keep out in a wider circle.  But Apollo sustained Hector’s strength and would not let him sink in weariness.  Then Pallas, assuming the form of Deiphobus, Hector’s bravest brother, appeared suddenly at his side.  Hector saw him with delight, and thus strengthened stopped his flight and turned to meet Achilles.  Hector threw his spear, which struck the shield of Achilles and bounded back.  He turned to receive another from the hand of Deiphobus, but Deiphobus was gone.  Then Hector understood his doom and said, “Alas! it is plain this is my hour to die!  I thought Deiphobus at hand, but Pallas deceived me, and he is still in Troy.  But I will not fall inglorious,” So saying he drew his falchion from his side and rushed at once to combat.  Achilles, secured behind his shield, waited the approach of Hector.  When he came within reach of his spear, Achilles choosing with his eye a vulnerable part where the armor leaves the neck uncovered, aimed his spear at that part and Hector fell, death-wounded, and feebly said, “Spare my body!  Let my parents ransom it, and let me receive funeral rites from the sons and daughters of Troy.”  To which Achilles replied, “Dog, name not ransom nor pity to me, on whom you have brought such dire distress.  No! trust me, naught shall save thy carcass from the dogs.  Though twenty ransoms and thy weight in gold were offered, I would refuse it all.”

So saying he stripped the body of its armor, and fastening cords to the feet tied them behind his chariot, leaving the body to trail along the ground.  Then mounting the chariot he lashed the steeds and so dragged the body to and fro before the city.  What words can tell the grief of King Priam and Queen Hecuba at this sight!  His people could scarce restrain the old king from rushing forth.  He threw himself in the dust and besought them each by name to give him way.  Hecuba’s distress was not less violent.  The citizens stood round them weeping.  The sound of the mourning reached the ears of Andromache, the wife of Hector, as she sat among her maidens at work, and anticipating evil she went forth to the wall.  When she saw the sight there presented, she would have thrown herself headlong from the wall, but fainted and fell into the arms of her maidens.  Recovering, she bewailed her fate, picturing to herself her country ruined, herself a captive, and her son dependent for his bread on the charity of strangers.

When Achilles and the Greeks had taken their revenge on the killer of Patroclus they busied themselves in paying due funeral rites to their friend.  A pile was erected, and the body burned with due solemnity; and then ensued games of strength and skill, chariot races, wrestling, boxing, and archery.  Then the chiefs sat down to the funeral banquet and after that retired to rest.  But Achilles neither partook of the feast nor of sleep.  The recollection of his lost friend kept him awake, remembering their companionship in toil and dangers, in battle or on the perilous deep.  Before the earliest dawn he left his tent, and joining to his chariot his swift steeds, he fastened Hector’s body to be dragged behind.  Twice he dragged him around the tomb of Patroclus, leaving him at length stretched in the dust.  But Apollo would not permit the body to be torn or disfigured with all this abuse, but preserved it free from all taint or defilement.