Patroclus met them and leapt from his chariot with a spear in each hand. He hurled a jagged stone that crushed the brows of Cebriones, Hector's charioteer and bastard brother. Both eyes fell in the dust before his feet, and Cebriones dropped from the car like a diver into the sea.
Patroclus mocked him, saying he was a light man and would dive well among oysters for a living. Then he sprang down to strip the armor. Hector leapt down also. They fought over Cebriones like two lions over a slain deer among the mountains, both hungry and both full of fight.
So long as the sun stood high, weapons on both sides killed equally, and the people fell. But when he turned toward the time for unyoking oxen, the Achaeans gained the better and dragged Cebriones from the Trojan spears out of the range of darts, and stripped the armor from his shoulders.
Then Patroclus charged the Trojans three times like Ares himself, shouting terribly, and three times he killed nine men. But when he rushed in a fourth time like a god, then, Patroclus, the end of your life showed itself.
Apollo came behind him in the thick mist, struck his back and broad shoulders with the flat of his hand, and knocked the helmet from his head. The horsehair crest, which before had guarded the brow of a godlike man, rolled clanging under the horses' feet and was fouled with blood and dust.
Zeus gave that helmet to Hector to wear on his own head. In Patroclus's hand the long spear, heavy, great, and strong, and shod with bronze, was broken; the fringed shield fell from his shoulders with its baldric; and Apollo son of Zeus undid the corselet. His mind went clouded, and his shining limbs failed him.
Euphorbos son of Panthoos, best of the Dardanian spearmen in casting and horsemanship and speed of foot, wounded him between the shoulders from close range and ran back into the crowd, not daring to face Patroclus even wounded. Patroclus stood dazed, trying to withdraw toward his own men and escape death.
Hector, when he saw him struck and drawing back, came near through the ranks and drove his spear into the lower belly, driving the bronze clean through. Patroclus fell with a crash, and the Achaean host was struck with grief.
Hector stood over him and boasted: "Patroclus, you thought you would sack our city and carry the women of Troy to your ships in slavery. Fool — Hector's horses are swift to fight for them, and I myself am foremost among the war-loving Trojans. The dogs and birds will tear you, and Achilles, for all his greatness, could not help you."
Then, as the life ebbed out of him, Patroclus answered: "Hector, vaunt while you can. Zeus and Apollo have handed me to you; they stripped the armor from my shoulders. If twenty such as you had met me, I would have killed them all. But deadly fate and Leto's son have killed me, and of men Euphorbos; you are only my third slayer. And I will tell you another thing: you yourself will not live long. Death and strong fate already stand near you, to fall under Achilles."
When he had spoken, death covered him. His soul flew from his limbs down to Hades, grieving for its fate, leaving manhood and youth. Hector answered the dead man: "Patroclus, why prophesy my death? Who knows whether Achilles, son of fair-haired Thetis, may not fall first under my spear?"
So he spoke, and drew the bronze spear from the wound, setting his foot on the body to pull it free. Then he stripped the armor of Achilles from Patroclus's shoulders and went after Automedon, eager for the deathless horses — but they had already carried the charioteer out of reach.