Authors: Colleen McCullough
The Song of Troy (62 page)
‘And who are you?’ I asked, smiling.
‘Aineas of Dardania.’
‘Well, well! You’re my prisoner, Aineas. I’m Neoptolemos.’
A flash of hope lit his eyes. ‘What, I’m not to be killed?’
‘Why should I want to kill you? You’re my prisoner, nothing more. If your Dardanian people still think highly enough of you to pay the exorbitant ransom I intend to ask, you may yet be a free man. A reward for – er – being nice to us in battle sometimes.’
His face exploded into joy. ‘Then I’ll be King of Troy!’
I laughed. ‘By the time your ransom is found, Aineas, there will be no Troy to rule. We’re going to tear the place apart and send its people into slavery. Shades will walk the plain. I think your most sensible course would be to emigrate.’ I let the axe fall. ‘Get up. Naked and in chains, you’ll walk behind me.’
He snarled but did exactly as he was told, and gave me no trouble whatsoever.
A Myrmidon brought my chariot up through the burning, melting streets. I found some bits of rope, took the two women out of their prison and tethered them fast. Aineas held out his wrists for binding of his own volition. All three tied securely, I told Automedon to drive out of the Citadel gates and back to the Skaian Square. The sack was getting under way – not work for the son of Achilles. Someone hitched Priam’s headless body to the back of the car, as Hektor’s had been; it slid across the cobbles amid the feet of my three living captives. Priam’s head sat atop Old Pelion, his silver hair and beard soaked in blood, his dark eyes wide open, transfixed in grief and ruin, gazing sightless over burning houses and mangled bodies. Little children cried vainly for their mothers, women ran dementedly hunting for their babes or fled from soldiers bent on rape and murder.
There was no holding the army. On this their day of triumph they vented all the spleen of ten years of homelessness and exile, of dead comrades and unfaithful wives, of hatred for every Trojan person and thing; they prowled the smoke-palled alleys like beasts. I saw no sign of Agamemnon. Perhaps some of my hurry in quitting the city stemmed from reluctance to meet him on this day of utter devastation. It was his victory.
Not far from the Citadel, Odysseus emerged from a side lane, waving cheerfully. ‘Going already, Neoptolemos?’
I nodded despondently. ‘Yes, and as fast as I can. Now that my anger’s gone, my belly isn’t strong enough.’
He pointed at the head. ‘I see you found Priam.’
‘Yes.’
‘And who else have we got here?’ He inspected my prisoners, bowing to Aineas with an exaggerated flourish. ‘So you actually took Aineas alive! Now he was one I was sure would make it hard for you.’
I flicked the Dardanian a glance of scorn. ‘He slept like a babe through the whole business. I found him mother-naked on his bed, still snoring.’
Odysseus roared with laughter; Aineas grew stiff with fury, the muscles of his arms bulging as he fought to be free of the ropes. Suddenly I realised that I had chosen the more galling fate for Aineas. He was far too proud to stomach derision. At the moment I woke him, all he could think of was the throne of Troy. Now he was beginning to understand what his captivity would entail – the insults, the gibes, the mirth, the endless retelling of how he was found dead drunk while everyone else was fighting.
I untied old Hekabe and jerked her forward. Howling. Then I put the end of her tether in Odysseus’s hand.
‘A special gift for you. You know she’s Hekabe, of course. Take her and give her to Penelope as a serving woman. She’ll add considerable lustre to your rocky isle.’
He blinked, astonished. ‘There’s no need, Neoptolemos.’
‘I want you to have her, Odysseus. If I tried to keep her for myself, Agamemnon would have her off me for himself. But he won’t dare demand her of you. Let some other house than Atreus’s display a high-ranking prize out of Troy.’
‘What of the young one? You know she’s Andromache?’
‘Yes, but she’s mine by right.’ I bent to whisper in his ear. ‘She wanted to go to her son, but I knew that wasn’t possible. What’s happened to Hektor’s son?’
For a moment I saw a coldness. ‘Astyanax is dead. He couldn’t be allowed to live. I found him myself, and threw him from the Citadel tower. Sons, grandsons, great-grandsons – all must die.’
I changed the subject. ‘Did you find Helen?’
His chilliness vanished in a huge guffaw. ‘Indeed we did!’
‘How did she die?’
‘Helen, dead?
Helen?
Laddie, she was born to live to a ripe old age and die sedately in her bed with her children and servants weeping. Can you see Menelaos killing Helen? Or letting Agamemnon order it? Gods, he loves her better by far than he does himself!’
He calmed down, though he still chortled. ‘We found her in her apartments surrounded by a small guard of men, with Deiphobos prepared to kill the first Greek he saw. Menelaos was like a maddened bull! He took the Trojans on single-handedly and made light of it. Diomedes and I were mere spectators. At length he did for them all except Deiphobos, and they squared up to duel. Helen was standing to one side, head back, chest out, and eyes like green suns. As beautiful as Aphrodite! Neoptolemos, I tell you that there will never be a woman in all the world to hold a lamp to her! Menelaos got ready, but there was no duel. Helen got in first, skewered Deiphobos with a dagger between his shoulder blades. Then she fell on her knees. Chest out.
‘“Kill me, Menelaos! Kill me!” she cried. “I don’t deserve to live! Kill me now!”
‘Of course he didn’t. He took one look at her breasts and that was the end of it. They walked out of the room together without one glance in our direction.’
I had to laugh too. ‘Oh, the irony! To think you fought a group of nations for ten whole years to see Helen die, only to see her go home to Amyklai a free woman – and still Queen.’
‘Well, death is rarely where one expects,’ said Odysseus. His shoulders sagged, and I saw for the first time that he was a man nearing forty, that he felt his age and his exile, that for all his love of intrigue he wanted nothing more than to be at home again. He saluted me and walked away leading the howling Hekabe, then disappeared into an alley. I nodded to Automedon and we went onwards to the Skaian Gate.
The team plodded slowly down the road which led back to the beach, Aineas and Andromache walking behind, Priam’s corpse bouncing along between them. Inside the camp I bypassed the Myrmidon compound, forded Skamander and took the path to the tombs.
When the horses could go no further I untied Priam from the bar, twisted my left hand in the body’s robe and dragged it thus to the door of my father’s burial place. I propped Priam in the pose of a suppliant, kneeling over, and drove the butt of Old Pelion into the ground, piling stones about its base to make a little cairn. Then I turned back to see Troy on the plain, its houses spouting flames into the sombre sky, its gate gaping open like the mouth of a corpse after the shade has fled into the dark wastes below the earth. And then, at last, I wept for Achilles.
I tried to envision him as he was at Troy, but there was too much blood; a haze of death. In the end I could remember him but one way only, his skin shining oil from the bath, his yellow eyes glowing because he looked on me, his little son.
Not caring who saw me weep, I walked back to the chariot and climbed in beside Automedon.
‘Back to the ships, friend of my father. We go home,’ I said.
‘Home!’ he echoed on a sigh, faithful Automedon who had sailed from Aulis with Achilles. ‘Home!’
Troy was behind us burning, but our eyes saw nothing save the dancing sparks of the sun on the wine-dark sea, beckoning us home.
The Fates of Some Survivors
Agamemnon
returned safely to Mykenai, completely unaware that his wife, Klytemnestra, had usurped the throne and married Aigisthos. After welcoming Agamemnon graciously, she persuaded him to have a bath. While he splashed happily, she took the sacred Axe and murdered him. Then she murdered his concubine, Kassandra the prophetess. Orestes, the son of Agamemnon and Klytemnestra, was smuggled out of Mykenai by his elder sister, Elektra, who feared Aigisthos would kill the boy. When he grew up Orestes avenged his father by murdering his mother and her lover. But this was a no-win situation; the Gods demanded vengeance for his father, yet condemned Orestes for matricide. He went mad.
In the Latin tradition
Aineas
is said to have fled the burning Troy with his aged father, Anchises, perched on his shoulder, and the Palladion of Athene tucked under his arm. He took ship and wound up in Carthage, North Africa, where the Queen, Dido, became hopelessly enamoured of him. When he sailed away she committed suicide. Aineas then came ashore for good on the Latin plain of central Italy, fought a war, and settled there. His son Iulus, by the Latin princess Lavinia, became King of Alba Longa and the ancestor of Julius Caesar. However, the Greek tradition denies all of this. It says that Aineas was taken as a prize by the son of Achilles, Neoptolemos, who ransomed him to the Dardanians; he then settled in Thrace.
Andromache,
the widow of Hektor, fell as a prize to Neoptolemos. She was either his wife or his concubine until he died, and bore him at least two sons.
Antenor,
together with his wife, the priestess Theano, and their children, was allowed to go free after Troy fell. They settled in Thrace – or so some say, in Cyrenaica, North Africa.
Askanios,
the son of Aineas by the Trojan princess Kreusa, stayed in Asia Minor after his father left to go with Neoptolemos. He eventually succeeded to the throne of a very much reduced Troy.
Diomedes
was blown off course and wrecked on the coast of Lykia in Asia Minor, but survived. Eventually he reached Argos, only to find that his wife had committed adultery and usurped his throne with her lover. Diomedes was defeated and banished to Korinthos, then fought a war in Aitolia. But he couldn’t seem to settle down. His last home was in the town of Luceria, in Apulia, Italy.
Hekabe
accompanied Odysseus, whose prize she was, to the Thracian Chersonnese, where her perpetual howling terrified him so much that he abandoned her by the seashore. Pitying her, the Gods changed her into a black bitch dog.
Helen
participated in all Menelaos’s adventures.
Idomeneus
had the same problem as Agamemnon and Diomedes. His wife usurped the throne of Crete and shared it with her lover, who drove Idomeneus out. He then settled in Calabria, Italy.
Kassandra
the prophetess had spurned Apollo’s advances in her youth. In retaliation, he cursed her: always to prophesy the truth, never to be believed. She was first awarded as a prize to Little Ajax, but was taken off him after Odysseus swore that he had raped her on Athene’s altar. Agamemnon claimed her for himself, and took her to Mykenai with him. Though she kept insisting only death awaited them there, Agamemnon took no notice. Apollo’s curse was still working: she was murdered by Klytemnestra.
Little Ajax
was wrecked on a reef while returning to Greece, and was drowned.
Menelaos
is said to have been blown off course on his return voyage. He wound up in Egypt, where (with Helen) he visited many lands, remaining in the area for eight years. When finally he arrived back in Lakedaimon, it was on the same day that Orestes murdered Klytemnestra. Menelaos and Helen ruled in Lakedaimon, and laid the foundations of the future state of Sparta.
Menestheus
didn’t return to Athens. On his way home he accepted the isle of Melos as his new kingdom, and reigned there instead.
Neoptolemos
succeeded to the throne of Peleus in Iolkos, but after strife with the sons of Askastos he quit Thessalia to live at Dodona, in Epiros. Later he was killed while looting the sanctuary of the Pythoness at Delphi.
Nestor
got back to Pylos quickly and safely. He spent the rest of his very long life ruling Pylos in peace and prosperity.
As his house oracle had foretold
, Odysseus
was doomed not to see Ithaka for twenty years. After he left Troy he wandered up and down the Mediterranean and had many adventures with sirens, witches and monsters. When he did reach Ithaka he found his palace filled with Penelope’s suitors, anxious to usurp his throne by marrying the Queen. But she had managed to stave off this fate by insisting that she couldn’t remarry until she had finished weaving her own shroud. Every night she unravelled what she had woven the previous day. Assisted by his son, Telemachos, Odysseus killed the suitors. Afterwards he lived happily with Penelope.
Philoktetes
was driven out of his kingdom of Hestaiotis and chose to emigrate to the city of Croton, in Lucanian Italy. He took the bow and arrows belonging to Herakles with him.
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