Hector spoke between the armies: Zeus on his high throne had brought their oaths to nothing and foreshadowed ill for both sides, till the Achaeans took Troy’s towers or were beaten beside their ships. Let the best Achaean come fight him face to face. If that man killed Hector, he might strip the armor and carry it to the ships, but must give the body home for Trojan fire. If Hector killed him, he would hang the armor in Apollo’s temple in sacred Ilios and give the body back for burial by the wide Hellespont, so that someone of men yet to be, sailing the wine-dark sea, would say: this is the mound of a man whom glorious Hector once killed as he fought his best — and Hector’s glory would never die.
All were silent, ashamed to refuse and afraid to accept. Menelaus rose in anger and called them women of Achaea, not men — a terrible reproach if no Danaan went against Hector. He began to arm, but Agamemnon took his hand and stopped him: he was mad; Hector was dreaded by others too, and even Achilles shuddered to meet him in battle that brings glory, and Achilles was far better. Let Menelaus sit with his company; the Achaeans would raise another champion. Even if Hector was fearless and could not get enough of war, he would be glad to bend his knee and rest if he escaped from the terrible fight.
Nestor rebuked the Argives: a great sorrow came on the Achaean land. Old Peleus would groan if he heard how they cowered before Hector — he who once questioned Nestor in his house, asking the lineage of all the Argives. Father Zeus and Athena and Apollo — if only Nestor were young as when the Pylians and Arcadians fought by the Celadon under Pheia. Then Ereuthalion stood as champion wearing the armor of Areithous the Club-Man, who fought not with bow or spear but broke battalions with an iron club. Lycurgus had killed Areithous by craft in a narrow way and taken the armor Ares gave him; when Lycurgus grew old he gave it to Ereuthalion. Wearing that armor he challenged all the best; they trembled, but Nestor’s spirit drove him though he was youngest of all. Athena gave him glory, and he killed that tallest and strongest man. If he were young as then, Hector would soon find his fight. But they who were best of the Achaeans would not go eagerly to meet Hector face to face.
Nine men rose at once: Agamemnon lord of men, Diomedes, the two Aiantes, Idomeneus, Meriones, Eurypylus, Thoas, and Odysseus. Nestor ordered each to mark his lot and throw it into Agamemnon’s helmet. The people lifted their hands and prayed that the lot would fall to Aias, or Diomedes, or the king of Mycenae rich in gold. Nestor shook the helmet, and the lot of Telamonian Aias leapt out. A herald carried it through the throng and showed it to the Achaean chiefs; each denied it until he came to Aias, who held out his hand. Aias knew the token and rejoiced at heart. He threw it on the ground and said: friends, the lot is mine, and I am glad, for I think I will conquer Hector of the shining helmet. While I put on my war-gear, pray to Zeus; but pray in silence, so the Trojans do not hear — or even openly, since we fear no man.