But that would not happen. Inevitably, his father would return and he would be given the choice between instant death or a worthless life lived in dishonour and ignominy. Even these grim options, though, seemed unimportant compared to the consequences of his decision for those whom he cared about. For Odysseus, it meant a swift return home to his wife and the son he had barely known, or many more years on the shores of Ilium, held by an oath that could never be fulfilled. For Astynome, it could mean being sent to Agamemnon as a gift, to become his plaything. And whatever his choice, Apheidas would strike his deal with the King of Men and declare himself the new ruler of Troy.
With nothing else to distract him, the same arguments passed through his mind again and again, following a monotonous loop that he could not convert to a decision. For though his logic told him he had no choice but to agree to his father’s proposal, his deeply rooted hatred for the man and his stubborn desire not to dishonour himself refused to acquiesce. It was a nightmare from which he could see no escape.
Then a twitching in his senses told him something had changed. He looked down at the flickering thread of gold beneath the door and somehow knew the guards outside were no longer alone. Had morning arrived at last? he wondered. Had his father come for his decision? If so, the guards seemed unconscious of his presence: there were no slight sounds of sudden alertness, just the continued heavy breathing and occasional scratching of one, mingled with the light snores of the other. Was it Clymene again? She had already changed his bandages, shortly after he had been brought back from the garden. Maybe Astynome? The thought delighted him, but his delight turned quickly to fear as he realised she might have come to fulfil her final promise to him, desperately thinking she could overcome the guards herself.
As tension gripped him, there was an abrupt clatter of noise beyond the door of his prison. One of the guards – who must have been sitting – jumped up with a metallic clang of armour and spoke in a sharp tone. His words became suddenly fearful and were cut off by a grunt and a bloody gurgle, followed by the thump of a body hitting the floor. A muffled groan indicated the last waking moment of the other guard. In the silence that was left, Eperitus’s keen hearing could discern laboured breathing and small, hurried movements. Then the heavy wooden bar was removed from the other side of the door and Eperitus sat up with wary expectancy.
The door swung inwards and rebounded from the jamb, only to be knocked back again by the shoulder of a heavily built man as he burst into the room. He was followed by a second figure, both armed as they stood silhouetted by the shock of bright torchlight from the corridor beyond.
‘Who’s that?’ Eperitus called in the Trojan tongue.
‘Eperitus!’
‘Odysseus?’
‘Not just Odysseus,’ Diomedes added, stepping over and cautiously slicing through Eperitus’s bonds with his dagger. ‘And Astynome’s with us, too, keeping watch at the far end of the corridor.’
The flax cords fell away and Eperitus stood. The next moment he was in a heap on the floor.
‘Steady,’ said Odysseus, hauling him back to his feet. ‘How long have you been tied to that chair?’
‘Longer than I can remember.’
‘And your wound?’
‘More or less healed,’ Eperitus replied. He looked into the king’s eyes, then broke into a smile and embraced him. ‘Zeus’s beard, you’re the last person I expected to see. And Diomedes, too! How did you get into Troy?’
‘It’s a long tale, and one we’ll give in full when we’ve got you safely back to the Greek camp.’
‘So you came here to save me?’
‘Don’t flatter yourself,’ Diomedes scoffed, slapping him on the shoulder. ‘We’re here to steal the Palladium and you’re going to help us. Try leaning on this.’
He handed him one of the dead guards’ spears. Eperitus moved his legs, felt some of the life come back into them, and attempted to stand. Odysseus caught him again, while Diomedes knelt down and began vigorously rubbing his calves and thighs to restore the flow of blood, though he was careful to avoid the bandaged wound.
‘Everyone had taken you for dead after the battle,’ Odysseus said, ‘but not me. And when I heard you were being held prisoner here, I insisted on rescuing you before stealing the Palladium.’
‘Try again,’ Diomedes instructed, rising to his feet.
This time, with the help of the spear, he found his legs had the strength to stand once more. He took a couple of tentative steps towards the door and came face-to-face with Astynome. Without a moment’s hesitation she threw her arms about him, almost knocking him back to the floor. Odysseus and Diomedes quickly busied themselves dragging the bodies of the guards into the storeroom, while Astynome drew back and looked into Eperitus’s eyes. The doubt in her dark, attractive features was clear to see.
‘Say you forgive me,’ she whispered.
For an instant he remembered again Apheidas’s cruel revelation at the temple of Thymbrean Apollo, that the woman he had fallen in love with had been sent to lure him into a trap – a trap that had resulted in the death of his friend, Arceisius. Then he recalled the look of remorse on Astynome’s face as Apheidas dragged her away at knifepoint, and her confession that her love for him was genuine. And he knew, despite her treachery, that she had spoken the truth.
‘There’s nothing to forgive. Apheidas is manipulative and evil; we’re both his victims.’
‘In Zeus’s name, will you just say you forgive me?’
‘I forgive you. Of course I forgive you. And now you have to come back with me to the camp.’
Astynome kissed him and shook her head as she withdrew.
‘Impossible. You know what’ll happen if Agamemnon discovers me. Besides, I’ll only burden your escape from Troy.’
‘We can deceive Agamemnon and I can carry you back to the camp, if I need to.’
‘Not on those legs you won’t. Anyway, I’ll be more use to you inside Troy. Odysseus has already asked me to do something for him.’
Eperitus narrowed his eyes and looked across at the king, who was dragging the second guard’s body into a gap behind the sacks of barley in the far corner of the room.
‘What?’
‘I can’t say I really understand it, but even if I did I couldn’t tell you. He’s sworn me to secrecy.’
‘Time to go,’ Diomedes announced, standing in the doorway with a torch in his hand. ‘The night’s old already and we’ve still to find the temple of Athena.’
‘I’ve already told Odysseus the quickest way there,’ Astynome said. ‘The difficulty will be in stealing the Palladium itself.’
‘And in that you can’t help us, Astynome,’ Odysseus said. ‘You have to get back to the servants’ quarters and hope you’ve not been missed. Eperitus, how are your legs?’
Eperitus could feel the strength returning and gave his friend a nod. He looked again at Astynome and kissed her on the lips.
‘When the city falls, wait for me here, in Apheidas’s house. I’ll come and find you.’
She nodded silently and watched him out of the storeroom, following Odysseus and Diomedes as quickly as his numb legs would carry him.
Chapter Thirty-one
THE PALLADIUM
Diomedes followed at Odysseus and Eperitus’s heels, staring in awe at the great mansions and temples of Pergamos. If the mighty walls of Troy were intended to impress visitors with her power and invulnerability, her inner buildings were built to astonish them with her wealth, piety and culture. The well-laid stones and the ornate architecture far exceeded anything the citadels of Argos, Sparta or even Mycenae could offer in competition, and Diomedes – like many before him – was being made to feel like a common barbarian as he stole through the empty streets.