So he spoke, and steadying his long-shadowed spear he let it fly, and did not miss, hitting in the centre of the son of Peleus’ shield: but the spear rebounded far from the shield. Hektor was angered that his swift spear had flown wasted from his hand, and stood there in dismay, as he had no second ash spear. He called in a great shout to Deïphobos of the white shield, and asked him for a long spear. But Deïphobos was not there near him. Then Hektor realised in his heart, and cried out: ‘Oh, for sure now the gods have called me to my death! I thought the hero Deïphobos was with me: but he is inside the wall, and Athene has tricked me. So now vile death is close on me, not far now any longer, and there is no escape. This must long have been the true pleasure of Zeus and Zeus’ son the far-shooter, and yet before now they readily defended me: but now this time my fate has caught me. Even so, let me not die ingloriously, without a fight, without some great deed done that future men will hear of.’