His face falls. “You would hang a man for showing restraint?”

What kind of a king–?

"No."

…

“Are you ridiculing me again.”

"Yes."

He decides then and there that he is not going to say another word to Aetos until they arrive at the gates of Ilium. And that he is going to feed the Cretan’s food to the horses the first chance that he gets.

The Trojans now have come out all in assembly: Hector, tall and broad and gleaming; Penthesilea, beautiful and deadly; fair Aeneas, in whose glance is an ancient power; and Paris is not present. Many captains and aides are gathered, and shining in panoply. 

The Trojans do not speak. 

The Greeks cut a fine figure themselves.

Gods walk with them. Athena whispers into his ear with every step, and even Zeus is said to smile upon Lord Aetos. Apollo’s child, fair-haired divinity, rides close behind them. The envoy of soldiers at their heels raise the flags of the Achaeans high, glittering in bronze. Hero looks upon hero.

No Priam, then – and no Paris. No doubt the king is too old and his son is too cowardly.

He meets the eyes of Prince Hector, where he stands high above on the city walls, and bows his head.

“Great lords of Ilium! We come now in peace.”

The assembled Trojan forces mutter among themselves and shift uneasily - one or two are brave enough, from the back, to call out and jeer. They do not seem happy, or even much willing to entertain diplomacy, and Hector does not silence them. 

“We come bearing gifts,” he gestures for some of his men to present them forth. Lavish gold statues of the gods, cows ready for the slaughter, intoxicating perfumes – all an offering for the Trojans.

“And a promise.”

There is a priest of Apollo with them.

The unease fills his chest.

Those are riches indeed. Perhaps the Greeks are more desperate than they thought - weaker than they thought. 

The men were nervous. It is said that the hide of Achilles cannot be pierced, that the man is an army by himself like the kings of old, that he can withstand the wrath of gods. It is said that among the Greeks is Heracles himself. 

They need reassurance. 

"You have paid us richly, Achaeans; now what is your plea, or your 'promise'"?

“We seek only to end this war before it begins. Before the bloodshed tears apart our two great lands.”

“We seek the return of Helen to her rightful husband. And our promise, our oath – is that we shall withdraw all our kings, take our ships home to our islands, and resume the long-standing alliance between our peoples.”

They are all camped just within line of sight. One-thousand ships, ten-thousand men. If Hector cannot see the threat that they pose, then he is more a fool than Ambrosios thought.

The chorus of cries of anger is almost deafening. 

What's the Ithacan's plan here - does he really think the war can be over like that, before it's begun? Can it? 

The men are shifting - the Trojan council is almost united, for once, and it is against the Greeks. 

He holds up his staff in admonition, and the noise quietens a little. 

"You speak bold words, son of Ithaca, and yet your promise is revealed for the device it is. You would swear only to withdraw in victory; what kind of assurance is that? Are we to believe that, if not for your oath, you would linger here and grow old assailing the impregnable walls, even if we gave you back Helen into bondage? Or shall you indeed go, only to return as soon as your heart is moved to demand something else of ours? No, Ambrosios, your words will not move us. What other surety could you offer us?"

Stubborn Hector.

“We seek no victory; only for matters to return as they were. My lord, she is one woman for the lives of thousands of men. Rest assured she would be treated well, as she was when she reigned queen over the great Spartans. All the lords of the Achaeans are here, now, prepared by sacred oath to give their lives and take tenfold for her safe return – but my word between us, we would far rather all go home to our families, and there we would stay.”

He spreads his arms, his gaze like arrows even where his voice is kind. “Tell me, wise prince: do you truly think it worth the tragedy?”

"In no wise do I think it so. One woman indeed she is, for the lives of a thousand men, and the long dark years of war; wherefore depart, and return to your homes, and forget Helen, for that she is one woman. Do you truly think to come here and demand her and return, for no price?"

What is so special, he thinks silently to himself, about Helen?

Is this what love will do?

“She is rightfully Menelaus’, Hector. Were you not there that night the vows were made, alongside all the other kings? The world knows it. And still, we wish to resume our friendship; tell us what it is you demand then, O prince, that you find worthy of the girl.”

"Nay, I was not; I was far then from your cares and quarrels over the woman. The world is not so small as you imagine, Ithacan King, nor have we ought but your word alone. To lose his wife will humiliate the prince Paris; he will not willingly part with her unless his pride be soothed."

There's a moment of tension-

"So come. Your pact is fulfilled; only swear here by the immortal gods to go and not return, you and all the kings of the Achaeans; and bring treasure to match the price of this embassy, gold and grain, to make us whole for all the cost of our armies, and the price of the prince's pride; and you shall have Helen, should the gods smile upon you."

"Indeed; until surely the next Trojan chief who covets our wives sees what it will win him."

Aetos has a brain behind all that skull, he sees.

He has a feeling that King Melenaus will not take well to the thought of paying his bride’s ransom. Is that not what the Trojans demand?

“The cost of armies is equal, Prince Hector, for we have taken great pains to mobilise our men in their thousands. Take these gifts for what they are, our gesture of goodwill to your people; and once we sight Queen Helen amongst our number we shall depart. As for Prince Paris, we shall find him a suitable bride.” 

The silence is deafening. All can hear the thumping of their hearts.

“I am prepared to swear this on behalf of all Greeks.”

...He can't help but smirk a little at that; it is perfect justice for Paris, of a sort. 

He opens his mouth-

No. 

This is the council of Trojans, and many lords are gathered here; great they are and accustomed to war. 

But lords do not travel alone, and somewhere, somewhere...

Among the assembled Trojans, not the council of lords but their many attendants - 

Men do break in war. 

Some Trojan youth sees a flash of gold somewhere among the Achaeans, taken in some skirmish- 

The spear leaves his hand on untrained reflex. 

He rolls from his horse and grasps his shield, flinging himself out, and the spearpoint catches the rim of the shield and forces it back into his forehead - he staggers, bleeding...

“Lord Aetos!”