The Gates Of Troy Part 22

'We've come for Iphigenia,' Talthybius interposed, staring disdainfully at Clytaemnestra, who he knew did everything in her power to make his master's life insufferable. 'She's to be married to Achilles at Aulis, before the fleet sails for Troy.'

The queen's eyes narrowed quizzically and she turned to Eperitus.

'Is this true, Eperitus? At least I know I can trust you.'

Eperitus nodded.

'But she's nine,' Clytaemnestra protested through gritted teeth, turning her dark eyes back to Odysseus. 'And Achilles is already married with a child of his own.'

The king shrugged sympathetically.

'Achilles and Deidameia were never married in the official sense, before a priest and with all the appropriate sacrifices. And as for Iphigenia's age, what can I say? It'll be a political marriage, of course, so that Agamemnon can be a.s.sured of Achilles's support for the campaign against Troy. Nothing else matters as far as your husband is concerned. But don't be too hasty to condemn it,' Odysseus added, holding up his large hands and smiling amicably at the queen. 'I know it doesn't sound like the sort of arrangement a loving mother would want for her daughter, but if you see it the way I do then it will be nothing more than a minor inconvenience.'

'That depends on what you regard as a minor inconvenience?' Clytaemnestra said, eyeing Odysseus with suspicion.

'Most importantly, Achilles may be prepared to marry Iphigenia to show political goodwill to Agamemnon, but he won't have any interest in consummating his marriage to a nine-year-old. The word in the camp is that he and Patroclus share a bed, but I'm certain his s.e.xual tastes don't extend to little girls. Then, after the wedding ceremony is over the fleet will sail to Troy and Iphigenia will return home to Mycenae, married but with her child's innocence intact. And while she's safe with you, Achilles will meet his doom before the walls of Troy his own mother has predicted that much so Iphigenia will become a widow and everyone will be happy.'

'Except Achilles, of course,' Clytaemnestra replied, wryly. 'The truth is, Odysseus, I don't trust Agamemnon where my daughter is concerned he has never paid her any mind before and it seems strange that he should do so now. Your argument has its merits, though, and if there is nothing beneath what you say then I will give urgent attention to my husband's request. But it's late and we're all tired; I need to think this over and consult the G.o.ds. Until then, you and your men are welcome to enjoy Mycenae and all its pleasures.'

As she spoke her eyes touched on Eperitus. Odysseus noticed the glance.

'How soon will you let us know your decision, Clytaemnestra?' he asked firmly. 'You know Agamemnon doesn't like to be kept waiting.'

'Before the week is out,' she promised, rising from her chair. 'And you're to say nothing to Iphigenia, or anybody else, about this marriage until I say so. Goodnight, my lords.'

The queen turned and crossed the room to a side entrance, her black chiton blending with the shadows as she moved.

Chapter Twenty-two.

HELEN OF TROY.

A dozen guards stood by the Scaean Gate and a dozen more on the battlements above, their armour gleaming like silver in the moonlight. Helen gripped the chariot's handrail and put an arm around Pleisthenes's shoulders as Paris spurred the black horses on towards the city, eager to see his home again after so long. Beside them Apheidas and Aeneas urged their mounts to keep up with the prince.

'They've doubled the guard,' Apheidas shouted as the wind tore at his hair and threw his cloak out behind him.

Paris laughed and lashed his whip harder across the backs of the horses. 'It's a guard of honour for my return. They must have got news that we were on our way.'

'Then why are they forming a defensive line?' Aeneas yelled from the opposite side of the chariot. 'Slow down, Paris. There are archers on the walls and if they don't recognize us they'll fire.'

Helen looked in alarm at the line of men by the gates, their tall, rectangular s.h.i.+elds planted firmly in the soil and their long spears levelled at the chests of the approaching horses. A dozen more soldiers were rus.h.i.+ng out from the gates and making a second line behind them.

'Paris,' she hissed, placing her hand on his arm. 'Slow down, my love. You'll be home soon enough.'

Paris looked at the concern in her eyes and nodded. 'Whoaaa!' he yelled, pulling back the ox-hide reins. 'Whoaaa, there. Slow down, girls. Slow down.'

The gold-covered chariot slowed to a trundle and the two riders on either side reined in their mounts to fall in beside it. Helen and Pleisthenes relaxed their grip on the handrail and looked at the wall of soldiers, whose spears were still levelled at them. The Spartan queen or former queen, as she now regarded herself looked in awe at the high ramparts with the spike-filled ditch below and the imposing guard towers that overlooked the plain all around. Paris had not exaggerated when he had said they would be safe inside his father's city. Even if Menelaus should be supported by his brother and come after her with the combined armies of Sparta and Mycenae, they would never prise her out of Troy. For the first time in weeks, she began to feel safe in her new life. Soon, she and Paris would be married and would live in the house he had promised to build for them.

'Is this our new home?' asked Pleisthenes, his tired eyes wide as he looked at the splendid battlements and the rows of exotically armed warriors. The limestone walls shone white and smoke trails rose from the city into the star-littered sky. 'Are we really going to live here?'

'Yes, son,' Paris answered, scruffing his hair with his large hand. 'This is Troy, city of the G.o.ds, and from now on we must all speak the language of the Trojans. You and your mother have been good pupils, but now's the time to test your learning. You'll find very few people who speak Greek here.'

'Who's that?' called a voice from the rank of soldiers. 'Name yourself and your purpose.'

'Don't you know me yet, Deiphobus?' Paris replied. 'After all, we share the same father and mother.'

'Paris? By the G.o.ds of Mount Ida, it is you!'

A short youth with long black hair left the line of soldiers he had been commanding and ran towards the chariot, holding his hands towards the team of horses.

'You've been gone an age,' he said, peering up at Paris from between the heads of the black mares, as if to be sure it really was his older brother. 'There've been all sorts of rumours about you and . . .'

At that moment, Deiphobus's eyes fell upon Helen and his words faltered.

'This is Helen, formerly of Sparta, now of Troy,' Paris announced. 'She's to be my wife.'

Helen smiled at the lad, pleased her beauty was as powerful a weapon against Trojan men as it had been against Greeks. She sensed she would need it in the coming days, if the people of Paris's city were to welcome her.

'Then the stories are true,' Deiphobus said, as if to himself. 'Welcome to Troy, my lady. I'm pleased we are to become brother and sister; to be able to look at such beauty every day is more than any man could hope for.'

'Thank you, Deiphobus. If all Trojans welcome me thus, I will find happiness here,' Helen replied haltingly, the harsh-sounding words strange but satisfying as she heard herself speak them. She had never known any language other than Greek and it excited her to pluck the correct Trojan words from her memory and arrange them in her mind before conveying them to her lips. In time, she expected that both she and Pleisthenes would think and speak fluently in their new language.

Deiphobus bowed low before her, revealing the back of his suntanned neck. This amused Helen, who was not used to seeing such gestures of subordination from the obstinate Greeks.

'See, Helen,' said Apheidas, 'the gates of Troy have already fallen to you. Now we must see what waits inside.'

He trotted towards the line of spearmen and ordered them to one side; each man's eyes were upon the woman in Paris's chariot as it rolled past. Helen, who was used to the stares of men, ignored the attention and looked through the approaching gateway at the upward-sloping street and its closely packed houses. The gateway walls echoed as they pa.s.sed between them and out into the cool night air again.

So this was Troy, she thought to herself. Large, impressive and asleep. The streets that branched off the main route were all empty and few lights burned in the windows. Part of her wished they had arrived in the daylight, when the whole city would be able to rejoice at Paris's return and marvel at the beauty of the woman he had brought back with him. Commoners and slaves were easily won over by her looks, she had always found, and if she had been able to gain the approval of the rabble Priam may have felt unable to rebuff his son's choice of wife. That had become her greatest fear, to be rejected and forced to return to Sparta. Paris had a.s.sured her no such thing could happen, and if it did he would sooner turn his back on Troy forever and live with her on an obscure island, far beyond the reach of Menelaus. But Helen knew the ways of politics better than he did: Menelaus may have already visited Troy and persuaded, bribed or cajoled Priam into returning his wife to him. Something in Deiphobus's words at the gate, along with the strong guard there, made her suspect that her arrival would come as no surprise to the old king.

And yet she was glad they had not hurried to Troy. Instead of sailing into the large bay before the city, they had landed on the beach opposite Tenedos, intending to make their way overland so that Helen could get a taste of the rich and beautiful country she hoped would become her home. After disembarking the chariot and finding a team of horses, Paris ordered the crew to wait a day before sailing home so that news of their arrival would not precede them before setting off at a leisurely pace with Apheidas and Aeneas for company. Under cloudless skies they drove between wide fields of corn and barley, the chariot b.u.mping and jogging over the pitted cart tracks. Little Pleisthenes constantly called his mother's attention to each new sight he saw, from the herds of wild horses that roamed the plains to the unfamiliar flowers that dotted the roadsides. After a while they reached a town where the market square was too crowded for them to pa.s.s through. Dismounting, they had forged their way through crowds of spectators to a cleared area where hundreds of youths were dancing together to the music of a lyre. The girls had on their finest dresses with garlands woven into their hair, and the young men wore close-fitting tunics and had rubbed oil into their brown skin. They stepped lightly around each other, the maidens resting their hands on their partners' wrists as they circled smoothly and kept time with the music. The soft shuffle of their dancing feet was too much for Helen, and taking Paris's hand she joined the lines of simple peasants and felt again the wonder of being young. And as she danced the crowds looked on in awe, believing a G.o.ddess had graced them with her presence. But her smile and her flowing black hair also filled them with joy as she danced late into the evening, Paris always at her side, until Apheidas had reminded them of the need to press on.

Another wall rose in front of them as they climbed the road through the city, pierced by another gateway. Beside it, a pale tower loomed upwards into the night sky, crowned by the white moon. They pa.s.sed the strange idols that stood in a line at its base and continued through the gate to Pergamos, Apheidas and Aeneas lowering their heads to clear the low archway as the hooves of their mounts echoed around them. On the other side Helen stared in wonder at the richly decorated buildings, which cried aloud the wealth and self-importance of the city. It all looked so alien and exotic, making her feel both afraid and excited at the same time. More than ever she realized there could be no return to her old life now; she had cut all but one of her anchor stones, and only Pleisthenes was left to remind her of the woman she had once been. Paris, noticing her wide eyes, placed his hand on her wrist and smiled at her.

'Won't be long now. You'll like the old man, and I know he'll like you. He'll be angry at first, of course, but that'll be at me, not you. He'll curse me for failing to bring his sister back, and then when he learns I've brought a Greek queen with me he'll probably threaten to cut my head off and send it to Menelaus. But he'll forgive me sooner or later, if only for the sake of your beauty. Which reminds me, you should lower your veil.'

Helen had always hated veils and thought them demeaning. They also took away her greatest weapon. But this was a foreign land and she trusted Paris's judgement, so she unhooked the thin material from her hair and pulled it over her face, leaving only a faint impression of her perfect features visible through the gauze.

They reached the ramp to the final level of the city, where the marble columns of Priam's palace could be seen s.h.i.+ning in the moonlight. Apheidas had ridden ahead and informed the guards of Paris's approach, so they were unhindered as the prince spurred his horses up the slope to the terrace above. Here the chariot slowed to a halt and Paris threw the reins to Aeneas before jumping down.

Helen looked at the ornately decorated walls and the many alcoves with their painted figurines of different G.o.ds, but her appreciation was cut short by voices coming from the threshold of the palace. She turned to see an old man crossing the terrace towards them. He was tall with long black hair and a handsome, but ageing, face; his pace was unhurried, but his long legs brought him towards them at speed, his purple gown flowing behind him. Hurrying at his side was an equally old woman, her short, plump body covered by a thin dress of what might have been a light green hue, though Helen found it impossible to tell the colour in the achromatic moonlight. She was wagging her finger at the old man and speaking with a fluidity that Helen's understanding could not follow, only stopping as they reached the chariot.

'Father,' Paris said, stepping forward and embracing the old man. 'How did you know I was here?'

'I'm the king,' Priam answered, placing his hands on his son's shoulders and staring into his eyes. 'Even the birds of the sky are required to tell me what is going on in my realm. But if you must know, King Tenes informed me over a week ago that you were under his roof, and this morning he sent another message to let me know you had landed on the bay opposite his island and were travelling overland by chariot.'

Paris leaned across and kissed his mother on both cheeks, which were wet with tears at the sight of her son.

'We've missed you, my dear,' she smiled. 'Or I have missed you, at least. Your father has done nothing but curse your name, ever since he heard you'd abandoned the mission he sent you on and brought back a foreigner.'

Paris turned to his father. 'Then Tenes told you about Helen also?'

'I heard long before he informed me,' Priam answered, looking up at the tall woman standing aloof and motionless in the golden chariot. 'Tenes only confirmed what I had already been told, though previously I had struggled to believe the news that had been brought to me.'

'Brought by whom, my lord?' asked Apheidas, bowing low before the king. Both he and Aeneas had handed their horses to slaves and now stood at Paris's shoulder.

'Ah, Apheidas. It is a comfort to have you back at Troy. Your prowess in battle may be called upon before long. But in answer to your question, a Greek emba.s.sy arrived several weeks back claiming you, Paris, had taken the queen of Sparta against her will.'

'That's a lie!'

'Silence!' Priam shouted, clenching his fists by his side. A moment later he was calm again. 'This is not a debating chamber, Paris, and you will not interrupt me until I have finished. The king of Sparta himself sat in my hall, along with Odysseus of Ithaca and Palamedes the Nauplian, threatening war if this woman' Priam nodded towards Helen 'was not returned immediately. Unfortunately for Menelaus, you had not yet returned and I knew nothing of your antics in Greece; as their tone grew more bullying I'm afraid I lost my patience with them and had them returned to their s.h.i.+p. Since then, however, my blood has cooled and I have had time to think. Though a Greek, King Odysseus spoke wisely and reminded us that it is an offence against the G.o.ds to steal a man's wife. So the matter now lies with you, my child.'

The king looked at Helen and offered her his hand. She took it and stepped down from the chariot.

'I do not know you, Helen, queen of Sparta, and my heart wishes you had never come to Troy. But here you are, and now our fate rests in your hands. It is in my power to send you back to your husband and prevent this war. If I do I may break my son's heart, but I will save many lives, both Trojan and Greek. But I will ask you one question, and if your answer satisfies my sense of honour and justice, then you can remain here and the walls of Troy and the blood of her sons will have to bear the consequences. Tell me, did Paris take you from Sparta by force, or did you come of your own free will?'

Paris had said he would tell her to remove the veil when the time was right. But Helen did not need to be told that the time had come, and lifting the veil from her face she looked Priam in the eye.

'Sir, I came here by choice. I was forced to leave three children behind in Sparta, because their father had taken them with him to Crete. But I was prepared to sacrifice them because of my love for your son.'

Priam stared at the incomparable face and his heart melted.

'That is the answer I was dreading, daughter. But now that I look on you, I know that I could never have sent you back to Menelaus, whatever your reply had been.' He leaned forward and embraced her with warmth and respect for her beauty. 'Now you must go with my wife, Hecabe. She will show you to your quarters. You are to come with me, Paris. It may be late, but Hector and I want to discuss the consequences of what you have done. You too, Apheidas.'

'And me, my lord?' asked Aeneas, as Priam turned with Paris and Apheidas at his shoulders.

'No, not you,' Priam answered without looking back.

Helen saw the young man scowl at the departing king, then turn and kick a stone halfway across the terrace.

'Will you bring Pleisthenes, Aeneas?' Helen asked, as Hecabe walked over and hooked an arm through her elbow. 'Please?'

Aeneas gave a surly nod and lifted the sleeping child from the gleaming chariot, before following the two women as they crossed the courtyard at a diagonal to the king.

'Poor lad,' said Hecabe without looking at Aeneas. 'Priam treats him like one of the dogs that lick up the sc.r.a.ps from beneath his table.'

'But isn't he the son of a king?'

'Yes: his father is Anchises, king of the Dardanians. Aeneas is kept here to ensure Anchises's loyalty, though the lad still has the freedom to come and go as he pleases.'

'Then why is he treated so badly?'

'Most think it's because Priam disdains any royalty that is not purely Trojan,' Hecabe said. 'But I know it has nothing to do with that. The old man's simply jealous because Aeneas's father slept with Aphrodite. Priam has always prided himself on the number and beauty of his lovers, you see, but he's never had the pleasure of the G.o.ddess.'

Helen was shocked at Hecabe's indifference on the matter.

'Doesn't it bother you?' she asked. 'That your husband has had so many lovers, I mean.'

'Not at all,' the old woman responded, pus.h.i.+ng open a side door to the palace. 'He's the king, and the king does as he pleases. The more wives he has, the more sons there are fifty at the last count and the more sons there are, the stronger his base of power. He also uses marriage to secure ties beyond the walls of Troy.'

They entered a torch-lit corridor with a flight of stone steps to one side. Two women were sitting on a wooden bench and rose to their feet as Hecabe and Helen appeared, with Aeneas behind them.

'Take Leothoe here,' Hecabe continued, indicating the shorter of the two women. 'She is the daughter of King Altes of the Leleges. Her father married her to Priam to seal an alliance between our two states. Now, if the Greeks are foolish enough to come after you, King Altes will be obliged to bring his army to our aid.'

Leothoe stepped forward and bowed. She was no older than Helen and had a face and body that would be the envy of most women.

'Welcome, Helen,' she said, her voice light and leaving almost no impression. 'I'm sorry you've been brought so far from your home. It must be difficult for you.'

'I came freely,' Helen replied.

'Such beauty,' said the other woman, reaching out and touching Helen's cheek as if to a.s.sure herself she was real. 'You must have the blood of a G.o.d in your veins. I am Andromache, daughter of King Eetion of the Cilicians. My brother is a friend of Hector and brought me here to see the marvels of Troy.'

'Then this is your first time here, too?' Helen asked, looking at the tall, black-haired woman before her. Her face was beautiful and intelligent, though tinged with sadness.

'Yes. My home is Thebe, beneath the wooded slopes of Mount Placus. It's a lovely city, but very plain compared with Troy.'

'I've asked Leothoe and Andromache to help you get used to the palace,' Hecabe said. 'They'll show you to your rooms and make you feel at home. They'll also teach you our customs and help you learn our language, although Paris already seems to have taught you much.'

Helen took Pleisthenes from Aeneas's arms and wished him and Hecabe a goodnight, before following Leothoe and Andromache up the steps.

'Thank you both,' she said. 'I hope we can be good friends.'

'I hope so too,' said Andromache. 'Though I fear that great suffering will follow in your wake, for all Trojan women.'

Chapter Twenty-three.

IPHIGENIA.

'Do you think she'll agree to the wedding?' Eperitus asked.

He stood in the middle of the courtyard, looking up at the humped shape of the mountain behind the great hall. The early morning sun was still hidden behind its black bulk, but the sky above glowed like heated bronze. A few purple clouds scudded through the fiery skies, their bellies transformed to gold by the hidden dawn.

'I think I've convinced her there's nothing to be lost by allowing the marriage,' Odysseus replied, biting into the barley cake he had brought with him from the breakfast table. 'The problem is whether she believes that's the real reason why Agamemnon wants his daughter to go to Aulis.'

'But if the marriage is just an excuse, do you think Clytaemnestra knows what Agamemnon really wants Iphigenia for?'

'Shhh,' Odysseus said, nodding towards the sentries at the threshold of the great hall and giving his friend a wink. 'Come with me.'