by Stephen Fry
THE PLAN …
When Odysseus described his idea in detail, there were several in Agamemnon’s general staff – Neoptolemus and Philoctetes the most prominent amongst them – who tried to shout him down.
‘It’ll never work.’
‘They’ll burn it first.’
‘Wouldn’t fool a child.’
‘Thirty men? And you’ll be one of them, will you?’
‘I don’t think so!’
‘Far and away the stupidest …’
‘… mad … hare-brained … suicidal …’
Agamemnon raised his sceptre and silence fell. ‘Athena told you this?’
‘Every detail,’ said Odysseus. ‘I was as astonished as you all are. But she promised me that it will work.’ He turned to the others. ‘And yes, certainly I will be one of the thirty men inside. I have no wish for history to count me amongst the cowards who didn’t believe. One of the traitors who spoke against the only plan that can ensure our victory. I will be one of the thirty whom fame will never forget. I expect there to be a fight for places.’
The force and conviction of his speech had its effect.
‘I came here to do battle against the enemy, not to squeeze myself into the belly of a wooden fire trap,’ said Neoptolemus.
‘I understand how you and Philoctetes, who have known only a few weeks’ fighting, still believe that force of arms is the only way,’ said Odysseus. ‘But the rest of us are weary of battle and ready to try cunning over killing. Wit over war, you know? Boldness and brains over butchery and blood?’
A grim murmur of agreement from the others silenced the doubters.
‘How will we make this thing?’ asked Menelaus.
‘I suggest EPEIUS,’ said Odysseus. ‘He constructed the stockade. As we all know, the best and sturdiest of all the huts and buildings in this camp are those of his design. Back home in Phocis he supervised the construction of temples, ships and whole towns.’
Epeius was called for. He was not the most popular of the Achaean warriors. Many had observed that he was never to be found in the front line where the danger was greatest. He could fight one to one as well as any man, however. He had defeated Diomedes’ companion Euryalus in the boxing match that had formed part of the funeral games held for Patroclus. And in those held not long after in honour of Achilles, even ACAMAS – son of the great Theseus, the inventor of wrestlingfn1 – had been unable to defeat him. If he was surprised to be summoned to this meeting of all the great leaders of the Achaean expeditionary force, he concealed it well.
Odysseus spoke for ten minutes and Epeius nodded as he listened.
‘Ingenious,’ he murmured when Odysseus had finished. ‘A wooden horse, you think? Not an elephant, perhaps?’
There was some laughter at his. Odysseus was quick to laugh too.
‘I mean, thirty men …’ said Epeius. ‘They will have to breathe, after all.’
‘Thirty is the smallest number to be sure of success. You can do it, Epeius.’
‘I will need to build a high wall first to screen what we’re doing from the sight of the Trojans and their spies.’
‘I’ve thought of that. It should be a rough wooden fence. It should look like a continuation of the stockade. High enough to screen your work, certainly, but a solid wall would excite suspicion.’
Epeius nodded. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I had better get to work. Before anything else we will need to go to the western slopes of Ida to fell pine trees and transport the timber back here to my site. I shall need mules and men. May I choose whomever I need to work alongside me?’
Agamemnon waved a hand. ‘Take anyone and anything you want.’
When Epeius and Odysseus had gone, Agamemnon turned to Calchas. ‘We are doing the right thing? I mean, it’s one hell of a risk.’
‘The idea is bold, sire,’ agreed Calchas, ‘but something in it accords with a strange sight that caught my eye late last afternoon. I saw a falcon swooping down on a dove. Terrified, the dove flew into the cleft of a rock. For a long time I watched as the frustrated falcon flew around the rock, too big to follow his quarry in. This wheeling about called to mind our armies circling and circling Troy to no avail. But then the falcon stopped and concealed itself in a bush opposite the opening. It waited there, invisible and silent. Then I saw the dove put out its head, look around and take off. Immediately the falcon flew from the bush and fell upon it. The meaning of this came to me at once. Troy will fall, not to speed and strength, but to cunning, my lord king. And then the very next morning Odysseus comes to tell us of his strategy …’ He raised his palms upwards, as if to express his wonder at the imponderably mysterious ways of the gods, the Fates and destiny.
‘Hm,’ said Agamemnon, sharing an eye-roll with Menelaus.
Epeius fizzed and spun and sparked like Hephaestus as he worked. Rumours flew around the camp that he was expending jewels and precious metals on the detailing for his great wooden beast.
‘From out of the shared prize chest!’ some muttered angrily.
Mostly there was excitement and support for the project. All wished that they could see it more clearly, however. The scaffolding that Epeius had erected to facilitate the construction of the horse was as effective a screen against Greek eyes as the great wooden palisade around the whole project was against Trojan. They heard the sawing and hammering, but could see none of the work in progress.
Odysseus, meanwhile, was clarifying the finer points of the plan for the benefit of Agamemnon and other senior commanders.
‘If we simply up sticks and abandon the whole encampment, leaving nothing but the horse for the Trojans to find, they will be wary,’ he said.
‘But I thought that was the whole point. For us to clear out completely?’ said Aias.
‘Yes, but there must be someone left behind to explain the horse. To allow the Trojans to believe that it is safe for them to bring it into the city.’
Agamemnon frowned. ‘I don’t get you.’
‘And I have just the fellow,’ said Odysseus, stepping aside and snapping his fingers at the curtain behind him. On this cue a stocky, broad-shouldered man stepped through and executed a short, ironic bow. At the sight of him there was a rumble of surprise and doubt.
‘SINON?’ said Agamemnon. ‘I thought you two hated each other.’
Odysseus smiled. ‘There isn’t much love lost …’
‘My cousin Odysseus is a lying, cheating bastard,’ said Sinon, ‘and I can’t stand the bloody sight of him.’
‘That much is known,’ agreed Odysseus. ‘The part about him not being able to bear the sight of me, that is,’ he added quickly. ‘The rest is gross slander born of envy. I simply can’t imagine why you’re all laughing. The point is that even the Trojans know that Sinon and I are mortal enemies. It makes his treachery all the more believable.’
‘His what? Explain yourself.’
Odysseus explained himself.
‘You really are a cunning one, aren’t you?’ said Agamemnon when he had heard it all. ‘No one else in the wide world could have come up with anything half as devious.’
It sounded more like disapproval than praise.
‘Not I, great king,’ said Odysseus, raising his hands in shocked protest. ‘Athena. She came to me in a dream and laid out every detail. I am but her puppet, her dumb vessel.’
THE HORSE
Priam and his retinue made their way towards the vacated Achaean encampment. As they crossed the Scamander and drew closer, the great wooden horse seemed to grow and grow, its shape rising up in silhouette against the white glare of the sky.
The captain of the guard, having led the scouting party, was now leaning proprietorially again the horse’s gigantic left foreleg with that air of proud ownership peculiar to those who have been first to make a great find. At the king’s approach he straightened up.
Never had such a thing been seen. In three short days Epeius and his construction team had surpassed themselves. The attention to detail was asto
nishing. The greater part of the back, flanks and belly were formed of overlapping wooden staves, like the lapstrakes of a clinker-built boat, every plank curved, turned and planed true and smooth. To the neck was attached a spangled, purple-fringed mane, tasselled with gold. The eye sockets of the horse were inlaid with beryl and amethyst, setting off a gleam of contrasting colours – rolling, blood-red eyes, rimmed with green. A bridle studded with ivory and silvered bronze flashed and shimmered on the proud head, which was caught in mid-turn, as if some invisible rider had just that moment pulled on the reins. The lips were parted to reveal a jagged row of fierce white teeth.
Priam and the Trojans who stood looking up in shocked amazement could not guess that the horse’s great mouth was open not to convey savagery and strength (although it did) but to allow fresh, breathable air to flow through the concealed ducts that ran inside the neck and down into the belly.
The hoofs on each leg were sheathed in tortoiseshell fixed with rings of bronze. From pricked ears to sweeping plaited tail, the effect was of swift majestic life.
In silent wonder Priam and his courtiers took in the sight.
Deiphobus stroked the legs, awestruck but puzzled.
‘We must destroy it!’ cried Cassandra. ‘Destroy it, burn it, before it destroys and burns us all.’
‘Remarkable,’ said Priam at length. ‘Quite remarkable. You feel as if at any moment Ares himself might mount this great steed and gallop into battle.’
‘But what is it?’ said Hecuba. ‘I mean, what is it for?’
‘It is for the destruction of Troy,’ wailed Cassandra.
Polydamas called to his king from under the belly. ‘Be pleased to come round to this side, sire,’ he said. ‘There’s something here you should see.’
And there they were, letters of gold painted all along the right flank.
‘LAOCOÖN, you can read these markings; come forward and tell us what they mean,’ said Priam, gesturing to a priest of Apollo who was standing close by with his two sons, ANTIPHANTES and THYMBRAEUS.
Laocoön stepped up and examined the writing. ‘It says, “For their return home, the Hellenes dedicate this offering to Athena.”’
‘Ah, so it is for the goddess. A gift?’
‘Sire, you cannot trust the Greeks, even when they bear gifts.’
‘You fear this object?’
Laocoön took a sword from one of the soldiers and slapped the flat of its blade sharply against the horse’s belly. ‘I say burn it. I say b-b … I say …’
But Laocoön was unable to say anything. His mouth opened and closed. Foam started coming up from his throat and he began to twitch and spasm. Antiphantes and Thymbraeus rushed to hold him up.
‘Come, father, sit down here,’ said Antiphantes.
‘It is nothing, majesty,’ Thymbraeus assured the king. ‘The fit is on him, it happens sometimes.’
‘Hm. Maybe the gods wanted to strike him dumb for daring to doubt this thank-offering,’ said Deiphobus.
‘We should at least leave it out here, where the Greeks left it,’ said Priam.
‘You couldn’t move it into Troy even if you wanted to,’ growled a voice.
Priam turned to see a bloodied and beaten man, short and powerfully built, who was being held up between two soldiers.
‘Shut your mouth, Greek dog!’ said one of them, striking him hard across the mouth. ‘You are in the presence of a king.’
‘Who is this?’
‘He calls himself Sinon, your majesty. We found him hiding in the marshes behind the dunes here. He tried to run away when we approached, but we caught him.’
‘Let him come forward,’ said Priam. ‘He has nothing to be afraid of if he tells us the truth honestly before the gods. I’m sorry, Sinon, my men should have treated you more kindly.’
‘He was already beaten half to a pulp when we found him, majesty. Says the Greeks did it to him.’
‘His own people?’
Sinon was pushed down at the king’s feet, from where he snivelled and whimpered his replies to the questions – and occasional blows – that rained down on him.
Slowly they were able to piece the whole story together. Odysseus, cursed, vile, cunning Odysseus – Sinon spat every time he had to utter the name – had told Agamemnon that the horse must be built and left on the shore to honour Athena, who was angry on account of the blasphemous theft of the Palladium from her temple. That sacrilege meant that the Achaean forces had doomed themselves. They could never win the war. Even safe passage home would be denied them, unless they offered the horse to the goddess.
‘The Greeks could never win the war?’ said Priam. ‘They believed that?’
‘Their prophet Calchas, he said that it was true. That it was time to go home. He said the Trojans had pleased the gods with their honourable and pious conduct, but that we had angered them.’
‘My very words!’ said Hecuba. ‘What was I saying to you, Priam? The gods understand that we do not deserve to lose our city. I knew it!’
Priam squeezed her hand. ‘So they really have abandoned the fight?’ he asked Sinon.
‘Look around you, king. Tents and pickets burned. Ships loaded and hours since sailed for home. Except for poor bloody Sinon, of course.’
Priam frowned at the Greek. ‘So why are you here?’
‘Do you remember one of the Achaean generals, a cousin of our chief Agamemnon, name of Palamedes?’
‘Of course.’
‘Well, Palamedes was the one who all those years ago saw through Odysseus – twah!’ – another violent hawking spit – ‘and his feigned madness on Ithaca. The coward was trying to wangle his way out of honouring his oath. He never forgave Palamedes for exposing him. So one day, must have been nine or ten years ago … close to the beginning of this stinking war … one day the body of a killed and captured Trojan was found, and on it a message apparently from you, your majesty, thanking Palamedes for helping the Trojan cause.’
‘I sent no such message,’ said Priam. ‘I barely knew the man.’
‘Of course not. I saw with my own eyes Odysseus – twah! – planting the document. And I followed him later that same day and watched him bury Trojan gold in the ground by Palamedes’ tent. The gold was found. Palamedes protested his innocence, but no one believed him, and he was stoned to death as a traitor. I should have spoken out, but Agamemnon and all those close to him – oh, how they love that cunning Ithacan … The evil bastard saw the look in my eyes, though. He knew I knew; and I knew my days were numbered. But the years passed and nothing happened. I thought maybe he’d forgiven me. Oh, he knows how to bide his time, that one! Just when I think I’m safe and going home with all the others, home to my town, my wife and my children, the blow falls. Odysseus – twah! – persuades Calchas to tell Agamemnon that, to make the offering of the horse to Athena complete, a sacrifice is needed. A human sacrifice. Calchas loves to be the centre of attention. Loves to wield the silver knife. Back when we were becalmed at Aulis he convinced Agamemnon he had to sacrifice his own daughter Iphigenia, so this was nothing. You can imagine how eagerly he agreed. The King of Men fell for it, of course. The sacrificial victim was to be chosen by lottery. And guess who arranged the lottery? Who but – twah! twah! twah!’ Sinon’s spitting exploded into a paroxysm of coughing.
‘You were chosen?’
‘Of course I was. They beat me – see the welts and bruises – then they penned me into a cage like I was some kind of goat. But the gods were watching over me last night. While they were feasting and dancing and singing their blasphemous songs, I broke out. I fled and hid in the dunes. Watched them cut their cables and sail away, leaving me here to the tender mercies of these lovely soldiers of yours.’
‘Well,’ said Priam. ‘That’s quite a story.’
‘“Story” is what it is!’ wailed Cassandra. ‘Lies. Lies cunningly wrapped in truths. Kill him and burn the horse!’
‘One thing cannot be denied, father,’ said Deiphobus, looking down on Sinon. �
��The enmity between this man and his kinsman Odysseus is an established fact.’
‘True, sire,’ said the captain of the guard. ‘We’ve all heard stories of their feuding.’
‘I’ve heard them, too,’ said Antenor. ‘I believe they share a grandfather in Autolycus, a son of the divine Hermes. But it’s well known that they’ve never been able to abide the sight of one another. Rumours of the plot against Palamedes had reached me too. It all hangs together. I believe this wretched man.’
‘As do I,’ said Priam.
‘I don’t care if you believe me or not,’ said Sinon. ‘It’s all the bloody same to me.’
‘You’ll address his majesty with respect,’ said the captain of the guard, delivering a kick vicious enough to make Sinon double up in pain.
‘And this horse,’ said Deiphobus, looking up at it. ‘You think Athena has accepted it and granted the cursed Danaans favourable passage home?’
‘Oh, the horse is a blessing and a protection all right,’ gasped Sinon, holding his side. ‘But the crafty bugger has made sure that you could never get the benefit of it.’
‘How so?’
‘He told its builder, Epeius the Phocian, to make sure the thing was higher than the highest of your city gates. Troy can never fall if that horse is inside the walls, but you’ll never get it in there!’ Sinon fell into a fit of wheezing laughter. ‘He’s foxed you there, all right!’
‘Hm.’ Deiphobus frowned. ‘Well, what’s to stop us from taking it apart, carrying it through and reassembling it inside the city?’
‘He thought of that too. See how the staves of wood interlink and overlap? Epeius made sure they are so cunningly fitted one into the other that you’d have to smash the whole thing up. Athena would turn the blessing into a curse if you did that, don’t you think? I hate Odysseus – twah! – with my heart, soul and guts, but you’ve got to hand it to him. Maybe Agamemnon plans to be back in a year or two with a bigger army yet. They couldn’t risk letting you make Troy safe under the protection of this charmed horse, now, could they?’
