Thus, in his tent, the steadfast son of Menoetius was tending to the wounded Eurypylus; but the Argives and Trojans fought on in a confused mass. Nor was the ditch of the Danaans, nor the wide wall above it, destined to hold for much longer; that wall they had built as a defense for their ships, and around it they had driven a trench. But they had not given glorious hecatombs to the gods, so that it might protect their swift ships and the vast spoils held within. For it had been built against the will of the immortal gods, and for that reason it was not to stand firm for long. For as long as Hector was alive and Achilles nursed his wrath, and as long as the city of King Priam remained unsacked, for so long did the great wall of the Achaeans stand firm. But when the best of the Trojans had fallen, and many Argives had been slain while others survived, when the city of Priam was sacked in the tenth year of the war, and the Argives had embarked upon their ships for their own dear fatherland, then at last did Poseidon and Apollo take counsel together to bring down the wall by unleashing the might of the rivers upon it. All the rivers that flow from the mountains of Ida to the sea—the Rhesus and the Heptaporus, the Caresus and the Rhodius, the Granicus and the Aesepus, and divine Scamander, and the Simoeis, where many ox-hide shields and crested helmets had fallen in the dust, along with the race of demigod men—the mouths of all these rivers Phoebus Apollo turned upon the same point, and for nine days he drove their current against the wall. And Zeus rained down without cease, that he might the sooner cast the ramparts into the sea. The Earth-Shaker himself, with his trident in his hands, led the way, and hurled into the waves all the foundations of logs and stones which the Achaeans had laid with such toil. He made all level along the swift-flowing Hellespont, and covered the long shore again with sand, having overthrown the wall. Then he turned the rivers back to their own channels, where their fair-flowing water had run before. This is what Poseidon and Apollo were destined to accomplish in time to come. But at that moment, the clamor of war blazed around the well-built wall, and the timbers of the towers rang as they were struck. The Argives, broken by the scourge of Zeus, were hemmed in and held back by their hollow ships, seized by fear of Hector, the mighty master of the rout. And he, as before, fought on like a stormwind. As when a wild boar or a lion, beset by hounds and huntsmen, turns upon them, glorying in his strength; and they, forming themselves into a solid square, stand against him and hurl a volley of javelins from their hands. Yet his proud heart knows neither dread nor fear, and it is his own courage that kills him. Again and again he turns to charge the ranks of men, and wherever he directs his assault, there the ranks of men give way. So did Hector move through the throng, beseeching his comrades and urging them to cross the trench. But his own swift-footed horses dared not, and they whinnied loudly, halting at the very brink; for the wide ditch terrified them, being not easy to leap over from nearby, nor simple to cross. For precipitous banks stood all around it on both sides, and above it was crowned with sharp stakes which the sons of the Achaeans had planted, close-set and large, as a defense against hostile men. A horse pulling a swift-wheeled chariot could not easily enter there, but the foot soldiers were eager to see if they could achieve it. Then Polydamas, standing beside him, spoke to bold Hector: “Hector, and you other leaders of the Trojans and our allies, it is foolishness to drive our swift horses across this trench. It is most difficult to pass, for sharp stakes are set within it, and next to them is the Achaean wall. There is no way for horsemen to descend and fight there; the ground is narrow, and I think we would come to harm. For if Zeus who thunders on high, in his grim purpose, means to destroy them utterly and wills to aid the Trojans, then truly I would wish for this to happen at once, for the Achaeans to perish here, far from Argos, without a name. But if they should turn back, and a counter-attack should come from the ships, and we become entangled in the deep trench, then I think not even a messenger would make it back to the city, once the Achaeans have rallied. But come, let us all do as I say. Let our squires hold the horses by the trench, while we ourselves, armed for battle in our gear, all follow Hector on foot in a mass. The Achaeans will not withstand us, if indeed the cords of destruction are fastened upon them.” So spoke Polydamas, and his sound counsel pleased Hector. At once he leaped in his armor from his chariot to the ground. Nor did the other Trojans remain gathered on their chariots, but all sprang down when they saw godlike Hector do so. Then each man gave orders to his own charioteer to hold his horses in good order there by the trench. The men then separated and arranged themselves, forming into five companies, and followed their leaders. The first company, the most numerous and the best, went with Hector and the peerless Polydamas, and they were the most eager to breach the wall and fight by the hollow ships. Cebriones followed them as a third commander; Hector had left another man, inferior to Cebriones, with his chariot. The second company was led by Paris, Alcathous, and Agenor. The third was led by Helenus and godlike Deiphobus, two sons of Priam; their third commander was the hero Asius, Asius, son of Hyrtacus, whom his great, fiery horses had brought from Arisbe, from the river Selleis. The fourth was led by the worthy son of Anchises, Aeneas, and with him were the two sons of Antenor, Archelochus and Acamas, both skilled in all the ways of war. And Sarpedon commanded the glorious allies, choosing to stand with him Glaucus and warlike Asteropaeus, for they seemed to him clearly the best of all after himself; but he outshone them all. When these had fitted together their shields of tough ox-hide, they went straight for the Danaans with great eagerness, believing they could no longer be held back, but would fall upon the black ships. Then the other Trojans and their far-famed allies followed the counsel of blameless Polydamas. But Asius, son of Hyrtacus, a leader of men, refused to leave his horses and his charioteer squire behind, but with them he drew near to the swift ships. Fool that he was! He was not destined to escape the evil fates and return in glory with his horses and chariot from the ships to windy Ilium. For a doom of ill name was to enfold him first, at the hands of the spear of Idomeneus, the glorious son of Deucalion. He had driven toward the left of the ships, where the Achaeans were wont to return from the plain with their horses and chariots. There he drove his horses and his chariot, and he did not find the gates closed with their doors and the long bar, but men held them wide open, in case they might save any of their comrades fleeing from the battle toward the ships. Straight for this point he steered his horses, full of purpose, and his men followed with him, shrieking shrilly; for they thought the Achaeans could no longer hold them back, but that they would fall upon the black ships. Fools! At the gates they found two of the finest warriors, proud sons of the Lapith spearmen: one was the mighty Polypoetes, son of Peirithous, and the other was Leonteus, a man like Ares, the scourge of mortals. These two stood before the lofty gates like two high-crested oaks upon the mountains, that withstand the wind and the rain day after day, held fast by their great and unending roots. So these two, trusting in their hands and their strength, awaited the advance of great Asius and did not fall back. The Trojans, raising their shields of dry hide high, advanced straight for the well-built wall with a great war-cry, rallying around King Asius, and Iamenus, and Orestes, and Adamas son of Asius, and Thoön, and Oenomaus. For a time, the two Achaeans remained inside, urging their well-greaved comrades to defend the ships. But when they saw the Trojans rushing the wall, and a cry of panic arose from the Danaans, the two of them sprang forth and fought before the gates, like two wild boars in the mountains who await the coming clamor of men and hounds, and charging from the flank they break the wood around them, tearing it up by the roots, and a clatter of tusks is heard until one strikes them and takes their life away. So did the bright bronze resound upon their chests as they were struck from the front; for they fought with great strength, trusting in the men on the towers above them and in their own might. From the well-built towers, the others hurled down stones, defending themselves, their huts, and their swift-faring ships. The stones fell to the earth like snowflakes that a violent wind, churning the shadowy clouds, showers down thick upon the bounteous earth. So the missiles streamed from the hands of both Achaeans and Trojans; and a dry clang arose from the helmets and bossed shields as they were struck by the heavy stones. Then Asius, son of Hyrtacus, groaned and struck his thighs, and spoke out in distress: “Father Zeus, in truth you too have become a master of lies! For I did not think the Achaean heroes could withstand our might and our invincible hands. But they, like nimble-waisted wasps or bees that have made their nest on a rocky path, do not abandon their hollow home, but stay and fight off huntsmen for the sake of their young. So these men, though they are only two, are not willing to give way from the gates before they either kill or are killed.” So he spoke, but his words did not persuade the heart of Zeus, for it was to Hector that his spirit wished to grant glory. Meanwhile, others were locked in battle at other gates. But it would be hard for me, as if I were a god, to tell of all these things. For all around the stone wall a wondrous fire raged. And the Argives, though grieving, were forced by necessity to defend their ships; and all the gods who were allies of the Danaans in battle were heavy of heart. And the Lapiths joined in the war and the fray. Thereupon Polypoetes, the mighty son of Peirithous, struck Damasus through his bronze-cheeked helmet with his spear. The bronze helmet did not hold, but the bronze point drove straight through and shattered the bone, and the whole brain inside was spattered about; and so he slew him in his fury. After that he laid low Pylon and Ormenus. And Leonteus, scion of Ares, son of Antimachus, struck Hippomachus with his spear, hitting him on the belt. Then drawing his sharp sword from its sheath, he rushed through the throng and struck Antiphates first, in close combat; and he was dashed backward upon the ground. Then Menon, and Iamenus, and Orestes, he brought them all one after another to the bounteous earth. While these two were stripping the gleaming armor from the dead, the young men who followed Polydamas and Hector, those who were the most numerous and the best, and who were most eager to breach the wall and set fire to the ships, still hesitated, standing by the trench. For an omen had appeared to them as they were eager to cross: a high-flying eagle, keeping the army on its left, carrying in its talons a monstrous blood-red serpent, still alive and gasping, for it had not yet given up the fight. It twisted back and struck the eagle that held it on the breast beside the neck; and the eagle, stung with pain, dropped it to the earth, letting it fall in the midst of the throng, and with a scream it flew away on the blasts of the wind. The Trojans shuddered when they saw the writhing snake lying in their midst, a portent from Zeus who bears the aegis. Then Polydamas, standing beside him, spoke to bold Hector: “Hector, you always rebuke me in the assemblies, even when I offer good counsel; for you think it is not fitting for a common man to speak out of turn, neither in council nor in war, but always to increase your power. Yet now I will speak again as seems best to me. Let us not go forward to fight the Danaans for their ships. For this is how I believe it will end, if this omen truly came for the Trojans as we were eager to cross: the high-flying eagle, keeping the army on its left, was carrying a monstrous blood-red serpent, still alive; but it let it go before it could reach its own nest, and did not succeed in bringing it to its young. “So we, even if we breach the gates and the wall of the Achaeans with great might, and the Achaeans give way, we will not return from the ships in good order by the same path. For we will leave many Trojans behind, whom the Achaeans will cut down with the bronze as they defend their ships. So would a seer interpret this, one who understood the portents in his heart and whom the people would obey.” Then Hector of the gleaming helm looked at him grimly and said: “Polydamas, these words you speak are no longer pleasing to me. You know how to devise a better speech than this one. But if you truly speak this in earnest, then the gods themselves have destroyed your wits, you who bid me forget the counsels of loud-thundering Zeus, which he himself promised me and confirmed with a nod. You bid me put my trust in long-winged birds, which I do not heed or care for, whether they fly to the right, toward the dawn and the sun, or to the left, toward the misty darkness. Let us instead obey the will of great Zeus, who is king over all mortals and immortals. One omen is best: to fight for one’s country. Why do you fear war and battle? Even if all the rest of us are slain beside the ships of the Argives, there is no fear that you will perish, for your heart is not steadfast in a fight nor warlike. But if you hold back from the fray, or persuade another with your words to turn from the battle, you will at once lose your life, struck by my own spear.” So he spoke and led the way, and they followed with a wondrous clamor. And Zeus who delights in thunder sent forth a blast of wind from the mountains of Ida, which carried the dust straight to the ships; and he bewildered the minds of the Achaeans, but gave glory to the Trojans and to Hector. Trusting in his portents and in their own strength, they set about to breach the great wall of the Achaeans. They pulled down the merlons from the towers, and demolished the battlements, and they levered up the projecting buttresses which the Achaeans had set first in the earth as supports for the towers. These they began to tear out, hoping to breach the Achaean wall. But the Danaans did not yet give way from the path, but they barricaded the battlements with their ox-hide shields, and from there they cast down upon the enemy as they came up under the wall. The two Ajaxes ranged everywhere along the towers, urging on the men and rousing the courage of the Achaeans. One man they would chide with gentle words, another with harsh ones, whomever they saw slacking from the fight altogether: “O friends, you Argives who are excellent, and you who are middling, and you who are lesser—since not all men are equal in war—now there is work for all, as you yourselves surely know. Let no man turn back toward the ships, having heard the call of a scaremonger, but press ever forward and call out to one another, in hopes that Zeus the Olympian, the lord of lightning, will grant that we drive back this assault and chase the enemy to their city.” So the two of them shouted, urging the Achaeans to battle. And as the snowflakes fall thick on a winter’s day, when Zeus the counsellor has been stirred to snow, revealing his shafts to men; and he stills the winds and pours the snow down without cease, until he has covered the peaks of the high mountains and the jutting headlands, and the clovered plains and the rich works of men, and it is shed upon the harbors and shores of the grey sea, though the waves that wash against it keep it at bay; but all other things are shrouded from above when the storm of Zeus weighs heavy; so did the stones fly thick from both sides, some toward the Trojans, and others from the Trojans toward the Achaeans, as they fought. And the din rose up over the entire wall. Not even then would the Trojans and glorious Hector have broken down the gates of the wall and the long bar, had not Zeus the counsellor roused his own son, Sarpedon, against the Argives, like a lion against horned cattle. At once he held before him his shield, balanced on all sides, a beautiful thing of hammered bronze, which a smith had forged, and on the inside had stitched many layers of ox-hide with golden rods that ran all around the circle. Holding this before him, and brandishing two spears, he went forth like a mountain-bred lion that has long been deprived of meat, and its proud spirit bids it to make an attempt on the sheep, even to enter a well-built steading. For even if he finds the herdsmen there, keeping watch over their flocks with dogs and spears, he has no mind to be driven from the fold without a fight, but either he leaps in and seizes a sheep, or is struck himself in the first rush by a javelin from a swift hand. So then was godlike Sarpedon’s spirit driven to assault the wall and break through the battlements. At once he spoke to Glaucus, son of Hippolochus: “Glaucus, why are we two honored above all others in Lycia with the seat of honor, and with meats, and with full cups, and why do all men look upon us as gods? And why do we hold a great estate by the banks of the Xanthus, a fair domain of orchards and wheat-bearing ploughland? Therefore we must now stand in the front ranks of the Lycians and face the heat of battle, so that some of the Lycians in their strong armor may say: ‘Truly our kings who rule in Lycia are not without glory; they eat the fat sheep and drink the choice, honey-sweet wine. But their strength is also noble, for they fight in the front ranks of the Lycians.’ “Ah, my friend, if by escaping this war we were to live forever, ageless and immortal, then neither would I fight myself in the foremost ranks, nor would I send you into the battle that brings men glory. But now, since a thousand fates of death stand over us in any case, which no mortal can flee or avoid, let us go forward—whether we shall give glory to another, or another to us.” So he spoke, and Glaucus did not turn away nor disobey. The two went straight forward, leading the great host of the Lycians. Menestheus, son of Peteos, shuddered when he saw them, for it was toward his tower that they came, bringing destruction. He looked along the tower of the Achaeans to see if he could spy any of the leaders who might ward off disaster from his comrades. He caught sight of the two Ajaxes, insatiate of war, standing there, and Teucer, newly come from his tent, close by. But there was no way for his shout to be heard by them, so great was the din, and the cry went up to heaven from the striking of shields and of horse-crested helmets, and of the gates; for all the gates had been shut, and the Trojans stood before them, trying to break them down by force and enter. At once he sent the herald Thoötes to Ajax: “Go, noble Thoötes, run and call Ajax; or rather, both of them, for that would be by far the best of all, since swift destruction will soon be wrought here. For the leaders of the Lycians are pressing hard, they who have ever been tempestuous in mighty combats. But if there too they are beset by toil and strife, then at least let the mighty Telamonian Ajax come alone, and let Teucer, who is skilled with the bow, follow with him.” So he spoke, and the herald did not disobey when he heard, but set off at a run along the wall of the bronze-clad Achaeans. Coming to the Ajaxes, he stood beside them and spoke at once: “Ajaxes, leaders of the bronze-clad Argives, the dear son of Zeus-nurtured Peteos bids you go there, that you may have a share, however brief, in his struggle. It would be better if both of you went, for that would be by far the best of all, since swift destruction will soon be wrought there. For the leaders of the Lycians are pressing hard, they who have ever been tempestuous in mighty combats. But if here too war and strife have arisen, then at least let the mighty Telamonian Ajax come alone, and let Teucer, who is skilled with the bow, follow with him.” So he spoke, and the great Telamonian Ajax did not disobey. At once he spoke winged words to the son of Oïleus: “Ajax, you and the mighty Lycomedes stay here and urge the Danaans to fight with all their strength. I will go there to face the battle, and I will come back quickly, once I have given them good aid.” So speaking, Telamonian Ajax departed, and with him went Teucer, his brother by the same father. Pandion followed them, carrying Teucer’s curved bow. When they came, moving along the inside of the wall, to the tower of great-souled Menestheus, they arrived to find men hard-pressed; for the mighty leaders and rulers of the Lycians were surging onto the battlements like a dark whirlwind. They clashed together in the fight, and the war-cry rose. Telamonian Ajax was the first to kill a man, Epicles, a companion of great-souled Sarpedon. He struck him with a jagged piece of marble that lay, huge and topmost, inside the wall by the battlement. Not easily could a man, even a very young one, hold it in both his hands, such as mortals are now; but Ajax lifted it high and hurled it, and it shattered the four-crested helmet and smashed all the bones of the skull to pieces. Like a diver he fell from the high tower, and his spirit left his bones. And Teucer, from the high wall, struck the mighty Glaucus, son of Hippolochus, with an arrow as he charged, where he saw his arm was bare, and made him cease from battle. Glaucus leaped back down from the wall in secret, so that no Achaean might see he was wounded and boast over him with words. Grief came upon Sarpedon for Glaucus’s departure as soon as he noticed it; yet he did not forget the fight, but he struck Alcmaon, son of Thestor, with his spear, and pulled the spear out. Alcmaon followed the spear and fell headlong, and his armor, intricately worked with bronze, rang about him. Then Sarpedon seized a battlement with his powerful hands and pulled, and the whole length of it came away, and the wall above was laid bare, and he made a path for many. But Ajax and Teucer met him at the same moment. Teucer struck him with an arrow on the shining baldric of his man-covering shield, about his chest; but Zeus warded off the fates from his son, so that he would not be slain by the sterns of the ships. And Ajax, leaping upon him, stabbed at his shield, and the spear-point did not go all the way through, but it checked Sarpedon in his charge. He drew back a little from the battlement, but he did not retreat altogether, since his heart hoped to win glory. And turning, he called out to the godlike Lycians: “O Lycians, why have you grown so slack in your furious valor? It is hard for me, mighty though I am, to breach the wall alone and make a path to the ships. So come on with me; the work of many is better.” So he spoke, and they, fearing the rebuke of their king, pressed on the harder around their counselling lord. On the other side, the Argives strengthened their phalanxes inside the wall, and a great struggle lay before them. For neither could the mighty Lycians breach the wall of the Danaans and make a path to the ships, nor could the Danaan spearmen ever push the Lycians back from the wall, once they had drawn near. But as two men quarrel over boundary stones, with measuring rods in their hands in a common field, and contend for an equal share in a narrow space, so did the battlements separate these men. And over them they struck at the ox-hide shields around each other’s chests, the well-rounded bucklers and the light, feathered targes. Many were wounded in the flesh by the pitiless bronze, both those who, in turning, exposed their backs as they fought, and many straight through the shield itself. Everywhere the towers and battlements were spattered with the blood of men from both sides, from the Trojans and the Achaeans. But not even so could they put the Achaeans to flight; but they held, like the scales of an honest working woman, who holds up the weight and the wool, balancing them on either side, that she may win a meagre wage for her children. So evenly was their battle and their warfare stretched, until the moment when Zeus gave the greater glory to Hector, son of Priam, who was the first to leap inside the wall of the Achaeans. He cried out with a piercing shout to the Trojans: “Rise up, horse-taming Trojans, breach the wall of the Argives and cast wondrous fire upon the ships!” So he spoke, spurring them on, and they all heard with their ears, and rushed as one man straight for the wall. Some then climbed upon the merlons, holding their sharp-pointed spears. But Hector seized a stone that lay before the gates, broad at the base but sharp at the top, and carried it forward. Two of the best men of the people, such as mortals are now, could not easily have heaved it from the ground onto a wagon; but he brandished it with ease, all alone. The son of crooked-counselling Cronos had made it light for him. And as a shepherd easily carries the fleece of a ram in one hand, and little weight presses upon him, so Hector lifted the stone and carried it straight for the doors which, tall and double-leafed, protected the gates, stoutly fitted. Two cross-bars held them on the inside, one overlapping the other, and a single bolt secured them. He came and stood very close, and planting himself firmly, he struck them in the middle, his legs well apart so that his cast might not be weak. He shattered both hinges, and the stone fell inside with its own weight. The gates groaned loudly on either side, the bars did not hold, and the doors were splintered apart in different directions by the force of the stone. Then glorious Hector sprang inside, his face as terrible as the swift night. He shone with the fearsome bronze that he wore about his body, and in his hands he held two spears. No one who met him could have held him back, save for the gods, when he leaped through the gates; and his eyes blazed with a fearsome fire. Turning to the throng, he called to the Trojans to climb over the wall, and they obeyed his urging. At once some climbed over the wall, while others poured through the wrought gates themselves. The Danaans fled in terror among the hollow ships, and an unceasing clamor arose.