The Chorus retreats to their usual position. As Menelaus sits down downstage left, the lights grow dim, and a spotlight reveals Achilles.

Achilles: Where is he?

Menelaus: Who?

Achilles: When I find him, I'm going to run him through with my javelin—and smile. And while he still lies there, gasping and pleading for mercy, I'm going to bore holes through his ankles and drag a coarse rope through—

Menelaus: You can't! Achilles, he's your commander! That's inhuman!

Achilles: Don't be a fool. I mean Hector.

Menelaus: You heard about Patroclus.

Achilles: Why, what incredible powers of observation you have, Menelaus. Have you been blessed by the gods?

Menelaus: What are you going to do?

Achilles: I thought I'd made that quite clear. I intend to be avenged.

Menelaus: You mean to avenge Patroclus.

Achilles: That's what I said. The Trojans must be shaking in their sandals by now. It's been prophesied that once I take the field, their Citadel must fall.

Menelaus: But you don't really care about that, do you, Achilles?

Achilles: What do you mean?

Menelaus: Patroclus' death didn't make you any nobler. You're still the same selfish Achilles we all know... only more deranged. You may have fooled yourself, but nobody else.

Enter Agamemnon.

Agamemnon: Menelaus. Achilles here has made a complete turnaround. I've never seen anyone mourn his friend so deeply as Achilles does. You're doing a very noble thing, boy.

Menelaus, to Chorus: Oh, come on. I've heard of dramatic irony, but—

Agamemnon: Go on, now, boy! I'm having a feast tonight in my tent, and all my officers are invited. For once, this includes you. Run along, now!

Achilles: I'm honoured, sir.

Exit Achilles.

Menelaus: What was that?

Agamemnon: What?

Menelaus: Don't tell me you can't see through him.

Agamemnon: Who?

Menelaus: Achilles. He's no nobler than he was before! Can't you see it? You're blinded by his subservient attitude towards you. Flattery always was the way to your heart.

Agamemnon: How dare you say such things to me? Menelaus, you're not sitting high in my regard right now. After what you did on the battlefield—what was that? Do you really want us to sail home? In the name of Hades, man, we fought this war for you. All those deaths that you speak of so honourably are for you, you and Helen. And now you suddenly don't care—you who were willing to die in battle for her just a day ago. And all because she kissed Paris? Menelaus, you know she's done much more than that with him. You knew that from the start. You don't run away with someone to read them poetry, for Zeus' sake! And I am not susceptible to flattery, thank you! Keep your tongue to yourself.

Menelaus: Don't you tell me what to do. All your life you've been coming to me for consolation, and as soon as I act anything other than a kindly, quiet support, you explode at me.

Agamemnon: I suppose you'll want to be coming to supper tonight, too?

Menelaus: Of course I would, if my gracious older brother would let me.

Agamemnon: Certainly, brother!

Menelaus: You know, it's very difficult growing up when you have an older sibling who's so much stronger and handsomer than I. I must seem very jealous sometimes.

Agamemnon: Oh, well. I mean, oh.

Menelaus: See? You are susceptible to flattery!

Agamemnon: Get out.

Menelaus: I'll see you tonight.

Exit Menelaus.
Agamemnon strolls irritably stage left, and the lights turn red. Cassandra enters.

Cassandra: You again!

Agamemnon: I said to get out, Menelaus. I don't like you spying on me! ...nasty little boy.

Cassandra: I don't have time for you in my visions. I'm quite busy, thank you!

Agamemnon: Who is this? Is it... is it the Trojan girl?

Cassandra: Your intellect dizzies me.

Agamemnon: I feel a strange fuzzy glow coming over me!

Cassandra: Flattery's been known to do that.

Agamemnon, in an unnecessarily loud tone: Hallo there! Can you hear me?

Cassandra: Yes! Keep it down, will you?

Agamemnon: It's a very long way to Troy.

Cassandra: It's been a scintillating conversation, but I've got doom to forecast. I would be much obliged if you would leave my head now.

Agamemnon: I think perhaps that you can hear me, even if I can't hear you. Let me see... I'm a buff, broad-shouldered man with stunning eyes and... and clear fingernails---

Cassandra: I can see you, you know.

Agamemnon: Devastating smile—

Cassandra: I don't have time for this.

Agamemnon: And I mean, in the sack, I'm a regular Zeus.

Cassandra, horrified: Apollo! This isn't fair! I don't have to tolerate this fool

Chorus: Pity... I was rather amused by it all.

Exit Agamemnon. Lights normal.
Enter Hector, quietly.

Cassandra: That's better. Egh! Horrid man. Now, let's see... if our position is here, then it follows that Agamemnon would attack from there...

Hector: What are you doing in the war room?

Cassandra: Hector. I didn't think you would be here.

Hector: This is no place for you. Cassandra, I've got a city full of innocent women and children. I've got my soldiers to protect. The responsibility of Troy rests on me, and when I need to plan my strategies, I don't need you here to distract me.

Cassandra: Well, why can't I help you? Let me stay. I was just noticing that our south-east side is vulnerable; the Achaians will have noticed that by now. If we station our troops centred around here, we should have enough troops to spare to patrol around the walls—

Hector: Cassandra, I don't care what you have to say.

Cassandra: Why? Why don't you?

Hector: First and foremost, because you know very little of the art of war, and what you do know, I know better. Let's face it: you're a soft, sheltered woman, and I'm a trained warrior.

Cassandra: Oh; and women can't understand anything other than spinning, right?

Hector: As a matter of fact, no. No, they can't. Especially if you're anything to judge by. But that doesn't matter. The truth is, the Achaians have settled with us for a three-day armistice to give Patroclus a proper funeral.

Cassandra: You allowed this?

Hector: I'm against anything that gives the Achaians more time to heal and prepare. But as usual, Priam listened to his golden boy, Paris.

Cassandra: What did Paris say to convince him?

Hector: "An' there's going to be games, an' I can run around and shoot things with my bow!"

Cassandra: Dear Poseidon.

Hector: I could kill him.

Enter Aeneas.

Aeneas: What's she doing in the war room?

Hector: I was just trying to get her out.

Cassandra: Aeneas, what are we going to do when the Achaians have their three-day preparation time? We can't just sit idle.

Hector: Oh, no, you don't. You've stalled long enough. Out you go.

Exit Cassandra, though reluctantly.

Aeneas: Hector, the new reports are in. Our herald counted seventy-nine dead this morning before the Achaians announced their truce.

Hector: Seventy-nine?

Aeneas: And that's just the soldiery. Some noblemen were also killed, including Dolon.

Hector: Well, there's a silver lining in every cloud.

Aeneas: I wasn't sure whether to mourn for the others or to thank Apollo for his demise.

Hector: No death can compensate for the dead now. Not even Paris' can atone, although I would welcome it with a glad heart.

Aeneas: Hector, you need to take a break. I'll take over for a while; you go and pray to Apollo. Maybe he'll give you some respite from all this.

Hector: Thank you... I think I shall.

Exit Aeneas. Hector walks over to the image of Apollo in the war room and kneels before it. Behind him enters Paris, unseen.