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

‘One day soon,’ he had warned, ‘a wooden horse will appear within clear sight of the city walls. Some will welcome it, but others will call for its destruction. Don’t let them succeed, Astynome! By whatever means you can, make sure the horse is preserved. If it’s brought inside the city walls, the war will end and you will be reunited with Eperitus; if it’s destroyed, you will never see him again.’

She had not understood the meaning of his words at the time, only their urgency. And as she pondered them again they did not seem to suggest an ignominious defeat and a return to Greece, and that gave her heart. But one thing was now clear: as she heard Cassandra’s call for the horse to be burned she knew what Odysseus had wanted her to do, and that both he and Eperitus were relying on her. Leaving the crowd she had followed from the city, she walked up to the horse and laid a hand on one of its oversized wheels.

‘Cassandra lies. This is no herald of doom, but a gift from the Greeks acknowledging our victory. It should stand forever as a monument to the glory of those who fought for Troy, so that generations to come can look at it and speak their names with pride. Burn it and you will diminish their honour! Indeed, burn it and you will bring a curse down on the city.’

Hundreds of voices were raised in agreement, but Cassandra cut them short with an angry scream.

‘This is madness! Will you invite your own deaths? I tell you, this horse will not become a monument to the sacrifices of the fallen – rather, it will render their sacrifices worthless!’

Her words were met with jeers and calls for her to be silent.

‘Why should we listen to you?’ Astynome countered. ‘You’re nothing but a storm crow, Cassandra, always wailing about the destruction of Troy and the death of its people. But we’re still here, aren’t we? The walls of Troy still stand and its warriors still man the battlements, don’t they? Why should anyone believe you?’

‘Because you have to!’ Cassandra pleaded. ‘Father, listen to me, I implore you! This thing reeks of death. If its shadow falls within the walls of Troy, then your city and everything in it will be destroyed.’

Priam looked at her with uncertainty in his eyes, but the taunts and insults from the crowd behind her grew louder. Cassandra turned on them in frustration, and seeing a soldier among her mockers ran at him and wrenched the spear from his surprised hands. The crowd fell back, shouting now with fear as they saw the dangerous rage in her dark eyes.

‘Damn you all!’ she cried, then turned on her heel and hurled the spear at the horse’s side.

It struck with a hollow thud, and in that instant it seemed to many that they heard a second sound, a movement from within the body of the horse itself. The clamour of the crowd fell away and in the silence that followed everyone looked up at the spear, still quivering from the impact of the blow. Astynome looked up, too, wondering whether she had indeed heard a metallic clang from inside the wooden effigy, or whether she had simply imagined it. Then the stillness was broken by a series of shouts. All eyes looked to the south, where a group of horsemen were racing across the plain towards them. Their distinctive armour marked them out as Trojans, and at their head was the unmistakeable figure of Aeneas. Moments later they drew to a halt amid a cloud of brown dust that billowed forward to float around the hocks of the wooden horse. Aeneas leapt lightly from the back of his mount and, walking to the nearest of his riders, seized the bound and gagged man who had shared his horse and pulled him to the ground. The prisoner fell with a muffled grunt, but Aeneas dragged him back to his feet and pushed him towards Priam and Apheidas.

‘My lord,’ Aeneas began, acknowledging Priam with a low bow. ‘Congratulations on your great victory. The Greek fleet has sailed and we found their camp completely deserted. All except for this man.’

Priam stared at the dishevelled figure. His face was half hidden behind the filthy rag that had been tied about his mouth, but the blood and bruises on his dirt-stained cheeks and forehead were clear to see. The man fixed his eyes firmly on the grass at Priam’s feet, either too fearful or too stubborn to look at the old king.

‘Who is he?’

‘He refused to say, my lord.’

A flicker of impatience crossed Priam’s face. ‘Then did you and your men give him this beating?’

‘No. He’s exactly as when we found him, hiding in the ruins of one of the huts. Though we had to bind him so he wouldn’t try to escape.’

Priam flicked his hand at the gag, which Aeneas hastily removed. As the strip of cloth fell to the ground, Astynome almost cried out in shock. The prisoner was the young Ithacan, Omeros.

‘What’s your name, lad?’ Priam asked, addressing him in Greek.

Omeros did not respond.

‘Answer the king!’ Apheidas snapped, impatiently.

Omeros lifted his gaze to Priam’s knees and opened his cracked and blooded lips.

‘Omeros,’ he rasped. ‘An Ithacan.’

‘One of Odysseus’s men,’ Apheidas said, leaning in towards Priam.

Priam ignored the obvious comment and told Idaeus to give the prisoner water. The herald did as he was commanded and Omeros drank the cooling liquid greedily.

‘Where is the Greek fleet?’ Priam demanded.

Again Omeros was reluctant to answer, provoking Apheidas to strike him across the face with the back of his hand. The blow reopened one of his cuts and left a fresh smear of bright red on his dirt-stained cheek.

‘They’ve had enough. Gone home.’

‘Just like that? After ten years of war?’ Apheidas sneered. ‘I’m sure that’s what you’d like us to believe.’

Omeros merely shrugged and continued to stare at the ground.

‘Why would they leave after all this time?’ Priam asked. ‘They stole the Palladium, the very thing that protected Troy for all these years – so why go now?’

Omeros shot an uncertain glance at Apheidas, then looked at Priam.

‘Stealing the Palladium was the very thing that condemned them. They thought it’d bring them victory, but all it did was earn them Athena’s wrath. They realised that when they tried to storm the walls and were repulsed again, just like in every previous attack over the past ten years. And if that wasn’t evidence enough, the Palladium burst into flames three times – you don’t have to be a seer to know that’s a bad omen!’

‘So where’s the Palladium now?’

Omeros looked up at the horse.

‘Up there. Inside the horse’s head. Once they’d accepted they could no longer win the war, they built this thing to appease Athena and seek her blessing for the voyage home. No-one dared take the Palladium back to Greece with them, and they didn’t want you to find it; so they hid it.’

Apheidas’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

‘Why would you tell us that? In fact, why would Odysseus sail home to Ithaca leaving one of his men to be taken prisoner?’

‘Because I’m no longer one of his men!’ Omeros answered, angrily. He pulled at the rope that bound his hands behind his back, but to no avail. ‘Damn it, if you’re going to question me all day, at least take these bonds from my wrists.’

Priam nodded at Aeneas, who drew his dagger and slit the flax cord. Omeros shook his hands then rubbed them together, trying to encourage the blood to return to his veins. After a moment, he looked up at his Trojan interrogators and there was an embittered look in his eye.

‘A while ago, I found out Odysseus had planted gold in Palamedes’s tent, to implicate him as a traitor. They killed Palamedes for it, and ever since Odysseus has been afraid I might give away his dirty secret. So when the winds refused to blow and Calchas declared the fleet couldn’t sail until the gods had been appeased with human blood, Odysseus saw his opportunity. He asked Calchas who had to die, and the old drunkard pointed at me – doubtless bribed beforehand by Odysseus. The Greeks dragged the horse at night to the top of the ridge where you found it this morning, then prepared to sacrifice me at dawn. They had to subdue me first – that’s how I got these,’ he indicated the cuts and bruises on his face, ‘but before the sacrifice could begin, a gale sprang up and everyone ran for the ships. I escaped in the chaos as they torched the tents and huts and pushed the galleys out into the sea. Then I watched them sail away by the first light of dawn, following the coastline southward with the wind behind them.’