to comfort him; and she
said, "Why weepest thou, my son? When Agamemnon did thee wrong, thou
didst pray that the Achaians might sorely need thy aid in the battle,
and thy wish has been accomplished. So may it be again." But Achilles
answered, "Of what profit is it to me, my mother, that my prayer has
been heard, since Patroclus, my friend, is slain, and Hector has my
armor? One thing only remains to me now. I will slay Hector and avenge
the slaughter of Patroclus." Then the tears ran down the cheeks of
Thetis as she said, "Then is thine own doom accomplished, for when
thou slayest Hector, thou hast not many days to live," "So then let it
be," said Achilles; "the mighty Herakles tasted of death; therefore
let me die also, so only Hector dies before me."

Then Thetis sought no more to turn him from his purpose, but she went
to the house of Hephaistos to get armor for her child in place of that
which Hector had taken from Patroclus. And Achilles vowed a vow that
twelve sons of the Trojans should be slain at the grave of his friend,
and that Hector should die before the funeral rites were done. Then
Agamemnon sent him gifts, and spake kindly words, so that the strife
between them might end, and Achilles now go forth to fight for the
Achaians. So, in the armor which Hephaistos had wrought at the prayer
of Thetis, he mounted his chariot, and bade his horses bring him back
safe from the battle-field. Then the horse Xanthos bowed his head, and
the long tresses of his mane flowed down to the earth as he made
answer, "We will in very truth save thee, O mighty Achilles; but thy
doom is near at hand, and the fault rests not with us now, or when we
left Patroclus dead on the battle-field, for Phoebus Apollo slew him
and gave the glory and the arms to Hector." And Achilles said, "Why
speak to me of evil omens? I know that I shall see my father and my
mother again no more; but if I must die in a strange land, I will
first take my fill of vengeance."

Then the war-cry of Achilles was heard again, and a mighty life was
poured into the hearts of the Achaians, as they seized their arms at
the sound. Thick as withering leaves in autumn fell the Trojans
beneath his unerring spear. Chief after chief was smitten down, until
their hosts fell in terror within the walls of Ilion. Only Hector
awaited his coming, but the shadow of death was stealing over him, for
Phoebus Apollo had forsaken the great champion of Troy because Zeus so
willed it. S