The Oracles of Troy (The Adventures of Odysseus)

‘At least twenty,’ Apheidas answered.

Then the Greeks are still here, Helen thought. The patrol was massacred and these riders are all that remain of them!

The two horses reached them within moments, drawing up sharply in the shadow of the great wooden horse. Both men leapt from the saddle and ran towards Apheidas. Then, seeing Priam standing beside their commander, they knelt and lowered their heads before the king.

‘What news?’ Priam demanded. ‘Were you ambushed? Did that fool Aeneas lead you into a trap?’

The riders exchanged glances.

‘No, my lord. Aeneas sent us back to tell you the Greek camp has been abandoned. Their ships have all gone and they’ve burned their huts. Aeneas has remained with the rest of the patrol to carry out a search of what’s left.’

Priam trembled and Helen stepped forward, fearing he would faint again. To her surprise, he waved her back and reached down to the rider who had spoken, pulling him to his feet and embracing him. He kissed the surprised cavalryman on both cheeks, then held him at arm’s length and looked into his eyes.

‘What’s your name, man?’

‘Peteos, my lord.’

‘Peteos, I declare you a messenger of the gods. And for bringing me this news I promote you here and now to the royal guard. Long may you serve me and my successors.’

The astonished soldier bowed low and backed away to rejoin his envious comrade, while the king turned to look up at the horse.

‘Apheidas,’ he shouted, cheerfully, ‘get your men back on those ropes and tell them to drag this monstrosity to the walls. Deiphobus, take some horsemen and ride to the city. I want the battlements over the Scaean Gate knocked down so we can bring it inside. We’ll honour the inscription and dedicate it to Athena, as a replacement for the Palladium that was stolen. It will stand forever as a monument to the brave men of Ilium, and above all to the courage of Hector, the stalwart of Troy!’

And what of Paris? Helen thought. Had he given his life for nothing? Worse still, would the people of Troy forget his bravery, remembering him only for bringing the curse of war down upon them? Such a legacy had been his greatest fear, and the sadness of it was deepened by the fact that victory had come so soon after his death. If he had survived a little longer – been less reckless in his desire to overcome his guilt – they would have been free to spend the rest of their days together, their love unfettered by the ambitions of power-hungry men. But the jealous gods had preferred to deny them their happiness, condemning Paris to the forgetfulness of Hades and leaving Helen with little more than a fading memory of the man for whom she had sacrificed everything.

Deiphobus mounted a horse and led a handful of riders in the direction of the ford, keen to carry out his father’s instructions. As Helen watched him leave, Priam called to her from his chariot.

‘Helen, come up here with me. I’m going to announce our victory to my people and I want you at my side. Let them see what they’ve been fighting for, and let them know that you were worth every sacrifice.’

His moment of elation had passed and she knew he was being earnest. And if she, like the wooden horse, was to be paraded as a trophy of war, then so be it. She walked over and accepted his outstretched hand, stepping up beside him. With a flick of his whip, Idaeus sent the horses forward at a gentle trot. Behind them they could hear the grunts of the men at the ropes as they took the strain once more and began to pull the giant horse towards the ford.

The chariot had only travelled a short distance across the meadows before it slowed to a halt in front of the crowd coming up from the city. As one, they fell to their knees and bowed low before their king. Only one figure remained standing in their midst, a girl dressed all in black. Priam stared at Cassandra for a moment, but chose to ignore her impertinence and signalled for the rest to stand.

‘Behold the symbol of your victory!’ he declared. ‘At last, my people, the day has come. The Greeks have gone! The war is over! We have won!’

His words were met with cheers and ecstatic screams, which did not die down until the wooden horse had been brought so close that the rapturous crowd were forced into silence by its grim presence. Then, as they stared at it in awe, a shriek of despair rang out and Cassandra pushed her way through the mass until she stood alone before her father.

‘Fools! The gods have left you blind, stumbling towards your doom with shouts of joy on your lips.’

With tears rolling down her white cheeks and her eyes wide with terror, she seized hold of her robe and pulled at the material until it tore, revealing her pale breasts. Apheidas unclasped his cloak and threw it about the girl’s shoulders, hiding her nakedness.

‘Control yourself,’ the king ordered his daughter. ‘If your gloom must drive you to hysterics, then do it in private and don’t dampen everyone else’s happiness on this great day.’