24.265–298

The encounters have raised emotions in all the characters, anger, sorrow, longing, remorse. We know the next steps in the unfolding of the plot because Zeus has orchestrated them with his edicts and the poet has us listening for the dramatic meeting between Priam and Achilles that we know is coming. The action could proceed briskly at this point, with Priam’s trip to the Greek camp covering a few verses, or he could suddenly appear before Achilles with no build-up. Instead, we get an elaborate description of how his wagon is outfitted for the journey, the various pieces of equipment and how they all fit together. The components are well-polished, beautiful, and expertly assembled:

ἐκ δ᾽ ἔφερον ζυγόδεσμον ἅμα ζυγῷ ἐννεάπηχυ.
καὶ τὸ μὲν εὖ κατέθηκαν ἐϋξέστῳ ἐπὶ ῥυμῷ
πέζῃ ἔπι πρώτῃ, ἐπὶ δὲ κρίκον ἕστορι βάλλον,
τρὶς δ᾽ ἑκάτερθεν ἔδησαν ἐπ᾽ ὀμφαλόν, αὐτὰρ ἔπειτα
ἑξείης κατέδησαν, ὑπὸ γλωχῖνα δ᾽ ἔκαμψαν.

And with the yoke they brought out the yoke-band, nine cubits long,
setting it snugly in place on the well-polished wagon pole
at the bottom of the beam, then slipped the ring over the peg,
and bound it with three turns around the knob, and then
fastened it all in order and bent it under a hook.

Iliad 24.269–74

The style of the passage recalls other everyday exercises in the Homeric poems, like landing a ship or preparing a meal, expansive with frequent epithets, measured in its pace, often containing blocks of language repeated verbatim (e.g., Il. 1.432–39; 24.621–27; Od. 3.447–63). While some in the original audience might have been fascinated with the intricate procedure, we might wonder why the poet chose this moment in the story to slow the narrative down.  

The poet’s past practice suggests that we look at the primary imperative for storytellers—especially those who work with a live audience before them, as we imagine the composer of this poem to have done—to keep their listeners engaged in the moment. One way to pull us in is to create expectations, which keep us invested in the story. Early in Book 15, Zeus lays out the main outlines of plot as it will unfold, up to and even beyond the end of the poem:

ἔρχεο νῦν μετὰ φῦλα θεῶν, καὶ δεῦρο κάλεσσον
Ἶρίν τ᾽ ἐλθέμεναι καὶ Ἀπόλλωνα κλυτότοξον,
ὄφρ᾽ ἣ μὲν μετὰ λαὸν Ἀχαιῶν χαλκοχιτώνων
ἔλθῃ, καὶ εἴπῃσι Ποσειδάωνι ἄνακτι
παυσάμενον πολέμοιο τὰ ἃ πρὸς δώμαθ᾽ ἱκέσθαι,
Ἕκτορα δ᾽ ὀτρύνῃσι μάχην ἐς Φοῖβος Ἀπόλλων,
αὖτις δ᾽ ἐμπνεύσῃσι μένος, λελάθῃ δ᾽ ὀδυνάων
αἳ νῦν μιν τείρουσι κατὰ φρένας, αὐτὰρ Ἀχαιοὺς
αὖτις ἀποστρέψῃσιν ἀνάλκιδα φύζαν ἐνόρσας,
φεύγοντες δ᾽ ἐν νηυσὶ πολυκλήϊσι πέσωσι
Πηλεΐδεω Ἀχιλῆος: ὃ δ᾽ ἀνστήσει ὃν ἑταῖρον
Πάτροκλον: τὸν δὲ κτενεῖ ἔγχεϊ φαίδιμος Ἕκτωρ
Ἰλίου προπάροιθε πολέας ὀλέσαντ᾽ αἰζηοὺς
τοὺς ἄλλους, μετὰ δ᾽ υἱὸν ἐμὸν Σαρπηδόνα δῖον.
τοῦ δὲ χολωσάμενος κτενεῖ Ἕκτορα δῖος Ἀχιλλεύς.
ἐκ τοῦ δ᾽ ἄν τοι ἔπειτα παλίωξιν παρὰ νηῶν
αἰὲν ἐγὼ τεύχοιμι διαμπερὲς εἰς ὅ κ᾽ Ἀχαιοὶ
Ἴλιον αἰπὺ ἕλοιεν Ἀθηναίης διὰ βουλάς.

(To Hera) Go now among the gods and call Iris
here to me, and Apollo, the famous archer,
so she might go to the bronze-jacketed
Achaeans, and say to the lord Poseidon
to that he should leave the battle and return home,
and let Phoebus Apollo urge Hector into battle
and breathe strength into him again and make him forget
the pains that wear out his spirit. Let him drive
feeble panic into the Achaeans and turn them back,
that fleeing they might fall against the benched ships of
Achilles, son of Peleus, and he will rouse his companion
Patroclus, and glorious Hector will kill Patroclus with his spear
before Ilion, after he has destroyed many other strong
men, including my son, shining Sarpedon.
And bright Achilles in his anger will kill Hector.
From that time then I would bend the fighting back again
always and unceasingly toward the ships until
the Achaeans should destroy steep Ilion through the plans of Athena.

Iliad 15.54–71

And there we have it. We know what will happen, but not how and when, and now Homer has us where he wants us, manipulating our expectations, teasing and delaying. Patroclus dies, and we look for Achilles. But first, 760 verses, all of Book 17, describe the fight between the Greeks and Trojans over who will control the corpse of Patroclus. Achilles rises in Book 18, shattered by grief and burning with the need to avenge his friend. But then 278 verses roll by, as Athena commissions and Hephaestus fashions immortal arms for Achilles. Athena delivers them at the beginning of Book 19, and now we wait for the great duel to begin, but first, one more pointless try at reconciliation from Agamemnon, brushed aside by Achilles. Now, finally, we look for Achilles to launch his quest for vengeance. No, instead Odysseus—almost as if he were the poet’s mole in the story—reminds Achilles that the soldiers haven’t eaten yet. Achilles’s impatience (and ours) is palpable at this point. He will not eat until Hector is dead but will delay entering the battle until sundown in deference to the rest of the soldiers. Book 19 ends with Achilles putting on his armor, the longest and most disturbing of four arming scenes in the poem (cf. 3.330–38; 11.17–44; 16.130–44; 19.369–91). Surely now, Homer’s audience would say to themselves, we will hear about the death of Hector?

We will wait for 1250 verses before the final duel begins. At the beginning of Book 20, Achilles enters the battle and kills many Trojans, but despite our hopes, not Hector. At one point, we can feel the poet playing with us: 

τῶν δ᾽ ἅπαν ἐπλήσθη πεδίον καὶ λάμπετο χαλκῷ
ἀνδρῶν ἠδ᾽ ἵππων: κάρκαιρε δὲ γαῖα πόδεσσιν
ὀρνυμένων ἄμυδις. δύο δ᾽ ἀνέρες ἔξοχ᾽ ἄριστοι
ἐς μέσον ἀμφοτέρων συνίτην μεμαῶτε μάχεσθαι,

The whole plain was filled with the shining bronze
of men and horses, and beneath their feet the earth shook
as they clashed. And two men much greater
than the others came together in the middle, eager to fight,

This must be the moment when we’ll see Achilles and—wait for it—Aeneas!

Αἰνείας τ᾽ Ἀγχισιάδης καὶ δῖος Ἀχιλλεύς.

Iliad 20.156–60

The ensuing duel ends when Poseidon rescues Aeneas (288–329), and our anticipation grows. Finally, Hector, who has been kept away from Achilles, tracks him down and we brace for the final showdown. The two enemies trade insults, and the fighting begins:

ἦ ῥα, καὶ ἀμπεπαλὼν προΐει δόρυ, καὶ τό γ᾽ Ἀθήνη
πνοιῇ Ἀχιλλῆος πάλιν ἔτραπε κυδαλίμοιο
ἦκα μάλα ψύξασα: τὸ δ᾽ ἂψ ἵκεθ᾽ Ἕκτορα δῖον,
αὐτοῦ δὲ προπάροιθε ποδῶν πέσεν. αὐτὰρ Ἀχιλλεὺς
ἐμμεμαὼς ἐπόρουσε κατακτάμεναι μενεαίνων,
σμερδαλέα ἰάχων: τὸν δ᾽ ἐξήρπαξεν Ἀπόλλων
ῥεῖα μάλ᾽ ὥς τε θεός, ἐκάλυψε δ᾽ ἄρ᾽ ἠέρι πολλῇ.

So he [Hector] spoke and brandishing the spear, he threw it,
but Athena turned it away from glorious Achilles with a
slight puff. It flew back again to brilliant Hector
and fell in front of his feet. Achilles
sprang forth furiously, raging to kill him,
with a terrible cry. But Apollo snatched up Hector,
easily, since he was a god and covered him in a thick mist.

Iliad 20.438–44

In Book 21, Achilles fights a spectacular but inconclusive battle against the river god Skamander, and then Apollo lures him away to the edge of the battlefield by impersonating the Trojan Agenor, who has become the third victim rescued from Achilles, whisked away in a cloud. As the episode concludes, the poet has put Achilles across the plain from Troy, angry and frustrated. At last, the encounter we have been waiting for can begin in Book 22, when Hector stands alone in front of the city walls, ready to accept his fate.

Priam’s journey to the Greek camp seems finally to be imminent. The mules are yoked, the ransom gifts aboard the wagon. One more delay, while Hecuba urges the old king to pour a libation to Zeus and ask the god for sign that Priam will return safely from amidst his enemies. The queen’s role as the last impediment to Priam repays our attention. Her loving concern for her husband softens the harsh atmosphere created by Priam’s abuse of his sons. Grief has isolated him from his family, but Hecuba sends him off with her love, at least. At the same time, we see her stepping into a familiar role for women in the Homeric poems, the Detaining Woman, who tries to keep the hero from his mission, luring him with the pleasures of affection and comfort. This figure appears all over ancient Mediterranean myth, as early as Siduri, the alluring barkeep in The Epic of Gilgamesh (hypertext link to Epic of Gilgamesh, SB X.i.41-51 [Standard Babylonian version]? Better here than just a citation, since I haven’t really introduced the question of which version, how to cite the text, etc.?). Penelope, Calypso, Nausicaa, and Circe all play the role in the Odyssey, and the type persists throughout western literature, from Virgil’s Dido to Joyce’s Molly Bloom. Hecuba’s assumption of this role at this moment in the story is one of many signs that we are to think of Priam, old as he is, as a hero setting out on his mission. In the mysterious encounter between old king and the mysterious stranger soon to follow, the poet invokes three potent paradigms that have been building throughout the poem, the theme of the hero’s trip to the Underworld, the relationship of parents and children, and the unburied corpse. Each will have a prominent role in the Iliad’s final meditation on the human condition.

Further Reading

Van Nortwick, T. 1992. Somewhere I Have Never Travelled: The Second Self and the Hero’s Journey in Ancient Epic, 112–116. New York: Oxford University Press. 

———. 2009. The Unknown Odysseus, 17. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press.