‘We must move quickly, sire,’ said Palamedes quietly.

‘Why?’

‘Troy is a curious place, dominated by wise men and fools in equal number. Both can be dangerous. Priam is a mixture of wise man and fool. Among his counsellors I gained the most respect for Antenor and a youth named Polydamas. The son Menelaos just mentioned, Deiphobos, is a hotheaded pig. However, he isn’t the Heir. He seems to hold no position of importance other than that he’s one of the imperial sons – Priam’s by his Queen, Hekabe.’

‘As eldest he ought to be the Heir, surely.’

‘Priam has been a regular old goat in his day. He boasts the incredible number of fifty sons – by his Queen, his other wives, and many concubines. Of daughters I understand the tally is over a hundred – he throws more girls than boys, he told me. I asked why he hadn’t exposed some of the girls. He giggled and said that the beautiful ones made good wives for his allies, while the ugly ones wove enough cloth to keep the palace looking gorgeous.’

‘Tell me about the palace.’

‘It’s huge, sire. As big, I’d say, as the old House of Minos at Knossos. Each of Priam’s married children has a separate suite of rooms, and they live in luxury. There are other palaces within the Citadel. Antenor has one. So does the Heir.’

‘Who is the Heir? I remember Menelaos mentioned the name of Hektor, but naturally I assumed he’s the eldest.’

‘Hektor is a younger son by Queen Hekabe. He was there when we first arrived, but left almost at once on some urgent mission to Phrygia. I might add that he begged to be relieved of the duty, but Priam insisted he go. As he leads their army, at the moment it lacks its commander-in-chief. Which leads me to assume that Hektor is a wiser man than his father. He’s young – no more than twenty-five, I’d guess. A very big man. About the size of Achilles, in fact.’

I turned then to Odysseus, who was stroking his face slowly. ‘And what of you, Odysseus?’

‘On the subject of Hektor, I’d add that the soldiers and the common people adore him.’

‘I see. So you didn’t confine your activities to the palace.’

‘No, Palamedes did that. I prowled the city. A very useful and instructive exercise. Troy, sire, is a nation within walls. Two sets of walls. Those around the Citadel are imposing enough – higher than the walls around Mykenai or Tiryns. But the outer set which surrounds the entire city is mammoth. Troy is a city in the true meaning of that word, Agamemnon. It’s built entirely within the outer set of walls, not scattered outside the walls as our cities are. The people don’t need to flee inside when an enemy threatens because they already live inside. There are many narrow streets and countless, towering houses they call apartment buildings, each of which accommodates several dozen families.’

‘Antenor told me,’ Palamedes interrupted, ‘that at the last census one hundred and seventy thousand citizens declared their presence. I would judge from that fact that Priam could raise an army of forty thousand good men without looking any further than the city itself – fifty thousand if he used older men as well.’

Thinking of my own eighty thousand troops, I smiled. ‘Not enough to keep us out,’ I said.

‘More than enough,’ Odysseus said. ‘The city measures some leagues in circumference, though it’s more oblong than round. The outer ramparts are fantastic. I measured one stone from my fist knuckles to my elbow, then counted the rows. The walls are thirty cubits high and at least twenty cubits thick at their base. They’re so old that no one remembers when they were built, or why. Legend has it that they’re cursed and must disappear from sight for ever, thanks to Priam’s father, Laomedon. But I doubt they’ll disappear from sight thanks to our assaulting them. They slope gently and the stones have been polished. No secure grip for ladder or grapple.’

Conscious of a niggling depression, I cleared my throat. ‘Is there no weakness, Odysseus? No lesser wall? Or the gates?’

‘Yes, there is a weakness – though I wouldn’t count on it, sire. A section of the original walls collapsed on the western side during what I would judge was the same earthquake that finished Crete. Aiakos repaired the breach, which the Trojans now call the Western Curtain. It’s about five hundred paces in length, and rough hewn. Plenty of ledges and crannies for grapples. There are only three gates: one close by the Western Curtain, called the Skaian; one on the south side, called the Dardanian; and one on the northeast, called the Idan. The only other entrances are easily guarded drains and conduits which permit the passage of no more than one man at a time. The gates themselves are massive. Twenty cubits tall, arched over by the pathway which runs right around the top of the outer walls, enabling rapid transfer of troops from one section to another. The gates are built of logs reinforced with bronze plates and spikes. No ram would so much as make them shudder. Unless those gates are open, Agamemnon, you’ll need a miracle to enter Troy.’

Well, Odysseus was always pessimistic. ‘I can’t see their holding out against a force as large as ours, I just can’t.’

Palamedes studied the contents of his wine cup and said not one word; Nestor was of like mind. Odysseus continued.

‘Agamemnon,’ he said earnestly, ‘If the gates of Troy are closed, they have more than enough men to hold you off. You must attempt to scale at one place only, the Western Curtain. But it’s only five hundred paces long. Forty thousand men would smother it like flies a lump of carrion. Believe me, they can keep you out for years! Everything hinges on whether they really believed that we’re still at home in Greece. But let them sail a fishing boat to this side of Tenedos and we’re undone. I think you have to plan for a long campaign.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘You could, of course, starve them out.’

Nestor gasped in outrage. ‘Odysseus, Odysseus! There you go again! We’d be cursed to instant madness!’

He wriggled his red brows, unrepentant as ever. ‘I know, Nestor. But as far as I can see, all the rules of war seem to favour the enemy. Which is a great pity. Starvation makes sense.’

Suddenly tired, I rose to my feet. ‘Woe the race of men when your like has command, Odysseus. Go to bed. In the morning I’ll call a general council. The following day we’ll sail at dawn.’

As they went out, Odysseus turned. ‘How is Philoktetes?’

‘Machaon says there is no hope for him.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that. What’s to be done with him?’

‘What can be done? He’ll have to stay here. It would be the height of folly to take him into a battle camp.’

‘I agree he can’t come with us, sire, but nor can we leave him here. Once we turn our backs on these Tenedians they’ll slit his windpipe. Send him to Lesbos. The Lesbians are more cultured people, they’ll not harm a sick man.’

‘He’d never survive the voyage,’ Nestor protested.

‘It’s still the least of the various evils.’

‘You’re right, Odysseus,’ I said. ‘Lesbos it is.’

‘My thanks. He’s a man worth saving if at all possible.’ Odysseus looked suddenly brisk. ‘I’ll tell him now.’

‘He wouldn’t understand you. He’s been in a coma for three days,’ I said.

13

NARRATED BY

Achilles

Kalchas made another prophecy, one which caused Agamemnon to change his mind about being the first of the Kings to set foot on Trojan soil; the first of the Kings to do that, said the priest, would die in the initial battle. I glanced at Patrokles and shrugged. If the Gods had chosen me as the doomed man, why should I worry? There was glory in it.

We had our sailing and landing orders, we knew when we would sweep onto the shore and beach our men. Patrokles and I stood on the foredeck of my flagship watching the vessels ahead of us, far fewer than those behind us, for we of Iolkos were among the first. Agamemnon’s flagship led the way with his huge Mykenaian convoy on his left and the ships of one of my father’s subject Kings, Iolaos of Phylake, on his right. I came next, after me Ajax and all the rest.