Chapter Fourteen
THE LEGEND OF PELOPS
Agamemnon’s tent was bright and airy, filled with the early morning light that filtered in through its cotton and flax walls. It was essentially the same tent he had used when the fleet had gathered at Aulis so long ago, although it was enlarged in places and the canvas panels were replaced from time to time to keep it looking clean and white. From their first arrival on the shores of Ilium, Agamemnon had refused to follow the other leaders and build himself a hut, seeing it as defeatist and a signal to the army that he did not believe in a swift victory. And as the years of war had passed, his resolve had grown stronger, though the rich furnishings, the thick furs over the floor, the wide, oblong hearth at its centre and the many guards and slaves made the tent more a palace than a temporary military headquarters.
Eperitus barely noticed the familiar surroundings as he stood with his hands behind his back, lost in his own thoughts. Helenus was beside him, noticeably nervous as he waited in the quarters of Troy’s chief enemy, while opposite him Odysseus was standing with his arms crossed, his green eyes keenly watching the three men seated on the other side of the hearth. Agamemnon, Menelaus and Nestor were bent in towards each other, their heads almost touching as they spoke together in hushed voices. Eperitus’s gaze fell on Agamemnon, whom he hated, and moved away again. If he had wanted to, Eperitus could have heard everything they said, but he preferred to think on the words Helenus had shared with him on the slow journey back from the temple of Thymbrean Apollo. Words he should have dismissed with all his heart and mind, but which even his usually resolute spirit could not.
It began when Helenus had mentioned Astynome in the temple. Eperitus’s heartbeat had quickened at the sound of her name and his thoughts slid in an avalanche back to the girl whose beauty had opened up his guard, and whose treachery had then wounded him deeper than any Trojan spear could ever have done. Since he had watched her ride away from the temple that night with Apheidas, her master, he had resolved to drive her out of his mind and heart; to disregard her false promises of marriage and children and return to the warrior’s creed of immortality through glory. But the passion of his younger years – when he had not known love and his only desire was to win honour and renown on the battlefield – seemed cold and lonely compared to her, a poor comforter when he wanted nothing more than to forget the woman who had conquered him. So when Helenus had ridden up beside him and repeated the words Astynome had spoken in Apheidas’s garden, that she was the one who had encouraged the prince to betray Troy and reveal the oracles to the Greeks, Eperitus felt his resolve against her weaken. She was letting him know she was prepared to see her beloved Troy defeated by the hated Greeks for his sake; that her loyalty was not to her homeland or to Apheidas, but to him. It was a message that his anger wanted to reject, and he might have found the determination to rid her from his thoughts again if Helenus had not placed a hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eye.
‘Whatever it was she did to betray your trust,’ he had said, ‘she’s changed. I don’t understand women and I know nothing about love, but that servant girl loves you. She confessed as much to me, and I believe her.’
As Eperitus turned the words over and over again in his mind, the three kings ended their discussion and sat up. Agamemnon leaned to one side of his heavy fur-draped chair and rested his chin on his fist.
‘You say these visions were given to you in a dream,’ he said, eyeing Helenus coldly.
‘Yes, my lord. In the temple of Thymbrean Apollo.’
‘And you haven’t told them to your father.’
‘To no-one at all. Odysseus was the first to hear them.’
‘And we’re supposed to believe this is because you wanted to marry my wife, but she was given to Deiphobus instead,’ Menelaus said.
There was a dark look in his eyes, still furious from the news that Helen had already been married off to another of Priam’s sons. Helenus was about to reply, but Odysseus spoke first.
‘He was angry at Helen’s treatment – being forced to marry against her will. Didn’t you hear what he said, Menelaus? That she begged to be sent back to you?’
‘A lie,’ the Spartan snarled. ‘If she wanted me, she’d have found a way back years ago. The truth is your little prince wanted her for himself, or – what’s more likely – he’s been sent here by his father to trick us. These oracles are nothing more than a distraction, to send us chasing after our own tails rather than attacking the walls of Troy in earnest!’
‘A trick?’ Helenus snorted, his princely arrogance getting the better of him. He stepped forward and pointed a finger at Menelaus. ‘And what would such a trick achieve? At the most, one or two galleys sent to find a dead man’s shoulder bone and fetch a boy from his mother’s arms. If I’d been sent to fool you, wouldn’t I have been better directing half your army to besiege some distant city, or leading you into a well-planned trap?’
‘The lad’s right, Menelaus,’ Nestor added. ‘Besides, some of it, at least, makes sense. The Palladium, for instance. We’ve long known the value the Trojans place on that.’
Menelaus gave a derisive laugh.
‘And how do you propose we steal Troy’s favourite ornament? Knock on the gates and ask them to let us in? It’s just a lump of old wood, Nestor.’
‘The Palladium is sacred,’ Helenus protested. ‘Athena made it in honour of her friend, Pallas, whom she killed in an accident.’
‘We have enough divine trinkets of our own,’ Menelaus said. He pointed at the ornate golden sceptre that lay on a table nearby. ‘That rod was made by Hephaistos for Zeus himself, who in turn gave it to Hermes before he gave it to Pelops, my grandfather. The man whose tomb you want us to desecrate! Philoctetes has a bow that once belonged to immortalised Heracles, and Odysseus standing beside you owns a complete set of armour that Hephaistos made for Achilles at the request of his mother, Thetis. And that’s just to name a few of the god-made heirlooms that we possess.’
‘That isn’t the point of the Palladium,’ Odysseus said. ‘The Trojans hold that it fell from heaven into the temple of Athena when it was still being built. The first king of Troy, Ilus, was told in a dream that the city would never be conquered as long as the image remained in the temple. If we could find a way to take it from them, the blow to their morale alone would be significant.’
‘And Neoptolemus?’ Agamemnon asked. ‘Why would the gods have us fetch Achilles’s son here to Ilium? He can’t be much more than fifteen years old.’
‘His father was only a little older when he joined the army,’ Eperitus said. ‘And if Neoptolemus is even half the man Achilles was, then wouldn’t he be worth the voyage to Scyros?’
‘Achilles had many qualities, but not all of them were good,’ Agamemnon replied. ‘Do you forget the Trojans broke into this camp while he sat idle and nearly torched the fleet, all because Achilles’s wounded pride would not permit him to fight?’
‘Achilles made the mistake of believing his whims were more important than the war itself,’ Odysseus said. ‘But the gods knew better, and when Achilles’s pride led to the death of Patroclus, his friend and lover, he knew it too. We shouldn’t fool ourselves into thinking these oracles can be ignored. As Helenus says, it’ll require nothing more than a galley or two to fetch Neoptolemus from Scyros and Pelops’s bone from –’
‘The strangest oracle of them all, don’t you think?’ Agamemnon interrupted, narrowing his icy blue eyes as he focussed on Odysseus. ‘I understand the Palladium, and even Neoptolemus; but my grandfather’s shoulder bone?’