The Gates Of Troy Part 13

The great bastion jutted out from the walls and it was not until the party had pa.s.sed the strange G.o.ds that they saw the gateway to the citadel, hidden in the shadow of the tower. Its carved wooden doors were already open and the two guardsmen stepped aside at a word from Antenor.

'And Paris?' asked Menelaus sternly, eyeing the black, rectangular mouth of the gateway. 'Is he a fighter like his brother, or a womanizer like his father?'

'Paris is a warrior, too,' Antenor said, choosing not to defend Priam or Paris against the Spartan's insults. His voice echoed slightly as they walked beneath the thick walls, where the air was cool and smelled of damp. 'Not of Hector's calibre, but he is known for his ferocity in battle and his strong sense of duty. And to further answer your question, Odysseus, Paris also speaks Greek, though he and Hector are unique in this among Priam's fifty sons.'

They emerged into the sunlight again and for the first time set their eyes upon the might and glory of Pergamos. On their left the walls fed out in a line to the west, while on their right they curved up and back to the north-east. Their thickness had already been made clear as they walked through the gate into the citadel, but now the visitors were able to see the wide parapets on top where four fully-armed men could walk abreast and the steep flights of steps leading up to them. At the foot of the walls were long wooden huts, where scores of heavily armed guards stared with hostile curiosity at the newcomers.

Beyond the gates, the citadel rose up in three distinct levels. Each new tier was separated from its predecessor by a sloping wall and the only way up was via a succession of stone ramps. Although the entrance to Pergamos was barely wide enough for one wagon to squeeze through at a time, the road beyond it was broad and well paved with flat cobbles. Indeed, as Antenor led the Greeks up the busy road, they could see two wool-laden wagons climbing the hill ahead of them, drawn easily abreast of each other so that the drivers could chat freely.

Lines of poplar trees stood on either side of the road, providing shade for the numerous townsfolk as they went about their daily business. By their dress, a quarter of them were wealthy n.o.bles and probably lived or worked in the many tall, well-built and highly decorated buildings of the citadel. The rest were merchants, tradesmen, warriors and slaves, an even mixture of men and women from every craft and profession imaginable. From farmers to washerwomen and priests to prost.i.tutes, the many different roles and trades flowed together to form a great stream of humanity that swirled and eddied through the wide, teeming streets of Pergamos, as powerful a demonstration of Troy's wealth as the great buildings that filled the citadel.

Eperitus had never imagined such greatness could exist and stared open-mouthed at the two-and even three-storeyed structures that rose up all around him. The others shared his awe, particularly Palamedes, who gazed about himself with a look of wonder and joy on his face. Even Menelaus who had seen the most powerful cities in Greece looked with reluctant admiration at the dozens of mansions and temples crowded together on either side of the road. Antenor, who had seen them almost every day of his life, pointed out each building with pride, eager for his guests to appreciate the glory that made Troy famous throughout Asia and the Aegean.

'This mansion,' he said as they mounted the ramp to the first tier, indicating a palatial building over their left shoulders, 'is home to some of Priam's sons, where they live with their wives, children and slaves. There are many houses like it in on the lower tiers of the citadel, where other members of the royal family and high-born n.o.bles live. Those buildings ahead of us are the temples of Athena and Zeus.'

Eperitus looked to the second tier, where on either side of the lines of poplars were two of the largest constructions he had ever seen. Both were fronted with marble columns and had wide, dark entrances reached by narrow flights of steps. The one to the right was tall and long, and on the plinth before it stood a large wooden statue of a male G.o.d, scaled to twice the size of a man. It had been painted with bright colours though the once vivid hues had been faded by years of sunshine and rain and its clothing was picked out with flashes of gold. A beard was visible on its chin and its right arm was raised in readiness to strike, though its hand was empty. By these tokens, Eperitus guessed the statue was meant to represent Zeus, though it did not clutch the customary thunderbolt.

On the opposite side of the ramp, which the party was now mounting, stood the temple of Athena. Though not as high as the temple of Zeus, it was wider and more square in shape. On a plinth before it was an oversized figure of Athena, dressed in a chiton though not sporting her usual helmet, spear and aegis. The wood had been recently repainted and now the purple clothing with its gold hem gleamed in the early morning sun, while the G.o.ddess's brown eyes looked down her long nose at the pa.s.sers-by. Unlike the temple of Zeus, a dozen armoured warriors stood or sat on the bottom steps, their spearheads and helmets flashing viciously in the sunlight.

'I'd like to pay my respects to the G.o.ddess on our way back, if I may,' Odysseus said.

Antenor smiled. 'Of course. No visitor to Pergamos should leave without seeing the temple of Athena. Along with the temples of Zeus and Apollo which lies in the western corner of the citadel there are no more sacred or awe-inspiring sights in the whole of Ilium. It also holds the famous Palladium, on which the fate of Troy depends.'

'The Palladium?' Eperitus enquired, trying to make his interest sound purely casual. 'What's that?'

Antenor looked at him with genuine surprise. 'You mean to say you haven't heard of our precious Palladium?'

Eperitus shook his head.

'Me neither,' said Odysseus. 'What manner of thing can carry the fate of a city with it? No, let me guess. It holds Priam's treasure and funds his armies?'

'Oh, no,' said Antenor, shaking his head dismissively. 'It has no value. In fact, it's nothing more than a small wooden effigy, about . . . so big, and with no legs.'

Eperitus caught Odysseus's eye and gave him a questioning glance.

'That's ridiculous,' Menelaus said, gruffly. 'How can Troy's safety depend on a lump of wood?'

'Because it's no mere lump of wood, my lord. They say that it fell from heaven when the city was first built. The temple was nearing completion when the Palladium came down through an unfinished gap in the roof and landed before the altar, where it sits to this day. Ilus, the founder of the city, was told in a dream that the image had been made by Athena herself, in memory of her dead friend Pallas, and as long as the image was preserved then Troy would be preserved with it. Some say it's just a legend the same voices that say the walls were not built by Poseidon and Apollo but most believe the story to be the truth. That's why Priam keeps guards there day and night.'

They had reached the ramp to the final and highest tier of the city, where a dozen warriors stood in a line with their shields and spears at the ready. They eyed the approach of the Greeks with suspicion and, unlike the other guards they had met, did not move aside at the sight of Antenor. Instead, their officer stepped forward and questioned the old man in a hushed voice, before ordering his men back and waving the visitors brusquely up the ramp.

And so, they had finally reached the palace of King Priam. As Eperitus sat in the cool, high-ceilinged antechamber to the throne room, waiting to be summoned into the king's presence, he pondered the size and magnificence of the palace as he had first seen it from the top of the ramp. Odysseus's home in Ithaca could not compare; neither could the palace in Alybas, where he had spent his youth. Although Menelaus's palace was similar in size, even that lacked the sheer beauty of the building that crowned the highest tier of Troy. The tall marble colonnades soared up to the heavens and left the visitor feeling daunted, whilst the many alcoves and stone plinths with their painted idols made certain that no one could doubt the reverence in which Troy held the G.o.ds. But most magnificent of all were the limestone walls and their large, richly decorated murals. These depicted many scenes from Trojan life: warriors fighting shield to shield; ships floating on seas full of dolphins; forests alive with bears, lions and all manner of creatures; but above all, the murals were filled with images of horses. Some were with riders and others without; many ran free, while more were being trained or were tethered to chariots. Antenor, when asked, explained all Trojans had a pa.s.sion for horses, and Eperitus who had loved horses since his childhood and had always rued the lack of them on Ithaca was beginning to regret that war might be necessary against such an accomplished civilization.

At that point, the doors to the throne room swung open with a heavy wooden creaking to reveal a short, grey-bearded man in a long robe. In his right hand he carried a staff, which he beat importantly on the stone floor three times.

'His magnificence, King Priam, ruler of Troy, emperor of Ilium and all its protectorates and va.s.sal states, guardian of the east and favourite of Zeus, bids you welcome. Those who wish to be humbled by his presence will please follow me.'

Chapter Fourteen.

THE HOUSE OF KING PRIAM.

Leaving Antiphus, Polites and Arceisius in the antechamber, the others followed the herald through the doors into a long, high-ceilinged chamber that echoed their footsteps as they entered. A rectangular hearth stretched before them, filled with purple flames that shivered on a bed of grey coals. Six black columns stood on either side of it; on a low dais at the far end was an empty stone seat with a high back, partially obscured by the haze of smoke and heat that trailed up from the fire.

The Greeks approached the four chairs that had been provided for them, while Antenor went to one of the many seats that lined each of the long sides of the hearth. Other than the throne and a single stool at the foot of the dais, every chair was now occupied and there was a large commotion of unintelligible voices as the Greeks took their places. The seats were of carved wood with a thin covering of silver plate and, despite the cushions, were uncomfortable. This and the scores of foreign faces that were now staring at them gave them a feeling of being criminals brought to trial, rather than honoured guests.

Eperitus sat on the far left next to Menelaus, whose eyes were scanning the crowd for sight of the hated Paris. Odysseus, sensing the Spartan king's growing anxiety, took the seat next to him and placed a large, rea.s.suring hand on his shoulder. Palamedes, on the far right, lowered the palms of his hands towards the fire, enjoying the sensation of the heat on his skin. As soon as they were seated a dozen slaves rushed to pile food on the tables of Greeks and Trojans alike baskets of bread, selections of nuts, cheeses, olives, grapes and fruit, platters of mutton or skewered fish and pour wine into silver goblets for the a.s.sembled n.o.bles.

Menelaus, stiff-backed, refused to either eat or drink. Palamedes also refrained, whilst Odysseus after washing his hands in one of the bowls provided helped himself to bread and mutton. Eperitus poured a small libation onto the flagstones at his feet, before raising the wine to his lips. It was the best he had ever tasted, and after a mouthful of the sweet, heady drink he felt refreshed and light-limbed. He looked about at Priam's throne room. It was unusually light, compared with the great halls of the Greek kings, with a broad column of blue daylight coming in through the lozenge-shaped vent in the ceiling, as well as several other shafts of light from openings high up on the walls. This was an innovation Eperitus had never seen before, and he could only guess that ducts had been built to pipe daylight from the roof into the hall. There were also numerous large torches fastened to the walls, which ensured that the magnificent murals that lined the room were not lost in shadow.

As with the architecture, dress and customs, the Trojan murals were very different from those of the Greeks. One whole wall was filled with a religious procession, featuring lines of priests, n.o.bles and sacrificial animals. Another was painted sky blue and filled with depictions of men fighting bulls and other animals. The next wall showed fishing boats on a sea of wavy blue lines that teemed with fish, while on the hills behind (with Mount Ida in the distance) were flocks of sheep and herds of wild horses. On the fourth side a golden-skinned shepherd played a lyre as another golden-skinned man was fitting great blocks of stone into a high wall. Beyond the unfinished battlements were scenes of everyday life: people spinning wool, smiths working glowing bronze rods over an anvil, a potter removing vases from a kiln. Both men and women were depicted, distinguishable by the way they wore their hair or the colour of their skin: the men were brown because they led active, outdoor lives, the women were white, reflecting the ideal of a life spent indoors.

Around the walls were a number of guards wearing the strange, scaled armour of the Trojans. The spears at their sides and the swords that hung in scabbards over their shoulders reminded Eperitus of his vulnerability, and he prayed silently for Athena's protection and a safe return to the ship. As he finished his prayer, a door opened quietly in a dark corner of the chamber and a stooping figure entered. His black cloak made him inconspicuous amidst the activity that filled the room, and as he moved along the southern wall below the mural of the religious procession only Eperitus's watchful eye seemed to notice him. He walked with a faltering hop, his left hand hanging limply at his side while his right dangled before his chest, like a child riding a pretend horse. Then, as he drew level with Eperitus, he turned and his pale skin and dark, sunken eyes became visible under the shadow of his hood. Eperitus recognized him at once as the man who had pushed his way through the crowds the night before.

'We must speak, Eperitus,' he said in perfect Greek, whispering so that only Eperitus's supernaturally sharp hearing could distinguish the words. 'Come to me.'

Eperitus felt as if his legs had been kicked from under him. How could this stranger have discovered his name? More disturbingly, how could he know that he would be able to hear a whisper across a crowded room? Eperitus turned and stared into the hearth, as if hoping the hiss of the flames would drown out his confusion.

'Priam will be here soon,' came the same whisper in his ear. 'We don't have long. Leave your friends and come to me. Now.'

Eperitus backed his chair away from the table and stood.

'I need to relieve myself,' he told Menelaus, who nodded briefly before returning to his scrutiny of the crowd.

Eperitus crossed to the back corner of the throne room, where a large amphora reeked of urine. He lifted his tunic and emptied his bladder, then sensed the presence of the hooded man behind him.

'Who are you?' he said, lowering the hem of his tunic and turning. 'How do you know my name?'

The man stared at him from beneath the shadow of his hood. His face was contorted by a constant series of twitches, but his dark eyes remained firmly fixed on Eperitus.

'I know many things, my friend. For example, I know you've come to seek the return of Menelaus's wife.'

'Then she's here in Troy?'

The man smiled. 'I did not say that, and if she is then I am not aware of it. Yet I know your mission all the same, and many other things besides. Perhaps you will be more convinced,' he added, seeing the look of scepticism in Eperitus's eyes, 'if I tell you that you were once brought back from death by Athena. Or if I say that I know you are ashamed of your past, and even now hate the mention of your father. I also know you are torn between your desire for war and your loyalty to Odysseus, who is keen to secure the peaceful return of Helen and go back home to his own family. And if that is not enough, then how about this: Odysseus has given you a powder to pour into Palamedes's wine that will now, what were his words that will have him emptying his bowels by the second gulp. Am I right?'

'You can't possibly know that any of that.'

'But I do, and much more. I know things about you that even you don't know yet.'

Eperitus felt his impatience growing. 'Stop talking in riddles and speak plainly. Tell me who you are and how you know these things, or by the name of Athena I'll knock you down where you stand.'

'My name is Calchas, son of Thestor, son of Idmon the Argonaut,' he announced, making Eperitus's eyes widen as he realized this was the man Athena had said would find him. He drew his hood back to reveal his shaven head, then opened his cloak to expose the white robes beneath. 'I'm a priest of Apollo. The G.o.d speaks to me in dreams sleeping and waking. It's a gift, a wonderful, terrible gift. It shows me things that few can see, and few should see.'

Calchas pulled the hood forward to cover his hairless scalp and fixed his gaze on Eperitus once more. The pain and the madness glistered like sunken treasure beneath the surface of his eyeb.a.l.l.s.

'And yet even I only see the shadow of things. Apollo allows me glimpses of the past, the present or the future, but I never see the complete picture. That's for the G.o.ds only. But I do know we live in momentous times, Eperitus. Our world is heading into a great terror a war that will choke Hades's halls with the dead and bring a lasting darkness in its wake. Apollo has revealed it to me, and it is horrifying.'

'But what's that got to do with me?' Eperitus asked, uncertain that he wanted any part of the priest's awful visions. 'I'm a warrior, not a prophet.'

'It has everything to do with you, Eperitus. War is inevitable, but the choices you make today will decide which of our nations will survive and which will be destroyed. Odysseus gave you that powder to pour in Palamedes's drink because he knows Palamedes is acting for Agamemnon and will try to prevent a peaceful agreement for the return of Helen. One dose of that, though,' the priest said, tapping Eperitus's leather pouch with his finger, 'and Palamedes will be spending the rest of the day crouched over a latrine somewhere, leaving Odysseus free to use his powers of persuasion on Priam. But we have to stop him succeeding; although Odysseus does not know it, the safety of Greece depends on Agamemnon laying siege to Troy.'

'And why should a Trojan care what happens to Greece?' Eperitus scoffed.

'I may be Trojan by birth,' Calchas responded, 'but my loyalty is to Apollo, not Priam. I do whatever the G.o.d tells me to do, and he has ordered me to abandon Troy and join the Greeks.'

'But Antenor says Apollo has always favoured Troy.'

'And he still does. But Zeus is intent on war between Greece and Troy, and out of obedience to his will Apollo has ordered me to offer my services to Agamemnon. You are to take me back with you to the gathering at Aulis yes, I know all about it so that I can speak with him. But first we must prevent Odysseus's attempt at peace.'

'If you think I'll disobey Odysseus for your sake, Calchas, then you're as mad as you look,' Eperitus said, angered by the priest's presumption. He was beginning to wonder whether Athena had been right to say he should listen to the man at all. 'I'm going back to my seat.'

'Hear me out, Eperitus!' Calchas hissed, grabbing his arm. 'If your king succeeds the war will still come, but on Trojan terms, not Greek. Why do you think there's an army camped on the plain? What about the warships in the harbour? Don't you understand? The Trojans are planning to attack Greece. And it'll be no raid, either it's going to be an invasion!'

Eperitus shook off Calchas's bony hand. 'Priam wouldn't dare.'

'No, he wouldn't. But Hector would. He's the real power behind Troy, not Priam as you'll soon see. If Agamemnon doesn't attack Troy first, then Hector will conquer Greece city by city until he makes it part of Priam's empire the empire he will inherit. Even Ithaca will fall, in the end. Do you believe me, Eperitus?'

Eperitus looked across the throne room to where Odysseus was sitting, pointedly ignoring Palamedes while trying to persuade Menelaus to eat some food. His friend had been optimistic about obtaining a peaceful resolution from the start, but was he just avoiding facing up to the inevitable? Ever since they had arrived in Troy Eperitus had sensed a threat; not just the curses and spitting of the crowd, but a deeper undercurrent. There was something sinister about the half-built war fleet and the gathering army camped on the plain, followed by the unwelcoming treatment they had received from Priam (or was that Hector's doing?). Even the large gathering of Trojan officials in Priam's throne room felt like a jury, waiting to decide the fate of the Greeks.

'Whether I believe you or not and I'm not saying I do how do you suggest I should prevent Odysseus from obtaining a peaceful solution?'

'Palamedes must be allowed to speak,' Calchas answered. 'If you don't pour the powder into his drink, he has the cunning and intelligence to upset Odysseus's plans. Odysseus will be angry, of course, but when he hears what I have to say he'll realize that war is inevitable anyway and will see reason.'

'You're a.s.suming I'll do what you want me to.'

Calchas looked at him carefully, reading the thoughts behind his eyes.

'That's your decision, Eperitus. But remember this: one way or another, the fate of all Greece is in your hands tonight. The army you saw on the plain is but the first crop of a mighty harvest. Before long other armies will join it, just as other ships will swell the Trojan fleet to an armada. If Odysseus gets his way he could be back with his family in a matter of weeks, but his happiness will be short-lived. Within a year or two Hector's conquering armies will have reached Ithaca, and then Odysseus will see his precious wife and son butchered by Trojan swords and his people enslaved. Think on that when you let your king negotiate a peaceful end to this matter.'

Eperitus looked thoughtfully at the stooping priest. 'You're asking me to defy him when he needs my loyalty most,' he said. 'And in other circ.u.mstances your impudence would earn you a beating, priest or not. But I've seen the Trojan army you speak of, and the fleet in the harbour, and something tells me you're right. So I'll think about what you ask, Calchas, and if Odysseus does fail, for whatever reason, I'll make sure that you return with us to Aulis.'

'Then I will go and wait for you by your ship Priam has already left his chamber and is on his way here with Hector. But first there is one other thing I have to say. It concerns you personally, Eperitus.'

'Go on,' Eperitus said apprehensively.

'I said I know things about you that you don't,' Calchas began, 'secret things that have been deliberately kept from you. I am forbidden to reveal what little I know about them, but the first is the answer to your heart's desires and will tempt you to stay away from the coming war you must not let it! Troy has to fall to the Greeks, and that cannot happen without both you and Odysseus. But the second is darker and equally compelling, and would draw you back to Ilium whether there is a war or not.'

'What are these things these secrets you speak of?' Eperitus urged, staring hard into Calchas's half-crazed eyes. 'Does Odysseus know?'

'Your friend is as ignorant of them as you are,' Calchas rea.s.sured him. 'Go to Agamemnon's city, Mycenae. One who lives there can reveal the first secret to you. More than that I cannot say.'

With that, the priest turned and slipped back out the way he had come. Eperitus waited for him to leave then returned to his seat, watched by Odysseus.

'Who was that?' the king asked. 'Didn't I see him in the crowd yesterday?'

'I'll tell you about it later,' Eperitus replied. 'This must be King Priam.'

At that moment, a large door to the side of the throne opened and two warriors in golden armour entered. They stood either side of the door and bowed their heads as a third man swept past them into the room. King Priam was tall a head higher than his escorts and dressed in a richly embroidered tunic and a crimson cloak that dragged along the floor behind him. His hair was a shiny black and his fringe had been carefully plaited in the same fashion as the younger Trojan men; but, though he must have been handsome in his youth, his quick brown eyes were now sunken with age and the skin of his long neck hung in folds beneath his chin. Even the thick layer of orange powder he wore could not hide the labyrinth of wrinkles that were etched across his face.

He was followed by his eldest son, Hector, whose dark, menacing eyes swept the room as he entered. He was nearly as tall as his father, but where Priam was lean, Hector was broad and powerfully built. Behind his thick black beard, his face was stern, hard and uncompromising, giving him an air of intimidating natural authority. This was accentuated by the simplicity of his clothing: a black, knee-length tunic and a woollen cloak, swept back over his shoulders to reveal a plain leather cuira.s.s and a belt with a silver dagger.

Upon reaching the throne, Priam turned and raised his hands in an extravagant greeting, a broad and pleasant smile on his face. From the moment he had entered, the chamber had been filled with the sc.r.a.ping of heavy wooden chairs as the Trojans regardless of age or rank threw themselves to the flagstones to grovel like dogs before their master. Now, as Priam surveyed the large, bright chamber, only the four Greeks dared to look back at him. Though they had stood out of respect, their pride forbade them to prostrate themselves before any man, king or not.

'Get down on your knees, you foreign swine,' said the old herald who had called them in from the antechamber. He was kneeling beside them with his forehead to the floor, talking from the side of his mouth and desperately trying to swipe at Eperitus's shins with his staff.

'Peace, Idaeus,' Priam commanded in his own language, his strong, clear voice ringing from the walls. 'Our guests can't be blamed if Antenor failed to instruct them in our ways. Besides, they no doubt believe themselves my equal I've heard there's no respect amongst Greeks, only pride and insolence. Now, my sons and friends, raise yourselves and let us hear what these people have to say. Antenor, please be so kind as to visit me in my personal quarters after this is over.'

The king lowered himself into his throne, while Hector sat on the stool at the foot of the dais, resting his chin on his fist and glaring at the a.s.sembly. As the rest of the Trojans lifted themselves from the floor and retook their seats, a bard ran his fingers skilfully across his lyre and began to sing. The sound of his voice was soft and clear, though unintelligible to the Greeks, and as he sang a crowd of slaves appeared with platters of food and cups of wine to replace those that had already been consumed. Priam rose again to pour the first libation to the G.o.ds, then lifted the shining golden goblet to his lips and took a mouthful.

'That's good!' he said with a smack of his lips. 'Idaeus, tell our friends to tuck in. If they're here to talk, they might as well do it on full stomachs.'

'King Priam says you should eat,' Idaeus informed the Greeks curtly.

Odysseus, seeing the eyes of every Trojan upon them, stood and poured his own libation, before taking a large gulp of wine and following it with a handful of goats' meat. Immediately the rest of the room began drinking and eating, and soon the smoky air was filled with the sound of voices and feasting.

Menelaus, however, continued to refuse all food and drink. As the cacophony continued and Priam showed no sign of asking the names and lineage of his guests or the purpose of their visit the Spartan king's impatience grew. Eventually, annoyed by what he saw as Priam's deliberate efforts to frustrate him, he slammed his great fist down on the table and stood up.

'You!' he said, pointing at Idaeus as the noise fell away and all eyes turned on him. 'Tell your king that the time for feasting is over. If he won't ask our names, as polite custom requires, then I'll give them to him: I am King Menelaus of Sparta, son of Atreus. This is King Odysseus of Ithaca, son of Laertes. Our two companions are Palamedes and Eperitus. We have sailed for many days on a mission of vital importance to both our peoples as, no doubt, you are fully aware yet since our arrival, Priam has treated us with nothing less than contempt. Are we dogs, that we should be kept outside the citadel walls until the king has finished toying with his women? Or are we kings, to be treated with the respect that our rank commands? However he regards us is immaterial to me, but I warn him to listen to what I have to say, or the whole of Ilium will have to face the consequences.'

Idaeus took a moment to comprehend what Menelaus had told him, then turned and translated it to his king. An angry murmur broke out from the gathered n.o.bles, but was silenced by a barked command from Hector.

'Tell King Menelaus we are fully aware of who he and his companions are,' the prince replied in a gravelly voice, leaning on his knees and staring directly at the Spartan. 'And that, since Anchises and Antenor were sent to request the return of my father's sister, Hesione, and were almost murdered for their efforts, we do not feel inclined to be lectured on matters of hospitality by Greeks. However, we respect the code of xenia and will gladly listen to the purpose of his mission, if he will share it with us.'

'Menelaus!' Odysseus hissed as they listened to Idaeus's translation. 'Curb your temper, man. Do you want Helen back or not?'

Menelaus glowered at his comrade, but took a deep breath and turned once more to face the royal dais.

'Very well, then, we can dispense with the formalities. If Hector wants to pretend he doesn't know the purpose of our visit, that's up to him. But as this matter concerns his brother, I demand that Paris is brought before this council so that all the facts can be heard and properly debated.'

Menelaus watched as Priam and Hector exchanged looks and hushed words. It was Priam, this time, who answered.

'Paris is not here,' he said, a look of concern in his eyes. 'I sent him to Greece to bargain for the return of Hesione, hoping my own son would succeed where all previous envoys have failed. Surely you've seen him?'

'That's a d.a.m.ned lie!' Menelaus shouted. 'I know he's here, and my wife's here with him!'

He gave a cry of rage and seized the edge of the table before him, tipping it over so that its contents spilled across the stone floor. The younger Trojans on either side sprang to their feet and made towards him, but were stopped by another bellowing command from Hector. Odysseus and Eperitus were up in an instant and had to use all their strength to drag Menelaus back to his chair.

'Eperitus,' Odysseus whispered, catching his friend's eye and nodding towards the cup on Palamedes's table. 'Do it now. He's been drinking like a horse all afternoon building up his courage, I expect. If you're quick, he won't even notice.'

Menelaus flopped back onto his chair and sank his face into his hands. Odysseus immediately left him and took two steps towards the hearth, so that all eyes were focused on his squat, triangular form.

'My friends,' he said, holding up his hands and looking around at the a.s.sembly, their faces glowing angrily in the light from the fire. Idaeus translated from behind his left shoulder. 'Honourable Trojans, I beg you to forgive my long-suffering comrade. If you knew what this man has been through these past few weeks, you'd understand his torment and look on him with pity, not the fury I see in your eyes now.'