But he spoke in dismay to his own great heart: ‘What am I to do? If I go back inside the gates and the wall, Poulydamas will be the first to lay blame on me, because he urged me to lead the Trojans back to the city during this last fatal night, when godlike Achilleus had roused himself. But I did not take his advice – it would have been far better if I had. Now that I have destroyed my people through my own arrant folly, I feel shame before the men of Troy and the women of Troy with their trailing dresses, that some man, a worse man than I, will say: “Hektor trusted in his own strength and destroyed his people.” That is what they will say: and then it would be far better for me to face Achilleus and either kill him and return home, or die a glorious death myself in front of my city. But suppose I put down my bossed shield and heavy helmet, and lean my spear against the wall, and go out as I am to meet the excellent Achilleus, and promise to return Helen and all her property with her to the sons of Atreus for their keeping, all that Alexandros brought away in his hollow ships to Troy and was the first cause of our quarrel: and also to share equally with the Achaians all the rest of the property stored in this city – then afterwards I could make the Trojans take an oath in their council that they will hide nothing, but divide everything in two parts, all the possessions that the lovely city contains within it. But what need for this debate in my heart? I fear that if I go up to him he will not show me any pity or regard for my appeal, but will simply kill me unarmed like a woman, when I have taken off my armour. There can be no sweet murmuring with him now, like boy and girl at the trysting-tree or rock, the way a boy and girl murmur sweetly together. Better to close and fight as soon as can be. We can see then to which of us the Olympian is giving the victory.’