The Oracles of Troy (The Adventures of Odysseus)

‘You go too far, Antimachus,’ said another elder, rising from his chair. ‘Destruction may have followed Helen to Troy, but the guilt is not hers alone. She’s as much a victim as any of us – a victim of men’s lust and the cruel gods that gave her such beauty. Let the king deal with her as his greater wisdom sees fit, and pray to the gods he doesn’t deliver you to the Greeks instead!’

Helen looked at Antenor with gratitude. Though he had once hosted Menelaus when he had come to Troy on a mission of peace – and his sympathies for the Greek cause were well known – he had never shown her anything other than the greatest courtesy and kindness. Yet compassion of his kind was rare, and however much she was to blame for bringing war to Troy, unless she left soon its doom would be sealed.

‘Whatever the cause of this war, Antimachus is right,’ she said. ‘If I stay here, Troy will be razed to the ground, every man, woman and child slaughtered. One way or another, the Greeks will be victorious. But now that my husband is dead, what reason is there for the war to go on? Send me back to Menelaus and save yourselves.’

‘Never,’ said Helenus, his high voice out of place in the presence of so many old men. ‘Agamemnon doesn’t give a damn about you, Helen. All he wants is Troy.’

‘Helenus is right,’ Apheidas agreed. He had moved unnoticed to lean against one of the broad black pillars, his battered armour gleaming in the firelight. ‘This war was always about who would rule the trade routes across the Aegean – Paris and Helen were just the spark in the kindling. Agamemnon is typical of all Greeks, greedy and self-serving; he won’t go home until the threat of Troy has been wiped out, now and forever.’

‘He may not,’ Helen retorted, ‘but there’ll be nothing to keep the other kings here. If I’m returned their oaths will be fulfilled and Agamemnon won’t be able to stop them leaving. And for all the power of the Mycenaeans, they can’t win this war alone.’

There were voices of agreement from the elders, many of whom looked to Priam’s bowed head in anticipation. Eventually the king raised his eyes to meet Helen’s.

‘I will not throw you out now, Helen. Not after we have fought ten long years to keep you here. Besides, I love you as if you were my own flesh and blood, and with Hector and Paris gone it would break my old heart to lose you too. No, this much I have decided: that you will remain a princess of Troy, and that for your own protection you will marry one of my other sons.’

‘For my protection?’ Helen exclaimed. ‘Surely –’

‘Don’t argue with me, Daughter. The widows of Troy’s fallen are gleeful that you’ve joined their ranks and are full of mockery for you now, but the death of your husband hasn’t lessened their hatred for you. Widowhood is a hard and lonely place to find yourself, and your son, Pleisthenes, won’t be of much help to you with his withered hand. But if you marry one of my other sons your position will be restored, and both Deiphobus and Helenus have asked me to make you their wife.’

‘I don’t want Deiphobus, or Helenus!’ she protested.

‘So you would prefer Menelaus?’ Helenus asked, his tone aloof.

‘I only ever wanted Paris.’

‘Paris is dead,’ Apheidas reminded her. ‘He can never share your bed again, or meet the intimate needs a woman like you craves. And though your love for him is still fresh, his ghost has already lost all memory of you. Helenus, on the other hand, is alive and full of youthful strength. He can fulfil you again, and in time you will learn to love him like you did Paris.’

‘A boy!’ Helen scoffed, shocked by the suggestion and yet mystified as to why Apheidas had taken it on himself to support Helenus. ‘He’s the same age as Pleisthenes. He’s barely started growing a beard!’

‘What you think doesn’t matter,’ Apheidas snapped. ‘The choice belongs to your father, and what’s more, Helenus has something to offer in return for your hand. Haven’t you, Helenus.’

Every eye turned to the prince, who had been staring lasciviously at the outline of Helen’s body beneath her dress, before realising all attention was suddenly upon him. He switched his gaze to his father, who was leaning forward from his throne to look at his son.

‘And what is this thing with which you think you can buy my favour?’ Priam demanded, slowly.

‘A new prophecy, Father,’ Helenus answered. ‘One that will ensure the safety of Troy forever.’

‘Then share it with us, Son. Tell me what I must do to keep my people safe.’

Helenus swallowed and glanced at Apheidas, then back at his father. The colour had drained from his face.

‘Not until Helen is my wife.’

‘What?’

‘Not until Helen is my wife.’

‘Do you dare defy me?’

Priam’s voice was like a clap of thunder, silencing the great hall in an instant. Helenus looked at him fearfully, but something within him knew that if he revealed the oracles Cassandra had shared with him then his father would have no reason to make Helen his wife. He forced his lips shut and looked down at his sandals.