“Thou art right,” answered Ajax. “Let us make another attempt, and if they retire but a little way, do thou and Meriones seize the corpse while the rest of us keep off the mighty Hector and the other Trojans.” This strategy partially succeeded and Menelaus and Meriones were able to drag the body some distance away. Meanwhile Achilles had been impatiently awaiting his tardy friend. He ascended to his usual post, the high deck of his ship, and saw, approaching through the twilight and clouds of dust, dense crowds which looked like fleeing men. It seemed to him that he could hear Hector’s triumphant voice pursuing the Achaians. An uneasy premonition seized him and he was about to send out a messenger when young Antilochus appeared before him and spake, weeping: “Woe is me, son of Peleus, I bring thee sad tidings. Patroclus is slain, and our warriors are fighting desperately for his naked body, for Hector has taken his weapons.” Achilles grew pale as death. He tore his hair with rage, beat his breast, and threw himself upon the ground, covering dress, face, and head with dust. His eyes flashed dangerously, his heart palpitated, and horrible groans escaped his half-open lips. His slaves gathered about him in affright; but when they learned the cause of his boundless sorrow, they all burst out weeping. Antilochus wept also and held the hero’s hands, fearing that the passionate man would harm himself. This terrible despair lasted a long time, but at last the overburdened heart found relief in tears and he broke out in loud lamentations. His mother Thetis heard him and arose from the depths of the sea to seat herself beside her unhappy son. She pressed his head to her bosom and inquired tenderly: “Dear child, what is troubling thee now? Do not conceal anything from me. Speak! Hath Jupiter not fulfilled thy wish and given the victory to the Trojans?” “What care I for the favor of Jupiter when Patroclus, whom I loved as myself, lies dead! Hector hath slain him and taken the armor, that splendid gift of my valiant father. For what a fate was I born! But, indeed, I will not live if I may not slay Hector and avenge the death of my friend.” “Glorious son,” said his mother, weeping, “when thou hast slain him it will be thy doom; for thy death is decreed immediately after Hector’s.” “Would that I were already dead,” answered Achilles gloomily, “as I was not permitted to save my friend. But I will avenge him and pay him such honor as no mortal has ever received before. Then let Jupiter do with me as he will. Death is the lot of all. Even great Hercules died, the best beloved of all Jupiter’s sons. But before Death takes me, many a Trojan woman shall lament that I have slain her son or young spouse. They shall all learn that my long rest is ended.”