The Oracles of Troy (The Adventures of Odysseus) (52 page)

It was the darkest moment he could remember since the murder of his daughter. He had been powerless, then, to stop Agamemnon from sacrificing Iphigenia to appease the gods, and now he had failed Astynome too. Apheidas had murdered her and deprived him of his only joy in life, his only hope for the future. A blackness descended on his heart. He looked around at the countless snakes surrounding him and pictured them crawling closer and closer, finally darting towards him and burying their fangs deep into his flesh. And when death had overcome him they would cover his body with theirs, just as somewhere in that wide pit they had already covered Astynome’s. It seemed an ironic end – so different to the glorious death he had always expected – and yet he supposed it would be easy enough. He lowered the torch and watched as the serpents stopped retreating before it.

Then he heard a noise – small, almost lost among the constant, menacing hiss. A sob. Quickly, he raised the torch and held it in the direction of the sound. Another sob was followed by a low moan, and then he saw her, a black-robed figure lying on the steps above the deadly reach of the creatures below. Life and the desperate love of it came rushing back into Eperitus’s veins.

‘Astynome!’

He waved the torch in another circle about him, driving the snakes back again, but the torch was dying and he knew time was running out.

‘Astynome, can you hear me?’

The crumpled figure groaned again and began to move. There was a squeal of pain followed by a sharp intake of breath, but she raised her head and looked at him groggily.

‘Eperitus?’

‘Yes, it’s me. Are you badly hurt?’

‘Gods!’ she exclaimed, pushing herself up on her elbows. ‘The snakes!’

‘You’re safe. You landed on the steps, but you might have broken something.’

‘I think I’ve sprained my ankle. I don’t know if it’s broken, though.’

‘Wait, I’ll come to you.’

‘But the snakes –’

‘Don’t move, Astynome.’

Eperitus looked down at the floor and the mass of legless, lipless creatures that carpeted it. The flame sputtered, its light already receding so that the hundreds of snakes became a single, glistening throng that coiled and slithered in the shadows all about him, their eyes momentarily reflecting the fire as he passed the torch this way and that. Again he felt his stomach muscles tighten and he had to fight the weakness in his limbs that forbade him to take the first step. Then he recalled Apheidas’s words: that for a man to conquer his fears he had to face them. He thought, too, of what his father had told him about being bitten as a child, a traumatic memory that his mind had buried deep in his unconscious to leave only a fear and loathing of snakes behind. But the gods had protected him then and they would protect him now.

He took a step towards Astynome and the snakes retreated before his torch, though not as far as he would have liked. He threw a glance at the foot of the stairs, not wanting to take his eyes for more than a moment from the deadly reptiles that surrounded him. The steps were still five or six paces away, not nearly close enough to jump onto, and stopped half a man’s height above the floor.

‘The torch’s going out,’ Astynome warned, desperation entering her voice.

‘Don’t worry. I’ve got an idea.’

Ideas were more Odysseus’s domain than his own, but fear had sharpened his mind and he knew there was but one chance to get out alive. He waved the torch again and took another step towards Astynome. The snakes moved back, but only a little. One unfortunate strike now might reach him. Quickly, he slipped his grandfather’s shield from his back and let it lean against his shoulder, while with his free hand he untied the knot in its leather sling and loosened the excess. He pulled his dagger from his belt and cut the sling, winding one end tightly around his wrist.

‘
Eperitus
!’

The torch fizzled and went out. He tossed it aside and threw the broad shield down onto the coiling, twisting brood before him. There was a sharp hiss and a snap from behind: one of the snakes had darted at him and missed. Eperitus jumped onto the shield, feeling the soft, spongy mass beneath the leather as he sprang off again and reached for the stairs. Somehow he found them, his ribs colliding painfully with the stone steps, despite his breastplate, as he clawed his way to safety. He sensed bodies striking at the air about his ankles and then he was up, safe, with Astynome sobbing as she tried frantically to haul his heavy bulk higher up the steps.

‘It’s alright,’ he gasped. ‘It’s alright, I’m safe.’

‘Have you been bitten?’ she asked, the panic clear in her voice.

‘No, no. I didn’t feel anything.’

He lay on his back, looking up at the orange-hued clouds passing over the pit, and shuddered from head to foot. The convulsive shivering did not stop until Astynome lowered her face over his and kissed him.

‘Thank you for coming after me,’ she whispered.

He reached up and touched her cheek. ‘I wouldn’t have abandoned you. But next time I’ll use the steps.’

She smiled and he sat up, feeling the tug of the leather strap around his wrist. Taking it in both hands, he pulled his grandfather’s shield slowly from the pit, pausing only to make sure there were no snakes attached to it before knotting the two ends of the strap and slinging the shield onto his back once more. He bent down and lifted Astynome into his arms, then carried her back up to the garden above.

‘Did Apheidas escape?’

‘Yes,’ he answered.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t stay back as you ordered. What are you going to do?’

‘Take you somewhere safe,’ he said, lowering her onto a stone bench and kneeling before her. ‘Which ankle is it?’

‘That one. Ouch! Be careful.’

‘I don’t think it’s broken, but I doubt you’ll be able to walk on it for a few days.’

‘What about Apheidas? Are you going after him?’

‘And leave you here? Listen to what’s happening out there. Look at the sky, the smoke … They’ll be looting this house and putting it to the torch before long and I
won’t
abandon you to be raped and murdered. Your life is far more important to me than his death. I’m only sorry I didn’t listen to you earlier.’

As he spoke, they heard crashes and shouts erupt from the hall.

‘Where’s that lead to?’ Eperitus asked, picking Astynome up again and nodding towards the door that Apheidas had escaped through.

‘An alley alongside the temple of Apollo.’

Eperitus crossed the garden as quickly as he could with Astynome in his arms and kicked open the door. To his right, the alley continued to the battlements and bent round to the right again, with a side entrance in the temple wall opposite. To the left he saw the small square he had crossed earlier to enter Apheidas’s house and ran towards it. A body now lay face-down at its centre – an old man with a dagger protruding from his ribs. Astynome gasped at the sight and turned her face away.

‘We’ll see a lot more corpses before this night’s over,’ Eperitus said.

He ran on, following Astynome’s directions as they headed for the gate to the lower city. Buildings were burning on all sides, throwing orange sparks and columns of black smoke into the air, while here and there groups of marauding soldiers shouldered open doors and ransacked houses at sword point. The screams from within declared the fate of the occupants. After they had seen the second body of a child, Astynome buried her face in Eperitus’s shoulder and refused to look any more. Then a harsh call rang out and two Greeks blocked Eperitus’s path.

‘Give us the woman,’ the first demanded. ‘We’ll pay for her. Look.’

He pointed to two other men, standing in a doorway surrounded by looted goods. One of them lifted a skin of wine in one hand and a copper bowl in the other.

‘Not interested,’ Eperitus replied, and made to move around them.

The second man stepped in front of him, blocking his way. He was tall and strong, and an axe hung loosely but menacingly from his right hand. Eperitus felt Astynome’s arms tighten about him.

‘It’s a fair exchange,’ the man said. ‘We don’t want to cheat a fellow Greek. And we don’t want to
kill
a countryman, either, unless we have to.’

Eperitus took two steps back towards a nearby wall and lowered Astynome to her feet. She laid a hand against the wall for support.

‘That’s more like it,’ the first man said.

The smile dropped from his face when Eperitus drew his sword. The man placed both hands about the haft of his axe and was hurriedly joined by his comrades from the doorway. Then a voice called out.

‘Eperitus!’

Eperitus turned to see Omeros running towards him, accompanied by Antiphus and Polites. At the sight of the giant Ithacan and the bow in Antiphus’s hand, Eperitus’s assailants moved back and retrieved their trinkets, before slipping off into the shadows.

‘Excellent timing, Omeros,’ Eperitus greeted him. ‘Truly excellent.’

He embraced each of the Ithacans in turn, elated to see friendly faces amid the chaos of Troy’s demise.

‘Is it like this everywhere?

Antiphus nodded. ‘Worse in most places. Agamemnon ordered every male Trojan to be murdered and every building to be burned. Diomedes, Idomeneus and a few of the others are trying to restore some order, but the whole army’s been struck with madness.’

‘Have you seen Odysseus?’ Omeros asked. ‘We’ve been looking for him.’

Eperitus felt sudden shame that he had not given a single thought to his king’s safety since leaving him and Menelaus on their search for Helen.

‘He was heading for the palace when we parted. I’ll go see if he’s still there.’

‘We’ll come with you,’ Polites said.

‘No. I want you to take Astynome back to the ships at once. Avoid danger and don’t delay – I’m holding each of you responsible for her safety. And she’s hurt her leg; you’ll need to carry her, Polites.’

Polites nodded and before Astynome could protest, plucked her up in his broad arms as if she weighed no more than a child. Eperitus stroked her hair and kissed her.

‘You’ll be safe now – I trust these men with my life, and I know they won’t let you be harmed.’

Astynome smiled at him.

‘It’s not me I’m worried about. It’s you. Find Odysseus, but promise me you won’t go hunting Apheidas. He still has a hold on you, Eperitus.’

‘If you’re looking for your father,’ Omeros interrupted, mishearing their conversation, ‘we saw him heading up the ramp towards the palace only a short while ago. He was limping, but he still cut down every man we saw stand in his way.’

‘Eperitus,’ Astynome urged. ‘Promise me.’

‘I promise he won’t come between us again,’ he answered, kissing her one last time before setting off at a run.

T
HE
R
APE OF
C
ASSANDRA

H
ow do I find Apheidas’s house?’ Odysseus asked.

‘Apheidas is dead,’ Hecabe said. ‘By now they’ll all be dead.’

‘Do you know where he lives?’

Odysseus looked at the old woman. Tears had traced clean lines down her smoke-stained cheeks and her grief for Priam had left her eyes devoid of life; and yet she had summoned the strength and courage to stand and follow Odysseus.

‘Through there,’ she answered, pointing down the nearest street.

It was filled with figures moving to and fro, their identities hidden by the flames and smoke that filled the narrow thoroughfare. As they watched, a wall of one of the burning buildings collapsed and fell down into the street, burying several people and sending up a cloud of dust to mingle with the smoke. The screams of the injured followed it.

‘Is there another way?’

‘Why does it matter? Even Apheidas can’t have survived
this
, and by now his house will be just another smoking ruin.’

‘My friend went there. I need to know he’s safe.’

‘Of course you must,’ the old woman sighed. ‘Forgive me. You can go around by the city walls.’

Odysseus took the Trojan queen’s hand and led her through the relentless anarchy towards the high battlements that ran behind Pergamos. Seeing Hecabe’s age, none of the pillaging soldiers tried to stop them as they picked their way between the dead and dying. Another building collapsed ahead of them in a cascade of fiery debris. Odysseus waited a moment, then raising his hand before his eyes forged through the dust cloud that had billowed up from the ruins like a wraith. Hecabe followed, choking loudly. A figure lurched towards them through the haze, but Odysseus knocked it aside with his shield. The scream indicated it was a woman.

‘Come on,’ he said to Hecabe, his voice rasping from the dryness in his throat.

They staggered on down the street, grey from the dust and ash, and reached the steps that led up to the ramparts. Odysseus placed a foot on the first step, but Hecabe held back.

‘Not up there,’ she said. ‘Down here.’ She pointed to a shadow-filled alley that ran between two houses to their left. ‘It leads to the temple of Apollo, next to Apheidas’s house.’

Odysseus peered cautiously into the alley. Everything was silent and black, but as he stared he thought he saw a movement, the faintest glimmer of polished metal in the gloom. Pushing Hecabe behind him, he drew his sword.

‘Who’s there?’

He was answered by a roar of anger. A figure dashed at him from the darkness, a blade gleaming in its hand. Odysseus raised his shield, blocking the thrust aimed at his head. He replied with a low sweep of his sword that was met by his attacker’s shield. They swapped more blows and in the confusion Odysseus could hear the man breathing heavily as he manoeuvred for advantage, guessing he was already at the end of his strength. With a grunt, the man swept Odysseus’s sword aside with his half-moon shield and followed by driving his sword at the Ithacan’s throat. It was a skilful attack and might have succeeded, if the arm that delivered it was not already weakened and sluggish. Skipping aside, Odysseus kicked out at his exposed flank and caught the man in the stomach. He cried out in pain and staggered back against the nearest house, the sword falling from his hand. The next instant, Odysseus had him pinned to the wall with the edge of his weapon pressing against the man’s neck.