The Oracles of Troy (The Adventures of Odysseus)

‘Nor I,’ Odysseus said, with a melancholy nod of his head. ‘And that’s half the problem. The story doesn’t end there, though. Legend says that Pelops was blessed by the gods and grew to a height and stature much greater than other men, with a strength and fierceness that made him invincible in combat. But like so many great warriors, it was a woman who conquered him. He fell in love with Hippodameia, the daughter of King Oenomaus, ruler of Pisa. Now, Oenomaus was a jealous father who loved his daughter more than anything else. When Pelops asked to marry Hippodameia, the old king set him the same challenge he had put before all her previous suitors: a chariot race from Pisa all the way to Corinth. Pelops would be given a head start, but he would have to drive the chariot with the beautiful Hippodameia beside him – a distraction that could only play to Oenomaus’s advantage. If he won, then the girl would be his; but if Oenomaus caught up with him, he would kill him, just as he had the dozen or so other suitors who had been foolish enough to fall in love with his daughter. To emphasise the point, the king indicated the city walls where their shrivelled heads leered down from spikes.

‘Undeterred, Pelops agreed to the challenge without a second thought: he was a renowned horseman and charioteer, and being almost twice the size of most men he did not fear a fight with Oenomaus. What he did not know, though, was that Oenomaus’s horses were the fastest in Greece and his spear was a gift from Ares, which, if thrown by a skilled warrior, would fly straighter and truer than any mortal weapon. Pelops only learned of these things the night before the race, in a message sent by none other than Hippodameia. She had fallen deeply in love with him and told him her father’s secret in the hope he would not throw away his life for her sake.

‘Pelops knew then he could not win the race. But neither would his love for Hippodameia allow him to back down. So, being a resourceful man, he approached Oenomaus’s charioteer, a man called Myrtilus, and offered him half the kingdom of Pisa if he would betray his master and ensure Pelops won the race. Myrtilus agreed to help, but not in exchange for wealth or power. Ever since Hippodameia had been a young girl, he had lusted after her, dreaming of nothing more than to share her bed and take her virginity: if Pelops wanted victory, he would first have to swear an oath allowing Myrtilus to be the first to sleep with her on their marriage night. Reluctantly, knowing he had little choice, Pelops took the oath.

‘The following morning, the two chariots lined up at the starting point. Hippodameia stepped aboard Pelops’s chariot, her face lined with tears for the man whom she believed she was accompanying to his death. But a furtive nod from Myrtilus gave Pelops all the reassurance he needed, and with a crack of his whip and a loud shout he sent his chariot shooting forward. Oenomaus waited until the dust from his opponent’s wheels had died away, then sacrificed a black ram to Zeus before seizing his spear and stepping into his own chariot. Myrtilus took up the reins and began the pursuit.

‘The king’s horses had not won their reputation for nothing. Despite the long head start, by the time the sun was at its hottest Oenomaus could see the dust from Pelops’s chariot ahead of him. He ordered Myrtilus to go faster and had soon come within range of the young suitor. Taking Ares’s spear in his hand, he drew it back and took aim, not knowing that Myrtilus had removed the linchpins from the axle of his chariot and replaced them with thinner ones coated in wax. At that moment, the heat of the sun finally melted the wax and the pins came free. Myrtilus, who felt the telltale juddering beneath his feet, leapt clear into a large bush, but Oenomaus was still aiming his spear when both wheels came off, and was caught up in the wreckage of the chariot and dragged to a horrible death.’

‘Nothing more than he deserved,’ Sthenelaus commented.

Omeros, who had turned from the benches and come to hear the tale, shushed him, forgetting Sthenelaus’s seniority in his annoyance at the interruption.

‘What about Myrtilus?’ he asked.

Odysseus smiled.