The Oracles of Troy (The Adventures of Odysseus)

He embraced each of the Ithacans in turn, elated to see friendly faces amid the chaos of Troy’s demise.

‘Is it like this everywhere?

Antiphus nodded. ‘Worse in most places. Agamemnon ordered every male Trojan to be murdered and every building to be burned. Diomedes, Idomeneus and a few of the others are trying to restore some order, but the whole army’s been struck with madness.’

‘Have you seen Odysseus?’ Omeros asked. ‘We’ve been looking for him.’

Eperitus felt sudden shame that he had not given a single thought to his king’s safety since leaving him and Menelaus on their search for Helen.

‘He was heading for the palace when we parted. I’ll go see if he’s still there.’

‘We’ll come with you,’ Polites said.

‘No. I want you to take Astynome back to the ships at once. Avoid danger and don’t delay – I’m holding each of you responsible for her safety. And she’s hurt her leg; you’ll need to carry her, Polites.’

Polites nodded and before Astynome could protest, plucked her up in his broad arms as if she weighed no more than a child. Eperitus stroked her hair and kissed her.

‘You’ll be safe now – I trust these men with my life, and I know they won’t let you be harmed.’

Astynome smiled at him.

‘It’s not me I’m worried about. It’s you. Find Odysseus, but promise me you won’t go hunting Apheidas. He still has a hold on you, Eperitus.’

‘If you’re looking for your father,’ Omeros interrupted, mishearing their conversation, ‘we saw him heading up the ramp towards the palace only a short while ago. He was limping, but he still cut down every man we saw stand in his way.’

‘Eperitus,’ Astynome urged. ‘Promise me.’

‘I promise he won’t come between us again,’ he answered, kissing her one last time before setting off at a run.

Chapter Forty-three

THE RAPE OF CASSANDRA

How do I find Apheidas’s house?’ Odysseus asked.

‘Apheidas is dead,’ Hecabe said. ‘By now they’ll all be dead.’

‘Do you know where he lives?’

Odysseus looked at the old woman. Tears had traced clean lines down her smoke-stained cheeks and her grief for Priam had left her eyes devoid of life; and yet she had summoned the strength and courage to stand and follow Odysseus.

‘Through there,’ she answered, pointing down the nearest street.

It was filled with figures moving to and fro, their identities hidden by the flames and smoke that filled the narrow thoroughfare. As they watched, a wall of one of the burning buildings collapsed and fell down into the street, burying several people and sending up a cloud of dust to mingle with the smoke. The screams of the injured followed it.

‘Is there another way?’

‘Why does it matter? Even Apheidas can’t have survived this, and by now his house will be just another smoking ruin.’

‘My friend went there. I need to know he’s safe.’

‘Of course you must,’ the old woman sighed. ‘Forgive me. You can go around by the city walls.’

Odysseus took the Trojan queen’s hand and led her through the relentless anarchy towards the high battlements that ran behind Pergamos. Seeing Hecabe’s age, none of the pillaging soldiers tried to stop them as they picked their way between the dead and dying. Another building collapsed ahead of them in a cascade of fiery debris. Odysseus waited a moment, then raising his hand before his eyes forged through the dust cloud that had billowed up from the ruins like a wraith. Hecabe followed, choking loudly. A figure lurched towards them through the haze, but Odysseus knocked it aside with his shield. The scream indicated it was a woman.

‘Come on,’ he said to Hecabe, his voice rasping from the dryness in his throat.

They staggered on down the street, grey from the dust and ash, and reached the steps that led up to the ramparts. Odysseus placed a foot on the first step, but Hecabe held back.

‘Not up there,’ she said. ‘Down here.’ She pointed to a shadow-filled alley that ran between two houses to their left. ‘It leads to the temple of Apollo, next to Apheidas’s house.’

Odysseus peered cautiously into the alley. Everything was silent and black, but as he stared he thought he saw a movement, the faintest glimmer of polished metal in the gloom. Pushing Hecabe behind him, he drew his sword.

‘Who’s there?’