LOVERS’ LEGENDS
with success they pressed on, farther and farther to the black walls of Troy itself. Routed, the Trojans drew back, 100 and back again, struggling for dear life. Many fell under Patroclus’ lance that day, so many that Apollo himself took notice and stepped in to help his favored troops. One blow from him, and Achilles’ golden armor went flying into the dust. Stunned, Patroclus did not see coming the lance that struck between his shoulder blades, nor the one Hector thrust through the gut. Patroclus fell to the earth and clawed the bloody dust, the name of Achilles on his lips. Horror gripped the Greeks, to see sweet life ripped from Patroclus. Too late to save him, they fought like lions 110 to claim his body and his armor but Hector overpowered them all, and no one could brave him now. He grabbed the god-forged armor for himself, and would have taken Patroclus’ head as well, but the Greeks managed to drive him back, and bore away the broken corpse to Achilles’ lodge. Black grief crushed Achilles, his eyes brimmed with endless tears. He threw himself upon Patroclus’ body, full of reproaches for throwing his life away: “Why so ungrateful, after all our kisses? Why so uncaring for the holy union of our thighs?” He mourned without let, 120 forgetting sleep, forgetting food and drink, and day after day put off the funeral, unable to part with his friend. Even the goddess Thetis, Achilles’ mother, resting on the bottom of the sea, heard his cries and hurried to his side. “My child, how long will you go on mourning like this? It is a good thing to lie in love with a woman, too!” But even as life left Patroclus, so the will to live left Achilles.
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