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

She smiled playfully, surprising him. ‘Do you think it’ll bite me?’

‘I mean it could be a lure – the bait to draw us into a trap.’

‘Am I any more important than Priam? If the king is going, then surely it’s safe enough for me to go too? Besides, there’s already a troop of cavalry up there – they would have spotted any immediate danger.’ Seeing the doubt in his eyes, she leaned across and kissed him. ‘I promise I’ll stay close to you.’

His gaze wandered over her again. Although she had not received the usual attentions of her maids that morning, her natural beauty was more than powerful enough to break down his resistance. He nodded and helped her up into the chariot.

By the time Priam’s chariot trundled out of the Scaean Gate, followed by two dozen cavalrymen and a collection of other chariots bearing his eldest sons and the commanders of his army, ropes had already been lashed around the hind legs of the wooden horse and hundreds of men were easing it carefully down the slope towards the flat plain before the ford. Here, scores of logs were being laid across the river bed so that the great beast could be pulled across as quickly and safely as possible. The royal procession passed either side of the wooden carpet, sending up sprays of water that shone in the morning sunlight. Helen, who was so rarely permitted beyond the city walls, was revelling in the feel of the unfettered wind on her face and the sense of openness all about her. It was a hint of the freedom she would enjoy if the war ended, and in her heart she called out to Aphrodite to lead one side or the other to victory soon. She cared little whether it was the Greeks or the Trojans, so long as it allowed her to escape the claustrophobia of city life and gain the liberty she had been denied for ten years.

As they crossed the wide meadows that were still bruised and trampled from the battles of the early summer, a series of commands echoed over the plain and the men on the ropes eased the great horse to a halt. It had reached level ground and would need to be pulled the rest of the way to the ford, but the officer in charge had seen the approaching chariots and ordered his teams to rest and regain their strength. As they came closer, Helen saw that the mounted officer was Apheidas.

‘My lord,’ he said, dipping his head a little as Priam’s chariot pulled up.

The king stepped down and walked past Apheidas towards the wooden horse, stopping a few paces short of the towering structure. The other chariots clattered to a halt and the cavalry formed a crescent behind them, while the assortment of princes and nobles dismounted and gathered behind Priam, their mouths open and eyes staring up in bewilderment and wonder. Deiphobus took Helen’s hand and shouldered his way through the others to stand at his father’s side.

‘What in Zeus’s name is it?’ Priam asked.

Apheidas nodded towards the opposite flank of the horse.

‘There’s an inscription.’

Priam moved in a wide circle to the other side of the structure, as if afraid to come too close to it. At the same time he held the palm of his hand up to the others, forbidding them to follow. Helen watched him as he fell beneath the long shadow of the horse on the western side, his old eyes narrowing as they searched for the inscription, found it and struggled to read what it said.

‘It’s in Greek,’ he announced with a hint of frustration. ‘I can speak the damned language, to a degree, but it’s a long time since I’ve read it. Helen, come here girl and decipher it for me.’

‘Go on,’ Deiphobus urged, sensing her reluctance. He released her hand and nudged her in the back. ‘It won’t bite you.’

Helen passed under the high head of the horse, not daring to take her eyes from it as she crossed to stand beside Priam. The inscription was carved in sizeable letters from the front shoulder to the hind leg. Silently, she mouthed the words to herself as she read the once-familiar characters of her mother tongue. Then their meaning became clear and she felt a cold chill brush down her spine. She glanced at Apheidas, the only other person present who had read the words and understood them. His expression was inscrutable.

‘What does it say ?’ Priam urged. ‘Read it out.’

Helen read it in Greek first, then translated into the Trojan tongue.

‘A gift from the Greeks to the goddess Athena, dedicated in grateful anticipation of a safe journey home.’

She felt Priam’s hand take her elbow, his bony fingers gripping the flesh tightly for support. Reacting quickly, she put her arm about his waist and bore his weight as he slumped against her. Nobody seemed to notice. Eyes that had been staring in awe at the wooden horse were now frozen with doubt, understanding the words of the inscription but unable to accept what they implied.

‘Then is it over?’ Priam asked in a frail voice.

Helen took his hand in hers and squeezed it.

‘I don’t know.’

Deiphobus wiped his palm over his face and staggered across the grass to stand beside his wife. He looked at the carved words, reassured himself that Helen had not lied, and allowed a smile to touch the corners of his mouth.

‘They’ve gone home. The Greeks have given up.’ Turning to the teams of men sitting by their ropes, he raised his arms in the air and lifted his face to the heavens. ‘Praise the gods, we’ve won !’

Slowly, the lines of soldiers climbed to their feet and stared at the horse. A single voice cheered. Others joined it, then more, until the morning air was filled with their shouting. The crowd of princes and nobles followed with wild cries of jubilation, forgetting the differences in their ranks and openly embracing each other. A handful of cavalrymen defied discipline and galloped off in the direction of the Scaean Gate, yelling with joy as they went to spread the news to the city. Helen laid her hand on her chest, which was rising and falling rapidly. She could hardly believe it. A feeling of elation flooded through her body and again she felt the shock of what it meant chilling her flesh and bringing her skin out in goosebumps. Then her gaze fell on Deiphobus and the knowledge that she would be his forever checked her excitement, darkening her thoughts and turning her limbs to stone. Now it was Priam’s turn to catch her as the sudden heaviness in her muscles threatened to pull her to the ground.

‘Deiphobus, look to your wife,’ he commanded. Then, as his son passed his arm beneath Helen’s shoulder, the king turned to Apheidas and lowered his voice. ‘Send a patrol to the Greek camp, at once.’

‘Aeneas is already there, my lord. We rode out to inspect this thing at dawn and as soon as we read the inscription he insisted on taking a troop of cavalry to see for himself. He should be returning at any moment.’

‘What about our spies in their camp? Have we heard anything from them?’

‘Nothing for several days, which is strange in itself. They’re mostly slaves, though; if the Greeks really have left, they might have taken our spies with them.’

Priam nodded and turned back to Helen.

‘Can you stand? I’ll have Idaeus take you back to the city in my chariot.’

‘No, thank you Father. I was just … taken aback.’

Helen forced herself upright and stepped free of Deiphobus’s arms. The prince gave her a questioning look, as if guessing her thoughts, but she turned her eyes away and stared up at the horse. At that angle, its blank eyes seemed mocking and its bared teeth appeared to be smiling, laughing even.

‘Father, the war’s over,’ Deiphobus declared. ‘We should parade the horse through the streets of the city, show the people the siege has ended and Troy has won.’