‘We haven’t succeeded yet,’ said Nestor, standing at the King of Men’s side. ‘There’ll be much bloodshed before this battle’s over.’
‘But it’s the last battle,’ said Agamemnon. He turned towards the thousands of waiting soldiers and raised his spear above his head. ‘Troy is ours! Victory is ours! But it shall not be an empty one. I’ll not have the city sacked and its population scattered, so they can return and rebuild it when we’ve gone. I’ll not see the shadow of its towers fall across the Aegean again, to be a thorn in the side of future generations of Greeks. No, it must be destroyed. Put it to the torch. Throw down its walls and gates. Don’t suffer even one stone to remain on another. Destroy its flesh and blood, too. Kill every man, boy and infant you come across. And when you have shown them no mercy, do whatever you like with their women. Those are my only commands; now see that you carry them out to the full.’
His words were met with a shout and the clashing of weapons against shields. He turned on his heel and strode into the city, his blood-red cloak billowing out behind him. As he passed between the gates, a dozen sleepy Trojans ran out of a door in the side of the tower, only to be slaughtered and trampled over by the swarm of invaders following on the heels of the king of Mycenae. The Scaean Gate had fallen. The annihilation of Troy had begun.
Chapter Thirty-eight
INSIDE THE PALACE
Aeneas’s eyes flickered open. He lifted his head slowly from the table, where it had been laying in the crook of his arm, and squinted out at the dark, still market square. Sleeping bodies lay here and there amid the wreckage of overturned benches, empty wineskins and broken kraters. Nothing moved and the only noise was the sound of mingled snores drifting up into the night air. And yet something had woken him; some deeper instinct was warning him that things were not as they should be. Having long ago learned to listen to his intuitions, he forced himself to sit up and feel for his sword. There were many who had left their weapons behind, refusing to bring them to a celebration marking the end of the siege, but his hung reassuringly at his side.
He lifted his legs over the bench and got up. Steadying himself against the table, he fought the thumping of the wine inside his head and took a second look around. Everything was quiet, calm, peaceful, as if the war had happened a generation ago and they had merely been commemorating it. Then his gaze fell on the wooden horse, standing tall and menacing in the centre of the square. Here, Aeneas sensed, was the source of his disquiet. It stood up to its hocks in garlands, which the womenfolk had plucked from the meadows around the Scamander. Offerings of food, too, had been piled all around it in honour of Athena and the other gods who had brought victory so unexpectedly to Troy. The horse had not moved; it had not changed; and in the darkness he almost missed the small detail that was to save his life. But something lifted his eyes to the Greek characters inscribed in its flank, and it was then he noticed some of the letters were missing. No, not missing – they had been blacked out. Aeneas blinked and took a few paces towards the giant effigy. And then he saw that the letters were not blacked out, but that a piece of the horse’s side had been removed, revealing a dark interior from which a ladder of knotted rope was dangling.
Aeneas felt his flesh go cold. His eyes widened and his fingers closed tightly around the hilt of his sword. Now he understood and the truth filled him with sudden, overwhelming terror. The horse had contained men – who and how many, he could not guess – and those men would soon be opening the city gates for the rest of the Greek army, which would have sailed into the bay under cover of darkness. In an instant the whole plan was clear before him. Zeus had weighed the Greeks and Trojans in his scales and they had come down in favour of the Greeks.
The sound of raised voices drifted up from the Scaean Gate. He turned to face them, feeling his heart race in his chest. Then he heard a scream and knew there was nothing he could do now to save Troy from its fate. In the brief space of time that followed, he sifted the options that were open to him and understood what he had to do. He looked down at the figures lying around him and kicked one of them awake. The soldier stirred, reluctantly, then grabbed at the foot that was beating against his ribs.
‘What do you think you’re –?’
‘Shut up, man. The Greeks have returned: they’re in the city now. Wake as many warriors as you can and find whatever weapons are to hand. Do you understand?’
The man frowned, rubbing his eyes and cheeks, then gave a nod.
‘Where are you going?’ he called after Aeneas as he ran towards Pergamos.
Aeneas ignored him. He had thought of heading to the palace and warning Priam and Deiphobus, but the Greeks were certain to have sent men to take the citadel gates and guard them. And that left him only one choice, the choice that his heart would have chosen anyway. His father, his wife and his infant son were staying in the home of Antenor, the elder, and his wife Theano, the priestess of Athena. Troy was lost, but Aeneas could still save his family.
Odysseus and Eperitus ran through the archway and into Pergamos.
‘Menelaus, wait!’
‘Go back,’ the Spartan answered. ‘My mind’s made up.’
He had reached the foot of the broad ramp that led up to the next tier of the citadel, but despite his words seemed reluctant to go any further. His sword hung idly from his hand and he was staring up at the poplars that lined the road ahead as if they were giant sentinels, threatening to attack if he placed even one foot on the neatly laid cobbles.
‘Ours’ too. We’ve decided to come with you.’
Menelaus turned to face the Ithacan king.
‘I don’t need your help, Odysseus.’
‘Yes you do. I know where Helen’s quarters are and unless I show you the way you’ll waste valuable time searching the palace to find her. Right now, Agamemnon and the rest of the army are streaming in through the Scaean Gate. Soon the sounds of battle are going to carry up here and alert the royal guard that something’s wrong. And unless you find her straight away, Deiphobus is going to put Helen in his chariot and take her away to safety.’
As he finished speaking, a distant shout of alarm rose into the air and was cut short. Menelaus threw an anxious glance up the ramp, then turned to Odysseus.
‘Very well, come with me, but don’t try to get in the way when I find my wife, or I swear by all the gods you’ll regret it.’
Odysseus turned to Eperitus, placing his hands on his upper arms.
‘And now our paths must diverge, old friend. The night will be dangerous and bloody and I wish we could face it together, but the gods have set us different tasks to complete. My way lies with Menelaus, but you have to find Astynome and keep her safe. And if you can, you must face your father.’
‘My place is to guard you.’
‘I can look after myself well enough, and unless you’d rather I relieve you as captain of my guard then you’d better start obeying my orders. But I promise you this, Eperitus: somewhere beyond the fire and smoke, when Troy’s in ruin and her streets are piled high with the dead, we’ll meet again. Now, go and save the woman you love.’
The two men embraced, then Eperitus turned and ran into one of the side streets, where he was instantly absorbed by the dense shadows.
‘Come on then,’ Menelaus snarled, impatiently.
A breath of wind brought with it the faint clatter of bronze from the lower city, accompanied by the dull murmuring of angry voices contending with each other. Driven by a renewed urgency, Odysseus and Menelaus sprinted up the ramp to the second tier of Pergamos. An awe-inspiring press of two and three-storeyed mansions loomed out of the darkness on every side, but there was no time to admire the great buildings that had stood for so long and were now doomed for destruction. They ran on towards the second ramp, where the temple of Zeus lay to their right and the equally impressive temple of Athena to their left. Odysseus felt a pang of regret and doubt as he recalled his recent encounter there with the goddess.