The Oracles of Troy (The Adventures of Odysseus)

by Iliffe, Glyn

  ‘And what about you, Odysseus? Why did you risk your life to enter Troy? Have the Greeks accepted they’ll never conquer our walls and sent you to kidnap me instead?’

  ‘That would be a hopeless task, Helen. Getting into Troy alone is one thing, but to take you against your will and try to leave again would be impossible.’

  ‘And if I was willing?’ she teased.

  There was a pause as their eyes met, then Odysseus gave a dismissive shake of his head.

  ‘Even if you were, you’re too beautiful by far to smuggle out of the Scaean Gate without being noticed.’

  ‘Then why are you here?’

  Odysseus looked at her again, his eyes questioning and firm.

  ‘If I told you that, and you betrayed me, it would be a mortal blow to our hopes of conquering Troy.’

  ‘I won’t betray your mission to anyone, Odysseus. You have my solemn oath, as Aphrodite is my witness.’

  ‘Then I’ve come to steal the Palladium.’

  ‘The Palladium?’ Helen gave a short, incredulous laugh, but when she saw that Odysseus was serious the smile fell from her lips and she leaned her elbows on her knees again. ‘You really want to steal the Palladium? There’re too many guards for a single warrior to overcome – and you haven’t even brought a sword.’

  ‘I’ll find one.’

  ‘But why risk everything for a lump of wood? Is it because of that old myth?’ She shook her head. ‘Even if you did manage to take the Palladium and escape with your life, the walls wouldn’t just come tumbling down, you know.’

  ‘No they wouldn’t. And yet Agamemnon has ordered me to steal it, so you can either give me some clothes and send me on my way, or you can break your oath and call the guard. Which will it be?’

  He rose to his feet, letting the water stream down his heavy bulk. Helen stood, too, and raised a hand towards him.

  ‘Wait a moment,’ she said. ‘You can’t just charge through the palace naked and unarmed. Sit down and let’s give this some thought. Maybe I can help you.’

  Odysseus eased himself back into the water.

  ‘Why would you help me, Helen? If the Greeks are victorious, you’ll just be returned to Menelaus and dragged back home to Sparta, to be detested until the end of your days for bringing about a war that has killed thousands.’

  ‘Can Menelaus be any worse than Deiphobus, who forced me to marry him after Paris was killed? Can anyone who isn’t Paris bring me the joy and happiness he did? And can Sparta be any worse a prison than Troy is? For that’s all I am now, Odysseus – a prisoner, kept here against my will while men continue to die in their thousands for my sake. I’d rather be reunited with Menelaus than remain stuck inside these walls. At least he was always kind to me when we were together, which is more than I will say for Deiphobus. Besides, if I returned to Sparta I would see my children again. I know it was my choice to leave them, but I’m not the person I was then. I’ve suffered just as much as any warrior on the plains of Troy, and all I want now is for the war to end – whoever wins. Do you understand?’

  She sat back down on the stool, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of wine and anger. But if the wine had released her emotions, it was the anger that drove her on now. She jabbed a finger accusingly at Odysseus.

  ‘You have to take me with you, Odysseus. Forget the damned Palladium; the walls of Troy won’t need to be conquered if the Greeks have me. Take me back to Menelaus and the war will end. All I ask is a little time to fetch Pleisthenes –’

  ‘I’ll never be able to get you and your son out of Troy.’

  ‘I won’t abandon another child, Odysseus,’ she snapped. ‘And think about it: if you take us back to Menelaus, then the fighting will be over and you can return to Ithaca. Surely you want to see Penelope again?’

  ‘There’s nothing I want more,’ he answered, ‘but this isn’t the way to do it. Even if Pleisthenes agrees to come, you’ll be too much of a burden – escape would be impossible. And haven’t you realised yet, Helen? This war isn’t about you any more. It stopped being about you the moment Agamemnon had brought the Greek kings under his command and set sail for Ilium. You’re just the figurehead, something for Agamemnon to point at while he ensures the destruction of the greatest obstacle to his own power. If you return to Menelaus the war would still go on – only Agamemnon would probably have you assassinated and blame it on the Trojans, turning the war from a matter of honour to a matter of revenge.’

  ‘So you won’t help me?’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Not for anything?’

  She stood and unfastened the brooch at her shoulder. The chiton slipped down to her feet and she stepped free of it, brushing it aside with her toes. Odysseus swallowed and raised himself onto his elbows, transfixed by the sight of Helen’s naked body. Her oiled skin was a matchless white, broken only by the pink ovals of her nipples and the black triangle of her pubic hair. Then, before he could even think to force his gaze away, she crouched down and slid into the bath. For an agonising moment her nakedness was lost below the water, then she moved towards him and pressed her body against his.

  ‘I’ll give myself to you, Odysseus,’ she whispered, her face so close he could smell the wine on her breath. ‘Promise to take me away from here and I’ll be yours, right now. Deiphobus is at a feast to honour the visit of King Anchises, Aeneas’s father, from Dardanus; we won’t be disturbed.’

  ‘No,’ he said, turning his face away.

  Helen kissed his cheek and slid her fingers into his hair. The soft weight of her chest pressed down on his and he wavered, looking into her eyes and seeing the promise that was in them. The blood was in her lips and cheeks and he could feel the hardness of her nipples, craving for his touch. The wine in her veins and the grief in her heart had filled her with a reckless desire that cared nothing for what might happen if they were discovered. And her passion was infectious, spreading through the heat of her naked skin into Odysseus so that his arms slipped around her and trapped her body against his. He had not felt the touch of a woman since leaving Ithaca; now, suddenly, the long years of loneliness and need rose up like a great wave that threatened to sweep him away. But as his eyes looked into hers another instinct – deeper than his lust – told him the woman in his arms was not his woman. He seized her by the waist and pushed her away.

  ‘No!’ he repeated, more firmly this time. ‘I will not betray Penelope.’

  ‘Don’t be a fool!’ she replied hotly, rising to her feet so that the water streamed from her shoulders and breasts. ‘You want me, I can feel it. And I want you!’

  ‘You don’t want me, Helen. All you want is for someone to make love to you and help you forget your own misery.’

  ‘And what of it? Don’t you have the same need? You haven’t seen Penelope in ten years – and surely you haven’t been faithful to her in all that time? Even if you have, what does it matter anyway? Take me now, Odysseus, while you still have the chance – or deny your instincts and continue in the vain, pathetic hope you might one day be reunited with your wife! Can you risk more years without a lover’s touch – a touch that for all your faithfulness you might never know again?’

  Odysseus thought of the oracle he had been given under Mount Parnassus, which had solemnly announced that if he went to Troy he would not see his home again for twenty years. One decade had already passed; could he bear to wait another? And then he remembered the old oracles that had said the war would end in the tenth year, and the new ones that promised Troy would fall if the Palladium could be stolen from the city. No, he insisted to himself, he would bring the war to a finish and sail back to his wife – and the pleasure of a few moments would not mar that homecoming for him. He pulled himself up onto the edge of the bath.

  ‘I’m sorry, Helen. You’re not in your right mind, and even if you were I could never become your lover. Nor can I help you escape from Troy – with or without Pleisthenes.’

  Her eyes were ablaze now.

  ‘If yo
u refuse to help me get out then I’ll make sure you share my imprisonment. All it would take is a single scream.’

  Odysseus swung his legs out of the water and stood. A stack of folded towels waited on a nearby stool; he took one and began drying himself.

  ‘Then call the guard.’

  She glared at him from the bath, provoked to rage by his rejection and tempted to accept his challenge. Then she lowered her face into her hands and sobbed. Odysseus stopped rubbing his hair and looked on helplessly for a moment, before throwing the towel about his waist and kneeling at the water’s edge.

  ‘Here,’ he said, offering her his hand.

  ‘I have to be free of these walls, Odysseus,’ she replied, keeping her face in her hands. ‘I don’t care if Agamemnon and Priam want to keep on fighting. I just want to get out, get away; be anywhere but here.’

  He took her hands in his and slowly drew them back. The unconquerable walls of Helen’s beauty had fallen to expose the red eyes and damp cheeks of a broken human being – the same frightened young girl he had occasionally glimpsed in the great hall at Sparta, during the feasts held in her honour so many years before.

  ‘I can’t take you with me,’ he said, ‘but I can give you hope. The end of the war is in sight. There’s a new oracle that says Troy will fall this year if the Palladium can be taken from the temple of Athena. Diomedes is by the banks of the Simöeis, waiting for me to lower a rope to him. Together we will fulfil the oracle and seal Troy’s doom, and if you want an end to your imprisonment, Helen, then you have to help us.’

  She looked at him and smiled, the power of her beauty returning like the light of the sun that has been briefly concealed behind a cloud.

  ‘I’ll help,’ she said with a sniff. ‘I can take you to the place where the walls are easiest to climb. There are still guards, but I can distract them while you signal to Diomedes. Even then you’ll be hard pressed to enter the temple and escape with the Palladium alive.’

  ‘It’s a risk we’ll have to take.’

  Helen moved to the edge of the bath and Odysseus helped her out. She quickly covered her nakedness with one of the towels, then turned to him with a strange expression on her face.

  ‘There are other ways I can help you,’ she said. ‘My sister, Clytaemnestra, taught me how to make sleeping draughts when we were children. It’s a skill I’ve found use for here in Troy – to sooth Paris when he struggled to sleep, and also for Deiphobus on the nights when I can’t bear his touch. I can have my maids take a skin of wine for the guards at the temple, if you wish.’ She met Odysseus’s grin with a smile of her own. ‘And there’s something else – someone who can help you if you’re forced to fight your way out.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘A captured Greek – a nobleman, from the rumours my maids have heard. It’s curious, and I don’t know whether it’s true, but they say he’s being held in Apheidas’s own house rather than the usual rooms in the barracks, so it’ll be much easier to get him out – ’

  ‘Eperitus!’ Odysseus exclaimed, suddenly filled with excitement. ‘It’s Eperitus! By all the gods, I knew he wasn’t dead. Fetch me some clothes, Helen – I have to get to Apheidas’s house now.’

  Helen reached across and took his hand.

  ‘Diomedes first,’ she said, then turned and called for her maids.

  Chapter Thirty

  UNEXPECTED HELP

  The streets of Pergamos were cloaked in thick darkness as Helen led Odysseus towards the battlements. The flames of their torch left an orange glow on the walls of the buildings they passed, but at that time of night there was no-one to see them as they slipped out of a servants’ side entrance and between the narrow thoroughfares of the citadel. The greatest danger was from the guards patrolling the parapet, but Helen had sent two of her maids to keep them distracted while she and Odysseus signalled to Diomedes.

  ‘Any Greek soldier who deserted his duties for the sake of a woman would be flogged,’ Odysseus commented as they waited in the shadows of a house, looking up at the ramparts. ‘I don’t expect it’s any different for Trojans.’

  Helen raised a dismissive eyebrow at him before returning her gaze to the stone steps that led up to the walls.

  ‘I hand-picked my servants for their beauty and sexual charm, and there isn’t a soldier alive who could resist their advances. You’ve seen them, Odysseus, you know I’m right.’

  Odysseus recalled the girls who had undressed him and washed him clean, and even though their faces had been screwed up into expressions of severe disapproval there could be no denying their beauty.

  ‘So what are we waiting for?’

  ‘No harm in being certain,’ Helen replied.

  After she had waited a short while longer – long enough to be sure the guards’ regular tours of the battlements had been disrupted – she moved to the steps as swiftly as her long chiton would allow and ascended. Odysseus followed. His Trojan tunic hugged his knees and restricted his movement on the steps, but it was soft, warm and clean and a thousand times better than the beggar’s rags he had thrown onto the hearth in Helen’s house. Soon he was beside her on the wide walkway, looking beyond the parapet to the pale line of the Simöeis, lit by the sliver of moon above. The meandering ribbon of grey was interrupted in places where the banks were higher, or where clumps of trees or shrubs rose up from the river’s edge.

  ‘The walls are easier to climb here,’ Helen said. ‘The rock that Pergamos was built on rises up from the plain and makes the drop shorter. More importantly, when you make your escape you can’t risk leaving a rope tied around the battlements. If the guards find it they’ll be alerted to your presence and will raise the alarm, and as soon as they realise the Palladium has gone they’ll send out cavalry patrols to block your escape across the fords of the Scamander.’

  Odysseus had not thought that far ahead, but did not admit as much to Helen.

  ‘So are you suggesting we jump?’

  Helen pointed to an alcove in the walls. A deeper darkness indicated a gap in the floor and from the smell that drifted up from it Odysseus guessed it was a latrine.

  ‘There’s a rock shelf a short way below that hole. It isn’t pleasant, but you can drop down to it without too much danger and nobody will even realise you were here. Until morning, that is.’

  Odysseus grimaced slightly and nodded. Then he gave the torch to Helen and, with a glance either side of him along the empty walkways, began to unwind the rope tied around his waist.

  ‘I told Diomedes to look out for a light waved five times, left to right, from the battlements.’

  As he looped one end of the rope about his back and shoulders and tossed the other to the rocks below, Helen leaned over the ramparts and, stretching as low as she could reach, swung the torch in a wide arc five times. After several long, nervous moments they heard a hissed warning from below, followed by a tug on the rope. Odysseus quickly braced himself against Diomedes’s weight and before long the Argive king was clambering through a gap in the crenellated walls.

  ‘You smell a lot better,’ he greeted Odysseus. ‘Where’d you get the clothes from?’

  Then he noticed Helen and nearly fell back through the gap by which he had just arrived.

  ‘My lady,’ he said, recovering with a low bow. ‘But how –?’

  ‘Odysseus can tell you later,’ Helen said. ‘Have you brought weapons?’

  Diomedes, who had loved Helen ever since he had been among her suitors at Sparta in their youth, could barely take his eyes from her as he pulled aside his cloak and revealed the two blades tucked into his belt. He drew one and handed it to Odysseus.

  ‘You’re here to help us?’

  ‘Of course she is,’ Odysseus answered.

  Diomedes turned to him. ‘Then if we can persuade her to leave with us now, we could put an end to the war!’

  ‘Odysseus and I have already discussed that,’ Helen explained, with a slightly embarrassed glance at the king of Ithaca, ‘but I refused to lea
ve without Pleisthenes.’

  ‘There are other complications, too,’ Odysseus added, ‘but Helen is ready to shorten the war by at least helping us steal the Palladium.’

  ‘Then let’s find this temple of Athena,’ Diomedes said, turning back to Helen, ‘so you won’t have to wait any longer than necessary, my lady.’

  Diomedes moved to the top of the steps, but Odysseus placed an arresting hand on his upper arm.

  ‘There’s something we have to do first. Eperitus is being held prisoner here in the citadel. We release him first and then we take the effigy.’

  Diomedes looked at him with surprise, then seeing the determination in his friend’s eyes gave a silent nod.

  ‘Good,’ Odysseus said.

  He wound the rope around his waist again, took the torch and led the way back down the steps, entering the dark streets once more. They had not gone far when they saw two figures silhouetted against the end of a short thoroughfare. Odysseus and Diomedes raised their swords, ready to defend themselves.

  ‘Don’t be concerned,’ Helen said, stepping out ahead of them and lowering their blades. ‘I sent one of my maids to fetch a servant girl from Apheidas’s house. I’ve heard it said she’s befriended the Greek prisoner, so if the rumours are true and the prisoner is Eperitus then she’ll help you find him.’

  ‘And if she refuses?’

  ‘Then you will have to kill her,’ Helen replied.

  The two figures entered the circle of light cast by the torch. Odysseus’s gaze widened at the sight of Astynome, who stared back at him with equal surprise.

  ‘Odysseus!’

  She moved towards him with a smile, then stopped as she remembered the circumstances under which they had last met. Her eyes fell to the ground.

  ‘Is he still alive?’ the king asked.