by Iliffe, Glyn
He leapt towards her, his sword flashing red. Helen screamed, but Odysseus had anticipated Menelaus’s reaction and threw his arms about the Spartan’s chest, pulling him back.
‘Control your anger! We haven’t fought for ten years just so you can murder the woman we came to save.’
‘Let me go!’ Menelaus spat, desperately trying to throw off Odysseus’s bear-like grip.
‘Not until you’ve calmed down.’
‘Menelaus,’ Helen said, her voice soft but commanding.
Menelaus ceased struggling and looked up.
‘Husband,’ she continued. ‘Listen to Odysseus. Have you been through so much, just to kill me? Have you suffered for all these years just to rip open my flesh with your sword and bathe in my blood? Have thousands died just to slake your lust for vengeance? Such an empty victory! Or can something be retrieved from all this destruction?’
Odysseus slipped his arms from about Menelaus’s chest and eased the sword from his fingertips. Menelaus did not move.
‘I wanted you back,’ he replied. ‘That’s why I came after you. I’ve thought of little else since we first landed on these shores.’
‘And now you have me.’
‘Do I, Helen?’ Menelaus retorted. ‘Do I have my wife back, or – as it seems to me now we are face-to-face again – am I simply stealing another man’s woman, nothing more than a slave to tend to my needs and sleep with me, hiding her hatred beneath a bowed head? If that’s the case, then we’ll both be better off if I kill you now.’
Helen dropped the sword that had murdered Deiphobus and held her bloodstained hands imploringly towards Menelaus.
‘Don’t let it all be in vain. We were man and wife once; we can be again, and not without love, as you fear. Tell him, Odysseus. Tell him how I begged you to take me back with you to the Greek camp, so that I could be with my rightful husband again.’
Odysseus remembered how Helen had pleaded with him to take her from Troy, even offering him her body if he would return her to Menelaus and free her from the confines of the city walls and forced marriage to Deiphobus. He also recalled his debt to her, for not giving him away to the Trojan guards when he was at her mercy.
‘It’s true, Menelaus, and if she hadn’t insisted on bringing Pleisthenes it might have been possible. And look there. Is that the act of a woman in love, to murder her husband in cold blood?’
‘That poor soul?’ Menelaus said. ‘Even I can see she didn’t love him. But Deiphobus isn’t my concern – Paris is. The man who entered my house as a guest and left a thief, surrendering his honour for the sake of my wife.’ He turned his eyes on Helen. ‘Last year I might have believed you still loved me, that this whole war had a true purpose. Then I faced Paris on the battlefield and he told me the truth: that you fell in love with him in Sparta; that you came to Troy not as a captive but of your own free will. Is that true, Helen?’
Menelaus’s tone was threatening, and yet there was doubt in it, too. And hope.
Helen looked down at the bloodstained furs.
‘Why dwell on the events of a decade ago? The only thing that matters is here and now.’
‘No! Our lives are founded in the past. If you betrayed me then you can do it again, and I would rather kill you now than have that.’
Helen paused, then raised her eyes to his, fixing his gaze.
‘I never loved Paris,’ she lied. Her features were firm, but Odysseus saw the glint of a tear in the corner of her eye. ‘I never loved him, Menelaus. He took me from you against my will, brought me here and forced me to marry him. I would never have left my children, or you, for another.’
‘Yet you came to love him,’ Menelaus countered. ‘You shared his bed willingly, happily. You were lovers.’
Helen’s tears were flowing now and as her eyes flickered towards Odysseus he saw shame in them, knowing he knew she was lying.
‘I never loved him,’ she sobbed. ‘His touch repulsed me, and though he forced himself upon me I never gave myself willingly.’
‘I don’t believe you,’ Menelaus insisted. ‘You enjoyed being mounted by him!’
There was no conviction in his words now. The last of his anger was submitting to his desire for her, a desire that revealed itself by his talk of Paris and Helen’s lovemaking. Helen must have realised this and seen that the contest was entering a realm where she had the dominant power. She took a few paces towards him and fell to her knees.
‘My body has always been yours, Menelaus,’ she said, seizing the front of her chiton and tearing it open, ‘and it will be yours again.’
A splintering crash came from somewhere within the depths of the palace, followed by a woman’s scream. Menelaus glanced over his shoulder, then back down at Helen. The sight of her perfect face and her bared breasts were almost enough for him. And yet he still refused to surrender to his need for her.
‘Swear it, Helen. Swear by the name of Aphrodite that you never loved Paris. Swear he took you from our home against your will.’ With a swift movement, he pulled a dagger from his belt and held the point to her throat. ‘Swear it, or by Ares’s sword I will slice your beautiful head from your shoulders and throw it into the flames of Troy!’
‘Menelaus, give me the dagger.’ Odysseus’s sword was pressed against the Spartan’s ribs. ‘Helen saw through my disguise when I came to steal the Palladium, but she didn’t betray me to the Trojans. She even drugged the temple guards and showed me a way to leave the city unnoticed. Without her Troy would never have fallen, and if that doesn’t convince you of her loyalty to you then I don’t know what will. But I also owe her my life, and if you don’t take that blade from her throat then I’ll run you through. Do you understand me?’
‘All I want is her oath, sworn in the name of Aphrodite,’ Menelaus hissed, without removing his eyes from Helen or his dagger from her neck.
More screams came from the corridors behind them. Then Helen spoke, with her eyes closed and her voice trembling.
‘I swear it, Menelaus. As Aphrodite is my witness, I never loved anyone but you.’
Menelaus withdrew the blade and tossed it into a corner of the room. Dropping to his knees, he wrapped his arms around his wife and drew her clumsily into his chest. He pressed his face into her hair, the tears falling heavily from his eyes again as he breathed in lungfuls of her perfume.
‘Then you’re mine again, at last, and this cursed war is truly over. Let’s find Pleisthenes and go home. To Sparta.’
Chapter Forty
LOVE AND VENGEANCE
The streets of Pergamos were confusing in a night without moon or stars, lit only by the reflected orange glow from the fires that were springing up in the lower city, but it was not long before Eperitus found himself emerging from the shadows opposite the temple of Apollo. His father’s two-storeyed house was beside it, and after a quick glance at the dark doorways and windows of the surrounding buildings, Eperitus crossed to the modest portico with its twin columns standing like sentinels, one on either side.
His heart beat faster as he laid his palms against the wooden doors and paused. For a whole night and day in the cramped discomfort of the wooden horse he had pondered this moment and what he would do when it came. Sitting on the hard bench with his head in his hands, he had thought about Astynome and all they had been through together. Despite her betrayal, he knew she loved him and that he still loved her. That was something worth fighting for, something much greater than the cold, selfish motivations of glory that had given his life meaning before. It was why Odysseus had let him go. The king knew the value of love, and that Eperitus would need to protect Astynome from the army of vengeful Greeks that would soon be rampaging through the citadel.
But if Eperitus wanted nothing more than to sail back with Astynome to Ithaca, where Agamemnon, Apheidas and the walls of Troy would never be able to separate them again, he knew that even then he could not find satisfaction until he had faced his father for one last time. Unlike his lust for glory, he could not
so quickly abandon his need for revenge. Apheidas had caused too much destruction in his life for him to simply turn his back and walk away. What was more, if he was to enjoy the future in peace with Astynome he had first to rid himself of the shadow of his past. He was sure Odysseus had known that, too.
He leaned his weight against the wooden doors, which were unbarred and swung open easily. Inside was the main hall, dark but for the red glow of the fire that seemed to pulsate like a heart at its centre. Eperitus shut the doors quietly behind him and waited, letting his supernatural senses expand into the cavernous black chamber. The light from the hearth did not reach beyond the four pillars that surrounded it, but his keen eyes could pick out the erect shapes of several chairs, a number of long tables pushed against the walls, and the faded outlines of the murals on the plaster above them. Through the smell of burning wood and ashes, he could discern the lingering aromas of bread, roast meat and wine from an earlier meal, mingling with other smells from deeper within the house. The air in the hall was still, other than the slight updraft as the smoke from the hearth was drawn through the hole in the apex of the ceiling, and the only sounds were the crackle of the fire and the creaking of wooden beams as they settled in the cooler night air. And the faint, restrained breathing of the other person in the room.
Eperitus drew his sword.
‘Come out of the shadows,’ he ordered, speaking in the Trojan tongue.
A figure rose up from one of the chairs against the wall to his left and walked towards him.
‘Eperitus!’
Astynome’s black hair was tied up behind her head and even in the faint light from the hearth Eperitus was able to recognise the familiar features of the face he loved so much. Slipping his sword back into its sheath, he moved forward and welcomed her into his arms. She brushed her cheek against his, then sank her head upon his shoulder, as if weary from their time apart. He raised a hand to her nape and pushed his fingertips into her hairline, enjoying the warmth of her skin and the softness of her hair. There was a clean, fresh aroma about her that sent his mind back to the times they had shared a bed, long before any darkness had come between them.
She looked up at him with her large, brown eyes, and he responded by pressing his lips to hers.
‘I expected to have to find you and wake you,’ he said.
‘I knew you were coming,’ she replied, indicating the cloak she was wearing. ‘The night you stole the Palladium, Odysseus told me that if a wooden horse entered Troy the war would end and I would be reunited with you. I didn’t understand at the time, and even less so when I saw that wheeled monster being dragged towards the city – I think the gods confounded us all so we wouldn’t guess its true purpose – but when Cassandra spoke I realised there were men hidden inside the horse. And I knew you were one of them.’
‘We’d all be dead if you hadn’t spoken up against her.’
She shrugged. ‘Well, here you are. What happens now?’
‘The army should have sailed into the bay under cover of darkness. Even as we speak the Scaean Gate is being opened to let them in. It’s the end of the war, Astynome, and the end of Troy. Agamemnon won’t suffer anything of the city to remain, or its people.’
‘It was inevitable,’ Astynome said, shaking her head. ‘Troy could not stand forever, not against the will of Zeus. And yet I wish it didn’t have to end like this, with such ignominy – a great city murdered in its sleep.’
‘There was no other way, but at least it means we can be together again. That’s why I’m here – to keep you safe until it’s all over, then take you back with me to Ithaca. If you still want to come?’
Astynome smiled. ‘Of course I do. My life’s nothing without you, Eperitus. But you’re not just here for me, are you.’
‘I gave Palamedes my word I would keep Clymene safe if Troy was ever sacked.’
‘I mean Apheidas.’
Eperitus held her face and tenderly brushed her cheeks with his thumbs.
‘I can’t leave without avenging his crimes.’
‘Honour and vengeance! The two things that have kept men killing each other since the creation of the world.’
‘You forget love.’
‘At least love can also stay a man’s hand!’ Astynome retorted. Then her eyes softened again and she glanced down at his armoured chest. ‘Clymene’s already in her room waiting – I told her to be ready to flee the city – but must you risk everything to face Apheidas? I know when you were his prisoner I said I would help you take your revenge, but now I’m not so certain. Does killing a man really solve anything? Will murdering your own father right the wrongs he has committed? It seems to me the best way to defeat Apheidas is to be everything he is not, to be loving where he is hateful, to be selfless where he is ambitious. And that’s the kind of man you are, Eperitus – it’s why I fell in love with you. But if you seek him out and avenge his crimes in blood, you’re taking the path he would take. Instead of defeating him, you’ll become him. If you want to be free of his shadow, then leave him to his fate and walk away from this place.’
Her words were sacrilege to a warrior, whose code demanded that the merest slight had to be avenged in blood. And yet they held a challenge he could not ignore. Did he want to kill his father and inherit his legacy of hatred? Or could he turn away, even now when revenge was finally within his grasp, and take a different path?
‘A woman wouldn’t understand,’ said another voice from the shadows on the opposite side of the hall. ‘A man who runs from his responsibilities is only half a man, doomed to live life with his head hung low and his spirit in shadow. Isn’t that so, Son?’
Eperitus spun round to see a man and a woman step into the circle of firelight. The tall figure of his father was unmistakable. He carried a spear in one hand and a shield in the other, and the red glow from the embers played menacingly on his scaled cuirass. It took a moment longer to recognise the woman as Clymene, her shoulders stooped and her chin on her chest. Eperitus slipped his grandfather’s shield from his back and took its weight on his left arm, while slowly drawing his sword from its sheath. It seemed his decision had been made for him.
‘Father,’ he said. ‘At least you’ve saved me the trouble of looking for you.’
‘And I thought Astynome might have talked you into running away. But what were you planning, Son? A knife in my sleep? That seems to be the Greek way of doing things.’
‘No, you can be sure I’d have woken you first. I wouldn’t want your ghost to slip off to Hades without knowing who it was that took your life.’
‘Ah, that must be the Trojan in you, Son.’
Eperitus spat. ‘I’ve rejected that part of my inheritance, just like my grandfather did when he made Greece his home. It’s a shame you didn’t follow his example.’
‘And become a skulking coward, sneaking into cities hidden inside a wooden horse?’
Eperitus raised an eyebrow.
‘If you knew, why didn’t you burn it when you had the chance?’
‘I didn’t know,’ Apheidas admitted with a shrug. ‘I suspected something was amiss with the horse, but when Cassandra started screaming that there were men inside the idea of it seemed ridiculous. And that was the work of the gods, I’m sure of it. Then, after the celebrations were over, Clymene here woke me to say that Astynome was planning to flee, and when I looked out my window I could see flames in the lower city and hear cries. That was when the truth became clear to me.’
‘Clymene!’ Astynome said, her tone both accusative and dismayed. ‘How could you betray me? I was trying to help you.’
Clymene raised her pained face to look at her friend.
‘I’m sorry, Astynome, but Apheidas is my master and the Greeks are our enemies. When you said we needed to get out of the city before it was too late, I knew it meant they were coming. But I don’t want them to come! They murdered my son in cold blood, and if I can do anything to save Troy from them then I will. And I have.’
‘You silly
woman!’ Astynome replied. ‘Troy is doomed, and you’ve thrown away your only hope of escape.’
‘And you think you’re just going to walk out of the city unscathed?’ Apheidas mocked. ‘At least Clymene has shown loyalty, whereas you will die a traitor!’
Eperitus moved Astynome behind him and walked towards the hearth.
‘No-one is going to die except you, Father.’
‘So you think. I overheard you’d sworn to protect Clymene, but merely taking an oath doesn’t mean it’s going to be fulfilled. Let me demonstrate.’
Apheidas turned towards Clymene and with a quick thrust pushed the point of his spear through her chest and out her back. Astynome sprang forward with a cry of protest, but Clymene was already dead, her body toppling back into the hearth. The flames leapt up to welcome her and a blaze of orange light illuminated her laughing murderer.
‘See, Eperitus? There’s one oath you’ll never be able to fulfil. Now, let’s see whether you can keep your other promise – to kill me.’
Apheidas tossed the spear up and caught it with his upturned hand. In the same movement, he pulled it back and hurled it at his son. It split the air with a hiss, passing a finger’s breadth to the right of Eperitus’s neck.
‘Get back, Astynome!’ Eperitus shouted. ‘Get back now!’
He ran at his father and hewed the air where a moment before he had been standing, but the older man had already judged the fall of the weapon and jumped back into the shadows. Drawing his own sword, he leant forward on his front foot and drove the point at his son’s exposed midriff. Eperitus turned and blocked the thrust with his shield, following the movement with an arcing sweep of his blade. Apheidas slipped behind a pillar and the bronze edge drew sparks as it bit into the stone.