Becoming the Best of the Achaians; The Divine Armors of Achilleus

Becoming the Best of the Achaians

The Divine Armors of Achilleus.

In the modern age, greaves, empty breastplates, and hollow helmets are all that remain of the warriors of the bronze age. The spectator gazes upon these wondering about the men who fought inside, attempting to imagine how they looked, how they lived, and how they died. The spectator searches endlessly for the identity of these men, all the while unaware that an essential piece already lies before them, behind that glass. It exists in the intimately hammered bronze, once lovingly crafted and adorned to fit the shape of the man beneath. In a world affected by the modern western military, it is easy to make the mistake of thinking that a warrior and his armor are separate. There is a general concept that armor was simply a tool, much the same as our modern kevlar. This could not be further from the truth. Once understood that the warrior and his garniture are inextricably linked, the symbolism of The Iliad becomes clearer, and the actions, conflicts, and identities of its heroes gain  power and weight. The inner conflict of Achilleus is personified through the various characters who act out his agony. Each are clad in the divine armor shaped for a torn and grieving youth who must make the decision between sweet life, or the death of a warrior. This is the story of a man who attempts to alter his fate, and in doing so, ensures it.

We live in an age of outsourced labor and imported goods. As a result, the connections we have to our possessions are superficial at best, a result of the expendability enabled by cheap production and resources. Coinciding with this, our military makes it a priority to remove as much of a soldier's individual identity as possible, to further maximize the efficiency of the unit. They wear matching uniforms and armor mass produced in factories. As an overarching cultural theme, these factors make it difficult for modern man to fully comprehend the warrior's attachment to his gear as much more than frivolous vanity. Upon further investigation, the link becomes much more understandable, and the warrior's relation to his panoply becomes almost symbiotic. This is exemplified by the armor of Achilleus, and is crucial to the role it plays in his story.

Armor in the ancient world was quite difficult to produce not only because of the qualities of the medium, but the creative process itself. Most importantly, armor had to fit perfectly the one for whom it was made. It is this inherent value which causes the heroes in The Iliad to fight incessantly to claim the bodies of fallen opponents in hopes of stripping the armor they wore.

  It is important to distinguish between the two suits of armor belonging to Achilleus. The first, which he never wears in the context of The Iliad, was a wedding gift, made for his father Peleus by Hephaistos, in honor of his marriage to Thetis. This gifting of arms represented the combatative nature of Peleus' conquest of Thetis, though it is given in honor of the “cathartic” joy of marriage. The armor was given in turn to Achilleus, which he brought with him to Ilion. The second, a replacement after the loss of the Pelian armor to Hektor, was given directly to Achilleus by Hephaistos. This is a different suit altogether, and its role as a “replacement” for the Pelian armor is essential. 

  Firstly, both suits possess a value well beyond that of armor built in a factory. Armor was built by craftsmen who excelled beyond others in the intricate mastery required to manufacture metal capable of resisting the stresses of battle. This was a fact which the people of the Mycenaean period would have been well aware. For example, there is a constant referral to “the strong greaved Achaians” in The Iliad. Greaves, aside from helmets, were the most difficult pieces of armor to produce, and the greaves which survive today from the Mycenaean period demonstrate their value. The greaves of the basileis were not strapped or laced to the body, but “sprung” on–held by the fact that the greave was so carefully molded to the calf.  Armorers and the pieces they crafted were held in great esteem, and their irreplaceable nature is well reflected in the “mortal” panoplies of the other basileis of The Iliad. Even among these men there is an endless struggle to strip a fallen enemy of his kit, a valuable addition to the wealth of the victor. 

  However, armor served as far more than a signifier of wealth. In the ancient world armor was a symbol of identity. It was not merely the mark of a warrior, but represented both the man and his kleos. It is important to make a distinction between the two, as they are not one and the same. There exists the title of warrior, but that is not the same as the deeds done by the warrior. Achilleus, when we meet him, is indeed a great fighter, but he has not yet won his kleos, the great story for which he shall be remembered. Therefore, it is possible to be a warrior, but have no glory, or identity. 

  The stripping of a fallen opponent's armor is the stripping of his kleos, which shall then be added to that of the victor's. This was not an unconscious act, but quite deliberate. The awareness of this exchange would be best exemplified by Hektor's challenge to “The Greatest (or Best) of the Achaians” in book seven. Hektor sets the terms of victory; that the victor will take the other man's armor, and the defeated man's kleos shall be appropriated by him–an addition to his own aristeia. 

  But if I take his life, and Apollo grant me the glory,

I will strip his armor and carry it to sacred Ilion

and hang it in front of the temple of far striking Apollo,

but his corpse I will give back among the strong–benched vessels

so that the flowing haired Achaians may give him due burial

and heap up a mound upon him beside the broad passage of Helle.

And some day one of the men will come to say, as he sees it,

one who in his benched ship sails on the wine–blue water;

'This is the mound of a man who died long ago in battle,

who was one of the bravest , and glorious Hektor killed him.'

So he will speak some day, and my glory will not be forgotten. 

Interestingly enough, when Hektor later slays Patroklos, he reneges on this vow, and he fights to take the body with no intention of returning it. This may be read as a recognition of the inadequacy of Patroklos who merely masquerades as the “Best of the Achaians.” Nevertheless, Hektor strips the body, and takes the identity of Achilleus, casting aside the man who wore it.

  Serving as a metaphor of the symbiotic nature of the warrior and his kit, armor is formed to the unique structure of each man. The attention to finesse would have varied through the classes, but as a basileus, Achilleus' armor would have been of the highest quality, and would have fitted he for whom it was carefully made. The ease with which the armor passes through the characters (from Peleus, to Achilleus, to Patroklos, to Hektor, and Odysseus in Sophocles' Ajax) would imply that the wearers fit the armor, not the other way around. As a gift from father to son, (two men who share genetic similarities) this would be plausible, but from friend to friend, and then to enemy is less so. Hektor strips the armor from Patroklos, and immediately places it upon his own body. This implausibility would have been recognizable to a public which was familiar with arms and warfare, specifically that of the period in which The Iliad was composed. Therefore, it cannot be ignored as simply a plot device. In this scenario, there are implications of a triality between Achilleus, Patroklos and Hektor–a triality which serves to enrich the central figure.

  The divine nature of the armor enhances the suit to a level beyond that of his fellow basileis, as well as the abilities of the wearer. In essence, it empowers that warrior, as shown by the abilities it grants Patroklos. To Achilleus however, the armor (as a manifestation of his own identity) is a piece of his divinity rather than a mere supplement to it. This is contrasted and clarified by the great Pelian spear he wields. While this spear has been granted powers of its own, it is clear that it may only be carried by a warrior who is spiritually adequate and physically capable. When Patroklos takes the armor of Achilleus, he leaves behind the great spear, unable to wield so divine an object. 

The Pelian spear itself is a weapon of great heroes, having been passed down from Peleus to Achilleus.

He took up two powerful spears that fitted his hand's grip

only he did not take the spear of blameless Aiakides,

huge, heavy, thick, which no one else of all the Achaians

could handle, but Achilleus alone knew how to wield it;

the Pelian ash spear which Cheiron had brought to his father 

from high on Pelion to be death for fighters.   

  The Pelian armor may be worn by a few, but the deeds and the tools with which they are done belong to the hero alone. Thusly, Patroklos must leave behind the instruments which Achilleus uses to garner his time. Even Achilleus is aware of this, as he speaks to Patroklos of what he should do to avoid dishonoring him.

But obey to the end this word I put upon your attention

so that you can win, for me, great honor and glory

in the sight of all the Danaans, so they will bring back to me

the lovely girl, and give me shining gifts in addition.

When you have driven them from the ships, come back; although later

the thunderous lord of Hera might grant you the winning of glory,

you must not set your mind on fighting the Trojans, whose delight

is in battle, without me. So you will diminish my honor.

  Achilleus is recognizing the transferral of identity to Patroklos. He no longer sees him as a completely separate entity, as he asks Patroklos to claim for him the glory he has left behind. To do so, he must imbue Patroklos with his former divine identity, the armor he has cast off. Yet Patroklos can only ever be a shadow of Achilleus, as indicated by his inability to use the great hereditary spear. Achilleus recognizes this as well, and warns his companion not to press the Trojans for fear not only of death, but also the sacrifice of his own time.

Achilleus also fears that Patroklos may only be able to fight when he himself is present.

For see, I myself am staying where the ships are assembled,

but I send out my companion and many Myrmidons with him

to fight. Let glory, Zeus of the wide brows, go forth with him.

Make brave the heart inside his breast, so that even Hektor

will find out whether our henchman knows how to fight his battles

by himself, or whether his hands rage invincibly only

those times when I myself go into the grind of the war god. 

  This lends credence to the concept of a duality between Achilleus and Patroklos. The appearance of Patroklos in The Iliad is clearly not one of a great warrior. How is it then that he may wear the identity of Achilleus and fight in his stead, achieving deeds which are reminiscent of the greater man? They even share kleos, identity, and are eventually entombed in the same urn, as the shade of Patroklos requests in book XXIII. In this passage Achilleus recognizes that Patroklos' strength may be reliant on his own. When Patroklos dies, his death spurs Achilleus to immense grief and self degradation with the acts of shearing of his own hair and smearing himself with ashes. This implies a bond beyond that of simple friendship. While Patroklos has been often depicted as the lover of Achilleus, it is clear that there exists between the two a greater intimacy– an intimacy which gives Achilleus faith enough to entrust Patroklos with his hereditary armor. Quite tellingly, this intimacy enables him to see past the same blind rage which makes him so apathetic to others, even his own friend and surrogate father, Phoinix. A guest-friend in the household of Peleus, Phoinix was responsible for the welfare of Achilleus from the hero's early childhood through the Troad. If Achilleus cannot be swayed by this man to whom he owes everything, there must exist an immense bond between he and Patroklos–a bond which goes beyond companionship.

  One signifier of this duality lies within the first appearance of Patroklos as an active character within The Iliad. He first appears when Phoinix and Odysseus go to Achilleus, supplicating him to return to battle. In this scene, Patroklos is no more than a silent figure preparing a feast for the guests.  Achilleus continues his tirade against Agamemnon, but we also see a glimmer of his true humanity. We learn that Achilleus in truth wishes to return home. At this point, when Achilleus has cast off the identity of the warrior and is instead acting the part of a civilian, Patroklos appears. When Achilleus coldly refuses to take pity on his fellow Achaians, Patroklos is present, the physical manifestation of Achilleus' mercy and humanity, though he is separated from him. While Patroklos represents that humanity which Achilleus lacks, he is physically a fragile and separate humanity, detached from Achilleus, and easily lost. He is the humanity to which Achilleus clings, but cannot have, as he is destined for war. When Achilleus returns to the fighting, it is only because that gentle piece of his identity and conscience has been lost to him. For Achilleus to lose Patroklos is to lose his humanity. To also lose his armor is to lose his identity. If his identity as a warrior has been removed, as well as his humanity, he has been stripped of everything besides his rage and his nemesis, Hektor.  It is this last piece of his identity that Achilleus fixates upon destroying, thus sealing his own fate and realizing his kleos.

The death of Patroklos as a therapon, or sacrificial substitute is also quite important. While it may seem that his death was mere accident, there is an underlying plot devised by Nestor, the military advisor to Agamemnon. It is Nestor who advises Patroklos to assume the mantle of Achilleus in order to push back the Trojans. This would seem innocent enough, until one considers the tale of Lykourgos, told by Nestor when Hektor makes his challenge to the champions in book seven. He tells of a great warrior Areithoos who gives his henchman Ereuthalion his armor to wear when he can no longer fight. Ereuthalion goes out to fight the forces of which Nestor himself is a part. All the soldiers turn and run, believing the man to be Areithoos, but Nestor sees through the trick, and slays Ereuthalion. 

This tale is meant to give the Greeks confidence to fight a greater man, but also serves to foreshadow the death of Patroklos. It also means that Nestor himself is aware of the danger of this plan. Consider then the events which are sure to follow. Nestor knows that Achilleus holds Patroklos dear, and he most be aware of the henchman's inadequacy. He must also know that if Patroklos is slain, that Achilleus will be spurred to battle, the very thing which he and Agamemnon have been trying to cause.  Therefore, Patroklos becomes a sacrificial character, however unwitting.

There is another important piece in this progression, and that is the inadequacy of the Pelian armor. Consider the concept of a symbiosis between armor and the man. The Pelian armor may account for Patroklos' strength, but not that of Achilleus, as it is unable to make Patroklos capable of carrying his spear. Achilleus' hereditary armor, worn by a mortal such as his father, is unsuitable as a symbiote. It was made for a mortal, but not for the son of a goddess such as Achilleus. This has great implications for the advancement of Achilleus' character. If Achilleus' armor is not suitable as an extension of his divinity,  he cannot realizing his full potential. While Achilleus has attributes belonging to his father, (his mortality) he possesses a greater inheritance of his mother's divinity (his prowess in combat, as well as his apathetic views towards humanity). The armor of Peleus is a piece of an identity which he certainly possesses, but to a smaller degree than the gifts of his mother. This lends great power to the figure of Achilleus when he is at last united with a suitable garniture, one which fully complements his divine attributes, and allows him to be that for which he was born.

  The character of Hektor is essential in The Iliad; for much of the poem it takes center stage. Although the story may ultimately belong to Achilleus, it is Hektor's life to which the reader is exposed, not that of the former. This begs the question, why commit so much to the character of the man who is the enemy of the hero, while leaving the latter so enigmatic? On the one hand it is reflective of the Ionian tendency towards cultural relativism in its investigation of both sides of a conflict. On the other, Hektor's significant presence is much more than a mere perspective–it provides further meaning to his own death, not because of its own inherent tragedy, but because of what it symbolizes for Achilleus.

  Hektor provides us with a characteristic of the warrior represented by no other hero in The Iliad; the warrior at home. Hektor has everything that Achilleus does not, although he has far more similarities to Achilleus than may initially be seen. The two are linked in one very important way. Hektor, like Achilleus, is fated to die in war. Not only are both men doomed, but it is a death of their own creation. Hektor knows that Troy will fall. If Troy falls, so will he. In his words to his wife, Andromache,

. . . yet I would feel deep shame

before the Trojans, and the Trojan women with trailing garments,

if like a coward I were to shrink aside from the fighting;

and the spirit will not let me, since I have learned to be valiant

and to fight always among the foremost ranks of the Trojans,

winning for my own self great glory, and for my father.

For I know this thing well in my heart, and my mind knows it;

there will come a day when sacred Ilion shall perish.

and Priam, and the people of Priam of the strong ash spear.   

Achilleus also knows that he is fated to die because of this war. The difference is that while Hektor accepts his death, and moves toward it, Achilleus does not. Instead he hides from battle, while Hektor relentlessly throws himself into the teeming fray. When the two finally face one another in combat, the role has been reversed. Now it is Hektor who runs, while Achilleus pursues, armed with the knowledge that with Hektor's death must come his own. In other words, by chasing Hektor, he chases his own death. This similarity of plight, coupled with the contrast, is a factor of Hektor's duality with Achilleus.

The characteristic which Hektor represents is that of the warrior at home; the warrior who has everything, and defends it. Achilleus is never depicted at home, even though the thought of home is ever-present in his mind. Instead, we must turn our attention to Hektor, and his relationship with his homeland. Hektor speaks often and openly of his worries and fears with his wife, Andromache. He has a son, Astyanax, the future of his family. Hektor interacts with these privileges of a “civilian” life (that is, a life outside of war) which are so often taken for granted, but which many warriors (especially those abroad) cannot have. Achilleus is not only devoid, but stripped of any such joys. In this sense, Hektor, as a man, is more complete. When we first encounter Achilleus he is robbed of Briseis, whom he calls “the bride of my heart.” He longs to return home, to the beautiful women of Phthia, to a father and son, but his fate disallows it. Hektor returns home after each battle to these joys, but they are ill fated. When Achilleus finally kills Hektor, his keeping of the body, (an act displayed by no other warrior in The Iliad) could be seen as an attempt to strip the things from Hektor which he himself knows he will never have, most importantly, a homecoming.

  Hektor, by representing all that Achilleus might have, embodies the choice presented to Achilleus of a long life. As long as Achilleus allows Hektor to live, he will have the option to return to Phthia. If he kills Hektor, he will lose this future. Achilleus has encountered Hektor before this on the battlefield, but they have never fought. The duration of time (nine years) during which Hektor and he haven't fought implies avoidance, not chance, especially considering the frequency with which Hektor encounters the other heroes. This avoidance is driven by Achilleus' desire to live. Therefore, for Achilleus to finally confront his nemesis bears great weight. It is, in essence, a divine suicide.

Of course, the most blatant link between Hektor and Achilleus is the armor. Thus far, the armor of Achilleus fits both him and Patroklos, and there is a transferral of identity when Patroklos wears it. After assuming Achilleus' divine identity, Patroklos goes on a rampage of his own, and we see a glimmer of what Achilleus may have been prior to the events of The Iliad. When Hektor wears the armor there is no difference in his abilities. If anything, Hektor becomes more fearful, whereas Patroklos gains self confidence. This would seem bizarre considering the concept of triality and the transferral of identity up to this point. The varying effect of the armor on the wearer may be explained by the status (and the defilement thereof) of the Pelian identity in the context of the Iliadic world.

Peleus was a great hero in his own right, who achieved a great deed which few mortal men had; the rape of a goddess. It is important to recall the prophesy surrounding the marriage of Thetis. Tradition states that originally Zeus himself had designs on Thetis, until he learned that to the man who coupled with her would be born a son who would be greater than he. To Zeus, who had overthrown his own father, (who had in turn deposed his) this was a fearful idea, and so he influenced the hero Peleus to do so in his stead. Achilleus, as the result of the coupling of Peleus and Thetis is fated by birth to surpass his father in greatness.

  At the dawning of The Iliad, Achilleus has not yet achieved his great kleos, the one which he shall be known for. This of course is the destruction of Hektor. Essentially, Achilleus has not yet proven himself a greater hero than his father. He wears the inherited kleos of his father, and has yet to perform the feat which will grant him his own. The death of Hektor (and subsequently his own death) is the price of the glory he was fated to gain. In a sense, the glory had already been purchased, but the price has yet to be paid. We come now to the greatest conundrum of all; the suicide of Achilleus through the slaying of Hektor. If Hektor represents all that Achilleus could have had, his death means the death of all things which Achilleus had previously desired. This signifies the greatest shift in Achilleus' character. It is clear that while Achilleus desired a homecoming, his remaining on the shore is suspect. Could it be that Achilleus, while desperately craving a return was in fact incapable by decree of his fate to do so? Even Thetis refers to his inevitable doom, saying that he was born for it. 

. . . Your birth was bitterness. Why did I raise you?

If only you could sit by your ships untroubled, not weeping,

since indeed your lifetime is to be short, of no length.

Now it has befallen that your life must be brief and bitter

beyond all men's. To a bad destiny I bore you in my chambers.  

Defilement plays a large role in this progression. When Hektor receives the armor of Achilleus, it has been dishonored by the death of Patroklos, in that the divine armor has tasted defeat at the hands of a lesser man than for whom it was intended. As a metaphor and manifestation, the armor's perfection is marred by the dust. When Patroklos dies, and the great helmet falls, it is noted that the fate of the armor is defilement, by divine intervention.

Phoibos Apollo now struck away from his head the helmet

four horned and hollow eyed, and under the feet of the horses

it rolled clattering, and the plumes above it were defiled

by blood and dust. Before this time it had not been permitted

to defile in the dust this great helmet crested in horse hair;

rather it guarded the head and gracious brow of a godlike

man, Achilleus; but now Zeus gave it over to Hektor

to wear on his head, Hektor whose own death was close to him.

Hektor receives only the dishonored and mortal identity of Achilleus. In truth, Hektor's armor already grants him divinity of a kind. This divinity is displayed conspicuously close to the moment he assumes the armor of Achilleus– even as his men are stripping it from the body of Patroklos. He roams the ranks of the Trojan army, his own helmet flashing like “the flame of Hephaistos.” When he dons the armor, he casts off his own glorious identity to wear only the corrupted armorial identity of Achilleus. “His shining helm,” as it is so often described, is replaced by the helm of Achilleus, tarnished by the dust in which it has been unprecedentedly defiled.

Achilleus displays great dismay at the loss of his previous identity, bemoaning his very birth.  This can be read as Achilleus knowing now that he must fulfill the destiny he was born for, and as a result cursing the cruel fate which has been forced upon him–a fate he can no longer avoid. The cruelest twist of all is that his fate was sealed not through the death of Patroklos, but in his very decision to withdraw from the army, and his callous prayer that the Achaians suffer heavy losses. He is all too aware of this in his speech to his mother in book seventeen.

Then sighing heavily Achilleus of the swift feet answered her:

“My mother, all these things the Olympian brought to accomplishment 

But what pleasure is this to me, since my dear companion has perished,

Patroklos, whom I loved beyond all other companions,

as well as my own life. I have lost him, and Hektor, who killed him,

has stripped away that gigantic armor, a wonder to look on

and splendid, which the gods gave Peleus, a glorious present,

on that day that drove you to the marriage bed of a mortal.

I wish you had gone on living then with the other goddesses

of the sea, and that Peleus had married some mortal woman.

As it is there must be on your heart a numberless sorrow

for your son's death, since you can never again receive him

won home again to his country; since the spirit within does not drive me

to go on living and be among men, except on condition

that Hektor first be beaten down under my spear, lose his life

and pay the price for stripping Patroklos, the son of Menoitios.

  When Achilleus loses his hereditary armor, he of course requires a new panoply. In other words, he has lost his identity, and needs a new one. Additionally, the nature of the loss sets in motion the events which will grant him a kleos far greater than that of Peleus. The cruelty of Patroklos' demise and his hand in it's making spurs him towards death without thought of home. He needs armor (identity) suitable for the occasion. The only armor which may surpass that of his father must be forged by the same hands which forged his father's, as those are the only hands capable. The new armor of Achilleus is by far grander, as he must transcend the boundaries of mortality to eclipse his father. His identity has become one of divinity, therefore he needs armor which manifests that identity. 

The new Armor of Achilleus is worn during the only point in the book in which he himself engages in violence against the Trojans. Like his armor, his fury is also divine. His aspect is of flames,  the only element capable of embodying the dreadful and destructive wrath which he personifies. When Achilleus first dons the armor, he literally becomes a beacon of fiery light.

And as when from across water a light shines to mariners

from a blazing fire, when the fire is burning high in the mountains

in a desolate steading, as the mariners are carried unwilling 

by storm winds over the fish–swarming sea, far away from their loved ones;

so the light from the fair elaborate shield of Achilleus 

shot into the high air. And lifting the helm he set it

massive upon his head, and the helmet crested with horse–hair

shone like a star, the golden fringes were shaken about it

which Hephaistos had driven close along the horn of the helmet.

Hektor  himself speaks of Achilleus and of his divinity, calling into words yet again the simile of fire.

I am going to stand against him now, though his hands are like flame,

though his hands are like flame, and his heart like the shining of iron.  

  Throughout The Iliad, Achilleus has been compared to several beasts, but beasts are of the physical realm. Fire, as an element in ancient Greece has more metaphysical value. It is essential in the Greek ritual of sacrifice, as the bridge between worlds. Like fire, Achilleus transcends the limits of mortality, and in doing so makes his mortal existence that much shorter. 

  Until the death of Patroklos, Achilleus bore the manifestation of his fate in the form of the armor of Peleus. Even if he could have returned home, Achilleus is, above all else, a warrior. He bears the predetermined identity, the one forged before his birth, destined to fit him. The armor was not so much made for him, as he was made for it, a tragic reminder that no man may escape his fate. When he attempts to do so, the product is a perversion of his former self, a perversion in the shape of an inadequate imitation, who sacrifices himself in an attempt to reconcile Achilleus with his fate. Patroklos, as part of a duality is incomplete without Achilleus, just as Achilleus is incomplete without his armor. Achilleus, as the central figure of the trio, is not reliant on Patroklos for his identity. In a literary sense, Patroklos only exists in reference to Achilleus. His presence in The Iliad is dependent on the story of Achilleus. If Achilleus had never withdrawn, it is doubtful that Patroklos would have ever appeared in a role other than a henchman. Hektor, meanwhile has his own story, his own kleos, his own aristeia. He is not so much a plot device as he is a character in his own right, and arguably more complete than Achilleus. Hektor has all things, whereas Achilleus has only war, and Patroklos. He forsakes war, loses Patroklos, and all he has left is vengeance. When he kills Hektor, the object of his vengeance, he loses everything. At last, Achilleus has achieved what he must to truly become the “Best of the Achaians.” He has achieved a state in which he has nothing to live for, no price for which he would rather live, nothing which could possibly be used to influence him to return to a civilian life. 

  In the end of The Iliad, we are left with a very different Achilleus, one whose youthfulness and petulance has been replaced by an embittered and disillusioned man. He is at last reconciled with his fate, at last capable of overlooking even the greatest of quarrels to return the body of Hektor, and engage with the great enemy of all Achaians, Priam, in a final catharsis.

  The twenty–fourth book of The Iliad signifies the return of Achilleus to the identity of a mortal man. We will never again see Achilleus don the fantastical armor of Hephaistos, and indeed, the duration of his life after The Iliad is relatively unknown. Like the armor of his father, Achilleus casts off the identity of divinity, his use for it exhausted. When Priam comes to the camp of the Myrmidons, he finds Achilleus a grim man. Achilleus' wrath towards Agamemnon and towards Hektor has begun to falter. He does not fight–rather, he drags the body of Hektor around Patroklos' burial mound. He has lost his companion, his human identity, and subsequently, his nemesis. He has nothing to live or die for, as the one thing that was as dear to him as life has perished. 

When Priam appeals to Achilleus, he appeals to his homesickness. He reminds Achilleus of his father who will never see him again. 

But now Priam spoke to him in the words of a suppliant:

Achilleus like the gods, remember your father, one who

is of years like mine, and on the door–sill of sorrowful old age.

And they who dwell nearby encompass him  and afflict him,

nor is there any to defend him against the wrath, the destruction.

Yet surely he, when he hears of you and that you are still living,

is gladdened within his heart and all his days he is hopeful,

that he will see his beloved son come home from the Troad. . .

. . .So he spoke, and stirred in the other a passion for grieving

for his own father. He took the old man's hand and pushed him

gently away, and the two remembered, as Priam sat huddled 

at the feet of Achilleus and wept close for manslaughtering Hektor

and Achilleus wept now for his own father , Now again 

for Patroklos. 

  Achilleus in turn will never see his own son, Neoptolemus, just as Hektor will never again hold  Astyanax. In the end, Achilleus returns Hektor's body, unable to continue defiling it. This is the catharsis of Achilleus, the man who tried to escape his fate, and who is now resigned to it. The Iliad ends with the homecoming and burial of the body of Hektor, at last putting to rest the final piece of the kleos of “The Best of the Achaians.” In the end of the tale, all that is left of the brief, wrathful, and glorious divinity of Achilleus are the greaves, empty breastplate and hollow helmet, and story of the man who wore them. At last, fate is fulfilled.

Bibliography

Graves, Robert. The Greek Myths. London, Penguin Press, 1955

Homer, The Iliad. Trans. Richmond Lattimore. Chicago, The University of Chicago Press, 2011.

Nagy, Gregory. The Best of the Achaeans, Concepts of the Hero in Archaic Greek Poetry. Baltimore: John's Hopkins University Press, 1979.