Achilles' oarsmen holler encouragement to their shipmates and check to see that their boat is safely in the lead. Achilles stands in the prow, scanning the Trojan shore. Patroclus stands beside him. Eurdorus, a Myrmidon lieutenant and Achilles' right hand man, approaches Achilles.
"Should we wait for the others, my lord?"
Achilles marks the progress of the other ships. The nearest is a quarter-mile back. The Myrmidons not rowing suit up for battle.
"They brought us here for war, didn't they?"
"Yes, my lord, but Agamemnon-."
"Do you fight for me, Eudorus, or Agamemnon?"
"I fight for you, my lord."
"Then fight for me. And let the servants of Agamemnon fight for him."
In Agamemnon's warship, Agamemnon, Menelaus, and Nestor stand in the front of the ship, watching the beaches of Troy come closer to them.
"Whose ship is that?"
Nestor, seeing the black sail, knows immediately whose ship it is.
"Black sail. It's Achilles."
"What is that fool doing? He's going to take the beach of Troy with fifty men?!"
In the Trojan fortifications, the soldiers and archers check all of their equipment one last time. Hector's second in command, Tecton, runs inside to the cavernous building is crowded with armaments. Racks and racks of spears, swords, breastplates, and shields. Hector watches as hundreds of male citizens rush into the armory and are issued weapons by Trojan soldiers.. The faces of the men reflect fear, excitement, and resolve. Tecton approaches Hector and bows.
"The Apollonian guard?"
"Waiting at the city gates, my prince."
"Good. Lysander, how long before the army is ready?"
"Half our men are still coming in from the countryside. We have to arm them, we have to match them with the right officers."
"How long?"
"Noon?"
"Make it sooner.I want patrols to scour the countryside. Check every home, every pasture. I want every Trojan brought inside the walls. If they can't walk, carry them."
Lysander bows his head. Hector walks swiftly away, followed by Tecton. Lysander and the other Trojans watch their prince with silent respect. There is no doubt who leads the city.
Back on Achilles' warship, Though the oarsmen continue to pull, everyone is now armored. Achilles sees Patroclus, armed and ready to fight.
"Where are you going?"
"To fight the Trojans."
Achilles shook his head and takes away Patroclus' gear.
"You're not ready."
"I am ready. You taught me how to fight."
"And you're a good student, but you're not a Myrmidon are the fiercest soldiers in Hellas. Each of them has bled for me before. I can't fight the Trojans if I'm worrying about you, cousin. You stay back and guard the ship."
Patroclus looks about the deck. The only unarmored man aboard is an old, one-legged cook, mending spears. Patroclus angrily strips off his breastplate and drops it to the deck.
Hector and Tecton gallop through the gate. They rein in their horses and look over the elite Apollonian guard, eighty of Troy's finest soldiers, riding well-groomed, snorting mounts. When Hector speaks his voice is clear and steady.
"All my life I've lived by a code, and the code is simple. Honor the gods. Love your woman. And defend your country."
The Apollonian guard roared with valour.
"Troy is mother to us all. Fight for her!"
The men roar and thrust their spears into the air. Hector leads the charge to the beach.
Achilles stands in his ship's bow, scanning the Trojan dunes. He turns to face his men. He smiles at all of them.
"Myrmidons, we are brothers of the sword. I'd rather fight alongside you than any army of thousands. Let no man forget how menacing we are. We are lions."
The Myrmidons cheer and Achilles points his sword toward Troy.
"Do you know what's waiting beyond that beach?! Immortality! Take it, it's yours!"
The Myrmidons raise their swords and cry out with one voice. The oarsmen give one last mighty pull on their oars and beach the tar-caulked keel of the warship on Trojan sand. Achilles puts on his helmet, grabs a coiled rope anchored to a bronze cleat, and rappels down to the beach. The Myrmidons follow him, tossing the ropes off the deck and shimmying down to the beach.
The archers behind the fortifications watch the Myrmidons climb down from their ship. Their captain raises his hand.
"Wait, wait. Now!"
The archers rise and release their arrows.
Hundreds of arrows whistle through the air. Four of the Myrmidons climbing down cry out as arrows hit them, they tumble into the sea. Other arrows rip into the packed sand or zip harmlessly into the water. The Myrmidons, clustered together and holding their shields above their heads, look to Achilles. Achilles makes a hand signal. Half his men split off and run to the fortifications on their left, howling like wolves as arrows rain down.
Patroclus huddles under the railing beside the cook as arrow after arrow screams by. A flaming arrow hits one of the sails, and then another. The sails begin to burn. The cook dragged Patroclus to him.
"Help me get the sails down!"
The cook limps over to the sails, ignoring the arrows that rain around him. Patroclus takes a deep breath and runs in a crouch to the cook. Together they lower the burning sails.
Achilles sprints toward the archers, half his men behind him. The archers let off another volley. More Myrmidons fall.
Agamemnon, Menelaus, and Nestor watch the battle from the prow of their ship. They're still half a mile away.
"The man wants to die."
Agamemnon hears SHOUTS of Achilles' name from the other ships, a great clamor as men bash the flats of their swords against their shields and cheer their hero on. Agamemnon grits his teeth and glares at the distant Achilles. Nestor notices Agamemnon's barely concealed fury. He speaks quietly, so no one else can hear.
"Give him his battle. You'll take the war."
"Give him too many battles and the men will forget who's king."
Hector and his men near the high dunes, galloping at breakneck speed.
Achilles, three arrows in his shield, sprints across the sands. Arrows tear through the air about him. No man alive can run with Achilles.
He leaps over the fortification, sword flashing before his feet ever touch the ground. The archers crumple to the ground as Achilles' sword cuts through them. In a moment the Myrmidons catch up to Achilles and lay into the archers. Within seconds they massacre them. Achilles turns and nods to the temple: the next target. Eudorus gasps for air. Achilles regards him with amusement.
"Breathe, my friend."
Eudorus takes two deep breaths. Achilles dashes for the temple. His Myrmidons follow behind.
The archers at the temple unleash a fusillade of arrows. Every few yards another Myrmidon falls. Several of them are wounded, but if they're not dead they keep moving forward.
Ajax's ship is one hundred yards from shore. Legendary Ajax, a huge man, brutally muscled, head shaved, face and body scarred, stands in the prow, watching Achilles.
"Look at him, hogging all of the glory."
He walks over to his rowers, grabs an oarsmen on the front bench under the armpits and tosses him away. Ajax sits, grabs the oar handle, and begins rowing maniacally, the veins in his massive arms bulging through the skin.
"Row, you lazy whores, row! Hellenes are dying!"
The oarsmen redouble their efforts and the ship leaps over the waves toward the shore.
Hector and the Apollonian guards rein in their horses atop the dunes. Hector sees Ajax's ship plowing into the beach. Hundreds of other ships are close behind. The Trojan archers rain arrows down on Ajax's ship. Several flaming arrows catch in the hull and begin to burn.
"We can't hold the beach, my prince."
Hector sees where Achilles and the Myrmidons are heading.
"They're trying to take the temple."
"No true believer would spill blood in Apollo's temple."
Hector, increasingly uneasy, watches Achilles dodge arrows. He turns and points to the spot where Ajax's ship has landed. He tells an officer his next orders.
"The archers need help. Burn as many ships as you can, but don't sacrifice yourself. Bring the men back to the city."
The officer bows and leads sixty guards to the fortifications. Hector tells the remaining guards to follow him. He gallops toward the temple, Tecton and his men behind him.
Achilles, his shield now quilled with arrows, hurls his spear. It catches the closest archer just above the breastplate, tearing through the man's throat. The archers near by throw down their bows and take up the spears racked behind them.
But Achilles is already upon them, cutting them down with ruthless precision. Every time his bronze sword flashes through the air another Trojan falls, and Achilles keeps sweeping through them, his face painted with Trojan blood. The other Myrmidons are fighting beside their leader now, and the Trojan archers are no match for the Myrmidons in hand to hand combat. Soon the temple area belonged to the Hellenes.
Ajax and his men rappel down the ship's hull while arrows rip into wood and flesh. Ajax carries a giant battle-axe and a shield twice the size of most men's. When he reaches the surf he doesn't wait for his men. He roars and charges at the archers in the dunes.
Achilles, not even breathing hard after the slaughter, removes his helmet and rests it on the wall. The surviving Myrmidons search the grounds, dispatching any dying hurries over to Achilles' side.
"The temple is secure, my lord."
"The sun god is the patron of Troy, our enemy. Take whatever treasure you can find."
The Myrmidons cheer and rush into the temple.
"With your permission, my lord."
"Speak, Eudorus."
"Apollo sees everything. Perhaps, perhaps it is not wise to offend him."
Achilles nods and walks over to the towering gold statue of Apollo in front of the temple. Eudorus watches in horror as Achilles climbs atop the statue and beheads Apollo with a swing of his sword. Achilles beats at his armour and shouts up to the sky, practically daring the gods to strike him down.
"Huh?! Where is your strike?!"
Hector and Tecton rein in their horses.
"He dares attack Apollo?!"
Hector spurs his horse and races toward the invaders, followed by his twenty men. The other sixty Apollonians gallop to Ajax's landing spot. Hearing hoofbeats, Achilles turns and spots Hector and his men, two hundred yards away.
"Get inside the temple and warn the men."
"Yes, my lord."
Eudorus hurried inside to warn the men, but Achilles stops him.
"Eudorus, wait."
The Myrmidon captain stops. Achilles hefts a spear, judges the distance, and throws. One hundred yards from Achilles, the spearhead finds its mark, Tecton's breastplate. Tecton is knocked from his horse and skewered to the ground. He clutches at the wooden shaft, not comprehending his fate.
Hector reins in his horse and stares at his fallen captain. The man is finished. Hector turns to look at Achilles. Eudorus's eyes are wide. No other man alive could have thrown a spear that far or that accurately.
"Now you can go."
Eudorus runs inside the temple. Hector kicks his horse and gallops toward Achilles. His men cry out and follow him. Achilles waits. Hector raises his own spear. When he is fifty yards away, he throws. At the very last moment, Achilles bends his head to one side, an almost lackadaisical movement. The spear rips through the air occupied by Achilles' head half a moment before. Achilles smiles.
Hector draws his sword and charges, his men right behind him. Achilles walks, with insulting insouciance, into the temple. A series of high steps lead inside the temple. Hector and the Trojans dismount and proceed cautiously to the temple.
An arrow sticks out of Ajax's leg but he doesn't seem to notice it. He bulls forward, giant shield held in front, and slams into the Trojan ranks. Where Achilles is all grace and speed, Ajax is brute force. Parrying his blows is useless. His battle axe splits bronze shields, bronze swords, bronze helmets. The sound of his axe carving through a breastplate and the man beneath the breastplate is like nothing else on earth. As Ajax drops another Trojan, he lifts his axe to the heavens.
"I am Ajax, breaker of stones, widow-maker of Salamis! Look upon me, Trojans, and despair!"
The Apollonians join the fight against the Greeks. The Guards are far better than the archers at hand-to-hand combat.
Hector and his men enter the temple. Eyes adjusting to the gloomy light, they gingerly advance. All is quiet. Evidence of looting is everywhere. At the back of the temple, stairs lead up to the altar room. Hector walks toward the stairs. Blood trickles down the steps. Hector raises his eyes. Achilles stands atop the staircase, both hands wrapped around the hilt of his sword, the sword point resting on the top step. He stares down at Hector. War cries explode through the temple. The Myrmidons burst from their hiding places and rush the Trojans. Hector is an obvious target. Two Myrmidons charge him, their spears leveled.
If Achilles is the apotheosis of martial grace, Hector is something altogether different, a man of ordinary gifts who has become an extraordinary warrior by dint of experience, endless training, and powerful intelligence. As the Myrmidons charge he waits. At the last moment he swings his sword, slicing both spearheads from their shafts. The Myrmidons stare at their decapitated spears. Hector doesn't give them a chance to recover. He pounces, sword flashing, and both men fall to the temple floor. Achilles watches from the top step. Hector begins running up the stairs. Achilles disappears inside the altar room. Another Myrmidon bounds up the stairs after Hector. The prince wheels about and kicks the Myrmidon in the breastplate. The soldier tumbles down the steps. Hector continues up the stairs.
As more Hellenes ships make landfall, the Apollonian officer sees that their position is no longer defensible.
"Back to the city! Back to the city!"
The Trojans begin to retreat. The archers still turn to fire whenever there's time. Mounted Guards haul fleeing archers onto their horses.
Hector finds the bodies of two priests. They lie on the stone floor, limbs splayed, throats slit. Sitting atop the altar, half-hidden by the shadows, is Achilles. He's a terrible sight to behold, splattered with blood, his bronze sword still dripping.
"You are very brave, but very stupid to come after me alone."