Nine years.

Nine years the war had lasted. The Greeks laid siege to Troy, camped on the beach, storming the walls day after day. But Troy was too strong. Its walls had been built by the gods Poseidon and Apollo, and no army could bring them down.

On the Greek side, Achilles was the supreme hero. Unbeatable in combat, faster and stronger than any man. His mother, Thetis, had dipped him in the river Styx when he was a baby, making his body nearly invulnerable. Because she held him by the heel, only that one small spot was left unprotected — the famous Achilles' heel. In nine years, Achilles had defeated hundreds of Trojans, famous heroes among them. Without him, the Greeks would have lost the war long ago.

On the Trojan side, Hector was the greatest defender. Eldest son of King Priam, noble and brave, beloved by his people. Hector did not fight for glory: he fought to protect his wife Andromache, his little son Astyanax, and the whole city.

Achilles and Hector had never yet met in battle. But everyone knew that when it happened, the world would stop to watch.

Then, in the ninth year, something terrible happened in the Greek camp.

Agamemnon, the leader of the Greeks, had taken as a war prize a young woman named Chryseis. But Chryseis was the daughter of Chryses, a priest of Apollo. The old priest came to the camp bearing ransom.

"Please, give me back my daughter. I will give you gold, treasures, whatever you ask."

Agamemnon refused with arrogance and sent the old man away. Chryses then prayed to Apollo, and the god, furious at the insult to his priest, sent a plague upon the Greek army. Soldiers began to sicken and die, and the disease spread further every day.

It was Achilles who called an assembly.

"Agamemnon, we must return Chryseis to her father. If we do not, the plague will destroy us."

Agamemnon, furious but out of options, agreed. Yet he set one cruel condition.

"Very well, I will return Chryseis. But in exchange, I will take your war prize, Achilles. The young Briseis."

"You would not dare," said Achilles, hardly believing it.

"I dare. I am the leader. Obey."

Agamemnon's soldiers entered Achilles' tent and led Briseis away. Achilles felt his honor insulted before the whole army. He even drew his sword, ready to finish Agamemnon then and there.

But the goddess Athena came down from Olympus, invisible to all, and caught him by the hair.

"Achilles, do not kill him. Your hour of glory will still come, but not like this."

Achilles, trembling with rage, sheathed his sword. Instead of striking, he swore a terrible oath.

"Agamemnon, you have insulted me. Then I will fight no more. I and my warriors, the Myrmidons, withdraw from this war. You will find out how much I matter when the Trojans drive this army into the sea."

And Achilles withdrew to his tent, refusing to fight.

Without Achilles, the Greeks began to lose.

Hector led the Trojans in a fierce counterattack and pushed the Greeks back to their ships. Day after day the Trojans gained ground, until they reached the Greek ships themselves and began to set them on fire. The army stood at the edge of collapse.

Agamemnon, desperate, sent ambassadors to Achilles with promises: he would return Briseis, give treasures, cities, anything he wished. But Achilles, still wounded in his pride, refused it all. His honor had been stained, and Agamemnon had to pay.

Patroclus, Achilles' best friend since childhood, watched it all with a breaking heart. He saw Greeks dying, saw friends wounded, and he could bear it no longer.

"Achilles," he begged, "if you will not fight, let me wear your armor. The Trojans will think I am you and fall back in fear."

Achilles hesitated, but Patroclus pressed on, reminding him of the friends falling with every hour. At last, Achilles gave in.

"Very well. Wear my armor. But only drive the Trojans away from the ships. Do not chase them to Troy, do not fight Hector, and come back at once."

Patroclus put on Achilles' shining armor, forged by Hephaestus, the smith god, and the Myrmidons followed him. When he entered the battle, the Trojans cried out in terror, certain Achilles had returned, and began to flee.

Patroclus fought brilliantly. He drove the Trojans far from the ships and defeated dozens of enemies. But then, carried away by victory, he forgot Achilles' order and chased the Trojans to the very gates of Troy.

Apollo, who protected the Trojans, saw it from above and came down unseen. With one blow of divine strength, he struck Patroclus's back.

Patroclus's helmet flew off. The armor came loose, the spear broke. Patroclus stood dazed, defenseless in the middle of the field.

And there was Hector.

Hector did not know it was Patroclus. He thought he faced Achilles himself, weakened by Apollo. With his spear, he attacked and pierced the warrior's chest.

Patroclus fell. With his last breaths, he whispered slowly:

"Hector... your triumph will be short... Achilles will avenge my death..."

And then he was silent. Patroclus was dead.

Hector stripped Achilles' armor from the body and put it on himself. The Greeks fought desperately to recover Patroclus's body, and at last they succeeded.

The news reached Achilles' tent: Patroclus was dead, and Hector had taken his armor.

Achilles' cry echoed across the whole battlefield. It was a cry of grief so deep that even the gods on Olympus heard it and fell silent. Achilles dropped to his knees, weeping. He tore his own clothes and covered his face with ashes. His best friend, his brother in all but blood, was dead — and dead because of his own stubbornness.

Thetis, Achilles' mother, rose from the sea when she heard her son's weeping.

"Mother," said Achilles in a hollow voice, "Patroclus is dead. And it is my fault. My foolish pride killed him. I will kill Hector, even if it costs me my life."

Thetis wept. She knew the prophecies. If Achilles had stayed home, he would have lived a long, forgotten life; at Troy, he would win eternal glory, but die young. And there was more: soon after Hector's death, Achilles' own turn would come.

"If you kill Hector," she said, "you will die soon after."

"So be it," Achilles answered. "Life without Patroclus is worth nothing. I would rather die with glory than live in hiding."

Thetis went up to Olympus and begged Hephaestus for new armor for her son, the most magnificent ever made. Taking pity on her, the smith god worked through the night and forged divine armor: a shield decorated with scenes of the whole universe, a gleaming helmet, a breastplate no weapon could pierce.

At dawn, Thetis brought the armor to Achilles. He put it on, took up his spear, and went to speak with Agamemnon.

"Agamemnon, our quarrel is over. The stubbornness of us both killed my friend. Now I return to the fight. Not for you — for Patroclus."

Achilles entered the battle, and it was like unleashing a hurricane.

He fought with a fury no one had ever seen. Trojans fell by the dozen before him, and the river Scamander grew so choked with the fallen that the river god himself protested and rose against Achilles — who fought even the river.

Terrified, the Trojans fled inside the walls. But one man remained outside, alone, waiting.

It was Hector.

From the top of the walls, King Priam and Queen Hecuba begged their son to come inside, not to face Achilles. Andromache wept, pleading with him not to fight alone. But Hector shook his head slowly.

"I cannot. It was my spear that killed Patroclus. I must answer for it. A leader does not hide behind his own walls."

Yet when Achilles drew near, terror rose through Hector's body. For a moment he ran, and Achilles chased him. Three times they circled the walls of Troy, as in a nightmare.

Then Athena, who hated Troy, appeared to Hector disguised as one of his brothers and promised to fight at his side. Heartened, Hector stopped and turned to face Achilles.

"Achilles, let us fight," Hector called. "But let us make a pact: whoever wins returns the other's body, for an honorable funeral."

"There will be no pacts," Achilles answered. "Lions do not make bargains with men. Today you die."

Hector hurled his spear. It struck the divine shield and glanced away. He turned to ask his "brother" for another spear... and there was no one there. Athena had vanished.

"The gods have deceived me," Hector whispered. "Then I will die fighting."

Hector attacked with his sword and fought bravely. But Achilles was stronger, faster, and clad in divine armor. He saw an opening at his opponent's neck, and his spear found its mark.

Hector fell. With the last thread of his voice, he asked:

"Achilles... give my body back to my family... for a proper funeral..."

"No," Achilles answered, his heart still full of hatred. "You killed Patroclus."

And Hector died before the walls he had spent his life defending.

What Achilles did next shocked even the gods. He tied Hector's body to his chariot and dragged it around the walls of Troy, before the eyes of Priam, Hecuba, and Andromache, who cried out in grief from the ramparts.

For days, Achilles did it again and again, dishonoring the dead. But the gods protected Hector's body, and it remained untouched. At last, Zeus decided that Achilles had gone too far and ordered it to end.

That night, old King Priam did something of immense courage. Alone, guided by Hermes, he crossed the enemy camp and entered Achilles' tent. He knelt and kissed the warrior's hands — the same hands that had killed his son.

"Achilles," said Priam, weeping, "remember your own father. He is old, as I am. Imagine him kneeling here, begging for the body of his son. Have pity. Give me back Hector, and let me bury him with honor."

Achilles looked at the old king. And for the first time since Patroclus's death, he felt something besides rage.

He saw before him the grief of a father. He remembered his own father, Peleus, whom he would never see again. He remembered that before he was a warrior, he was a man. Achilles wept, and Priam wept with him. The two enemies wept together for the endless sorrow of war.

"Old man," said Achilles, his voice gentle now, "take your son. And there will be a truce of twelve days, so that Troy may hold the funerals."

Priam carried Hector's body home, and Troy buried him with full honors. The whole city mourned its greatest defender. The war would go on — but now everyone felt that the end was near.