‘Don’t say it too loudly,’ he said, drifting away to minister to the sick with his own hands, and thereby earn an undeserved reputation for bravery.

When Agamemnon went to Kalchas and asked for a public augury, the army sighed with relief. There was no doubt in any mind that the priest would insist upon the return of Chryse; hearts began to lighten at the prospect of an end to the epidemic.

A public augury involved the personal attendance of every officer in the army senior to those who commanded mere squadrons. They gathered in the space set aside for assemblies, perhaps a thousand of them ranged behind the Kings, all facing the altar; most of them, of course, were related to the Kings, some closely.

Only Agamemnon was seated. As I passed in front of his throne I made no attempt to bend the knee to him, and scowled fiercely. It was noticed; every face grew rigid with concern. Patrokles even went so far as to put a warning hand on my arm, but I threw it off angrily. Then I found my place, listened to Kalchas say that the plague wouldn’t lessen until Apollo was given his due, the girl Chryse. Agamemnon must send her to Troy.

Neither he nor I needed to do much acting; we twisted in the web woven by Odysseus and hated it. I laughed and jeered at Agamemnon, he retaliated by ordering me to give him Brise. Shoving the frantic Patrokles aside, I left the assembly ground to make my way to the Myrmidon stockade. After one look at my face Brise said nothing, though her eyes filled with tears. Back we went in silence. Then in front of all that great company I put her hand into Agamemnon’s. Nestor volunteered to care for both girls and ship them to their fates. As Brise walked away with him she turned her head to look at me one last time.

When I told Agamemnon that I was withdrawing myself and my troops from his army I sounded as if I meant every word. Neither Patrokles nor Phoinix doubted my sincerity for an instant. I stalked off to the Myrmidon stockade, leaving them to follow.

The house was full of echoes, empty without Brise. Avoiding Patrokles, I slunk about it all day, alone in my shame and sorrow. At the supper hour Patrokles came to dine with me, but there was no conversation; he refused to speak to me.

In the end I spoke to him. ‘Cousin, can’t you understand?’

Eyes filmed with tears, he looked at me. ‘No, Achilles, I can’t. Ever since that girl came into your life, you’ve become someone I don’t know. Today you answered for all of us in something you had no right to decide on our behalf. You withdrew our services without consulting us. Only our High King could do that, and Peleus never would. You’re not a worthy son.’

Oh, that hurt. ‘If you won’t understand, will you forgive?’

‘Only if you go to Agamemnon and retract what you said.’

I drew back. ‘Retract? Are you insane? Agamemnon offered me a mortal insult!’

‘An insult you brought on yourself, Achilles! If you hadn’t laughed and derided him, he would never have singled you out! Be fair! You act as if your heart is broken at being parted from Brise – did it never occur to you that perhaps Agamemnon’s heart is broken at being parted from Chryse?’

‘That pig-headed tyrant has no heart!’

‘Achilles, why are you so obdurate?’

‘I’m not obdurate.’

He struck his hands together. ‘Oh, I don’t believe this! It’s her influence! How she must have worked on you!’

‘I can see why you’d think that, but it isn’t so. Forgive me, Patrokles, please.’

‘I can’t forgive you,’ he said, and turned his back on me. The idol Achilles had toppled from his pedestal at last. And how right Odysseus was. Men believed in trouble made by women.

Odysseus slipped in the next evening very quietly. I was so glad to see a friendly face that I greeted him almost feverishly.

‘Ostracised by your own?’ he asked.

‘Yes. Even Patrokles has wiped his hands of me.’

‘Well, that’s maybe to be expected, eh? But take heart. In a few more days you’ll be back in the field, vindicated.’

‘Vindicated. An interesting word. Yet something has occurred to me, Odysseus, that ought to have occurred to me at the council. It didn’t. If it had, I could never have agreed to your scheme.’

‘Oh?’ He looked as if he knew what I was about to say.

‘What will become of us all? We naturally presumed that after the scheme succeeded – if it does! – we’d be free to tell of it. Now I see that we can never tell. Neither the officers nor the soldiers would condone such an expediency. A coldblooded means to an end. All they’d see are the faces of the men who must die to fulfil it. I’m right, aren’t I?’

He rubbed his nose ruefully. ‘I wondered which one of you would see it first. My money was on you – I win again.’

‘Can you ever lose? But have I made the correct conclusion, or have you worked out a solution that will make everyone happy?’

‘There’s no such solution, Achilles. You’ve finally seen what should have been screaming at you in the council chamber. A little less passion inside that rib cage of yours and you would have seen it then. There can never be a revelation of the plot. It must remain our secret to the tomb, each of us bound by the oath Agamemnon was moved to suggest – thus saving me the trouble, not to mention some questions I would have found it difficult to answer,’ he said soberly.

I closed my eyes. ‘So to the tomb and beyond Achilles will seem a selfish braggart, so puffed up with his own importance that he allowed countless men to perish to feed his wounded pride.’

‘Yes.’

‘I ought to cut your throat, you twisted conniver! You’ve saddled me with a load of shame and dishonour that will forever cast a shadow on my name. When in future ages men speak about Achilles, they’ll say that he sacrificed everything for the sake of his wounded pride. I hope you go to Tartaros!’

‘No doubt I will,’ he said, unworried, unimpressed. ‘You’re not the first man to curse me, nor will you be the last. But we will all feel the repercussions of that council, Achilles. Men may never know what really went on, but the hand of Odysseus is bound to be suspected somewhere. And what of Agamemnon? If you seem to be the victim of overweening pride, what will he seem? You at least were wronged. He did the wronging.’

Suddenly I realised how foolish this conversation was, how little even men as brilliant as Odysseus had to do with the plans of the Gods. I said, ‘Well, it’s a form of justice. We deserve to lose our stainless reputations. In order to get this ill-starred venture started, we consented to be parties to human sacrifice. It’s for that we pay. And because of it I’m willing to continue this idiocy. My greatest ambition is forever denied me.’

‘What ambition is that?’

‘To live in the hearts of men as the perfect warrior. It’s Hektor who’ll do that.’

‘You can’t say for sure, Achilles, though your great-grandsons might. Posterity judges differently.’

I looked at him curiously. ‘Don’t you hunger to be remembered by many generations of men, Odysseus?’

He laughed heartily. ‘No! I don’t care what posterity says about Odysseus! Or even whether posterity knows his name. When I’m dead I’ll be rolling the same boulder up some hill in Tartaros, or leaping for the water flagon forever out of my reach.’

‘With me alongside you. For all our talk, it’s too late.’

‘And there you have the right of it at last, Achilles.’

We lapsed into silence, the curtain drawn against intruders who wouldn’t come to commiserate with their hubristic leader. The wine jar stood upon the table. I poured our cups full to the brim and we drank reflectively, neither of us willing to part with his private thoughts. No doubt Odysseus experienced the prettier reverie, since he didn’t expect rewards from posterity. Though he seemed to believe in nothing beyond eternal punishment, I thought it marvellous that he could contemplate his fate with his confidence unimpaired.