Though Ajax had braved Hector, iron, flames, and Jove, the one thing he can’t brave is rage. Grief crushed an uncrushed man. He grabs his sword. “Is this still mine?” he asks. “Or does Ulysses claim it too? I must use it on myself. 420 This blade, so often steeped in Trojan gore, will now be steeped in its own master’s blood. Let nobody but Ajax conquer Ajax.” He spoke. Into that chest that had not ever endured a wound he drove his deadly sword. 425
