The Oracles of Troy (The Adventures of Odysseus)

Eperitus nodded, slowly. ‘Just release her and I’ll let you go. You have my word.’

‘You’re not very good at keeping your promises, though, are you? And if you think I believe you’re just going to forget everything I’ve done and let me walk out of here, then you’re a bigger fool than I am. But there’s another way to solve this little dilemma. I’ve heard it said that for a man to conquer his fears he has to face them. Shall we see if it’s true?’

A smile spread across his face as with a resigned gesture he pushed Astynome into the pit. Her scream echoed briefly from the walls and was suddenly silenced. Shocked, Eperitus ran to the edge and stared down into the Stygian blackness, while his father ran limping to another door on the opposite side of the courtyard. Eperitus turned, part of his mind telling him that Apheidas was escaping, but knowing full well that to pursue him was to condemn Astynome to death. And so he turned back to the gaping hole at his feet and, almost as if his actions were being controlled by someone other than himself, he threw his grandfather’s shield onto his back and reached for the torch Astynome had let fall on the flagstones. Tossing it into the black void, he prayed to Athena to protect Astynome, then jumped.

Chapter Forty-one

AT THE TEMPLE OF ZEUS

Odysseus could hear the sounds of chaos long before he and Menelaus – with Helen, Pleisthenes and the remaining maids trailing behind – had found their way back to the servants’ entrance. The high-pitched screams of women penetrated the palace walls clearly, while the deep-throated shouts of hundreds of men formed a low roar in the background. The clatter of weapons could be heard, too, chattering away like angry birds as Trojan warriors tried to resist the overwhelming tide of the victorious Greeks. Then, as Odysseus reached the door and pushed it open, they saw the night sky ablaze before them, flames and smoke pouring up from Troy as its buildings burned with terrifying, glorious ferocity. Rain clouds pressed low over the city, bathed orange and scarlet by the fires below, and the warm night air crackled with the sound of fiery destruction.

Odysseus shielded his eyes against the heat and light, then, drawing his sword, turned to Menelaus.

‘Keep the others close. There are men out there who’ll gladly murder us just to get at the women.’

‘They can try,’ Menelaus growled.

Behind him, Helen stepped out into the night with Pleisthenes at her side. The lad had not said a word to his father since they had burst into his room, even when the Spartan king had taken him in his arms with tears in his eyes and spoken to him in the strange Greek language he barely remembered from his early childhood. Instead, he had pulled away and moved to his mother’s side, staring at Menelaus as if he were his enemy. Now, arm in arm, Helen and Pleisthenes stared at the burning sky with silent awe. The maids followed them from the palace and immediately began to wail in anguish at the sight before them.

‘Helen, shut them up for all our sakes,’ Odysseus pleaded.

She spoke to them in a low voice and they fell quiet. Odysseus looked out at the broad courtyard, which had been so peaceful a short while before. Now it was strewn with the bodies of men and women, while on the opposite side a remnant of the Trojan royal guard fought valiantly against a much larger company of Greeks. In a corner, a man lay on a naked woman, pushing aggressively into her. The woman flapped limply with each movement, and for a horrible moment Odysseus suspected she might be dead.

‘Let’s go,’ Menelaus said.

They ran to the top of the ramp that led down to the middle tier of the citadel. A group of four Greeks ran up the slope towards them, brandishing their swords.

‘Stand aside!’ Menelaus commanded.

The brutal grins dropped from their smoke-stained faces and they parted before him, though with obvious reluctance as they stared greedily at the women he was escorting. The streets below were teeming with soldiers. Some were fighting their way into the two-storeyed houses at the same time as others were trying to leave with the plunder they had found. This consisted of anything they could lay their hands on, from silver cups to fine dresses or skins of wine. More than once, Odysseus saw men whose arms were laden with loot cut down before they could defend themselves, and their goods taken from their dead bodies. In other houses, people were leaping from upper windows as flames devoured the ground floor, only for the men to be put to the sword and the women to be dragged off by packs of soldiers and raped.

‘Look!’ a voice rang out. ‘Women!’