The Oracles of Troy (The Adventures of Odysseus)

‘Great day?’ Cassandra echoed. ‘For whom? Not for Troy. Not for your house, Father! This symbol of victory you boast about is a harbinger of death. It carries with it the doom of Troy. Burn it! Burn it now, while you still can!’

Chapter Thirty-five

CASSANDRA’S WOE

Astynome looked up at the wooden horse, still reeling from the news that the Greeks had left – that Eperitus had abandoned her. Why would they suddenly strike their camp and head home? Had they given up, or did they intend to return in greater numbers, perhaps to pursue a different strategy? Either way, surely Eperitus would have found some means to let her know? If they were returning to Greece, would he not have smuggled her a message, imploring her to sail with him? Or had his anger at her betrayal turned him against her again? As doubts clouded her mind, she looked again at the horse and recalled Odysseus’s words to her, spoken in confidence on the night he, Diomedes and Eperitus had stolen the Palladium.

‘One day soon,’ he had warned, ‘a wooden horse will appear within clear sight of the city walls. Some will welcome it, but others will call for its destruction. Don’t let them succeed, Astynome! By whatever means you can, make sure the horse is preserved. If it’s brought inside the city walls, the war will end and you will be reunited with Eperitus; if it’s destroyed, you will never see him again.’

She had not understood the meaning of his words at the time, only their urgency. And as she pondered them again they did not seem to suggest an ignominious defeat and a return to Greece, and that gave her heart. But one thing was now clear: as she heard Cassandra’s call for the horse to be burned she knew what Odysseus had wanted her to do, and that both he and Eperitus were relying on her. Leaving the crowd she had followed from the city, she walked up to the horse and laid a hand on one of its oversized wheels.

‘Cassandra lies. This is no herald of doom, but a gift from the Greeks acknowledging our victory. It should stand forever as a monument to the glory of those who fought for Troy, so that generations to come can look at it and speak their names with pride. Burn it and you will diminish their honour! Indeed, burn it and you will bring a curse down on the city.’

Hundreds of voices were raised in agreement, but Cassandra cut them short with an angry scream.

‘This is madness! Will you invite your own deaths? I tell you, this horse will not become a monument to the sacrifices of the fallen – rather, it will render their sacrifices worthless!’

Her words were met with jeers and calls for her to be silent.

‘Why should we listen to you?’ Astynome countered. ‘You’re nothing but a storm crow, Cassandra, always wailing about the destruction of Troy and the death of its people. But we’re still here, aren’t we? The walls of Troy still stand and its warriors still man the battlements, don’t they? Why should anyone believe you?’

‘Because you have to!’ Cassandra pleaded. ‘Father, listen to me, I implore you! This thing reeks of death. If its shadow falls within the walls of Troy, then your city and everything in it will be destroyed.’

Priam looked at her with uncertainty in his eyes, but the taunts and insults from the crowd behind her grew louder. Cassandra turned on them in frustration, and seeing a soldier among her mockers ran at him and wrenched the spear from his surprised hands. The crowd fell back, shouting now with fear as they saw the dangerous rage in her dark eyes.

‘Damn you all!’ she cried, then turned on her heel and hurled the spear at the horse’s side.

It struck with a hollow thud, and in that instant it seemed to many that they heard a second sound, a movement from within the body of the horse itself. The clamour of the crowd fell away and in the silence that followed everyone looked up at the spear, still quivering from the impact of the blow. Astynome looked up, too, wondering whether she had indeed heard a metallic clang from inside the wooden effigy, or whether she had simply imagined it. Then the stillness was broken by a series of shouts. All eyes looked to the south, where a group of horsemen were racing across the plain towards them. Their distinctive armour marked them out as Trojans, and at their head was the unmistakeable figure of Aeneas. Moments later they drew to a halt amid a cloud of brown dust that billowed forward to float around the hocks of the wooden horse. Aeneas leapt lightly from the back of his mount and, walking to the nearest of his riders, seized the bound and gagged man who had shared his horse and pulled him to the ground. The prisoner fell with a muffled grunt, but Aeneas dragged him back to his feet and pushed him towards Priam and Apheidas.

‘My lord,’ Aeneas began, acknowledging Priam with a low bow. ‘Congratulations on your great victory. The Greek fleet has sailed and we found their camp completely deserted. All except for this man.’