Helen of Troy

Here was Troy 3000 years ago,

a city of destiny...

...so situated that it dominated

the Hellespont...

... today known as the Dardanelles.

This was the only sea route

to and from the east.

As a result, Troy grew prosperous...

...a tempting prize of war

for the Greek nations.

The Trojans had long memories of the

time when the Greeks, led by Sparta...

...had pillaged and burned

the city of their fathers.

They had prepared strong defenses

against the possibility of future assault.

That is why new Troy,

their rebuilt city...

... was guarded by mighty walls,

an impregnable shelter...

...for a happy people in love with beauty.

In the palace square

and the busy streets...

... the industrious citizens were enjoying

the works of peace...

...as though this carefree era

would last forever.

There was Lord Aeneas,

nephew of King Priam...

...on his way to the palace...

... where the future of Troy

was being weighed by the royal council.

And so we've locked out

the understanding of nations. . .

. . .and we've locked in the poison.

Trojans jumping at every rumor. . .

. . .pointing fingers at each other.

l tell you there's only one solution.

Have your way. Go to Sparta.

Go wherever you will. . .

. . .but don't try to drag

the destiny of Troy with you.

What destiny, to live like a crab

in a shell?

We live well.

We tax traders at the sea gate.

That's our blood.

Stupidity! We'll choke on our own fat

unless we sail our ships of trade.

But how can we,

when every harbor is an enemy's?

-Oh, l'm sick of your crazy dreams.

-Careful, brother.

Paris has always been able

to crack your neck.

And you can thrash us both.

-Tell him he's a fool, Hector!

-My sons. . .

. . .the fool is the man who makes

a quarrel of a debate.

Paris, l bless your plan to sail to Sparta.

l know l can trust you not to beg

for peace.

l'll try to convince the Greeks

our power makes a treaty advisable.

l'd convince them.

l'd take 1 00 ships of war

and burn the soil of Sparta black!

l'm sure you would, Polydorus,

and create endless war.

And you, Hector,

do you aspire to anything. . .

-. . .but to excel at swordplay and boxing?

-Yes, sire.

The javelin and the discus.

Hector's a good son, Priam.

And a good husband, my lord.

ls that not sufficient glory?

By your leave, Paris' ship

is ready to sail.

Do the gods approve the day

and the hour?

The omens are good and also

the prophecies, with but one exception.

One troubled priestess of the temple.

-My daughter.

-Don't be angry, Priam.

-Cassandra is ill.

-Sick in the mind.

Arise, Paris. . .

. . .and go.

The virgin Cassandra does make one

point that causes me much concern.

Prince Paris, it appears, gives all

his worship to one goddess alone.

-Aphrodite.

-l'm not sure l worship anything.

No.

Admiration is the better word.

Admiration for the beauty

of a marble image.

lt was not the goddess of beauty who

taught us to arm against our enemies. . .

. . .but Athena, the goddess of wisdom. . .

. . .and the patroness

of the horses of war.

Athena does not rejoice in this. . . .

This solitary adoration of yours.

Neither is she delighted

that you undertake a mission of peace.

And l suppose that evil horse of hers

will spring out and trample me.

Very well. Let it come, my lord. . .

. . .if that's the price

of living in a world of fables.

Do not say that, Paris.

Do not seek peace elsewhere,

dear brother. . .

. . .until first you have pacified Athena.

My little Cassandra, there can be

no postponement.

Give me your blessing

for a happy voyage.

l cannot bless what l see

in your future.

Cassandra!

-Cassandra, stop this.

-But, Father, it's true.

What l see and feel is true.

Go, Paris.

Come, Cassandra.

-Come and rest a while.

-How can l, Mother?

Oh, l wish it hadn't been given me. . .

. . .this agony l live with.

Paris!

Paris, don't go. Please don't go.

-l must sail at once.

-lf you have any love for Troy. . .

. . .don't bring this dreadful thing

upon us.

-And l thought you loved me best of all.

-l do, but. . .

. . .the noise, the storm grows so great.

The screaming of horses,

the cries of dying men.

-Take care of her.

-My dear, my dear.

Perhaps it could not be otherwise.

What must be, no one can change.

Where are we today? Elysium?

Far from it. We're nearing Sparta. . .

. . .a harsh military land, where a man

will cut off his arm to prove he's brave.

-l wonder what the women look like.

-My profound Cousin Aeneas.

To think deeply, Paris,

one must think of women.

They bring all life into the world

and much death.

-They sway the destinies of men.

-Not my destiny.

What's the matter?

Oh, just a quickening of the breeze.

But l don't like the hot breath of it.

Oh, it's nothing.

Only one drifting cloud up there.

Up the mast with you!

-l command you! Climb the mast!

-Drop the sail!

My prince, the ropes are fouled,

and these men refuse to climb the mast.

-l'll flay them!

-No!

There's only one way

to cure these fantasies.

No, my prince, not you. No!

Paris!

Paris!

Paris!

Paris! Paris!

Paris!

Megas!

Aphrodite.

What?

Some ship had bad luck.

She does exist.

-Who?

-The fairest goddess.

This creature is crazy.

But with a nice sort of craziness.

What was your ship?

The Dolphin...

-. . .of Troy.

-A Trojan.

Cut him loose, Andros.

Maybe we can warm some life into him

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