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

Chapter Thirty-seven

T HE G ATE F ALLS

The men inside the horse were quiet for a while, barely able to look each other in the eye. Eperitus glanced at Odysseus, but his chin was on his chest and his gaze firmly fixed on his sandalled feet. Then the silence was broken by a loud rapping on the legs of the horse, which carried up through the wood and was magnified sharply within the small space where the warriors were huddled.

‘My lords! Are you in there?’

Eperitus sighed with relief. It was Omeros.

‘At last,’ said Neoptolemus, slipping his red-plumed, golden helmet onto his head and fastening the cheek guards beneath his chin. ‘I only wish my father were here with me now, to claim the glory that should have been his.’

‘And Great Ajax, too,’ said Teucer, clutching at his bow. The nervous twitch that had once defined him had faded after the death of his half-brother, and now he sat calmly with his face set in a determined stare. ‘He would have relished this moment.’

Odysseus shook his head. ‘Neither would have entered Troy in the belly of a wooden horse. They hated trickery and would only have walked through the gates on a carpet of fallen enemies. But the fact you’re here, Neoptolemus, shows you’ve already surpassed your father’s qualities. Unlike him, you know a war like this can’t be won by strength and honour alone. Now, Epeius, open the door and let’s set about our task.’

Epeius’s cowardly instincts had brought him out in a glistening sweat now the long wait was over, but while the two dozen warriors about him removed the sacking from their armour and made ready for battle, he wiped his brow and probed the wooden floor with his fingers. There was a click and the trap door swung downward on its hinges, flooding the interior of the horse with a red glow from the dying fire below. Eperitus picked up his grandfather’s shield and, swinging it over his back, was first at the hatch. He stared down and saw Omeros looking back up at him.

‘The way’s clear,’ his squire called in a low voice.

Eperitus kicked the rolled-up rope ladder down through the hole and began his descent, jumping the last part and landing beside Omeros. He looked around at the still-sleeping Trojans, draped over or around the feasting tables, then up at the cloudy sky, pressing closely down on the walls and towers of Pergamos further up the slope. His limbs and back were stiff and the soles of his feet tingled as the blood struggled to return to them, but he drove the discomfort from his mind and drew his sword from its scabbard.

A moment later, Odysseus was with them, followed rapidly by Neoptolemus, Menelaus and Diomedes.

‘Is the signal in place?’ Odysseus asked.

‘And can you be sure the fleet saw it?’ Menelaus added.

‘The torch is on the walls, my lords, just as you ordered,’ Omeros replied, ‘but it was too dark to see if there were any ships in the harbour. If they’re there, though, they’ll have seen the signal.’

‘What about guards?’ asked Eperitus. ‘Did you see any patrols?’

‘None. Not a single man – they’re all in a drunken sleep, completely convinced we’ve given up and gone.’

‘You did well,’ Odysseus said, patting Omeros’s shoulder. ‘I couldn’t have done any better myself.’

Eperitus gave his squire a wink and Omeros bowed his head to hide the broad grin on his face.

‘Everybody’s out,’ Diomedes announced. ‘Now it’s time we went about our business. All it needs is one Trojan to wake and give the alarm –’

‘We’ll do everything as I explained before,’ Odysseus said. ‘Diomedes: you, Little Ajax and Idomeneus take half our number down to the Scaean Gate to let the army in. Menelaus, Neoptolemus and I will take the rest and secure the gates to the citadel.’

‘And what about these?’ Little Ajax demanded, sweeping his sword in a menacing arc over the sleeping Trojans. ‘Do you plan to just let them go on sleeping, ready to wake and bear arms against us? I say we cut their throats and rid ourselves of the bastards here and now.’

Eperitus looked at his king, who twice before had cut the throats of groups of sleeping warriors, preferring the opportunity of a defenceless enemy over notions of honour. On one of those occasions, the fate of Ithaca had depended on his actions; on the other he had murdered his victims for the sake of a team of prize horses. This time, though – to Eperitus’s approval – Odysseus shook his head.

‘We only kill those who resist us – the night’s going to be vicious enough without cold-blooded murder. Besides, we haven’t the time to waste. We need to go now.’

Diomedes gave a nod and signalled for Little Ajax, Teucer and the others in his party to follow him. They set off at a trot down the main street, their accoutrements jangling lightly as they headed for the dim outline of the city walls and the tower that guarded the Scaean Gate. Odysseus signalled to Omeros.

‘Go with them, lad, and find Eurybates. Remind him to keep a firm grip on my Ithacans. They’ve had a hard war and even the best of them will be tempted to excess, but I want them to stay disciplined. Now go.’

Omeros set off and Eperitus laid a hand on Odysseus’s shoulder.

‘We need to go, too,’ he urged.

Menelaus was already running up towards Pergamos, closely followed by the others. Only Neoptolemus remained, beckoning with his drawn sword for the two Ithacans to follow. They weaved a path towards him through the sleeping Trojans, then all three ran to catch up with the rest of the party. It was not long before they were approaching the sloping walls of the citadel and the imposing tower that guarded the gates. Menelaus slowed to a halt and crouched in the shadows of a nearby house, signalling for the rest to do the same. Neoptolemus, Odysseus and Eperitus joined him.

‘I’d forgotten how ugly their gods are,’ Menelaus whispered, pointing to the six crude statuettes that stood on plinths before the tower. He turned to Odysseus. ‘You know the city better than the rest of us. Isn’t the gate in the shadows, to the right of the tower?’

Odysseus nodded and looked up at the battlements. There were no figures pacing the walls or faces peering down at them over the parapets. All was silent.

‘They won’t have left it unguarded, not even tonight, but the last thing they’ll be expecting is a dozen fully armed Greeks. I suggest we sling our shields on our backs, sheath our swords and walk into Pergamos.’

Before they could question him, he was moving out of the shadows towards the tower. Not wanting to let his king take the risk alone, Eperitus was the first to follow, with Menelaus, Neoptolemus and the others close behind. Just as Odysseus had predicted, the gates were not unguarded: two men sat on stools to the left of the archway, their spears sloped against their shoulders, while two others stood opposite them, leaning against the wall with their heads bowed sleepily. The wooden gates were held open by two large blocks of stone, and all four guards were quiet, half asleep, only stirring to life as they saw the band of warriors approach.

‘No entry after midnight, brothers. You know that,’ said one of the soldiers, levering himself away from the wall with his elbow. ‘Curfew still applies, even in peacetime.’

He laughed quietly at his own humour, though his laughter quickly died away when he saw the men were not slowing down.

‘I said –’

As one, Odysseus and Eperitus drew their swords, closely followed by Menelaus and Neoptolemus. Eperitus sprang forward, pushing the point of his blade into the first guard’s chest. It sliced through his heart and passed out of his back, causing his legs to buckle and his body to fall backwards, almost pulling Eperitus with him. He placed his weight on his front foot and held on to the hilt, so that the momentum of the dead man’s torso pulled it free of the blade. Scuffles and grunts indicated the demise of the other guards and when Eperitus turned it was to see their bodies lying in pools of their own blood.