Odysseus continued to stare from face to face, giving his words time to sink in and waiting for the angry murmurs of the Trojans to subside. Behind him, Eperitus pulled the small vial of powder from his pouch and held it in the palm of his hand, his eyes switching from Palamedes to Odysseus and back again.
‘What’s this all about, Odysseus?’ Hector said, unable to tolerate the silence any longer. ‘What does Menelaus want with my brother? Didn’t Paris visit him in Sparta? He had intended to go there first.’
‘My lord Hector, things haven’t started well between us. There’s been too much distrust on both sides, but if our peoples are to be saved from a great tragedy then we must agree to be open and honest with one another. Do you give me your word, as a warrior and a man of honour, that Paris is not in Troy, and that you haven’t seen him since he left for Greece?’
‘My brother hasn’t been seen or heard of for weeks, and may Zeus strike me down if I lie. Now tell me what you know of him, Odysseus.’
‘Is he dead?’ Priam interrupted, leaning forward slightly and curling his fingers anxiously over the armrest of his throne.
‘He lives, as far as I know, my lord,’ Odysseus answered, ‘unless the gods have avenged the dishonour he brought on your house. Because Paris did visit Sparta, and the last anybody saw of him he was fleeing the city with Menelaus’s wife as his captive.’
This time Hector and Priam did not pretend to wait for Idaeus’s translation.
‘What?’ Hector exclaimed in Greek, standing and staring at Odysseus through the haze thrown up by the hearth. ‘He wouldn’t dare!’
A moment later he was joined by the rest of the assembly, who after listening to Idaeus’s translation again left their seats and cried out as one in protest against the accusation.
‘No son of mine would do such a thing,’ said Priam, also in Greek, as he stepped down from the dais to stand next to Hector. ‘Kidnap a royal queen? He’s a prince and a warrior, and he is loyal to the will of his father. It’s just not possible!’
‘It’s true,’ said Menelaus, lifting his face from his hands and talking with deep despondency. ‘He was a guest in my home and swore a sacred oath of friendship to me, but the very night I went on a journey to Crete he stole Helen from me and took my lad, Pleisthenes, too.’
‘By all the sacred gods of Ilium!’ Priam exclaimed, leaning against Hector. ‘He can’t have!’
‘He has,’ Odysseus confirmed. ‘And throughout Greece the storm clouds are gathering. Unless Helen is returned, there will be war.’
This statement was greeted by more angry muttering from the Trojans, and in the buzz of voices Eperitus signalled to one of the slaves to bring wine. As the man began refilling his half-empty goblet, Eperitus moved to the seat beside Palamedes.
‘Fill this, too,’ he ordered, taking Palamedes’s goblet and passing it to the slave. Palamedes, who was growing more agitated as his eyes flicked between Odysseus and Priam, hardly seemed to notice Eperitus’s presence beside him.
‘Paris is not here,’ Priam said again, in a loud voice. ‘How do we know you’re telling us the truth until we speak to him? For all we know, Helen may have left willingly.’
Menelaus lifted his head sharply and there was anger in his eyes, but Odysseus spoke first.
‘We have taken you at your word, my lords, and accept that Paris has not yet returned to Troy; you must also take our word and believe that Menelaus’s wife was abducted by your son. I can understand why you might doubt me – a foreigner who comes to your city with the threat of war on his tongue – so instead I ask you to look at this man.’
Odysseus moved to stand behind Menelaus’s chair. His eyes rested briefly on Eperitus, who raised Palamedes’s goblet and poured the powder into it. Odysseus smiled and gave a subtle wink, before turning and placing his hands on the Spartan’s shoulders.
‘I’ve known this man for ten years,’ he told the assembled Trojans, ‘ever since the best of the Greeks gathered to pay court to the most beautiful woman in the world – Helen of Sparta. And of all the great men she could have chosen from – Diomedes, Ajax, Idomeneus and many more – she picked the greatest of us all, Menelaus. But look at him now, a ruin of his former self, destroyed by the loss of his wife. Could a man feign the rage and despair you yourselves have witnessed in him?’
He paused for Idaeus to translate his words, and as the Trojans discussed what Odysseus had said, Eperitus placed Palamedes’s goblet of wine on the table before him.
‘What do you think?’ he asked in a low voice. ‘Will they agree to return Helen?’
Palamedes’s eyelids were heavy with wine and his eyes unfocused. ‘Can’t be sure, but Hector’s certainly angry with Paris. He told Priam this is going to ruin everything he’s planned for.’
‘How could you know that?’ Eperitus asked, suddenly attentive. ‘Every word they’ve spoken to each other has been in their own language.’
‘My nursemaid was a Trojan slave, captured in a raid,’ Palamedes answered. ‘She taught me her language when I was a child, and I’ve been able to understand almost every word I’ve heard since arriving here.’
‘Then why didn’t you tell us that before?’ Eperitus snapped, feeling his temper rise at the sight of Palamedes’s smug grin.
But at that moment Odysseus held up his hands for silence. ‘Even if you don’t care for the suffering of this man,’ he continued, patting Menelaus’s shoulders, ‘even if your desire is to support Paris, regardless of whether Helen was taken from Sparta or left willingly, then think of the wider consequences. You’re all noblemen and many of you have royal blood in your veins. If you condone the abduction of a queen – Helen was not taken as a spoil of war like Hesione was, remember – you are saying that such acts are acceptable. Then where will you be? Moral standards will falter. The gods will abandon you. If in times of peace men are allowed to think that royal women are there to be plucked like apples from a tree, or women come to believe they are free to choose their lovers, how will you protect your own families? What’s more, how will you ever be sure that your children are truly yours? Do you want to raise the bastard sons of others as your own and let them inherit what is not theirs? If you do not give Helen back to Menelaus when Paris returns, then you will be responsible for the doom that follows!’
Odysseus’s final sentence rang ominously through the silent hall. Eperitus could see by the looks on the faces of the Trojans that his words had hit their mark, but in the moments of quiet that followed all he could think of was the warning given to him by Calchas. What if the priest was right and peace now would only open the way to a Trojan invasion of Greece? Were these the plans Palamedes had overheard Hector talking of? And if so, would they ultimately lead to the conquest of Ithaca and the destruction of everything Odysseus held most precious? He watched Priam and Hector leaning into each other and whispering urgently, and wondered whether the fearsome Trojan prince was thinking of how to keep the Greeks from attacking Ilium before his own plans could come to fruition.
‘Your king speaks well,’ Palamedes said, reaching for the drugged goblet. ‘Too well for the good of Greece.’
Eperitus watched the man’s fingers curl around the stem of the cup. He thought for a moment then hooked his foot around Palamedes’s chair and pulled it backwards. Palamedes grabbed the table in an attempt to regain his balance, knocking the cup to the floor with a clang. Odysseus turned to see the dark wine spreading over the flagstones, and the confident gleam in his eye wavered. A moment later Hector spoke.