The Gates Of Troy (28 page)

‘What are these things – these
secrets
– you speak of?’ Eperitus urged, staring hard into Calchas’s half-crazed eyes. ‘Does Odysseus know?’

‘Your friend is as ignorant of them as you are,’ Calchas reassured him. ‘Go to Agamemnon’s city, Mycenae. One who lives there can reveal the first secret to you. More than that I cannot say.’

With that, the priest turned and slipped back out the way he had come. Eperitus waited for him to leave then returned to his seat, watched by Odysseus.

‘Who was that?’ the king asked. ‘Didn’t I see him in the crowd yesterday?’

‘I’ll tell you about it later,’ Eperitus replied. ‘This must be King Priam.’

At that moment, a large door to the side of the throne opened and two warriors in golden armour entered. They stood either side of the door and bowed their heads as a third man swept past them into the room. King Priam was tall – a head higher than his escorts – and dressed in a richly embroidered tunic and a crimson cloak that dragged along the floor behind him. His hair was a shiny black and his fringe had been carefully plaited in the same fashion as the younger Trojan men; but, though he must have been handsome in his youth, his quick brown eyes were now sunken with age and the skin of his long neck hung in folds beneath his chin. Even the thick layer of orange powder he wore could not hide the labyrinth of wrinkles that were etched across his face.

He was followed by his eldest son, Hector, whose dark, menacing eyes swept the room as he entered. He was nearly as tall as his father, but where Priam was lean, Hector was broad and powerfully built. Behind his thick black beard, his face was stern, hard and uncompromising, giving him an air of intimidating natural authority. This was accentuated by the simplicity of his clothing: a black, knee-length tunic and a woollen cloak, swept back over his shoulders to reveal a plain leather cuirass and a belt with a silver dagger.

Upon reaching the throne, Priam turned and raised his hands in an extravagant greeting, a broad and pleasant smile on his face. From the moment he had entered, the chamber had been filled with the scraping of heavy wooden chairs as the Trojans – regardless of age or rank – threw themselves to the flagstones to grovel like dogs before their master. Now, as Priam surveyed the large, bright chamber, only the four Greeks dared to look back at him. Though they had stood out of respect, their pride forbade them to prostrate themselves before any man, king or not.

‘Get down on your knees, you foreign swine,’ said the old herald who had called them in from the antechamber. He was kneeling beside them with his forehead to the floor, talking from the side of his mouth and desperately trying to swipe at Eperitus’s shins with his staff.

‘Peace, Idaeus,’ Priam commanded in his own language, his strong, clear voice ringing from the walls. ‘Our guests can’t be blamed if Antenor failed to instruct them in our ways. Besides, they no doubt believe themselves my equal – I’ve heard there’s no respect amongst Greeks, only pride and insolence. Now, my sons and friends, raise yourselves and let us hear what these people have to say. Antenor, please be so kind as to visit me in my personal quarters after this is over.’

The king lowered himself into his throne, while Hector sat on the stool at the foot of the dais, resting his chin on his fist and glaring at the assembly. As the rest of the Trojans lifted themselves from the floor and retook their seats, a bard ran his fingers skilfully across his lyre and began to sing. The sound of his voice was soft and clear, though unintelligible to the Greeks, and as he sang a crowd of slaves appeared with platters of food and cups of wine to replace those that had already been consumed. Priam rose again to pour the first libation to the gods, then lifted the shining golden goblet to his lips and took a mouthful.

‘That’s good!’ he said with a smack of his lips. ‘Idaeus, tell our friends to tuck in. If they’re here to talk, they might as well do it on full stomachs.’

‘King Priam says you should eat,’ Idaeus informed the Greeks curtly.

Odysseus, seeing the eyes of every Trojan upon them, stood and poured his own libation, before taking a large gulp of wine and following it with a handful of goats’ meat. Immediately the rest of the room began drinking and eating, and soon the smoky air was filled with the sound of voices and feasting.

Menelaus, however, continued to refuse all food and drink. As the cacophony continued – and Priam showed no sign of asking the names and lineage of his guests or the purpose of their visit – the Spartan king’s impatience grew. Eventually, annoyed by what he saw as Priam’s deliberate efforts to frustrate him, he slammed his great fist down on the table and stood up.

‘You!’ he said, pointing at Idaeus as the noise fell away and all eyes turned on him. ‘Tell your king that the time for feasting is over. If he won’t ask our names, as
polite
custom requires, then I’ll give them to him: I am King Menelaus of Sparta, son of Atreus. This is King Odysseus of Ithaca, son of Laertes. Our two companions are Palamedes and Eperitus. We have sailed for many days on a mission of vital importance to both our peoples – as,
no doubt
, you are fully aware – yet since our arrival, Priam has treated us with nothing less than contempt. Are we dogs, that we should be kept outside the citadel walls until the king has finished toying with his women? Or are we kings, to be treated with the respect that our rank commands? However he regards us is immaterial to me, but I warn him to listen to what I have to say, or the whole of Ilium will have to face the consequences.’

Idaeus took a moment to comprehend what Menelaus had told him, then turned and translated it to his king. An angry murmur broke out from the gathered nobles, but was silenced by a barked command from Hector.

‘Tell King Menelaus we are fully aware of who he and his companions are,’ the prince replied in a gravelly voice, leaning on his knees and staring directly at the Spartan. ‘And that, since Anchises and Antenor were sent to request the return of my father’s sister, Hesione, and were almost murdered for their efforts, we do not feel inclined to be lectured on matters of hospitality by
Greeks
. However, we respect the code of
xenia
and will gladly listen to the purpose of his mission, if he will share it with us.’

‘Menelaus!’ Odysseus hissed as they listened to Idaeus’s translation. ‘Curb your temper, man. Do you want Helen back or not?’

Menelaus glowered at his comrade, but took a deep breath and turned once more to face the royal dais.

‘Very well, then, we can dispense with the formalities. If Hector wants to pretend he doesn’t know the purpose of our visit, that’s up to him. But as this matter concerns his brother, I demand that Paris is brought before this council so that all the facts can be heard and properly debated.’

Menelaus watched as Priam and Hector exchanged looks and hushed words. It was Priam, this time, who answered.

‘Paris is not here,’ he said, a look of concern in his eyes. ‘I sent him to Greece to bargain for the return of Hesione, hoping my own son would succeed where all previous envoys have failed. Surely you’ve seen him?’

‘That’s a damned lie!’ Menelaus shouted. ‘I know he’s here, and my wife’s here with him!’

He gave a cry of rage and seized the edge of the table before him, tipping it over so that its contents spilled across the stone floor. The younger Trojans on either side sprang to their feet and made towards him, but were stopped by another bellowing command from Hector. Odysseus and Eperitus were up in an instant and had to use all their strength to drag Menelaus back to his chair.

‘Eperitus,’ Odysseus whispered, catching his friend’s eye and nodding towards the cup on Palamedes’s table. ‘Do it now. He’s been drinking like a horse all afternoon – building up his courage, I expect. If you’re quick, he won’t even notice.’

Menelaus flopped back onto his chair and sank his face into his hands. Odysseus immediately left him and took two steps towards the hearth, so that all eyes were focused on his squat, triangular form.

‘My friends,’ he said, holding up his hands and looking around at the assembly, their faces glowing angrily in the light from the fire. Idaeus translated from behind his left shoulder. ‘Honourable Trojans, I beg you to forgive my long-suffering comrade. If you knew what this man has been through these past few weeks, you’d understand his torment and look on him with pity, not the fury I see in your eyes now.’

Odysseus continued to stare from face to face, giving his words time to sink in and waiting for the angry murmurs of the Trojans to subside. Behind him, Eperitus pulled the small vial of powder from his pouch and held it in the palm of his hand, his eyes switching from Palamedes to Odysseus and back again.

‘What’s this all about, Odysseus?’ Hector said, unable to tolerate the silence any longer. ‘What does Menelaus want with my brother? Didn’t Paris visit him in Sparta? He had intended to go there first.’

‘My lord Hector, things haven’t started well between us. There’s been too much distrust on both sides, but if our peoples are to be saved from a great tragedy then we must agree to be open and honest with one another. Do you give me your word, as a warrior and a man of honour, that Paris is not in Troy, and that you haven’t seen him since he left for Greece?’

‘My brother hasn’t been seen or heard of for weeks, and may Zeus strike me down if I lie. Now tell me what you know of him, Odysseus.’

‘Is he dead?’ Priam interrupted, leaning forward slightly and curling his fingers anxiously over the armrest of his throne.

‘He lives, as far as I know, my lord,’ Odysseus answered, ‘unless the gods have avenged the dishonour he brought on your house. Because Paris
did
visit Sparta, and the last anybody saw of him he was fleeing the city with Menelaus’s wife as his captive.’

This time Hector and Priam did not pretend to wait for Idaeus’s translation.

‘What?’ Hector exclaimed in Greek, standing and staring at Odysseus through the haze thrown up by the hearth. ‘He wouldn’t dare!’

A moment later he was joined by the rest of the assembly, who after listening to Idaeus’s translation again left their seats and cried out as one in protest against the accusation.

‘No son of mine would do such a thing,’ said Priam, also in Greek, as he stepped down from the dais to stand next to Hector. ‘Kidnap a royal queen? He’s a prince and a warrior, and he is loyal to the will of his father. It’s just not possible!’

‘It’s true,’ said Menelaus, lifting his face from his hands and talking with deep despondency. ‘He was a guest in my home and swore a sacred oath of friendship to me, but the very night I went on a journey to Crete he stole Helen from me and took my lad, Pleisthenes, too.’

‘By all the sacred gods of Ilium!’ Priam exclaimed, leaning against Hector. ‘He can’t have!’

‘He has,’ Odysseus confirmed. ‘And throughout Greece the storm clouds are gathering. Unless Helen is returned, there will be war.’

This statement was greeted by more angry muttering from the Trojans, and in the buzz of voices Eperitus signalled to one of the slaves to bring wine. As the man began refilling his half-empty goblet, Eperitus moved to the seat beside Palamedes.

‘Fill this, too,’ he ordered, taking Palamedes’s goblet and passing it to the slave. Palamedes, who was growing more agitated as his eyes flicked between Odysseus and Priam, hardly seemed to notice Eperitus’s presence beside him.

‘Paris is not here,’ Priam said again, in a loud voice. ‘How do we know you’re telling us the truth until we speak to him? For all we know, Helen may have left willingly.’

Menelaus lifted his head sharply and there was anger in his eyes, but Odysseus spoke first.

‘We have taken you at your word, my lords, and accept that Paris has not yet returned to Troy; you must also take our word and believe that Menelaus’s wife was abducted by your son. I can understand why you might doubt me – a foreigner who comes to your city with the threat of war on his tongue – so instead I ask you to look at this man.’

Odysseus moved to stand behind Menelaus’s chair. His eyes rested briefly on Eperitus, who raised Palamedes’s goblet and poured the powder into it. Odysseus smiled and gave a subtle wink, before turning and placing his hands on the Spartan’s shoulders.

‘I’ve known this man for ten years,’ he told the assembled Trojans, ‘ever since the best of the Greeks gathered to pay court to the most beautiful woman in the world – Helen of Sparta. And of all the great men she could have chosen from – Diomedes, Ajax, Idomeneus and many more – she picked the greatest of us all, Menelaus. But look at him now, a ruin of his former self, destroyed by the loss of his wife. Could a man feign the rage and despair you yourselves have witnessed in him?’

He paused for Idaeus to translate his words, and as the Trojans discussed what Odysseus had said, Eperitus placed Palamedes’s goblet of wine on the table before him.

‘What do you think?’ he asked in a low voice. ‘Will they agree to return Helen?’

Palamedes’s eyelids were heavy with wine and his eyes unfocused. ‘Can’t be sure, but Hector’s certainly angry with Paris. He told Priam this is going to ruin everything he’s planned for.’

‘How could you know that?’ Eperitus asked, suddenly attentive. ‘Every word they’ve spoken to each other has been in their own language.’

‘My nursemaid was a Trojan slave, captured in a raid,’ Palamedes answered. ‘She taught me her language when I was a child, and I’ve been able to understand almost every word I’ve heard since arriving here.’

‘Then why didn’t you tell us that before?’ Eperitus snapped, feeling his temper rise at the sight of Palamedes’s smug grin.

But at that moment Odysseus held up his hands for silence. ‘Even if you don’t care for the suffering of this man,’ he continued, patting Menelaus’s shoulders, ‘even if your desire is to support Paris, regardless of whether Helen was taken from Sparta or left willingly, then think of the wider consequences. You’re all noblemen and many of you have royal blood in your veins. If you condone the abduction of a queen – Helen was not taken as a spoil of war like Hesione was, remember – you are saying that such acts are acceptable. Then where will you be? Moral standards will falter. The gods will abandon you. If in times of peace men are allowed to think that royal women are there to be plucked like apples from a tree, or women come to believe they are free to choose their lovers, how will you protect your own families? What’s more, how will you ever be sure that your children are truly yours? Do you want to raise the bastard sons of others as your own and let them inherit what is not theirs? If you do not give Helen back to Menelaus when Paris returns, then
you
will be responsible for the doom that follows!’