The Gates Of Troy Part 7

'Mount up,' Paris ordered.

Realizing something was not right, the Spartans pulled on their helmets and lifted their s.h.i.+elds onto their shoulders. Their leader gave a harsh shout and more men came spilling out of a nearby guardroom.

At the same moment, Apheidas led the rest of the party out of the palace and across the courtyard to where the others awaited them. Helen was with them, carrying Pleisthenes in the folds of her green cloak. Paris directed Lipse to her side and plucked the child from her uplifted arms. He pa.s.sed him to Aeneas then pulled Helen up onto the mare's shoulders.

'Menelaus won't be happy if you steal his favourite horse,' she said, throwing a leg over Lipse's neck before turning and kissing the prince on the mouth. 'But I expect that'll be the least of his worries.'

As he watched his men jump skilfully on the backs of their mounts, Paris turned and saw a fully formed line of three-dozen Spartans barring the silver-sheathed doors that were the only way out to the city streets. The ten remaining Trojans gathered about their leader and looked at him with a mixture of desperation and from those who knew him better expectation.

'Forgive me, my love,' he said, and with a flick of his heels sent Lipse das.h.i.+ng towards the waiting ranks of men. The Spartan spear-points dipped in antic.i.p.ation, while behind him he could hear the shouts of his own men calling him back. Then, as Helen threw her arms about Lipse's neck, Paris turned the reins and brought the animal to a sliding halt, spraying the triple line of guards with dirt.

He threw his arm around Helen, pulling her tightly against his chest, and with his other hand pulled the dagger from his belt, pressing it softly but menacingly against her white neck.

'Open the gate,' he commanded. 'Do it now or I'll slit your queen's throat!'

The Spartans hesitated.

'For pity's sake!' Helen screamed, realizing Paris's plan. 'Do as he says or he'll kill me.'

Moved by love of their queen and respect for her authority, the Spartan ranks melted away before them. A short, muscular soldier, whom Paris recognized as the man who had disarmed them on their arrival at the palace, ordered four of his men to remove the bars from the gates and swing them open. Within moments, all eleven horses had dashed through and were racing down the empty, moonlit streets of the city.

'Don't risk the main gate,' Helen shouted over her shoulder. 'There are three times as many guards to convince and I doubt they'll all fall for the same trick.'

'Can these horses fly over the city walls then?' Paris laughed, enjoying the wind in his hair and the warmth of Helen's body enclosed within his.

'Of course not, but there's another way: a gate on the east wall that leads out to a small road. It was made for trade to come in from the eastern hills, so it isn't very wide we'll have to go through in single file but it also means there'll only be a handful of guards at best. Turn to the left down here.'

Paris followed her orders, keen to escape the claustrophobia of the city and know the freedom of the plains once more. The others kept close behind, the sound of hooves on flagstones echoing noisily between the narrow walls as they made their way through the city. Eventually they entered a final, short avenue where the dirt had been heavily rutted by the wheels of innumerable carts. This led to the high city walls and a slender gateway, which stood open to reveal the gentle blue hills beyond. Three guards were drinking wine and swapping stories, hoping to fend off the inevitable a.s.sault of sleep that always threatened the midnight watch. As the clatter of hooves approached, though, they s.n.a.t.c.hed up their s.h.i.+elds and spears and ran out into the road.

Paris halted Lipse and signalled the men behind to attack. Couching their captured spears under their arms, three Trojans sprang forward. One of the guards threw down his arms and ran up a side street, his cowardice preserving his worthless life for another day. His braver comrades were barely able to raise their weapons in time to meet the charging hors.e.m.e.n: the first was spitted through the throat and fell beneath the hooves of a tall grey stallion; the second died instantly with a spear through the bridge of his nose, splitting his head open.

The victorious hors.e.m.e.n did not wait to exult in their victory, but with deft flicks of their heels drove their mounts on through the open gate, drawing their swords to deal with any guards that might be waiting on the other side. When one of them returned to signal that the path was clear, Paris led the rest of the party through in single file. Suddenly they were looking at the rolling plains on all sides, at the broad Eurotas River at the foot of the slope, and at the cloudless, star-speckled firmament above. Some were breathing deeply, enjoying the fresh air of their freedom; others were laughing. Helen simply laid her head against Lipse's neck and gazed out to the Taygetus Mountains in the west, their familiar outline black against the deep blue of the night sky.

'Say goodbye to it all,' Paris said, running his hand down the middle of her back. 'Soon you'll be on a fast s.h.i.+p, listening to the hiss of the waves before the prow and tasting the salt spray on your lips. There's nothing like it.'

'And then Troy,' she whispered, closing her eyes and trying to imagine what the foreign city would look like.

'Not straight away,' Paris said. 'Any pursuit will go there first, and I can't risk that. No, we'll head south, to Egypt, then work our way back up the coast. It'll take longer, but there's no hurry and it'll be much safer. Think of it as a honeymoon, if you like.'

Helen opened a single eye to look at him. His tanned skin looked paler in the moonlight and the scar that ran down his face and into his beard shone white. It was a brutal face, but there was also strength and independence in it, a wild undercurrent that reached out and touched something deep within her. It was a quality she could feel throbbing through her like a heartbeat, and with a contented sigh she knew she would be happy with Paris. If only Menelaus would let her go.

'My lord!'

Paris turned to look at Exadios, whose urgent shout had startled them all, and with an angry curse he realized they had lingered too long. Towards the west, a large troop of hors.e.m.e.n was leaving the main gateway to the city and forming up before the hump-backed bridge that crossed a tributary of the Eurotas River. There were at least fifty of them, and more were still emerging from the gate.

Suddenly, one of them gave a shout and pointed towards the party of Trojans. Then the whole troop were galloping towards them, losing any semblance of order in their eagerness to save their queen and have revenge on the foreign thieves.

'There's a bridge in the trees at the foot of the slope,' Helen said. 'It's wide enough and strong enough for a wagon, so we'll get across if we're quick.'

'And have your countrymen pursue us to our doom?' Apheidas snorted. 'I'd rather stand and fight.'

'There's no need,' Exadios told him. 'Take the woman and her boy across the bridge and ride as fast as you can. With you and Aeneas for protection, you should all make the s.h.i.+p before dawn. The rest of us'll buy you the time you need.'

'Don't be stupid, Exadios!' Paris said. 'They'll slaughter you.'

'No time to argue,' the warrior smiled, and with a series of orders formed his comrades into line. Moments later they were drawing their swords and trotting out to meet the approaching onslaught of the Spartan hors.e.m.e.n.

Paris turned the head of his horse to go after them, but Apheidas leaned across and grabbed his arm.

'Exadios is right,' he hissed. 'It's the only way any of us will escape. Now, don't let their sacrifice be wasted.'

'Come on then,' Paris said angrily. 'I'm sick of this d.a.m.ned country.'

He watched as the two lines of hors.e.m.e.n charged towards each other, hoping that the woman seated before him was worth the deaths of his men. He had surrendered his honour for her, risking the wrath of the G.o.ds and the avenging fury of Menelaus; and for a moment he wondered whether he had done the right thing. Then she looked up at him, the wind whipping strands of black hair across her face, and like countless men before him he knew no price was too steep to possess her. Unlike them, though, he knew Helen wanted his love. He had given her her freedom and she was giving it straight back to him.

He turned Lipse's head towards the bridge and dug his heels into her flanks. She covered the remaining distance at a gallop, followed closely by Apheidas and Aeneas.

Chapter Eight.

ON HERMES'S MOUNT It was a bright morning and the blue skies were filled with the harsh cawing of seagulls. They swept about the rooftops of Odysseus's palace and the surrounding houses, landing and taking off, and fighting with each other over the sc.r.a.ps of food the townsfolk had thrown out for their livestock. A cooling breeze swept across the channel from Samos, was.h.i.+ng away the stink of fish from the day's catch and carrying in the smell of pine from the thinly wooded slopes of Mount Neriton.

The large expanse of open ground before the palace walls was thronged with people. Slaves bartered at the stalls of the many fishermen or haggled noisily with farmers who stood atop carts filled with grain or vegetables. A pair of herdsmen were driving in a score of pigs, using their sticks liberally on the pink backsides and shouting instructions to their dogs. Under the shade of a large olive tree a group of old men were watching the progress of a board game, giving advice or deriding unwise moves; colourful birds sat beside them in willow cages, singing cheerfully to each other. Young children were everywhere, clinging to their mothers or playing games that involved an unending flow of chasing and hiding.

Underneath the palace walls, not far from the folding gates, sat a semicircle of four boys and nine girls. They did not seem to mind the nearby dung pile, which had not been collected for three days and stank horribly; instead, their attention was fixed on a short, chubby boy with curly brown hair and large, staring eyes. He sat against the wall on an upturned basket and looked round at his audience.

'When the resourceful Odysseus realized Penelope had been captured by Polytherses and his Taphians, he devised a plan to get into the palace and free her. With Mentor and Antiphus, he hid in a large clay pithos filled with wine and was carried through the heavily guarded gates on the back of a cart.'

'How did they breathe?' said a sandy-haired boy with skinny limbs and a long neck. 'I mean, how did they breathe if the pithos was full of wine?'

'They waited until the last moment, and then when the long-speared Taphians stepped forward to check the s.h.i.+pment, they ducked their heads under the surface of the dark wine and breathed through straws.'

'See!' said a fiery-eyed girl with dark skin and long hair bunched up on top of her head. 'Now, why don't you shut up and let Omeros tell the story?'

Omeros held up his hands.

'Thank you, Melantho-of-the-pretty-cheeks,' he said, making the girl blush coyly. 'Now, after the cart had pa.s.sed through the gates those very gates to my right and night had fallen, Odysseus, Mentor and Antiphus slipped from their hiding place and began their butchers' work, slitting the throats of the sleeping Taphians until the courtyard was awash with their blood. Fully a hundred were dead by the time rosy-fingered Dawn appeared, and then the mercenaries woke and discovered what was going on. Up they leapt and, seizing their bronze-tipped spears and leather s.h.i.+elds, set upon the three Ithacans with a great fury.'

Omeros scowled and thrust an imaginary sword towards one of the girls, making her fall back with a squeal.

'At that moment a horn blew from beyond the walls. Out of the mist, striding across the plain came G.o.dlike Eperitus, leading an army of stout-hearted Ithacans.' Omeros stood and pointed to the broad terrace behind the other children. Every head turned, and in their minds' eyes the throng of slaves, peasants and tradesmen became an army, marching resolutely towards the palace walls. 'Halitherses of the great war cry was with them; Eumaeus the swineherd and Arceisius, Eperitus's squire, too. With a great shout they ran towards the gates, from which hundreds of Taphians were already issuing, eager to meet them in battle.'

Eperitus and Arceisius stood un.o.bserved by the gates, listening to the story.

'There you go,' said Arceisius, his mouth full of apple. 'Why go to the mainland to seek glory when we've already been immortalized in song at home?'

'Omeros is eleven,' Eperitus replied, s.n.a.t.c.hing the apple from his squire's hand and taking a large bite. 'Besides, the boy's imagination knows no limits where'd he get this "G.o.dlike Eperitus" from, for instance?'

'Now then, sir, you can't l.u.s.t after fame one moment and get embarra.s.sed when you receive it the next.'

Eperitus tossed the apple-core on the dung heap. 'Come on, let's find Odysseus. We don't want to miss Telemachus's dedication, and afterwards I will ask the king's permission to go.'

'I was beginning to think you'd changed your mind about that,' Arceisius said. 'It's been a month since Telemachus was born and you haven't mentioned anything more about leaving Ithaca.'

'I meant what I said, Arceisius. Did you?'

Arceisius nodded, firmly but without enthusiasm. Then, as Eperitus made to go, he threw his arm across the captain's chest.

'Wait a moment, sir,' he said, pointing into the crowd. 'Here come Eupeithes's boy, Antinous, and his cronies. They'll be looking for trouble, or I'm a Taphian.'

'They mean trouble, all right,' Eperitus agreed, eyeing the newcomers with distaste. 'We'd better see what they're up to.'

A group of three boys strutted up to the circle of children, just as Omeros was describing the moment when Odysseus shot dead the traitor Polytherses. Antinous, a tall, slim boy of fourteen with an arrogant face and a pampered air, scoffed at the story.

'That oaf couldn't hit a horse's a.r.s.e at point-blank range, let alone shoot a man through the eye in a darkened hall. You should take your ridiculous songs and tell them to the seagulls, Omeros, for all the truth that's in them.'

'Everyone knows Odysseus shot my father in the back,' rumbled Ctessipus, a large boy with a single eyebrow and a flattened nose. 'And if you tell any more lies about him, I'll chuck you on that dung pile and you can sing to the flies and worms, if you like.'

The boys stared menacingly at Omeros's audience, who began to slink away until only Melantho was left. She scowled at the third boy, a rather slow-looking lout who was trying desperately to avoid her eye.

'Melanthius,' she spat, 'if you don't clear off at once and take these two vultures with you, I'm going straight to Pa and telling him you've been up to no good again.'

Melanthius s.h.i.+fted uncomfortably, but was saved from answering his sister by Omeros.

'It's all right, Melantho. Perhaps they would like to sit down and listen to the rest of the story.' He turned to the three boys and indicated the recently vacated s.p.a.ces before him. 'I'm afraid you've missed the part about how Eupeithes usurped the throne, then was himself betrayed by Polytherses but as they were your fathers, I expect you already know the story. Maybe you'd like to hear of how Odysseus found Eupeithes in a storeroom, still chained up where Polytherses had left him?'

Both Antinous and Ctessipus leapt at Omeros, brandis.h.i.+ng their fists and preparing to give him a beating. But before they could reach him they were pulled back by two pairs of strong arms.

'Steady now,' said Eperitus, hardly able to suppress his laughter as Antinous struggled against his firm grip. 'Or you might hurt yourself.'

Arceisius, who was not as powerful as Eperitus and only a little bigger than Ctessipus, had already lost patience with his prisoner. With a grunt, he threw him over his shoulder, carried him to the dung pile and tossed him on it. At the sight of this, Antinous ceased his thras.h.i.+ng and fell limp, whilst Melanthius quickly disappeared into the crowd pursued by his sister, who was berating him loudly as she chased after him.

'Be on your way, lad,' Eperitus said, cuffing Antinous's mop of blond hair, 'and don't let me hear you've been in any more trouble.'

Antinous turned and scowled at the captain of the palace guard, tears of anger and embarra.s.sment flooding down his cheeks. He bit back the words he wanted to say and, ignoring Ctessipus's plea to help him out of the dung heap, stormed off into the throng of people.

'You shouldn't provoke them, Omeros,' Eperitus warned the young storyteller. 'You're nothing more than a whelp compared to them, and one day they'll give you the thras.h.i.+ng you deserve.'

'Perhaps they will,' Omeros answered, jumping off his basket and following the two warriors as they navigated their way through the crowds. 'But it's precisely because they're bigger than me that I'm always baiting them. I can't defeat them physically, so I might as well humiliate them with my words.'

'Which is why Odysseus likes you so much,' Arceisius said. He took three barley cakes from a basket and gave the seller a wink. The man shook his head resignedly and continued haggling with a fat, red-faced woman.

Omeros took a bite of the cake Arceisius handed him, then caught up with Eperitus.

'Sir, the king was looking for you earlier.'

'And I've been looking for him ever since I finished my duties this morning. Do you know where he is?'

'He was on his way to Hermes's Mount, with the queen and their baby. He said to tell you that he has gone ahead to make everything ready and will be waiting for you there.'

'Then perhaps you should have been looking for me rather than lazing about and telling your friends stories,' Eperitus said, looking at the boy with as much sternness as he could muster. 'But I suppose I can't blame you. Odysseus shouldn't entrust his messages to daydreamers.'

'I won't always be a daydreamer, sir,' Omeros responded, looking hurt. 'People need stories and bards to tell them or where's the enjoyment in life? If we didn't give them tales of love, war and glory then no one would have anything to live up to.'

'And if you left us all alone, we could lead contented lives and not be blighted by impossible dreams,' Eperitus countered. 'Anyway, I'd be wary of becoming a bard if I were you. Most end up as little more than tramps, wandering from palace to palace to earn sc.r.a.ps from the tables of the powerful.'

'Some say that about warriors, too, sir,' Omeros suggested, stepping back a little as Eperitus gave him another stern glance. 'But I don't intend to be a wandering storyteller I will be bard to the court of King Odysseus himself, and King Telemachus after him.'

Eperitus turned to Arceisius and signalled for him to catch up. 'Well, if that's what you want, then you should start telling things as they really were. How many times have I had to remind you Odysseus didn't enter the palace in a pithos of wine? He was disguised as a wine merchant.'

'But it doesn't sound as good, sir. Too much truth can ruin a story, and, besides, the king says he prefers my version.'

'Odysseus has never been a great respecter of honesty, and you should be careful of following his example,' Eperitus warned. 'He was born with the cunning of a fox and knows more than most men about how to live by his wits; but even for him there's a fine line between trickery and dishonour.'

Omeros was about to reply, but was silenced by the arrival of Arceisius.

'Odysseus is waiting for us at Athena's sacred grove on Hermes's Mount,' Eperitus informed his squire. 'We should go and find him now, and leave this young rascal to evade Antinous and his cronies.'

The two men turned and walked in the direction of the low, wooded hump of Hermes's Mount, which lay to the north-west of the town, but as they moved free of the crowd and began along the dirt track that led to the hill Omeros called after them.

'Don't forget that warriors need bards, too, sir. Without us, your acts of glory are worthless.'

'He's right, you know,' Arceisius laughed.

Eperitus said nothing. He was already thinking of what he had to say to Odysseus after Telemachus had been dedicated to the G.o.ds, and what the cost of his own search for glory would be.

A strong wind bl.u.s.tered up from the sea, flattening the blades of gra.s.s that clung to the exposed flank of Hermes's Mount. Eperitus and Arceisius held their cloaks about them as they walked towards the lonely thicket of pines that stood tall and dark in the centre of the sloping meadow, enduring the gusts that howled through its interlocked branches. Many years before, Odysseus's grandfather had met Athena walking through the grove, where she had given him her blessing; since that day it had been considered a sacred place by all Ithacans, and especially the rulers of the island.

As they approached, they could see Odysseus standing beneath the eaves of the small wood. His auburn hair was blowing wildly in the wind as his keen eyes looked out over the Ionian Sea, oblivious to their approach. He was mouthing a silent prayer in preparation for the dedication of his son, and from time to time would close his eyes and bow his head.

Behind him stood Penelope, the knuckles of her fists white as she gripped the edges of her cloak. Her eyes, narrowed against the gale, were fixed upon her husband. At her right shoulder was her nurse, Actoris, whose back was turned against the squall to protect the baby in her arms. Eurybates, Odysseus's squire and herald, was also with them; he held a struggling lamb in his arms and carried two skins over his shoulder, one filled with wine and the other with water.

Then Odysseus spotted the two figures coming across the meadow and waving at him in the bright suns.h.i.+ne. He waved back, and then, cupping his hands over his mouth so that the wind would not s.n.a.t.c.h away his words, called out, 'Where've you been? Didn't Omeros find you?'

'We found him,' Eperitus said as he and Arceisius reached the relative cover of the grove. 'Telling stories by the dung heap, as usual. If he'd given us your message straight away we'd have been here a long time ago.'

'No matter,' Penelope smiled. 'You're here now, and the G.o.ds are waiting. Odysseus, are you ready?'

'I'm ready,' he replied. 'Actoris, give Telemachus to his mother. Eurybates, make sure the sacrifice is willing.'

The squire knelt and placed the lamb on the ground, holding it fast by the scruff of its neck. He pulled a wooden bowl from the woollen bag at his hip and placed it on the ground in front of the gently bleating lamb, then filled it with a slop of water from one of the skins hanging from his shoulder. After a moment of uncertainty, the animal bowed its head to drink. Satisfied it had indicated its consent to be sacrificed, Eurybates removed the bowl and pa.s.sed the skin to Odysseus.

After the king had washed his hands, he drew a dagger from his belt and beckoned for the animal. Pinning it against his muscular chest so that it could barely move, he cut some of the coa.r.s.e black hair from its head and held it fast between his thumb and the blade. Holding it in the air above his head, he released it into the wind and watched it sail off towards the grey ma.s.s of ocean to the north. Eurybates took the lamb again as Odysseus turned to receive the swaddled baby from Penelope's arms. The boy woke and began to cry as his father removed the double-layer of white wool and lifted his naked red body over his head. Penelope instinctively raised a hand, fearful for her little Telemachus, then forced it down again.