The other conversations had stopped dead at the bitterness in Menelaus’s words, prompting Agamemnon to lean forward with his hands flat on the table.
‘You’ll embrace her, of course, Brother,’ he said in a commanding tone. ‘The kings of Greece haven’t fought for ten years so that you can kill the woman they all swore to protect.’
Menelaus looked round at the circle of faces. ‘Of course not,’ he conceded, though without conviction.
‘So,’ Agamemnon continued, ‘let us congratulate Odysseus and Diomedes for their guile and courage in entering Troy and stealing the Palladium. The full story can wait until we’re all sat around a blazing fire with meat in our bellies and wine in our veins, and doubtless Odysseus will be the man to tell it. But now, with the third of the oracles given to us by Helenus fulfilled, we must decide on our next move. That, my noble lords, is why I’ve called you here.’
‘I’d have thought our next move was obvious.’
The speaker’s tone was matter-of-fact, but the hint of criticism caused every eye to turn to the corner of the table where the words had come from. Neoptolemus, who as commander of the Myrmidons had taken his father’s place on the Council, stood with his hands behind his back staring at the King of Men. Peisandros was at his shoulder, his arms crossed over his broad chest and his wild beard thrust out defiantly. Agamemnon frowned a little, but quickly regained his usual coolness.
‘Younger minds don’t suffer the hindrance of greater experience,’ he replied. ‘What would the son of Achilles have us do?’
‘Attack.’
Nestor’s white beard opened with a smile. ‘Of course we’ll attack.’
‘Attack now,’ Neoptolemus said, punching his hand. ‘You’ve become too used to sitting in your precious camp and letting the years roll by. And where’s it got you? I say muster your armies before the walls and march on Troy. You’ve fulfilled all the oracles the gods laid down, so what are you waiting for? Attack now and Troy will fall.’
There were nods of agreement among the commanders and a notable growl of approval from Peisandros, but there were also a few shaken heads. The remainder of the assembly kept their opinions to themselves and turned their gaze to Agamemnon, who was equally silent as he looked at Neoptolemus.
‘I say the son of Achilles is right,’ said Menelaus beside him. ‘We’ve become too comfortable in our tents and huts – or maybe we’ve just grown afraid of the Trojans! Let’s turn our minds back to the palaces we left behind, to our wives and children. I’m sick of Ilium. Now we have the blessing of the gods, what’s stopping us from marching up to the Scaean Gate and finally taking what we came here for?’
The passion in his voice roused others and the murmurs of agreements grew louder. Some contested the rashness of an immediate attack, causing the tent to fill rapidly with the sound of arguing voices, until eventually Agamemnon was forced to raise his arms for silence.
‘And what do the men whose bravery gained us the Palladium say?’
Diomedes was quick to answer. ‘I’ve always been the first to join an attack and my Argives are in the forefront of every battle, but I can’t agree with Neoptolemus and Menelaus. I’ve seen the walls of Troy from outside and inside and believe me, my friends, when I tell you they won’t blow away with a puff of youthful ardour. By taking the Palladium we have undermined Trojan self-confidence, but we haven’t removed the hinges from their gates or knocked even one stone from their battlements. Their defences are as strong now as they ever were. No, if we’re to take Troy we need to think about it, use the same intelligence that Odysseus showed when he thought up his plan to enter the city.’
Eperitus was among a handful who voiced their agreement, though he noticed Odysseus was silent. Then Neoptolemus thumped his fist down on the table and glared round at the Council in anger.
‘What are you, warriors or women? If you haven’t the stomach to fight then we Myrmidons will scale the walls alone and claim all the glory for ourselves!’
Opposing choruses for and against the plan broke out again, and this time it was Nestor who silenced them.
‘I want to hear what Odysseus thinks,’ the old man said. ‘Are you with Diomedes or Neoptolemus?’
Eperitus looked expectantly at Odysseus, whom he felt must surely speak out against the recklessness of an immediate attack. As for himself, he agreed with Diomedes’s call for a more thoughtful approach: the fulfilment of the oracles did not mean the walls would come tumbling down, but that a marker had been passed and the gods would somehow or other present the Greeks with an opportunity for victory. Repeatedly beating their heads against the walls of Troy, in his opinion, could only lead to one conclusion – a broken skull.
‘If Neoptolemus and Menelaus want to attack Troy, I cannot go with them,’ Odysseus declared. Eperitus and Diomedes exchanged satisfied glances, while others grumbled their dissatisfaction. But Odysseus had not yet finished and raised his hands for silence. ‘I am wounded and tired and I need to rest, but I won’t discourage any man who believes the time to end the war has come. It seems to me the gods have finally tipped the scales in our favour and Priam’s city is ripe for the taking. So if the King of Men decides to send the whole army into battle, then I will not speak against him. I will even keep my Ithacans here to guard the ships, denying them and myself the glory of victory.’
The assembly exploded with a sudden call to arms, a call that Agamemnon was ready to embrace and encourage.
‘So be it. Muster your armies on the plain. Summon every man capable of bearing arms. Troy falls today!’
Eperitus watched the kings exit the tent, all of them eager to be in the forefront of the coming battle. Even Diomedes went with them, leaving Eperitus suddenly doubtful of his own conviction that the attack would fail. He wondered whether, after being in the thick of the fighting for ten years, he and the rest of the Ithacans were about to miss the final defeat of their enemies. Then he shook his head, as if to rid himself of the ridiculous notion, and turned to the king.
‘Why didn’t you speak up, Odysseus? You know this is madness – do they really think another assault on the walls is going to make any difference?’
Odysseus hooked his large hand around Eperitus’s elbow and pulled him through the crowded tent to one of the exits. Men were fighting each other to be the first out and back to their armies, so drunk were they with the thought that the gods were about to give them victory. Eperitus watched them in disgust, as if he stood alone on an island of reason while the rest of the Greeks crashed about him in a storm of insanity. He followed Odysseus through the crush and soon felt the soft sand giving way beneath his sandals, hearing once more the liberating sound of the waves rolling against the shore and the cry of the seagulls hovering overhead.
‘Odysseus, why don’t you call them to their senses?’ he implored, casting a glance over his shoulder at the running figures spreading through the camp like a fire. ‘Climb up on the prow of one of these galleys and shout out. Tell them this is folly. Do you want the blood of hundreds of men on your hands?’
At this, Odysseus stopped and turned to face his captain.
‘Eperitus, I know as well as you do that these men are going to certain defeat. And maybe I could stop them if I tried – maybe. But I have a plan to conquer Troy now, a plan given to me by the gods, and if that plan is to succeed then the Greeks must taste defeat one last time. I’ll explain everything in my hut, but first we have to find Omeros.’
Chapter Thirty-three
HOPE OUT OF DEFEAT