Book Eleven

Zeus (zyoos) sends the goddess Strife with shrieks of terror to fire up the Greeks. No more thought of sailing home — they are hot for battle. As the other gods chafe at their enforced neutrality, confined to the halls of Olympus, Zeus alone controls the fate of battle from a solitary escarpment. Agamemnon (a-guh-MEM-non) suits up for combat in his gorgeous armored breastplate, metal belt, silver-trimmed shinguards, and twin-horned helmet with towering horsehair plume. From the center of his shield stares the horrifying snake-haired Gorgon. The Greek and Trojan armies approach the clash slashing and lunging like teams of reapers closing in from opposite ends of a field, scything great swathes of wheat.

Such was the churning melee of close-in combat until mid-morning when Zeus saw fit to give the upper hand to the Greeks and Agamemnon. Down from his chariot leaps the first Trojan adversary, and Agamemnon spears him straight through the helmet, spattering brains. His driver goes down in short order, as do the next pair, driver and warrior both struck down from their chariot. Another pair plead for mercy when the very sight of Agamemnon looming before them spooks their team. Their father, Antimachus (an-TIM-uh-kus) will pay a huge ransom, but Agamemnon recognizes the name — bribed by Paris, Antimachus had not just refused to return Helen but had attempted to murder Menelaus (meh-neh-LAY-us) when the latter, accompanied by Odysseus (oh-DISS-yoos), had visited Troy on a peaceful embassy. Agamemnon kills them both, chopping off head and arms of one man and sending him rolling like a log. Behind Agamemnon his troops surge in a thundering blur of dust and flashing armor, riderless chariots, stallion hooves, and clashing bronze.

Now Zeus takes up his position on Mount Ida and sends Iris with a message for prince Hector. As long as Agamemnon rages on, keep your distance. But as soon as he is wounded and takes to his chariot, then I will grant you invincible glory for as long as the sun hangs in the sky. Meanwhile, Agamemnon has come up against the newlywed son of king Priam's counselor Antenor (an-TEE-nor). The young man is the first to strike, but the point of his spear is bent back by Agamemnon's belt, and the Greek hauls him in by the shaft and then drops him to the ground with a slash of his sword. His older brother rushes up and stabs at Agamemnon from the blind side, gashing his forearm, but Agamemon hacks off his head so that it rolls atop his brother's corpse.

For as long as the blood flows freely from Agamemnon's wound, he feels no pain and fights on with sword and spear and hurled stones. But as soon as it dries it hurts like the pangs of childbirth and he can bear it no longer. Mounting his chariot, he exhorts his captains to soldier on in his place, for it is the will of Zeus that he withdraw. This is the sign that Hector has been waiting for, and he wades into the fray like murderous Ares (AIR-eez), cutting down enemies left and right. For a while Diomedes (dy-uh-MEE-deez) and Odysseus hold off the Trojan onslaught. In one of their many kills, Diomedes shatters a man's hip — a wound that might not have been fatal had the man not ventured too far from his chariot. And now Hector bears down on them. Diomedes hurls his spear and catches the Trojan captain square in the helmet, but the bronze casque, a gift of Apollo (uh-POL-oh), stops the spearpoint. Hector withdraws and drops to one knee in a swooning fit. And as Diomedes comes up to retrieve his spear, Hector staggers to his feet and boards his chariot — which he has wisely kept at hand. To the sound of Diomedes' taunts, he careens off to safety behind the Trojan lines.

While Diomedes is stripping the armor from one of his kills, Paris takes aim at him with his bow from a place of concealment. When the arrow hits home and pins Diomedes' foot to the ground, Paris jumps out and shouts in exultation. But Diomedes shrugs it off as a mere scratch and challenges Paris to fight like a man, face-to-face with sword and spear. Odysseus covers him with his shield while he yanks the arrow from his foot and, in real pain, boards his chariot and heads back to the ships. Now Odysseus is on his own, and he gives serious thought to making a run for it, before deciding that honor demands he make a stand. The Trojans ring him round, and like a boar cornered by hounds he makes them pay for it. Finally one enemy manages to draw blood, his spear passing through Odysseus' breastplate and grazing his ribs, a flesh wound only but encouragement to the Trojans. They press in relentlessly and Odysseus shouts out for help. Menelaus and Ajax, huge Ajax, his shield like a sheltering tower, come to his rescue. Odysseus is sent back to the ships in his chariot.

Ajax wades in and deals death to the Trojans. This is the heart of the battle. Out on the fringe, Hector is doing comparable damage to the Greeks. And Paris wounds their healer, Machaon (muh-KAY-on), with an arrow to the shoulder. Nestor is told to get Machaon back to camp, because a man who can cut arrows out of wounds and apply healing salves is worth a whole battalion. Hector, meanwhile, is alerted to the damage being done by Ajax, so he races toward the center of the battle, his horse trampling corpses and the wheels of his chariot spraying blood. He devastates the Greek forces, although he prudently keeps clear of Ajax. But Zeus himself now forces Ajax to give ground.

Even in retreat Ajax is like a stubborn mule that boys try to drive down a road, breaking stick after stick on his back, powerless to control him when he wanders off into a field and makes a banquet of some farmer's crop. Sticks and more sticks and finally they get him going again, but not before he's eaten his fill. So with Ajax the Trojans rain spears on his shield, yet he backs up only slowly, stopping from time to time to cut down his opponents. Single-handedly, he is holding them off from attacking the Greek camp. Yet his companion in arms Eurypylus (yoo-RIP-ih-lus) sees the danger of his situation and hurries up to take a stand beside him, until Paris spots him and brings him down with an arrow to the thigh. Even as his comrades carry him off to his chariot, Eurypylus beseeches them to give aid to Ajax, who now takes a stand once more in the thick of the fighting.

Meanwhile, Nestor's chariot has carried Menelaus back to the Greek camp. From high on the stern of his ship where he has been watching the battle, Achilles (a-KIL-eez) sees them pass and calls out to his friend Patroclus (pa-TRAH-klus). "I recognized Nestor in that passing chariot, but who was that wounded man? Could it have been Machaon, son of Asclepius (a-SKLEE-pi-us), the most famous healer of all time? Go make inquiries." Back at his tent, Nestor, his driver, and the wounded Machaon dry the sweat from their shirts by standing in the sea-wind, then go inside where a serving woman mixes a drink of onions, honey, barley wine, and goat cheese. This is served in a four-handled cup of solid gold that an average man could barely lift when it was empty, but Nestor tipped it easily.

Patroclus is invited in but he says that he can't stay, as he is on an errand from the kind of man who would find fault with the faultless. Nestor can't understand why Achilles is so concerned about the wounded man since almost all captains have been injured and the entire Greek army is on its last legs. "If only I were young again," says Nestor in his usual refrain. He remembers the time that he killed a man while out on a cattle raid. Because Heracles (HER-uh-kleez) had waged war against his father's kingdom and killed all eleven of his brothers, the neighboring Epeans (eh-PEE-unz) had taken advantage of the situation to rise up in arms. Raiding the Epeans' cattle was a way to get even, but now the Epeans responded in force to the cattle raid. Nestor's father would not allow his only remaining son to fight them. Thinking him still too young for warfare, he'd hidden his horses. So Nestor walked to the battle, killed the Epean champion, and commandeered his chariot, going on to kill fifty chariot warriors and their drivers.

Nestor reminds Patroclus that his father told him always to advise Achilles well, as the older friend, when the two of them went off to war. Nestor suggests that if Achilles won't fight he let Patroclus lead his men into battle and suit up in his armor, so the Trojans, mistaking him for Achilles, call off their assault and give the hard-pressed Greeks a chance to catch their breath. His fighting spirit stirred, Patroclus rushes off to tell Achilles, but on his way he encounters the limping Eurypylus, the blood still flowing from his wounded thigh. Moved to compassion, Patroclus asks if the Greeks can possibly hold out against Hector. No hope, says Eurypylus. He asks Patroclus to tend to his wound, cut out the arrow, wash it with warm water, and apply a painkilling salve that he has learned about from Achilles, who in turn was taught its use by Chiron (KY-ron), most humane of the centaurs. Though he's torn by duty to Achilles, Patroclus has no choice but to comply.