The rumor of his coming hurried before him. Hector was returned to the city, weary from the heat of battle. Anxious wives and mothers pressed upon him, asking for news of loved ones, but he had none to give and bid them only pray. Hecuba waited with bated breath and a fearful heart for her eldest son to arrive at the steps of the palace.
“Why are you come, my son? What brings you from the battle? Have a seat. I will bid them fetch wine.”
But he shook her off. “Nay, woman. I cannot tarry or cloud my head. I have only come to fetch Paris and summon him back to the front where he belongs, and then I must return. Mother, I could almost wish that Menelaus had killed him, for the evil he has brought upon Troy, or better yet, that he had never been born. His dishonor dishonors us all.”
And he was gone, swift on his errand. Hecuba followed him with her eyes, praying for both her sons, and feeling the truth of his words, and lamenting for the rift between her children.
Once he had disappeared, she turned toward the wall where she knew Priam to be watching the fray, and made her way towards him, to while away the endless hours together. He glanced at her with weary eyes and reached for her hand, then turned back to look down from the turret.
“What news did Hector bring from the front?”
“None that we did not know: only that our younger son is a coward who must be fetched in order to fight in the battle he himself brought upon us,” she replied emptily.
Priam did not respond, but his expression soured as he scoured the fields. And there was Hector at the gate! And there again, shortly thereafter, was Paris, to rejoin his men. And there stood the king and queen of Troy in silence, watching their people and their sons, as the battle wore on.
Hecuba had felt the anguish of battle many times over: the constant throb of terror, the exhilaration as Trojans surged forward, nausea as they were beaten back. Her spent nerves muted it all to a dull ache, and she watched for hours, unfeelingly. Then he came. Achilles had reentered the fray, and she felt afresh a horror for her sons, as even Hector fled before him. And Sarpedon, a fool to stand and fight, had fallen before him! And there was Hector again, to recover noble Sarpedon’s body. Hecuba felt dismay and pride writhing within her, as one screamed at Hector to flee and the other to hold his ground. And Achilles slew man after man, but now he stumbled, and his helmet had fallen to the ground. And there was Hector, spearing Achilles to the dust, and his mother gave a triumphant cry, “Rejoice, oh King, for Achilles is fallen!”
But Priam shook his head. “Twas Patroclus. A mighty man was he, but not so mighty as Achilles.”
And her heart fell, and they returned to the watch. But now a battle raged over the body of Patroclus, and yet another mighty warrior appeared. The Greeks gave a great cry, and Hecuba’s heart lurched, knowing that no man but Achilles could be so great and masterful. Priam groaned lowly, then called a guard. He said “Bid them keep the lower gate open, that our men may find sanctuary behind the walls if they need.”
And indeed the need was great. Achilles routed the Trojans before him, and soon they streamed through the gate in a whelming flood. And once it seemed that all were inside, in great confusion and haste they prepared to close the gates, without waiting or caring to see that all were safe.
But Priam cried out with his hands towards the gate, “My son, my son, do not think to battle this man, for he will slay you! Go into the city, and preserve her hope!” He had seen Hector waiting at the gate, preparing to challenge the great Achilles, and Hecuba wailed, “My child, have mercy on me! Do not wait for him, my pride and my joy!” but she saw that he would not be moved, and she collapsed, and would not lift up her eyes, and heard the slam of the gate. She heard the crowd roaring, and Priam gasped out, “He flees, and Achilles is pursuing, faster than a hawk pursues a field mouse.” It seemed that she lay there for endless hours, and then a great cheer went up from the city and she could no longer bear it. Hecuba opened her eyes and turned to watch, and there, wonder of wonders, was Deïphobus, standing with Hector! Hope sprang back into her chest as they stood to face the great foe. Achilles launched his spear, but missed. Hector’s aim was true, but Achilles deflected the spear with his shield, and now Hector cried for another. But, Deïphobus was gone, and along with him hope! Indeed he had never been there, for Athena had cheated Hecuba’s son, appearing to him as a friend. And Achilles rushed at Hector like a lion, and Hector met him, and Hector fell.
His mother’s mind turned dark, and she dropped to the ground. Her son, her son, her pride and her joy.
Author's Note: This is based on the Iliad. I haven't changed the actual events very much, other than cutting some things out in order to compress the narrative a bit. The main difference is in my focus. The original Iliad keeps its focus primarily on Hector, Achilles, or the primary battle. We know of Hector's parents only as they relate to him (at least from what I read). I wanted to focus in on them a bit more, because it seemed to me that their position was heartbreaking. Their sons are going to this awful battle that one of them caused through his own greed and foolishness, and their better son turns to fight the greatest warrior of the age. They think him to be rescued by a friend, but then the friend disappears and their hope is gone. That sounds confusing and horrible.
