But for him fought the Greeks, until the earth was wet with blood and the very skies echoed the clang of battle.
To Achilles came Antilochos, a messenger fleet of foot.
‘Fallen is Patroclus!’ he cried, ‘and around his naked body do they fight, for his armour is held by Hector.’
Then did Achilles moan aloud. On the ground he lay, and in his hair he poured black ashes. And the sound of his terrible lament was heard by his mother, Thetis, the goddess, as she sat in her palace down under the depths of the green sea.
Up from under the waves swiftly came she to Achilles, and tenderly did she listen while he poured forth to her the tale of the death of his dear comrade.
Then said Thetis:
‘Not long, methinks, shall Hector glory in the armour that was thine, for Death presseth hard upon him. Go not forth to battle, my son, until I return, bearing with me new and fair armour for thee.’
But when Thetis had departed, to Achilles in his sorrow came Iris, fair messenger of the gods.
‘Unto windy Ilios will the Trojans drag the body of Patroclus unless thou comest now. Thou needst not fight, Achilles, only show thyself to the men of Troy, for sore is the need of Patroclus thy friend.’
Then, all unarmed, did Achilles go forth, and stood beside the trench. With a mighty voice he shouted, and at the sound of his voice terror fell upon the Trojans. Backward in flight they went, and from among the dead did the Greeks draw the body of Patroclus, and hot were the tears that Achilles shed for the friend whom he had sent forth to battle.