Anger is the mover of things in war. It is the anger of Menelaus at the theft of his bride Helen, the spite of Hera and Athena at Aphrodite, and, of course, the “rage of Achilles” that is sung in the song of the Iliad. It is the latter ire that sets in motion the tides of war that bring the Trojans to the shadow of the Achaean ships. It is likewise, a small abatement of these passions that releases Patroclus to push the Trojans back to their walls. Achilles temper marks the fate of the Argive expedition. It is only fitting then that the epic concludes when his passions are finally doused.

It is calmed with the meeting of a father and a son. However, not the correct father and son. It is a father with the man who killed his son. Somehow, such a strange ending leads to the deepest resolution.

The stage for the final scene is set even before Hector’s death. When he takes his last stand against Achilles he asks that they make a pact to not defile the others' body if they are victorious and instead return it to the fallen warrior’s people. Achilles, in the midst of his rage, refuses. Then when Achilles strikes down Hector he tries once more to win him over:

“I beg you, beg you by your life, your parents—

Don’t let the dogs devour me by the Argive ships” (22.399-400)

Hector tries to invoke the memory of his parents to soften the iron resolve of Achilles. Achilles will hear nothing of it. He berates him for begging him by his parents, and promises he will defile his body after he is dead. Though it fails, Hector’s plea foreshadows the final book of the epic. A simple reminder of his parents will not do the job. Achilles will instead require the potency of a visit from Hector's begetter, Priam, to bring the image of his own father fully to mind.

But first, Achilles finishes off Hector and attaches his body to the back of his chariot and drags him back to the camp, defiling the corpse. He then leaves the body to be devoured by the dogs. This is juxtaposed against the grand funeral procession that Achilles gives for Patroclus (which involves the shocking sacrifice of a dozen Trojan soldiers on the pyre). The violence and brutality of these final acts which are always punctuated by episodes of weeping from Achilles are the last, desperate spurts of fire from a flame that has burned through all of its fuel. Yet, his rage will still not die.

This is illustrated by Achilles' actions the night after the funeral of Patroclus and his funeral games. He is unable to sleep, turning from side to side, so he gets up and attaches Hector's body to his chariot. He then drags it around Patroclus' tomb. All has gone quiet, but Achilles’ frustration continues to smolder, unable to be released even when its aims have been accomplished. The great runner will receive relief from an unlikely source.

Meanwhile, on Olympus the gods are debating. They urge Hermes to go steal Hector’s body (which up till now Apollo has kept from being damaged). However, this is opposed by Athena, Hera, and Poseidon who hate the Trojans. The matter is then brought to Zeus who has affection for Hector saying’

“the immortals love Prince Hector dearly,

best of all the mortals born in Troy…

so I loved him at least” (24.81-83)

However, he must be mindful of Thetis, Achilles’ mother, and therefore, cannot go steal the body himself. Instead he instructs Thetis and Achilles to allow Priam, the king of Troy, to come collect his son's corpse, so that he may receive a proper burial.

Priam is a character who until now has received little development. This seems almost intentional as in this final book he will take on the role of simply the “good father” in an archetypal sense. When the goddess Iris tells him to go and ransom his son, Priam ignores his wife's disapproval of the idea citing the fact that the command comes from a god. By order of a higher power he is beholden to a duty to try to retrieve the body of his son.

Then, upon disembarking from Troy he is initially accompanied by his "unheroic" sons and in-laws. However, after a short time they all turn back to the city and he is left only with his faithful servant to journey across the plain in the middle of the night. It is a pitiable, and somehow mystical, scene. Stripped of all the trappings of his identity, the titles of king and father are left back in Troy. Now, he is simply a man making his way through the cold wilderness of night. Moved by compassion, Zeus sends Hermes to accompany Priam. Their interaction is telling.

Hermes first word to Priam is an address: “Father” (24.428). In case the listener misses this odd salutation, the god goes on to clarify his words later saying, “You remind me of my dear father to the life.” (24.439). Remember Zeus is Hermes' father, the Great Father. The interchange is so strange that it must be an intentional comparison. Priam, who no longer physically inhabits his role as a father, is affirmed as being a representative of “father” as an abstract and foundational symbol; Abstract in his liberation from the requirements of existing in his family structure and foundational in his comparison to the highest example of the role, Zeus. This is the Priam that goes to meet Achilles: A Father.

Indeed, the first words spoken to Achilles when Priam appears at his side and begs for the return of his son’s body is:

“Remember your own father great godlike Achilles—

as old as I am, past the threshold of deadly old age!

No doubt the countrymen round about him plague him now,

with no one there to defend him, beat away disaster.

No one—but at least he hears you’re still alive

and his old heart rejoices, hopes rising, day by day,

To see his beloved son come sailing home from Troy.

But I—dear god, my life so cursed by fate…

I fathered hero sons in the wide realm of Troy

and now not a single one is left, I tell you.” (24.570-79)

This plea has no practical use. Only a few passages earlier Achilles consented to return Hector’s body for ransom when Thetis told him that it was the will of Zeus. It was a forgone conclusion that Achilles would comply. But, Homer is now working on a different theme than the mere practical: the heart. Both men weep.

Unbeknownst to Priam, who seems unaware of Achilles’ fate, he himself is in the position Achilles’ father will be shortly. Fate guarantees that Achilles' own death will follow shortly after Hector's demise. With one act two men lost their sons. Now, the result of Achilles' actions has appeared suddenly at his side both in the real form of Hector's progenitor and in Priam's abstract representation of the bereaved father. This is the most powerful moment of the epic. I initially believed Achilles shed tears of sympathy for Priam. That is not the case: "as Achilles wept himself, now for his father, now for Patroclus again.” (24.597-98). His heart is with Peleus, of whom Priam is a reminder.

Despite this strange intimacy, the scene with Achilles and Priam is intense. Priam rejects Achilles' initial offer to eat together. He wants to see his son’s body first. Achilles reminds the king of Troy to be careful to not reignite his rage. Achilles is under order from the gods, not Priam. He goes on to suggest that he would be willing to defy the laws of Zeus that protect suppliants such as Priam. Their cordiality is tenuous at best. Ultimately, the Achaean complies, and after preparing the body to be passed off, the two share an odd meal.

This dinner is highlighted by an odd moment in which each man beholds the other:

“Priam the son of Dardanus gazed at Achilles, marveling

now at the man’s beauty, his magnificent build—

face-to-face he seemed a deathless god…

and Achilles gazed and marveled at Dardan Priam,

beholding his noble looks, listening to his words.” (24.740-44)

This is the opposite of dehumanization. After Priam plays the role of abstracted father, Achilles can now see him face to face. He is no longer the distant ruler of the enemy, but a man with whom he is sharing a meal. More powerful still is that Priam undergoes a similar experience. It is impossible that this is affection or even genuine goodwill. What seems most appropriate is to label it respect.

This respect may be why Achilles, who is not prone to generous gestures, asks Priam the number of days needed to properly bury Hector. Priam requests twelve days, an eternity in war, to which the Achaean agrees and promises to hold back any attacks during that time. It is a small measure of grace from a hardened soldier to his enemy.

Despite this Priam only sleeps a short time before being woken by Hermes who tells him to escape back to the city under the cover of darkness. The Trojan king readily complies. One cannot be too careful when sleeping in the enemy's camp.

Upon being returned to his people, Hector is properly mourned by his wife, mother, and sister in-law, Helen, and then buried. The Trojans post sentries to guard the men constructing the pyre, but an attack never comes. Achilles is true to his word. Still, an abundance of caution is wise during war.

I will end this report where Homer chose to end the Iliad: Hector's burial. It appears to be an odd place to draw the epic to a close, but it could be no more fitting. Hector's death is the ultimate manifestation of collateral damage. He paid his life for a war he had no part in starting, and died at the hands of an anger ignited in a feud he did not even know occurred. Here is the end of the Rage of Achilles: "And so the Trojans buried Hector breaker of horses” (24.944).