Chapter Four – Sand & Power

You could hear the shouts from the other end of the camp.

Agamemnon was not happy. In fact, he was so displeased I think he would have speared me then and there if he didn't need me so much. With Ajax and many of our other best warriors gone, the 'king of kings' knew that he could not do without me. I smiled every time I thought about it.

But that did not stop him from being furious with me for declaring temporary peace with Priam. Do not misunderstand me – I saw and still see his reasons. Prince Hector was dead, the Trojans were in mourning – it would have been the perfect time to strike. But a dangerous cocktail of Briseis' hopelessness, the Trojan king's words and the death of my cousin had found a chink in my armour, where I was vulnerable. And that weakness was the reason I called a truce.

I knew it would anger Agamemnon. Maybe that was another reason I did it.

The king of kings sat in his throne, spouting some rubbish about sand and Troy and soldiers. I was only half listening, thinking solely of the Trojan priestess in my tent. I knew that I could have any woman in Greece with a click of my fingers, but this one was different. This one would require chasing, but she intrigued me, and I was only too happy to continue the hunt.

"A great victory was won today." Agamemnon said, on his high horse about the battle on the beach. "But that victory is not yours. Kings did not kneel to Achilles. Kings did not pay homage to Achilles." He continued, spitting out my name as if it were poison in my mouth.

"Perhaps the kings were too far behind to see." I replied, ever calm, though my anger was mounting by the second. "The soldiers won the battle."

At this Agamemnon exploded, standing from his throne and raising his voice so loud I expected the whole of the Greek camp to hear. "History remembers kings, not soldiers!" he shouted. "Tomorrow we'll batter down the gates of Troy. I'll build monuments to victory on every island of Greece. I'll carve Agamemnon in the stone."

I half smiled. "Be careful, king of kings. First you need the victory."

I'm sure Agamemnon was about to shout some more when something flickered across his face; a memory, perhaps, and his mood changed.

"Your men sacked the temple of Apollo, yes?"

"You want gold, take it. It's my gift, to honour your courage. Take what you wish."

My 'king' smiled, apparently unaware of my mockery. "I already have."

He called for two of his soldiers, and I waited, expecting them to appear with gold or spices or something from the temple. I didn't need any of it; they were welcome.

But then, the sound of a whimper.

I spun round.

There she stood, flanked by the soldiers. I say stood – she could barely keep herself upright. Her hair covered her face, but I could still see tear tracks made in the dust and sweat.

Suddenly I was filled by a surge of anger. Briseis was mine; she was given to me by my men. What right did Agamemnon have to enter my tent and take her from me? What right at all?

"I've no argument with your brothers," I said, addressing the soldiers, "but if you don't release her, you'll never see home again. Decide."

Agamemnon shouted, "Guards!" and out of nowhere a dozen or so men sprung up. I pulled out my sword, prepared to defend myself. If they really thought they had any chance against me then –

"Stop!"

Hearing Briseis' voice, I turned. She had broken free; some of that fight had returned and now she was looking at me, her eyes sparkling with fire and tears.

"Too many men have died today," she choked, and stared harder. "If killing is your only talent, that's your curse. I don't want anyone dying for me."

I wanted so much to defy her, to go ahead and kill one, two, three Mycenaens. To rid myself of the anger that was threatening to release itself at any moment, but something stopped me. Maybe it was the way her voice sliced straight through me, or the way it felt like her deep brown eyes were boring tiny holes in my skin. Either or any way, it was something she did. This girl, nothing but a priestess of the enemy, then and in the year that followed, knew exactly how to make my words and actions seem meaningless.

I threw my sword to the ground.

"Mighty Achilles, silenced by a slave girl." scoffed Agamemnon, who walked slowly over to Briseis. "Tonight, I'll have her give me a bath. And then…" he picked up a strand pf her hair, just as I had done, and breathed in the scent, the heavenly scent of flowers and spices. Jasmine, I thought, "…who knows?"

"You sack of wine!" I shouted, bringing up my sword until it pointed at the pig who had stolen my captive. "Before my time is done, I'll look down on your corpse and smile." I said.

And I meant it.

Now, all the kings of Greece had been called to Agamemnon's tent, myself included. We stood around the edges, watching 'our king' page and gesticulate madly in the centre of the floor. Odysseus' eyes caught mine more than once, but I did not return his smiles.

"Troy is weak." A voice called from beside me. "We must attack her now, while she is still in mourning for her prince."

"Patience, Neleus, patience." Agamemnon held out his hand. "Due to…" he paused, fixing his cold glare on me, "circumstances, Troy shall not be attacked for twelve days." Murmurs and shouts of dissension came from all corners of the tent, but the man in the centre called for silence. "However, on the twelfth night, we shall strike, and burn her to the ground!" He raised his hands and smiled, as if the city was already his.

The noise began again, but now it was claps and cheers. Finally Troy would be ours. After twelve long months, we would breech her walls and walk in her streets. Eat her food and drink her wine.

I wanted to avenge Patroclus. I had already killed his murderer; now I wanted every man and woman in Troy to feel the consequences of their Prince's actions. But now Briseis and Theo were inside those walls, blissfully unaware.

And that changed everything.