The Oracles of Troy (The Adventures of Odysseus)

‘Still hankering to be a king? Even one subservient to the Greeks you hate so much? Well, things have changed since we last met. There’s a new oracle and Troy won’t fall until it’s fulfilled, not even if you throw the gates wide open and let the whole Greek army inside.’

Now it was Apheidas’s turn to be amused, and he looked at his son with a broad smile.

‘Obviously you’re referring to Helenus’s visions,’ he said.

Eperitus’s laughter ceased and he stared at his father.

‘How could you know about that? Helenus said he hadn’t revealed the oracles to anyone in Troy.’

‘He hadn’t – except to me. Now, let me think: I already know you’ve found Achilles’s son, Neoptolemus, and I guess you must have retrieved Pelops’s shoulder bone by now. Which just leaves the Palladium, doesn’t it. The last key to Troy.’

Eperitus watched as his father raised the water-skin to his lips and took a mouthful of liquid. There was something triumphal about the movement, and this time he did not offer a drink to his son.

‘So, are you ready to listen yet? Threats only work on cowards, and you’re no coward, but maybe I can offer you something we will all profit by: the choice between certain victory for the Greeks or war without end. Would you prefer to return home with your friends before the end of the year, or to remain in that squalid camp until you die of old age, while the kingdoms of Greece succumb to bandits and invaders?’

‘I won’t help you fulfil your vile ambitions, Father,’ Eperitus replied, obstinately. ‘The only thing you can offer me in exchange for the dishonour and pain you’ve brought me is your life. Give me that and I’ll gladly take your message to Agamemnon.’

‘You have the stubbornness of a mule and wits to match, but here’s the choice anyway: help me and I’ll give you the Palladium to take to Agamemnon; refuse and I will not only throw you into that pit behind you, but I will tell Priam the Greeks are planning to steal Troy’s most precious lump of wood. After that, the Palladium will be so well hidden no Greek will ever be able to steal it, and then the walls of Troy will never succumb.’

Eperitus stared at his father and knew he meant what he said. The choice he had given him was stark: being cast into a pit of snakes with any hope of the Greeks stealing the Palladium gone forever; or receiving his freedom and seeing the final oracle fulfilled with a speed and ease that none could have hoped for, leading the way to victory and an end to the war. But his father would also succeed in his ambition, sealing for eternity Eperitus’s shame and dishonour. He closed his eyes in despair and let his chin sink onto his chest. He could not have known that Priam had already heard the oracle from Cassandra’s lips and had not believed a word of it. Neither could he have guessed that Apheidas was bluffing, else he might have felt less despondent.

‘Even if you say no, Son,’ his father said, ‘I won’t reveal your plans to Priam until I have no other option. Perhaps Astynome would be a better messenger; I understand Agamemnon wanted her for himself when she first visited the Greek camp, so if I offered her as a gift it might convince him my offer is genuine. Either way, the choice is yours: death for you and defeat for the Greeks, or life, victory and a swift journey back home. I’ll return for your answer tomorrow morning.’

The Scaean Gate, which had witnessed the deaths of Hector, Achilles and Paris, was firmly shut and no amount of pounding or calling for the guards would open it. When a soldier stood on top of the battlements and urinated on him, Odysseus realised he was wasting his time and followed the circuit of the walls eastward to the Dardanian Gate, praying to Athena as he walked. He reached Troy’s second great entrance and beat the flat of his hand against its sun-baked beams. Again there was no answer. Eventually, and after all his attempts to gain the attention of the guards had proven futile, he sat down beneath the cooling shade of its walls and looked out over the plain at the blue, distant mountains, trying to think how he might enter. Though he was widely credited as the most intelligent and cunning of the Greeks, especially by those who were closest to him, Odysseus’s schemes were rarely thought out in any detail. Often he would begin with a good idea then rely on his wits – and the help of the gods – to see it through to a successful conclusion. This was destined to be one of those occasions.