And then Quintus says something quite extraordinary: Achilles, still gazing at Penthesilea, feels as much love and sorrow as when his comrade Patroclus died. The death of Patroclus is one of the turning points in the Trojan War. The rage his death provokes in Achilles is what compels the great hero to embark on his terrifying killing spree. But before that comes the moment when a comrade brings him the news of Patroclus’ death. He collapses to the ground, and his comrade fears he will slit his own throat. Whether Achilles and Patroclus were lovers or merely close companions, Achilles’ devotion to his friend is undeniable. The celebrations of Patroclus’ life – the funeral pyre, the golden urn for his ashes, the days of games held in his honour – are all provided by Achilles, but only once he has obliterated Hector, the man who had killed him.
And these feelings of love, companionship and intense sorrow are what Achilles feels now, looking down at the body of Penthesilea, a woman he was taunting only moments ago. Thersites, who is critical of the war effort and its commanders, is standing nearby. He mocks Achilles for the feelings he has for this Amazon, and accuses him of being gunaimanes – ‘woman-crazy’。42 Achilles says nothing in reply, but reaches out and punches Thersites so hard that the man falls to the ground, dead.
Thersites’ response is both terminal and unusual. A kind of love continues to be expressed by the Greeks to Penthesilea, because they give her body to the Trojans for a funeral. This is another remarkable moment: the bodies of the dead – Greek or Trojan – have rarely been treated with this kind of respect during the war. Menelaus had to stand guard over Patroclus’ body even after Hector had stripped Achilles’ armour from him, so that they could take him back to the Greek camp for funeral rites. And yet Menelaus and Agamemnon give Penthesilea up without question. The fallen Amazon is carried from the battlefield by her enemies.
Scenes of Achilles and Penthesilea were a common theme on ancient vases. Surely the most beautiful, dating back to the sixth century BCE and painted by the master of the black figure technique, Exekias, can be found in the British Museum.43 The black figure of Achilles – his enormous thighs showing us just how strong he is – stands to the left. His plumed helmet covers his face, only one eye is visible. He is driving his spear down, into the neck of Penthesilea. She is on one knee in front of him. Her shield hangs useless from her left shoulder. Her skin is white （men are often painted black and women white on these types of pots）。 Her helmet covers only the back and top of her head: her face is visible. Her eye is just a plain black dot, her mouth a small, straight line. But the decorated plume of her helmet matches his, and the bright red interiors of their shields match too. A snake decorates the helmet: it inevitably reminds us of Medusa. And Penthesilea wears a pardalis – a leopard skin – hanging down over her tunic, held in place by her red belt. Its paws reach down to her thighs. Blood gushes from her neck. Both Penthesilea’s and Achilles’ names are inscribed on the vase, next to each figure.
The museum also has a hydria – a water jug – which shows the aftermath of this battle.44 A bearded Achilles is walking from left to right, leaning forward slightly, carrying two spears in his right hand. He has not been inconvenienced enough to lose even one of them. Over his left shoulder, he carries the body of Penthesilea. Again, she is painted white. Her eyes are closed, her limbs hang limp. While we can see many images of Greek warriors carrying their fallen comrades from the battlefield, this hydria is unique in showing a Greek carrying his enemy.45 Penthesilea is an extraordinary hero, even in death.
We only need to remember how Achilles behaved after he killed Troy’s earlier defender, Hector: defiling his corpse by dragging it behind his chariot and refusing to allow his burial. Achilles’ treatment of Penthesilea is, in contrast, a model of respect. He carries her body as though she were a comrade, and the Greeks return her to Priam without hesitation: no bargaining, no arguing. Priam and his men burn her on a pyre. The funeral is costly and ceremonial: she is treated as a beloved daughter.46 They put her bones in a casket and inter them next to the bones of Laomedon, father of Priam and once-king of Troy. It is hard to imagine any fallen warrior being more lauded or lamented than Penthesilea, by friend and enemy alike.
So Penthesilea is no less a warrior because she died so quickly at the hands of Achilles. No matter how great a fighter someone is, Achilles is always better, faster, more bloodthirsty. The act of seeking to fight him at all – given his extraordinary martial superiority – is the sign of a true warrior. And Penthesilea achieves what many warriors strive to achieve throughout the Iliad: personal fame and a glorious death. These may seem to us like illusory goals. No death looks glorious up close, least of all one in battle. And glory – the estimation of our peers – is worth what, in the end? Achilles, once dead in the Underworld, tells Odysseus that he would rather be a living peasant than a king among the dead. The glory which he pursued so angrily throughout the Iliad was not, in the end, worth dying for.