All followed him, shouting, to the spot where Menelaus and Ajax stood shielding the body of Patroclus. Their hearts beat wildly when they saw the little band bearing down on them, and Menelaus ran as fast as he could to procure more help. “Come friends,” he cried, “there lies Patroclus, whom the Trojans would seize and carry away to become food for Trojan dogs. Do ye not feel the shame of it?”
The younger Ajax was the first to hear and respond; then came Idomeneus and Meriones, each with a band of followers. They arrived beside the corpse just as Hector and his men came up, and the shock of meeting was like the ocean tide at the mouth of some mighty river which empties into the sea, so terrible was the crash of shields and lances.
Then Automedon with Achilles’ steeds came dashing along, resolved himself to contend for the corpse. Hector saw him coming and cried, rejoicing, to Æneas: “There come Achilles’ splendid horses! Come, if thou wilt aid me, let us take them!” They ran toward the chariot, but Automedon, springing to the ground, called Ajax and Menelaus to his aid. Chromeus and Aretus joined Hector and Æneas and a fresh contest raged about the chariot. Hector aimed well and cast with mighty power, but Automedon dashed quickly aside and the spear flew far over him into the earth, where it quivered for a long time. Automedon was more fortunate, and although Hector dodged the blow, it struck Aretus, who stood behind him. Meanwhile evening was descending and Ajax was anxious to secure the body before night came on. But it was all the Achaians could do to hold back the enemy. Then Ajax said to Menelaus: “If only some good youth would hasten to the ships and take to Achilles the tidings of his friend’s death perhaps he would come himself to rescue the body from the enemy’s hands. Dost thou see Antilochus, Nestor’s son? I think he could reach camp quickest.” Menelaus hastened away to seek the youth, where he was fighting at the other side of the battlefield. He was horrified to learn of the hero’s death and tears filled his eyes; but he did not tarry and hurried away to Achilles.
Menelaus returned straightway to Ajax, saying: “I have sent him, but I doubt whether Achilles will come without his armor. So let us try once more to secure the body.”
“Thou art right,” answered Ajax. “Let us make another attempt, and if they retire but a little way, do thou and Meriones seize the corpse while the rest of us keep off the mighty Hector and the other Trojans.”
This strategy partially succeeded and Menelaus and Meriones were able to drag the body some distance away. Meanwhile Achilles had been impatiently awaiting his tardy friend. He ascended to his usual post, the high deck of his ship, and saw, approaching through the twilight and clouds of dust, dense crowds which looked like fleeing men. It seemed to him that he could hear Hector’s triumphant voice pursuing the Achaians. An uneasy premonition seized him and he was about to send out a messenger when young Antilochus appeared before him and spake, weeping: “Woe is me, son of Peleus, I bring thee sad tidings. Patroclus is slain, and our warriors are fighting desperately for his naked body, for Hector has taken his weapons.”
Achilles grew pale as death. He tore his hair with rage, beat his breast, and threw himself upon the ground, covering dress, face, and head with dust. His eyes flashed dangerously, his heart palpitated, and horrible groans escaped his half-open lips. His slaves gathered about him in affright; but when they learned the cause of his boundless sorrow, they all burst out weeping. Antilochus wept also and held the hero’s hands, fearing that the passionate man would harm himself. This terrible despair lasted a long time, but at last the overburdened heart found relief in tears and he broke out in loud lamentations.
His mother Thetis heard him and arose from the depths of the sea to seat herself beside her unhappy son. She pressed his head to her bosom and inquired tenderly: “Dear child, what is troubling thee now? Do not conceal anything from me. Speak! Hath Jupiter not fulfilled thy wish and given the victory to the Trojans?”
“What care I for the favor of Jupiter when Patroclus, whom I loved as myself, lies dead! Hector hath slain him and taken the armor, that splendid gift of my valiant father. For what a fate was I born! But, indeed, I will not live if I may not slay Hector and avenge the death of my friend.”
“Glorious son,” said his mother, weeping, “when thou hast slain him it will be thy doom; for thy death is decreed immediately after Hector’s.”