I knew nothing of Peleus. But I told him of Neoptolemus. I brought the boy from Scyros in my own ship to the bronze-clad Achaeans. In council he was never at a loss. Hector and many others fell to his spear. And how after the fight in the horse he walked away unhurt with his share of spoil and a fine prize. He did not die by a Trojan blade; some god struck him down. When I had said this the shade of swift Achilles strode off through the asphodel meadow, glad that his son was a man of renown.
Other dead pressed round with their sorrows. Only Aias son of Telamon stood apart, still angry over the armor of Achilles that I had won when Thetis set the prizes and the Trojan captives judged. I spoke gently and asked him to forget the rage even in death. The gods had laid that doom on the Argives for his sake, for he was our tower. He answered nothing and went down into Erebus after the other souls. I wished I had not won that judgment.
“Only Aias son of Telamon stood apart, still angry over the armor of Achilles that I had won. I spoke gently and asked him to forget the rage even in death. He answered nothing and went down into Erebus. I wished I had not won that judgment.”
Then I saw Minos, Zeus’s son, sitting with a golden scepter, judging the dead while they asked his rulings. I saw huge Orion driving over the asphodel the beasts he had killed on lonely hills, a bronze club unbroken in his hands. I saw Tityus son of Gaia stretched over nine acres while two vultures tore his liver for the violence he once did to Leto. I saw Tantalus standing in a lake to his chin, forever thirsty. Whenever he bent to drink the water sank away, and the fruit over his head was tossed up by the wind when he reached.
I saw Sisyphus heaving his monstrous stone with both hands. He would brace and roll it toward the crest. Just as it seemed to pass the rim it turned and thundered back to the plain, and he strained after it again, sweat running from his limbs and dust rising from his head.
“I saw Minos judging the dead. Orion driving beasts over the asphodel. Tityus stretched over nine acres while vultures tore his liver. Tantalus forever thirsty and forever reaching for fruit the wind tossed away. Sisyphus heaving his stone toward a crest it would not pass.”
Then I saw the phantom of mighty Heracles — his true self feasts among the deathless gods with Hebe for wife. Round his phantom the dead clamored like frightened birds. He stood like black night with bow bare and arrow on the string, wearing a terrible baldric of gold worked with bears, wild boars, lions, battles, and killings. He knew me and wept that even he, son of Zeus, had served a lesser man and fetched the hound of Hades. Hermes and bright-eyed Athena had walked with him then.