In Phthia, in the ruins of a temple covered in ivy, two young men engage in the act of play fighting with wooden swords. The older man has the upper hand of the other, but the younger man does not mind at all.
Patroclus is a talented, lean, flashy young fighter. His sword whirls in the air like a thing alive. Achilles, by contrast, is the apotheosis of the efficient combatant, wasting no energy, waiting for weakness.
"Never hesitate."
Patroclus presses in on the attack. Achilles tilts his head to avoid one thrust, side-steps to avoid another. Spying a momentary opening, he lunges forward and taps Patroclus' belly with the tip of his wood sword.
"You're getting fat, cousin."
Patroclus grins and relaunches his attack, sword spinning with blazing speed. Achilles ducks beneath an arcing swing and sword-taps Patroclus on the back.
"Fancy swordplay, Patroclus. The girls must be impressed."
Patroclus grunts and charges in again. This time a genuine duel develops, featuring splendid repartee and blocking.
"A little nervous, aren't you, Achilles?"
"Terrified."
Achilles raises his right hand and Patroclus lifts his sword to block the blow, but Achilles no longer holds his sword in his right hand. With his sword in his left hand, Achilles taps Patroclus on the chest. Patroclus stares down at the wood blade.
"You told me never to switch sword hands."
Achilles then rolls his head to losen his neck.
"By the time you know how to do it, you won't be following my orders anymore."
Achilles knocks the woden sword out of Patroclus' hand, and tosses aside his own sparring sword. He cocks his head as if listening to some distant sound. Patroclus, oblivious to the noise, practices his swordplay.
Achilles' foot curls around the wood shaft of one of the spears lying on the ground. In one impossibly fast motion, he flips the spear into the air with his foot, catches it, and throws in the opposite direction from where he was looking.
The bronze warhead blazes between the temple's walls and drives into the trunk of an old fir tree. Odysseus' head was almost in the path of the spear.
"Your reputation for hospitality is fast becoming legend!"
"I don't like that smile, my friend. It's the smile you smile when you want me to fight in another war. Patroclus, my cousin meet Odysseus, king of Ithaca."
"Patroclus, son of Menoetius? I knew your parents well. I miss them. But now you have this one watching over you, eh? Learning from Achilles himself. Every boy in Hellas must be jealous. But Achilles, we need to talk."
"Tell me you're not here at Agamemnon's bidding?"
"I regret so, my friend."
"How many times have I done the savage work for the King of Kings? And when has he ever shown me the respect I've earned?"
"I'm not asking you to fight for him. I'm asking you to fight for the Hellenes."
"Why? Are the Hellenes tired of fighting each other?"
"For now."
"The Trojans never did anything to me."
"They insulted Hellas."
"They insulted one Hellene. A man who couldn't hold onto his wife. what business is that of mine?"
"Your business is war, my friend."
"Is it? Am I the whore of the battlefield? Can my sword be bought and sold? I don't want to be remembered as a tyrant's mercenary."
"Forget Agamemnon. Fight for me. My wife will feel much better if she knows you're by my side. I'll feel much better."
"Is Ajax going to fight in Troy?"
"You've heard of Ajax, Patroclus?"
"Of course, Odysseus. They say he can make an oak tree fall with one swing of his axe."
"Trees don't swing back."
"We're sending the largest fleet that ever sailed. One thousand ships."
"One thousand ships?! Prince Hector, is he as great of a warrior as everyone says he is?"
"The best of all the Trojans. Some say he's better than all the Greeks, too. Even if your cousin doesn't come, Patroclus, I hope you'll join us. We could use a strong arm like yours."
"Play your tricks on me, if you'd like. But leave my cousin out of it."
"You have your sword, I have my tricks. We play with the toys the gods give us. We sail for Troy in three days. This war will never be forgotten. Nor will the heroes who fight in it."
Achilles walks along the cliffs, and sees a woman in the water, and he goes down to meet her.
"I knew they would come for you. Long before you were born, I knew they would come. They want you to fight in Troy. I'm making you another seashell necklace. Like the onces I used to ake you when you were a boy. Do you remember?"
"Mother, tonight I decide."
"If you stay here, in Larissa, you'll have a long, peaceful life. You'll marry a wonderful woman. And you'll have sons and daughters, and they will have children. They'll love you, and when you're gone they'll remember you. But when your children are dead, and their children after them, your name will be lost. If you go to Troy, glory will be yours. They will write stories of your victories for thousands of years. The world will remember your name. If you go to Troy, you will never come home. For your glory walks hand in hand with your doom. And I shall never see you again."
"And you know this, mother?"
"I know your father came home from war, he'd stare at the sea, just like that. He never stayed for long. That is, until he got tired of war. But you, my son. You, I fear may never tire of war. And that will be your downfall."
But across the Aegean sea, the whole city of Troy was full of triumphant music as the return of their princes and a new guest. Women in the city look at Helen wondering where did she come from, and who she was. Helen held her head high as a queen, but as her and Paris were riding in a chariot on their way to the palace, she gripped his hands so tight her knuckles were white. Hector could see the nervousness on her face, but she hid it from Paris.
The princes, Helen, and their retinue of soldiers climb the palace steps, and the first person to greet them is Priam, king of Troy.
"Welcome home, Hector."
"Father."
"Paris."
Priam greets his sons by kissing them on the cheek.
"Father, this is Helen."
"Helen. Helen of Sparta?"
"Helen of Troy."
Helen walks up to Prim nervous, not knowing how he would react to her. He kisses her on both of her cheeks as well.
"I've heard rumours of your beauty. For once, the gossips were right. Come, you must be tired."
Priam leads the princes and Helen into the palace, where the next person Hector greets is hiss wife, Andromache.
"Welcome home, my love. And look."
Andromache's handmaiden brings their baby son Astyanax to Hector
"He's grown. He even has a good grip."
"He is strong He is just like his father. He even hates peas."
Paris looks over at a staircase and sees his young cousin, in her brand new priestess robes.
"Briseis!"
"Paris!"
"Beloved cousin! Your beauty grows with each new moon!"
Hector came over to greet Briseis as well.
"Briseis, did you miss me, little dove? I see you're a servant of Apollo now."
"The young men of Troy were devastated when Briseis chose the virgin robes."
"Uncle."
"Now, all three of our princesses are priestesses, father."
King Priam then hands both of his sons a goblet of wine, and each man spills a drop as an offering to their gods.