Hermes has been protecting unwitting Priam as they approach the Argive camp to ransom his son's body, which Achilles has been dragging around Patroklos' funeral pyre for days.-

"Oh old man, I, Hermes, a divine god, was sent by my father to protect you, but I must return before coming within range of Achilles' eyes. Thus openly greeting mortals would be shameful for an immortal god. Upon entering, take the son of Peleus' knees, and beg in the names his of father, fair-haired mother, and child to stir his heart."

~Thus speaking Hermes departed to Mt. Olympus, as Priam jumped to the ground from his horse. Leaving Idios to wait with the horses and donkeys, the old man headed directly for the barracks where sat Achilles, friend to the gods, apart from the two others present, the hero Automedos and Alkimos, offspring of Ares, who lingered after having their fill of eating meat and drinking. Great Priam snuck close past them to take the knees of Achilles, and kiss the terrible man-killing hands, that had murdered so many of his sons. When a killer under the sway of thick mischief escapes to another province, upon his arrival on a rich man’s doorstep wonder seizes those watching, like Achilles and the other two men wondered, looking from Priam, divine in form, to one another.
~ In supplication, Priam voiced his request. “Let your father be remembered godlike Achilles. I am his age, on the painful edge of senility. Where he is, neighbors all around distress him. No one defends him against harm and death. However, surely when he hears you are alive, he rejoices in his heart; and all his days he hopes to look upon his beloved son returned from Troy. Yet I am utterly doomed because I sired the best sons in broad Troy. They once numbered fifty, of which I say not one remains! All because the sons of the Achaeans came. Nineteen of my boys were from the same womb, and great women bore them all. Each one fell when pitiless Ares loosened their knees. Hector alone kept watch on our city and ourselves. He was protecting his fatherland when you slew him, and it is for his sake that I have approached the Achaean ships, intending to ransom him from you. I carry a boundless treasure. Out of reverence for the gods! Pity a man reminiscent of your father. I am very pitiful. No man on earth has suffered this, to accept the hand of his child’s killer to his lips.” Thus the patriarch spoke, arousing in Achilles the desire to weep.
~ Laying hold of the old man’s hands he gently pushed him away. The old man thought back on man-killing Hector and sobbed deeply, curled at the feet of Achilles, while Achilles wept for his father, and then again for Patroklos. Their groans stirred the barracks throughout, but once Achilles’ lamentation had been sated, it drained from his diaphragm and limbs. He sprang from his chair to rouse the old man.
~ Taking pity on his grey head and beard, he spoke winged words to Priam. “Ah wretched man, your heart endures many evils. How do you dare come to our ships alone, within sight of the man who slew your many virile sons in battle? Surely that heart is forged from iron. But come, sit in this chair. Still the sorrow in your heart, though we are very grieved, for nothing is accomplished by cold tears. Thus the gods doom wretched mortals to live in grief. They pay no funeral rights. On God’s floor rest two urns, one produces gifts of an evil nature and the other blessings. He who from Zeus, delighting in the thunderbolt, receives gifts from both urns, is at times met with evils, other times blessings. However, he that is given only gifts of woe, Zeus makes miserable and evil pushes him across the shining earth, to roam neither valued by gods nor mortals. So, to Peleus the gods gave bright gifts from the day he was born. Among men he surpassed all in luck and wealth. He ruled the Myrmidons and, though he was mortal, they made a goddess his wife. Yet even unto him God hurled woe, because for him, there has been no generation of princely children, only a single short lived child. Now as he grows old, I’m not there to take care of him. Instead I am far from my fatherland here in Troy, visiting woe on you and your children. And you old man, we have heard that at one time you were lucky. As much as Lesbos cuts off towards the sea and Phrygia from the north, as well as the boundless Hellespont, all of this was yours, and you excelled in wealth and sons. Those who dwell in Heaven have brought this misfortune upon you, the constant battle and slaughter that surround your city. Be strong. Don’t let your heart lament unceasingly. You accomplish nothing by grieving for your valiant son. You won’t bring him back, but you may suffer your next misfortune sooner.”

Iliad, :551

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