The Gates Of Troy

by Iliffe, Glyn

  But after tonight his doubts had weakened, driven back by a renewed intoxication with Helen. They had spent the evening feasting on the beach and drinking wine until their heads swam, after which they had kissed with an intensity that had not yet left him. As he lay naked between layers of soft fleeces, looking up at the roof of the tent, his whole body was taut with the need of her. His mind was far from sleep and all he could think of was crossing the beach to where her tent was pitched, entering and taking her. On the northern borders, he had slept with his share of captured women before they were sent back to Troy as slaves. But he also knew that to take Helen before she was willing to give herself would damage the love she had spoken of as they had fled Sparta. And he wanted that love more than anything. He closed his eyes.

  As he lay there, listening to the surf advancing and retreating endlessly over the sand, the flap at the front of his tent opened briefly and shut again. Paris leapt to his feet and reached for the sword that hung from the back of a nearby chair. In an instant he had tugged the blade free of its scabbard and was pointing it at arm’s length towards the throat of the intruder.

  The metal gleamed threateningly in the moonlight that penetrated the thin walls of the tent. Helen looked at it for a moment, then wrapped her fingers around the blade and gently pushed it aside, feeling the tension of her soft skin against the sharpened edge. Her large eyes were filled with longing, and as she looked at Paris he knew she was ready for him. He felt his own passions responding, churning hotly within him like waters gathering against the walls of a dam. But he made the walls hold for a little longer, moving the point of his sword to rest against the thick wool of her cloak.

  ‘I acted foolishly,’ he told her, hating each word that he forced from his lips. ‘You love your children more than you can ever love me. Tomorrow I will return you to your home.’

  ‘All lovers are fools, Paris, and I am the greatest. But I have finished mourning for my children; my heart and my body are yours now. You are my only home from now on.’

  Again she pushed away the blade and this time Paris let it drop from his fingers. Then she unfastened the brooch at her left shoulder and, with a slight shrug, the cloak fell about her ankles. She stepped back from it and planted her feet apart in the mess of skins that covered the tent floor, enjoying the softness of the fur between her toes. Confident of her own nakedness, she leaned her head back and ran her fingers through her hair, revelling in the certainty that Paris’s eyes were feeding rapaciously on her heavy breasts, the smooth, pale skin of her stomach and the vertical slit of her navel. She could almost feel his gaze flowing down her long legs and back up again to the triangle of black hair where his lust was concentrated.

  Then she felt his arms fold about her, the firm muscles of his chest crushing her breasts as he ran his lips over her exposed neck. For a moment the strength of his passion stunned her, threatened to overwhelm her as he covered her ears, cheeks and lips with kisses. Then he lifted her easily in his arms and lay her down on the pile of furs, which were soft and yielding beneath the naked skin of her back and buttocks.

  ‘I’ll never give you up, Helen,’ he told her, staring into her irresistible eyes. ‘I love you!’

  ‘Do you love me enough to leave your soldier’s life behind and be a proper husband to me?’ Helen responded, closing her legs against the probing of his hand. ‘Will you reject Ares and follow Aphrodite?’

  ‘Ares has never let me down,’ Paris said, lowering his head to her breast and kissing her nipple. ‘Even if I agree to give up fighting, what can Aphrodite do for me?’

  ‘She can bless our marriage with eternal love. Isn’t that better than anything Ares can give you?’

  ‘Then, for your sake, I’ll fight no more and worship Aphrodite. I remember her clearly from my dream on Mount Ida; I’d never seen a more lovely woman in my life, either sleeping or waking. Not until I saw you that night in Sparta.’

  ‘You mustn’t say that,’ Helen half-protested, allowing Paris to slip his knee between her thighs. ‘It was Aphrodite who brought us together, and tomorrow you must build a shrine to her.’

  ‘I’ll make one at home in Troy,’ he said, kissing her ear lobe and neck. ‘A proper one, with dressed stone and . . .’

  ‘No. Make it here. To celebrate our becoming lovers.’

  Paris smiled. ‘As you wish. And when we’re old and our children have found husbands and wives of their own, we’ll sail back here and remember the time Aphrodite gave you to me.’

  In response she felt a rage of passion well up from the pit of her stomach. It was stronger than anything she had ever known before, a surging intensity that flooded into every part of her body and made her light-headed as she lay beneath him. Suddenly, for the first time in her life, she was giving up control; and as she surrendered the restraint of a lifetime she felt an overpowering sensation of freedom, of becoming the wild creature the gods had created her to be. She stared up at Paris, at the lurid scar that split his face, and was greedy for the press of his lips against her again. She threw her arms about his neck and kissed him fiercely, and as he entered her the bonds of her former life – Sparta, Menelaus, her children – dropped away like locks of shorn hair.

  The Ithacan fleet and the lone ship from Mycenae had reached the Cape of Malea by sunset of the third day of their voyage. The thirteen vessels were drawn up in a large bay along the eastern coast of the cape, where the crews threw their stone anchors overboard and made camp on the beach. Here they baked bread using stores of grain from the ship, or went up into the hills to hunt wild goats, rabbits and birds. That evening they feasted, drank wine and told stories until they fell asleep on the soft sand, whilst their commanders gathered in Agamemnon’s tent and talked long into the night.

  As Helen made love to Paris on Cyprus, her husband was pacing up and down and listening to the argument between Odysseus on one side and Agamemnon and Palamedes on the other. After a while he could no longer hold back his thoughts.

  ‘You’re suggesting, Odysseus, that we send a single ship to Troy to plead for the return of my wife?’

  ‘Not plead, Menelaus – negotiate. There’s a difference.’

  ‘I don’t care if there is a difference. We’re gathering the largest force of men and arms ever witnessed and you think we should negotiate for Helen like a pack of beggars? They kidnapped her along with my youngest son, don’t forget! I agree with my brother – the Trojans need to be taught a stern lesson, one that will show the rest of the world we Greeks aren’t to be toyed with. We should slaughter them to a man, reduce their city to rubble and bring Helen back to Sparta where she belongs.’

  ‘I agree with everything you and Agamemnon have done so far,’ Odysseus replied. ‘Calling in the oath; gathering the armies as quickly as possible; preparing for a quick strike. But an embassy to Troy could save hundreds of Greek lives – even thousands – as well as the possibility of a long and expensive war paid for from Mycenaean and Spartan coffers.’

  ‘We all appreciate your desire to return to your wife and son as quickly as possible, Odysseus,’ Agamemnon said. ‘I, also, have no desire to spend long months away from my lad, Orestes. He’ll eventually take my place on the throne and needs his father’s example to follow. Then there’s my daughter, Iphigenia; without my influence to check her feminine nature, I fear she will become rebellious and gain ideas above her station. But how can we consider our needs more urgent than those of my brother? Menelaus has had his beloved wife torn from him and taken to Troy! He wants nothing more than to return her to the loving safety of her own home, where her children weep constantly for the loss of their mother. That’s why the Greeks are gathering in Aulis as we speak, eager as hounds to be at Trojan throats. Of all those called only Achilles has not yet responded, though if he’s even half the warrior he is said to be then it won’t be long before he joins us. But these negotiations you suggest could take months and will dampen the ardour of the army. So why don’t you forget this noble but hopeless n
otion and turn your brilliant mind to thoughts of winning this war?’

  Agamemnon folded his arms across his chest and stared at Odysseus, challenging him to respond. But the Ithacan did not meet his gaze, turning his eyes instead on the king of Sparta.

  ‘Menelaus, my friend, Agamemnon is right – our sympathies lie with you first and foremost. You’re the one who has had his family broken apart. It’s you who have suffered the loss of a matchless wife and a devoted son, so you should be the one to decide on the matter.’ He looked at Agamemnon, who was the most powerful of them and the one most opposed to a peaceful resolution. The Mycenaean king nodded and Odysseus continued. ‘But first, listen carefully to what I have to say on the matter. Teach the Trojans a lesson, you say; wipe them out and destroy their city. Who can say they deserve any less? But ask yourself this – do you want revenge or do you want your family restored? If it’s revenge, then let’s all head for Aulis and rouse the Greeks to war. And don’t tarry there – sail to Troy at once and launch our attack without delay, for this won’t be a quick war. The Trojans will be defending their homes, and that alone will give them twice the stomach for a fight than our men will have. They’re well trained and battle-hardened, and with their allies they can at least match us in numbers; they will have the safety of their walls to return to each evening and a sure supply of food and reserves, whereas we will sleep in tents or on our beached galleys, exposed to night attacks and relying on ships for our provisions. This won’t be a speedy raid, Menelaus, and Troy is not some minor city with a weak army and no defences. Even with names like Diomedes, Ajax and Achilles – if he comes – in our ranks, this war won’t be concluded until next year at the earliest, and not without the loss of much Greek blood. And all the time we must worry about attacks on our own kingdoms while we are absent.’

  He paused and caught Menelaus’s eye, holding his gaze for a long moment as if the others in the tent were not there.

  ‘But if I were you,’ he continued, ‘I would forget revenge. If you want Helen back at all, then you need to act quickly – and with much more speed than the mechanics of war will allow.’

  ‘What is that supposed to mean?’ Menelaus asked, his eyes narrowing.

  ‘Be realistic, Menelaus. Helen may have been able to keep Paris at bay thus far, but for how much longer? He took her because of her beauty. He wants to make her his lover and wife, and the longer she is kept prisoner behind the walls of Troy the greater the risk he will succeed. He won’t be above forcing himself upon her either. Do you want Paris to violate Helen? Do you want her to bear his children?’

  Menelaus’s eyes widened and his face turned red. Suddenly the fury burst free and he smashed his fist down on the table, sending the cups and plates leaping into the air. Wine, meat and bread spilled over the fleece-covered floor.

  ‘How dare you!’ he shouted, grabbing a handful of the purple robe Penelope had given Odysseus and pulling the Ithacan king towards him. ‘How dare you speak of such an outrage!’

  Odysseus placed his hand on Menelaus’s wrist and calmly forced it back down to his side.

  ‘I dare to speak of these things, Menelaus, because I’m your friend. Palamedes there has spent the evening goading you with talk of revenge, provoking your anger by reminding you of the injustice Paris has committed against you. That’s because he thinks that’s what you want to hear, and he doesn’t have the courage to tell you the painful truth. But what I’m telling you is the truth, whether you like it or not. And unless you’re prepared to put aside your desire for revenge, then Paris and Helen will become lovers. That much I can guarantee. Your only hope – and my only hope of returning to Penelope and Telemachus – is to allow me to go to Priam and speak with him. I can make him see reason and let Helen go, especially if he knows about the army that’s being gathered against him.’

  ‘An embassy to Troy is a waste of time,’ Agamemnon said, icily. ‘We’ll lose the element of surprise if you tell Priam about our preparations. We can’t afford to risk an opposed landing on the beaches of Ilium. And I know my sister-in-law better than you do, Odysseus. Helen won’t betray Menelaus. She’ll be expecting him to come with an army, and that thought alone will help her to resist Paris.’

  ‘No it won’t,’ Menelaus said, shaking his head slowly. ‘Odysseus is right. But there’s something else he hasn’t said, whether he thought it or not. I know Helen doesn’t love me. She respects me and enjoys my friendship, but I don’t consume her thoughts or fill her with desire. That I can live with, and have done for ten years. What I will not be able to bear is if she falls in love with another. I can’t risk laying siege to Troy and knowing that, as each day passes, Helen is closer to giving her heart to Paris. It won’t do! Agamemnon, you agreed the choice should be mine, and so I say Odysseus should get his chance. What’s more, he should be given the power to make any bargain he thinks is necessary, as long as it results in the rapid return of my wife.’

  ‘Think about what you’re saying, brother . . .’

  ‘I have, Agamemnon! I want Odysseus to go to Troy and bring Helen back before . . . before it’s too late.’

  Agamemnon sighed and shook his head. ‘Very well,’ he said reluctantly. ‘There’s none better than Odysseus to win a man over, and even a proud old fool like Priam might be persuaded.’

  ‘That’s settled then,’ Odysseus said, standing as if to leave. ‘Eperitus and I will leave at dawn tomorrow, while the rest of the fleet will be placed under my cousin Eurylochus. They’ll escort you to Aulis, Agamemnon, and train in the full expectation of war.’

  Palamedes stood. ‘One more thing, my lords. I’d like to be part of this embassy – I’ve always wanted to see the famous walls and towers of Troy – and I think Menelaus should come too.’

  Odysseus opened his mouth to protest but Agamemnon held up his hand to silence him. ‘I agree that you should go, Palamedes – after all, two great minds are better than one. But not Menelaus. The Trojans pretend to honour the customs of guest-friendship, but we’ve already seen Paris break one sacred oath – I can’t risk my brother falling into their treacherous hands and being held hostage or killed.’

  ‘Paris is not a king, my lord,’ Palamedes said. ‘But Priam is and he won’t dare lose face by mistreating his guests. For one thing, no other nation in the civilized world would ever trust his word again, so you can rest assured Menelaus will be safe. What’s more, if Priam hears from Menelaus himself the grief that Paris has caused him, that will be far more effective than any argument Odysseus or I could make.’

  He gave Agamemnon a look, which the king appeared to understand.

  ‘Very well,’ Agamemnon announced, signalling for the guards to open the entrance flaps of his tent. ‘Menelaus and Palamedes will board with you in the morning, Odysseus, and may the gods speed you on your voyage to Troy. The rest of us will sail to the gathering at Aulis.’

  They rose at first light the next day and set off before sunup, rowing the ships out of the bay to find a breeze, then hoisting the cross-spars and letting the sails fall. Eperitus stood in the prow of his galley as it rounded the cape, watching the cotton and flax sail flap and sputter several times before catching the wind and bellying out. The dolphin motif swelled in the orange light of the rising sun and for a moment seemed like a living creature, hauling the ship forward across the troughs and swells of the restless sea. In a flurry of activity, the sailors adjusted the leather ropes to distribute the wind pressure before returning to the crowded benches, their weight acting as ballast to make the ship ride evenly across the waves.

  Although he had spent the past ten years living on an island, Eperitus was no sailor and was happy to leave the running of the ship to the crew. They were drawn from the islands of Ithaca, Samos, Zacynthos and Dulichium, so had spent their entire lives travelling on boats of some form or other, whereas he had not even seen the sea before he met Odysseus. Despite that, he loved the oceans with a passion that could rival any of the veteran seamen. He had never forg
otten the first time he had smelled the unfamiliar reek of brine, heard the cawing of the great white gulls and then, supremely, stepped aboard a ship and taken his first, swift voyage over the ceaseless waters. It had been the strangest and most exhilarating experience of his life to feel himself afloat on the powerful and shifting body of the ocean, its dark mass impenetrable and full of primeval mystery. That first experience had sparked a love that had never left him, and as he looked down at the waves breaking over the red-cheeked bows of the ship – each one painted with a large eye that stared fixedly at the horizon – he felt his joy of life renewed by the prospects of a long voyage to Troy.

  He turned and leaned against the prow, enjoying the feel of the waves slapping against the thin planking beneath his feet and the wind whipping through his hair. He looked across the rows of benches at the faces of the warriors who would be under his command. Each craft had been constructed to carry sixty men in basic comfort, but with all their war gear and provisions for a long voyage the ship was horribly overcrowded. The two hundred men of the palace guard who had been chosen to form the backbone of the expedition had been divided to provide fifteen trained fighters per ship, with an additional twenty to act as Odysseus’s bodyguard. These included the most experienced and longest-serving soldiers, whom Eperitus was happy to see dotted in twos or threes on the benches. Some caught his eye and gave a nod or a smile of recognition, while others were busy in conversation, playing dice or just looking out at the waves, where groups of dolphins raced the great wooden vessels and occasionally leapt out to eye the men that sat in them.

  At the helm were Odysseus, Eurybates, Menelaus and Palamedes. Eurybates, one of the best sailors in the guard, stood with his hands on the twin steering oars, his eyes narrowed as they watched the sea ahead and read the wave caps to find the best current. Odysseus was beside him, looking displeased at the presence of Palamedes, yet with an indomitable glint in his eye. After leaving Agamemnon’s tent, the king had confided to Eperitus that he suspected Palamedes would try to thwart his attempts to bring Helen back to Greece, but that he was determined not to allow him. Eperitus agreed to keep a careful eye on the Nauplian prince.