The Gates Of Troy Part 12

'But you heard what happened to Menelaus,' Eperitus said, lowering his voice and indicating the Spartan with a jerk of his thumb. 'Paris is no respecter of xenia, so why should any of the rest of them be? They're foreigners and barbarians, after all.'

Odysseus gave him a knowing look. 'I suspect Paris clapped eyes on Helen and all his notions of honour turned to dust. You can hardly blame the man for that, can you?'

'You know I can. A man without honour is worthless.'

Odysseus laughed at the uncompromising look on his friend's face. 'You're a warrior in the old-fas.h.i.+oned style, Eperitus principled, dependable and as hard as iron. There aren't many of your kind around any more.'

'Some warrior I'd have been if Agamemnon's sail hadn't appeared that day on Hermes's Mount,' Eperitus sniffed, arching his eyebrows. 'I'd have left you in search of glory and missed the greatest war in history!'

Odysseus shook his head. 'You'd still have got there, just under another king's banner.'

'Then you think it'll be war?'

'I can't say,' Odysseus replied. 'Not until I've spoken to Priam. But he's old enough to have seen three or four generations, so he won't be as hot-blooded as men of our age. He also has a kingdom to think of will he want to sacrifice everything he's built for the sake of a woman? I hope not. I hope he'll give up Helen so that we can go back to our homes and families.'

'And more years of peace,' Eperitus sighed despondently.

'Peace is the most precious thing we have!' Odysseus said, his face serious. 'I used to dream of adventure and fame, too, but nowadays all I care about is persuading the Trojans to release Helen without a blow being struck. If men are still honoured for success in debate as well as battle, then I'd rather win renown that way than in a war that could last for months or years.'

'I hope you'll get your wish,' Eperitus said, sincerely. 'It would make me happy to know you were safely back on Ithaca with Penelope and Telemachus. I'd be pleased for Menelaus, too did you see his face a few moments back, when Eurybates spotted Tenedos? I've never seen such a melancholy look in a man. But my heart tells me our mission won't succeed, and that Agamemnon will have to resort to war to get Helen back.'

'Agamemnon doesn't give a d.a.m.n about Helen,' Odysseus said, shaking his head and looking towards Tenedos. The eastern side of the island was already in shadow, though the detail of olive groves and small farmsteads could now be seen as the galley sailed closer to its sh.o.r.es. 'All he wants is to conquer Troy, and Helen is just a convenient excuse to unite the Greeks under his banner. I doubt his ambitions have changed since the failed council of war in Sparta ten years ago.'

'Maybe,' Eperitus replied. 'But he also says that if we don't teach the Trojans a lesson now, they'll think the Greeks are afraid of them. Before long they'll be sailing across to steal our women whenever they feel like it. Then it'll be our homes and our land. What if he's right about that, Odysseus, and this emba.s.sy of yours is just putting off the day when we have to fight them anyway?'

'Then at least you'll have your chance of glory!' the king snapped. A moment later he dropped his gaze to the deck and wiped the sweat from his brow. 'I'm sorry, Eperitus. The truth is, I don't know what Priam or his sons have in mind, but I do suspect what Agamemnon wants. He wants to make Troy a Mycenaean colony.'

'That's ridiculous!'

'No it's not. You know Agamemnon: he's ruthless and ambitious, and won't stop at anything to have his way. You remember what he did to Clytaemnestra?'

'Of course I do,' Eperitus replied, his mind suddenly filled with the memory of Clytaemnestra's naked body, thin and hard as he made love to her on a Spartan mountainside. That was ten years ago and he had not seen her since, but he could still recall her pale skin glowing like bronze in the firelight, the sweat glistening on her ribs and small b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She had given herself to him that night because of her hatred for Agamemnon, who had murdered her first husband and infant child so that he could make her his wife. Yes, Eperitus thought, he knew how ruthless Agamemnon could be.

'Think about it,' Odysseus continued. 'If Agamemnon could eliminate Priam and make Troy into a Greek stronghold, the whole of the Aegean would be his. That would mean control of the trade in gold, silver, copper, timber, oil, cinnabar, linen, hemp and Zeus knows what other goods. He'd have the wealth to subdue the whole of Greece to his will, and maybe even oppose Egypt and the other great powers before long. If he defeats the Trojans it'll lead to one war after another, until even you'll be sick of the glory. The age of heroes has gone, Eperitus; we're entering a time of kings, men ruling empires that cross oceans and who have power over hundreds of thousands of lives. I've been thinking about this ever since that night on Malea, and I don't like it. I don't want Ithaca to be part of a single Greece ruled by Agamemnon, or part of an empire that stretches into Asia. I want it to remain peaceful and free, its own domain at the edge of the world. That as much as anything else Penelope and Telemachus included is why I want peace.'

Eperitus wanted to reply, but did not know what to say. He had always been a simple warrior with little understanding of politics, and yet the truth of Odysseus's words was inescapable. Perhaps the world was changing: the era of heroes, monsters and G.o.ds was fading, to be replaced by the cold, hard reality of power. Was his personal search for glory and a name that could cheat the totality of death already a thing of the past, like the bones of Heracles, Perseus and Jason? Would this war he so desired actually bring an end to the very values for which he was fighting?

As he struggled to comprehend the things that Odysseus had seen almost from the first appearance of Agamemnon's sail nearly four weeks before, the galley slipped slowly into the straits of Tenedos. To their right was a large bay that had been scooped from the gentle, wooded hills of the mainland, and on their left were the low humps of the island, behind which the sun was now sinking. Though Tenedos was an insignificant-looking rock about the same size as the southern half of Ithaca it was the last marker in their long journey to Troy. Eperitus felt a thrill of antic.i.p.ation course through him as the strong coastal wind filled the sail overhead and pushed the s.h.i.+p forward against the prevailing current. The straits were soon left behind and new, much larger islands became visible. Odysseus, standing at the bow rail beside him, pointed at each one in turn and named them distant Lemnos to the west; Imbros ahead of them to the north; and rising out of the blue haze beyond it, the high peaks of Samothrace. Then the reclining cliffs to their right fell away to reveal a wide, northeasterly gulf, into which Eurybates steered the s.h.i.+p.

Almost immediately, the coastline to their right opened out into a large bay that penetrated the plain beyond like the head of a spear. It was fed by two rivers the greater emerging from an area of green marshland to the south and the lesser running down from sloping pastureland to the northeast and the calm waters in between were crowded with fis.h.i.+ng vessels, merchant galleys and an ominously large number of powerful-looking wars.h.i.+ps. Standing back from the plain, on a high plateau between the two rivers, was the city of Troy. Its sloping walls caught the last light of the setting sun, staining the great blocks of dressed stone a vivid pink and striking awe, wonder and fear into the hearts of the Greeks. The crenellated ramparts were lined with guards, who stood with their tall spears and flas.h.i.+ng armour, staring down at the foreign s.h.i.+p that had come creeping into their waters. Rising above the level of the battlements were numerous tall, broad structures that were clearly the palaces and temples of the Trojans. Knots of people were gathered on the flat roofs, causing Eperitus to wonder whether Paris and Helen were among them. If Menelaus's wife was watching their arrival, he thought, she would surely recognize the shape of a Greek wars.h.i.+p and know they had come for her.

The galley slipped through the a.s.sortment of different craft, the majority of which were wars.h.i.+ps over fifty of them, with their spars removed and stowed to leave the masts naked. Without their crews they were but peaceful sh.e.l.ls, drifting at anchor on the quiet surface of the bay; and yet the power of such an armada, when armed with a full complement of warriors, was easy to imagine. The Ithacans looked in awe at the Trojan fleet, discussing in hushed voices the curiously curved bows and sterns, the double-banked oars and the second decks that ran the length of each s.h.i.+p to provide raised fighting platforms. The long, sleek form of their own craft fell into shadow as it glided between them, giving the crew a sense of how puny their vessel was in comparison.

On the yellow sands between the two rivers were the unfinished hulks of a dozen more s.h.i.+ps. These were propped up on wooden platforms that kept them above the waves, and were hung about on all sides with spars and ropes where teams of workmen had been busily finis.h.i.+ng hulls, fitting benches, adding masts and fastening rigging. They were abandoned and lonely now the workmen having returned to their homes for the evening but still seemed to echo with the noise and activity of the day just ended.

Beyond the rolling beaches, between the city and the mouth of the smaller river, a mult.i.tude of tents flapped noisily in the gale. A strong smell of smoke and roast meat drifted across the water from them, and large numbers of men many of them armed had left the cooking of the evening meal to watch the arrival of the newcomers.

The Ithacans stared back, curious and eager to see their first Trojans. None of them could look upon the fleet that was being created, or the army camped beside the bay, and not realize that Troy was preparing for war. But were they simply getting ready to defend Paris and Helen from the possibility of pursuit, or had they already heard of the planned gathering at Aulis? Whichever it was, the Greeks felt their stomachs sink at the sight of the organized and capable enemy before them, and as their eyes stretched eastward across the plain towards the well-built city of Troy their enthusiasm for war diminished even further.

'Is it true Troy's walls were made by Poseidon and Apollo?' Eperitus asked, glancing across at Odysseus.

'I'm sure of it,' the king answered. 'How could mere mortals build walls like those? When I saw them in my dream I knew they were strong, but now I see them with my own eyes they make the defences back on Ithaca look like a child's sand palace. Even Sparta's walls look weak in comparison.'

Eperitus stared at the city and could not help but be filled with admiration for its grandeur, might and sheer beauty. The north-west circuit of the walls stretched in an unbroken line that followed the contours of the steep-sided plateau. No gate or tower punctuated their smooth, reclining flanks. Then, where the hill dropped away to the south, the citadel ended and the city began. Here, flooding out across the plain, were the homes of the ordinary Trojans. Few structures could be seen beyond the high walls, which continued down from the citadel to surround the lower town in a vast loop, but the innumerable trails of grey smoke drifting over the towering battlements testified to the size of the population within.

As his eyes feasted on the vastness of the city, Eperitus was already probing the fortifications for weaknesses. The walls of the citadel benefited from the additional height of the plateau and were insurmountable. Even the walls of the lower city stood as tall as three men above the plain, and the western circuit that faced the bay was protected by three strong towers that could pour archery down on attackers from all sides. With his sharp eyes, Eperitus could see that the battlements were well made and in good repair, which meant the only vulnerable spot would be the single gate that opened onto the plain at the southernmost point of the walls. This was reached through a narrow defile that was protected by the tallest and broadest of the towers. In the event of an attack, the surrounding parapets would be crammed with archers who would send down a hail of arrows on any a.s.sailants as they squeezed into the gap that led to the gate.

'We'd better succeed, Odysseus, or we'll be a long time knocking those walls down.'

Odysseus and Eperitus turned to see Menelaus standing behind them, with Palamedes at his side. Both men had donned their breastplates, greaves and helmets and had slung their s.h.i.+elds across their backs. Their swords were ready in the scabbards that hung from their shoulders, and naked daggers had been tucked into their belts.

'A very long time, if we manage it at all,' Odysseus replied. 'But if you do want us to succeed, Menelaus, then I suggest we don't start by marching into the city dressed like conquerors. You will have to leave your armour and weapons here.'

'But that's lunacy,' Menelaus snorted, tightening his grip on the ivory handle of his sword. 'I'm not going to walk up to Paris and demand my wife back armed with nothing more than my fists. If anything goes wrong up there, they'll slaughter us like lambs.'

'We'll be their guests,' Odysseus insisted. 'They won't dare harm us, not unless they want to bring the wrath of Zeus down on themselves.'

'Those foreign dogs have no respect for xenia or the G.o.ds if they wors.h.i.+p the G.o.ds at all,' Menelaus retorted, his face reddening with anger. 'Paris broke his oath when he was a guest in my house! What'll stop him from killing us all in cold blood?'

'Nothing, my lord,' Eperitus commented. 'Nothing at all. But once we're up in that citadel, surrounded by ten thousand Trojans and penned in by their G.o.d-built walls, what difference will a sword and some armour make anyway?'

Palamedes, who seemed irritated by the delay, stepped forward. 'They're right, Menelaus. The Trojans won't dare mistreat us and dishonour the G.o.ds, but we shouldn't risk provoking them either.'

Menelaus huffed in response, then lifted the s.h.i.+eld off his back and threw it on the narrow decking of the prow, following it with his dagger, sword, and one by one the different elements of his rich armour.

'Bring in the sail!' Eurybates called from the helm.

There was an instant flurry of activity and within moments the sail had been furled and the spar detached. Odysseus looked on with pleasure as his crew demonstrated their excellent seamans.h.i.+p to the watching Trojans. Then there was a large splash from the anchor stone being cast overboard, followed by a jerk as the slow motion of the galley was brought to a sudden halt.

'Looks like they're sending a welcoming party,' Palamedes said, raising his chin towards the beach as he unbuckled his breastplate.

They turned to see an old man and two fully armed soldiers walking along the road that wound down from the city gate to the bay.

Odysseus peered over the bow rail.

'It's shallow. We can jump down and wade ash.o.r.e from here. Eurybates,' he called, 'you're in charge while we're gone. I want half the men to camp on the beach and half to remain on the s.h.i.+p, just in case we need to leave hastily. No one is to steal any goats or sheep; there's enough food onboard, and I don't want you lot causing an incident while I'm trying to talk peace. Do you understand?'

'Yes, my lord,' Eurybates replied.

'Antiphus,' Odysseus said, beckoning the archer forward from the benches. 'I want you and Arceisius to come with us. And bring Polites with you; if we do get into trouble, someone of his size will be useful.'

Antiphus nodded and went to find the others. Odysseus seized the bow rail and, with surprising agility for his size, leapt overboard to land with a splash in the water below. The others followed and soon they were wading ash.o.r.e to where the Trojan greybeard and his armed escort were awaiting them.

'My name is Antenor,' the old man announced in perfect but heavily accented Greek. His head hung down between his shoulders as if it had sprouted from his breastbone, and as he looked up at them p.r.o.nouncing each word with a slight nod and a flourish of his right hand they could see his left eye was blind and looked away at a slight angle. 'King Priam has asked me to welcome you to Troy.'

'I am King Menelaus of Sparta, son of Atreus. These men are my companions: King Odysseus of Ithaca, son of Laertes; Palamedes, son of Nauplius; and Eperitus, who keeps his lineage to himself but has the honour of captaining Odysseus's guard. We're here to speak with King Priam about a matter of the gravest concern.'

'Good, good. And my brother-in-law is equally keen to see you, King Menelaus,' Antenor a.s.sured him, with another series of nods and flourishes. 'He's intrigued to learn what business could bring a Greek wars.h.i.+p to our sh.o.r.es, and has asked if you will eat with him in the morning.'

'What's wrong with now?' Menelaus said, his forehead gathering into a dark frown.

'I'm afraid the king is predisposed,' Antenor answered. 'He is with one of his wives.'

'Wives!' Menelaus repeated, looking aghast. 'You mean he has more than one?'

Antenor gave the angry Spartan another smile. 'Of course he's the king, after all but my sons and I will be greatly honoured to entertain you and your escort in our home tonight. It's just outside the walls of Pergamos, by the gates.'

'Pergamos?' Odysseus asked.

'The citadel,' Palamedes explained, pointing up at the lofty buildings on the raised plateau.

'Then we will be happy to accept your hospitality, Antenor,' Odysseus continued, ignoring the Nauplian. 'And as your Greek is so good, perhaps you can teach us a little about your country as we walk? We're unfamiliar with Ilium and her customs.'

And so Antenor led them across the windswept plain to the city. Herds of goats and sheep could be seen wandering freely across it in the dusky twilight, while here and there were large, circular corrals where groups of well-fed, strong-looking horses chewed at the gra.s.s or peered over the bars of the wooden fences that penned them in. Many stone-built farms and settlements sat nestled between olive groves and clumps of poplars, which seemed permanently bent over by the unceasing northeasterly wind that swept the open flats. Odysseus and Eperitus strolled either side of the old man who, despite his age and crumpled posture, was quick on his feet; Menelaus and Palamedes followed close on their heels, both staring at the city walls with undisguised interest, and the three Ithacan guards tramped behind them. The two Trojan soldiers, their spears sloped lazily over their shoulders, brought up the rear. The evening sky above them was now a deep violet sprinkled with a few early stars, and as the copper glow on the western horizon faded it was impossible for the Greeks not to envy the Trojans the beauty of their land.

The large river to the south of the city was the Scamander, Antenor informed them, which had been named for its crooked course. Its smaller cousin to the north was the Simoeis. The area around both deltas was notoriously marshy and had grown more so since the cutting down of large numbers of oak trees in recent months, something the old man regretted. But when Odysseus asked if they had been felled to build the fleet of s.h.i.+ps in the bay he quickly forgot his sadness and pointed out the peak of Mount Ida in the south-east. It was sacred to the G.o.ddess Demeter, but several of the immortals were rumoured to frequent its wooded slopes. He went on to confirm that the city walls had been made by Poseidon and Apollo a few years before he was born, though some of the younger men in the city questioned the truth of the claim.

'It's because they've never had the privilege of seeing a G.o.d in human form,' he added.

Odysseus and Eperitus looked at each other, but said nothing.

'It didn't stop Heracles from sacking the place, though,' Antenor continued. 'I remember watching from the citadel walls, just a frightened youth quaking inside my inherited armour as he and Telamon breached the defences of the lower city. I can picture him as easily as if it was happening right now he was as tall as a young tree, with muscles sticking out all over the place. But he was no brute to look at. He had flowing hair and a thick beard, yet his face was the handsomest you could ever hope to see. A true son of Zeus, he was.'

'Where did he breach the wall?' Eperitus asked, trying to sound only mildly interested.

'Just over there, by that fig tree you can still see the repairs now. Shoddy work in comparison to the rest, but we Trojans aren't G.o.ds, after all.'

'Yes, I see it,' said Odysseus, sharing another quiet glance with Eperitus. They looked at the repaired breach with its ill-fitting stones that gave ample foot and handholds, and for the first time noticed the broad ditch that surrounded the walls of the lower city. Further along, at the foot of the plateau below the walls of the citadel, a group of women were filling jars with water from a two small pools, one of which was wreathed in steam.

'And this is the Scaean Gate,' Antenor said, pointing to the entrance they had seen from the galley. 'One of the four ways into Troy. The others all face inland.'

It had been a long walk from the beach to the city walls, and a hazy half-moon was already rising over the citadel as they reached the defile that fed into the Scaean Gate. A dozen spearmen stood watching them from the ramparts, dressed in the same curious style of armour worn by Antenor's guards. Each had a leather tunic covered in overlapping bronze scales that ran from the neck to the groin or upper thighs. The fish-like armour was supplemented by a tall, rectangular s.h.i.+eld of ox-hide sometimes with a layer of bronze over the top that curved in at the sides, and a bronze cap with a horsetail plume that hung down at the back or side. Two more soldiers leaned against the trunk of a solitary oak tree to one side of the dirt track. They nodded to Antenor, but eyed the Greeks with undisguised hostility as they pa.s.sed by.

The old man led his guests between the high walls of the salient to the open doors of the Scaean Gate. These were tall, made of thick wood and fitted closely with the surrounding stonework. Any attempted a.s.sault through them, Eperitus now felt sure, would be suicidal.

As they pa.s.sed beneath the majestic, menacing battlements they heard a clamour of voices and suddenly found themselves surrounded by a great crush of onlookers. It was as if the whole town had rushed down to see the foreign warriors, and the armed escort now moved in front of Antenor and began using their s.h.i.+elds in a brutal manner, herding the crowd back against the walls of the closely packed stone houses to clear a route. But the more people they thrust back, the more seemed to emerge from the doorways and side streets, swelling the mult.i.tude and pressing closer on all sides in their eagerness to see the Greeks.

Eperitus looked about himself at the sea of strange faces. All had dark skin, s.h.i.+ning black hair and large brown eyes that stared at the newcomers with mistrust and even hatred. Why they should hate them Eperitus did not know, but the tension was palpable and he feared the tiniest spark could turn the mob violent. Some called out in their abrasive foreign tongue, the words unfamiliar but the meaning clear, and only the towering presence and withering gaze of Polites seemed to keep their anger from spilling over. Eperitus instinctively clutched at the hilt of a sword that was not there, and felt suddenly, horribly vulnerable.

'They'll not harm us,' Palamedes a.s.sured him, standing at his shoulder and looking calmly around at the many faces.

Eperitus said nothing as more soldiers barged past them to help disperse the crowd with the b.u.t.ts of their spears. Instead, following his protective instinct, he moved closer to Odysseus as Antenor led the way up the broad, paved street towards the citadel. The babbling voices on either side drowned out all other sounds and seemed to close in on him like a swarm of angry bees. His nostrils were full of the smells of roast meat and cooking fires, mixed with the sharp stench of a ma.s.s of unwashed bodies. Beyond the staring faces, the buildings on either side of the street were low none of them more than a single storey high poorly built and small in dimension. They reminded him of the slums in his home town of Alybas: tightly built shelters where families were crammed together in one or two rooms, taking their warmth at night from each other's bodies as they slept in a ma.s.s on the dirt floors. They were places where privacy the preserve of the n.o.bility was unknown, and hards.h.i.+p and deprivation were a certainty. After ten years in the idyllic island kingdom of Ithaca, the experience of lower Troy revolted him.

Then, as they struggled up the cobbled road towards Pergamos, Eperitus noticed a young man elbowing his way through the crowd. A flash of clean white robes from beneath his black cloak marked him as wealthy possibly even a n.o.ble. He would also have been taller than the rest of the throng, but his crooked back and stooping gait robbed him of any advantage, obliging him to fight for a position at the front of the press. All the time he maintained an unfaltering watch on the Greeks, his nearly black eyes gleaming out of the shadow cast by his hood as he scrutinized them one by one. The others hardly seemed to notice him in the noise and bustle, but Eperitus found himself fascinated by the pale, skull-like face. Then their eyes met and Eperitus was drawn helplessly into the man's gaze, which was deep and at the same time edged with a fierce intensity, like spots of sunlight trembling on the surface of a lake. At first he felt as if the Trojan was looking through him, and then he realized he was looking into him, searching his thoughts with a freedom Eperitus could do nothing to resist. It took all his strength to just close his eyes and force his head away, but even this, he felt, was only possible because the hooded man had already taken what he wanted. When he opened them again, the man was gone.

Eventually the crowds thinned and the guards were able to form a holding line across the road, allowing Antenor to proceed unhindered with his guests. They still found themselves watched from numerous doors and windows, but the higher they climbed up the winding road the larger and better built the houses became, and the less threatening the attention of the city dwellers. Before long they were at the walls of the citadel, where the white crescent of the moon looked down at them from above the high-toothed battlements. A tall tower stood away to their right. At its base were six carved figures mounted on stone plinths. They were clearly depictions of the G.o.ds, but their strange forms were unrecognizable to the Greeks, who drew no comfort from the sight of them and felt more distant than ever from the homes they had left behind.

'My house is just down here,' Antenor announced, indicating a two-storeyed, square building halfway down a side street to their left. Two young men stood at the open doorway, the light from within pooled at their feet. 'My wife, Theano, and our sons have been preparing a feast in your honour. Come inside, now, and put your weariness behind you. Whatever tomorrow brings, tonight I want you to taste real Trojan hospitality.'

Chapter Thirteen.

PERGAMOS.

'Is this any way to treat guests, Antenor?'

Menelaus was red with anger. He sat on a stone bench outside the soaring, highly decorated portals of Priam's throne room and looked at the old man sitting opposite. Antenor shrugged his sloping shoulders in resignation and gave the Spartan king a rea.s.suring smile.

'My brother-in-law is a busy man, my lord. I'm sure he'll be as quick as he can, but these affairs of state demand much of his time.'

'You mean he's with another of his blasted wives!' Menelaus retorted, gripping his knees until his knuckles turned white. 'Well, we've been waiting here all morning and I'm getting tired of it. If those doors don't open soon I'm going to go in there myself and teach him a few manners!'

'We're not in Sparta now, Menelaus,' Odysseus chided him. He sat between Antiphus and Polites on one side and Eperitus and Antenor on the other, slouching back against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. 'Trojan ways aren't our ways, but as long as we're in their country we'll just have to put up with them.'

'I don't believe Trojans do treat their guests like this,' said Palamedes, who was sitting between Menelaus and Arceisius. 'Antenor and his sons were perfect hosts last night. You and Menelaus were given the places of honour, and Eperitus, myself and the others were seated on either side of you; when the animals were sacrificed, the G.o.ds were given their due and then you both received the long chines, just as we give the choicest parts to the guests of honour at home. Whenever any of us spoke, Antenor and his sons listened respectfully and without interruption. So if Trojans know as well as any Greek how to care for their guests, then Priam is deliberately snubbing us. He wants to provoke our anger and force us to fail in our mission. In my opinion, he has no intention of giving up Helen at all.'

'Palamedes!' Eperitus hissed.

Antenor raised his head inquisitively. 'Who's Helen?'

'n.o.body to concern yourself about, friend,' Odysseus replied, patting the old man amicably on the shoulder. 'A matter between us, that's all.'

Antenor seemed to accept this and returned his bored gaze to the doors of the throne room, but Eperitus could sense Odysseus's anger as he stared across at Palamedes. Only the night before, as they had bathed in preparation for the feast in Antenor's house, the Ithacan king had insisted that none of them should reveal the purpose of their mission until they were standing before Priam. Palamedes, Eperitus felt, had deliberately defied him, and the brief look of triumph on his pinched, rat-like features suggested Odysseus's suspicions about the Nauplian prince were true.

Eperitus turned to look through the open doorway of the antechamber, where the wide courtyard of the palace was bright in the sunlight, and trawled his mind through the events of the night before. Odysseus had left none of them in any doubt as to why he believed they should not speak to anyone about their mission. Despite the readiness of the Trojans for war, his instincts told him things were not as they seemed. People were bemused or angered by their arrival, but not afraid. If they had thought the Greeks were there to reclaim Helen, they would have known the threat of war was not far behind them. But their faces did not show anxiety or fear, and because of this Odysseus was convinced the ordinary Trojans did not know Helen had been brought to their city if she was even within the walls of Troy at all. For this reason, he said, they should not speak of their mission until they had tested Priam on the matter.

Although Menelaus scoffed at the idea that Helen might not be a prisoner in the city and Eperitus had been quietly doubtful both men were quickly forced to agree that her presence was at least a closely guarded secret. Antenor and his eleven sons certainly seemed ignorant of the fact: they had even enquired about their guests' families a bold question to ask, had they known the true reason for their visit.

Though normally suspicious of non-Greeks, Eperitus had quickly grown to like his hosts. Their household shrine was well maintained and treated with reverence by the entire family, even if the depictions of the G.o.ds were strange to Eperitus's eyes. He was also pleased with the honourable way they treated their guests, which was especially surprising for foreigners. However, it soon became clear that Antenor was an admirer of the Greeks and had pa.s.sed this love down to his sons. As a buyer and seller of pottery and silver and gold artefacts, he had had dealings over many years with merchants from Mycenae, Sparta, Athens, Crete and other Greek kingdoms. This had led to an understanding of their language and an appreciation of their culture, for which reason Priam had sent him to Salamis to request the return of Hesione. Despite the poor reception he had received there, Antenor stayed long enough to intensify his fondness for all things Greek and become fluent in the language. This, as far as Eperitus was concerned, explained Antenor's excellence as a host.

'Does Priam speak any Greek?' Odysseus had asked, as they said goodbye to Theano and Antenor's sons at the threshold of the house that morning, before leaving for their audience with the Trojan king.

'He speaks several languages, but Greek only pa.s.sably,' Antenor replied. 'I've been teaching him myself, at his insistence. But he will probably only speak in our native tongue when you come before him. He likes foreigners to think he can't understand them, then listens in on their private conversations. I shouldn't have told you that, of course.'

'Of course. What about his sons?'

'Hector speaks your language with a fluency equal to my own. He's thirsty for knowledge of all things Greek and has his own tutor a man from Pylos who instructs him daily in Greek language, culture, politics, warfare . . .'

'Warfare?' Eperitus interrupted.

'Yes. Hector has always loved anything to do with war, and you'll not find a more formidable fighter anywhere.'

By then they had reached the tower they had seen the evening before. Its soaring walls sloped to the height of two tall men, then continued vertically, up and up until they reached the crenellated battlements, from which the helmeted head of a guard was peering down at them. In the broad light of morning they could see the walls were constructed from ma.s.sive limestone blocks, so finely fitted together that they did not need mortar. At the foot of the tower, facing south, were the six statuettes they had noticed the night before, deliberately placed so that all newcomers to the citadel would see them. Whether they were intended as a sign of welcome, or simply to warn visitors that the place they were entering was holy, was unclear, but their crude features and roughly formed bodies were unrecognizable as any G.o.ds the Greeks knew, and their lifeless eyes seemed only to offer the visitors hostility.