Glyn Iliffe - The Oracles of Troy (The Adventures of Odysseus)

‘Is that it?’ asked Diomedes.

Odysseus raised his head and fixed his eyes on the Palladium.

‘It must be.’

Diomedes advanced towards it with his torch raised at an angle before him. Odysseus followed, but Eperitus gripped his spear and stole a glance at the rear of the temple. His hackles were up and he had a sense of foreboding, but he could see or hear nothing in the darkness. Reluctantly, he turned and joined the others.

Eperitus had first heard a description of the Palladium from Antenor, the Trojan elder whose wife was the chief priestess of the temple. He had been their host before the war, when Eperitus had accompanied Odysseus and Menelaus on a peace embassy to seek the return of Helen. But even Antenor’s matter-of-fact account had overstated the dull ordinariness of the object they had come to steal. Had it not been placed on the plinth that supported the statue of Athena, it would have reached no higher than Eperitus’s thigh. As for form, as far as Eperitus could see it barely had any: there were two uneven bumps in the black wood that might have been breasts, while the lopsided knob on top could have optimistically passed as a head – devoid of neck and with nothing more than a misshapen nose for a facial feature. Two stumps on either side qualified as arms, and with no legs whatsoever its only support was the metal cradle on which it was sat.

‘It’s even less impressive than I’d expected,’ he commented.

‘And the Trojans think this came from the gods?’ Diomedes added. ‘Such fools deserve to lose the war.’

Odysseus undid the green cloak Helen had given him.

‘We’ll be the fools if they catch us talking here. Let’s take the thing and get back to the walls – this place is making me feel uneasy.’

He threw the cloak around the Palladium, as if afraid to touch it with his bare hands, and lifted it from its stand. With deft movements, he knotted the corners of the garment together and slung the parcel under his arm. Just then, Eperitus’s senses reacted to a presence. Whether a small sound or a new smell, he was not aware of the trigger that told him they were no longer alone, but he spun round with his spear held rigidly before him. The others turned in alarm, knowing Eperitus’s instincts were never wrong, and snatched out their swords.

‘How dare you desecrate this temple?’

It was a woman’s voice, speaking in the Trojan tongue, that broke the silence. Eperitus’s eyes picked out the diminutive figure of its owner in a corner of the vast chamber, dressed in the white robes of a priestess. She must have been sleeping in the temple, as many priestesses did, and been woken by their voices. Now she was approaching the three warriors with short, fearless steps that quickly brought her into the circle of light from their torches.

‘Don’t you know what that is ? Put it back at once. At once!’

She was an old woman, but she had such confidence in the power of her own authority that she had not even thought to shout for the guards. Either that, or she was too shocked by their sacrilege to do anything other than follow her own outrage. She advanced again, pointing at the bag under Odysseus’s arm and spluttering angrily for him to give it to her. Then her eyes fell on his face and she stopped.

‘Who are you?’ she demanded, narrowing her eyes. ‘I know your face. Who’s your commander?’

‘If I have a commander,’ Odysseus answered in her own language, ‘it’s Agamemnon, king of Mycenae.’

‘Greeks!’ the priestess exclaimed, throwing her hands up to her cheeks. ‘How did you …? By all the gods, I must call the guards.’

The point of Odysseus’s sword was at her throat in an instant.

‘You’ll say nothing, Theano. Yes, I know you and you know me. I am Odysseus, king of Ithaca. These are my comrades, Diomedes of Argos and Eperitus, captain of my guard. Eperitus and I were guests of your husband before the war started.’

‘Yes, I remember you now. You were welcome then, especially by Antenor, who has always loved the Greeks. For his sake, I would gladly let you return by whatever way you came into our sacred city, even giving you my sworn oath not to raise the alarm until you were far enough away. Though not with the effigy you have under your arm, Odysseus, not even under the threat of death. Athena is my mistress and the Palladium is sacred to her; if you try to take it I promise you my dying scream will awake the guards outside.’

‘The guards are all dead,’ Odysseus lied. ‘I have no wish that you should join them, but if you try to prevent me taking the Palladium I will not hesitate to cut open your throat. Am I clear? Now, promise me your silence while we escape and I’ll let you live. Make your choice, Theano.’

He raised the point of the blade a fraction so that it pressed against the soft flesh beneath the old woman’s chin, causing her to draw breath sharply. The next moment, the weapon fell from Odysseus’s hand with a loud clang and he stepped back, clutching his hand beneath his armpit and wincing with pain. Eperitus and Diomedes looked at him in confusion, then down at the sword on the flagstones. It was glowing red.

Something else had changed. Sensing danger, Eperitus stepped back and lowered the head of his spear towards the old woman. By now she was standing rigid with her shoulders pulled back and her fingers splayed at her sides. Bright, silvery light was spilling from her eyes and nostrils, filling Eperitus with terror and forcing him to retreat. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Diomedes’s face, his eyes wide with disbelief and shock as he raised his sword over his head and made to bring it down on the priestess. Before the edged metal could touch her, it burst into flames and leapt from the Argive king’s hand to skitter across the floor in blazing circles.

Odysseus and Eperitus dropped their torches and fell back to the plinth where the great statue of Athena stood. Theano had stopped shaking now, but the light continued to pour from her eyes and nostrils so that the three men could only glance at her from behind their raised hands.

‘You know me, Odysseus,’ she said, light streaming from her mouth. But it was no longer the voice of Theano that spoke now. It was the goddess herself. ‘Have I ever failed you or betrayed your trust in me?’

Athena’s anger sent tremors through the floor beneath their feet, and led by Odysseus the warriors fell to their knees before her.

‘And is this how you repay my help? To steal the image of Pallas, my friend, in whose beloved memory it was created?’

Eperitus gave a sidelong glance at the king. Odysseus’s head was hung low, not daring to look at the goddess, but Eperitus could see the guilt and anguish written on his face.

‘I command you to return the statue to its rightful place. If you love and honour me – indeed, if you value my continued patronage and protection, Odysseus – you will do my bidding.’

Odysseus closed his eyes tightly and drew back his lips in an agony of indecision. But the effigy remained beneath his arm, wrapped in the cloak.

‘ Answer me !’

‘I cannot, Mistress. I mean, I cannot return the Palladium.’

There was a moment of silence, filled only by the hiss and splutter of the torches. Then Athena spoke again, this time her voice calmer and more gentle.

‘Odysseus, my child. I have watched you and loved you all your life – few mortals have been as precious to me as you are. However, if you leave this temple with the effigy of my friend, that is an affront that I cannot permit to go unpunished. You know that.’

‘My orders come from Agamemnon, my lady, to fulfil an oracle given to us by Helenus. He said that Troy will not fall as long as the Palladium remains in the city.’