#9 Death of Nisus & Euryalus

Episode #9:  The Death of the Trojans Nisus & Euryalus

Vergil Aeneid Book 9 (lines 334-500)

[summarized in ‘Search for a Homeland’ pp. 84-87]

Nisus and Euryalus begged to be heard by the Trojan leaders,

the matter being important, and worth the delay. Iulus was first

to welcome the impatient pair, and ordered Nisus to speak.

So Nisus, with his friend Euryalus at his side, said: ‘Trojans leaders, listen

with fair minds, and don’t judge my words by our years.

The Italians are quiet, drowned in sleep and wine.

We ourselves have seen a place for an opening: it opens

in a fork of the road by the nearest gate to the sea.

There’s a gap between the fires, and black smoke rises

to the stars. If you allow us to seize the chance,

you’ll soon see us back again burdened with spoils

after carrying out vast slaughter. The road will not

deceive us as we seek Aeneas and Pallanteum’s walls.

In our frequent hunting through the secret valleys

we’ve seen the outskirts of the city, and know the whole river.’

To this Aletes, a Trojan heavy with years and wise, replied:

‘Gods of our fathers, under whose power Troy lies,

you do not intend to obliterate the Trojan race as yet

since you bring us such courage in our young men and such

firm hearts.’ So saying, he took them both by the shoulder

and hand while tears flooded his cheeks and lips.

Nisus and Euryalus then armed, and left immediately: 

They crossed the protective ditches, seeking the enemy camp

in the shadow of night, destined yet to first bring many deaths.

They saw bodies in drunken sleep, stretched here and there

on the grass, chariots tilted upwards on the shore, men, among

wheels and harness, and weapons and wine-cups lying about.

Nisus, Hyrtacus’ son, spoke first, saying:

‘Euryalus, now the occasion truly calls for a daring

right hand. This is our road. You must see that no arm’s

raised against us at our back, and keep watch carefully:

I’ll deal destruction here, and cut you a wide path.’

So he spoke, and checked his speech, and at once

drove his sword at proud Rhamnes, who chanced to be

breathing deeply in sleep, piled with thick coverlets.

Nisus killed three of his servants nearby, lying careless

among their weapons, and Remus’ armor bearer, and his charioteer,

found at the horses’ feet: he severed lolling necks with his sword.

Then he struck off the head of their lord himself, and left

the trunk spurting blood, the ground and the bed drenched

with dark warm blood. And Lamyrus too, and Lamum,

and young Serranus, noted for his beauty, who had sported

much that night, and lay there limbs drowned by much wine –

happy if he’d carried on his game all night till dawn:

So a starving lion churning through a full sheepfold, (driven

by its raging hunger) gnaws and tears at the feeble flock

mute with fear, and roars from its bloodstained mouth.

Nor was Euryalus’ slaughter any less: he too raged, ablaze,

and among the nameless crowd he attacked Fadus,

and Herbesus, and Abaris, while they were unconscious:

and Rhoetus, but Rhoetus was awake and saw it all,

but crouched in fear behind a huge wine-bowl. As he rose,

in close encounter, Euryalus plunged his whole blade

into Rhoetus’ chest, and withdrew it red with death. Rhoetus

choked out his life in dark blood, and, dying, brought up wine

mixed with gore: the other pressed on fervently and stealthily.

Now he approached Messapus’ followers: there he saw

the outermost fires flickering, and the horses, duly tethered,

cropping the grass: Nisus (seeing him carried away

by slaughter and love of the sword’s power) said briefly:

‘Let’s go, since unhelpful dawn is near. Enough: vengeance

has been satisfied: a path has been made through the enemy.’

They left behind many of the men’s weapons

fashioned from solid silver, and wine-bowls and splendid hangings.

Euryalus put on Messapus’ excellent helmet with its handsome

plumes. The left the camp and headed for safety.

Meanwhile enemy riders arrived, sent out from the Latin city,

while the rest of the army waited in readiness,

on the plain, bringing a reply for King Turnus:

three hundred, carrying shields, led by Volcens.

They were already near the camp, and below the walls,

when they saw the two men turning down a path on the left:

his helmet, gleaming in the shadow of night, betrayed

the unthinking Euryalus, and reflected back the rays.

It was not seen in vain. Volcens shouted from his column:

‘You men, halt, what’s the reason for your journey? Who are you,

 you’re armed? Where are you off to?’ They offered no response,

but hastened their flight to the woods, trusting to the dark.

The riders closed off the known junctions, on every side,

and surrounded each exit route with guards.

The forest spread out widely, thick with brambles

and holm-oaks, the dense thorns filling it on every side:

there the path glinted through the secret glades.

Euryalus was hampered by shadowy branches, and the weight

of his plunder, and his fear confused the path’s direction.

Nisus was safe: and already unaware had escaped the enemy,

and was at the place later called Alba from Alba Longa

(at that time King Latinus had his noble stalls there)

when he stopped, and looked back vainly for his missing friend.

‘Euryalus, unhappy boy, where did I separate from you?

Which way shall I go?’ he said, considering all the tangled tracks

of the deceptive wood, and at the same time scanning

the backward traces he could see, crisscrossing the silent thickets.

He heard horses, heard the cries and signals of pursuit:

and it was no great time before a shout reached his ears

and he saw Euryalus, betrayed by the ground and the night,

confused by the sudden tumult, whom the whole troop

were dragging away, overpowered, struggling violently in vain.

What can he do? With what force, or weapons, can he dare

to rescue the youth? Should he hurl himself to his death among

the swords, and by his wounds hasten to a glorious end?

He swiftly drew back his spear arm and gazing upwards

at the moon above, prayed, with these words:

‘O you, goddess, O you, Latona’s daughter, glory of the stars,

and keeper of the woods, be here and help us in our trouble.

If ever my father, Hyrtacus, brought offerings on my behalf

to your altars, if ever I added to them from my own hunting,

hung them beneath your dome, or fixed them to the sacred eaves,

let me throw their troop into confusion, guide my spear through the air.’

He spoke and flung the steel, straining with his whole body.

The flying javelin divided the shadows, struck Sulmo’s back,

as he turned, and snapped, the broken shaft piercing the heart.

He rolled over, a hot stream pouring from his chest,

and deep gasps shook his sides, as he grew cold.

They gazed round them, in every direction. See, Nisus,

all the more eager, leveled another spear against his ear.

While they hesitated, the javelin hissed through both

of Tagus’s temples, and fixed itself in the pierced brain.

Fierce Volcens raged, but could not spy out the author

of the act, nor any place that he could vent his fire.

He rushed at Euryalus with his naked sword, as he

cried out: ‘In the mean time you’ll pay in hot blood

and give me revenge for both your crimes.’

Then, truly maddened with fear, Nisus shouted aloud, unable

to hide himself in the dark any longer, or endure such agony:

On me, Italians, turn your steel on me, me who did the deed!

The guilt is all mine, he neither dared nor had the power:

the sky and the all-knowing stars be witnesses:

he only loved his unfortunate friend too much.’

He was still speaking, but the sword, powerfully driven,

passed through the ribs and tore the white breast.

Euryalus rolled over in death, and the blood flowed

down his lovely limbs, and his neck, drooping,

sank on his shoulder, like a bright flower scythed

by the plough, bowing as it dies, or a poppy weighed

down by a chance shower, bending its weary head.

But Nisus rushed at them, seeking Volcens

above all, intent on Volcens alone.

The enemy gathered round him, to drive him off,

in hand to hand conflict. He attacked none the less, whirling

his sword like lightning, until he buried it full in the face

of the shrieking Italian, and, dying, robbed his enemy of life.

Then, pierced through, he threw himself on the lifeless body

of his friend, and found peace at last in the calm of death.

Happy pair! If my poetry has the power,

while the House of Aeneas lives beside the Capitol’s

immobile stone, and a Roman leader rules the Empire,

no day will raze you from time’s memory.