"You must be Hector."
Hector stares at Achilles a moment before kneeling by the dead priests' bodies.
"A private audience with the prince of Troy. I'm flattered. Do you know who I am?"
"These priests weren't armed."
Hector closes the eyes of the murdered priests. Achilles jumps down from the altar and looks at the bodies.
"I didn't kill them. Cutting old men's throats. There's no honor in that."
"Honor? Children and fools fight for honor. I fight for my country."
Hector charges. Achilles dances back, staying just out of reach. Achilles looks relaxed, almost playful.
"Fight me!"
"Why kill you, prince of Troy, with no one here to see you fall?"
Achilles backs out of an archway opening onto the bright day outside. Hector follows. Down at the beach, scores of Hellene ships are on the sand.
"Why did you come here?"
Achilles gestures at the invading flotilla.
"They'll be talking about this war for a thousand years."
"In a thousand years, even the dust from our bones will be gone."
"Yes, prince. But our names will remain."
A band of bloodied Myrmidons, led by Eudorus, emerges from the temple. Hector, surrounded by enemies, warily backs off.
"The Trojans are dead, my lord."
"Go home, prince of Troy. Drink some wine. Make love to your wife. Tomorrow we'll have our war."
"You speak of war as if it's a game. But how many wives wait at Troy's gate for husbands they'll never see again?"
"Perhaps your brother can comfort them. I hear he's very good at charming other mens' wives."
Hector stares at Achilles and the Myrmidons for another moment before walking away.
"Why did you let him go?"
"It's too early in the day for killing princes."
Thousands of Hellene soldiers on the beach watch as the Trojans retreat, many of the archers riding behind their Apollonian saviors. Hector mounts his horse and rides back toward the city. When the Hellenes see Achilles climbing onto the temple's roof they stare in awe, silent. Achilles raises his bloodied bronze sword toward the sun. The clamour that erupts from the beach is deafening. Thousands of men cheering and yelling Achilles' name.
Agamemnon, still aboard his ship, waits for the gangplank to be lowered. His dark eyes are cold and hateful as he listens to the men cheering.
Soldiers tug more and more ships onto the sand. From the landed ships, primitive cranes are already beginning to lower boxes of provisions, military material, and horses. Achilles walks across the beach, carrying his helmet, accepting the congratulations of the troops. Ajax, shirtless, strides over.
"Achilles!"
Achilles halts. For a moment there seems to be tension in the air. Everyone watches. Ajax pulls Achilles into a bear hug.
"You're as fearless as the gods."
"The gods are immortal. What do they have to fear?"
Ajax laughs and releases Achilles.
"I'm honoured to go to war with you."
Achilles nods and grips Ajax's thick arm.
"As am I."
Achilles continues walking. He sees Odysseus walking down a gangplank from his ship to the beach.
"If you sailed any slower, the war would be over."
"I don't mind missing the start of it, as long as I'm here at the end."
Achilles smiles and keeps walking. He arrives at the Myrmidon's newly established base. Patroclus, Eudorus, and the other surviving Myrmidons greet Achilles.
"My lord. I have something to show you."
Achilles follows Eudorus and the grinning Myrmidons to a large tent twenty yards inland from their beached ship. A few Myrmidons hammer the last tent pegs deep into the sand. Eudorus holds open the tent flap. Achilles looks at his captain for a moment before entering the tent. No rugs have been laid down yet, so loot from the temple has been stacked on the sand. Gold chalices, black amphorae, woven tapestries, goatskins filled with sacred wine.
But Achilles does not look at this plunder. Bound by the wrists to the center pole of the tent is Briseis, Cassandra, and Chryseis, dressed in their white robes. He stares down at Briseis.
Briseis is the one facing Achilles. Terrified but trying to retain her composure, she returns Achilles' stare. Robes torn, hair disheveled, bleeding from the lip. She still possesses her innate dignity and strength. Something changes in Achilles' eyes when he looks at her.
"The men found them hiding in the temple. They thought they would, amuse you."
"I am thankful for the gesture, Eudorus, but I don't need all three of them."
"What would you like me to do with them, my lord?"
Achilles keeps staring down at Briseis. He apparently likes how he feels when he looks at her.
"I will keep the brunette. Give the blonde to Patroclus. And the redhead, take her, take her to Ajax."
"Yes, my lord."
Eudorus had another Myrmidon take Chryseis to Patroclus' tent, who was right next to Achilles, while Eudorus walked Cassandra to Ajax's tent.
"What's your name?"
Briseis stares at him but doesn't answer. Achilles becomes aware, for the first time, that he's covered in blood. He wipes a hand across his face. Briseis looks about the tent, as if searching for a way out.
"You're safter in this tent than out there, believe me."
"You killed Apollo's priests."
"I've killed men in five countries, but never a priest."
"Then your men did! The sun god will have his vengeance."
"What's he waiting for?"
Briseis is stunned by such blunt blasphemy but she can't take her eyes off him, because Achilles, after all, is Achilles.
"The right time to strike!"
Achilles removes his armour and starts splashing water over himself.
"His priests are dead and his acolytes are captives. I think your god is afraid of me."
"Apollo is master of the sun. He fears nothing."
"Then where is he?!"
"You're nothing but a killer! You wouldn't know anything about the gods!"
Achilles dips a washcloth into a bucket of hot water, and begins to wash the stains of battle off of him.
"You haven't seen twenty summers and you think you know my heart? I know more about the gods than priests could ever teach you. You're royalty, aren't you?You've spent years talking down to men, you must be royalty. What's your name?"
Achilles pulls a small, sharp knife from his belt. Briseis stares at the blade. Achilles walks over to her and cuts the ropes that bind her. She sits back, rubbing the chafed skin of her wrists, still watching Achilles. He sheathes the knife.
"Even the servants of Apollo have names."
"Briseis."
"Are you afraid, Briseis?"
"Should I be?"
"My lord."
"What is it, Eudorus?"
"King Agamemnon requests your presence."
"Why would I want to look at that pig when I can look at her?"
The whole time Achilles and Eudorus are talking, Achilles and Briseis are practically having a staring contest.
"All the kings are in his tent, celebrating the victory."
"Give me a moment."
Eudorus leaves the tent, letting his master gather his composure before meeting with Agamemnon. Achilles contiues to study Briseis.
"You don't need to fear me, girl. You're the only Trojan who can say that."
Achilles arrives at Agamemnon's muscular guards stand by the opening to Agamemnon's tent. Achilles, wearing clean clothes, doesn't bother waiting for the guards' permission to enter. He brushes past them and through the tent flap.
The largest tent on the beach, Agamemnon's command quarters are a lush affair, decorated with the spoils of a dozen wars. Several aides-de-camp bustle in and out on various errands. The Hellene kings are there. Odysseus, Ajax, Menelaus, etc. Agamemnon sits on a heavy wood throne, garishly inlaid with gold, mother-of-pearl, and precious stones. Triopas, king of Thessaly, kneels before Agamemnon.
"You've won a great victory, king of kings. No one thought the Trojan beach could be captured so easily."
He hands Agamemnon a ceremonial dagger with a gold hilt.
"A beautiful gift, Triopas. You will be among the first to walk the streets of Troy tomorrow."
Triopas stands and bows. Achilles has watched this exchange with disbelief. He glances at Odysseus, who shrugs. Now Nestor, king of the Pylos, kneels before Agamemnon and hands him an urn decorated with painted warriors.
"My father Neleus had this urn made to commemorate his victory at Cyparisseis. I present it to you in honor of an even more memorable victory."
"Thank you, old friend. Tomorrow we'll eat supper in the gardens of Troy."
Nestor stands and bows. Agamemnon places the dagger and urn beside a pile of other luxurious gifts. As the kings file out of the tent, Odysseus clasps Achilles' shoulder and speaks to him out of the others' earshot.
"War is young men dying and old men talking. You know this. Ignore the politics."
Achilles smiles at him andOdysseus exits the tent. Agamemnon deigns to notice Achilles waiting for him.
"Leave us."
The aides exit, leaving Achilles and Agamemnon alone. Achilles eyes the pile of gifts.
"Apparently, you've won some great victory today."
"Ah, perhaps you didn't notice. The Trojan beach belonged to Priam in the morning. It belongs to Agamemnon in the afternoon."
"You can have the beach. I didn't come here for sand."
"No, you came because you want your name to last through the ages. A great victory was won today. But the victory is not yours. Kings did not kneel to Achilles. Kings did not bring homage to Achilles."
"Perhaps the kings were too far behind to see that the soldiers won the battle."
"History remembers the kings, not soldiers. Tomorrow we'll batter down the gates of Troy. I'll build monuments to victory on every island of Hellas. I'll carve my name into the stone. My name will last forever. Your name is written in the sand, for the waves to wash away."
"Be careful, king of kings. First, you need the victory."
Achilles turns to leave the tent, but Agamemnon stops him.
"One more thing, son of Peleus."
Achilles stops dead in his tracks, rage building up inside of him.
"I don't want to hear my father's name from your mouth."
"The first pick of the battle's spoils always goes to the commander. Your men sacked the temple of Apollo, yes?"
"You want gold? Take it, it's my gift, to honor your courage. Take what you want."
"I already have. Aphareus! Haemon!"
Two battle-scarred soldiers, drag Briseis into the tent. Her face is bruised. Clearly she's been slapped around.
"The spoils of war."
"No argument with you brothers, but if you don't release her, you'll never see home again. Decide!"
"Guards!"
The two men guarding the eterance into the tent enter the room with their swords drawn. Achilles is surrounded.
"Stop!"
Everyone looks at Briseis. Even though her robes are torn and she is beaten, she carries an aura of nobility and courage around her.
"Too many men have died today!"
She narrows her eyes at Achilles, and he can feel her staring at him.
"If killing is your only talent, that's your curse. I don't want anyone dying for me."
Everyone is quiet until Agamemnon laughs.
"Mighty Achilles, silenced, by a slave girl!"
"She's not a slave!"
"She is now."
Agamemnon walks over to Briseis. He was getting too close for comfort. He picks up a lock of her hair and holds it o his nose.
"Tonight, I'll have her give me a bath. And then, who knows."
"You sack of wine!"
Achilles cirlces the room, and he points his sword at Agamemnon.
"Before my time is done, I will look down upon your corpse and smile!"
Achilles leaves Agamemnon's tent to go sulk in his own.
Meanwhile, in Patroclus' tent, his captive has not said a word. Of the three women, Chryseis is the most frightened. Patroclus thinks that is why Achilles gave her to him. He prepares a plate of food for her, and he sets it down in front of her. He cut away her binds, but she has not moved.
"You don't have to be afraid of me. I won't hurt you."
She turns and catches a glimpse of his face, but she still has fear written all over her face. He also set a bowl of water and a wash cloth next to her, so she could clean the wounds on her face.
"My name is Patroclus. I am Achilles' cousin. You look to be about the same age as me. What made you want to be a priestess of Apollo?"
Chryseis still says nothing, so Patroclus decides to leave his tent and go talk with Achilles. As he is almost outside, she finally says something.
"My name is Chryseis . My father was the high priest of Apollo. His name was Chryses."
"So, it seems you were named after him."
"Yes."
"For your safety, you should stay in here. If you want to go outside, I recommend not going outside without me. If you do go without me, I can't protect you."
"Do you have a tunic I can change into? My robes are torn, and I would like to sew them back together."
"Of course, I'm sure I can find something for you."
He hands her one of his own tunics, and he leaves the tent to give her some privacy. But he stands guard in front of the flaps so that no one can look inside.