‘My father and I have come to an agreement. In view of Menelaus’s anger with my brother we think it wise that he returns to Sparta as soon as practical. However, as we intend to give his wife back to him’ – Menelaus raised his head at these words, his eyes wide, almost disbelieving – ‘we invite you, Odysseus, to remain here until Paris returns so that you can escort her back to Greece. Regardless of why Helen is with Paris – and we do not yet accept she was taken against her will – we agree with Odysseus and don’t want to set a precedent. Is this agreeable?’
‘No,’ said Palamedes, rising unsteadily to his feet. ‘No it isn’t. My friend has spoken truly, for it’s a vile crime to steal a man’s wife, but there is also the matter of compensation.’
‘Sit down, you fool,’ Odysseus commanded, his voice stern. ‘Sit down before I knock you down.’
‘Yes, sit down Palamedes,’ Menelaus agreed.
‘I will not sit down! You may think, Hector, that Troy can escape its crime by returning Helen, but Agamemnon, Menelaus’s brother and the most powerful of all the Greeks, does not. He demands that Priam pay compensation.’
There was an ugly muttering from amongst the ranks of Trojan nobles. Priam’s face was like stone, and Hector’s expression was dark and menacing.
‘Go on,’ he said, slowly. ‘Name your demands.’
‘There are no demands,’ Odysseus insisted.
‘Agamemnon feels that, as Paris will almost certainly have violated Helen and made the atrocity more heinous, Menelaus’s suffering cannot be measured by financial compensation alone. He therefore demands an annual tribute in copper, timber, wool and slaves – the exact amounts to be negotiated – as well as the handing over of three Trojan cities: one for himself, one for Menelaus and the third for Odysseus . . .’
‘You lying dog!’ Odysseus shouted, springing towards Palamedes with his fists raised.
Eperitus quickly flung himself between the two men.
‘Fighting Palamedes won’t help!’ he hissed, placing the flats of his hands against the king’s chest as Palamedes retreated behind him.
‘So that was your intention all along, was it?’ Priam crowed, standing on the royal dais and shaking his fist at Odysseus. ‘A city of your own in payment for the return of Helen and the humbling of Troy. Do you think we would ever have agreed to such terms?’
A silver cup was thrown from amidst the mob of angry officials, hitting Odysseus on the back. Another glanced off his arm, followed by a torrent of abuse. Eperitus stepped in front of his king and looked quickly about the room as more cups, plates and pieces of food were thrown at them. An armed warrior stood at each exit, but the remainder were already closing in on the Greeks, their spear-points lowered threateningly. It would still be possible to rush the soldiers before they could bring their weapons to bear, Eperitus thought, but even if they overpowered them and took their spears and shields, it was unlikely that they could fight their way out of the city and back across the plain to their ship. Escape was impossible.
‘I say we should kill them,’ said a short man with a crooked nose and pointed beard. ‘If Paris has taken this man’s wife, then let’s do away with him now and at least then the Greeks will have no further claim on the woman!’
There was a murmur of agreement, but then a voice called out from the crowd.
‘Peace, my friends! Sit down! Don’t let Antimachus’s words add fuel to your anger. Remember these men are our guests and under the protection of Zeus himself. If you harm them, you defy the gods and bring judgement upon yourselves!’
It was Antenor. He had forced his way through the closing circle of Trojans to stand with his arms aloft between them and the outnumbered Greeks. His countrymen shouted at the old man and told him to stand aside, but advanced no further. Then Hector appeared, clearing a passage through the throng to stand face to face with Odysseus.
‘You insult us with your deceit, Odysseus. If I was free to do as I pleased, I’d tear you to pieces right now with my own hands. But Antenor is right: you remain guests here, and I’ll not bring the wrath of the gods down on Troy by killing you.’
Odysseus met the Trojan’s stormy gaze without flinching. ‘You’re a fool, Hector. We came to offer you the chance of righting the wrong Paris has done, but from the moment of our arrival you chose to treat us with hostility. Now, if you really respect the will of the gods, you’ll let us return to our ship unmolested.’
‘I’ll make sure you’re escorted back in safety,’ Hector replied, sternly. ‘Have no fear of that. But once you’ve left our waters, I advise you never to return. If you do, you’ll find us ready for you.’
Chapter Fifteen
THE GATHERING AT AULIS
They all knew they had been fortunate to escape from Troy alive. The hostility in Priam’s throne room was nothing compared with the anger that awaited them on the streets of the city. By the time they had rejoined Antiphus, Polites and Arceisius and marched out of the citadel gates, they found a large mob had already assembled beyond the walls, armed with rocks, lumps of wood and even a few spears. Only the escort of a hundred warriors enabled the Greeks to reach the Scaean Gate unharmed, and it was not until they felt the gentle motion of the Ithacan warship beneath their feet once more that they could finally relax.
The relief of being free of Troy gave each of them a sense of calm. Palamedes sat in the prow, his arms crossed over his knees and his chin resting on his forearm staring blankly ahead of himself. Menelaus joined the three guardsmen on the benches and took hold of one of the polished oars, pulling quietly in time with the rest of the crew as Eurybates steered the ship out of the harbour. What he was thinking as he looked over his shoulder at the high citadel no man could tell. Odysseus and Eperitus withdrew to the stern, from where they looked back in silence at the broad plain with its scattered farmsteads and flocks of sheep, its corralled horses and the city of tents by the mouth of the Simo¨eis. It all seemed so peaceful as they watched the walls of the citadel turn pink in the light of the lowering sun.
As the ship slipped back out to sea and Troy was lost behind the wooded headland, Antiphus brought Calchas to the king. He had arrived shortly before Odysseus’s return and surrendered himself to the crew, insisting he had information that would be of use to the Greeks.
‘What information?’ Odysseus asked the hooded priest, whom he had recognized immediately.
‘What I have to say is for all the kings of Greece together, or none at all.’
‘Why don’t you tell it to the fish, then,’ Odysseus responded, grabbing a fistful of Calchas’s robes and almost carrying him to the side of the ship. The man’s hood slipped back to reveal his bald head and pale, drawn features.
‘Wait!’ Eperitus shouted, rushing over and grabbing Calchas’s arm, fearing that in the mood he was in Odysseus would cast him overboard without a second thought. ‘If he says he has information then we should trust him. When he spoke to me in Priam’s palace he told me things about myself that only you and I know. He knew about the powder you gave me, Odysseus, and he even knows about the gathering at Aulis. He’s a seer like none I’ve ever come across, other than the Pythoness herself. Calchas,’ he added, turning to the cowering priest, ‘I don’t know what this other information you have is, but at least tell Odysseus what you told me in the throne room.’
Odysseus pinned Calchas against the side of the ship, where clouds of spray soaked his clothing and formed into watery beads that trickled off his hairless scalp.
‘Tell me what you know, Trojan, or you can swim to Greece instead.’
‘Hector has been preparing Troy for war against Greece,’ Calchas stuttered. ‘The galleys you saw in the bay, the army camped on the plain – they’re just the beginning.’