‘Don’t you know what that is? Put it back at once. At once!’
She was an old woman, but she had such confidence in the power of her own authority that she had not even thought to shout for the guards. Either that, or she was too shocked by their sacrilege to do anything other than follow her own outrage. She advanced again, pointing at the bag under Odysseus’s arm and spluttering angrily for him to give it to her. Then her eyes fell on his face and she stopped.
‘Who are you?’ she demanded, narrowing her eyes. ‘I know your face. Who’s your commander?’
‘If I have a commander,’ Odysseus answered in her own language, ‘it’s Agamemnon, king of Mycenae.’
‘Greeks!’ the priestess exclaimed, throwing her hands up to her cheeks. ‘How did you …? By all the gods, I must call the guards.’
The point of Odysseus’s sword was at her throat in an instant.
‘You’ll say nothing, Theano. Yes, I know you and you know me. I am Odysseus, king of Ithaca. These are my comrades, Diomedes of Argos and Eperitus, captain of my guard. Eperitus and I were guests of your husband before the war started.’
‘Yes, I remember you now. You were welcome then, especially by Antenor, who has always loved the Greeks. For his sake, I would gladly let you return by whatever way you came into our sacred city, even giving you my sworn oath not to raise the alarm until you were far enough away. Though not with the effigy you have under your arm, Odysseus, not even under the threat of death. Athena is my mistress and the Palladium is sacred to her; if you try to take it I promise you my dying scream will awake the guards outside.’
‘The guards are all dead,’ Odysseus lied. ‘I have no wish that you should join them, but if you try to prevent me taking the Palladium I will not hesitate to cut open your throat. Am I clear? Now, promise me your silence while we escape and I’ll let you live. Make your choice, Theano.’
He raised the point of the blade a fraction so that it pressed against the soft flesh beneath the old woman’s chin, causing her to draw breath sharply. The next moment, the weapon fell from Odysseus’s hand with a loud clang and he stepped back, clutching his hand beneath his armpit and wincing with pain. Eperitus and Diomedes looked at him in confusion, then down at the sword on the flagstones. It was glowing red.
Something else had changed. Sensing danger, Eperitus stepped back and lowered the head of his spear towards the old woman. By now she was standing rigid with her shoulders pulled back and her fingers splayed at her sides. Bright, silvery light was spilling from her eyes and nostrils, filling Eperitus with terror and forcing him to retreat. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Diomedes’s face, his eyes wide with disbelief and shock as he raised his sword over his head and made to bring it down on the priestess. Before the edged metal could touch her, it burst into flames and leapt from the Argive king’s hand to skitter across the floor in blazing circles.
Odysseus and Eperitus dropped their torches and fell back to the plinth where the great statue of Athena stood. Theano had stopped shaking now, but the light continued to pour from her eyes and nostrils so that the three men could only glance at her from behind their raised hands.
‘You know me, Odysseus,’ she said, light streaming from her mouth. But it was no longer the voice of Theano that spoke now. It was the goddess herself. ‘Have I ever failed you or betrayed your trust in me?’
Athena’s anger sent tremors through the floor beneath their feet, and led by Odysseus the warriors fell to their knees before her.
‘And is this how you repay my help? To steal the image of Pallas, my friend, in whose beloved memory it was created?’
Eperitus gave a sidelong glance at the king. Odysseus’s head was hung low, not daring to look at the goddess, but Eperitus could see the guilt and anguish written on his face.
‘I command you to return the statue to its rightful place. If you love and honour me – indeed, if you value my continued patronage and protection, Odysseus – you will do my bidding.’
Odysseus closed his eyes tightly and drew back his lips in an agony of indecision. But the effigy remained beneath his arm, wrapped in the cloak.
‘Answer me!’
‘I cannot, Mistress. I mean, I cannot return the Palladium.’
There was a moment of silence, filled only by the hiss and splutter of the torches. Then Athena spoke again, this time her voice calmer and more gentle.
‘Odysseus, my child. I have watched you and loved you all your life – few mortals have been as precious to me as you are. However, if you leave this temple with the effigy of my friend, that is an affront that I cannot permit to go unpunished. You know that.’
‘My orders come from Agamemnon, my lady, to fulfil an oracle given to us by Helenus. He said that Troy will not fall as long as the Palladium remains in the city.’
‘Curse your stubborn beard, Odysseus. Who do you put your faith in, Apollo or me? How often have prophecies given in his name sown trouble for Greeks and Trojans alike? But my path is wisdom; it is straight and even, and though narrow it leads a man ultimately to his goal. Will you abandon me now?’
‘If the oracle isn’t fulfilled, I might never return to Ithaca. I might never see Penelope or Telemachus again!’
‘You might and you might not, but if you insist on fulfilling this oracle then won’t all other oracles concerning you come true? Will you not doom yourself to a further ten years away from home and family, as the Pythoness predicted when you were a young man? What’s more, persist in this and not only will you lose my protection, Odysseus, you will also risk my wrath! And yet I cannot make your choice for you, so decide now and be damned.’
Theano’s eyes and mouth closed and the light was extinguished as swiftly as it had come, leaving them with only the dull glow of the struggling torches. A moment later, the priestess’s legs buckled and she slumped unconscious to the floor. Diomedes and Eperitus retrieved the torches they had dropped and turned to face Odysseus.
‘Was that –?’ Diomedes began.
‘Athena,’ Eperitus finished. He turned to Odysseus. ‘What are you going to do?’
The king raised his head wearily and looked at them with a tortured expression and eyes that were wracked with pain. He picked up his sword, which was now cold to the touch, and stood. Diomedes’s weapon was nearby and he kicked this over to the king of Argos.
‘I can’t bear the thought of this war going on any longer, so I’ve made my decision. We take the Palladium. And now we should go. We have a long journey back to the camp and the Trojans will be close on our trail as soon as they see their talisman is missing.’
‘First we must tie up Theano,’ Eperitus said. ‘If we don’t, she’ll raise the alarm the moment she wakes.’
With compunction – remembering the hospitality the priestess and her husband had shown them on their first visit to Troy – Odysseus and Eperitus tied her hands behind her back and gagged her, before hiding her still unconscious body behind the immense statue of Athena. As they laid her down, Eperitus caught Odysseus’s eye. He wanted to ask his friend whether they had done the right thing, to steal the Palladium in spite of Athena’s direct command that it should remain in the temple, but Odysseus saw the question coming and looked away, indicating it was not a matter he wished to discuss. He was not quick enough to disguise the doubt and regret written in his features, though, an expression Eperitus was not used to seeing on the king’s face.
Silently, they crossed the floor of the temple to where Diomedes was standing guard at the door. The Palladium was tucked under his arm and his sword was held tightly in his other hand.
‘Hurry up,’ he hissed anxiously. ‘Do you want to be caught?’
The guards were still fast asleep on the portico and they were able to make their way back to the city walls without hindrance. Then, as they climbed the steps and approached the stinking hole in the battlements through which they were to escape, they were met by a stern challenge.