Apollo charged, flicking away the enemy's spears and arrows, and killing any who stood in their way. Next to him was Hector, and together they reached the walls of the Greek camp. Apollo kicked them down as easily as a boy kicks down a sand castle on the beach, and the Trojan army surged like waves against the Greek ships.
Meanwhile, Patroclus sat Eurypylus, tending his wounds. He heard the sound of battle, and rushed out of the tent. He saw his companions on the ships, defending them as fiercely as they could, stabbing at the Trojans with long pikes. As he watched, the Trojans climbed the piles of dead bodies and onto the decks. Hector was calling for fire, and men came with torches. Soon smoke filled the air and he could smell the dreadful smell of burning.
"I have to go," he said to Eurypylus and ran to Achilles' camp.
"You're crying, Patroclus," said Achilles. "Like a baby girl, begging her mother to pick her up."
His words were scornful. They hurt Patroclus deeply. But inside Achilles felt pity for his closest friend.
"So has your father died? Or mine?" continued Achilles. "For them we would have real cause to weep. Surely you don't grieve for them?"
He pointed toward the burning ships.
"They die because of their own folly."
Patroclus answered him quickly, anger in his eyes, "They die because of one man's folly, and he has already made amends. Now you are responsible. You're not the child of Peleus and Thetis. The gray, sunless ocean with its great towering cliffs gave birth to you. How can you be so heartless, or perhaps it's because you're afraid of your mother's prophecy…
"Prophecies?" said Achilles. "I fear no prophecies. I can't forgive that man for..."
"Then let me fight instead of you," Patroclus said. "Let me wear your armor, and lead your men. The Trojans will think I am you. What do you say?"