"Paris," said Helen. "What's wrong?"
Paris was standing on the balcony of his room. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close.
"Paris!" cried Helen. "What's wrong! Please tell me!" She held him tightly.
"Nothing," managed Paris even as tears filled his eyes. "Nothing."
Odysseus rolled his eyes at Achilles as the meeting ended and they all began leaving Agamemnon's large tent. "War is young men dying and old men talking. You know this. Ignore the politics."
"Achilles."
Achilles turned.
Agamemnon waved him forward. His tent was now empty, only servants left behind. "A great victory was won today. But that victory was not yours. Kings do not kneel to Achilles. Kings do not pay homage to Achilles."
"Perhaps the kings were too far behind to see: the soldiers won the battle," said Achilles dryly.
"History remembers KINGS, not soldiers!" Agamemnon stood to his feet. "Tomorrow we'll batter down the gates of Troy. I'll build monuments for victory on every island in Greece. I'll carve Agamemnon in the stones."
Achilles smiled slightly. "Be careful, King of kings. First, you need the victory."
Agamemnon's eyes narrowed briefly. Then he asked, "You sacked the temple of Apollo today?"
Achilles nodded. "You want gold? Take it. As a gift from me."
Agamemnon's eyes glittered. "I already took what I want. Guards!" He smiled.
At the sound of a cry of pain, Achilles whirled.
The guards came in, dragging between them a struggling Briesis.
She looked at him and their eyes met.
"Achilles!" she cried.
Achilles' face went red with anger. "Let her go!" He drew his sword.
Agamemnon's smile faded and he sat forward.
The guards standing along the sides of his tent swarmed forward.
"I thought you not so foolish," hissed Achilles.
The soldiers backed away.
"Stop!" cried Briesis. She jerked herself free and stood there, looking at Achilles. "Too many men have died today! If killing is your only talent, that's your curse. I don't want anyone dying for me." She brushed her hair back from her face. "Your cousin told me you where different and I believed him. Show me I was right."
Achilles slowly lowered his sword. Rage bubbled inside him.
For one of the few times in his life, Agamemnon felt a shiver of fear. Achilles raised his sword and the soldiers took a small step forward as Achilles leveled the sword at Agamemnon.
Agamemnon didn't move. He didn't blink. If Achilles threw that sword…his soldiers wouldn't be able to move in time…
"Achilles." Nestor, one of the kings under Agamemnon, stepped forward.
Achilles looked at him. He knew Nestor. He knew he was wise. He looked at Agamemnon. "Imagine a king who fought his own battles. Wouldn't that be a sight?" he stepped forward, his sword raised. "Before my time is done, I will look down on your corpse and smile." Then he turned and left the tent without another word.
Bresis watched him go with a sinking heart. She refused to look at Agamemnon.
If she had, she would have seen his face was red with anger. "Of all the warlords loved by the gods, I hate him the most."
Now Bresis looked at him and realized that he was afraid of Achilles. Deathly afraid of him.