Even a story as foundational as the Iliad assumes some knowledge of the reader (or should I say listener?). Figures like Achilles and Agamemnon were comparable to Napoleon or Churchill. They required little introduction. As such, they received none. We are thrust into the story “when the two first broke and clashed/ Agamemnon lord of men and brilliant Achilles.’ (1.8-1.9).

Ostensibly the quarrel is about a woman. Yet, pride is the real motivator, and the girl, a prize. When the prophet, Calchas, reveals that the price for the safety of the Achaeans is the return of Chryseis, the daughter of the priest of Apollo and Agamemnon’s most recent spoil of war, Agamemnon responds as anyone might in the face of ill fate: He shoots the messenger. “Seer of misery! Never a word that works to my advantage!” (1.124). Seeing as the messenger is a prophet Agamemnon is in a real sense cursing his fate. He is now primed to lash out at the next person to speak. Achilles foolishly fills this role.

Children know well that if mom and dad are angry, then it is wise to hide in your room to avoid becoming collateral damage. Likewise, it might be best to give a raging wild animal a wide berth. The same could be said of Agamemnon in this opening scene. Achilles, believing the two leaders to be on the same level, makes the misstep of trying to reason with him. Agamemnon responds with a threat to steal Achilles' women as restitution for his forfeited prize.

This threat raises a confusing point about hierarchy that cannot easily be resolved without delving into issues in translation of the Greek and academic debates about this particular ancient warrior culture (of which little is known). The shortest explanation is that Achilles and Agamemnon are of the same "rank", but they do not always act like it. The cause of this discrepancy is a matter scholars debate. My small comment on that debate is to reference a rule that applies regardless of power structure: people will do what they can get away with. Agamemnon asserts his right to take from Achilles. He can do this as long as no one is willing to come to Achilles' defense.

In that light, Agamemnon bolsters his position by proclaiming he can seize any of the other leaders' property.

“I will take a prize myself — your own or Ajax’

or Odysseus’ prize — I’ll commandeer her myself

and let that man I go to visit choke with rage.” (1.161-63).

This is not a benevolent ruler of men, but a tyrant. Unfortunately for all involved, that last line reads with harsh prophetic irony. Agamemnon will come to eat those words. As we will see later in the character of Zeus, a good leader reminds his constituents as little as possible of his position of dominance. If, and only if, it is necessary to make a show of power then it should always be done for the good of the whole, and never for selfish intent. Initially Agamemnon had shown the decency to (rather magnanimously) declare he was willing to give up his prize “if that is best for all. What I really want/ is to keep my people safe, not see them dying.” (1.135-136). However, Achilles’ comments make the lord reveal his true colors. Agamemnon's childish anger earns the expected response from Achilles: indignation.

Now the wronged hero must decide what to do with his rage. “Should he draw the long sharp sword at his hip/ thrust through the ranks and kill Agamemnon now?—/ Or check his rage and beat his fury down?” (1.234-36). It is only the intervention of Athena that stays his hand. I will resist the temptation of interpreting this as the intrusion of the voice of conscience and simply let the myth retain its mystical element for the time being. Regardless, he is forced to swallow his pride and stifle his anger for now.

Counterintuitively the long, steadfast, brooding rage of Achilles that ensues is the most violent outcome. A quick war leads to the least damage. While the lives of both Agamemnon and Achilles are saved for the time being, the rest of the Achaean army and ultimately, the Trojans as well, will pay the price for this resolution. Like Agamemnon’s comment on rage, Achilles' words will also prove prophetic:

“Someday, I swear, a yearning for Achilles will strike

Achaea’s sons and all your armies? But then, Atrides,

harrowed as you will be, nothing you do can save you—‘

not when your hordes of fighters drop and die,

cut down by the hand of man-killing Hector!” (1.281-85).

The price for Agamemnon’s theft of Briseis will be paid in Achaean blood. A fact which Achilles ensures will be remembered when he instructs the messengers sent to take her away to “bear witness” in case “the day should come when the armies need me/ to save their ranks from ignominious, stark defeat.” (1.403-4). This is intended as a mare on the character of Agamemnon. Achilles reminds the messengers that he has no feud with them. Yet, he wants to ensure that the blame for the destruction of the Achaean armies would land firmly on the head of Agamemnon. The rage of Achilles is single minded, and for the first two thirds of the poem it will remain fixed on Agamemnon.