The Oracles of Troy (The Adventures of Odysseus) (8 page)

‘Come with me,’ she ordered. ‘I have a task for you.’

The Taphian looked at her dumbly, then slowly shook his head.

‘I’ve given you a command,’ she said, more sternly this time. ‘If you wish to keep your position in the guard you will do as your queen tells you. Is that clear?’

The man simply stared at her, refusing to move. He even had the audacity to let his eyes fall to her breasts. She turned away indignantly, pulling her cloak about her, and fumed as she tried to think of how to get the brute away from the door.

‘The gods are mocking me,’ she hissed to herself. ‘A woman’s pride is her downfall, as Clytaemnestra used to say. And yet, what choice do I have?’

With a sigh, she loosened the sash about her waist so that her chiton fell open to expose her long, soft thigh. Biting her lip, she loosened it more so that the slit spread up to her naked hip. Then, forcing a smile, she pulled her cloak aside and turned to face the Taphian once more.

‘When the queen asks for a man’s help, she expects him to obey. Now, are you going to come with me or do I need to find someone else?’

The soldier’s eyes widened a little as they regarded the bare flesh of her leg. Then, as she turned and began to walk slowly away from him, he placed his spear against the wall and followed. Penelope sensed him getting closer and quickened her pace, at the same time trying to pull her dress together so as not to expose herself to Mentor and Eumaeus. The Taphian grunted something in his crude dialect, his voice sounding as if he was directly behind her. Quickly, she slipped through the open door into the great hall, but before Mentor and Eumaeus could emerge from the shadows the man’s arms slid beneath hers and his hands closed over her breasts. She gave a half scream, then Eumaeus appeared to her left holding a sack. He tried to throw it over the Taphian’s head, but the man spotted him and lashed out instinctively, catching the slave in the jaw and sending him flying back into the shadows. Mentor had rushed out in the same moment, sword in hand, but had fallen back as he saw the Taphian’s arm still wrapped about Penelope.

‘Kill him!’ she spat.

The Taphian turned to face Mentor, using Penelope as a shield. He fumbled for the dagger in his belt. Sensing what he was doing, the queen tried to grab his hand, but he was too strong for her and almost broke her wrist as he wrenched it away. Then Eumaeus appeared again, throwing the bag over the soldier’s head and drawing it down to his shoulders. The man shouted and Penelope was able to pull away as he seized hold of the bag and snatched it off again. Seeing his chance, Mentor leapt forward and pushed the sword into the man’s chest, forcing it through the ribs with all his strength until the point emerged out of his back. His arms ceased thrashing and his large body went limp, falling back against Eumaeus and then to the floor.

‘By all the gods,’ Eumaeus exclaimed. ‘Why don’t Taphians ever die easily?’

‘Do you think anyone heard?’ Penelope asked, rubbing her bruised wrist and wincing at the pain.

Mentor paused and cocked an ear, but after a moment of listening to the silence that had returned to the palace, he shook his head.

‘Wait here,’ he said. ‘I’ll free Nisus.’

‘The farthest storeroom, down to the left,’ Penelope told him as he disappeared through the doorway.

He came back moments later, followed by a grey-haired man whose rich clothes were now torn and shabby looking. One eye was black and swollen and there was blood in his nostrils and on his beard. Nisus looked down at the body of the Taphian, then at Penelope.

‘Thank you, my lady,’ he said. ‘Mentor has told me the risks you’ve taken to save me.’

‘A small repayment for the loyalty you’ve shown me over the years, Nisus. It’s too dangerous for you to remain on Ithaca, though; you must leave at once and not return until you hear my husband has come back. Go to Sparta and help Halitherses to protect Telemachus until I send for him.’

Nisus nodded. Eumaeus handed him the Taphian’s cloak, then bent down to heave the corpse onto his shoulder.

‘Sleep well, Penelope,’ Mentor said. ‘We’ll make sure Nisus reaches the boat, and that our friend’s corpse is never seen again.’

As they were going, Nisus turned to Penelope and looked at her a last time.

‘Take care, my lady,’ he said. ‘Things are changing rapidly now. You must play for time. In everything you do, try to buy time for Odysseus and the army to return.’

‘I will,’ she assured him.

And wondered how such a thing would be possible.

H
ELENUS

C
assandra looked up and saw the figure of a man silhouetted in the entrance to the temple. He was short, and though the shape of his body was hidden by the robe that reached down to his ankles, she sensed he was young and lightly built. He took a step towards her and a circle of moonlight fell across his pale, beardless face.

‘Did you do it?’ he asked.

His black eyes lingered on Cassandra’s nakedness and there was a carnal fascination in them, but as the girl sat up and drew back against the altar, pulling the halves of her torn clothing together, the longing in his features faded and he took another two steps into the temple.

‘I said did you
do
it?’ he repeated, his soft lisp becoming more pronounced.

She pointed at the decapitated body of the snake, the blood of which was still wet on her face, neck and chest.

‘Yes, Helenus, I did it.’

A smile spread across Helenus’s face. He stared down at his sister, his lustful curiosity replaced by an eagerness to hear more.

‘And? Did he answer? Did Apollo come to you?’

Cassandra met her younger brother’s gaze. He had inherited Priam’s handsome looks and piercing eyes, but there was none of his mother’s kindness in them. Hecabe’s only legacy to her son was her weedy, diminutive stature, which he hated because it meant he would never be a powerful warrior like his older brothers, winning honour in battle and earning the adoration of the people. Instead, he was destined to live in their shadow, privileged by his royal blood and yet overlooked because of his youth.

‘Of course he came. Does he ever miss the opportunity to torture me?’ she replied. ‘And, yes, he gave me visions.’

‘Of the future?’

Cassandra thought of the soldier in the temple of Athena, but
that
was personal. A gift from Apollo for her alone. She shook her head.

‘No, something greater. He gave me three oracles, the keys to Troy’s survival – or her destruction!’

‘What were they?’ he insisted, his voice harsh and eager.

Cassandra held her hand out to him and he helped her to her feet, his eyes dropping to her bloodied breasts again as the halves of her dress fell open.

‘I’m your
sister
, Helenus,’ she reminded him, standing up straight and no longer trying to hide her nakedness.

Helenus’s lowered his eyes to the floor. Seeing the heap of Cassandra’s cloak, he picked it up and – averting his gaze – handed it to her. Cassandra threw it about her shoulders and leaned back against the altar, lightly scrutinising her brother as he stood before her. Normally his clothes were expensive and fashionable, as befitted a son of Priam, but tonight she could see he wore the white robes of a priest beneath his rich double cloak. Not that he was a priest yet, of course – most priests of Apollo had shaven heads and were at least twice Helenus’s age – but he was already an initiate and had used his father’s authority to become an apprentice at the temple in Pergamos. His royal blood ensured he would one day rise to the priesthood, a position of power and influence, but not for many years yet. Not unless he could show Apollo had singled him out for a higher office. And for that he had to provide proof he had received the god’s blessing.

He glanced at Cassandra, saw that she was covered, and reached out to place his hands on her upper arms.

‘What are these oracles, Sister? If we know the secrets of Troy’s survival, given to us by the gods themselves, then the Greeks can never be victorious! Tell them to me so that I can announce them before our father’s court.’

‘And reap the glory for yourself.’

Helenus dropped his arms to his side and turned away again, this time in a sulk.

‘It was
your
suggestion. Nobody ever believes a word
you
say, remember?’

‘Yourself included, Helenus. When I asked you to tell Father that Queen Penthesilea would be killed by Achilles, you almost refused to go.’

‘And I would have refused if you hadn’t begged me,’ he snapped. ‘What if you’d been wrong? I would have looked ridiculous, claiming visions from Apollo that never came true.’

‘But they
did
.’

‘And who couldn’t have predicted that Achilles would kill the queen of the Amazons?’ he retorted. ‘That arrogant bitch was asking to be sent to Hades.’

Cassandra gave a dismissive laugh. ‘A lucky guess then, was it? So when I told you Achilles would die trying to storm the Scaean Gate, why were you happy to announce
your
vision in front of the whole assembly of elders?’

‘Because I’m a gambler,’ Helenus answered, meeting Cassandra’s gaze and holding it without shame. ‘I saw how they looked at me after I’d – after
you’d
– predicted the defeat of Penthesilea, and I knew that if you were right about Achilles’s death they’d think I was truly blessed by Apollo. I admit I didn’t believe you, but my instincts told me to risk it. And what choice did I have? I’m never going to match Paris or Deiphobus on the battlefield, and as for becoming a priest of Apollo – I barely dream when I’m asleep, let alone receive revelations from the god when I’m awake! That doesn’t mean I’m not ambitious, though. I
am
,’ he said, punching the palm of his hand, ‘and if by telling your prophecies to a believing audience I can speed my way into the priesthood, then so be it. That’s why you approached me in the first place, isn’t it? Nobody would believe these visions if they came from you, but people will listen to them from me. And you know I’ll never let on because I want all the glory for myself.’

‘I’m sorry, Helenus,’ Cassandra said. ‘I didn’t mean to mock you. If you’d rather not hear the oracles, I’ll understand.’

‘Don’t play coy with me, Sister – you’re as desperate to tell them to me as I am to hear them. Share the visions Apollo gave you and I promise they’ll be revealed before the whole assembly. There’s to be a council of war in a few days time: I overheard Father telling Paris he wants to discuss new allies.’

‘Yes, I know,’ Cassandra said. ‘He wants to send an embassy to Eurypylus and his Mysians.’

‘How could you know that?’

Cassandra closed her eyes and let out a long breath.

‘I dreamed it, of course, some days ago. The Mysians are the only people in the whole of Ilium that have refused to help us, because of Astyoche’s feud with Father. But even though she hates him, she’s still his daughter and Priam is prepared to offer her the last and greatest of Troy’s treasures – the Golden Vine – if she’ll send her son to our aid. I have foreseen that she will accept his offer.’

‘And will Eurypylus rid us of the Greeks?’ Helenus asked hopefully, leaning forward to study her face in the gloom.

Cassandra answered with a dark look and an almost imperceptible shake of the head. Helenus felt an instant of dismay, then frowned and pulled back from his sister.

‘All the more reason to hear these oracles, then. Tell me what you saw, Cassandra.’

As he spoke, the wind outside the temple picked up, whistling between the silver trunks and rustling the branches overhead so that the spots of moonlight on the flagstones danced and whirled. In the flurry of sound and movement, Cassandra stepped forward and embraced her brother tightly, pressing her lips to his ear and whispering to him the things she had seen. His expression was momentarily void of thought and emotion as he listened intently, his gaze resting on the crude effigy of Apollo behind the altar. Then she finished speaking and kissed him on the cheek, before dropping back against the marble plinth and staring at him. He frowned back at her as he took in what she had said to him. Then his eyes narrowed questioningly.

‘The god
told
you these things? You’re certain of them – you’re certain you understood the visions correctly?’

Cassandra sighed and shook her head, though her gaze grew more fierce at his disbelief.

‘Of course I am. And you’ll tell Father? You’ll keep your promise?’

‘Yes,’ Helenus answered after a pause. ‘I’ll tell Priam and the whole council of war. What have I got to lose, after all? If the oracles aren’t fulfilled and Troy survives, then who’s to say I was wrong? If they aren’t fulfilled and Troy falls anyway, who will be left alive to care?’

T
HE
R
ETURN OF THE
O
UTCAST

O
dysseus leaned against one of the laurel trees at the entrance to the temple of Thymbrean Apollo and looked down the slope to the wide bay below. Once it had been home to hundreds of vessels, from visiting merchant ships and high-sided war galleys to the small cockle boats favoured by the local fisherman. Now it was empty, its occupants either destroyed or driven away by the war. Two rivers fed the bay – the Simöeis to the north and the Scamander to the south, the latter gleaming darkly in the faint starlight. Rising up from the plain beyond the river were the pallid battlements of Troy that had defied the Greeks for so long. At the highest point of the city was Pergamos, a fortress within a fortress, its palaces and temples protected by sloping walls and lofty towers where armed guards kept an unfailing watch. Further down, sweeping southward from the citadel like a half-formed teardrop, was the lower city. Here rich, two-storey houses slowly gave way to a mass of closely packed slums where thousands of the city’s inhabitants lived in squalor and near starvation. Here, also, were camped the soldiers of Troy and her allies, ready at a moment’s notice to man the walls or pour out onto the plains and do battle. And though it was the Greek army that laid siege to Troy’s gates and penned its citizens in like sheep, the very stubbornness of its defenders ensured that the Greeks were no less prisoners themselves, doomed never to see their homes and families again until those god-built walls could somehow be breached and the bitter war brought to its bloody conclusion.