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

The debate was easily won, with Agamemnon and Nestor’s doubts overruled by the sheer enthusiasm of Menelaus, Neoptolemus, Diomedes and many others. In the days that followed, Epeius – the most gifted craftsman in the army – oversaw the building of the wooden horse while the rest of the Greeks threw themselves into making the fleet seaworthy again. All passage into or out of the camp was halted, to prevent spies informing the Trojans of what was happening. Finally, two days after the horse was finished, the winds sprang up again and the rest of Odysseus’s scheme was put into motion. The camp was packed up in a hurry, and whatever could not be stowed aboard the hundreds of galleys was burnt. Meanwhile, the gates and part of the surrounding walls had been knocked down and the colossal horse wheeled out onto the plain. Under the command of Agamemnon and Nestor, the fleet then sailed the short distance to Tenedos and hid itself on the western flank of the island where it would not be seen from the shore. After nightfall, Omeros was left alone in the remains of the camp – waiting to be found by the Trojans the next morning – while teams of oxen had dragged the wooden horse to the ridge overlooking the Scamander. Here the beasts had been set free and the picked band of warriors had climbed up into the horse, their armour shrouded in cloth to stop it gleaming in the darkness or clanking inadvertently. Epeius came last, drawing the rope ladder up behind him. Though a renowned coward, he was included in the party because he was the only man who knew how to open or close the trap door, which he had designed to be invisible from the outside. The door shut with a click, and the longest day of Eperitus’s life began.

It had been a day filled with discomfort, stiffness and boredom, sliced through by moments of intense fear and anxiety. Dawn had seen the arrival of Apheidas and Aeneas, and Eperitus’s urge to leap out and face his father had only been checked by his self-discipline and the inner knowledge the night would bring other opportunities for revenge. Menelaus had been less restrained when Deiphobus had arrived with Helen in his chariot. He had not seen his wife so close in ten years and her beauty had lost none of its allure, but the sight of her with her new husband had him clawing at the hatch to get out. It had taken all the strength of Neoptolemus, Idomeneus and Diomedes to hold him down and keep him quiet.

But perhaps their greatest fear had come with the appearance of Cassandra, shrieking madly and calling for the horse to be burned. Eperitus had gripped the handle of his sword – there was no room for their spears within the belly of the horse – expecting to have to jump out and fight the throng of Trojans below. Then Astynome, his beloved Astynome, had stepped from the crowd and spoken out against the black-clad daughter of Priam, casting doubt upon her words of doom until the arrival of Omeros finally convinced the Trojans to accept the horse. After that, the towering effigy had been dragged across the fords and into the city through a breach the Trojans had made in their own wall. While Cassandra had walked alongside the horse, shouting in a strained voice that it was full of Greeks, the Trojan women laid a carpet of flowers in its path and the Trojan men sang songs of victory. And as evening approached and Troy was consumed with darkness, the people feasted and drank, letting the wine erase the memory of the hardships they had suffered as they danced arm in arm, circling the horse and trailing through the streets in long human chains until, eventually, drunkenness and exhausted sleep had taken them.

A curse in the darkness woke Eperitus from his thoughts.

‘Damn this waiting! Where’s Omeros? He should have been here by now.’

Odysseus opened an eye and turned it towards the source of the outburst.

‘Keep your voice down, Epeius.’

‘No I won’t! I’ve had enough of being crammed inside this horse with no room to stand or stretch my legs –’

‘Then perhaps you should have made it bigger,’ Little Ajax growled.

‘It’s alright for a dwarf like you,’ Epeius snapped. ‘I’m twice your height and I’ve spent a day and a night with my knees tucked up under my chin. I want to get out before I go mad!’

Little Ajax gave a snarl and rose from the bench, but Eperitus placed a hand on his shoulder and pulled him back down. Odysseus leaned across and faced Epeius.

‘We’ll be out soon enough. Have patience.’

‘What if Omeros has been found out?’ Epeius asked. ‘What if he’s locked in some Trojan dungeon, or if he’s already had his throat cut?’

Odysseus smiled at him. ‘If he’d been found out, d’you think we’d still be waiting here in the darkness? They’d have made a burning pyre of us long before now. Besides, you should have some faith in the lad. You saw how he dealt with Priam earlier, convincing the old king that we wanted the Trojans to set the horse ablaze. Do you think that was an easy trick to pull off?’

Epeius shook his head. ‘I suppose not.’

‘Of course it wasn’t! He’s a born storyteller and he’s got a level head – that’s why I chose him for the task. And when he judges the time is right, he’ll go up to the walls and set a torch on the parapet for the fleet to see. Once that’s done, he’ll come straight here and give us the signal to climb out.’

‘He’d better not get himself caught,’ Menestheus, the Athenian king, said.

‘He won’t,’ Eperitus answered. He turned to the others, who were fully awake by now and leaning forward on their knees. ‘It’s Agamemnon I’m concerned about. It won’t be easy sailing into the harbour at night and disembarking the army in complete darkness.’

There was a murmur of agreement.

‘My brother’ll be here on time,’ Menelaus assured them, curtly. ‘He may not have liked your plan, Odysseus, but he won’t let us down.’

‘Quiet!’ Eperitus hissed in a whisper. ‘Someone’s coming.’

Silence fell as the warriors listened intently for what Eperitus’s hearing had already picked up. Their eyes were pale orbs in the darkness as they exchanged tense glances. Then they heard it: the sound of voices – one male, one female – approaching the horse.

Eperitus twisted on the bench. Behind him was one of the holes that Epeius had drilled in the wood to keep the horse’s occupants from suffocating. He pressed an eye to the small aperture and looked out on the scene below. The horse had been hauled halfway up the main thoroughfare from the Scaean Gate to Pergamos, and left at a broadening in the road where busy markets must once have been held in times of peace. Since Eperitus had last looked out in the late afternoon, the wide square had been cleared of the tents where hundreds of allied warriors had been bivouacked and a large, circular fire had been built by the wheeled hooves of the great horse, the embers of which still glowed hot and sent trails of smoke up into the night air. Around it were scores of feasting tables and long, low benches, many of which were lying overturned. The remaining tables were piled up with wooden platters – some empty and others still half-filled with staling food – and countless kraters and goblets. The ground in-between was littered with food, broken cups, items of clothing and even a few shoes – not to mention countless sleeping bodies – so that it looked more like the aftermath of a battle than a feast. Picking their way through all this as they walked down from the gates of the citadel were a man and a woman, followed by four female slaves. The man was tall and richly dressed in a pale, knee-length tunic and black double cloak, fastened at his left shoulder by a gleaming brooch. The woman was almost as tall and leaned unsteadily against the man’s arm as they approached the horse. She wore a white chiton and her black hair lay in long, curling fronds across her shoulders.