The Oracles of Troy (The Adventures of Odysseus)

‘So be it,’ Priam said. ‘And what about you, Deiphobus? What do you have to bribe me with?’

‘Nothing, Father, except my loyalty and my courage in battle, which I have shown again and again – unlike my younger brother, who has yet to raise a weapon in anger against Troy’s enemies. But there is one thing I can offer that is genuine and true. My love for Helen.’

He looked at his sister-in-law, who met his gaze without flinching. Both she and Paris had always known of Deiphobus’s love for her and so the revelation came as no surprise. It was clear from the way his expression changed when she entered a room, and from his unfailing defence of her whenever anyone dared to question her presence in Troy. Paris had found his younger brother’s infatuation amusing, though Helen had felt only sympathy for Deiphobus, knowing that his love could never be returned. Paris’s death had done nothing to change that.

‘I have loved you since the first moment I saw you ten years ago at the Scaean Gate, when you were standing in Paris’s chariot,’ he declared. ‘I’ve never stated my feelings openly, but you must have known them. And though it isn’t my intention to disrespect Paris’s memory so soon after his funeral, I believe you have to marry again for your own protection. My father has said as much, and if he indeed loves you like one of his own daughters he will forget Helenus’s supposed oracle and allow you to choose your own husband.’

‘No!’ Helenus protested. ‘Are we peasants, letting our women choose their own husbands for the sake of love? Father, I insist that you decide between us, not a mere woman whose judgement will be dictated by emotion and desire.’

‘If I were to choose, Helenus,’ Priam asked, arching an eyebrow at his son, ‘what qualities would I see in you? Indeed, you show your inexperience and ambition when you speak of Helen with such disregard. Remember this: a man cannot find happiness in marriage unless his wife is happy too. And for that reason Deiphobus is right – I will give the choice to Helen.’

There was a murmur of surprise among the assembled elders, who leaned in towards each other to share whispered opinions. Deiphobus and Helenus both looked at Helen, who waited for the hushed discussions to cease before replying to the king.

‘My choice remains the same, my lord. I already have a husband, one who was chosen for me by my foster-father twenty years ago from among the best men of Greece. He is Menelaus, king of Sparta, and if you love your people you will send me back to him tonight.’

Priam slammed his palm down on the arm of his throne.

‘Menelaus may have been your husband in that barbaric land, but he is not here! And we have not fought for ten years just to give you back now. If you will not choose, Daughter, then I will choose for you. Deiphobus will be your husband. What’s more, you will be married this very night here in the great hall.’

‘No!’ Helen shouted. ‘I refuse!’

‘You’ll do as I command,’ Priam replied, sternly. ‘And as for you, Helenus, you will appear before the assembly tomorrow evening and you will tell us the oracle that was revealed to you.’

Helen turned and looked at the tall wooden doors at the back of the great hall. As the walls and ceiling of the vast chamber seemed to close in on her from the shadows, the doors presented her last hope of escape. But before she could think to run, Deiphobus seized her by the arm and shouted for Idaeus to fetch a priest. Helen struggled against her future husband’s grip, and though Deiphobus refused to meet her beautiful, accusing eyes, he held her firm.

Helenus shot his father an angry look, then turned and left with Apheidas at his shoulder.

Chapter Twelve

IN APHEIDAS’S HOUSE

Eperitus looked over his shoulder at the five horsemen riding in file behind him. They were cloaked and hooded against the cold night air, and with only starlight to guide their mounts over the unpredictable terrain their progress was slow. Odysseus was nearest. He caught Eperitus’s glance and nodded.

‘Still here,’ he muttered, without enthusiasm.