The Oath

33

Before sunset on the tenth day, Epeius appeared in front of my tent and gestured for me to follow him. I had been careful until then not to show too much interest in the work in progress, so no one could attribute the building of the colossal horse to me and thus suspect a trick. The Trojans had also been watching closely, albeit from afar. We could see them crowding the tops of the walls, swelling in number as the figure took shape. The dimensions of the horse were growing day by day, as scaffolding made of ash poles and boards sawn from poplars was added to support its bulk. It had to look like we were racing against time. And the onset of bad weather.

It was late in the autumn by then and Orion had already started to decline in the night sky. The air was already getting cooler and more humid.

During the entire time that the works were proceeding, we never went out in battle order and the Trojans did not challenge us. They never came out of the city armed, although we noticed them creeping close at times to get a better look at what was going on. They were careful to stay beyond the reach of our archers, although our men had been instructed not to strike out in any way. In the meantime, Epeius had, as I had predicted, let slip that we would be returning to Achaia for the winter and a certain air of joy had spread through the camp, subtle and secret, as though no one dared to believe it.

Halfway through the job I had told Epeius that an offering for Poseidon, a hidden tribute, would be placed inside the horse and that I would be giving him details just before the work was completed. The opening in the horse’s belly would be prepared by him alone; he would have to work at night with no help from his men. One day, I mixed in with the crowd and made my way as far as the scaffolding that still covered the construction. After checking to make sure I was alone, I slipped underneath. There was no clue to any opening, no interruption in the intertwined beams, boards, branches and ropes which held it together. The horse’s secret was invisible and undetectable. A perfect job.

I looked into Epeius’ eyes without saying a word. A slight nod of my head was enough for him to understand that I approved. He responded in the same way.

During the entire time that the horse was being built, not one of the kings or princes came to visit me, except for Eumelus.

‘You’ve always liked horses,’ he observed, ‘but you are the only one of the kings who doesn’t have a war chariot. Why is that?’

‘There are no roads in Ithaca, you know that; only the trails that the goats use. Our chariots are our ships: on the sea we’re the best.’

‘In such a short time,’ he went on, ‘a horse so small that it fits inside my hand has generated an enormous one that could contain many men. Am I right, Odysseus?’

I didn’t answer.

‘So I am right. You have to include me then, because I’m the only one who has understood what you are thinking.’

‘No. I want you to get back safe and sound to your parents in Pherai. You’ll enter the city with the others when it comes time to attack. Until that moment, speak with no one, not even the air. A god who is hostile to us might hear you.’

‘He couldn’t hear us here?’

‘Here, in my tent, there’s a constant noise that human ears cannot hear, that covers our voices and even our thoughts.’

‘When?’

‘The day after tomorrow. On the night of the new moon.’

He nodded and returned to his tent, walking along the seashore. Before leaving he opened his hand, smiled, and showed me the little horse I’d given him as a boy.

That same night I had Agamemnon convene a very unusual council of the kings. One by one they were to come to my tent, unescorted, without arms, armour or insignia, with their heads covered and wrapped in a cloak up to their eyes. Some before sunset, others after, the rest in the middle of the night. I was dubious up to the last moment as to whether I should include Pyrrhus; after much thought, I decided that he, too, should be summoned to my tent.

When everyone had arrived, Agamemnon spoke, admitting that the rumours about our returning to Achaia for the winter in order to recruit new warriors had been spread deliberately. The truth was entirely different, and I would be the one to reveal it to them. He then nodded to me.

‘Friends, courageous comrades, for years and years Zeus has held his hand over the city of Troy so that it would not fall, despite the strength, prowess and sacrifice of great heroes like Patroclus, Achilles, Ajax son of Telamon and many, many others who now lie under the soil of this land. The city still does not seem on the verge of falling, even now. Every attempt we make is frustrated and not even the valour of the son of Achilles has been enough to breach the Skaian Gate. The time has come to put an end to this endless war before it destroys us. The only way is to conquer Troy. And that is just what we’ll do. .

‘Now!’

My listeners, except for Agamemnon and Nestor, looked at each other in disbelief. Some of them uttered cutting comments, others laughed in scorn.

‘Tomorrow, as soon as evening falls, our entire fleet will put to sea. Our ships will move away from the coast and then, under cover of darkness, will drop anchor behind the nearby island of Tenedos and remain there, hidden. As the ships go out, I will stay here, in this tent, along with those whose names I will now call. .

‘Menelaus Atreides, for you this war has been fought, for you the moment so long awaited has come: you will win Troy and avenge your honour! Ajax of Locris, bronze lightning bolt, you who are the swiftest after Achilles: you will be the first to reach the highest point of the city. Diomedes of Argus, it is said that in battle you wounded Ares himself, the god of war, and I believe that, for no one can better you in hurling your mighty, massive spear, always thirsting for blood, straight at your target. Idomeneus, powerful sovereign of Crete, lord of the labyrinth, you will not lose your way even if the roads of Troy are dark and winding; you will emerge victorious and set the city ablaze. Eurymachus, your sight is as penetrating as a nocturnal predator’s, and I’ve never seen you tremble: your eyes will rend the darkness for all of us. Makahon, pupil of Asclepius, warrior surgeon, you who know so well how to restore life will inflict death! Menestheus of Athens, lord of the city which belonged to Theseus, you will show us that you are worthy of sitting on his throne. Merion. . Sthenelus. .’

As I called out their names, I looked intensely at their faces: they were tense, drawn, some of them seemed daunted; they had no idea yet of what they were being called upon to do. ‘. . Thoas of Calydon, you were Achilles’ best ally; Podalirius, inseparable companion of Makahon, we’ll sorely need your arts. . Teucer! With you the spirit of Great Ajax, your brother, will surely be present to win this war with us. Neoptolemus, known as Pyrrhus, son of Achilles: the fire that will devour the city will be redder than your flaming locks! You will attain what your father would have achieved had not a god stood in his way, for nothing less than a god could have stopped Achilles.

‘All of you will enter Troy with me, inside the horse. The horse will be transported into the city by the Trojans themselves; I can assure you that this will happen. When the horse is in place, one of our men will signal from the shore to our comrades on Tenedos. The fleet will head back again, without masts or sails, moving solely by the force of their oars. Invisible, our ships will return to Troy. We will wait for the middle of the night, when the city has finished celebrating the end of the war, and is enveloped in silence and darkness. Only then will we leave the horse, and take control of the Skaian Gate. We’ll signal from high up on the towers and we will open from the inside the doors that we’ve never been able to force from the outside. Our men will rush in and take the city by storm. And that will be the end of Troy.

‘I will have complete command over the entire operation. We will take Epeius, the builder of the horse, with us. Only he knows how to unlatch the belly of the monster. He is still unaware of this plan, but he will soon be informed. I’ve chosen you because you are the best. Your names will be remembered for centuries to come. .

‘Who is with me, then? If you are ready to join me, stand up now!’

Pyrrhus was the first to speak, with his usual arrogance. ‘You’re talking to us as if we were about to accomplish some glorious feat, and instead it is with deceit that you propose we take the city. We’ll enter Troy in hiding, closed up in the dark like rats, and surprise the Trojans in their sleep. Is this the glory you offer us?’

‘Yes, it is,’ I replied. ‘A man is not made only of muscles and tendons. A man’s mind is his highest, most noble part: it is what makes us similar to the gods. And it is our most powerful weapon. You’ve been given the chance to conquer the city by fighting on the open field, Pyrrhus: it doesn’t appear to me that you’ve succeeded. I may not have the brawn of Great Ajax and I certainly don’t have the vigour of your years and the force of Achilles that lives on in your limbs.

‘You know what they call me: I’m Odysseus of the labyrinthine mind. This is my greatest strength: where your father’s arm failed my mind will succeed! But you are free to make a choice. You can enter Troy with me using this trick, because I need the best of you, and no cowards. Or you can stay with wanax Agamemnon, or even here in your own tent.’

A moment laden with uncertainty followed, until, one after another, all of those summoned got to their feet and agreed to submit to my command with immediate effect, until the moment in which the great Atreides, wanax Agamemnon himself, would stride across the crooked Skaian Gate.

We didn’t meet again until dusk of the next evening. From outside we could hear the shouts of the warriors who were pushing the ships off the beach, one after another, until they filled up the whole bay. They put to sea, wrapped in darkness.

At that point Sinon, with his hands bound behind his back, bruises covering his face and body, was already in the hiding place where the Trojans would find him the next day. We left my tent to find Epeius, who, finally informed of the true plan, was waiting for us. The hatch in the horse’s belly was open, and a rope ladder was hanging from one side of the opening. One by one we climbed in, me first and then all the others. Epeius got in with us and closed the hatch, pulling up the ladder after himself. The lamp he carried created a small globe of flickering light that allowed us to exist. I took it from Epeius’ hands and inspected my men. Pyrrhus was with us: I counted him first, then all the others. For each one of them I had a word, a touch on the shoulder, a look. Then, all at once, as I got to the end, I swiftly drew my sword and put it to the throat of a man whose face was covered — he was not one of the men I had summoned. I challenged him: ‘Who are you, friend? Speak up or prepare to die!’

He lowered his hood and smiled.

‘Eumelus!’

‘I held out for two years in Eurystheus’ palace, you don’t think I can spend a night in here? You can’t imagine that I’m afraid of the dark.’

Epeius spoke up: ‘I can’t open the hatch up and then close it again; it might become damaged in a visible way.’

I had to surrender. I sighed: ‘And your horses? Who will care for them?’ I asked Eumelus.

‘They’re hidden in a safe place. I’ll see them again soon.’

We spent the first part of the night speaking in whispers. About the expedition, about friendly and hostile gods, about our fears, about the friends we’d lost and those remaining.

‘What if they realize we’re in here? What will we do then?’ asked Thoas.

‘I’ll think about that when it happens,’ I said. ‘But I don’t think it will.’

‘If we succeed,’ asked Diomedes, ‘what will we do? Who will we spare and who will we kill? Who will be sold as a slave or liberated? Who will decide how to distribute the spoils?’

I did not answer and a long silence ensued. Each of us remained alone with his own thoughts until the dawn.

The light of morning filtered through the gaps between one board and another and striped our faces black and grey. We were tense and restless. Some of us had fallen asleep during the night, in particular Pyrrhus — boys are such heavy sleepers.

‘Listen!’ hissed Ajax Oileus. ‘There’s someone out there.’

‘This is it!’ I answered. ‘From this moment on, silent and completely still. One mistake and we’re all dead.’

We could hear people running, scampering, all around us. Shouts, and then cries of joy. ‘They’ve gone! We’ve won! We’ve won!’ And then again: ‘The king! King Priam is on his way here!’

Epeius caught my eye and gestured towards several slits in the wall that were wide enough to see out of. They were invisible from the outside because they were too high from the ground and embedded in the horse’s rough outer surface. I could see a stream of people pouring out of the Skaian Gate and from the other gate in the lower part of the city: men, women, the old and the young as well, children who had known nothing but war. They were looking around them as if they couldn’t believe their eyes. They examined the deep furrows left by the ships’ keels as they had been pushed into the water, the traces of the hastily disassembled tents, the hearths where so many years of blazing fires had blackened and hardened the ground until it seemed made of stone. And the forges where our swords and the cruel heads of bitter darts and spears had been fashioned. Many of them were weeping with joy and my heart shuddered, because I was plotting the last night of their life on earth, their last day of freedom.

Then the crowd parted and Priam’s chariot passed. I hadn’t seen him since that time so long before when I’d gone with Menelaus to Troy to ask him to return Helen. He looked haggard: a wrinkle as deep as a wound crossed his forehead and his cheeks were gaunt. How many sons, born of wife or concubines, had he lost on the battlefield? But among those sons, and above all the rest, it was the loss of his greatly beloved Hector, bulwark of his kingdom and his city, that had broken his heart.

He got out of the chariot and walked all the way under the horse’s belly. I moved to the centre, at the cavity’s lowest point, without making the slightest noise. I could see his white hair, the amber brooch pinned to his left shoulder. It felt like I would be able to touch him if I held out my hand.

Then, a confused murmur of voices started to sound all around, a question, floating in the air: ‘What is that?’ No one answered. I was trembling. If Sinon wasn’t found, our adventure would end up in the most humiliating and ignominious way. A shout: ‘One of the enemy! They’ve captured him!’

The buzz of voices became much louder.

‘Sinon,’ I whispered to my comrades. ‘They found him.’ Another step towards completing my plan.

I could finally see him myself. Bound, his clothes in tatters, his hair tangled, clots of blood on his left arm. He threw himself at the king’s feet, imploring his mercy. I couldn’t hear his words but I could see the expressions on their faces, the gestures of his king and the attitude of his men, which were all just as I had expected. I was heartened and I nodded to my men so they would be encouraged as well. They were accustomed to moving freely on an open field and facing off against the enemy, and this had to be a deeply uneasy moment for them: they were impotent prisoners, surrounded by a great crowd of people, including many armed men.

The wind changed direction and I could hear Priam’s and Sinon’s voices. ‘Why did they make it of such enormous dimensions?’ the king was asking.

‘So it cannot be taken up to the citadel. It is written that, if that were to happen, one day all of Asia would rise up in vengeance over these many years of slaughter and their vast armies would tear down the walls of Mycenae and Argus.’

A sudden shout that all of us heard distinctly: ‘Burn it! That’s no votive gift; it’s certainly a threat. Anything that comes from our enemies is a danger to us and must be destroyed!’ The head of a spear suddenly came up through the horse’s belly, penetrating a full hand’s width into our midst. The loud thud of impact and the prolonged vibration of the shaft invaded our dark cavern.

Thoas grabbed hold of the bolt on the hatch, growling: ‘I don’t want to die in this damned trap!’

Menelaus and I stopped him and held him still until he had calmed down. I moved back to my observation point: there was complete silence outside and everyone seemed to be looking straight up at me. . then I heard Priam say: ‘If this is a gift to Poseidon, only a god can tell us what we must do. Laocoön, you will immolate a sacrifice on the sea to the blue god who built our city. He will surely give us a response.’

So the man who had thrust his spear into the horse was a priest. A bull was dragged into the sea and this Laocoön, assisted by two adolescents, his sons I suppose, lowered an axe onto the neck of the animal, which was felled on the first stroke. A wide pool of blood formed on the surface of the sea. From my high vantage point, I could see the blue waters being stained vermilion red. Then, all at once, the surface of the sea started to boil. Two tails sprang out of the water and high fins slashed through the waves. In an instant, the priest and the two boys were dragged down under the water and devoured, their blood mixing with that of the sacrificed bull.

As a sailor, I’ve always known that blood can attract predators from the depths. But given those circumstances, the response had to be read as favourable to us: the blue god was obviously not pleased that a votive gift meant to win his protection be profaned by the thrust of a spear, or threatened with destruction by fire. He had sent two of his creatures from the abyss to punish the priest’s sacrilege.

Priam gave orders that the horse be towed all the way up to the citadel, so due honours could be paid to the votive offering, which would be dedicated, in a solemn ceremony, to Poseidon. It was necessary to demolish the lintel at the top of the lower gate, in order to let the horse pass through.

My comrades regarded me with an admiration that I’d never seen in their eyes before. Everything I had predicted was coming true. Eumelus approached me and said in a whisper: ‘Do you still think I should have stayed with my horses?’

‘It’s not over yet, Eumelus. You’re already thinking of the moment of victory and glory. The triumphant cry of war and Troy in flames. But the worst is yet to come. I can promise you, if everything does go according to my plan, what you will see and do tonight will leave a deep wound in your heart, an unhealable wound, because every time that you kill — defenceless people fleeing from you or adversaries that are already scattered, defeated, humiliated — a part of you will die as well.’

I don’t know whether Eumelus understood what I was trying to tell him and I was never able to ask him what he felt. I lost sight of him that terrible night and I never saw him again.

As we were being pulled into the city, we could hear the cries of exultation outside, sounds of feasting and celebration, rivers of wine being poured. We were cramped inside, the muscles in our limbs painfully contracted, our stomachs knotted with anxiety. Only one last act stood between us and completion of the endeavour, and yet so many dangers still lay in wait. Even if the gods had turned their gaze from the city, they emanated a dreadful energy that I could feel all around us.

When silence finally fell over the city and the revellers had all moved on, I heard a light step outside, near the horse. I asked the others in a whisper: ‘Did you hear that?’

‘Yes, a footstep,’ replied Diomedes.

‘A footstep,’ confirmed Menelaus.

‘I heard it too, a footstep,’ said Sthenelus.

‘A footstep,’ I murmured to myself. Who could be out there, roaming around so late at night, ready to expose our scheme?

‘It’s me, Penelope!’ said a voice.

‘Penelope? Is that you?’ asked my heart and I held my breath. I couldn’t believe it.

‘Aegialia, my love,’ called out Diomedes, the implacable warrior.

‘Tecmessa!’ exclaimed the cavernous voice of Ajax from the otherworld. Teucer wept to hear it.

‘Arete!’ shouted Sthenelus and he leaned forward to open the hatch, but I stopped him, putting my hand over his mouth so that I was nearly suffocating him.

‘Helen,’ said Menelaus finally. ‘Only Helen.’

She, I thought, she is all women. . In her voice each one of us had recognized that of his bride, his beloved, forever longed for, forever desired. Her footsteps faded away into the distance.