Thus did he hound them on, and in one body they rushed straight at the wall as he had bidden them, and scaled the battlements with sharp spears in their hands. Hektor laid hold of a stone that lay just outside the gates and was thick at one end but pointed at the other; two of the best men in a district [dêmos], as men now are, could hardly raise it from the ground and put it on to a wagon, but Hektor lifted it quite easily by himself, for the son of scheming Kronos made it light for him. As a shepherd picks up a ram's fleece with one hand and finds it no burden, so easily did Hektor lift the great stone and drive it right at the doors that closed the gates so strong and so firmly set.
These doors were double and high, and were kept closed by two cross-bars to which there was but one key. When he had got close up to them, Hektor strode towards them that his blow might gain in force and struck them in the middle, leaning his whole weight against them. He broke both hinges, and the stone fell inside by reason of its great weight. The portals re-echoed with the sound, the bars held no longer, and the doors flew open, one one way, and the other the other, through the force of the blow. Then brave Hektor leaped inside with a face as dark as that of fleeing night. The gleaming bronze flashed fiercely about his body and he had tow spears in his hand. None but a god could have withstood him as he flung himself into the gateway, and his eyes glared like fire. Then he turned round towards the Trojans and called on them to scale the wall, and they did as he bade them - some of them at once climbing over the wall, while others passed through the gates. The Danaans then fled panic-stricken towards their ships, and all was uproar and confusion.
