The Anger of Achilles: Homer's Iliad by Robert Graves

Author:Robert Graves [Graves, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780795337079
Publisher: RosettaBooks
Published: 2014-03-06T05:00:00+00:00

To break loose and eat his fill

By superior strength;

We are only boys but still,

When we flog him with a will

Out he trots at length.

Numerous spears flung by the Trojans or their allies fell short, and none of those that struck Ajax’s renowned shield went through, though they seemed greedy to drink blood. Every now and again he would face about and defend himself, before retiring once more; his stubborn rear-guard action undoubtedly delayed the Trojan offensive.

Eurypylus, Euaemon’s gallant son, who had seen Ajax’s battle against odds, advanced and fought at his side. He killed an enemy commander named Apisaon, son of Phausius, with a spear-cast in the liver, and leaped forward to take his armour. Paris seized the opportunity: he sent an arrow into Eurypylus’ right thigh. The shaft broke off and caused Eurypylus such torment that he withdrew, crying shrilly: ‘Help, noblemen of Greece! Unless you rally to Ajax’s assistance, he will be overwhelmed.’

His comrades ran up in a body. Ajax met them, and then covered their retreat as they used a cradle of shields, supported by spears resting on their shoulders, to carry Eurypylus away. It was indeed a flaming, fiery battle!

When Nestor’s mares bore him and Machaon towards the camp, Achilles the Swift-Footed, watching the Greeks’ disorderly rout, summoned his friend Patroclus, son of Menoetius. ‘Do you need me, Achilles?’ Patroclus shouted, appearing at the entrance to the hut.

Achilles, from his post near the stern of his ship, answered: ‘Dear Patroclus, I am sure that the Greeks will soon be falling in supplication at my knees; they can hardly do otherwise. But I want you to ask Nestor who was the wounded man with him… From behind he looked like Machaon; the horses went by too quickly for me to distinguish his features.’

Patroclus, not suspecting the evil consequences of this mission, hurried along the line, until he reached Nestor’s quarters. Eurymedon the charioteer had already unharnessed his team, while Nestor and Machaon stood disarmed on the seashore, letting the breeze dry their sweaty tunics. They then entered the hut, where fair-haired Hecamede, daughter of the valiant Prince Arsinous, mixed them a delicious beverage. Hecamede, one of the women captured by Achilles on Tenedos, was Nestor’s prize of honour: a reward for his sagacious advice.

Nestor and Machaon settled into chairs, and Hecamede drew up a grand, well-polished table, its legs inlaid with lapis lazuli. On it she placed a bronze beaker containing a restorative drink of boiled onion juice, pale yellow honey, and the flour of pearl-barley; also a magnificent four-handled, two-footed, gold-studded bronze goblet, brought from Nestor’s own palace. Each handle was formed of two golden doves, which inclined their beaks as if sipping. The goblet, after being filled, was of tremendous weight, though Nestor could still lift it easily; and now held Pramnian wine. Hecamede, beautiful as a goddess, used a bronze grater to flavour this with goat’s cheese and added a little barley flour. ‘The drink is ready, my lords!’ she told them.

Nestor and Machaon

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