Helenos wore the long, flowing robes of the Religious. With his dreamy expression allied to so much beauty he was sufficiently arresting to hold my attention as he sat surveying the city from my window. He liked me better than he did any of his other brothers – be they by Hekabe, by another wife, or by a concubine – because I had no taste for war and killing. Though his stern ascetic nature could not condone my philandering, he found my conversation much to his liking, more pacific than martial.

‘I have a message for you,’ he said without turning.

I sighed. ‘What have I done now?’

‘Nothing deserving censure. I was merely told to bid you to come to a meeting tonight after supper.’

‘I can’t. I have a prior engagement.’

‘You had better break it. The message comes from Father.’

‘Bother! Why me?’

‘I have no idea. It’s a very small group. Just a few of the imperial sons, plus Antenor and Kalchas.’

‘An odd assortment. I wonder what’s the matter?’

‘Go, and you’ll find out.’

‘Oh, I will, I will! Are you invited?’

Helenos did not answer. His face had twisted, his eyes taken on the peculiar inward gaze of the mystic. Having seen this visionary trance before, I recognised it for what it was, and stared in fascination. Suddenly he shuddered, looked normal again.

‘What did you see?’ I asked.

‘I could not see,’ he said slowly, wiping sweat from his brow. ‘A pattern, I sensed a pattern… The beginning of a twisting and turning that will go to an inevitable end.’

‘You must have seen something, Helenos!’

‘Flames… Greeks in armour… A woman so beautiful she must be Aphrodite… Ships – hundreds and hundreds of ships… You, Father, Hektor…’

‘Me? But I’m not important!’

‘Believe me, Paris, you are important,’ he said in a tired voice, then got up abruptly. ‘I must find Kassandra. Quite often we see the same things, even when we are not together.’

But I too felt a little of that dark, webbed Presence, and shook my head. ‘No. Kassandra will destroy it.’

Helenos was correct in that the group was very small. I was the last to arrive, took a place on the end of the bench whereon sat my brothers Troilos and Ilios – why them? Troilos was eight years old, Ilios only seven. They were my mother’s last two children, both named for the shadow man who had taken the throne from King Dardanos. Hektor was there. So too was our eldest brother of all, Deiphobos. By rights Deiphobos ought to have been named the Heir, but everyone who knew him – including Father – understood that within a year of ascending the throne he would bring everything down. Greedy, thoughtless, passionate, selfish, intemperate – those words were used of Deiphobos. How he hated us! Especially Hektor, who had usurped his rightful place – or so he saw it.

The inclusion of Uncle Antenor was logical. As Chancellor he attended every meeting of any sort. But why Kalchas? A very disturbing man.

Uncle Antenor was glaring at me, and not because I arrived last. Two summers ago on Ida I had loosed an arrow at a target pinned to a tree just as a wind boiled up out of nowhere; it deflected my dart far off to one side. I found it lodged in the back of Uncle Antenor’s youngest son by his most beloved concubine; the poor lad had been hiding to spy on a shepherdess bathing naked in a spring. He was dead, and I guilty of involuntary murder. Not a crime in the true sense, but still a death which had to be expiated. The only way I could do that was to journey abroad and find a foreign king willing to undertake the ceremonies of purification. Uncle Antenor had not been able to demand vengeance, but he had not forgiven me. Which reminded me that I still had not taken that journey abroad to find that foreign king. Kings were the only priests qualified to conduct the rites of purification from accidental murder.

Father rapped the floor with the butt of his ivory sceptre, its round head flashing green because it contained a huge and perfect emerald. ‘I have called this meeting to discuss something which has gnawed at me for many years,’ he said in his firm, strong voice. ‘What brought it to the forefront of my mind was the realisation that my son Paris was born on the very day it happened, thirty-three years ago. A day of death and deprivation. My father Laomedon was murdered. So too were my four brothers. My sister Hesione was abducted, raped. Only the birth of Paris saved it from being the darkest day of my life.’

‘Father, why us?’ Hektor asked gently. Of late, I had noticed, he had take it upon himself to bring our sire back to the subject when his mind wandered; it was beginning to display a tendency to do that.

‘Oh, didn’t I tell you? You because you are the Heir, Hektor. Deiphobos because he is my oldest imperial son. Helenos because he will hold the Oracles of Troy. Kalchas because he caretakes the Oracles until Helenos comes of age. Troilos and Ilios because Kalchas says there are prophecies about them. Antenor because he was there that day. And Paris because he was born on it.’

‘Why are we here?’ Hektor asked then.

‘I intend to send a formal embassage to Telamon in Salamis as soon as the seas are safe,’ Father said, it seemed to me with proper logic, though Hektor frowned as if the answer troubled him. ‘That embassage will request that Telamon return my sister to Troy.’

A silence fell. Antenor went to stand between my bench and the other, then turned to my father on the throne. Poor man, he was bent almost double from a painful disease of the joints he had suffered time out of memory; everyone thought that its ravages were the reasons for his notoriously short temper. ‘Sire, this is a silly venture,’ he said flatly. ‘Why spend Troy’s gold on it? You know as well as I do that in all the thirty-three years of her exile, Hesione has never once indicated that she mourns her fate. Her son, Teukros, may be a bastard, but he stands very high in the Salaminian Court and acts as friend and mentor to the Salaminian Heir, Ajax. You will get no for an answer, Priam, so why go to the trouble?’

The King jumped to his feet, furious. ‘Are you accusing me of stupidity, Antenor? It’s news to me that Hesione is content in her exile! No, it’s Telamon prevents her asking us for help!’

Antenor shook his gnarled fist. ‘I have the floor, sire! I insist on the right of speech! Why do you go on thinking it was us wronged all those years ago? It was Herakles who was wronged, and in your heart you know it. I would also remind you that if Herakles had not slain the lion, Hesione would be dead.’

My father was trembling from head to foot. There was little love lost between him and Antenor, though they were brothers-in-law. Antenor remained a spiritual Dardanian, the enemy within.

‘If you and I were young men,’ my father said, biting off his words, ‘there would be some point to our continuous warring. We could take up shields and swords and make an end. But you are a cripple and I am too old. I repeat: I am sending an embassage to Salamis as soon as I can. Is that understood?’

Antenor sniffed. ‘You are the King, sire, the decision is yours. As for duels – you may like to call yourself too old, but how dare you assume that I am too crippled to make mincemeat of you? Nothing would give me greater pleasure!’

He walked out on the echo of his words; my father resumed his seat, chewing his beard.

I stood up, surprised that I did, but even more surprised by what I proceeded to say. ‘Sire, I will volunteer to lead your embassage. I have to go abroad to seek purification for the death of Uncle Antenor’s son anyway.’

Hektor laughed, clapped. ‘Paris, I salute you!’

But Deiphobos scowled. ‘Why not me, sire? It ought to be me! I am the eldest.’

Helenos entered the fray in Deiphobos’s favour; I could hardly believe my ears, knowing how much Helenos detested our oldest brother.