Enter Agamemnon, Odysseus, and Breseis. From the back of the stage, the other characters come forwards.

Agamemnon: Are we all here?

Enter Achilles.

Agamemnon: Let's begin. Menelaus, are you feeling all right?

Menelaus: Perfect.

Agamemnon: Oh. Listen, everybody! I understand rumours are circulating about horses.

Diomedes: Indeed.

Agamemnon: I'm here to enlighten you. All shall be revealed.

Odysseus: We're building a horse.

Ajax: Everyone knows you don't build horses. Geez.

Diomedes: I think he means "house."

Antilochus: Why should we want to build a house?

Ajax: Well, I know I'm sick of tents. I'd rather have something a little more permanent, and more subject to interior decoration.

Achilles: Hear, hear.

Antilochus: Oh, come on! We're soldiers! We don't need whitewash and flower pots! We're men! We live in tents!

Achilles: Hear, hear.

Agamemnon: I said "horse," and I mean "horse." It's going to be made of wood.

Antilochus: What's it for?

Agamemnon: It's a trick. We hide in it, and the Trojans take us inside their walls. From the inside, we open the gate at night. And then it's all over.

Achilles: Tactics! Who needs them? We can battle our way through the Citadel! We don't need their effeminate thinking or their double-crossing horses.

Odysseus: He needs to think outside the box.

Breseis: He is the box!

Achilles: You think you're good?

Agamemnon: Like it or not, we're building the horse—and quickly. We don't have much time. Here's the battle plan: Achilles, you hold the field. Make for Hector; he's their strongest fighter. Once he's down, the Trojans will be lost. Meanwhile, Ajax, Diomedes, Antilochus, Odysseus, Menelaus and I will hide in the horse and wait. Achilles, even if you haven't managed to defeat Hector yet, make for the Scaean Gate by nightfall. We'll open it for you, and you can let your armies in. And then... and then Troy is destroyed, and you, brother, will have Helen back.

Menelaus: What?

Agamemnon: Just think of it... In a day, you'll be sailing for home, and Helen will be at your side.

Menelaus: I don't know if I can believe that. After so long...

Agamemnon: And it will be wonderful! And years from now, when we're all old, we can get together and tell stories of this war! Won't it be grand? We dilapidated soldiers sipping our wine and saying things like, "Oh, I remember Hector. He wasn't as great as all that, you know!"

Odysseus: And, "Oh, this pot? I won that in a footrace I didn't even run in!"

Diomedes: "My scar? Don't worry about it. I got it tripping over Little Ajax."

Ajax: Poor Little Ajax.

Antilochus: "What, you don't like me blabbering about the war? Well, in those days, girls didn't just kiss us goodnight—they built giant death machines to bring woe to our enemies!"

Agamemnon: Think of these things, men! Think of when you're old and so respected you can be as rude as you like. Now, hurry! Let's get started on that horse.

The Chorus comes on stage, some with clipboards, pencils and sunhats—in short, as engineers and construction workers. In the background a silhouette is made of an equine figure.
Enter Hector, Aeneas and Polydamas from the other side of the stage.

Hector: What in Hades are they doing?

Aeneas: It looks like they're building some kind of horse.

Polydamas: Geez, everyone knows you don't build—

Hector: It's wooden, you fool! Besides, it's a little small. More like a donkey.

Aeneas: We shouldn't have allowed that peace treaty. That horse can't be anything good.

Hector: Well, it's just a wooden toy. I don't see what possible use it could be.

Polydamas: Unless they used it as catapult fodder.

Aeneas: Or to give us slivers.

Polydamas: Eugh.

Hector: You call yourselves soldiers.

Polydamas: I call myself a conscript!

Hector sighs deeply and looks out into the distance.

Hector: Sometimes... sometimes I just want to throw down my sword.

Polydamas: Join the temple.

Aeneas: Do I sense some rancour, Polydamas?

Polydamas: I've just got a bad feeling about this. Hector, promise me you won't fight Achilles.

Hector: I'll do no such thing. It would be a great honour to fight that hero.

Polydamas: You'll die.

Aeneas: Hector is a great warrior. He's far from delicate. If anyone can handle Achilles, he can.

Polydamas: If anyone. I don't think Achilles can die at mortal hands.

Hector: Then so be it. I will not pick a quarrel with fate.

Polydamas: Who said it was your fate?

Hector: No one has to say it. I know.

Aeneas: How long have we been out here?

Polydamas: Must be hours.

Hector: Are they any further?

Aeneas: Not much, but it looks like they might be done by morning.

Hector: By morning!

Polydamas: That's not so unusual. I hear most Achaians can raise a horse in a day.

Hector: Then let's sleep on it. We can delve deeper into this matter at daybreak.

Exeunt.
The stage darkens, and when the lights come up again, Khryse, a priest of Apollo, is at work.

Chorus: Dawn, day's daughter bright
Drew back the curtain of Night
With her fingers of rosy light...

Khryse: Apollo, we welcome your golden rays---

Enter Cassandra.

Khryse: Good morning, Cassandra.

Cassandra: Hello, Khryse.

Khryse: Will you join in the morning hymns?

Cassandra: I'd like that.