The Oracles of Troy (The Adventures of Odysseus)

‘No Greek will ever be allowed through the Scaean Gate, but beggars come and go as they please. These rags are how I’ll get past the guards, and once I’m in I’ll lower a rope over the walls so you can join me, Diomedes.’

‘We’ll come, too,’ Euryalus declared.

Odysseus shook his head.

‘Agamemnon gave the task to Diomedes and myself. Besides, the more there are of us the more risk there is we’ll get caught.’ He turned his green eyes on Diomedes. ‘Hide yourself on the banks of the Simöeis until dark. I’ll wave a light from the walls – five times from left to right and back again – to show where I’ve tied the rope.’

‘What rope?’

Odysseus pulled back his robes and the folds of his baggy tunic to reveal the rope he had wound several times around his waist.

‘The walls on the far side of the city are lightly guarded,’ he continued, ‘and once you’re over them you’ll be inside Pergamos itself. We can find our way to the temple of Athena, steal the Palladium and be back out before dawn.’

‘Zeus’s beard, I think it might even work,’ Diomedes said with a grin, excited by the prospect of danger and the glory that came with it.

‘There’s one other thing I need to do while we’re there, though,’ Odysseus said. ‘I need to find out whether Eperitus was taken prisoner.’

The others looked at each other doubtfully.

‘He charged a company of Trojan cavalry alone,’ Sthenelaus said. ‘He’s dead.’

‘I spent the whole day searching for his body among the slain,’ Odysseus replied sternly. ‘He wasn’t there! And though some say they saw him shot by an archer as he rode at Apheidas, until I see his corpse and know his ghost has departed for the Underworld I won’t give up looking for him. He’s my friend, and he would have done the same for me.’

‘There’s a chance the Trojans took him,’ Diomedes said, though sceptically. ‘And if they did, they’ll accept a ransom for his release – or we can set him free when we take the city. But that won’t happen until we’ve stolen the Palladium. That has to be our priority, Odysseus, especially if we ever want to see our wives and families again.’

Odysseus did not need to be told the urgency of their mission.

‘Then we should go now. Take the whip and strike me again.’

Diomedes frowned.

‘We’ve given you enough rough treatment already, for which I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be. I provoked you to it, and it was necessary to make people believe my disguise; but the Trojans have eyes in the Greek camp and unless you want to arouse suspicion then you must continue to treat me as a vagabond and thief. Once you’ve made a display of driving me off you can return to your tent, but make sure you leave unnoticed again after sunset. And don’t forget to bring my sword with you.’

Diomedes hesitated for a moment, then raised the whip over his head and struck Odysseus on the shoulders. He yelped with pain and loudly accused the Argive king of being a whore’s son, earning himself another lash across the lower back. And so it continued until the beggar was out of sight and the guards at the gate had already forgotten his existence.

Chapter Twenty-seven

AN ULTIMATUM

Wake up.’

Eperitus opened his eyes a fraction before the palm of a hand struck him across his cheek, whipping his head to one side. Snatched from a dream about the Greek camp, in which Astynome was once more his lover, his senses struggled to grasp hold of something that would bring him back to reality and tell him where he was. The stench of burning fat pricked at his nostrils and he could hear the hiss of a single torch. By its wavering light he could see he was in a small, unfamiliar room, the corners of which were piled up with large sacks – probably of barley, judging by the smell. He was seated in a hard wooden chair, but when he tried to move he discovered he was bound by several cords of flax that wrapped around his abdomen and pinned his arms uselessly at his sides. He blinked and stared at the face of the man who had hit him – a face he did not know – then suddenly remembered he was a prisoner in Troy, alone and far away from the help of his friends.

‘Who in Hades are you?’ he demanded, reviving quickly from his slumber and looking around at what appeared to be a windowless storeroom.

The man did not answer, but beckoned impatiently to two armed warriors standing by the door.

‘Untie him.’

The men knelt either side of him and picked at the cords holding him to the chair, while the first man drew his sword and waved the point menacingly at his stomach.

‘Don’t even think about trying to escape,’ he warned.

‘What do you want with me?’