The Oracles of Troy (The Adventures of Odysseus)

‘You’ll say nothing, Theano. Yes, I know you and you know me. I am Odysseus, king of Ithaca. These are my comrades, Diomedes of Argos and Eperitus, captain of my guard. Eperitus and I were guests of your husband before the war started.’

‘Yes, I remember you now. You were welcome then, especially by Antenor, who has always loved the Greeks. For his sake, I would gladly let you return by whatever way you came into our sacred city, even giving you my sworn oath not to raise the alarm until you were far enough away. Though not with the effigy you have under your arm, Odysseus, not even under the threat of death. Athena is my mistress and the Palladium is sacred to her; if you try to take it I promise you my dying scream will awake the guards outside.’

‘The guards are all dead,’ Odysseus lied. ‘I have no wish that you should join them, but if you try to prevent me taking the Palladium I will not hesitate to cut open your throat. Am I clear? Now, promise me your silence while we escape and I’ll let you live. Make your choice, Theano.’

He raised the point of the blade a fraction so that it pressed against the soft flesh beneath the old woman’s chin, causing her to draw breath sharply. The next moment, the weapon fell from Odysseus’s hand with a loud clang and he stepped back, clutching his hand beneath his armpit and wincing with pain. Eperitus and Diomedes looked at him in confusion, then down at the sword on the flagstones. It was glowing red.

Something else had changed. Sensing danger, Eperitus stepped back and lowered the head of his spear towards the old woman. By now she was standing rigid with her shoulders pulled back and her fingers splayed at her sides. Bright, silvery light was spilling from her eyes and nostrils, filling Eperitus with terror and forcing him to retreat. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Diomedes’s face, his eyes wide with disbelief and shock as he raised his sword over his head and made to bring it down on the priestess. Before the edged metal could touch her, it burst into flames and leapt from the Argive king’s hand to skitter across the floor in blazing circles.

Odysseus and Eperitus dropped their torches and fell back to the plinth where the great statue of Athena stood. Theano had stopped shaking now, but the light continued to pour from her eyes and nostrils so that the three men could only glance at her from behind their raised hands.

‘You know me, Odysseus,’ she said, light streaming from her mouth. But it was no longer the voice of Theano that spoke now. It was the goddess herself. ‘Have I ever failed you or betrayed your trust in me?’

Athena’s anger sent tremors through the floor beneath their feet, and led by Odysseus the warriors fell to their knees before her.

‘And is this how you repay my help? To steal the image of Pallas, my friend, in whose beloved memory it was created?’

Eperitus gave a sidelong glance at the king. Odysseus’s head was hung low, not daring to look at the goddess, but Eperitus could see the guilt and anguish written on his face.

‘I command you to return the statue to its rightful place. If you love and honour me – indeed, if you value my continued patronage and protection, Odysseus – you will do my bidding.’

Odysseus closed his eyes tightly and drew back his lips in an agony of indecision. But the effigy remained beneath his arm, wrapped in the cloak.

‘Answer me!’

‘I cannot, Mistress. I mean, I cannot return the Palladium.’

There was a moment of silence, filled only by the hiss and splutter of the torches. Then Athena spoke again, this time her voice calmer and more gentle.

‘Odysseus, my child. I have watched you and loved you all your life – few mortals have been as precious to me as you are. However, if you leave this temple with the effigy of my friend, that is an affront that I cannot permit to go unpunished. You know that.’

‘My orders come from Agamemnon, my lady, to fulfil an oracle given to us by Helenus. He said that Troy will not fall as long as the Palladium remains in the city.’

‘Curse your stubborn beard, Odysseus. Who do you put your faith in, Apollo or me? How often have prophecies given in his name sown trouble for Greeks and Trojans alike? But my path is wisdom; it is straight and even, and though narrow it leads a man ultimately to his goal. Will you abandon me now?’

‘If the oracle isn’t fulfilled, I might never return to Ithaca. I might never see Penelope or Telemachus again!’

‘You might and you might not, but if you insist on fulfilling this oracle then won’t all other oracles concerning you come true? Will you not doom yourself to a further ten years away from home and family, as the Pythoness predicted when you were a young man? What’s more, persist in this and not only will you lose my protection, Odysseus, you will also risk my wrath! And yet I cannot make your choice for you, so decide now and be damned.’