The Aeneid (14 page)

                Suddenly Polites, one of Priam’s sons, came in sight. He had
                escaped death at the hands of Pyrrhus and now, wounded and
                with enemy weapons on every side, he was running through the
                long porticos of the palace and across the empty halls with
530         Pyrrhus behind him in full cry, almost within reach, pressing
                him hard with his spear and poised to strike. As soon as he
                reached his father and mother, he fell and vomited his life’s
                blood before their eyes. There was no escape for Priam. Death
                was now upon him, but he did not check himself or spare the
                anger in his voice. ‘As for you,’ he cried, ‘and for what you have
                done, if there is any power in heaven that cares for such things,
                may the gods pay you well. May they give you the reward you
                have deserved for making me see my own son dying before my
540         eyes, for defiling a father’s face with the murder of his son. You
                pretend that Achilles was your father, but this is not how Achilles
                treated his enemy Priam. He had respect for my rights as a
                suppliant and for the trust I placed in him. He gave me back the
                bloodless body of Hector for burial and allowed me to return
                to the city where I was king.’ With these words the old man
                feebly threw his harmless spear. It rattled on the bronze of
                Pyrrhus’ shield and hung there useless sticking on the surface of
                the central boss. Pyrrhus then made his reply. ‘In that case you
                will be my messenger and go to my father, son of Peleus. Let
                him know about my wicked deeds and do not forget to tell
                him about the degeneracy of his son Neoptolemus. Now, die.’
550         As he spoke the word, he was dragging Priam to the very altar,
                his body trembling as it slithered through pools of his son’s
                
blood. Winding Priam’s hair in his left hand, in his right he
                raised his sword with a flash of light and buried it to the hilt
                in Priam’s side.

                So ended the destiny of Priam. This was the death that fell to
                his lot. He who had once been the proud ruler over so many
                lands and peoples of Asia died with Troy ablaze before his eyes
                and the citadel of Pergamum in ruins. His mighty trunk lay
                upon the shore, the head hacked from the shoulders, a corpse
                without a name.

                Then for the first time I knew the horror that was all about
560         me. What was I to do? There came into my mind the image of
                my own dear father, as I looked at the king who was his equal
                in age breathing out his life with that cruel wound. There came
                into my mind also my wife Creusa whom I had left behind, the
                plundering of my home and the fate of young Iulus. I turned to
                look at the men fighting by my side. Exhausted, they had all
                deserted me and thrown themselves from the roof or given their
                suffering bodies to the flames.

                Now that I was alone, I caught sight of Helen keeping watch
                on the doors of the temple of Vesta where she was staying quietly
570         in hiding. The fires gave a bright light and I was gazing all
                around me wherever I went. This Helen, this Fury sent to be the
                scourge both of Troy and of her native Greece, was afraid of the
                Trojans, who hated her for the overthrow of their city. She was
                afraid the Greeks would punish her and afraid of the wrath of
                the husband she had deserted, so, hated by all, she had gone
                into hiding and was sitting there at the altar. The passion flared
                in my heart and I longed in my anger to avenge my country even
                as it fell and to exact the penalty for her crimes. ‘So this woman
                will live to set eyes on Sparta and her native Mycenae again,
                and walk as queen in the triumph she has won? Will she see her
580         husband, her father’s home and her children and be attended
                by women of Troy and Phrygian slaves, while Priam lies dead
                by the sword, Troy has been put to the flames and the shores of
                the land of Dardanus have sweated so much blood? This will
                not be. Although there is no fame worth remembering to be
                won by punishing a woman and such a victory wins no praise,
                nevertheless I
shall
win praise for blotting out this evil and
                
exacting a punishment which is richly deserved. I shall also take
                pleasure in feeding the flames of vengeance and appeasing the
                ashes of my people.’

590         As I ran towards her ranting and raving, my loving mother
                suddenly appeared before my eyes. I had never before seen her
                so clearly, shining in perfect radiance through the darkness of
                the night. She revealed herself as a goddess as the gods in heaven
                see her, in all her majesty of form and stature. As she caught my
                right hand and held me back, she opened her rosy lips and spoke
                to me – ‘O my son, what bitterness can have been enough to stir
                this wild anger in you? Why this raging passion? Where is all
                the love you used to have for me? Will you not first go and see
                where you have left your father, crippled with age, and find
                whether your wife Creusa is still alive, and your son Ascanius?
600         The whole Greek army is prowling all around them and they
                would have been carried off by the flames or slashed by the
                swords of the enemy if my loving care were not defending them.
                It is not the hated beauty of the Spartan woman, the daughter
                of Tyndareus, that is overthrowing all this wealth and laying
                low the topmost towers of Troy, nor is it Paris although you all
                blame him, it is the gods, the cruelty of the gods. Look, for I
                shall tear away from all around you the dank cloud that veils
                your eyes and dulls your mortal vision. You are my son, do not
                be afraid to do what I command you, and do not disobey me.
610         Here where you see shattered masonry, stone torn from stone,
                and waves of dust-laden smoke, Neptune has loosened the
                foundations with his great trident and is shaking the walls,
                tearing up your whole city from the place where it is set. Here
                too is Juno, cruellest of all, the first to seize the Scaean Gate,
                standing there sword in hand, and furiously calling up the
                supporting columns from the ships. Now look behind you,
                Tritonian Pallas is already sitting on top of your citadel shining
                out of the cloud with her terrible Gorgon, while the Father of
                the Gods himself puts heart into the Greeks and gives them
                strength. It is Jupiter himself who is rousing the gods against
                the armies of Troy. Escape, my son, escape with all haste. Put
620         an end to your struggle, I shall not leave your side till I see you
                safely standing on the threshold of your father’s door.’ She
                
finished speaking and melted into the dense shadows of that
                night, and there before my eyes I saw the dreadful vision of the
                gods in all their might, the enemies of Troy.

                At that moment I seemed to see the whole of Ilium settling
                into the flames and Neptune’s Troy toppling over from its
                foundations like an ancient ash tree high in the mountains which
                farmers have hacked with blow upon blow of their double axes,
                labouring to fell it; again and again it threatens to fall, its foliage
630         shudders and its head trembles and nods until at last it succumbs
                to its wounds and breaks with a dying groan, spreading ruin
                along the ridge. I came down from the roof and with the god to
                lead me, a way opened through fire and sword. The weapons
                parted and the flames drew back before me.

                When at last I had reached the door of my father’s house and
                our ancient home, my first wish was to find my father and take
                him into the high mountains, but he refused to go on living now
                that Troy had been levelled to the earth. He would not hear of
                exile, but cried: ‘Those of you with young blood still thick in
                your veins, those of you whose strength is sound and unimpaired,
640         you are the ones who must busy yourselves with escaping.
                If the gods in heaven had wished me to go on living, they
                would have preserved this place for me. I have already seen one
                sack of the city and survived its capture, and that is more than
                enough. Here I lie and here I stay. Take your farewells and leave
                me. My own right hand will earn me my death. The enemy will
                take pity on me. They will
                be looking for spoils. I shall have no
                tomb, but that is an easy loss to bear. For long years, ever since
                the Father of the Gods and King of Men blew the wind of his
                thunderbolt upon me and touched me with its fire, I have been
                lingering here hated by the gods and useless to men.’

650         As he said these words he stood there rooted and no power
                could move him. Streaming with tears, my wife Creusa, Ascanius,
                all of us begged him not to bring everything down on his
                own head: when Fate batters a house, the father should not add
                his weight to the blows. But he still refused. He stood by his
                decision and stayed where he was. I rushed to take up arms
                again in complete despair. Death was the only thing I could
                hope for. What course could I follow? What fate was in store
                
for us? ‘Did you think I could run away and leave my father
                here?’ I exclaimed. ‘How did such a sacrilege escape my father’s
660         lips? If the gods above decree that nothing of this great city is to
                survive, if your mind is fixed and it is your pleasure to add
                yourself and those you love to the destruction of the city, the
                door is open and the deaths you want will come. Pyrrhus will
                soon be here, soaked in the blood of Priam. He is the one who
                murders the son before the face of the father, and the father at
                the altar. O my loving mother, is this why you took me through
                fire and sword, so that I could see my enemy in the innermost
                sanctuary of my home, and Ascanius and my father and my wife
                Creusa with them lying sacrificed in each other’s blood? Bring
                me my armour, comrades. Bring it here. This is the last light we
670         shall see and it is calling the defeated. Give me back to the
                Greeks. Let me go back and rejoin the battle. Today we die. But
                not all of us shall die unavenged.’

                I buckled on my sword again and was fixing my left arm into
                the shield. But as I was leaving Creusa suddenly threw herself
                at my feet in the doorway and held me, stretching out our little
                son Iulus towards me. ‘If you are going to your death,’ she cried,
                ‘take us with you to share your fate, whatever it is. But if you
                have reason to put any hope in arms, your first duty is to guard
                this house. If you leave us here, what fate is waiting for little
                Iulus, for your father and for the woman who used to be called
                your wife?’

680         Her cries of anguish were filling the whole house, when suddenly
                there was a great miracle. At the very moment when we
                were both holding Iulus and he was there between our sorrowing
                faces, a light began to stream from the top of the pointed cap he
                was wearing and the flame seemed to lick his soft hair and feed
                round his forehead without harming him. We took fright and
                rushed to beat out the flames in his hair and quench the holy
                fire with water, but Father Anchises, looking joyfully up to the
                stars of heaven and raising his hands palms upward, lifted his
                voice in prayer: ‘O All-powerful Jupiter, if ever you yield to
690         prayers, look down upon us, that is all we ask, and if we deserve
                anything for our devotion, give us help at last, Father Jupiter,
                and confirm this omen.’

                
Scarcely had he spoken when a sudden peal of thunder rang
                out on the left and a star fell from the sky, trailing a great torch
                of light in its course through the darkness. We watched it glide
                over the topmost pinnacles of the house and bury itself, still
                bright, in the woods of Mount Ida, leaving its path marked out
                behind it, a broad furrow of light, and the whole place smoked
                all around with sulphur. Now at last my father was truly convinced.
700         He rose up and addressed the gods, praying to the sacred
                star: ‘There is now no more delay. Now I follow, O gods of my
                fathers. Wherever you lead, there am I. Preserve this house.
                Preserve my grandson. This is your sign. Troy is in your mighty
                hands. Anchises yields. I am willing to go with you, my son, and
                be your companion.’