The next day, One thousand archers stand in various positions on the broad city walls, quivers of arrows by their sides. Trojan citizens also crowd atop the walls, quiet and sober. Priam sits in a grandstand beneath a blue canopy. Seated by him are city leaders, including Velius and Archeptolemus. Helen stands apart from everyone else. No one is overtly hostile to her, but behind her back people stare and whisper
Below the walls, on the broad field that stretches down from the city gates, the Trojan army has amassed. In the front, Hector and General Glaucus sit astride their horses. The soldiers are disciplined and well-outfitted, arranged in tight formation. Paris rides out to join Hector. Hector examines Paris's face.
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
"I started this war."
Paris searches the faces atop the city wall. He finds Helen. The wind is blowing hard, ruffling her cloak, her hair. There is love in her eyes, and fear and exhaustion. Paris stares up at her for a long time before turning away. A low, ominous rumble grows steadily louder. Hector hears it first. He looks down the vast sloping field toward the sea. Now the other soldiers hear it, and then the citizens atop the walls. All speech ceases. The Trojans quietly wait. The rumbling resolves into the steady beat of war drums.
Fifty thousand Hellenes. The reflection of sunlight off fifty thousand bronze shields, fifty thousand bronze helmets and chest plates, is spectacular. The army looks like a river of lava, flowing uphill. The Trojan soldiers don't quiver or waver, but the expressions on their faces betray their anxiety. The Hellene army is more than twice the size of the Trojan army.
The citizens shield their eyes from the brightness. They exhibit their nervousness more openly than the soldiers. One old woman moans softly, her hand over her mouth. Patroclus, Eudorus, and the rest of the Myrmidons climb to the top of a tall bluff near the beach. From here they can see the broad battlefield a mile away.
The Hellene army halts just beyond arrow range. A delegation of kings, Agamemnon, Nestor, Triopas, Menelaus, Odysseus, and Ajax, all on chariots proceed to the center of the battlefield. Odysseus looks over his shoulder and then yells to Ajax.
"Where is Achilles?"
Ajax looks around him, and he shrugs. Everyone just assumed Achilles would be there. Hector and Paris spur their horses and canter out to meet the Hellenes. The brothers speak without looking at each other.
"Menelaus is a bull. He'll charge you."
Paris nods and listens.
"He's stronger than you, so try not to fight him up close. Keep your distance. Use your quickness."
Hector can see the nervousness in his brother's face.
"Brother, you don't have to do this."
Paris hears his brother, but he continues to ride towards Menelaus. On the walls of Troy, Helen, alone, views the battlefield. An old, spotted hand takes her elbow. She turns and looks into Priam's eyes.
"Come, sit with me, child."
Helen follows the king to his grandstand and sits beside him. She's aware of people staring at them but he seems oblivious.
"All my life, I have prayed against this day."
"Yes, my king."
"Call me father, dear child."
Startled by this affection, she hesitates before responding.
"Forgive me, father, for, bringing this to your doorstep."
Priam shakes his head and smiles sadly.
"I blame you for nothing. Everything is in the hands of the gods. Besides, how could I blame anyone for falling in love with Paris?"
Helen looks out at the battlefield, fixing on Paris, at this distance a tiny figure on horseback. Priam takes her hand.
Hector and Paris ride up to the Hellene kings. Menelaus stares at Paris, his fingers tapping the hilt of his sword. Paris does not make eye contact. The kings step down from their chariots and the Trojan princes dismount from their horses. Both armies are lined up several hundred yards apart. Agamemnon surveys the Trojan army.
"I see you're not hiding behind your high walls. Valiant of you. Ill-advised, but valiant."
"You come here uninvited. Go back to your ships, and go home."
"We've come too far, Prince Hector."
"Prince? What princes are these?These are not princes. What son of a king would accept a man's hospitality, eat his food, drink his wine, and then steal his wife in the middle of the night?"
"The sun was shining when your wife left you."
Menelaus draws his sword. He points it at the city walls.
"She's up there watching, isn't she. Good. I want her to watch you die."
Agamemnon places his hand on his brother's shoulder.
"Not yet, brother. Look around you, Hector. I have brought al of the warriors of Hellas to your shores."
"You can still save Troy, young prince."
"I have two wishes. If you grant them, no more of your people need to die. First, give Helen back to my brother. Second, Troy must submit to my command, to fight for me whenever I call."
"You want me to look upon your army and tremble. Well, I see them. I see fifty thousand men brought here to fight for one man's greed."
"Be careful, boy. My mercy has limits."
"I've seen the limits of your mercy. And I tell you now that no son of Troy will ever submit to a foreign ruler."
"Then every son of Troy shall die."
"There is another way."
All of the kings have their eyes on Paris.
"I love Helen. I won't give her up. And neither will you. So let's fight our own battle. Let the winner take Helen home, and that will be the end of it."
"A brave offer, but not enough."
Menelaus pulls Agamemnon aside and speaks to him out ofthe others' earshot.
"Let me kill this little peacock."
"I didn't come here for your pretty wife. I came for Troy."
"And I came for my honor. His every breath insults me. Let me kill him. When he's lying in the dust, give the signal to attack. I'll have my revenge and you'll have your city."
Agamemnon ponders the offer. He nods. They rejoin the others.
"I accept your offer. And tonight, I'll drink to your bones."
He walks over to his chariot and grabs his shield. Hector helps Paris into his helmet and speaks quietly to him.
"He doesn't have the stamina he once did. Make him swing and miss. He'll tire."
Paris nods. He turns toward Menelaus but quickly turns back and grabs Hector's arm.
"Hector!"
Hector waits. Paris opens his mouth but no words come out. He tries again.
"If I fall, tell Helen, tell her-."
"I will."
"Don't let Menelaus hurt her. Make him swear-."
"Think about your sword and his sword. Nothing else."
Hector hugs him close for a moment and releases him. Paris walks toward the center of the field, where Menelaus waits.
It is difficult for Paris to see from inside his bronze helmet. His peripheral vision is severely restricted, and the nose guard bisects your vision. His breathing sounds amplified, impossibly loud and half- panicked. But there's no turning back. Menelaus stands in the center of the vast battlefield, patient and menacing, carving the air with lazy strokes of his sword. Paris look back and see Hector. Hector nods, trying to encourage him, but he looks worried. Behind Hector is the Trojan army, twenty-five thousand silent men. Behind the army is the city of Troy. Atop those walls, beneath that blue canopy, Priam is watching, and Helen. Paris turns back to Menelaus. He is smiling at him.
Menelaus charges at Paris and swings mightily, trying to knock the prince's head from his shoulders. Paris manages to duck beneath the flashing blade. Menelaus fights with little art and great savagery, exploiting his superior strength. Paris is quicker. He nearly surprises the bigger man with a fast sword thrust, but Menelaus dominates the fight, hammering Paris's shield with a furious barrage of blows. Paris steps away and tries another thrust, but this time Menelaus sidesteps and smashes Paris in the jaw with the hilt of his sword, knocking the prince's helmet off. Paris falls, blood leaking from his nose and mouth. Hector, frustrated and powerless to help, tries to will his brother to victory. Hector mumbles under his breath.
"Get up, Paris. Get up."
Ajax and Odysseus, standing together, watch the bloodied prince. Ajax looks disgusted, Odysseus is amused.
"This is the prince of Troy? In Salamis, the women fight better."
"But they're not as pretty."
Helen, unable to sit, now stands at the wall, watching her lover battle her husband. Priam stands beside her.
Patroclus and the other Myrmidons are still on the bluff watching the battle. Eudorus is amazed that even with Menelaus' age, he is still fierce on the battlefield.
"Menelaus still knows how to fight."
Menelaus swings at the fallen prince but Paris is able to block the blow with his shield and scramble to his feet. Menelaus points to the sky. Three crows circle above.
"You see the crows? They've never tasted a prince before."
The Spartan king's mind games are working. Paris wears the face of a man who does not want to fight. He swings clumsily and Menelaus manages to catch his wrist. The Spartan grins and raises his sword for the kill. Paris lashes out with his free hand, punching the Spartan hard in the jaw. Menelaus grunts and shoves the Trojan away. He spits out a tooth. He's no longer smiling. Odysseus and Ajax exchange a glance.
"The women in Salamis can still fight better, Odysseus."
"I don't think the women in Salamis would want to fight Menelaus, Ajax."
But Menelaus bores in again, blow after blow. Finally his bronze blade bites into Paris's thigh. Paris staggers backward, blood flowing down his leg. He swings desperately but Menelaus parries, knocking the sword from Paris' hand. Paris stares at his fallen sword, five feet away. Paris runs. Menelaus snarls and chases after him.
The citizens seem shocked that their prince and hero would flee before a Hellene assailant. They look at each other and whisper, glancing at Priam, curious to see his reaction.
"Fight him, son. Fight him."
Helen stares at the battlefield, her face unreadable. Paris runs to Hector, gasping for breath, the blood pouring down his face and leg. He falls to his knees before his older brother. Hector stares at Paris and then at Menelaus, who has stopped seven feet from the princes.
"Fight me, you coward! Fight me!"
Paris, unable to look at either man or speak, trembles by his brother's side. Hector, completely at a loss, lays his hand on Paris' head. Agamemnon signals for the driver of his chariot.
"The Trojans have violated the agreement. We march."
The driver nods. Agamemnon hops onto the chariot and they ride toward the army to deliver the orders. Hector looks from his brother to the enraged Menelaus.
"This is not worthy of honour. This is not worthy of royalty."
Hector looks at his brother but Paris is not looking at anybody. He gasps for breath, the blood streaming from his wounds. Hector glances at the Hellene army, then back to Paris.
"If he doesn't fight, Troy is doomed."
"Paris."
Paris shakes his head, blood dripping from his nose.
"No, no!"
"The fight is over."
"The fight is not over. Stand back, Prince Hector."
Hector stares at the king, judging his intentions.
"I'll kill him at your feet, I don't care."
"He's my brother."
Menelaus charges, sword raised overhead. In one motion Hector draws his own sword and plunges the point through Menelaus's breastplate. Menelaus's momentum carries him forward, until his breastplate touches the hilt of Hector's sword. Menelaus, eyes wide open, stares down at the blood which now begins rushing down his armor. He looks up at Hector. Hector pulls his blade out. Menelaus falls to the ground.