The Oracles of Troy (The Adventures of Odysseus)

‘I agree,’ Nestor said. ‘It doesn’t take the wisdom of my great years to realise the walls of Troy aren’t going to fall to force alone. But that doesn’t mean the oracles were wrong or the gods were deceiving us. What is this plan of yours?’

Odysseus looked at Agamemnon, who gave a small nod.

‘I sent messengers asking you to come here so that we wouldn’t be overheard, and if you agree to my plan then you must take an oath not to share it with anyone – even your most trusted captains. I’ve had the inklings of a strategy for some time now, but until I went to Pelops’s tomb and saw his sarcophagus I didn’t know how to carry it out. That’s why the gods sent me there – not to obtain a simple bone, but to reveal the one way in which my plan could succeed.’

‘You’re talking in riddles,’ Little Ajax interrupted. ‘How can a tomb help us take Troy?’

‘Eperitus, do you remember what was placed on top of the sarcophagus?’

Eperitus nodded, smiling as he saw the link with the idea Odysseus had already outlined to him.

‘It was a horse.’

‘A horse,’ Odysseus repeated. ‘Because Pelops’s people were renowned horse-lovers, just like the Trojans. That gave me the inspiration to build a great wooden horse, taller than the Scaean Gate, which we will dedicate to Athena in atonement for desecrating her temple, and in the hope she will then give us a safe journey back to Greece. The Trojans won’t be able to resist taking it into their city as a token of their victory.’

‘Victory!’ Menelaus sputtered. ‘Victory?’

The others shared doubtful looks, but remained silent. Agamemnon’s fixed gaze grew colder than ever, but Odysseus just smiled.

‘Naturally. The defeat we’ve just suffered was the final stone on the mound. Didn’t you say the men are openly talking about ending the war and returning to Greece? Now all we need is a good westerly wind and we can strike this camp and board our galleys for home. Or at least, that’s what the Trojans will think when they find it abandoned.’

‘Should we get the men to start the preparations now?’ Nestor asked. He looked bemused – doubtful as to the reason for abandoning their camp after so long, but intrigued at how such a move would bring about the end of the war. ‘After all, there’s hardly been a puff of air over the Aegean for days now – we can’t sail until the winds pick up again.’

‘No,’ Odysseus replied. ‘When we go, it has to look like we’ve left in a hurry – leave the tents and everything that’ll slow us down. In fact, we should burn them. What we can do is get the ships seaworthy and begin the construction of the horse. For that we’ll need Epeius, a man who can work wood better than any of us.’

Agamemnon had had enough. He stood and folded his arms across his breastplate.

‘You seem to assume I’m going to agree to your plan, but nothing I’ve heard so far has shown me how it will bring us victory. Why should we sail home empty handed, after so much strife and bloodshed? And why should we build the Trojans a trophy with which to celebrate our supposed defeat?’

‘It’s as I said: first we must convince our enemies they’ve won. Then, out of apparent defeat will come the victory we have sought for so long. The horse is the key, and if you’ll all sit down I’ll tell you what I have in mind.’

‘And what about him?’ Little Ajax asked, indicating Omeros. ‘If we’re forbidden from saying anything to our own men, why’s this lad allowed to overhear this fabulous scheme of yours?’

Odysseus stared at Eperitus’s squire and gave a self-satisfied grin.

‘Because Omeros is essential to the plan. You see, after Agamemnon has announced we’re returning to Greece, Calchas is going to prophesy that the gods will deny us even a breath of wind unless we offer them a human sacrifice. And since I’ve discovered that Omeros has been plotting against me, I’ve decided he will be that sacrifice.’

BOOK

FOUR

Chapter Thirty-four

THE WOODEN HORSE

Helen awoke with a feeling of expectancy. The dawn light was barely filtering through the curtains when she threw aside her blankets and called for her maids. Sitting at the edge of her bed, she wondered what it was that felt so different. There were no new sounds drifting in through the window, nor could she smell anything out of the ordinary that might be warning her senses. If something had altered in the world, then she had sensed it from within: a gut feeling that told her the day was going to be unlike any other.