“Restless old man,” said Achilles kindly, “depart then. But first tell me something. How soon dost thou intend to bury thy son? For until then I will keep the peace and restrain my people from battle.”
“O Achilles,” answered the old man, much moved, “if thou wilt grant us this favor, give us nine days to mourn the dead and prepare for his burial. On the tenth day we will burn him, on the eleventh erect the grave mound, and on the twelfth, if it must be, we will resume the war.”
“Let this, too, be as thou desirest,” replied Achilles. “I will hold the army in check for as long as thou hast demanded.”
He clasped the old man’s wrist to assure him of good faith, then accompanied the chariot as far as the gate in the wall, taking care that none of the Achaians should harm the old man. Priam drove once more through the well-known fields, past the ford of the flowing Scamander, where yesterday the friendly youth had appeared. And now, just as he was watering his horses there, the sun rose. Cassandra, Priam’s favorite daughter, who had been standing on the watch tower since dawn awaiting the return of her father with beating heart, recognized the travellers. She waited until she could discern all plainly, even the covered body of her brother on the chariot. Then she ran down the stairs to the palace, calling her mother and sisters loudly. “Only look, they are coming! Hasten, Trojans, to look upon the body of Hector, if ye have ever rejoiced over him alive as he returned from the battlefield. For he was the pride of the city and of all the people!”
All who heard her voice hurried forth, men and women, all hearts filled with boundless sorrow. But first of all came the old mother and Andromache. They went out to meet the chariot and stopped it at the city gate with loud cries. Mother and wife threw themselves on the body and wet it with their tears, tore their hair, touched his head, and lifted up the cloths to look upon his wounds. The crowd gathered, weeping, about them. But the king cried: “Stand back and let the horses pass! Ye may weep your fill when I have carried him into the house.”
They all stood aside and the king entered the city, the crowd following him to the palace. When the corpse was lifted from the chariot the universal lament began afresh. Singers were brought to chant the hymn of mourning and round about the women sobbed, especially Andromache, the beautiful princess. She held the dead man’s head in her hands and moaned: “Beloved, thou hast lost thy life, but the widow, alas, is left behind and thy young son. How shall he grow to manhood? For before that Troy will fall, as thou art dead, who didst defend the walls, the women, and lisping children. Soon they will be carried away to bondage, myself among them. And thou, my dear son, wilt go hence to endure ignominy with thy mother, if indeed some cruel Achaian entering the conquered city does not seize thee by thy tender neck and hurl thee down from the tiles into the streets below. Thy valiant father hath slain many Achaians; therefore the people mourn. O Hector, what unspeakable sorrow thou hast caused thy parents, but I am unhappy above all others! Dying, thou couldst not give me thy hand nor speak words of wisdom which I might have cherished.” Thus she spake, weeping, fathomless sorrow in her heart.
The old mother also could not be torn from her beloved son. First she caressed his head, then the cold hands, as though she hoped to call him back to life. Helen too lamented over the dead. “Hector dearest,” she cried, “thou didst love me more than any of my husband’s brothers. What insults I have suffered since the hero brought me to Troy! Thou alone hadst never an unkind word for me. Yea often, when thy mother or one of my sisters-in-law or even their husbands heaped abuse upon me, thou didst mollify the angry ones and make peace. How thy friendly encouragement comforted me! Ah, I shall never hear that dear voice again, and I have no longer a friend in this house, where all turn from me with loathing.”
Thus she lamented, and all the women mourned with her. But the venerable Priam now raised his commanding voice and spake. “Ye Trojans, fetch wood into the city and go without fear that the Danæans are lying in wait for you. For Peleus’ son promised with a sacred vow not to raise his hand against us until the twelfth day.”
Quickly they yoked oxen and horses to the carts, and on the tenth day, when golden Eos arose, the people all assembled for the funeral obsequies of Hector. With loud lamentations they carried out the corpse and laid it on the high scaffolding, which they set on fire. When the pyre had burnt itself out, they quenched the gleaming embers with red wine. His brothers and the comrades of the hero gathered together the white bones out of the ashes and deposited them in a golden urn, which was placed in the grave and gigantic blocks of stone heaped upon it. The grave mound was raised above it and sentinels were stationed about the place so that the Greeks should not surprise and attack them. After this all the people returned into the city and the solemn funeral feast was held in Priam’s palace. Thus the Trojans paid honor to the body of great Hector.
LIFE STORIES FOR YOUNG PEOPLE