‘You’re dead,’ mumbled Odysseus. ‘Leave me alone.’
But now the figure was transformed into someone else. The ghostly shape of Hector – dead Hector – stood before him.
‘I didn’t want you to die,’ sobbed Odysseus and shook his head and closed his eyes. But when he opened them again, it was Ajax who stood in front of him. Poor stupid Ajax; and he was taking the rope from round his neck and shuffling towards him.
‘NO!’ cried Odysseus, and thrust his sword at the apparition. ‘DIE!’ he screamed, but in the middle of his nightmare he couldn’t see that his blade was in fact plunging towards the unprotected back of his best friend. The White Goddess was taking her revenge.
Just in time, Diomedes turned, ducked and SMACK! he belted Odysseus under the chin with the base of the White Goddess, then flung his friend over his shoulders and carried him unconscious to the Greek camp.
Meanwhile, inside Troy, Paris was dragging Helen along the battlements. ‘You betrayed me, didn’t you!’ he shouted. ‘You betrayed all of us! Only you knew about that sewer. For ten years my people have been laying down their lives for you and what do you do in return? Conspire with the Greeks to steal our Goddess. Now, once and for all, you must choose whose side you’re on. Choose! Them out there, or us in here – which is it to be?’ And he pointed out over the no-man’s-land between the city and the shore.
Out in no-man’s-land, Philoctetes lay waiting. He listened very carefully to where the angry shouts were coming from, then drew his silver bow. THUNK! Helen no longer had to make the choice. Her husband, Paris, lay dead in her arms.
When Odysseus woke up, someone was mopping his forehead. Slowly he opened his eyes. The visions had gone. He was back in his tent, his old friend Diomedes was by his bedside and outside some soldiers were singing a drinking song. Odysseus smiled faintly. ‘Now all I need to do,’ he whispered, ‘is open the gates of the city. Then we’ll be back home by Christmas – no problem!’
Somewhere a fox started barking. The last thing Odysseus saw before he fell back into a deep sleep was the White Goddess on the table by his side, and she seemed to be smiling at him…
Chapter Six
Getting In
Odysseus peered out of his tent flap. It was morning. He felt slightly stiff but, given the flogging from Philoctetes and the effect of the temple smoke, he could have felt a lot worse. He stuck two fingers in his mouth and let out a piercing whistle. Immediately a thousand Ithacan soldiers raced out of their tents and gathered round him.
He unrolled a drawing and explained his plan, waving his arms about as he spoke. The soldiers stared at the drawing open-mouthed, then suddenly men were rushing in all directions, fetching drills, saws, hammers, nails and ropes. The big ones dragged huge tree trunks into the camp and the little ones stripped the bark off and sawed them into bits. They built a network of scaffolding and began swarming all over it, shouting instructions, climbing ladders, pulling things up on blocks and tackle.
A whole day came and went. All through the night they worked furiously; hammering, banging and singing popular songs. The other Greek leaders looked on suspiciously. What ever were the Ithacans making?
‘Is it a battering ram?’ asked Agamemnon.
‘No, a battleship,’ replied Philoctetes.
‘It could be a huge siege tower,’ said Menelaus.
The fact is, they had no idea what it was.
Next morning, when the rest of the army woke up, they couldn’t believe their eyes. The thing wasn’t a weapon of war at all. It was a gigantic children’s toy. At the base was an enormous trolley on four huge wooden wheels, on top of that were four great legs, on top of them a vast wooden body, and, sticking up out of the body, a long wooden neck – the whole thing so mammoth it cast a shadow across the entire camp.
‘What’s it for?’ asked Agamemnon suspiciously.
‘I’ll show you,’ replied Odysseus, and he shinned up one of the legs and pulled a lever hidden in the knee. Slowly a secret door in the toy’s belly slid open.
‘There’s room in here for fifty men,’ he continued. ‘I need forty-nine volunteers to undertake the most daring and heroic mission of the war.’
The whole army stepped forward.
‘One place of course will be reserved for me,’ said Philoctetes.
‘You’re a General,’ snapped Odysseus. ‘You stay here and inspire the troops.’
‘I’m a General,’ answered Philoctetes. ‘So I order you to take me.’
‘Fine,’ said Odysseus, his teeth clenched. ‘If that’s the way you want it.’
‘But what’s it supposed to be?’ persisted Agamemnon.
‘It’s not finished yet,’ said Odysseus, ‘but gather round and I’ll tell you my plan.’ And it was a plan and a half.
Next morning, up on the Trojan battlements, the guards were yelling and screaming and cheering. What was going on? The whole town joined them on the city walls and looked across the plain towards the sea. They couldn’t believe their eyes. The Greeks had gone.
For ten years they’d been camped round the city. For ten years no one could get in or out, and now all that was left of the Greek camp was a few smouldering bonfires and mounds and mounds of rubbish; and far away on the horizon they could make out the distant masts of the Greek ships sailing back home. They’d gone, they’d really gone!
The Trojans began flooding out on to the plain. There was cheering and singing and dancing until a young girl called out breathlessly, ‘Look what I’ve found on the beach!’
Everyone raced towards the shore. Boys, girls, old men, young women, Priam, the Prime Minister and the members of her cabinet. Then they stopped. Down by the sea there was something strange and wonderful. It was huge and white and covered in little magic symbols – bulls’ heads, stars, double-headed axes. It was a horse one hundred metres high, with a mane and tail of blue and scarlet feathers; and sitting on top of it on a blue and scarlet saddle was the statue of the White Goddess.
There was absolute silence. Then the whole town tiptoed towards it. Suddenly, ‘Duck!’ yelled a commando. They all fell flat on their faces.
‘There’s a movement over there,’ growled the commando. Cautiously everyone lifted their heads. From behind a sand dune a little stick was poking and on top of it was tied a grubby white flag.
‘Come out with your hands up,’ bellowed the commando, and out crept a scruffy, skinny, unshaven Greek soldier with a weaselly face.
‘Don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me, please, please, please don’t hurt me,’ he whined as he shuffled towards them.
When he reached King Priam he dropped to his knees. Priam looked at him distastefully and asked, ‘Who are you?’
‘I’m Private Thersites.’
‘And why are you here?’
‘Well, sir,’ replied Thersites, ‘there’s been an almighty bust-up in the Greek camp, sir, and Odysseus has been deprived of his Kingdom, sir, and I’ve run away, sir.’
‘What’s your story, man?’
‘This is my story,’ said Thersites, and the whole town sat down to listen.
‘It’s ten years since we came to Troy, sir, and we weren’t winning, but we weren’t losing either. And then the boils started. Huge, great, pussy boils all over our bodies, and blackheads, sir, the size of your fist, sir. And I said to Odysseus, I said, it’s all your doing, I said. The White Goddess is angry with us because you stole her statue, I said. But Odysseus said, shut up, Thersites, you don’t know what you’re on about, he said. So I went to the Archbishop, sir, and I told him Odysseus had stolen the Goddess, and he was livid, sir. And he said we had to give it back and sail for home immediately. And if we didn’t we’d be completely cursed and we’d get leprosy and our arms and legs would drop off, sir. And not only that, sir, but we had to give the Goddess a huge present, sir. A present so wonderful she’d forgive us and not drown us on our way home, sir. And Odysseus is in disgrace now, sir, and so he said he’d cut my tongue out, sir. Becau
se I told on him, sir. So I ran away, sir. And here I am, sir, and this is the present… this white horse, sir.’ ‘I have never,’ said the Prime Minister, ‘heard anything so unconvincing in my entire life.’ And she snatched a spear from the nearest soldier and strode round the horse banging on its legs.
‘Sounds hollow to me,’ she said. ‘There must be something inside it.’ And she hurled the spear deep into the horse’s belly.
Inside the horse a Greek soldier stifled a yawn. This was the most boring job he’d ever undertaken. He’d been keeping still for hours now.
Suddenly, ZONK! the spear passed straight through his legs. He bit deep into his arm to stop himself screaming. Odysseus carefully freed the soldier from the spear and cleaned its point with his shirt.
Outside the horse, the Trojans made a human pyramid. A commando climbed to the top and yanked out the spear. Priam examined it keenly.
‘It’s quite clean,’ he said. ‘There’s nothing inside the horse. As usual the Prime Minister has got it completely wrong. Guards, fetch some ropes. We’ll place the horse in the city square, then everyone will remember the day the cowardly Greeks sailed home.’
‘You fool!’ screamed the Prime Minister. ‘Don’t take the horse into the city! Can’t you see it’s a trick!’ The guards stopped. There was doubt in their eyes. ‘I’ll tell you who’s behind this!’ she yelled. ‘It’s, it’s…’ Then something happened that was so extraordinary that the Trojans remembered it for the rest of their short lives.
A huge sea snake rose out of the water and wrapped itself round the Prime Minister’s legs. Higher and higher it snaked, looping itself round her, and then slowly it began to squeeze the life from her body, until her eyes popped, her face turned purple, there was the sound of crunching bones and she fell lifeless on to the sand.
Immediately Thersites jumped up beneath the horse’s belly. ‘That was a warning!’ he cried. ‘She tried to stop the horse entering the city and the Goddess punished her.’
‘Well said,’ agreed Priam. ‘Trojans! Get the horse moving and we’ll welcome the Goddess back into our city.’
The whole town heaved on the ropes, while the children ran between the horse’s legs and threw garlands of flowers in its path. The grown-ups kissed each other and cried and sang hymns. And slowly the great procession crossed the flat, grassy plain back to Troy, with the horse casting its giant shadow over them.
But when they arrived at the city the singing and dancing petered out and everyone stopped and scratched their heads. They had a problem. The horse was too big. They’d never get it through the gates.
‘Tear down the wall,’ ordered Priam. And hordes of Trojans with sledge-hammers swarmed all over it and began hacking away at the huge stone blocks. Soon the wall was breached, the rubble was cleared and the horse lumbered through the great gaping hole.
Through the town it rolled, its head level with the roof-tops of the tallest houses, until it came to a halt in the city square in front of the church of the Goddess. There was loud cheering and immediately the singing and dancing started up again.
‘Wait!’ ordered Priam and once more there was silence. ‘We can’t leave our city wall in this state. For ten years it’s been our only protection against sure disaster.’
So the Trojans rushed to their houses and dragged out their old beds and doors and cardboard boxes and crammed them into the hole in the wall until it was completely blocked with Trojan junk.
Then Priam ordered sixty of his finest soldiers to stand guard, pulled the huge metal bolts across the city gates, padlocked them, and put the key round his neck. ‘Now we are safe again,’ he said. ‘Let the celebrations begin!’
There were fireworks, street parties, hundreds of bands, free food and free booze. The Trojans hadn’t partied like this since the war had begun. By 3 o’clock in the morning, everyone had crawled exhausted to their beds except for a few drunken revellers who’d passed out in the city square.
The horse stood still and silent. Nothing stirred.
Then there were footsteps. It was Helen with her new Trojan boyfriend. He had permed blond hair, chunky jewellery and his shirt was unbuttoned to the waist.
Helen patted the horse’s leg. ‘Suppose this is all a trick,’ she whispered. ‘Suppose the horse is full of Greek soldiers.’
‘Oh, come on,’ laughed the boyfriend. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘I’m not. It could be one of Odysseus’ little plans. He’s so crafty he makes me want to spit.’ And she called out, ‘Odysseus, are you in there? This is your wife, Penelope. Can you hear me?’
Odysseus sat bolt upright. Penelope had been Helen’s best friend, and she was imitating her perfectly.
‘How are you?’ continued Helen. ‘It’s ten long years since I’ve seen you. Come out and say hallo.’
Odysseus began to get up. Was he hearing things? Had Penelope, whom he’d missed so much for ten long years, somehow turned up in Troy?
‘It’s a trick,’ hissed Diomedes. ‘A stupid trick. Take no notice.’
‘Come out and look at Telemachus, your son,’ called Helen. ‘He’s a big boy now. He’s nearly eleven.’
Odysseus started to cry out. But Diomedes slapped his hand over his mouth and forced him back down on to his seat. Slowly, a tear trickled down Odysseus’ face.
Outside, Helen’s boyfriend was bored. ‘Don’t be silly, darling. There’s no one there. Come on home and let’s boogie the night away.’ And they left the square with their arms wrapped round each other.
Then, when their echoing footsteps had died away, one of the unconscious revellers got to his feet and tiptoed over to the horse. Only it wasn’t a reveller at all. It was Thersites. He shinned up the horse’s leg and pulled the lever on its knee. Silently the trap door opened.
‘OK, lads?’ he whispered.
‘OK,’ came the reply. And Thersites disappeared again.
‘Line up behind me,’ ordered Odysseus.
‘I’ll go first,’ said Philoctetes.
‘It’s my expedition,’ replied Odysseus.
‘You! You’re just a cheap adventurer looking for glory,’ jeered Philoctetes. ‘I’m the General. I’ll go first.’
‘Go on then,’ said Odysseus.
Philoctetes smiled a crooked smile of triumph and leapt out of the trap door. But he must have wished he hadn’t.
There was a sickening thud, then silence. The men peered down through the darkness and saw Philoctetes’ broken body dead on the ground.
‘There’s no ladder,’ said Odysseus. ‘Why didn’t somebody tell him? War’s a terrible thing, isn’t it?’
Soon Thersites was back with a ladder and silently the men slipped down it. Swiftly they padded through the shadows. When they were all in position, Odysseus gave a hoot like an owl.
From all around the wall there were muffled grunts and the sound of Trojan sentries falling to the ground as the Greeks silently overpowered them from behind.
Soon it was over. Stage one of the operation was complete. Half of them slipped into Trojan guards’ uniforms and stayed by the gates while the other half climbed over the wall, crept down to the beach and set fire to the huge mounds of rubbish. Agamemnon’s ships were hiding just outside the bay.
When they saw the beacons, they rowed quickly and quietly to the beach and wave upon wave of Greek soldiers poured off the ships and sped eagerly towards the city – the city they had never entered.
And then stage two began. The Greeks at the gate quickly pulled down the beds and doors and boxes and yanked them out of the way, so by the time the army reached the wall there was nothing to bar their entry. The gates remained locked, but the soldiers flooded through the hole in the wall, their eyes flashing with blood-lust.
Now it was time for stage three.
As Agamemnon raced into the city, Odysseus stopped him and said, ‘You will make sure our men don’t harm the women and children, won’t you?’
‘Have you gone soft or something?’ replied
Agamemnon.
Odysseus looked on in sorrow, while in the next half hour the most beautiful city in the world was smashed to pieces. Bodies were thrown from the rooftops, beautiful towers and minarets came crashing to the ground, and the Greek soldiers hacked their way through Troy, their arms full of loot, their swords covered in blood.
Menelaus was dripping with sweat from head to foot as he came pounding up to Odysseus, yelling over the deafening noise of slaughter and destruction, ‘Where’s Helen? Have you seen her?’
Odysseus hadn’t, but he knew where to find her.
When they arrived at her house they found it locked. Menelaus hurled himself against the door in animal fury. CRUNCH! It shattered under his weight and he sailed right through it, leaving a Menelaus-shaped hole behind him.
‘Guard the door!’ he shouted, and Odysseus stood there with his sword in his hand while Menelaus pounded up the stairs.
Odysseus heard the crash of glass as the boyfriend went flying through the window, then the sound of two voices screaming at each other – a man and a woman. Then silence. Has he killed her? wondered Odysseus.
No, he hadn’t. Helen and Menelaus appeared at the top of the stairs, gazing into each other’s eyes.
‘You poor darling,’ said Menelaus. ‘It must have been hell for you. It’s all right now, it’s all over. I’ll take you home.’
Helen smiled at him, then popped a chocolate truffle into her mouth. Her double chins wobbled up and down as she chewed it.
‘Is this the face that launched a thousand ships?’ Odysseus murmured to himself.
Next morning he stood alone on the sand dunes staring at Troy, just as he had on the morning he had first landed.
But now the city was in ruins, the Greek army was streaming out of the gates carrying great piles of jewels and golden plates, and in the shadow of the city walls a shivering line of Trojan women and children with irons on their hands and feet were waiting to be branded as slaves.
Odysseus Page 6
