The Oracles of Troy (The Adventures of Odysseus) (56 page)

‘And you, old friend?’ Eperitus asked. ‘You must be keen to haul up the anchor stones and set sail? To get back to Penelope and Telemachus.’

Odysseus could not hide a grin at the thought, but his eyes were less certain.

‘The heart’s eager, but the mind is afraid,’ he replied. ‘My whole body’s crying out to hold Penelope again and to embrace my boy for the first time since he was a baby. And yet the idea terrifies me, too. What if Penelope doesn’t love me any more? What if Telemachus hates me for abandoning him at such a young age? I would in his place – wouldn’t you?’

The doubt in his intelligent, green eyes was genuine, but Eperitus laughed it off and threw an arm about his shoulder.

‘Stop worrying. Remember the message Penelope sent with Omeros? Didn’t she say she was desperate for you to return, and that Telemachus is longing for his father? When we finally sail back into that tiny little harbour, it’s going to be the greatest homecoming in the whole of Greece. And,’ he added, with a hint of solemnity, ‘don’t forget she said that Eupeithes is threatening his old tricks again. The sooner we get back, the sooner we can deal with him and his cronies.’

Odysseus simply nodded and turned his attention back to the other kings. A soldier had arrived and was handing Agamemnon a large clay tablet marked with tightly packed symbols. The king showed it to Nestor and they discussed its contents in hushed voices. Eperitus tipped out a slop of wine in libation to the gods and raised the krater to his lips.

‘So, what did I miss?’ he asked.

‘There were some heated arguments about how the plunder should be shared –’

‘Nine-tenths to Agamemnon and the scraps to be divided equally between the rest of us?’ Eperitus asked, sceptically.

‘Surprisingly, no,’ Odysseus answered. ‘He wanted a full half, but that received a lot of complaints and he backed down without much of a fight. Perhaps he’s content with the destruction of Troy and the knowledge the Aegean will be controlled by Mycenae from now on. Either way, he agreed everything should be split equally, depending on the number of ships each king brought with him.’

Eperitus raised his eyebrows. ‘And the captives?’

‘The same, to be decided by lot. Except for the high-ranking women, that is. They were brought before the assembly and allotted by Agamemnon – Cassandra to himself, Hecabe to me, Andromache to Neoptolemus, Helen to Menelaus –’

‘Why Helen?’ Eperitus asked, glancing back over his shoulder at where the women stood. ‘I saw her with the others as I came up from the ships, but she can hardly be thought of as a
prisoner
.’

‘Agamemnon insisted, much to his brother’s distaste. I think he’s always known she left Sparta willingly, and this is his way of punishing her for that – by parading her like a common captive and letting her know what he really thinks of her. But she didn’t play along with him. If Agamemnon was expecting humility, he got nothing but defiance. You saw she was still wearing a Trojan dress – despite the fact Menelaus has kept a chest of her old clothes on his galley for the past ten years – and that her hair was plaited in the Trojan style? She even had the nerve to address the Council in the Trojan tongue, as if to say she thought of herself as a Trojan and never wanted to be rescued in the first place.’

Agamemnon seemed to be concluding his conversation with Nestor and had taken his golden staff in both hands. Guessing the debate would resume again soon, Eperitus took a final swallow of his wine and handed the empty krater to a slave.

‘What did Menelaus think to that?’ he asked in a hushed voice as the other conversations began to die down

‘I think he enjoyed seeing Agamemnon embarrassed,’ Odysseus whispered. ‘After all, whatever his brother does to Helen now, he does to Menelaus also. And I don’t know what has passed between Helen and Menelaus since last night, but I think they’ve come to an understanding with each other about the past. They know their marriage has to work, if only because of the price that has been paid to win Helen back again. So if she wants to play games and put Agamemnon in his place, then Menelaus seems happy to go along with it. He knows she’ll still be going back to Sparta with him.’

‘Now I almost wish I’d been here to witness it – at least, to see Agamemnon’s face.’

Agamemnon rose from his seat, his golden staff in his hand, and walked out to the centre of the Council. The last few conversations trailed away and all eyes now focussed on the King of Men.

‘I’ve received the full tally of all items retrieved from Troy,’ he announced, ‘classed by type – gold, silver, copper, bronze, wood, wool, silk and so on – and measured by weight. The total weight of each item will be divided by the number of ships in the fleet, of which there are one thousand, one hundred and eighty-seven. Each –’

‘My lord!’

The shout rang out from the Scaean Gate, from where a Mycenaean soldier was running towards the Council. He was not one of Agamemnon’s bodyguard, though the quality of his armour indicated he was a lesser noble.

‘My lord Agamemnon,’ he panted.

‘What is it?’ Agamemnon replied coldly.

‘We’ve found the boy you were looking for. Hector’s son.’

‘
Astyanax
?’ the king asked. ‘You’re certain? Then bring him here at once.’

The guard signalled to a group of soldiers by the gate. They parted and a single man came forward carrying an infant boy in his arms. A scream pierced the hush that had spread across the Council and Andromache ran out from beneath the canopy where the Trojan women stood, followed closely by Helen.

‘Keep them back!’ Agamemnon ordered.

Two guardsmen threw down their spears and caught hold of the women, pinning their arms to their sides and pushing them back towards the canopy. Menelaus stepped forward angrily, but Nestor restrained him with a hand on his shoulder. In the same moment, the circle of kings parted and the soldier carrying Astyanax entered. He placed the boy down in the middle and left again, following his officer back to the gates. Astyanax, barely old enough to sit up, looked around at the faces of the Greek commanders, showing no signs of fear. He even produced a smile at the familiar sight of armed men.

‘So,’ Agamemnon announced, ‘Hector’s son has been found. Behold, men of Greece, the last king of Troy sits before you!’ There was a ripple of uncertain laughter as Agamemnon stooped to lift the child onto his arm, the sceptre still balanced in his other hand. ‘Your mother swore by all the gods that you were dead, boy, though I knew she was lying – women have no sense of honour, after all. And now we’ve found you, we have to decide what to do with you, don’t we? Or, more to the point,
who
will do it.’

‘Leave him alone!’ Helen screamed.

Agamemnon ignored her, bouncing the boy playfully on his arm while looking about at the members of the Council. Eperitus glanced across at Andromache, who was on her knees with her face in her hands, being comforted by Helen. He knew how she felt, having watched helplessly as the King of Men had murdered his own daughter. For he already knew what Agamemnon intended to do with Astyanax, and the thought of it as he looked at Hector’s son – so similar in looks to his valiant father – filled him with horror. And a sudden determination to stop it.

‘It’s obvious what should happen to the boy,’ crowed a familiar, but unexpected voice.

A stooped figure cloaked in black with the hood pulled over his face rose from the outer ring of chairs and pushed his way into the centre circle. Agamemnon offered him the staff, and as he took it the man flicked back his hood to reveal his bald head and thin, pale face. His dark eyes stared about at the Greeks and there was madness in them.

‘He has to die,’ Calchas finished his statement. ‘If he lives he will grow up to rebuild Troy and avenge the death of his father.’

‘But who will kill the child, Calchas?’ Diomedes called out. ‘Will you?’

Calchas scowled at the Argive king.

‘Thus speaks the man whose father failed to defeat Thebes, leaving his son to finish the task. Do you want your children to endure another war like this one, Diomedes, just because you don’t have the ruthless courage to expunge your enemies? Scorn my words if you wish, but unless you want a new Troy to rise from the ashes then Astyanax must die!’

Calchas thrust the staff back into Agamemnon’s hand and returned to his seat, letting his doom-filled words settle on the Council.

‘I say kill the boy,’ Little Ajax grunted.

His words were met by a smattering of nods and murmurs of agreement.

‘Too many Greeks have died because of Troy, my own son among them,’ said Nestor. ‘Astyanax must die. We have no choice.’

Neoptolemus stood up and pointed with a snarl at the child in Agamemnon’s arms.

‘Kill him and be done with it!’

Others stood now, angrily voicing their support in an attempt to drown out the wailing of the Trojan women. Eperitus saw the smile on Agamemnon’s face, and before he knew what he was doing he stood up.

‘No. He’s just a child. Give him to me and I’ll bring him up as my own son.’

Silence fell on the assembly and every eye turned on Eperitus. In an instant, Odysseus was standing beside him with his hand on his arm.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ he hissed.

‘Trying to save the boy,’ Eperitus replied, his voice low but filled with determination. ‘And if you allow this murder to go ahead, Odysseus, you’re just as bad as they are.’

Odysseus looked into his eyes and bit on his lip, unable to reply. Then Agamemnon put the child back down in the dry grass and stared at Eperitus with an icy gaze.

‘You heard the Council,’ he said. ‘The boy has to die. There’s no debate on the matter, Eperitus; it’s already decided.’

‘I’ll not stand by and watch you murder this child in cold blood, just like you did Iphigenia!’

He saw the shocked reaction on the faces of the Council, who seemed to collectively sit up and suck in breath. But his only thought now was for Astyanax: if he could at least fight for the boy, he might make up in some small way for his failure to save his own daughter. He fixed his stare on the Mycenaean king, whose usually aloof façade had given way to a look of intense hatred.

‘Then your desire is granted,’ Agamemnon seethed. ‘You will not
stand by
and watch him killed.
You will be the one to kill him
!’

‘Never,’ Eperitus snapped.

‘I
order
you to do it!’

Eperitus spat on the ground and drew his sword. Several of the kings reached for the hilts of their own weapons, while the guards behind Nestor and Menelaus raised their spears and aimed them nervously at the Ithacan. Then, seizing the long tail of hair behind his neck, Eperitus sawed through it and tossed it at Agamemnon’s feet.

‘I don’t answer to you any more, Agamemnon. None of us do. The oath we took has been fulfilled and you’re no longer the King of Men. You’re just the king of Mycenae now, and I’m
not
a Mycenaean!’

‘Eperitus is right, he doesn’t have to follow your orders any more,’ Diomedes said. Then, slipping a dagger from his belt, he sawed off the long mane of hair that had not been cut since the start of the war and flung it onto the dirt. ‘And neither do I.’

Agamemnon was speechless with rage and his fury only seemed to increase as one by one the other kings, princes and captains who formed the Council began cutting away the tails from the back of their own heads and throwing them into the circle. When, at last, Menelaus and Nestor did the same, he finally realised that his hegemony over the Greeks had ended.

‘This doesn’t change the boy’s fate,’ he said. ‘You, the Council, decided that he should die, not me alone. And if none of you has the courage to do it, then I will throw him from the walls myself.’

Eperitus stepped forward to protest again, but Odysseus pulled him back to his seat.

‘Agamemnon’s right. The decision was taken by the whole Council; you can’t defend the boy against all the kings of Greece.’

‘Give Astyanax to me,’ Neoptolemus announced before Eperitus could react. ‘If he’s going to grow up to avenge his father, then as Achilles’s son I’m the one who stands to lose the most if he lives. Besides, Andromache is my woman now; I don’t want her pining for a bastard child when she’ll be bearing sons for me.’

‘And do you think she would ever forgive you for killing him, Neoptolemus?’ asked Odysseus. ‘More likely she’ll put a knife into you when you’re sleeping. No,
I’ll
kill the boy.’

Eperitus watched incredulously as his king crossed the circle and picked up the small child, wrapping his faded purple cloak about him.

‘Odysseus, no!’ he said, rushing forward and seizing his forearm. ‘
What are you doing
?’

Suddenly Odysseus’s face transformed with rage and he shoved his captain hard in the chest, sending him staggering backwards to collapse between Little Ajax and Teucer. He tried to get up again, but the two men held him fast.

‘I’m a father,’ Odysseus said, tight-lipped as he faced the Council. ‘This is not something I do with pride; I do it with shame. But I’ll do it because it has to be done – not for you, Agamemnon, nor the Council, but for the future of Greece.’

He pushed his way out of the ring of commanders and walked slowly towards the Scaean Gate, turning once to stare back accusingly at the members of the Council. They looked away guiltily and Agamemnon picked up the tablet from where he had put it down in the grass.

‘We have unfinished business,’ he said, looking down at the markings on the tablet. ‘Yes, here we are. The weight of gold found in Troy was –’

His words faded into the background as Eperitus tried to see Odysseus through the ring of seated men, but Little Ajax and Teucer kept him pinned between them. They would not let him go, he realised, until Odysseus had reappeared on the walls and thrown Astyanax down to his death. Quickly his mind scanned back over what had happened, wondering if there was anything he had not understood, some statement that could justify Odysseus killing a child. But there was nothing, nothing at all. He felt numb, unable to comprehend what was happening. Once again, he was lying helpless while a child he had tried to protect was murdered.