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When Hector saw that his enemy was disarmed, he took his spear and struck him so fiercely that Patroclus fell

‘With clashing mail, and all the Greeks beheld

His fall with grief.’

The friend of Achilles was wounded to death.

In his triumph Hector was merciless. He mocked at his fallen foe, saying, ‘Patroclus, surely thou saidst that thou wouldst sack my town, and from Trojan women take away the day of freedom, and bring them in ships to thine own dear country. Fool, ... I ward from them the day of destiny, but thee shall vultures here destroy.’

Faint though he was, Patroclus answered, ‘It was not thou, Hector, who didst slay me, but Apollo, who snatched from me my shield and brake my sword in twain.’ Then his strength failed and he breathed his last.

No pity yet showed Hector, for he stripped off the armour of Achilles from the body of Patroclus that he might wear it himself. But Zeus, as he looked upon the haughty victor, was displeased.

‘Ah, hapless man,’ said the god to himself, ‘no thought is in thy heart of death that yet draweth nigh unto thee; thou doest on thee the divine armour of a peerless man before whom the rest have terror. His comrade, gentle and brave, thou hast slain, and unmeetly hast stripped the armour from his head and shoulders.’