Achilles' Wrath

Beneath Troy’s ancient turrets and soaring Scaean Gate

Achilles challenged Hector, drawing down his fair fate.

The Greek roared at the Trojan, whose pride gave way to flight,

Lost was his poise, his valour, his battle-hardened might.

Three times round those curtain walls they dashed in death’s pursuit,

Apollo lengthened Hector’s strides, hurtling down that route.

Athene, cloaked as Hector’s kin, posed to end his strife;

He could not see her treachery threatening his life.

‘I’ll stand with you, brother, we’ll subdue Achilles’ wrath.

Side by side we’ll snare him, joined valour will prove enough.’

Zeus held up fate’s scales, a life placed in each greying pan,

The King of gods admired their struggle as they ran.

His scales revealed the outcome of destiny’s cold will.

One pan soared aloft, the second bleakly cast its chill.

Emboldened by Athene’s pledge, Hector poised his spear,

Then hurled that glistening javelin through pale evening’s smear.

It smote the bronze boss of Achilles’ heaven made shield

Which resounded an unearthly clang across Troy’s fields.

The spear fell to the wayside, its mighty force was spent,

Hector’s hopes lay broken, the plaything of grim torment.

As for Deiphobus, Hector turned but saw no trace,

He knew how fate was tending that he had lost the race.

Yet Achilles’ heaved throw sallied over Hector’s head.

The Trojan Prince taunted, he had cheated icy death,

‘Where is your famed courage, where is your spirit’s mettle?

For you have lost in Troy’s full glare this bitter battle!’

Achilles stood at a loss, reflecting on fate’s crime

’Til that goddess of deceit intervened a second time.

She snatched up his fallen shaft and unseen gave it back.

Now Achilles made no mistake, sprinting down the track.

He thrust at his loathed rival, still smarting, yet headstrong

He sent valiant Hector tumbling, plunging headlong.

So brave Prince Hector crashed upon his uncaring turf

The Trojan screams echoed across broad Sigeum’s surf.

The Greek slit those mighty tendons, passed a dark chord through,

Tying loathsome bonds, mutilating the corpse anew.

While fearsome Myrmidons yelled and gestured wildly,

Earth’s foul dust disfigured noble Hector heartlessly.

Under Troy’s shadowing walls, those nerve wracked battlements,

Achilles stood bristling, taunting through his arrogance.

He tethered Hector’s body to his chariot’s frame

And then he stood, arm raised, fist clenched, cruelly to his shame.

He whipped Xanthus and Balius into headlong flight,

They hauled his bloodstained chariot through the fading light.

Three times past Troy’s barricades they circled, galloping

Proudly sleek, while, stretched out, bruised Hector’s head was plunging

Over each Earth-rent cleft, sealing Troy’s grim destiny.

Ilion’s woodland nymphs despised Hector’s enemy,

The ageless fates regretted cutting short that frail thread.

The Greeks alone rejoiced that the Trojan Prince was dead.

Some Olympians deplored that Hector was beguiled

By Pallas, who from Troy’s sheer citadel glibly smiled.