On the other side,
The heroes' meeting still hadn't produced a final decision on who would wear Achilles's armor.
But on the idea of having someone impersonate Achilles, almost everyone agreed.
When Agamemnon sent word of this command to the isolated camp where Achilles had withdrawn,
"The nerve of them!!"
Boom!!
A terrifying aura surged off the demigod, and he brought his sword down on a steel shield, which shattered and flew apart on impact.
The messenger who delivered the order ran off as fast as his legs would carry him.
Achilles made up his mind on the spot. He would never let Agamemnon's shameless plan succeed.
He was not going to let any other hero get their hands on his prized armor.
Nobody had the right to inherit his beloved weapons and armor.
Nobody.
As a certain saying went, treat your weapon like a lover.
In this enormous Greek camp, who was worthy of sharing a lover with Achilles?
At this moment, the demigod stood with something blazing in his eyes, hesitated more than once, and nearly just picked up his spear and went straight to the main camp to drag Agamemnon to his throne.
But then the memory of Athena's appearance that day came back to him, and he knew well enough that he couldn't beat the goddess of war.
The fire in him hit cold water, and his face shifted into something deeply sorrowful.
And just then, at the very moment.
His dearest friend arrived.
Patroclus.
While Night was still giving Ajax his quiet lesson,
The elder Nestor on the other side wasn't sitting still either.
Say what you will about him; even though Nestor didn't know Night, the undercover traitor inside the camp, even existed, that didn't stop the old man from following his own purpose and moving tirelessly.
Just as the myths told it, just as the Iliad recorded,
When most heroes were blinded by greed, Nestor thought of the same thing Night did.
But while Night had a god's-eye view and foreknowledge to work from, Nestor stepped outside the situation on his own, thought it through with cool, precise reasoning, and found the same key.
When he watched Agamemnon send men to Achilles the moment the meeting ended,
He already knew it wouldn't work.
Agamemnon's approach was like a rival showing up to taunt someone directly in the face.
The only way that succeeded was if something went very wrong with the world.
What made Nestor feel exhausted was that this reckless king probably put more effort into making Achilles miserable than actually following through on the plan itself.
And yet Nestor, who wanted nothing more than for Greece to win this war, went back to cleaning up after the king of Mycenae once again.
He didn't go to Achilles directly. He went to Patroclus first.
Then, exactly as the Iliad described,
Because mighty Hector would not cease from battle until the swift-footed son of Peleus rose from beside the ships, and on that day the Argives would fight in terrible distress around the body of Patroclus, for that was fated.
Although Nestor didn't possess Night's foresight and didn't know the exact ending.
But he understood perfectly well what dangers Patroclus would face if he put on that armor.
And yet he told Patroclus anyway.
Even if you and Achilles are both angry, I don't mind saying this, but he should let you take the Myrmidons into battle.
Perhaps it would give the Danaans a hope of salvation.
Have him let you wear his fine armor. The Trojans may mistake you for him and hold back from fighting.
Patroclus was stunned and flattered.
All those heroes at the meeting had been arguing over who got to wear Achilles's armor, and yet the most respected elder among them, Nestor himself, was backing him?
In that moment, blinded by honor and glory and desire, Patroclus felt as though the mantle of destined hero had settled on his shoulders and no one else would do.
When Nestor said, "Only you are qualified to persuade Achilles; only you are worthy of wearing your friend's armor and stepping onto the battlefield,"
A deeply moved Patroclus needed no further convincing and ran immediately along the ships to find Achilles, son of Aeacus.
All that could be said about Patroclus was that while he wasn't particularly strong and didn't have many standout qualities, his imagination certainly ran wild.
In addition, he and Achilles were very close.
In the original events, if Patroclus hadn't gotten so full of himself and hadn't charged headlong into the heart of the enemy lines three separate times in divine armor without backup, he wouldn't have given Hector the opening to finish him before anyone else could have even reacted.
Someone like this, a complete clown with no real self-awareness, got two compliments from Nestor and genuinely started believing he was something great.
When he reached Achilles's camp by the shore and found Achilles still furious, he read the room completely wrong and just launched into a breathless, excited plea to his friend.
Patroclus wasn't entirely stupid.
Or rather, clownish as he was, he knew that asking outright would probably get him refused.
So he put on a sorrowful face and said, "Achilles! My dearest friend! These days you aren't on the battlefield; you don't see how terrible things have gotten.
Our people have taken heavy losses. Even several of the heroes are seriously wounded. "
Achilles, who had been furious moments before, immediately shifted and started trying to comfort his friend. "Don't worry. Everything would be all right."
Patroclus let out a long sigh and, just as the Iliad recorded, said it.
"Son of Peleus, Achilles, our bravest man, if you still won't go out to fight,
Then let me take the Myrmidons and go to the field right now; perhaps we can save the Danaans.
And let me borrow your armor to wear into battle, so the Trojans may think I am you and hold off their attack on the exhausted Danaans."
But then Patroclus performed a show of reluctance, as though he couldn't bear to take something his friend treasured.
"Never mind, I can't take what you love most." As he spoke, he put on a look of bashful guilt.
This subtle, underhanded tactic worked perfectly on Achilles, who fell right into the trap, and just like that, the simple, righteous hero was completely manipulated.
The swift-footed Achilles burst out in angry indignation and told him.
"Zeus-nurtured Patroclus, what are you saying?
Even knowing what prophecy holds, I would not give it a second thought.
I stepped onto this battlefield anyway."
"I am not afraid of death.
"But I said my anger would not rest until the battle and the clamor reached my own ships.
So go and put on my famous armor and take the warlike Myrmidons into battle."
....
Achilles said he still had no intention of fighting on Agamemnon's behalf, but pushed into a corner, having been manipulated and guilt-tripped by his closest friend, Achilles slammed his hand down in furious declaration.
Fine. The armor should be lent. Nothing is stopping it today. Not even Zeus himself.
Achilles already started putting his armor on Patroclus.
He fitted the beautiful greaves on Patroclus's shins first, fastening them with silver clasps, then hung the dazzling, star-bright breastplate of the swift-footed grandson of Aeacus across his chest.
He hung the bronze sword with its silver-studded hilt across Patroclus's back, slung the great solid shield over his shoulder, and set the well-crafted battle helmet on his strong head, the horse-hair crest on top trembling terribly.
Finally, when Patroclus reached for two of the firm spears that felt right in his hand, an awkward moment arrived.
The great spear that came down from the flawless grandson of Aeacus, heavy and long and solid, could not be lifted by any of the Danaans. Only Achilles could wield it.
How could a cricket like Patcross possibly lift that?
And so,
Clang!!
When Night and Ajax arrived, they walked straight into an extremely embarrassing scene, the sound of a spear slipping from someone's grip and toppling the weapon rack.
.
.
.
(End of the Chapter)