Authors: Virgil
Meanwhile, after Juturna had advised her dear brother
440 Turnus to take the place of Lausus, he cut through the middle
of the ranks of warriors on his swift chariot, and as soon as he
saw his allies he called out: ‘Time now to stand down from the
fighting. I am the only one who attacks Pallas. Pallas is mine,
and mine alone. I wish his father were here to see it.’ So he
spoke and his allies left the ground clear as ordered. When the
Rutulians withdrew, Pallas marvelled at these proud commands
and stood amazed at the sight of Turnus, running his eyes all
over that mighty body, his grim stare taking it in part by part
from where he stood, and these were the words he hurled in
reply to the words of the insolent prince: ‘I shall win rich
renown today, either for stripping the corpse of the leader of
450 my country’s enemies, or else for a glorious death. My father
will bear the one fate as easily as the other. Do not waste your
threats on me.’ With these words he strode on to the level
ground in the middle of the battlefield, and the blood of the
Arcadians froze in their breasts. Turnus leapt down from his
chariot and prepared to come to close quarters on foot, flying
at him like a lion which has seen from some high vantage point
a bull practising for combat far away on the plain – this is how
Turnus appeared as he came on. Pallas made the first attack,
judging that Turnus would be within range of a spear-cast and
hoping that Fortune would favour the weaker for his daring.
Lifting up his voice to the wide expanse of heaven, he cried: ‘I
460 call upon you, Hercules of the stock of Alceus, by my father’s
table and by the friendship he offered you when you came as a
stranger to his home, stand at my side now as I set my hand to
this great task. May Turnus as he dies see me tear the blood-stained
armour off his body, and may the last sight he endures
be the face of the man who has defeated him!’ Hearing the
young warrior, Hercules checked the great groan rising from
the depths of his heart and the helpless tears streamed from his
eyes. Then Father Jupiter spoke these loving words to his son:
‘Each man has his allotted day. All life is brief and time once
past can never be restored. But the task of the brave man is to
470 enlarge his fame by his actions. So many sons of gods fell under
the high walls of Troy, and with them fell also my son Sarpedon.
Turnus too is called by his own destiny and has reached the
limits of the time he has been given.’ So he spoke and instantly
turned his eyes away from the Rutulian fields.
But Pallas hurled his spear with all his strength and tore his
bright sword from its enclosing scabbard. The spear flew and
fell where the armour stood highest on the shoulder of Turnus,
forcing its way through the edge of the shield and grazing at last
480 the skin of that huge body. Then Turnus took long aim at Pallas
with his steel-pointed hardwood spear and threw it saying:
‘Now see whether mine is any better at piercing!’ With a shuddering
blow it beat through the middle of the shield, through all
the plates of iron and of bronze and all the ox-hides that covered
it, and unchecked by the breastplate, it bored through that
mighty breast. In desperation Pallas tore the warm blade out of
the wound, and blood and life came out together after it, both
by the same channel. He fell forward on the wound, his armour
ringing on top of his body, and as he died his bleeding mouth
490 bit the soil of his enemies. Turnus stood over him and said:
‘Take this message of mine to Evander, you Arcadians, and do
not forget it: I am sending him back the Pallas he deserves.
Whatever honour there is in a tomb, and any comfort he finds
in burying him, these I gladly give him. His hospitality to Aeneas
will cost him dear!’ With these words he planted his left foot on
the dead body, and tore off the huge, heavy baldric. On this
great belt an abominable crime was embossed, how in one night,
the night of their marriage, a band of young men were foully
slain, and their marriage chambers bathed in blood, all worked
by Clonus, son of Eurytus, in a wealth of gold. This was the
500 spoil in which Turnus now exulted and he gloried in the taking
of it. The mind of man has no knowledge of what Fate holds in
store, and observes no limit when Fortune raises him up. The
time will come when Turnus would gladly pay, and pay richly,
to see Pallas alive and unharmed. He will bitterly regret this
spoil and the day he took it. A throng of Pallas’ comrades laid
him on his shield and carried him back with tears and groans. O
Pallas, a great grief and a great glory are coming home to your
father! This one day gave you to war, and now takes you from it,
and yet you leave behind you huge piles of Rutulian dead.
510 First a rumour of this calamity came flying to Aeneas and
then a reliable messenger, to tell him his men were on the very
edge of destruction; the Trojans were in retreat; now was the
time to help them. Everything that stood before him he harvested
with the sword, cutting a broad swathe through the enemy
ranks, and burning with rage as he looked for this Turnus
flushed with slaughter. Before his eyes he could see Pallas,
Evander, everything, the table he had sat down to that day when
he first came to their house, and the right hands of friendship
they had given him. Four warrior sons of Sulmo he now captured
alive and four reared by Ufens, to sacrifice them as offerings to
520 the shade of Pallas and pour their captive blood on the flames
of his pyre. Next he aimed his deadly spear from long range at
Magus, who cleverly ran under it. The quivering spear flew over
his head and he clasped the knees of Aeneas with this prayer:
‘By the shade of your own father and the hopes you have of
Iulus as he grows to manhood, I beg you to spare this life of
mine for the sake of my son and my father. Our home is a
high-built palace, and buried deep within it I have talents of
engraved silver and great weights of gold, both worked and
unworked. A Trojan victory does not depend on me. My one
530 life will not make so great a difference.’ This was Aeneas’ reply:
‘Keep for your children all those talents of silver and gold you
talk about. Turnus put an end to such war-trading the moment
he murdered Pallas. So judges the shade of my father Anchises.
And so judges Iulus.’ When he had spoken he took Magus’
helmet in his left hand, and bending back his neck when he was
still begging for mercy, he drove the sword home to the hilt.
Not far away was Haemonides, priest of Phoebus Apollo and
Diana Trivia, his temples bound by a headband of sacred wool,
540 all shining white in his white robes and insignia. Aeneas closed
with him, drove him across the plain, stood over him when he
fell, darkening the whiteness with his great shadow, and took
him as his victim. Serestus collected the spoils and carried them
back on his shoulders as a trophy to Mars Gradivus.
Caeculus of the stock of Vulcan renewed the battle, and
Umbro from the Marsian mountains with him. Aeneas confronted
them in all his fury. His sword had already struck off
the left hand of Anxur – a stroke of the blade had sent the whole
circle of his shield to the ground. He had uttered some great
threat, imagining that the strength would be there to make it
good. It seemed he was trying to raise his spirits to the skies,
and had promised himself that he would live to enjoy grey hairs
550 and a long life. Next Aeneas in his fury was faced by Tarquitus,
glorying in his shining armour, the son of Faunus, God of the
Woods, and the nymph Dryope. Drawing back his spear, Aeneas
threw and pinned the great heavy shield to the breastplate.
While he was still begging for mercy, and still had much to say,
Aeneas smashed his head to the ground, and as he set the warm
trunk rolling, these were the words he spoke with hatred in his
heart: ‘Lie there now, you fearsome warrior. Your good mother
will not bury you in the earth or burden your body with the
family tomb. You will be left for the wild birds, or thrown into
560 the sea to be carried away by the waves, and the hungry fish will
come and lick your wounds!’ Next he pursued and caught
Antaeus and Lucas, the front rank of Turnus, then brave Numa
and yellow-haired Camers, son of great-hearted Volcens, who
was richest in land of all the men of Italy and ruled over silent
Amyclae. Aeneas was like Aegaeon, who they say had a hundred
arms and a hundred hands, with fire flaming from fifty breasts
and mouths, and fifty was the number of swords he drew against
the lightning of Jupiter, fifty the number of identical shields he
clashed – so seemed Aeneas, raging victorious all over the plain,
570 when once his sword blade had warmed to the work. Imagine
him next bearing down on the chariot of Niphaeus, with the
four horses showing their chests as they stood to meet him, but
when they saw Aeneas’ great stride and heard his fearsome roar,
they wheeled in panic and bolted, throwing their master out of
the chariot and stampeding to the shore.
Meanwhile Lucagus was coming into the middle of battle on
a chariot drawn by two white horses. With him was his brother
Liger, handling the reins and controlling the horses while
Lucagus whirled his naked sword about him. Aeneas could not
endure to see such fury and such fervour, but rushed forward
580 and loomed huge before them with his levelled spear. It was
Liger who spoke: ‘These are not the horses of Diomede you are
looking at, or the chariot of Achilles. These are not the plains
of Troy. Here in this land today there will be an end to your
wars and to your life.’ Far flew these wild words of Liger. The
Trojan was preparing a reply to his enemy, but it was not in
words – it was his javelin he hurled. Lucagus had been leaning
forward over his horses to urge them on by beating them with
the flat of his spear. Now, when he had planted his left foot to
the front and was preparing for battle, through the bottom rim
of his shining shield came the spear of Aeneas and pierced his
590 left groin. He was pitched from his chariot and as he lay dying
on the ground, good Aeneas addressed these bitter words to
him: ‘It is not the panic of your horses, Lucagus, that has brought
your chariot to grief. They did not shy away from the shadow
of their enemy. It is your own doing, leaping off the car and
abandoning your team!’ With these words Aeneas caught the
horses’ bridles. The wretched brother of Lucagus fell from the
chariot and stretched out his helpless hands to Aeneas: ‘Great
Trojan, I implore you by your own self and by the parents who
brought such a man as you into the world, spare this life of mine
and take pity on a suppliant.’ Aeneas cut short his appeal. ‘This
600 is not what I heard you say a moment ago. Die now. A brother’s
place is with his brother.’ And as he spoke the point of his sword
opened the breast of Liger, the hiding place of his soul. So did
the Trojan leader deal out death all over the plain like a raging
torrent of water or a storm of black wind, until at last the young
Ascanius and his warriors sallied forth and left the camp. The
siege was lifted.
In the meanwhile Jupiter came to Juno and said to her: ‘O my
true sister and most pleasing of wives, you are right, it is Venus,
as you thought, who is maintaining the strength of the Trojans,
610 not the warlike vigour of their right arms nor their fierce
and danger-hardened spirit.’ Humbly Juno replied: ‘O finest of
husbands, why do you cause me anguish when I am in despair
and in terror of your harsh commands? If your love for me had
that power which once it had, and should have still, you who
can do all things would not be refusing me this. I should be able
to withdraw Turnus from the battle and keep him safe for his
father Daunus. But as things are, let him die. Let him pay the
penalty to the Trojans with his righteous blood. Nevertheless
he is descended from our stock, Pilumnus was his ancestor in
620 the fourth generation and his generous hand has often weighed
down your threshold with abundant gifts.’ The King of
Heavenly Olympus made brief reply: ‘If what you ask is a stay
of the death that is upon him and respite for a young man who
must die, and if you accept that this is what I ordain, then rescue
Turnus. Let him flee. Snatch him from the Fates that tread upon
his heels. There is room for me to grant you indulgence thus far.
But if there is some deeper thought of mercy underlying these
appeals of yours, and if you believe that the whole course of the
war can be affected or its outcome changed, the hopes which
you nourish are empty.’ Juno replied, weeping as she spoke:
‘What if your heart wished to give what your words refuse?
630 What if you listened to me and let Turnus live? As it is, although
he is innocent, a cruel death is waiting for him, unless I am wide
of the mark and there is no truth in me. But oh how I wish my
fears were false and I were deluded! How I wish you would
recast your plans, for you can do so, and choose a better course!’