The Gates Of Troy (23 page)

‘Be realistic, Menelaus. Helen may have been able to keep Paris at bay thus far, but for how much longer? He took her because of her beauty. He wants to make her his lover and wife, and the longer she is kept prisoner behind the walls of Troy the greater the risk he will succeed. He won’t be above forcing himself upon her either. Do you want Paris to violate Helen? Do you want her to bear his children?’

Menelaus’s eyes widened and his face turned red. Suddenly the fury burst free and he smashed his fist down on the table, sending the cups and plates leaping into the air. Wine, meat and bread spilled over the fleece-covered floor.

‘
How dare you
!’ he shouted, grabbing a handful of the purple robe Penelope had given Odysseus and pulling the Ithacan king towards him. ‘How
dare
you speak of such an outrage!’

Odysseus placed his hand on Menelaus’s wrist and calmly forced it back down to his side.

‘I dare to speak of these things, Menelaus, because I’m your friend. Palamedes there has spent the evening goading you with talk of revenge, provoking your anger by reminding you of the injustice Paris has committed against you. That’s because he thinks that’s what you want to hear, and he doesn’t have the courage to tell you the painful truth. But what I’m telling you
is
the truth, whether you like it or not. And unless you’re prepared to put aside your desire for revenge, then Paris and Helen
will
become lovers. That much I can guarantee. Your only hope – and my only hope of returning to Penelope and Telemachus – is to allow me to go to Priam and speak with him. I can make him see reason and let Helen go, especially if he knows about the army that’s being gathered against him.’

‘An embassy to Troy is a waste of time,’ Agamemnon said, icily. ‘We’ll lose the element of surprise if you tell Priam about our preparations. We can’t afford to risk an opposed landing on the beaches of Ilium. And I know my sister-in-law better than you do, Odysseus. Helen won’t betray Menelaus. She’ll be expecting him to come with an army, and that thought alone will help her to resist Paris.’

‘No it won’t,’ Menelaus said, shaking his head slowly. ‘Odysseus is right. But there’s something else he hasn’t said, whether he thought it or not. I know Helen doesn’t love me. She respects me and enjoys my friendship, but I don’t consume her thoughts or fill her with desire. That I can live with, and have done for ten years. What I will not be able to bear is if she falls in love with another. I can’t risk laying siege to Troy and knowing that, as each day passes, Helen is closer to giving her heart to Paris. It won’t do! Agamemnon, you agreed the choice should be mine, and so I say Odysseus should get his chance. What’s more, he should be given the power to make any bargain he thinks is necessary, as long as it results in the rapid return of my wife.’

‘Think about what you’re saying, brother . . .’

‘I have, Agamemnon! I want Odysseus to go to Troy and bring Helen back before . . . before it’s too late.’

Agamemnon sighed and shook his head. ‘Very well,’ he said reluctantly. ‘There’s none better than Odysseus to win a man over, and even a proud old fool like Priam might be persuaded.’

‘That’s settled then,’ Odysseus said, standing as if to leave. ‘Eperitus and I will leave at dawn tomorrow, while the rest of the fleet will be placed under my cousin Eurylochus. They’ll escort you to Aulis, Agamemnon, and train in the full expectation of war.’

Palamedes stood. ‘One more thing, my lords. I’d like to be part of this embassy – I’ve always wanted to see the famous walls and towers of Troy – and I think Menelaus should come too.’

Odysseus opened his mouth to protest but Agamemnon held up his hand to silence him. ‘I agree that you should go, Palamedes – after all, two great minds are better than one. But not Menelaus. The Trojans pretend to honour the customs of guest-friendship, but we’ve already seen Paris break one sacred oath – I can’t risk my brother falling into their treacherous hands and being held hostage or killed.’

‘Paris is not a king, my lord,’ Palamedes said. ‘But Priam is and he won’t dare lose face by mistreating his guests. For one thing, no other nation in the civilized world would ever trust his word again, so you can rest assured Menelaus will be safe. What’s more, if Priam hears from Menelaus himself the grief that Paris has caused him, that will be far more effective than any argument Odysseus or I could make.’

He gave Agamemnon a look, which the king appeared to understand.

‘Very well,’ Agamemnon announced, signalling for the guards to open the entrance flaps of his tent. ‘Menelaus and Palamedes will board with you in the morning, Odysseus, and may the gods speed you on your voyage to Troy. The rest of us will sail to the gathering at Aulis.’

They rose at first light the next day and set off before sunup, rowing the ships out of the bay to find a breeze, then hoisting the cross-spars and letting the sails fall. Eperitus stood in the prow of his galley as it rounded the cape, watching the cotton and flax sail flap and sputter several times before catching the wind and bellying out. The dolphin motif swelled in the orange light of the rising sun and for a moment seemed like a living creature, hauling the ship forward across the troughs and swells of the restless sea. In a flurry of activity, the sailors adjusted the leather ropes to distribute the wind pressure before returning to the crowded benches, their weight acting as ballast to make the ship ride evenly across the waves.

Although he had spent the past ten years living on an island, Eperitus was no sailor and was happy to leave the running of the ship to the crew. They were drawn from the islands of Ithaca, Samos, Zacynthos and Dulichium, so had spent their entire lives travelling on boats of some form or other, whereas he had not even seen the sea before he met Odysseus. Despite that, he loved the oceans with a passion that could rival any of the veteran seamen. He had never forgotten the first time he had smelled the unfamiliar reek of brine, heard the cawing of the great white gulls and then, supremely, stepped aboard a ship and taken his first, swift voyage over the ceaseless waters. It had been the strangest and most exhilarating experience of his life to feel himself afloat on the powerful and shifting body of the ocean, its dark mass impenetrable and full of primeval mystery. That first experience had sparked a love that had never left him, and as he looked down at the waves breaking over the red-cheeked bows of the ship – each one painted with a large eye that stared fixedly at the horizon – he felt his joy of life renewed by the prospects of a long voyage to Troy.

He turned and leaned against the prow, enjoying the feel of the waves slapping against the thin planking beneath his feet and the wind whipping through his hair. He looked across the rows of benches at the faces of the warriors who would be under his command. Each craft had been constructed to carry sixty men in basic comfort, but with all their war gear and provisions for a long voyage the ship was horribly overcrowded. The two hundred men of the palace guard who had been chosen to form the backbone of the expedition had been divided to provide fifteen trained fighters per ship, with an additional twenty to act as Odysseus’s bodyguard. These included the most experienced and longest-serving soldiers, whom Eperitus was happy to see dotted in twos or threes on the benches. Some caught his eye and gave a nod or a smile of recognition, while others were busy in conversation, playing dice or just looking out at the waves, where groups of dolphins raced the great wooden vessels and occasionally leapt out to eye the men that sat in them.

At the helm were Odysseus, Eurybates, Menelaus and Palamedes. Eurybates, one of the best sailors in the guard, stood with his hands on the twin steering oars, his eyes narrowed as they watched the sea ahead and read the wave caps to find the best current. Odysseus was beside him, looking displeased at the presence of Palamedes, yet with an indomitable glint in his eye. After leaving Agamemnon’s tent, the king had confided to Eperitus that he suspected Palamedes would try to thwart his attempts to bring Helen back to Greece, but that he was determined not to allow him. Eperitus agreed to keep a careful eye on the Nauplian prince.

Before long, the king called down to the crew and ordered a change in the sail. Slowly the ship began to move away from the fleet, no longer shadowing the coastline but heading out towards the cluster of islands that formed the gateway to the Aegean Sea, which lay hidden beyond the haze of the horizon. Suddenly a cheer began to rise up from the crews of the other galleys, which was echoed by the men of the lone vessel. Eperitus, too, stood on one of the rowing benches, waving and calling to his adopted countrymen with wishes for a speedy voyage to Aulis and the protection of the gods. How long would it be, he wondered, before they met again? Would it be a triumphal reunion, as they returned from Troy with Helen, or would they come back with thoughts of a long and bitter war ahead of them? It would depend on the ability of his friend and king to work his charm on the Trojans, but in his heart Eperitus hoped for war.

Chapter Twelve

T
ROY

P
rogress had been good since leaving the Cape of Malea. Strong winds kept the sail full most of the time, whilst the waves were rarely steep enough to hinder the speed of the galley. Though not one man had ever sailed to Troy before, or even passed the belt of islands that separated the Cretan Sea from the Aegean, Agamemnon had provided them with a map showing the way. This had been drawn at the king’s command by a Mycenaean merchant who was a frequent visitor to Troy. Though rough, it showed the coasts of Euboea, Attica and the Peloponnese on the left, all the major islands in between, and the shores of Asia on the right. The positions of significant ports and cities had been recorded, and in a northerly bulge of the Asian coastline were the words
Ilium
and
Troy
.

For seven days the crew had risen before the first light of dawn, eager to set the sail and forge on to new waters and new sights, but by late afternoon every man would be looking for a safe mooring before the approach of evening. To sail in darkness was to invite peril, with no lights to mark the shoreline and no way to spot reefs and other dangers. It was just as important – with the level of overcrowding on the ship – to camp on land, where the men would make themselves comfortable, light fires and cook their food. But Odysseus and Eurybates, who took turns at the helm, also insisted on finding a port or a bay with a fishing village. As helmsmen on galleys are only able to navigate from one headland to the next, they were keen to find sailors who could give them the benefit of their experience for the next day’s voyage.

Using this method, they sailed eastward through the islands of the Cyclades, stopping at Melos, Myconos and Icaria, before turning north towards the Asian seaboard. Here the strong offshore wind took them past the islands of Chios and wooded Lesbos until, on the afternoon of the eighth day from Malea, they came within sight of another, much smaller island close to the mainland.

Odysseus was the first to spot it. He was leaning with one hand against the prow and the other gripping the bow rail, watching the features of the alien coastline as it slipped by on the starboard side. Eperitus was next to him as usual, his arms folded over the bow rail as he watched the waves sliced open by the blue beak of the galley, sending a constant sea spray over the bulging red cheeks and the ever-watchful eyes that adorned them. The light of the lowering sun was still bright and created circular rainbows in the fine mist. Suddenly Odysseus placed a hand on his friend’s forearm and pointed. A moment later, Eurybates cried out from the helm, ‘Tenedos! Tenedos on the northern horizon.’

There was a surge of activity on the benches as the crew crowded to the sides or stood to catch a glimpse of the still-distant island. Tenedos itself was of no significance, but every man knew it stood opposite a spur of land that protected a large inland bay, and on a hill in the plain to the northeast of the bay was Troy. At each stop there had been contact with sailors and merchants who had described to them its tall towers, high, sloping walls and strong gates, building in their minds a vivid mental picture of a city bulging with wealth and ripe for sacking. Despite their mission of peace, not one warrior on board wanted a bloodless resolution to their adventure. They had volunteered to fight, some inspired by dreams of glory or the desire to restore Greek pride, but all of them hoping to return to Ithaca laden with the spoils of war. After a while, when it was clear the lofty towers of their enemy’s city were not yet visible, they returned to the benches.

Last to return was Menelaus. His anguish over the loss of his wife had all but disappeared since leaving the Cape of Malea, either because he had learned to disguise his grief in front of the common soldiery or, as Eperitus believed, because of his growing confidence that he would soon be reunited with Helen. He had shared his time cheerfully between the commanders – Odysseus, Eperitus, Eurybates and Palamedes – and the Ithacan warriors. When he was not plaguing Odysseus with questions about how he would deal with the Trojans, he would sit on the benches with the men, casting dice and losing lots of money (deliberately, as Eperitus and Odysseus suspected), or sharing experiences of battle and fighting techniques. This had won over every one of the Ithacans to his cause; if glory and plunder had been the motives that drew them to the expedition, restoring Menelaus’s wife and his honour were now equally important. There was not a man among them who did not want to kill Trojans and raze their city to the ground. Yet as Eperitus watched the Spartan king look longingly northward, then turn away and go to sit despondently next to Palamedes in the helm, he knew the man’s torment had not lessened.