The Oracles of Troy (The Adventures of Odysseus)

She ran down the steps and back to the open space before the palace. As she had expected, horses and chariots were being prepared for the journey to the ridge. Priam’s golden chariot was standing ready with Idaeus at the rail, his whip in his hand as he waited for the king to arrive. There, too, was Deiphobus’s chariot. The prince stood in front of the horses, patting their necks and talking to them.

‘Take me with you,’ Helen said, running across the trampled dirt of the courtyard and laying her arms around her husband’s neck. ‘I want to see this magnificent horse.’

Deiphobus looked at her a moment, then shook his head.

‘It could be dangerous.’

She smiled playfully, surprising him. ‘Do you think it’ll bite me?’

‘I mean it could be a lure – the bait to draw us into a trap.’

‘Am I any more important than Priam? If the king is going, then surely it’s safe enough for me to go too? Besides, there’s already a troop of cavalry up there – they would have spotted any immediate danger.’ Seeing the doubt in his eyes, she leaned across and kissed him. ‘I promise I’ll stay close to you.’

His gaze wandered over her again. Although she had not received the usual attentions of her maids that morning, her natural beauty was more than powerful enough to break down his resistance. He nodded and helped her up into the chariot.

By the time Priam’s chariot trundled out of the Scaean Gate, followed by two dozen cavalrymen and a collection of other chariots bearing his eldest sons and the commanders of his army, ropes had already been lashed around the hind legs of the wooden horse and hundreds of men were easing it carefully down the slope towards the flat plain before the ford. Here, scores of logs were being laid across the river bed so that the great beast could be pulled across as quickly and safely as possible. The royal procession passed either side of the wooden carpet, sending up sprays of water that shone in the morning sunlight. Helen, who was so rarely permitted beyond the city walls, was revelling in the feel of the unfettered wind on her face and the sense of openness all about her. It was a hint of the freedom she would enjoy if the war ended, and in her heart she called out to Aphrodite to lead one side or the other to victory soon. She cared little whether it was the Greeks or the Trojans, so long as it allowed her to escape the claustrophobia of city life and gain the liberty she had been denied for ten years.

As they crossed the wide meadows that were still bruised and trampled from the battles of the early summer, a series of commands echoed over the plain and the men on the ropes eased the great horse to a halt. It had reached level ground and would need to be pulled the rest of the way to the ford, but the officer in charge had seen the approaching chariots and ordered his teams to rest and regain their strength. As they came closer, Helen saw that the mounted officer was Apheidas.

‘My lord,’ he said, dipping his head a little as Priam’s chariot pulled up.

The king stepped down and walked past Apheidas towards the wooden horse, stopping a few paces short of the towering structure. The other chariots clattered to a halt and the cavalry formed a crescent behind them, while the assortment of princes and nobles dismounted and gathered behind Priam, their mouths open and eyes staring up in bewilderment and wonder. Deiphobus took Helen’s hand and shouldered his way through the others to stand at his father’s side.

‘What in Zeus’s name is it?’ Priam asked.

Apheidas nodded towards the opposite flank of the horse.

‘There’s an inscription.’

Priam moved in a wide circle to the other side of the structure, as if afraid to come too close to it. At the same time he held the palm of his hand up to the others, forbidding them to follow. Helen watched him as he fell beneath the long shadow of the horse on the western side, his old eyes narrowing as they searched for the inscription, found it and struggled to read what it said.

‘It’s in Greek,’ he announced with a hint of frustration. ‘I can speak the damned language, to a degree, but it’s a long time since I’ve read it. Helen, come here girl and decipher it for me.’

‘Go on,’ Deiphobus urged, sensing her reluctance. He released her hand and nudged her in the back. ‘It won’t bite you.’

Helen passed under the high head of the horse, not daring to take her eyes from it as she crossed to stand beside Priam. The inscription was carved in sizeable letters from the front shoulder to the hind leg. Silently, she mouthed the words to herself as she read the once-familiar characters of her mother tongue. Then their meaning became clear and she felt a cold chill brush down her spine. She glanced at Apheidas, the only other person present who had read the words and understood them. His expression was inscrutable.

‘What does it say?’ Priam urged. ‘Read it out.’

Helen read it in Greek first, then translated into the Trojan tongue.