While the battle raged between the wall and the ships Patroclus was sitting in Eurypylus’ tent nursing his wounded friend. But he dared not remain long, for fear of arousing Achilles’ anger. He felt that he must see how his friends were faring, and his heart urged him to persuade Achilles to come to the rescue of the Achaians at last. He left the tent and gazed with horror upon the dreadful battleground. He saw Hector rush forward with a flaming torch and try to fire a ship, but the Achaians turned aside the fatal missile. Ajax of Salamis stood upon the deck and thrust down with his lance all who bore a burning brand. Hector aimed his javelin at him, but it struck Lykophron, who stood beside him. Ajax then called upon Teucer: “Look, brother, our friend has fallen by Hector’s hand! Where is thy avenging arrow?” Teucer hastily climbed up with his bow and with the first arrow struck Klitus from his chariot. He then selected a second and sharper arrow for Hector and, as he was quite near to him, would doubtless have pierced him had the cord of his bow not broken just as he was in the act of drawing it. “Woe is me!” he cried. “A god brings all our attempts to naught and must have broken this cord, a newly twisted one, which I put on this morning.” Hector had seen the accident, accepted it as a favorable omen, and cheered on his men. “Let everyone fight with all his might, for the Olympian Jove is with us. And if ye fall it shall be a glorious death for the women and children of Troy, and surely the Trojans shall recompense ye as soon as the Achaians are driven away.” Where Hector rushed in, the troops huddled together like a herd of sheep before a wolf. None dared defend himself, but bowed his head in terror, and trembling, received his deathblow with averted face. The hero’s fluttering plumes were like a lion’s mane and his eyes flashed fury under his dark brows. Fear and shame kept the Achaians together. They continually encouraged one another. Nestor particularly besought the people to make one last attempt.