by Iliffe, Glyn
‘Yes, my lord,’ Astynome said, dropping the hem from her hands as she emerged from the shadows.
The servant’s face took Helenus by surprise and made him momentarily forget his anger. She had fierce, dark eyes that hid deep passions Helenus would never understand, and her black hair and suntanned face gave her a wild beauty that was both alluring and yet far beyond his reach, challenging the young prince’s sense of pride and arrogance.
‘Bring us wine and something to soak it up with,’ Apheidas commanded, falling into one of the dozen chairs that surrounded the hearth.
He waved Helenus into its neighbour, unaware of the dark, hateful look Astynome shot him before disappearing back through the same door she had come in by.
‘Now, Helenus, do you want to marry your sister-in-law or don’t you?’
‘You know I do.’
‘Then what are you prepared to do to win her?’
He stared hard at the prince, who, despite his sense of royal superiority, struggled to hold the commander’s challenging gaze. He was rescued by the reappearance of Astynome, who carried a small table by a leg in one hand and a basket of bread in the other. Helenus’s eyes broke away from Apheidas’s and turned to the servant girl, admiring the curves visible beneath her dress as she set the table down between the two men and laid the basket on it. His licentious stare followed her out of the hall and then back in again as she returned with plates of cold meat and a bowl of fruit. Finally, she fetched a skin of wine and two kraters, which she filled and passed to the men while they looked on in silence. A moment later she had retreated into the shadows, there to wait on their needs.
Apheidas stretched across and poured a slop of wine into the flames, whispering a perfunctory prayer of thanks to the gods before drinking greedily. Helenus followed with his own libation and the two men started on the food, rolling slices of meat into the flat bread and cramming them into their mouths. After their immediate hunger and thirst were satisfied, Apheidas leaned back, belched and looked at Helenus.
‘So, my prince, I’ll ask you again: what are you prepared to do to win Helen?’
‘I fail to see what I can do. By now the ceremony will be over and Deiphobus and Helen will be man and wife. Unless you’re suggesting I kidnap her, as Paris did –’
‘Of course not,’ Apheidas said with an impatient frown. ‘But there is a more effective way to end a marriage. Indeed, it has ended many thousands of marriages in the past decade.’
Helenus shifted uncomfortably in his chair, watching Apheidas as he lifted his empty krater for Astynome to refill.
‘You mean death,’ the prince said. ‘With Hector and Paris killed and so many other losses already this year, my father isn’t likely to send the army out to face the Greeks in open battle again. The chances of Deiphobus being slain by an enemy spear or arrow –’
‘Don’t be so naïve,’ Apheidas snapped. ‘I’m saying you need to kill Deiphobus. And don’t look so shocked. You’re an ambitious lad, Helenus; with your brother out of the way not only will you be able to marry Helen, you’ll be next in line for the throne! And Priam is ageing quickly. Since the death of Hector his will to live has faded; it won’t be long before his mighty spirit is led away to the Underworld. And what then? Would you have Deiphobus become king, with Helen as his queen? Or would you rather see yourself ruling Troy, with the most beautiful woman in Ilium at your side?’
Apheidas leaned forward as he spoke, his handsome face bathed in the orange glow of the hearth. His tone was forceful and persuasive, not in the least bit afraid as he talked of fratricide and treason. And his barbed words had snagged in Helenus’s mind, feeding on his anger and exciting his pervasive lust for power. He imagined himself seated on Priam’s magnificent throne with Helen beside him, while all the elders and commanders of the army prostrated themselves in obedience at his feet. Then a cough and a small movement broke the chain of his thoughts. Looking up, he saw Astynome refilling Apheidas’s krater for a second time, though her gaze was fixed on Helenus. Her penetrating stare seemed accusative, pouring cold water on his fantasies. Was his resentment so strong that he was prepared to kill his brother? And if it was, would his ambition then have the patience for his father to die naturally, or would he be tempted to hasten the process himself? Indeed, once awoken, the lion of ambition was not an easy creature to put to sleep again.
‘I can’t,’ he said.
‘You can,’ Apheidas countered. ‘I will be at your side to help you. Don’t you desire Helen?’
‘Of course I do, but by now she’s married to Deiphobus. And I’m no warrior; what chance would I stand against him?’
Apheidas reached out and snatched his wrist, pulling him to his feet.
‘Come with me.’
He led the prince to a side entrance, thrusting the panelled door open with the heel of his free hand. At once, Helenus could feel the cool night air on his skin and smell the mingled aromas of wet foliage and damp soil. They stepped out into a square courtyard, filled with fruit trees and shrubs and surrounded by a pillared cloister. It was dark, the only light coming from the few stars that winked between the tattered edges of a thin screen of cloud. At first the garden seemed silent and still, slumbering in its own gloom. Then Helenus became aware of a low hissing that hovered at the edge of his hearing, enticing his senses and focussing them as they searched for the source.
‘What’s that noise?’ he asked.
‘That way.’
Apheidas pointed to a path that led between high bushes to the centre of the garden. Helenus hesitated a moment, then followed the line of flagstones to a border of low shrubs surrounding a large, black square in the ground. From the edge of the garden he had thought it to be a pond, but as he got nearer he noticed there was no hint of reflection in its dark waters and that a flight of stone steps descended into its depths on one side. Realising he was looking at a pit, and that the strange hissing sound was emanating from its heart, he stepped closer.
‘Careful,’ Apheidas warned. ‘Fall in there and Priam will have lost another son.’
Helenus nevertheless edged forward and looked down. The darkness was deep and all-consuming at first, as if a hole had been torn from the living world to reveal the black chasm of Tartarus below. As he stared he became aware that something at the base of the Stygian pit was catching the starlight, causing it to glisten weakly in a hundred different places. Then he saw the points of reflected light were moving – faint, slithering signs of life that seemed to intensify and spread as he watched, until the whole of the void was filled with a hideous writhing. He stepped back and shuddered.
‘Snakes! So this is where you keep the sacrifices for Apollo.’
Apheidas nodded. ‘My ancestors have always been devotees of the archer god. We were warriors, not priests, but one of our duties before my father was exiled from Troy was to breed snakes for the temple. He carried it on in Alybas, after he fled to Greece, and I revived the tradition when I returned to Troy. Apollo’s priests place a high value on serpents as sacrifices, but they have other uses too. Their venom, for instance.’
He placed an arm around Helenus’s shoulders and steered him back towards the main hall.
‘You don’t need to kill Deiphobus with your own hands. The right kind of snake left somewhere that only your brother will find it; a quick bite on the hand; then Helen will soon be your wife and you’ll be next in line to rule Troy.’
Helenus shook off Apheidas’s heavy arm as they reached the cloister.
‘I don’t know what you hope to gain from this, Apheidas,’ he said, turning to face him, ‘but you’ve overestimated my abilities. I’m not sure I can do what you’re suggesting.’
‘Have you already forgotten your anger after you were humiliated in the palace?’ Apheidas said, forcefully. ‘Don’t you care that Priam chose Deiphobus over you, or that he just expects you to give him the oracles tomorrow evening? He and your brother treated you like a child, but it’s up to you to prove you’r
e a man.’
‘But I’m not a man!’ Helenus protested. ‘At least, I’m not the man you think me to be; nor am I the sort of man Deiphobus and my father are. I hate them for humiliating me tonight, but I couldn’t easily take their places. Even if I was to do all you say, murdering my brother and taking the throne when Priam dies, who am I to rule over such a great city as Troy? In peacetime it would be difficult enough, but with an army of Greeks laying siege to Ilium it’d be almost impossible. Besides, the walls aren’t as impenetrable as we thought. The oracles my … the oracles that were revealed to me predict Troy will fall if the Greeks can do three things – I told you that! If Agamemnon finds out what they are –’
‘He won’t,’ Apheidas said through clenched teeth, his impatience becoming evident. ‘And you aren’t as weak as you think. With my help Helen will be yours and you will be the one to inherit your father’s throne.’
‘Stop pressuring me!’ Helenus shouted. ‘Don’t you realise your words are treasonous, that I could have you killed for the things you’ve said tonight?’
Apheidas stared at him through narrowed eyes.
‘That would depend on whom Priam believed – a defiant, ambitious son with everything to gain from his father’s death, or a loyal captain claiming he was coerced into joining a plot against the throne. But let’s not succumb to our tempers, Helenus. Take some time alone, here in the garden, to think on what I’ve said. If you want Helen, I’ll be waiting by the hearth to discuss what we can do. If your anger and ambition aren’t matched by your courage, then you can return to the palace and neither of us will mention this incident again – to one another or to anybody else. Do you agree?’
Helenus gave a surly nod and turned to look at the dark garden, waiting until he heard the door shut behind him before releasing a long breath and letting his shoulders slump in despair. He quickly tensed again when he saw a figure emerge from the shadows beneath one of the cloisters.
‘Don’t be afraid, my lord.’ It was the servant girl, Astynome. ‘I followed you into the garden to see if you would agree to kill Deiphobus.’
‘The testament of a maid won’t help Apheidas if he intends to accuse me of plotting against my father.’
‘I’m not here on his orders.’
‘Then why?’ Helenus asked, moving further away from the door to the main hall and nearer to the girl. ‘To see if I really am a traitor? And how would you feel if I’d have agreed to your master’s plot?’
Astynome moved closer so that her features were clearly visible in the gloom.
‘A few months ago I would have considered you vile, lower than the creatures that infest that pit over there. Now –’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Now I don’t see things in such simplistic terms. After all, I’m a traitor myself. My heart betrayed Troy for the sake of a Greek, and now he thinks I’ve betrayed him. But I’d gladly see Troy burn if it meant I could be with him again. So, you see, I’m in no place to judge you.’
Helenus considered her for a moment and realised there was more to the servant girl than her beauty. He also felt her words were spoken in honesty and that he could entrust his problems to her.
‘The truth is, I’m so angry I could do almost anything,’ he began. ‘When Priam awarded Helen to Deiphobus it was a deliberate humiliation, and as the gods are my witnesses I’d rather reveal the oracles to the Greeks than be forced to give them to my father and brother! I want to teach them a lesson they’ll remember, Astynome, but how can a lowly priest gain revenge against a warrior prince and a king? And yet, after tonight I don’t know whether I want Apheidas’s help.’
‘You’re right not to trust him. He wants Priam’s throne for himself and he’s only using you to remove the obstacles in his path. With Deiphobus dead, he would ensure the demise of your younger brothers before encouraging you to take the throne from your father. And then he would kill you and claim it for himself. That’s how his mind works, Helenus. What’s more, if you don’t agree to his proposal he’ll kill you and hide your body so it looks like you’ve run away in a fit of jealous anger.’
Helenus felt for the slender dagger tucked away beneath his robes and immediately knew it would be no use against a seasoned fighter like Apheidas. And yet the servant girl’s words rang true. He knew he would not walk out of the captain’s house alive unless he agreed on his oath to kill Deiphobus, thus starting a chain of events that would ultimately lead to his own death. Even if he told Deiphobus and his father of Apheidas’s plans, what proof would he have? How would he defend himself if Apheidas turned the accusation back against him? He looked again at the servant girl, and as her eyes met his he knew she understood his dilemma and had an answer in mind.
‘Then what should I do?’
‘Is your anger against Deiphobus and Priam genuine?’
‘Yes, but not enough to become Apheidas’s puppet.’
‘Then you must flee the city and go to the Greeks.’
‘The Greeks,’ he scoffed. ‘The Greeks will kill me, or just ransom me back to my father.’
Astynome shook her head.
‘Not if you do as I tell you. Over there is another door. It opens on to an alley that will take you out to the neighbouring temple. Find a horse, leave Pergamos and make your way out of the city. Ride to the Greek camp and demand to see Odysseus.’
‘The Ithacan? But what if he refuses to see me?’
‘He won’t. Not if you offer to tell him about the oracles I heard you speak of, the ones that hold the key to the destruction of Troy. Didn’t you say you’d rather give them to the Greeks than be forced to reveal them to Priam and Deiphobus? And won’t this give you the vengeance you were craving? Besides, Odysseus is an intelligent man, the cleverest of all the Greeks; he’ll see the importance of what you have to offer and give you whatever you want in exchange.’
Helenus pondered her words, sucking in his bottom lip as he eyed the girl’s dark beauty. He thought of Helen and his humiliation in the great hall, and then of the menacing figure of Apheidas, who would reappear at any moment and demand the answer to his question.
‘I should go at once,’ he said with a nod. ‘Your master won’t wait much longer.’
He moved towards the door Astynome had indicated, but she stepped in front of him and placed a hand on his chest.
‘I’ve helped you, Helenus, and now I want you to do something for me in return.’
‘What is it?’
‘When you see Odysseus, ask to speak to the captain of his guard – a man named Eperitus. Make sure Eperitus knows that it was me that sent you to the Greek camp, and that I encouraged you to entrust the oracles to them. That’s all.’
Helenus nodded and with a nervous glance over his shoulder ran to the door that led out to the temple of Apollo. As he reached it, he turned to look at Astynome.
‘This Eperitus,’ he asked. ‘Is he the Greek you fell in love with?’
Astynome nodded.
‘Then I will tell him you were prepared to give up Troy’s secrets for his sake. May the gods protect you, Astynome.’
Chapter Thirteen
THE ORACLES OF TROY
Eperitus rode his mount up to the top of the ridge where the temple of Thymbrean Apollo stood tall and black against the stars. Odysseus joined him and together they sat staring in silence at the familiar sight of Troy below them, before dismounting and tying the reins of their horses to the trees that formed the walls of the temple. The others followed their example and Eperitus, sword drawn, led the way into the shadowy circle of laurels. Their curved trunks bent inwards like the ribcage of a rotted carcass, looming over him as he entered, while the thickly interlaced branches formed a ceiling that only the faintest trace of starlight could penetrate. The floor within had been laid over with large, even flagstones and at the far end was an altar of white marble. It was a dim grey in the gloom, its surface scattered not with the sacrifices of reverent worshippers but the curled husks of fallen leaves. In the murk behind it was a wooden eff
igy, carved from the stump of a dead tree into the likeness of the god Apollo. Dense fronds of ivy bound its legs and torso and from its clenched fists protruded a horn bow and a bronze arrow, the latter gleaming dully in the shadows.
‘So what are we looking for?’ Antiphus asked, sweeping the leaves from the altar with his forearm and leaning across it to stare at the effigy of Apollo.
‘I don’t see anything different,’ said Eurybates, Odysseus’s squire, as he stared around at the deserted temple. Having been left in charge of the Ithacan camp while the others had sailed to Lemnos, he had insisted on riding with them that evening to relieve his boredom. The expression on his face, however, was one of disappointment. ‘What did Calchas say we would find?’
Eperitus stood over the place where his father had stabbed Arceisius in the back only two weeks before, looking down at the floor as if expecting to see his squire’s blood still staining the flagstones.
‘Perhaps we won’t find anything,’ he said. ‘Who’s to say we’ve not been sent here on one of Calchas’s drunken whims.’
‘You’re too cynical, Eperitus,’ Odysseus remarked, standing with his hands on his hips and looking up at the ceiling. ‘If the gods want us to know how to defeat Troy, they’ll find a way to tell us. Apollo may even appear to us in person.’
With the exception of Eperitus – who had encountered immortals before – the others turned to him with looks of mixed alarm and curiosity. Antiphus slipped back from the altar and stared uncertainly at the effigy of the god, while Eurybates and Omeros followed the king’s gaze up to the ceiling of branches, as if expecting Apollo to appear in the air above them at that very moment. Then Eperitus cocked his head to one side and narrowed his eyes, listening intently.
‘I can hear hooves,’ he announced. ‘A single horse, approaching from the direction of Troy. And its rider’s in a hurry.’
Polites, who had remained by the entrance, threw back his cloak and made to draw his sword. Odysseus raised a cautionary hand.