by Iliffe, Glyn
‘Let him come. The temple is neutral ground, respected by both sides.’
‘Not by my father,’ Eperitus growled.
‘It won’t be Apheidas,’ Odysseus replied, able to hear the distant sound of hooves himself now. ‘But whoever it is, he might just be the reason we were sent here. Pull up your hoods all of you and come back into the shadows.’
The others did as they were ordered, waiting in silence as they heard the hooves top the ridge not far from the temple and then come to a sharp halt. There was a pause as the rider doubtless saw the tethered horses of the Greeks and debated whether to carry on to the temple or turn back. Then they heard him dismount and lead his animal to the circle of laurel trees. The layered boles of the trees were so densely packed that only dark glimpses of the man and his horse were visible as he came closer, but Eperitus’s keen ears had already noted that the telltale sounds of leather or bronze that would have indicated a fully armed warrior were absent. Whoever the rider was, he was travelling light.
He tethered his horse and entered the temple: the slight figure of a youth, dressed in a dark cloak that was thrown back over both shoulders to reveal a simple, knee-length tunic of typical Trojan style. His beardless face was indistinguishable in the gloom, but the hesitation in his approach betrayed his unease as he walked slowly into the circle of trees. The whites of his eyes gleamed slightly as they fell on the six hooded figures.
‘This temple is neutral ground,’ he declared in Greek. His voice was high and tense. ‘All I want is to make an offering to the god and seek his blessing. Then I’ll be on my way.’
‘Go ahead and make your offering, son,’ Odysseus replied in the Trojan tongue. ‘We won’t stop you.’
Helenus’s eyes lingered on the Greeks a moment longer, then he reached into a leather satchel at his hip and pulled out four or five flat, round cakes. He approached the altar and laid them on the cold marble, before falling to his knees and bowing his head. After a sidelong, self-conscious glance at the Greeks, he closed his eyes, raised his hands before the crude effigy and began to pray.
‘Lord Apollo, if I’ve served you with any loyalty, if my past sacrifices have brought you pleasure, then I beg you to hear my prayer. Guide me safely to … to my destination, and let me find the man I was told to seek. My offerings are small and hurried tonight, but if you give me the vengeance my anger – no, my fury – demands, then I promise to thank you with the thigh bones and fat of a young calf.’
‘Vengeance?’ Odysseus said with a tone of mock interest.
Helenus turned to see two of the hooded men standing behind him.
‘You should have gone to a temple of Artemis,’ Eperitus added. ‘If it’s revenge you want, few gods can match her.’
‘I am a follower of Apollo, not his sister,’ Helenus replied. ‘And now I’ve made my prayer I will leave the temple to you.’
He made to step around the Greeks, but Odysseus raised a hand to stop him. It was then that Helenus noticed the other four men were standing by the single egress from the temple.
‘You said you would let me make my offering,’ he protested.
‘And so we have,’ Odysseus replied. ‘But don’t fear. We intend you no harm. Answer us a few questions and you can be on your way.’
‘What sort of questions?’
‘Your name, to start with.’
‘Helenus, son of Priam,’ Helenus confessed, after a moment’s hesitation. ‘But if you’re thinking I’ll fetch a good ransom because I’m a prince then you’ll be disappointed. I’m a priest, not a warrior, and my father values me less than the dogs that feed on the scraps from his table.’
‘We’re not after hostages,’ Eperitus countered. ‘We were sent here for information. We were told we would find the secret to the downfall of Troy in this temple tonight –’
Eperitus felt Odysseus’s hand on his arm and turned to see an admonishing look in the king’s eye. Clearly, he had said too much. Then he saw Odysseus’s gaze turn to Helenus; Eperitus followed and saw that the prince’s eyes were staring at him, wide with surprise.
‘Who sent you?’ he asked.
‘Calchas, the seer,’ Odysseus answered. ‘Do you know of him?’
Helenus nodded.
‘Yes. His reputation as a traitor is well known in Troy, though I also have vague memories of him from when I was a very young boy – his shuffling walk, and those piercing eyes.’
‘And are you the one he sent us to look for?’ Odysseus continued.
There was a tautness to the king’s tone, like a hunter who has sighted his prey and yet is afraid to launch his spear too soon for fear of startling the animal and sending it fleeing for cover. Helenus looked at the hooded men, their features indistinguishable in the gloom, and for a moment it looked as if he would tell them everything. Then he checked himself and stepped back towards the altar, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. It seemed the prey had flown.
‘Let me go. If you dishonour the neutrality of this temple you dishonour the gods themselves.’
‘The temple’s neutrality has nothing to do with the gods,’ Odysseus corrected. ‘The Greeks and Trojans came to a mutual understanding early in the war that it should be left open to both sides. And in the dead of the night there’ll be nobody to witness one small violation. Take him.’
At his signal Polites and Eurybates rushed forward and seized the prince by his arms.
‘And I’m curious,’ Odysseus continued, watching the captive struggle uselessly against their hold. ‘Why would anybody want to visit the temple so late, unless they were up to something they didn’t want anyone else to know about? Who’s this man you’re so desperate for Apollo to lead you to, and what’s made you furious enough to seek vengeance? What, exactly, are you up to, Helenus?’
‘I’ll speak to no man but Odysseus, or Eperitus his captain!’
‘Then Apollo has heard your prayer,’ Odysseus said, tipping back his hood. ‘I am King Odysseus of Ithaca, son of Laertes, and this is Eperitus, the captain of my guard.’
Eperitus lowered his hood and stepped forward to look at the prince, who had given up his struggles and now hung between his Ithacan captors, staring at Odysseus and Eperitus in disbelief.
‘Who told you to find us?’
‘A servant girl called Astynome,’ Helenus answered. Eperitus’s eyes widened momentarily, but he said nothing. ‘After Paris was slain, Deiphobus and I laid claim to Helen. Deiphobus is the elder and has fought valiantly against the Greeks, but I am a seer and offered to tell my father the oracles that were given to me to ensure the safety of Troy – or guarantee its destruction – if he gave me Helen for my wife.’
Odysseus and Eperitus exchanged glances.
‘Go on,’ the king said.
Helenus looked at the ground in anger and shame.
‘Priam chose Deiphobus. My brother forced Helen to marry him there and then, against her will, while I was ordered to give up the oracles to the council of elders tomorrow night. They humiliated me, and I want revenge.’
He looked up and there was a fierce rage burning in his eyes at the memory of what had happened in the great hall.
‘Menelaus won’t be happy,’ said Eurybates, still holding the prince’s arm. ‘He was hoping the Trojans would give Helen back to him after Paris was killed.’
‘I’d hoped the same,’ Odysseus confessed, ‘but it looks like we’ll have to do things the hard way, as usual. And yet it seems Calchas was correct: the gods have disclosed the means to conquer Troy, and the one man they’ve given this knowledge to is right here before us. Is your unhappiness so great, Helenus, that you’re prepared to betray these oracles to the enemies of your people?’
Helenus nodded and Odysseus signalled to Polites and Eurybates to release him.
‘Then tell me what they are.’
‘What, now? Here?’
‘I’m a hasty man,’ Odysseus answered, with a shrug. ‘The sooner you tell me, the sooner we can carry out the gods’ com
mands.’
Helenus seemed hesitant, as if wondering whether the Ithacan king and his men could be trusted.
‘First you must guarantee my safety, and once I’ve told you the oracles I want to be given safe passage away from Ilium. This country is no longer my home and the gods have already foretold its doom.’
‘You have my word,’ Odysseus said.
Antiphus and Omeros had left the entrance to the temple and were now standing either side of Odysseus and Eperitus. With Eurybates and Polites, they formed a circle with Helenus at their apex.
‘Then listen to what the gods have declared,’ he began. ‘Troy will fall this year if three conditions are met. First, the shoulder bone of Pelops must be fetched from his tomb in Greece and brought to Ilium. Second, Neoptolemus, Achilles’s son, must join the Greek army, for it’s his destiny to extinguish Troy’s royal line. And third, you must take the Palladium from the temple of Athena in Pergamos. Do all these things and victory will be yours.’
‘Rob a grave, kidnap a boy and steal a lump of burned wood,’ Eperitus mused. ‘Not impossible, even if I don’t see the point.’
‘Oh, there’s a point,’ Odysseus said. ‘If this is the path laid out by the gods then you can be sure there’s a reason behind it. And it won’t be easy, either. But at least now I know what I have to do to bring an end to this war.’
He touched the small dried flower in his belt, which all the Ithacans wore to remind them of their home.
Chapter Fourteen
THE LEGEND OF PELOPS
Agamemnon’s tent was bright and airy, filled with the early morning light that filtered in through its cotton and flax walls. It was essentially the same tent he had used when the fleet had gathered at Aulis so long ago, although it was enlarged in places and the canvas panels were replaced from time to time to keep it looking clean and white. From their first arrival on the shores of Ilium, Agamemnon had refused to follow the other leaders and build himself a hut, seeing it as defeatist and a signal to the army that he did not believe in a swift victory. And as the years of war had passed, his resolve had grown stronger, though the rich furnishings, the thick furs over the floor, the wide, oblong hearth at its centre and the many guards and slaves made the tent more a palace than a temporary military headquarters.
Eperitus barely noticed the familiar surroundings as he stood with his hands behind his back, lost in his own thoughts. Helenus was beside him, noticeably nervous as he waited in the quarters of Troy’s chief enemy, while opposite him Odysseus was standing with his arms crossed, his green eyes keenly watching the three men seated on the other side of the hearth. Agamemnon, Menelaus and Nestor were bent in towards each other, their heads almost touching as they spoke together in hushed voices. Eperitus’s gaze fell on Agamemnon, whom he hated, and moved away again. If he had wanted to, Eperitus could have heard everything they said, but he preferred to think on the words Helenus had shared with him on the slow journey back from the temple of Thymbrean Apollo. Words he should have dismissed with all his heart and mind, but which even his usually resolute spirit could not.
It began when Helenus had mentioned Astynome in the temple. Eperitus’s heartbeat had quickened at the sound of her name and his thoughts slid in an avalanche back to the girl whose beauty had opened up his guard, and whose treachery had then wounded him deeper than any Trojan spear could ever have done. Since he had watched her ride away from the temple that night with Apheidas, her master, he had resolved to drive her out of his mind and heart; to disregard her false promises of marriage and children and return to the warrior’s creed of immortality through glory. But the passion of his younger years – when he had not known love and his only desire was to win honour and renown on the battlefield – seemed cold and lonely compared to her, a poor comforter when he wanted nothing more than to forget the woman who had conquered him. So when Helenus had ridden up beside him and repeated the words Astynome had spoken in Apheidas’s garden, that she was the one who had encouraged the prince to betray Troy and reveal the oracles to the Greeks, Eperitus felt his resolve against her weaken. She was letting him know she was prepared to see her beloved Troy defeated by the hated Greeks for his sake; that her loyalty was not to her homeland or to Apheidas, but to him. It was a message that his anger wanted to reject, and he might have found the determination to rid her from his thoughts again if Helenus had not placed a hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eye.
‘Whatever it was she did to betray your trust,’ he had said, ‘she’s changed. I don’t understand women and I know nothing about love, but that servant girl loves you. She confessed as much to me, and I believe her.’
As Eperitus turned the words over and over again in his mind, the three kings ended their discussion and sat up. Agamemnon leaned to one side of his heavy fur-draped chair and rested his chin on his fist.
‘You say these visions were given to you in a dream,’ he said, eyeing Helenus coldly.
‘Yes, my lord. In the temple of Thymbrean Apollo.’
‘And you haven’t told them to your father.’
‘To no-one at all. Odysseus was the first to hear them.’
‘And we’re supposed to believe this is because you wanted to marry my wife, but she was given to Deiphobus instead,’ Menelaus said.
There was a dark look in his eyes, still furious from the news that Helen had already been married off to another of Priam’s sons. Helenus was about to reply, but Odysseus spoke first.
‘He was angry at Helen’s treatment – being forced to marry against her will. Didn’t you hear what he said, Menelaus? That she begged to be sent back to you?’
‘A lie,’ the Spartan snarled. ‘If she wanted me, she’d have found a way back years ago. The truth is your little prince wanted her for himself, or – what’s more likely – he’s been sent here by his father to trick us. These oracles are nothing more than a distraction, to send us chasing after our own tails rather than attacking the walls of Troy in earnest!’
‘A trick?’ Helenus snorted, his princely arrogance getting the better of him. He stepped forward and pointed a finger at Menelaus. ‘And what would such a trick achieve? At the most, one or two galleys sent to find a dead man’s shoulder bone and fetch a boy from his mother’s arms. If I’d been sent to fool you, wouldn’t I have been better directing half your army to besiege some distant city, or leading you into a well-planned trap?’
‘The lad’s right, Menelaus,’ Nestor added. ‘Besides, some of it, at least, makes sense. The Palladium, for instance. We’ve long known the value the Trojans place on that.’
Menelaus gave a derisive laugh.
‘And how do you propose we steal Troy’s favourite ornament? Knock on the gates and ask them to let us in? It’s just a lump of old wood, Nestor.’
‘The Palladium is sacred,’ Helenus protested. ‘Athena made it in honour of her friend, Pallas, whom she killed in an accident.’
‘We have enough divine trinkets of our own,’ Menelaus said. He pointed at the ornate golden sceptre that lay on a table nearby. ‘That rod was made by Hephaistos for Zeus himself, who in turn gave it to Hermes before he gave it to Pelops, my grandfather. The man whose tomb you want us to desecrate! Philoctetes has a bow that once belonged to immortalised Heracles, and Odysseus standing beside you owns a complete set of armour that Hephaistos made for Achilles at the request of his mother, Thetis. And that’s just to name a few of the god-made heirlooms that we possess.’
‘That isn’t the point of the Palladium,’ Odysseus said. ‘The Trojans hold that it fell from heaven into the temple of Athena when it was still being built. The first king of Troy, Ilus, was told in a dream that the city would never be conquered as long as the image remained in the temple. If we could find a way to take it from them, the blow to their morale alone would be significant.’
‘And Neoptolemus?’ Agamemnon asked. ‘Why would the gods have us fetch Achilles’s son here to Ilium? He can’t be much more than fifteen years old.’
; ‘His father was only a little older when he joined the army,’ Eperitus said. ‘And if Neoptolemus is even half the man Achilles was, then wouldn’t he be worth the voyage to Scyros?’
‘Achilles had many qualities, but not all of them were good,’ Agamemnon replied. ‘Do you forget the Trojans broke into this camp while he sat idle and nearly torched the fleet, all because Achilles’s wounded pride would not permit him to fight?’
‘Achilles made the mistake of believing his whims were more important than the war itself,’ Odysseus said. ‘But the gods knew better, and when Achilles’s pride led to the death of Patroclus, his friend and lover, he knew it too. We shouldn’t fool ourselves into thinking these oracles can be ignored. As Helenus says, it’ll require nothing more than a galley or two to fetch Neoptolemus from Scyros and Pelops’s bone from –’
‘The strangest oracle of them all, don’t you think?’ Agamemnon interrupted, narrowing his icy blue eyes as he focussed on Odysseus. ‘I understand the Palladium, and even Neoptolemus; but my grandfather’s shoulder bone?’
‘Who are we to understand the commands of the gods?’ said Nestor. ‘This much I can say, though: Pelops’s shoulder bone was no ordinary bone; it was made of ivory and –’
‘Put there by the gods!’ Odysseus added, his eyes alight with realisation.
‘What do you mean?’ Eperitus asked, confused.
‘I’ll explain another time,’ Odysseus answered in a low voice. He returned his gaze to the Atreides brothers. ‘Whatever the significance, someone has to be sent to Pisa to fetch the bone, and then to Scyros on the return journey to persuade Neoptolemus to come to Troy. We can decide what to do about the Palladium when they get back.’
‘It’s a waste of effort, dreamed up by this Trojan prince to buy Priam more time,’ Menelaus said.
Agamemnon held up a hand to silence his brother’s protests. A moment later, he stood and signalled to one of the attendant slaves, who brought him a krater of wine.
‘If I’ve questioned the significance of these oracles, it isn’t because I was ever in any doubt that we should attempt to fulfil them. After all, didn’t Calchas say we would find the key to the gates of Troy in the temple of Thymbrean Apollo last night? And now, suddenly, three new oracles are revealed to us. No, we must send a ship without further delay.’