour.’

A dark cloud of grief fell upon Achilleus as he listened. He filled both hands with dust from off the ground, and poured it over his head, disfiguring his handsome face, and letting the black ashes settle over his shirt so fair and new. He flung himself down all huge and hugely at full length, and tore his hair with his hands. The women whom Achilleus and Patroklus had taken captive screamed aloud for grief, beating their breasts, and with their limbs failing them for sorrow. Antilochus bent over him the while, weeping and holding both his hands as he lay groaning for he feared that he might plunge a knife into his own throat. Then Achilleus gave a loud cry and his mother heard him as she was sitting in the depths of the sea by the old man her father, whereon she screamed, and all the goddesses daughters of Nereus that dwelt at the bottom of the sea, came gathering round her. There were Glauke, Thaleia and Kymodoke, Nesaia, Speio, Thoe,  and dark-eyed Halie, Kymothoe, Aktaia and Limnoreia, Melite, Iaira, Amphithoe and Agaue, Doto and Proto, Pherousa and Dynamene, Dexamene, Amphinome and Kallianeira, Doris, Panope, and the famous sea-nymph Galateia, Nemertes, Apseudes and Kallianassa. There were also Klymene, Ianeira and Ianassa, Maira, Oreithyis and Amatheia of the lovely locks, with other Nereids who dwell in the depths of the sea. The crystal cave was filled with their multitude and they all beat their breasts while Thetis led them in their lament.

‘Listen,’ she cried, ‘sisters, daughters of Nereus, that you may hear the burden of my sorrows. Alas, woe is me, woe in that I have borne the most glorious of offspring. I bore him fair and strong, hero among heroes, and he shot up as a sapling; I tended him as a plant in a goodly garden, and sent him with his ships to Ilios to fight the Trojans, but never shall I welcome him back to the house of Peleus. So long as he lives to look upon the light of the sun he is in heaviness, and though I go to him I cannot help him. Nevertheless I will go, that I may see my dear son and learn what sorrow has befallen him though he is still holding aloof from battle.’

She left the cave as she spoke, while the others followed weeping after, and the waves opened a path before them. When they reached the rich plain of Troy, they came up out of the sea in a long line on to the sands, at the place where the ships of the Myrmidons were drawn up in close order round the tents of Achilleus. His mother went up to him as he lay groaning; she laid her hand upon his head and spoke piteously, saying, ‘My son, why are you thus weeping? What sorrow has now befallen you? Tell me; hide it not from me. Surely Zeus has granted you the prayer you made him, when you lifted up your hands and besought him that the Achaians might all of them be pent up at their ships, and rue it bitterly in that you were no longer with them.’

Achilleus groaned and answered, ‘Mother, the Olympian has indeed vouchsafed me the fulfillment of my prayer, but what boots it to me, seeing that my dear comrade Patroklus has fallen- he whom I valued more than all others, and loved as dearly as my own life? I have lost him; aye, and Hektor when he had killed him stripped the wondrous armour, so glorious to behold, which the gods gave to Peleus when they laid you in the couch of a mortal man. Would that you were still dwelling among the immortal sea-nymphs, and that Peleus had taken to himself some mortal bride. For now you shall have grief infinite by reason of the death of that son whom you can never welcome home- nay, I will not live nor go about among mankind unless Hektor fall by my spear, and thus pay me for having slain Patroklus son of Menoitios.’

Thetis wept and answered, ‘Then, my son, is your end near at hand- for your own death awaits you full soon after that of Hektor.’

Then said Achilleus in his great grief, ‘I would die here and now, in that I could not save my comrade. He has fallen far from home, and in his hour of need my hand was not there to help him. What is there for me? Return to my own land I shall not, and I have brought no saving neither to Patroklus nor to my other comrades of whom so many have been slain by mighty Hektor; I stay here by my ships a bootless burden upon the earth, I, who in fight have no peer among the Achaians, though in council there are better than I. Therefore, perish strife both from among gods and men, and anger, wherein even a righteous man will harden his heart- which rises up in the soul of a man like smoke, and the taste thereof is sweeter than drops of honey. Even so has Agamemnon angered me. And yet- so be it, for it is over; I will force my soul into subjection as I needs must; I will go; I will pursue Hektor who has slain him whom I loved so dearly, and will then abide my doom when it may please Zeus and the other gods to send it. Even the mighty Herakles, the best beloved of Zeus- even he could not escape the hand of death, but fate and Hera’s fierce anger laid him low, as I too shall lie when I am dead if a like doom awaits me. Till then I will win fame, and will bid Trojan and Dardanian women wring tears from their tender cheeks with both their hands in the grievousness of their great sorrow; thus shall they know that he who has held aloof so long will hold aloof no longer. Hold me not back, therefore, in the love you bear me, for you shall not move me.’