The Oracles of Troy (The Adventures of Odysseus)

‘A gift from the Greeks to the goddess Athena, dedicated in grateful anticipation of a safe journey home.’

She felt Priam’s hand take her elbow, his bony fingers gripping the flesh tightly for support. Reacting quickly, she put her arm about his waist and bore his weight as he slumped against her. Nobody seemed to notice. Eyes that had been staring in awe at the wooden horse were now frozen with doubt, understanding the words of the inscription but unable to accept what they implied.

‘Then is it over?’ Priam asked in a frail voice.

Helen took his hand in hers and squeezed it.

‘I don’t know.’

Deiphobus wiped his palm over his face and staggered across the grass to stand beside his wife. He looked at the carved words, reassured himself that Helen had not lied, and allowed a smile to touch the corners of his mouth.

‘They’ve gone home. The Greeks have given up.’ Turning to the teams of men sitting by their ropes, he raised his arms in the air and lifted his face to the heavens. ‘Praise the gods, we’ve won!’

Slowly, the lines of soldiers climbed to their feet and stared at the horse. A single voice cheered. Others joined it, then more, until the morning air was filled with their shouting. The crowd of princes and nobles followed with wild cries of jubilation, forgetting the differences in their ranks and openly embracing each other. A handful of cavalrymen defied discipline and galloped off in the direction of the Scaean Gate, yelling with joy as they went to spread the news to the city. Helen laid her hand on her chest, which was rising and falling rapidly. She could hardly believe it. A feeling of elation flooded through her body and again she felt the shock of what it meant chilling her flesh and bringing her skin out in goosebumps. Then her gaze fell on Deiphobus and the knowledge that she would be his forever checked her excitement, darkening her thoughts and turning her limbs to stone. Now it was Priam’s turn to catch her as the sudden heaviness in her muscles threatened to pull her to the ground.

‘Deiphobus, look to your wife,’ he commanded. Then, as his son passed his arm beneath Helen’s shoulder, the king turned to Apheidas and lowered his voice. ‘Send a patrol to the Greek camp, at once.’

‘Aeneas is already there, my lord. We rode out to inspect this thing at dawn and as soon as we read the inscription he insisted on taking a troop of cavalry to see for himself. He should be returning at any moment.’

‘What about our spies in their camp? Have we heard anything from them?’

‘Nothing for several days, which is strange in itself. They’re mostly slaves, though; if the Greeks really have left, they might have taken our spies with them.’

Priam nodded and turned back to Helen.

‘Can you stand? I’ll have Idaeus take you back to the city in my chariot.’

‘No, thank you Father. I was just … taken aback.’

Helen forced herself upright and stepped free of Deiphobus’s arms. The prince gave her a questioning look, as if guessing her thoughts, but she turned her eyes away and stared up at the horse. At that angle, its blank eyes seemed mocking and its bared teeth appeared to be smiling, laughing even.

‘Father, the war’s over,’ Deiphobus declared. ‘We should parade the horse through the streets of the city, show the people the siege has ended and Troy has won.’

‘We don’t know the siege has ended,’ Apheidas countered. ‘Besides, Deiphobus, how do you plan on getting it through the gates when the damned thing is taller than the city walls?’

‘We’ll knock them down if we have to!’

‘Silence!’ Priam ordered. ‘As long as I’m still king, I will decide what we do with the horse. And we won’t do anything until I know what’s happened to the Greeks.’

Apheidas commanded his soldiers to sit down again and the snap in his tone brought a sudden end to the euphoric atmosphere. Priam’s sons and the commanders of Troy’s army moved round the horse to see its inscription for themselves, discussing it in quiet tones while Priam, Apheidas and Deiphobus strolled out of earshot to carry on their debate. Helen walked over to the horse and laid a hand on one of its forelegs. The wood had been carefully crafted to a smooth finish and was strangely warm to the touch. She pulled her hand back in surprise, then turned in response to a clamour rising up from the city. The Scaean Gate had swung open and hundreds of people were issuing out of it. But unlike the exoduses of the past ten years, this was not an army going forth to battle but a crowd of ordinary citizens. Word had reached the men, women and children of the city and now, with triumphant songs and shouts of delight, they were coming to see the wooden horse for themselves.

Before the vanguard had crossed the ford, though, Idaeus gave a shout and pointed in the opposite direction. Approaching across the plain, pursued by a small cloud of dust, were two horsemen, galloping as fast as their mounts could carry them.

‘How many men did Aeneas take with him?’ Helen heard Priam’s voice asking behind her, his tone urgent.