The Judgement of Paris

It is a curious thing how great the influence of one person can be on the course of history. Though they may not know it at the time, one person truly can make all the difference. The Trojan War, the most iconic of its kind in history, which forever bound the great civilisations of the West, and whose heroes are spoken of in awe even today, began because of one such person. But the War (whose story begins here) found its origins in the most unlikely of places...

The Marriage of Thetis and Peleus
Painting by Hendrick de Clerck

One day, far distant in the mists of time, high on the peaks of Mount Ida, there was great jubilation. It was a joyful day, for it saw the wedding of the nymph Thetis to Peleus, a marriage which held the blessings of the gods of Olympus. Great would be their progeny indeed, for one day their union would give birth to the mightiest of champions - Achilles, whose name the world would ever after speak of in reverence. Men, nymphs, gods, goddesses and all manner of magical creatures came from far and wide to celebrate, bearing a dazzling array of gifts to honour the happy day. Even Ares, lord of war, and Artemis, chaste maiden of the hunt, were to be seen in the great ensemble. All were euphoric, the skies rang to the sound of music, and not a sad face was to be seen amid the revelry. All, that was, except for one. For, skulking in the shadows, was the only being who had not received an invitation. Looking on in cold fury at her rejection, Eris, the goddess of discord, whose evil ways had ever left her shunned amid the spirits of the world, conspired to take her revenge, and bring cruel chaos down upon the scene before her now. As she circled in the shade of the trees, she cast her thoughts to how she could bring her malevolent influence to bear. Perhaps she could spread foul rumours amongst the guests? Poison the minds of the many against their gracious hosts? Openly denounce the bridal pair? There was a dark moment, when her rage waxed grave indeed, when she considered, for one brief moment, going to the very depths of the world, to the deepest part of the Underworld, and breaking asunder the Gates of Tartarus, and so releasing the Titans from their infernal bonds, to be unleashed once more upon the world. It was a fortunate thing indeed, that her fear was too great to carry out this dark deed. Instead, her thoughts turned to discord, that thing at which she was adept at spreading above all others.

Taking a Golden Apple from the Garden of the Hesperides (of the very same tree which Heracles had once ventured to, for the story, please click here), the vengeful goddess inscribed upon it "For the fairest". Never before or again would one sentence bring such ruinous calamity upon the world. Eris, proud of her stratagem, took careful aim, hurling the fruit into the midst of the dancing goddesses. All were amazed at the shining seed now before them, but none more so than three of the greatest goddesses - Hera, Queen of the gods, Athena, goddess of wisdom and war and Aphrodite, goddess of lust. From the moment they set eyes upon it, each goddess claimed the Apple for their own. As discord and argument soon spread as to who should rightfully bear the fruit, the three goddesses turned to Zeus, King of all the gods, to judge himself. Knowing well the undying wrath he would earn from the two he did not choose, the Thunderer wisely refused. To a mortal man should fall this mighty burden, the god ruled, as he thought to himself who this soul could be.

There was, not far away on the slopes of Mount Ida, a young man tending his flocks as a faithful shepherd. But this man was no ordinary shepherd. Named Paris, he was an exile of royal blood, cast out of his homeland whilst still a baby. For long ago, the boy's mother, Queen Hecuba of the royal house of Troy, had experienced a terrible nightmare. Just before her son's birth, she saw a vision that she would give birth to a flaming torch. When she awoke with a start, she confided in her husband, King Priam. Priam decided to consult an Oracle as to what this strange portent could mean. The seer Aesacus, when the royal couple retold their worries to him, was gripped with anguish. The child that the Queen would soon bear, the prophet declared, would be the ruin of Troy. The seer urged them to kill the child as soon as it was born, and save Troy from her doom. The day came, however, when Paris entered the world, and from the moment Hecuba and Priam looked upon him, they could bring no harm upon their own flesh and blood. Despairing, Priam handed the child over to Agelaus, his chief herdsmen, to take him away. The shepherd took the young Paris far from Troy's towering heights, but as a he too looked upon the baby, he found that he could not bring himself to slay a child. Vowing to raise the child as his own, he took Paris into his care, where the two lived happily, with a simple life upon the slopes of Mount Ida. It was to Paris that the goddesses of Olympus came now, forever to change his destiny, and that of the world.

The Judgement of Paris
Painting by Rubens

It was with great fear that Paris beheld the sight of Hermes, messenger of the gods, bearing down upon him on that fateful day. " Fling away thy milking-pail and leave thy fair flocks and come hither and give decision as judge of the goddesses of heaven. Come hither and decide which is the more excellent beauty of face, and to the fairer give this apple’s lovely fruit ", the swift footed god declared. Paris stood, transfixed, hardly daring to question, even less refuse the command of Olympus. In a flash of blazing glory, the three goddesses appeared suddenly before him, in all their divine majesty. One by one, the goddesses approached, Athena, lady of war and wisdom first:

          " Come hither, son of Priam! leave the spouse of Zeus and heed not Aphrodite,
            queen of the bridal bower, but praise thou Athena who aids the prowess of men.
            They say that thou art a king and keepest the city of Troy. Come hither,
            and I will make thee the saviour of their city to men hard pressed:
            lest ever Enyo of grievous wrath weigh heavily upon thee.
            Hearken to me and I will teach thee war and prowess! "

Then came Hera, regal mistress of Olympus:

         " If thou wilt elect me and bestow on me the fruit of the fairer,
           I will make thee lord of all mine Asia. Scorn thou the works of battle.
           What has a king to do with war? A prince gives command both to the valiant
           and to the unwarlike. Not always are the squires of Athena foremost.
           Swift is the doom and death of the servants of Enyo! "

Finally, there stood Aphrodite, folly of all men, who simply looked Paris in the eyes, smiling, as she began to speak:

      " Accept me and forget wars: take my beauty and leave the sceptre
         and the land of Asia. I know not the works of battle.
         What has Aphrodite to do with shields? By beauty much more do women excel.
         In place of manly prowess I will give thee a lovely bride, and, instead of kingship,
         enter thou the bed of Helen. Lacedaemon, after Troy, shall see thee a bridegroom! "

Helen
Painting by Evelyn de Morgan

Little did Paris, or the other deities assembled know, that Aphrodite wore a girdle infused with a powerful enchantment. No man which looked upon its wearer could resist base temptation. Still did the words flow from Aphrodite as the son of Priam already offered the Apple to her. Triumphant, Aphrodite raised her glittering prize, mocking her competitors mercilessly. Athena was angered, but it was nothing compared with the fury of Hera. For from this moment the House of Troy and all her descendants had made an eternal enemy of the goddess, and her curse would plague the destiny of the Trojan race. Aphrodite turned to Paris, placing her blessing upon him, declaring that he had the heart of the most beautiful woman in the world. Her name was Helen. With this promise, the goddesses departed, leaving Paris severely shaken. All he could think of now was Helen, far away in the distant lands of Greece. Unable to turn his thoughts anywhere but to her, he resolved to seek her out. Little could he know now the whole world of pain that this decision would unleash...




United Kingdom

Colluthus:
Oppian. Colluthus. Tryphiodorus (Loeb Classical Library)
(The most poetic, and best preserved form of the story)

Colluthus:
http://www.theoi.com/Text/Colluthus.html
(A sample available to read online)

United States

Colluthus:
Oppian, Colluthus, Tryphiodorus (Loeb Classical Library No. 219)
(The most poetic, and best preserved form of the story)

Colluthus:
http://www.theoi.com/Text/Colluthus.html
(A sample available to read online)

The Cyclops

After the most grueling siege in history, after ten long years Troy fell to the Greek armies. Some of the greatest heroes ever born had fought and died on both sides, Olympus was divided and the world would never be the same again. But the ordeal of many of the Greek heroes was far from over. Indeed for one man above all others, it had only just begun...

Odysseus
Second Century Greek Sculpture, housed
in the Villa of the Roman Emperor Tiberius
at Sperlonga

Cunning Odysseus, King of Ithaca and sacker of cities, was the man who won the Trojan War. Renowned the world over for his sagacity and brilliant mind, it had been he who had masterminded the stratagem of the Wooden Horse, a deception famous the world over even today. But now, nearly ten years after the Trojan citadel burned, a weary and despairing man sat before King Alcinous of Phaeacia. The Phaeacians had been most intrigued when a strange and ragged looking man had been washed up on their shores, but Alcinous was a kindly man, and entertained the stranger in his palace. That night, at the banquet, the court bard struck up a song, a song which rang with the deeds of those famous men at Troy so long ago now. The gathered crowd cheered as the song turned to the valiant heroism of those who fought inside Troy's walls as the city fell to its knees, most of all proud Odysseus, blessed by Athena. At the sound of the bard's song, the memories welled up afresh in the stranger's mind, and choked with emotion, tears fell from his eyes. Seeing his distress, Alcinous bade the bard fall silent, and prayed the stranger to reveal his as yet unknown name, and what force had brought him here. Realising he could remain anonymous no longer, the stranger replied "Where shall I begin, where end, my tale? For the list of woes which the gods in Heaven have sent me is a long one... I am Odysseus, Laertes' son. The whole world talks of my stratagems, and my fame has reached the Heavens...". The room fell silent. All were entranced by the hero's words, stunned and saddened at his melancholy. So, with a heavy heart, Odysseus began his mighty tale.

Ten long years ago, Odysseus and his men departed Trojan shores, desperate to see beloved Ithaca again. The journey should have been quick and easy, but little could they have known that it would be as arduous and perilous as the War had ever been. For the gathered Greek Kings had made sacrifices to the gods on the shores of Troy, giving praise for their triumph. But the rituals were in vain. For the Greek soldiers had desecrated the holy places within Troy when they stormed the city, burning her temples and slaughtering her priests. In their rage, the gods decreed a terrible retribution upon the Greeks...

Odysseus rescues his men from the Lotus Eaters
Engraver unknown

Odysseus' ships made landfall in the land of the Cicones, a vicious and warlike tribe who despised all foreign men. The Ithacans sacked their citadels, eager for plunder to take home for their families as they were. But the Cicones struck back, and many were killed in the ensuing slaughter. Rallying his men, Odysseus sounded their retreat, as they continued South on their journey home. Zeus the Thunderer, however, gathered the storm clouds and unleashed a tempest upon the sea, and for nine days the Greek ships were blasted across the Mediterranean, coming to the strange land. Odysseus sent two men to investigate the local tribe, and determine if they were hostile. The locals, however, were not violent at all, on the contrary they gave Odysseus' men lotus fruit to eat. As soon as the sweet, luscious fruit touched their lips, however, the men lost all thought of home and the worries of the world. All they desired was to remain here and feast on the Lotus flower for ever more. With a great struggle did Odysseus drag his men back to the ships, urgently making for distant shores, lest his whole crew fall victim to the dangerous fruit.

Home seemed more distant than ever when, sometime later, the ships chanced upon a dense fog which descended upon them, shrouding the moonlight. So dark was the night that the ships ran aground upon a peculiar island, not a large land, but a bountiful one. Lush and verdant, this island was teeming with life, and the weary crew dined well on the plentiful goat population of the island. For the first time in many long months, Odysseus and his men enjoyed a peaceful sleep. When Dawn arrived, and the light hit Odysseus' eyes, he awoke to the beauty of the island. Across the strait, however, there was a land that night had veiled. A wild and mountainous sight it was too, in the shadow of a towering volcano - Mount Etna. When the ships were filled to bursting with supplies, curious Odysseus picked his best ship's crew, and together they set sail across the strait, inquisitive as to the local peoples and their ways. Odysseus ordered gifts to be brought, in the form of wine taken from the groves sacred to Apollo, a wine fit for Olympus itself, such was the floral aroma that rose from it. A fitting present for the local leader who, Odysseus hoped, might grant hospitality to his men in return. How very wrong he would be.

The Sack of Troy
Painting by Johan Georg Trautmann

Making landfall upon the beach, Odysseus noticed high up on the slopes an enormous cavern. Fighting an ominous sense of foreboding, the King and his twelve finest warriors scaled the cliff and gazed within the towering entrance. The sight that waited there so amazed them that all thoughts of doubt left their minds. Baskets of the most luxurious cheeses towered high, pails full to the brim with milk and pens laden with the finest lambs all stretched before them. His comrades begged him to let them take some and swiftly make their flight. How much better if would have been for them all if they had, Odysseus mournfully confessed to the Phaeacian King, but alas that hindsight was not theirs, as the hero continued his tale. Odysseus forbade his men to steal from the cave, and was at any rate keen to meet the owner of these splendid things.  Lighting a fire, the Greeks settled down, guessing the owner to be out tending his flocks during the day, as they wondered what gifts their host might present them with. Some hours later, the herds came into their cave, their shepherd close behind. At last, the owner had come. But it was no native tribesman or leader of men. With a titanic crash the Greeks awoke with a start, some might have thought that they had been roused to a nightmare. An enormous pile of logs and fallen to the cavern floor, and the being who had dropped them stood not far behind. A towering giant, mightier in stature than any building raised by the hands of men, stood framed by the mouth of the cave. So feeble were they aside such a vast being, the Greeks had avoided the gaze of the giant's single and enormous eye. With a ripple of terror, Odysseus and his men shrank into the shadows, making not a sound. The Cyclops rolled an enormous boulder into the cave's entrance as some crude door, before turning to drive his flock deeper into the cave. After methodically milking his ewes, the Cyclops lit his fire, and with the orange glow, Odysseus' cover was blown. "Strangers!" the giant roared, "and who are you!"


            " Our hearts sank. The booming voice and the very sight
              of the monster filled us with panic..."
                                          - ODYSSEUS RECOUNTS MEETING THE CYCLOPS


Their courage faltering, the Greeks turned to their King, who boldly replied that they were Achaeans, returning from Troy, once proud subjects of King Agamemnon. Some god had lead them astray on their path home, and they were now suppliants before him. Odysseus reminded the Cyclops of his duty towards guests, for Zeus decreed the honour that bound a host to his guest. The pitiless Cyclops replied that the Cyclopes were no god fearing people, and that he cared nothing for Zeus or the Olympians, since his own strength was a match for they. Nevertheless, the giant demanded to know where Odysseus had moored his ship. Sensing danger for his men still down on the ships, cunning Odysseus replied that Poseidon had smashed up his ships and that they were stranded here. The cruel Cyclops made no reply, but triumphantly dived upon them. Seizing two of Odysseus' men, he dashed their heads against the cold, stone floor. Tearing them limb from limb, he devoured them, as the Greeks shouted in terror, weeping as they raised their hands to Heaven, begging Zeus for help. Taking a gulp of milk to wash down his ghastly meal, the Cyclops settled down into a sleep.

Odysseus blinds Polyphemus
Painting by Pellegrino Tibaldi

Odysseus's first impulse was to draw his blade and slay the giant there and then, but wisdom prevailed. No man could move the vast boulder at the cave's door, and simply kill him would seal all their fates. Stricken groans came from his men, but Odysseus soothed them with his words, as they braced for morning. Dawn came once more, as the giant awoke. After slowly milking his ewes once more, he grabbed two more brave Greeks. Odysseus looked helplessly on at their grisly fate, crying with frustration. As the Cyclops left for the day to tend his flocks, however, Odysseus noticed that he had left his staff behind. If a staff it was, for to human eyes it was more like the mast of some great ship, such was its size. Forming a plan, he drew his sword and began to whittle the staff, sharpening it to a point. Thrusting the point into the fire, so as to harden it in the flames, the men drew lots to see who would have the brave task of helping Odysseus wield it. Just then the goats returned to the cave. With seconds to spare, Odysseus hid the point under a pile of dung, of which there was a great deal in the cave. Evening fell, and after milking his ewes once more, the Cyclops snatched two more of Odysseus' comrades and gobbled them down. Steeling his nerves for not the first, or the last, time, Odysseus beckoned to his men to pass him the wine he had brought. Approaching the fierce giant, Odysseus flattered him, offering him a gift of wine in the hope of pity. The Cyclops took the wine and drank deeply from it, as the intoxicating perfumes from it rose to his nostrils. The wine gave him such joy that he immediately demanded more, and the Odysseus' name, promising him a gift in return. Three times Odysseus refilled the bowl, and three times the Cyclops drained it to the last. Seeing the wine do its work on the giant's wits, Odysseus addressed him once more, "My name is Nobody. That is what I am called by my mother and father and by all my friends". Looking hopefully for his gift, Odysseus looked the giant in his monstrous eye. The heartless being answered, "of all his company I will eat Nobody last, and the rest before him. That shall be your gift". Barely had the word "gift" been uttered, when the Cyclops keeled over into a drunken stupor, vomiting forth a stream of wine and torn human flesh from his gullet.

Odysseus' Escape
Painting by Jacob Jordaens

Seizing their chance, Odysseus and his men thrust the staff into the glowing fire, and soon the tip was burning hot. Whispering encouragements to his men, Odysseus drove the stake into the Cyclops eye, twisting it with all his might. The heat singed the giant's brow, and the blood bubbled around the wound as his eye hissed furiously. The Cyclops let out a deafening shriek of agony, a shout which rang across the mountains, as the Greeks recoiled again, their nerve buckling. Such was the din, other Cyclopes soon crowded around the sealed entrance to the cave, demanding to know the cause for this disturbance. "What on earth is wrong with you Polyphemus?" they called from the night. "O my friends, it is Nobody's treachery that is doing me to death", Polyphemus shouted back. Confused, the Cyclopes replied "well, if you are alone and nobody is assaulting you, you must be sick", and off they went. Odysseus laughed to himself at the brilliance of his plan, but they had little time to waste. Groaning in pain, Polyphemus rolled aside the boulder at the door of the cave, and groped feebly, hoping to catch Odysseus or his comrades as they fled. Thinking quickly, Odysseus ordered his men to lash together the sheep in threes, using willow twigs from Polyphemus' enormous bed. For himself, Odysseus chose the most robust ram and, clinging tightly on, swung underneath it. As soon as Dawn arrived, the flock made for the pastures on the mountainside. Their master, however, still in blinding pain, ran his fingers along to tops of their fleeces as they passed through the mouth of the cave, for it did not occur to the Cyclops that men would hang beneath. Soon only the great ram remained. As the giant's hands recognised his favourite of the flock, he moaned "Sweet ram, why are you the last of the flock to pass out og the cave like this? You have never before lagged behind the others..." Odysseus felt a sudden pang of fear. "You must be grieved for your master's eye", Polyphemus mournfully concluded, and Odysseus breathed a sigh of relief. Releasing the ram, Polyphemus sat as the flock stepped into the fresh air once more. With many backward glances, Odysseus and his crew detached themselves and sprinted for the shore.

The Rage of Polyphemus
Painting by Annibale Carracci

Reaching the ship as fast as they could, Odysseus and his men were greeted with cries of joy, soon followed by lamentations at those lost. With urgent gestures, Odysseus beckoned them to silently load the flock on board and make their escape. As the oar blades struck the surf, Odysseus could not resist. Shouting in defiance, he taunted Polyphemus, "Cyclops! So he was not such a weakling after all, the man whose friends you meant to overpower and eat in your hollow cave! And your crimes were bound to catch up with you, you brute, who did not shrink from devouring your guests. Now Zeus and the other gods have paid you out!" Polyphemus felt a stab of rage. With a roar he tore off the pinnacle of the mountains and hurled it in the direction of Odysseus' voice. Soaring through the air, the rock struck the sea just ahead of the ship, but the resulting wave drove the Greeks back to shore. Seizing a pole, Odysseus pushed them off, frantically urging the crew to row for their lives. The will to shout more abuse took hold once again, as his men tried to restrain him. But anger and frustration was welling up in Odysseus too, frustration that home was no closer, frustration at his helplessness to save the lives of his men. His men begged him to stop, lest they all die. But Odysseus was not to be restrained, and shouted something he would later rue.


            "Cyclops, if anyone ever asks you how you came by your blindness, tell him
              your eye was put out by Odysseus, sacker of cities,
              the son of Laertes, who lives in Ithaca!"
                                       - ODYSSEUS TAUNTS POLYPHEMUS

Polyphemus stopped. He remembered an ancient prophecy told amongst the Cyclopes, a prophecy that foretold that he would be robbed of his sight by a man called Odysseus. In return, the Cyclops called to Odysseus, bidding him return, so that he might present him with gifts to speed him on his journey, for his father was none other than Poseidon, the god of the sea himself. Fatally disbelieving, Odysseus angrily retorted "I only wish I could make as sure of robbing you of life and breath and sending you to Hell, as I certain that not even the Earthshaker will ever heal your eye!" As this, Polyphemus kneeled in prayer. Beseeching the skies, he called to his father, laying a curse on Odysseus and his men:


        "Grant that Odysseus, sacker of cities and son of Laertes, may never reach his home
          in Ithaca. But if he is destined to see his friends again, to come once more
          to his own house and reach his native land, let him come late, in wretched plight,
          having lost all his comrades, in a foreign ship, and let him find trouble in his home"
                                        - THE CYCLOP'S CURSE


Polyphemus prayed, and Lord Poseidon heard his prayer. Rising to his feet, with all his might, Polyphemus seized a boulder, mightier by far than the first, and with a roar hurled it towards Odysseus' proud words. Falling through the sky, the rock scraped the rear of the ship, but missed, though the resulting tidal wave propelled the Greeks to foreign shores. Odysseus and his men were overjoyed. Little did they know, as Odysseus later told King Alcinous in Phaeacia, what a world of pain the Cyclops had now unleashed upon them. For in his lair they had had a giant as a foe. Now they had a long ocean voyage home, and now they had the god of the sea himself as a foe...

United Kingdom

Penguin Classics:
The Odyssey (Penguin Classics)
(A version which keeps a dash of the original poetry, good if you like a balance between high poetry and readability)

Oxford World's Classics:
The Odyssey (Oxford World's Classics)
(An excellent choice if you want to read the Odyssey for it's story over it's poetry)

United States

Penguin Classics:
The Odyssey (Penguin Classics)
(A version which keeps a dash of the original poetry, good if you like a balance between high poetry and readability)

Oxford World's Classics:
The Odyssey (Oxford World's Classics)
(An excellent choice if you want to read the Odyssey for it's story over it's poetry)  

Hector and Achilles

We return today to the thick of the action, as the Trojan War reaches its climactic showdown, culminating in the most legendary confrontation in history - the duel of Hector and Achilles. The end was coming. For ten long years Greeks and Trojans have fallen in their tens and their thousands. For ten long years the mightiest heroes have been hurled to the House of Death. For ten long years strong walled Troy has weathered the storm, Prince Hector standing valiantly between the endless ranks of Greece and the city itself...

Andromache bids farewell to Hector
Painting by Anton Pavlovich Losenko

But the tide has turned, with the slaying of Patroclus, Achilles' own cousin, Hector had sealed the Fates. Now, Greek hordes pour across the great plain of Troy, a lone figure far in front, driven mad with rage. The goddess Athena herself at his side, Achilles thunders across the plain, with Trojan battalion and Trojan god alike blasted from his path. The war has divided even great Olympus itself, with gods and goddesses torn in their loyalties, with many of their own children fighting on both sides. But now not even Ares, the god of war himself, can stand in the way of Fate. Hurling a vast boulder at the god, Athena brings murderous Ares crashing to the ground, Troy's greatest ally at last lying broken in the dust. His glittering form, bearing the armour forged by Hephaestus (for this story, please click here), god of fire and the forge himself, Achilles has no mercy for the sons of Troy, as their blood spatters his magnificent cuirass. Trojans flee in blind terror before the onslaught, desperately seeking the safety of the city, with but one man, Prince Hector, boldly facing down the coming doom. High on Troy's unbreakable walls and wizened with age, King Priam eyes the chaos of the field in despair. Calling his people back inside the walls with urgency, he sees another proud son of Troy rush to confront the carnage. Brave Agenor, another noble soul, incensed at the reversal of Troy's fortune, charges Achilles down. Barely days ago the Greeks were pinned against the beach, desperate, all hope seeming lost, as Hector even burned the first of their ships, and now Fortune had cast Troy a deadly hand. Taunting Achilles for his audacity, Agenor hurls his spear at the golden figure. His aim was true, as the deadly point soared straight at the son of Peleus' thigh. But no! A resounding clang rang out as the gleaming gifts of Hephaestus held true. Achilles' turn, but he is denied his prey, as Lord Apollo, god of the sun deflects his throw. The god spirits Agenor away, defiant against the turns of Fate. Achilles makes hot pursuit, bellowing threats at the god, oblivious to the fact that no man can slay a god.

Hector and Achilles
Painting by Rubens

As the wrathful hero clad in gold bears down upon Troy's gates with irresistible force, King Priam cries out to his son in vain. Having watched so many of his sons slain by Achilles' hands, he cannot bear to watch his favourite fall. Pleading with Hector to retreat within the walls, Priam's shouts are in vain. Moved to deranged grief at the coming judgement, the King of Troy tears his hair out in anguish, his Queen leading the women of Troy in a chorus of tears. But Hector is unmoved. To retreat now and enter the city, why he would die of shame, and disgrace would be heaped upon him. He considers for a moment, a fleeting thought, that maybe he could simply give Helen up to the Greeks, and hand over the riches of Troy to Agamemnon and Menelaus, the sons of Atreus (and grandsons of Pelops, whose story is told here). But no, Achilles will never see mercy, so bent on destruction is he. Any chance to end this war through words has gone, only death can bring that now. Hector, for a moment, cast his thoughts back to the peaceful days:


                                 " But Achilles was closing on him now
                                   like the god of war, the fighter's helmet flashing,
                                   over his right shoulder shaking the Pelian ash spear,
                                   that terror, and the bronze around his body flared
                                   like a raging fire or the rising, blazing sun... "
                                                        - THE HOUR OF HECTOR APPROACHES           

As the sun shone on the glorious arms of the gods bound to Achilles' form,  and the favour of the gods was arrayed against him, the spirit of Hector broke. Overcome with a human fear, a fear for life, Troy's last hope ran, desperate to push back the moment of his doom. Mighty Achilles, however, was relentless, tearing after Hector all the way, never letting up. Three times around the walls of Troy they ran, all eyes fixed upon them, the eyes of gods and men. High on Olympus Zeus the Thunderer looked down in pity at Hector's plight. Adamant, Zeus demands the gods decide once and for all what is to be Hector's fate, shall he be spared from the hand of Death this day, or will Achilles strike him down at last? The King of the Gods wishes greatly to spare Hector, but Athena protests, as if Zeus goes against the will of the Fates, the gods will no longer be loyal to him. Resigned to the coming end, Zeus bids Athena go forth and do as she feels is right, powerless to intervene as he is this time.

The Body of Hector
Painting by Jacques-Louis David

Far below on the Dardan Plain, as the two heroes reach the Gates of Troy for the fourth time, the hour as come. For all the gods to see, Zeus holds out his scales of gold, and within he placed the fates of both men, one for Hector the Prince of Troy and one for mighty Achilles. As the Thunderer raised them high, down fell the fate of Priam's son. As Zeus commanded Apollo to stand down, and all gods loyal to Troy to pull back from the field, Athena triumphantly soared down to Hector's side, and in her cunning took the shape of Deiphobus, another of Priam's sons. Warmed by the sight of his dear brother, the deceived Prince of Troy is heartened that he is no longer alone, blind as he is to the goddess's schemes. Athena speaks with the voice of Deiphobus, and sows fresh courage in Hector's heart, the valour which once broke the lines of Greece. Shouting in defiance of the Fates, Hector turns and faces his enemy boldly. Offering a pact to fierce Achilles, that the victor will return the defeated body of his foe to his friends, and not allow it to be the sport of crows and dogs, Hector appeals one last time to Achilles' mercy, but:


                             " A swift dark glance
                               and the headstrong runner answered, 'Hector, stop!
                               You unforgivable, you... talk not of pacts to me.
                               There are no binding oaths between lions and men..."
                                                    - ACHILLES TO HECTOR

Achilles Triumphant
Painting by Franz Matsch

All words spent, the hour of battle had come. With a godly throw, Achilles cast his deadly spear at the Prince of Troy. Ducking barely in time, Hector was spared the Hand of Death, as the bronze point pierced the ground. Unperturbed, Athena wrenched the weapon from the Earth and returned it to Achilles, hidden from Hector's eyes. Courage building, Hector is elated, if Achilles can miss, perhaps there is hope? For the countless thousands of Troy's sons whose blood stains the Earth now, Hector marshalled all his strength and hurled his own lance, its murderous point soaring through the air. A direct hit! But woe, though the spear struck the Shield of Achilles' dead centre, the craft of Hephaestus was not so easily undone. Not for the first time, with a deafening clang did a spear spin off the armour of Achilles. His strength sapped by his throw, Hector railed with frustration, shouting out to loyal Deiphobus to pass him another spear. But Deiphobus was no longer there, and Hector realised the trickery deployed against him. Embracing his fate at last, the noble Prince of Troy roared, "So now I meet my doom. Well let me die, but not without a struggle, not without glory, no, in some great clash of arms that even men to come will hear of down the years!"

With one last burst of glory, Hector took his sword from his side and lunged at Achilles, as an eagle which has seen its prey high up in the sky soars down to its hapless quarry. With a shout of rage, Achilles dived too, the rays of the sun falling upon his metalled form, as though the hero was aflame. Since Hector wore the armour that Achilles himself once wore, before it was torn from the lifeless form of Patroclus, Achilles' aim was true. With all his might Achilles drove his spear through Hector's throat, as the Prince of Troy at last fell broken to the dust. His lifeblood gushing from his wound, Hector gasped for breath, struggling against approaching Death. With his last efforts, he implores Achilles to give his body to Troy. But no, Achilles, inhuman with anger, savagely taunts the fallen Prince with what is to come. As the darkness begins to fall over Hector's eyes, and he at last begins to know peace, he calls down one last curse upon his conqueror, foretelling Achilles own demise will come, as soon he will join him in the House of Death. As the spirit of Hector is borne to the Underworld, the Greeks explode with shouts of triumph, as Achilles tears the armour from Hector's back. His foe's death alone unable to sate his rage, Achilles pierced Hector's ankles, threading a leather strap through them and binding them to his chariot. With a lash of his whip, Achilles charges around the walls of Troy, the lifeless Prince dragging over the harsh ground, with the eyes of all Troy on this outrage...

As the most famous duel in history, the final confrontation of Hector and Achilles is as legendary today as it ever was in ancient times. The poem which tells its story is one worthy of the epic events themselves. You can find it and read it (and trust me, its worth it) in the Iliad, one of the earliest surviving works of literature in the West. For over 15,000 lines of some of the greatest poetry ever written, for the price of a cinema ticket, you can get it easily of Amazon:

United Kingdom

Penguin Classics:
The Iliad (Penguin Classics)
(A translation which retains much of the poetic meter, and my personal recommendation)

Oxford World's Classics:
The Iliad (Oxford World's Classics)
(A translation which forgoes some of the poetic epithets, more suitable for the casual reader)

United States

Penguin Classics:
The Iliad (Penguin Classics)
(A translation which retains much of the poetic meter, and my personal recommendation)

Oxford World's Classics:
Iliad (Worlds Classics)
(A translation which forgoes some of the poetic epithets, more suitable for the casual reader)

The Rage of Achilles

“ Down from the high skies the father of men and gods let loose tremendous thunder,
   from down below Poseidon shook the boundless earth and towering heads of mountains.
   The whole world quaked, the slopes of Ida with all her springs and all her peaks
   and the walls of Troy and Achaea’s ships... ”

                              - ZEUS UNLEASHES WAR UPON THE FIELDS OF TROY

Thetis presents the arms to Achilles
Painting by Giulio Romano.

Newly furnished with a magnificent gift of arms from the forge of Hephaestus himself, with a roar of fury Achilles vowed bloody vengeance upon the sons of Troy, and death to Prince Hector, whose hand had felled his cousin Patroclus (for the immediate lead up to these events, please click here). As the rage pounding through Achilles reached even lofty Olympus, the gods above met in council to lay out the brutal final act of the siege of Troy. But Achilles, one of the greatest warriors ever born, was unleashed upon the field of war, the only place ever his true home.

Seeing the unstoppable power of Achilles gathering its strength, Zeus the Thunderer is worried. The Fates have decreed that Priam’s citadel will indeed fall, but also that Achilles will not be the one to take it, that he must die at Troy. Fearing that Achilles will dare to raze the walls of Troy himself if unopposed, Zeus commands the gods to take their sides and journey down to the field of war, granting aid to whoever their desire drives them. With a flash of lightning, the gods descend from on high, their spirits going one way or another. Hera, Queen of the gods, races to the Achaean ships, followed closely by Poseidon, the god of the sea and Lord of Earthquakes, Athena, the lady of war and wisdom, as well as Hermes the god of messengers and luck and Hephaestus, the god of fire and the forge. But murderous Ares, the god of war himself, swept to the Trojan ranks, flanked by Apollo, the god of the sun and the archer, Artemis his twin sister and Aphrodite of the golden hair.

As gods waged war upon gods, so too down on the plain did man against man. Spying his first foe, Achilles charged upon Aeneas, the son of Aphrodite and cousin of Hector. Breathing strength into the Trojan warrior, Apollo turned to face the wrathful Achilles. Taunting his audacity to face him alone, Achilles sprinted toward Aeneas. Facing his foe honourably, Aeneas hurls his heavy lance at the golden clad Achilles. His aim is true, and surely it would smite the life from Achilles, but no, the glittering gifts of the gods guarded the favoured Achilles. Five plies thick was the Shield of Achilles, the outer two forged of bronze, the inner two of tin and between them one of purest gold. The mighty ashen spear of Aeneas bores through two plies and held fast in the gold. Now Achilles’ turn. Taking up his spear of strong Pelian ash, the son of Peleus hurled with all his might. Straight through Aeneas’ shield the spear punched, but the Trojan crouched low, and the spear soared inches from his head and embedded firmly in the ground behind. Anguish rising in him, Aeneas fears that his time has come, as do the gods above. Drawing his sword, Achilles lunges to strike down the prince, but his blade passes only air, for Poseidon rushes to the field and bears Aeneas away to safety. The Fates have a plan for Aeneas, a magnificent destiny ahead in a distant land, it is not his time.

The Fury of Achilles
Painting by Charles-Antoine Coypel.

Furious at his humbled glory, Achilles charges into the massed ranks of the Trojans. Iphition is the first to fall, as Achilles deals him so violent a blow with his spear that the Trojan’s skull splits in half. His rage growing, Achilles rounds on Demoleon next and, with a shout, spears him in the temple, the bronze helmet buckling before the great warrior, Demoleon’s brains and gore showering his comrades. The carnage rising, Polydorus, the Prince of Troy and brother to Hector, falls to Achilles’ hands, the blood of yet another of Priam’s sons staining the fields of Troy. Then he sees him. Hector himself is close at hand. Gaze fixed upon the man who is the cause of his grief, Achilles speeds toward him as Death to a man. Apollo, seeing the danger, whisks Hector away from the battle. Roaring in defiance at the Heavens, the godlike Achilles hurls himself once again into the thick of war, rage tempered by grief for his fallen cousin. His blade hot with the blood of Trojan sons, and his anger hotter still, Achilles gives chase to his fleeing foe.

Achilles fights the River
Painting by Auguste Couder.

Coming to the banks of the Scamander River, many Trojans, looking upon the golden clad Achilles in terror, hurl themselves into its foaming waters, desperate to escape his spear. But nothing will break the lust for slaughter in Achaea’s greatest champion. Casting aside his great spear, he dives in, relentless in pursuit, hurling countless heroes to the House of Death. But Scamander is angered by the desecration of his waters. Rising from a whirlpool, the shape of a man, the god of the river begs Achilles to stop his rampage, as his channels are already choked with corpses. Scorning the god’s plea, Achilles advances, as Scamander swirls his waters to protect the fleeing Trojans, calling to Apollo for aid. His rage fired once more, Achilles charges the god himself. Bellowing as a bull, Scamander, his white rapids churning in fury, hurls his thunderous currents upon the hero. The powerful torrents batter that mighty shield, forcing Achilles on one knee. Cursing the river’s power, Achilles moves for the bank, eager to return to the battlefield. But the river refuses to let up, crashing upon the furious hero again and again:

                  “ Again and again the brilliant swift Achilles whirled...

                     Again and again the mighty crest of the river fed by the rains of Zeus

                     Came battering down on his shoulders, down from high above

                     But Achilles kept on leaping, higher, desperate now... ”

                                                 - SCAMANDER FIGHTS ACHILLES

Bemoaning that it is better to die under the spear of Hector than broken by the river, the lamentations of Achilles are heard throughout the Heavens. Rushing to his aid, the god Hephaestus, whose mighty hands made the shining armour now protecting Achilles, moves against the river. Conjuring up his divine power, the god of fire unleashes a maelstrom of fiery rage upon Scamander. The elms, willows and tamarisks upon its banks roar with flame, the lotus plants amongst its waters blacken with heat and the creatures within its waves writhe in agony as the blazing inferno takes hold. Hera sends the West and South Winds forth, and a searing gale blasts the Trojan troops, as the whole arena now erupts with fire. His waters bubbling and boiling with agony, Scamader cries in cruel pain, crippled under the onslaught. Relenting at last, the river releases its hold on Achilles, surrendering the great hero to his fate. Hephaestus quenches his flame, and makes his peace with Scamander. Fury pounding through his veins, Achilles leaps from the river and sprints toward the towering walls of Troy, focusing on one thing alone – Hector. The gods above will not interfere this time. This time, there will be no escape for the Prince of Troy, as total war descends upon the vast plains...

United Kingdom

Penguin Classics:
The Iliad (Penguin Classics)
(A translation which retains much of the poetic meter, my personal recommendation)

Oxford World's Classics:
The Iliad (Oxford World's Classics)
(A translation which omits some of the epithets in favour of 'easier' reading for the casual reader)

United States

Penguin Classics:
The Iliad (Penguin Classics)
(A translation which retains much of the poetic meter, my personal recommendation)

Oxford World's Classics:
The Iliad (Oxford World's Classics)
(A translation which omits some of the epithets in favour of 'easier' reading for the casual reader)

The Shield of Achilles

So long as Greece’s finest champion, the favoured Achilles, nursed his wounded pride by the proud Achaean ships, the Trojan War slipped ever close to victory for the mighty city (For background to this, click here). With Zeus the Thunderer himself favouring Priam’s sons, Hector routs battalion after battalion of the Greek armies, throwing Achaea’s finest back against the ships themselves. Not even towering Ajax, cunning Odysseus, powerful Diomedes or Menelaus of the loud war cry could face the godlike Prince of Troy. Hector even manages to set the first Achaean ship ablaze, causing Patrocles, Achilles’ cousin and greatest friend from home, to beg Achilles to allow him to fight. Achilles relents, but commands strictly that he is to return when the Trojans have been pushed back from the ships. Patroclus takes the great warrior’s armour, and leads the Myrmidons against Prince Hector, setting into motion a chain of events which will spell doom for Priam’s citadel...

Patroclus cuts a bloody swathe through the Trojan ranks aboard his great chariot, and the tide of war begins once again to swing in Achaea’s favour. Fleeing in terror before what appeared to be Achilles himself, the Trojans are thrown back to the very walls of Troy itself. Forgetting Achilles’ dire warning not to go beyond the ships, Patroclus soon finds himself faced by Hector himself. This time however, the gods are decided. It is not Hector’s time. So, at the height of his prowess, and with Greeks clamouring for Trojan blood at the walls themselves:

Achilles mourns over the body of Patroclus
Painting by Nikolaj Nikolajewitsch Ge.

“ Death cut him short. The end closed in around him.

Flying free of his limbs,

His soul went winging down to the House of Death,

Wailing his fate, leaving his manhood far behind,

His young and supple strength. ”

       - THE DEATH OF PATROCLUS

A ripple of foreboding tears through both armies. Both sides fight for the body of the young boy, and many times it changes hands. At last, Menelaus manages to bear the corpse away from the fighting, while Hector and Aeneas break the Achaean lines once more. With Greeks fleeing in terror, Menelaus desperately tells a messenger, Antilochus, to send word to Achilles of the fate of his cousin, hoping at last he will be persuaded to rejoin the fighting. With trepidation, Antilochus approaches Achilles’ tent and finds him sitting by the shore. “Patroclus has fallen! They’re fighting over his corpse! He’s stripped, naked – Hector with that flashing helmet, Hector has your arms!”. A black cloud of agony swirls over Achilles, as he lies, broken with grief and rage. He smears dirt and ashes over his fine clothes and writhes in the dust. The women wail with sorrow, as the great runner begins to weep. But then Thetis, the nymph whose son Achilles was, looked down in pity:

                        “ I am agony – mother of grief and greatness – O my child!

                          Yes, I gave birth to a flawless, mighty son...

                          The splendour of heroes, and he shot up like a young branch,

                          Like a fine tree I reared him – the orchard’s crowning glory –

                          But only to send him off in the beaked ships to Troy! ”

                                                 - THETIS BEMOANS THE FATE OF ACHILLES

Thetis pleads to him to leave the war behind, knowing in vain that it is the fate of her son to die at Troy. But her words fall on deaf ears, as Achilles cares not whether he too is to be hurled to the House of Death, so long as he first stains the lands with Hector’s blood. Resigned to the inevitable, Thetis resolves to go to Hephaestus, the god of fire and the Smith, to forge for her son a mighty new suit of armour, one worthy of a demigod, one greater by far than the gear which Hector now bears. Soaring to the Olympian heights, Thetis throws herself at the feet of the god, and pleads for help. Remembering her kindness to him in ages past, when all other gods spurned him for his lameness, Hephaestus vows to craft the mightiest apparel a god ever made for a mortal. What follows is, in my own opinion, one of the finest passages in literature, as Hephaestus forges the Shield of Achilles. Turning his bellows on the fire, crucibles burning to the god of fire’s wishes, Hephaestus takes his great hammer in one hand and with the other grips the metal with his tongs. Laying down five layers of metal, emblazoned with finely crafted emblems, Hephaestus employs all his craft and cunning as he turns to forging the vast expanse of the Shield:

Hephaestus
Painting by Rubens.

“ There he made the earth and there the sky and the sea

   And the ever burning sun and the moon rounding full

   And there the constellations, all that crown the heavens,

   The Pleiades and the Hyades, Orion in all his power too

   And the Great Bear that mankind calls the Wagon:

   She ever wheels on her axis, watching the Hunter,

   And she alone is denied a plunge in the Ocean’s baths. ”

                      - HEPHAESTUS LAYS OUT THE SHIELD

But the god does not stop there. On the shield he then forged two great cities filled with mortal men and women. There are weddings and feasts in one of these cities, and with torches brides are brought forth, marching through the streets, as the choirs sing. Young men are dancing in the street, some playing flutes and harps. The god’s hammer brings forth the people massing in the streets to see the procession. In one place, a quarrel has broken out, and two men are fighting. The crowd around them is cheering them on.



Hephaestus presents his mighty gifts to Thetis
Painting by Sir James Thornhill.



But the god does not stop there. Surrounding the other city, a divided army has set up camp, one side arguing whether to plunder the city or share the riches with the people. Within the citadel untold riches bound, and the people within do not surrender. Hephaestus’ toil carves the image of a raid, as the people hope to break the siege, with wives and children cheering them on from the towering ramparts. Ares and Athena lead them on in war, magnificent in their armour. Spying the enemy's flocks of livestock, the besieged try to take them, but the besiegers spot their ploy and ride to the rescue, and both sides hurl their spears, as Strife, Havoc and Death plunge into the field of war.

Thetis bears the magnificent gifts to Achilles
Painting by Benjamin West.

But the god does not stop there. He forges the image of a fallow field, and broad rich plowlands, as teams drive their cattle through. When they reach the boundary of the field, they pour a libation to the gods on high. It was an image forged in solid gold, “such was the wonder of Hephaestus’ work”. A king’s estate next emerges from the metal, where labourers harvest, reaping the grain as young boys pile up the scythed sheaves. The king in the centre, marvelling at the work. Next a thriving vineyard with endless grapes and climbing vines, all awaiting the hands of the workers, who place them in wicker baskets. The workers toil on, as a young boy plucks a lyre, serenading them with song. Next a herd of longhorn cattle, rumbling out of a farmyard along some rippling stream. Nine dogs accompany them, while a pair of lions seize a bull from the front ranks and drag him off in agony. The herdsman yells to his dogs, but to no avail. The crippled god of the Smith then forged a great meadow in a shaded glen, where dwell flocks of sheep and shepherd’s huts. Round the edge of the indestructible Shield, the god forged the Ocean River in its boundless power. His godly work near complete, he creates a breastplate brighter than fire, and a helmet perfectly aligned to Achilles’ temples.

Hephaestus lays the magnificent gear at the feet of Thetis, who loses no time in flashing back down to her son, bearing the most splendid gifts of the god of fire, the final act of the Siege of Troy about to begin...

As the first and arguably greatest work of poetry in the West, The Iliad deserves a place in the bookshelves of us all. The Shield of Achilles, whose description takes up Book Eighteen of The Iliad, is in my opinion one of the finest pieces of literature ever written, and is more than worth reading. The whole work is available very easily and at a low price from Amazon:

United Kingdom

Penguin Classics:
The Iliad (Penguin Classics)
(A translation which retains much of the poetic meter, my personal recommendation)

Oxford World's Classics:
The Iliad (Oxford World's Classics)
(A translation which omits some of the epithets in favour of 'easier' reading for the casual reader)

United States

Penguin Classics:
The Iliad (Penguin Classics)
(A translation which retains much of the poetic meter, my personal recommendation)

Oxford World's Classics:
The Iliad (Oxford World's Classics)
(A translation which omits some of the epithets in favour of 'easier' reading for the casual reader)

The Olympian Gods in Arms

The Trojan War, even three thousand years after the great city lay in smoking ruins, remains the most famous war in history. This war was the baptism of Achilles, arguably the greatest warrior ever born, a hero even in his own short lifetime, who commanded the favour of the mightiest gods of Olympus. Where Achilles charged, his enemies fled. When roused to war, when the thrill of battle had taken hold, he was unstoppable. Countless cities fell to his wrath and the prowess of the Myrmidons, the finest soldiers in Greece who bowed only to the great warrior. Homer’s great poem, The Iliad, granted Achilles the immortality that he so yearned, fusing his legend into the memory of man for eternity. The Trojan War, however, was as much a struggle amongst the gods as it was a war of men. 

           

         “Sing Goddess of the rage, sing of the rage of Peleus’ son Achilles,

     Murderous, doomed, that cost the Achaeans countless losses,

  Hurling down to the House of Death so many sturdy souls,”

                                                                                    - HOMER OPENS HIS GREAT STORY

Thetis, the mother of Achilles, pleads with Zeus
to avenge her son's humiliation
Painting by Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres.

So begins Homer’s great epic. Like many great heroes of legend, Achilles was as proud as he was relentless. It is indeed Achilles’ pride and his eventual salvation which form the essence of The Iliad’s greatness. When Apollo (god of the Sun, truth, archery, healing and disease) looses his deadly arrows upon the Achaean (Homer’s term to encompass all the Greeks at Troy) camp, a great plague strikes the Greeks. Agamemnon, King of Mycenae and High King of all the Greeks, consults an Oracle as to the origin of Apollo’s anger. The Oracle tells the High King that Apollo is enraged that Agamemnon has taken a girl, Chryseis as his slave. Chryseis’ father was a priest of Apollo in a city that the Achaeans had sacked earlier, and pleaded to Apollo for her return. Humiliated, Agamemnon releases the girl. At the sack of that city however, Achilles had acquired a woman, Briseis, as part of his war spoils. Agamemnon decided to steal Briseis for himself, and orders Achilles to yield. But the proud Achilles was angered. Indeed, Achilles would have thrust his sword into the High King, had not Athena (goddess of wisdom and strategy), come down from Olympus and stayed his hand. Humiliated in front of the whole Greek force, Achilles withdraws from the war, leaving the Greeks to fend for themselves against the onslaught of the Trojan Prince Hector, greatest of the fifty sons of Priam – King of Troy.

Untold thousands fall on the Achaean and Trojan sides, including many great heroes, as Achilles nursed his wounded pride. Olympus itself was divided, Zeus favoured the Trojans (yet had ordained that the Achaeans would eventually triumph), so too did Ares (the god of war), Apollo and Aphrodite (the goddess of lust). Spearheading the Greek cause were Athena and Hera (Queen of the gods) and at times, Poseidon (the god of the sea). Many of the heroes on both sides were themselves of divine descent. Hector was descended, through Priam, from Zeus himself. Aeneas (who would one day become the progenitor of the Roman race) was the son of Aphrodite, as well as being of Trojan royal lineage and a relative of Hector. Diomedes, a mighty Greek hero second in war only to Achilles himself, was the nephew of Heracles. Sarpedon, one of the mightiest Trojan heroes, was the son of Zeus. Many times the gods intervened in battle to spare their kin, or as in the case of Ares, partake in the war for love of slaughter.

With the absence of Achilles, the Achaean ranks buckled under the Trojan assault, led by the godlike Prince of Troy and the god of war himself. Pitying the Greek cause, Athena granted her blessing to the towering Diomedes, of the line of Tydeus and King of Argos;

            “She set the man ablaze, his shield and helmet flaming

          With tireless fire like the star that flames at harvest,

                     Bathed in the Ocean, rising up to outshine all other stars.”

                                                               - ATHENA BLESSES DIOMEDES

The formidable champion tore through the Trojan ranks, as captain after captain, soldier after soldier, all fell to Diomedes' rage. Spotting Aeneas, Diomedes bellowed his war cry and:

Diomedes wounds Aphrodite
Painting by Arthur Fitger.

“Hefted a boulder in his hands, a tremendous feat-

No two men could lift it, weak as men are now,

But all on his own he raised it high with ease,   

Flung it and struck Aeneas’ thigh where the hipbone

Turns inside the pelvis, the joint they call the cup…”     

    - DIOMEDES STRIKES DOWN AENEAS

There and then, Aeneas would have been slain, had Aphrodite not raced down from Olympus’ heights and taken her son to safety. Guided on by Athena’s hand, Diomedes then dared to strike a god. Taunting the weak goddess, Diomedes thrust his great spear through Aphrodite’s wrist. With a cry of pain, she dropped her son and limped back to Olympus, as Apollo bore Aeneas to safety. Enraged, Diomedes charged the Archer god:

            “Three times he charged, frenzied to bring him down,

                 Three times Apollo battered his gleaming shield back…

‘Think Diomedes, shrink back now!                         

Enough of this madness – striving with the gods.     

We are not of the same breed, we never will be,     

the deathless gods and men who walk the earth’.”  

                                       - DIOMEDES ENGAGES THE SUN GOD

Away from the fighting Apollo swept the wounded Aeneas, and he called on Ares to staunch Diomedes’ wrath. A Trojan arrow struck Achaea's champion, yet the hero fought on, sending many a Trojan to Hades’ Halls.

Then, appearing from afar, Diomedes laid eyes on Ares himself, who lead the Trojan charge. The Achaeans fell in droves at Ares’ spear, and a ripple of fear spread through the Greek ranks. Hera implored Zeus to halt the slaughter, and so the Thunderer sent forth his daughter Athena. Even great Diomedes baulked at facing such a foe, until Athena’s blessing came forth and brought courage anew. Athena mounted his chariot and ordered Diomedes to advance. Few men would dare to face a god, yet now a mortal man and the god of war himself took arms upon each other:

            “The two of them closing fast, charging face to face,

                  And the god thrust first, over Tydides’ yoke and reins,

            With bronze spear burning to take the fighter’s life”

                                             - ARES CHARGES DIOMEDES

Yet one’s chance of survival is often aided when one has the favour of a goddess. Athena deflected the blow and hurled Ares’ spear aside. Diomedes yelled his war cry, and Athena guided his hand:

“Lunging out with his own bronze spear and Pallas rammed it home,

Deep in Ares’ bowels where the belt cinched him tight.                 

There Diomedes aimed and stabbed, he gouged him down             

his glistening flesh and wrenched the spear back out                      

and the brazen god of war let loose a shriek, roaring,                     

thundering loud as nine, ten thousand soldiers                                

shriek with Ares’ combat fury when massive armies clash.             

A shudder swept all ranks, Trojans and Argives both,                    

Terror-struck by the shriek the god let loose,                                

Ares whose lust for slaughter never dies...”                                   

                                                - DIOMEDES WOUNDS THE GOD OF WAR

Ares - The Lord of War
Roman copy of a Greek original.

The lord of war tore back to Olympus’ heights, for a god cannot die. The balance of war restored, triumphant Athena followed. But the Prince of Troy still stood, and routed battalion after battalion of Achaea’s finest. Not even the great Diomedes, towering Ajax or cunning Odysseus could face the son of Priam down.  The War of Troy, it seemed, lay in Trojan hands...

The Iliad is the cornerstone of Western literature. All Greeks looked back to Troy. In the same way that the English may think of King Arthur, this was the foundation of Greece. It united the people in a time when civil war was rife and men fought for cities not nations. One day, the descendants of Aeneas would found a small settlement on the banks of a river called the Tiber, a settlement to which the known world would one day bow...

The Iliad is the first and greatest work of epic literature. I will look in future posts at other memorable episodes of this great story. I thoroughly recommend that it be amongst your book collection, it really is a masterpiece of literature. It is available very easily from Amazon:

United Kingdom

Penguin Classics:
The Iliad (Penguin Classics)
(A translation which retains much of the poetic meter, my personal recommendation)

Oxford World's Classics:
The Iliad (Oxford World's Classics)
(A translation which omits some of the epithets in favour of 'easier' reading for the casual reader)

United States

Penguin Classics:
The Iliad (Penguin Classics)
(A translation which retains much of the poetic meter, my personal recommendation)

Oxford World's Classics:
The Iliad (Oxford World's Classics)
(A translation which omits some of the epithets in favour of 'easier' reading for the casual reader)