The Gates Of Troy

by Iliffe, Glyn

  They woke late the next morning and took their breakfast on the flat roof of the palace. From here, with the sun already hot in the sky above them, they could pick out the Ithacan sailors on the galley in the harbour below. Other vessels – fishermen and merchant ships – were visible further out on the white-capped waves of the Aegean.

  Ajax leaned back in his chair, which strained to contain his huge torso.

  ‘What a waste of time,’ he said, the disappointment in his voice clear. ‘The fleet could be on its way to Troy by now.’

  ‘We won’t be ready to sail for three or four weeks yet,’ Eperitus said. ‘You’ve seen the levies most of the kings have brought – half-trained at best, and many have never held a shield and spear in their life. They’re farmers and fishermen, Ajax, not soldiers; they need to be trained if they’re to stand a chance of survival in Ilium.’

  ‘Ach, they’ll soon learn how to fight on the battlefield,’ Ajax sniffed. ‘Ares has a way of sorting the men from the girls, when the arrows are flying and the ground is thudding with approaching hooves. Besides, what’s the point of these levies anyway? We’re the ones who do the real fighting – the kings and nobles, and the trained warriors like your lads there.’

  He nodded towards Arceisius, Antiphus and Eurybates, who forgot the joke they had been sharing and tried to look as serious and warlike as they could.

  ‘You’re too harsh, Ajax,’ said Odysseus. ‘Every man has to be given a chance to survive, or who will farm our fields when we get back home? There’s not much glory to be had in steering a team of oxen all day long, or tying up wheat sheaves at harvest time.’

  ‘Odysseus is right,’ Nestor added. ‘Besides, whatever you may think about our levies, Ajax, we can’t leave without sorting out the provisioning of the army. The walls of Troy won’t fall in a day, so we need to arrange supplies of food, wine, clothing, replacement armaments, horses, timber, canvas, and a thousand other things. War isn’t just about lopping men’s heads off and taking their armour: we need to assess the information Odysseus, Menelaus and Eperitus brought back with them; calculate the best way to attack; decide on our tactics if things go against us – all the mundane groundwork that will prevent the Trojans from routing us as soon as we land on their beaches. I remember my first fight against the Eleans after I stole their flocks and cattle. I was a teenager then, and when I saw their army ranged against us I thought it was going to be a glorious day’s killing. But they out-thought us and, for a while, they out-fought us, until I called on Ares and he stoked my blood up. I killed a fair few Eleans from my chariot after that, and I learned a few things about how to use my shield and spear, too. But that was nothing compared with what I learned about being prepared for a fight.’

  ‘Pah!’ Ajax replied with a wave of his hand. ‘You still won, didn’t you? And it doesn’t change the fact that we’ve had a wasted journey. Achilles isn’t here, and we might as well say our farewells to Lycomedes and get back to Aulis – the sooner we’re back, the sooner you two can waste time training those hopeless peasants you set so much store by.’

  ‘Surely we’re not giving up yet?’ asked Eperitus. ‘For one thing I think Calchas is right, and for another it’s obvious Lycomedes is lying. If you ask me, Achilles is right here under our noses, but in a place few would expect to find him.’

  ‘Of course he is,’ Odysseus agreed. ‘The very fact Lycomedes is desperate for us to search his palace proves it – after all, a man with nothing to hide wouldn’t need to prove his innocence, would he? And when we don’t find Achilles, Lycomedes thinks we’ll go back to Aulis and not trouble him again. But I think his overconfidence will be his undoing.’

  ‘Don’t underestimate him,’ said Nestor. ‘He can’t be trusted, that’s for certain. Rumour says he murdered Theseus a few years back, when he was a guest in his house. There was a dispute over some land Theseus had inherited on Scyros, so Lycomedes pushed him off a cliff.’

  ‘That’s one way of settling a dispute,’ said Ajax. ‘But do you mean to say you’re going to hunt through the palace looking for Achilles inside pithoi of grain and such nonsense? Well, spare us the bother and humiliation. When I came here I expected to find my cousin in Lycomedes’s care, somehow ignorant of this war that the rest of Greece is talking about. I’ve heard the tales about him, just like everyone else: taught by Chiron the centaur to kill lions and bears with his own hands and feed off their raw offal; to use his cunning and speed to catch stags; to ride, play the pipes, heal, sing and a hundred other things. So I was expecting him to leap at the chance of a fight and come with us to Troy. Instead, he’s nowhere to be seen, probably skulking away in some hole, too afraid to reveal himself and fulfil the oath Patroclus took on his behalf. If he is here – and Eperitus there seems convinced Calchas isn’t wrong – then why doesn’t he prove himself to be the man everyone says he is?’

  ‘Perhaps he doesn’t even know of our arrival,’ Nestor suggested. ‘Like you, Ajax, I can’t believe he’d refuse the opportunity to reap glory in Ilium and make a name that would last forever.’

  ‘Whether he knows or not, why do we need him anyway?’ Ajax responded, smashing his fist down on the arm of his chair. ‘We have the greatest army ever assembled in the history of warfare, and the fiercest warriors in the world at its head. And I’m the best fighter of the lot of us! I’d defer to Heracles if he were still alive, but he’s not and now there’s no one who can match me for sheer power, brutality or skill in combat! If you must know, I came here with you to see whether Achilles was all he was made out to be, to see whether he could rival me. But he’s had his chance to prove himself and failed. Now the rest of the Greeks will have to acknowledge that I am without equal. Troy will have to fall to my efforts alone.’

  ‘Be careful, Ajax,’ Odysseus warned him. ‘You may be the greatest fighter we have – no one is disputing that – but you shouldn’t forget the gods. Even if you smash down the gates of Troy single-handedly and skewer Hector and Paris on your spear while you’re at it, it won’t have been without the help of the immortals.’

  ‘That may be the case for you, Odysseus, but not for me. Any coward or clod-brained peasant can win glory with the help of the gods; Troy will be mine without them.’

  Nestor drew a deep breath and looked at Odysseus, who arched his eyebrows in response. Antiphus, Eurybates and Arceisius looked into their cups, not daring to criticize a king, but Eperitus shook his head.

  ‘Only a fool thinks he can do without the gods, Ajax. It just angers them. If you want my advice, you’ll take those words back and promise a sacrifice to each of the Olympians.’

  ‘What’s said is said, Eperitus, and I’ll say it again to any man who asks me – or any god for that matter. As for Achilles, he’s clearly more of a little girl than a man. If you still want to lure him out of hiding, Odysseus, perhaps you should use those dresses and pretty trinkets you brought with you from Aulis.’

  ‘Zeus’s beard, Ajax,’ Odysseus said, sitting up sharply. ‘Perhaps that’s it!’

  Ajax roared with laughter and slapped the arms of his chair, just as Lycomedes was climbing the steps that led to the broad roof of the palace.

  ‘I’m sorry to interrupt your joke,’ he said as he joined them, an oily smile on his lips. ‘But perhaps now that you’ve enjoyed a good night’s sleep and a filling breakfast, this would be a good time to conduct your search of the palace? After all, you said you were going to have a look around for Achilles before you went.’

  ‘Why should we?’ said Ajax, balancing his chair on its back legs and looking at the king of Scyros. ‘You should know whether a great warrior like Achilles was hiding in your own palace, shouldn’t you? Besides, we’ve got a war to prepare for and the sooner we return to Aulis the sooner the day will come when we can sail for Troy.’

  ‘Well, if you insist . . .’ Lycomedes began, feigning disappointment.

  ‘There is something I’d like to see before we leave, though.’

  ‘Yes, King
Odysseus,’ said Lycomedes, his smile becoming suddenly forced. ‘Whatever you wish.’

  ‘So far our journey has proved fruitless,’ Odysseus said. ‘But I wouldn’t call it wasted if we could set eyes on your daughters. I’m told their beauty is unrivalled, so to have seen them would at least sweeten our return to Aulis.’

  ‘Most gracious of you to say so, but I’m afraid . . .’

  ‘Come now, Lycomedes,’ interrupted Nestor, who quickly sensed that Odysseus may have another motive. ‘Modesty isn’t becoming for a king and we won’t accept any excuses. As for myself, I’ve been eager to see these fabled maidens for some time, and if we can’t see them now then perhaps we can see them tomorrow. Or another day, if that isn’t convenient – after all, we’re in no particular hurry.’

  ‘And we’ve brought gifts,’ Odysseus added.

  Lycomedes looked at his guests in turn, then gave a resigned shrug of his shoulders.

  ‘Of course. They’re in the gardens with my grandson Neoptolemus but I’ll have them brought here . . .’

  ‘Oh, don’t trouble them,’ said Odysseus, rising from his chair and turning to his squire. ‘Eurybates, take Antiphus and Arceisius and bring the gifts to the king’s gardens as quickly as you can. And . . .’

  He walked over to Eurybates and whispered something in his ear, which only Eperitus with his supernatural hearing could pick up.

  ‘Yes, my lord,’ Eurybates replied, looking uncertain for a moment before dashing down the steps and back into the palace. Antiphus and Arceisius followed, their faces equally confused. Eperitus caught the familiar glimmer of a smile on Odysseus’s face – the look that always signalled a plan had come to him – but it was beyond him to understand the strange order he had just given to his squire.

  Lycomedes was soon leading them across the palace courtyard to the gardens, wringing his hands anxiously as he marched several paces ahead. The sweet fragrance of blossoms filled their nostrils as they reached an arched gateway in a high wall, where Lycomedes threw back his robe from his arm and knocked three times.

  There was a murmur of whispering from the other side, then a female voice said, ‘Who is it?’

  ‘It’s me, Deidameia, and I’ve brought guests. They want to see for themselves the famed beauty of my daughters, but I hope they’ll find you modestly covered.’

  Another rustle of lowered voices followed, punctuated by a giggle before the door swung open. A girl of perhaps seventeen or eighteen years bowed her head as she gave way before them. She had long dark hair that was held up in plaits about her head, and though her face was veiled her dark eyes watched them carefully as they entered in single file.

  Eperitus looked around at the walled garden, lined on each side by rows of blossoming trees. The lawn of coarse grass around each trunk was covered in fallen petals, though many more of the pink and white flowers remained on the thin, twisting branches above. Four cobbled paths stretched from the corners of the enclosure to the centre of the garden, where a circular pond was surrounded by flowers of every colour. Here, seated on stone benches or kneeling on the lawn, were a host of young women and girls. The eldest wore veils and all but one had dark hair and eyes. The exception was a tall, blonde girl standing at the back, whose blue eyes watched the newcomers closely. Sitting before them all, dangling his bare feet in the pond, was a young boy with light-coloured hair and a frown.

  ‘Look,’ boomed Ajax, pointing at the lad, ‘we’ve found the great Achilles!’

  ‘Unfortunately not,’ Lycomedes replied, smiling weakly. ‘This is Neoptolemus, Deidameia’s son.’

  ‘A handsome lad,’ Odysseus said, strolling down the path to stand opposite the boy. ‘He looks to have something of the gods about him. And his father?’

  ‘Gone away,’ said Deidameia, walking around the pond to pick up her child.

  Odysseus looked at the girl, who could only have been twelve or thirteen when she became a mother. The thin gauze across her face did little to hide her beauty: her skin was fashionably pale, her nose pert and attractive, and her lips full and red. Her chiton was worn short, revealing long, shapely legs, and she had no cloak in the warm sunlight to hide the smooth flesh of her shoulders and arms. Some of her sisters were similarly dressed, though others were more modest in their appearance, wearing their dresses long and hiding their naked limbs beneath thick shawls or cloaks. Odysseus held his arms out and Deidameia brought her son to him.

  The child looked sternly at Odysseus for a moment, then slapped his breastplate with the palms of his hands.

  ‘I will be a warrior when I’m older,’ he announced.

  Odysseus smiled back.

  ‘That’s good, son. But who will train you to fight? All I see is a host of aunts – have you no uncles?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘What about your father?’ Odysseus asked, running his thick fingers through the boy’s hair. He saw the eyes of the fair-headed maiden flash towards Deidameia, who quickly stepped forward and lifted Neoptolemus from Odysseus’s arms.

  ‘I told you, my lord, his father has gone away.’

  ‘And is his father blond, also?’ Odysseus asked. ‘It’s uncommon among Greeks.’

  ‘He is, my lord, and a more handsome man you will never set eyes upon. Neoptolemus’s father has immortal blood in his veins, though he himself is only a man, and as for all this talk of warriors – if you were to ever see my husband’s anger the blood would run from your face and leave you pale, though your skin is as brown as leather.’

  ‘Ah!’ Odysseus smiled back. ‘He must be a great warrior indeed, then. What’s his name, and where might we find him? He would be a welcome recruit to our cause.’

  From the corner of his eye he saw a movement among Deidameia’s sisters, and at the same time Lycomedes stepped forward.

  ‘The whereabouts of my daughter’s husband are unknown, King Odysseus,’ he insisted, his brow furrowed with barely concealed anger. ‘Now, I hope you’ve found my daughters pleasing, but as they usually bathe at this time of the day I don’t think we should keep them from their normal pleasures.’

  ‘Of course, King Lycomedes, though I would ask them to wait a short while longer. You forget the gifts I promised.’

  ‘Gifts?’ said one of the younger girls. ‘Oh, father, can’t we wait a little longer?’

  ‘Yes, father!’ came a chorus of voices.

  ‘Here they are now,’ Eperitus announced, seeing Antiphus and Eurybates struggle through the arched gateway with a casket between them.

  They were followed by Polites, whose size and strength allowed him to carry another casket unaided. Two more Ithacan sailors appeared with the last casket, which was dumped without ceremony on the lawn next to the other two. All the trunks were open, their heaped contents plain to see, but sitting on top of the dresses and pretty ornaments in the third – to the surprise of all but Odysseus and Eperitus – were a long spear and an ox-hide shield.

  ‘Help yourselves to whatever you desire,’ Odysseus announced as his men stepped back from the caskets.

  Lycomedes’s daughters surged forward to lay their hands on the mass of brightly coloured chitons and the sparkling collection of feminine baubles. As they squabbled with each other for this necklace or that sash, only Deidameia and the blonde maiden hung back. Eventually, Deidameia stepped forward and picked up an orange dress that had been tossed aside in the rush for gifts.

  ‘Here, Pyrrha,’ she said, handing it to her sister. ‘We’re the oldest and shouldn’t be left without gifts, after all.’

  Pyrrha snatched the garment and reluctantly held it against herself, in the same manner that some of her younger sisters were doing with the other dresses. As she did so she caught Odysseus’s eyes watching her. The Ithacan king smiled and nodded at the shield and spear, which remained untouched. Pyrrha looked at the armaments, then stared back at Odysseus with disdain in her blue eyes. A moment later she tossed aside the orange dress and instead picked up a sky-blue chiton – the same one Ajax h
ad mockingly pulled from the caskets the day before – and made a show of admiring its quality and beauty.

  ‘Come here, Eurybates,’ Odysseus ordered, then whispered something in his ear that even Eperitus could not hear over the clamour of Lycomedes’s daughters. ‘Now, take the men back to the ship and make ready to leave.’

  Eurybates, with a bemused look on his face, led the sailors from the garden. Meanwhile, Neoptolemus had left his place by the pond and was attempting to pick up the spear, which was far too heavy for him. Odysseus laughed.

  ‘Those are my gifts for you, lad. They may be big now, but you’ll grow into them.’

  Suddenly, a long horn-blast tore through the warm afternoon air, rising then falling away to silence. Another followed it, deep and lonely, causing everyone to look about themselves in surprise and shock. An instant later they heard the unmistakable clash of bronze against bronze and the shouts of men locked in combat. Antiphus came running in through the gateway, his sword drawn and his eyes wide with fear.

  ‘We’re being attacked!’ he shouted, falling to his knees in front of Odysseus. ‘Trojans have landed in the harbour – they’re killing everyone.’

  Eperitus instinctively fumbled for his sword, before recalling he had left it in the guest quarters.

  ‘Where’s the guard house?’ Ajax demanded, seizing Lycomedes by the shoulders and staring at him with fierce eyes. ‘Where do you keep your arms, man?’

  ‘Damn it all!’

  They turned to see the blonde maiden, Pyrrha, throwing off her cloak and chiton to reveal a naked and splendidly muscled body – the body of a man! He tore his veil aside and leapt to where Neoptolemus was still trying to lift the spear.

  ‘Give me that, lad,’ he ordered, gently easing the weapon out of the boy’s hands. A moment later he had lifted the shield onto his other arm and was dashing out to the courtyard.