being gleamed with warlike purpose.
This then was the young man entrusted with the leadership of the surprise assault on Tenedos, and his bristling new resolve to prove himself something more than a man among men generated such a degree of impetus that his small band of Myrmidons crashed into the rear of the Trojan defenders with terrifying ferocity. The cliff heights were taken with few losses, a signal was sent to Diomedes telling him to bring his ships ashore, and the raiding party advanced so far ahead of the main force that it was Achilles himself who thrust his spear through the breast of King Tenes, the commander of the island force, and then killed the man’s father with a savage blow to the head.
Thereafter resistance quickly collapsed. Splashed with blood that was none of his own, his bright hair gleaming in the dawn light, Achilles stood among his cheering men, waiting for Diomedes to join him in the citadel. However soon his death might come, he felt certain now that his name at least would never die.
Once the bridgehead on Tenedos was established, Agamemnon decided to send ambassadors to Troy offering terms for the withdrawal of his forces. Menelaus, Odysseus and Palamedes were chosen to present demands which – it was clear to all of them before they set out – Priam must find unacceptable. The true purpose of the mission was to discover just how united the Trojans were behind their outward show of defiance, and with that intention in mind, Agamemnon’s herald Talthybius had arranged for the envoys to be lodged in the house of Antenor while in the city.
They found the king’s chief counsellor cagey and reserved at first, and far from at ease with the knowledge that he was responsible for their safety in a city filled with their enemies. Over a few goblets of wine, however, and at the subtle prompting of Palamedes, it was natural enough for Menelaus and Antenor to share some hard feelings about Paris, the man whom each saw as the destroyer of his happiness. Meanwhile, Odysseus worked his wry charm on Antenor’s wife Theano, who needed little encouragement to express her undying hatred for the man who had killed her child and now threatened ruin on Troy.
For the first time the Argives began to gather a picture of the way events had unfolded in the city since Paris had left Sparta with his prize. They learned that Aeneas had lent his support to Paris during the flight from Sparta only because they were sworn friends committed to each other’s aid, and not because he approved in any way of Paris’s treacherous behaviour. He and his father Anchises had soon made it plain that the High King must not look to Dardania for help when the hosts of Argos came battering at his gates. According to Antenor, Priam had tried to make light of this rift with his cousin, saying that until his son returned, and he had heard the whole story directly from his lips, he would reserve judgement on the matter. Privately, however, the king’s mind was already bent on war. He had known that it must come sooner or later, and was as ready for it as he would ever be. Antenor even remarked on a certain gleefulness in Priam’s usually grave features when he considered the scale of the insult that his son had given to Argive pride.
But Priam had been forced to wait for several months before the Aphrodite returned to Troy, for Paris and Helen had sailed as far east as Cyprus in the hope of eluding all pursuit. Menelaus winced to learn that his wife and her lover had indeed been concealed on the island while he was there, and had sailed southwards into Egypt shortly after his departure. The weather was good at that time and the seas calm, so after making his devotions at the birthplace of Aphrodite, Paris had turned their flight into a prolonged voyage of love. He had calculated that a delay in his return would allow time for his father and brothers to accept what had been done and come to terms with it. Perhaps it might also whet the appetite of the Trojans for the fabled beauty of his abducted lover.
In that last respect, his calculations had certainly hit the mark, for as soon as the Aphrodite was seen approaching the city, a large crowd began to gather along the road from the harbour to the Scaean Gate, while yet others lined the streets. To further heighten the excitement and the air of mystery, Paris arranged for Helen and Aethra to be carried in curtained litters, so that they could pass from the ship to the palace without being exposed to the mob’s coarse stare. They would have heard a few bawdy jeers from the back of the crowd, but they must also have sensed how the rich procession of retainers, slaves, animals and trophies was received for the most part with an exhilarated awe intensified by further expectation. Behind those gauzy curtains lay Helen of Sparta, who had now become, to the city’s undying glory, Helen of Troy. It was as though a goddess had descended among them, one whose mystery must not be profaned. And Paris, the people’s own prince – the bull-boy from the pastures of Mount Ida – could be seen riding proudly beside her litter. Who could argue when a beggar shouted that the age of wonders was come again upon the earth?
Antenor told how Helen’s face had still been veiled when Paris finally brought his lady before the full assembly of Priam’s family and counsellors in the great hall of the palace. ‘It was a little like watching a sculptor presenting his master work,’ he commented drily, aware of the pain on the face of Menelaus, whose sensitive imagination made him feel all the more a cuckold with each new fact he learned. ‘We had waited for so long to see her that the entire hall was agog. And yes, I have to admit that Helen is a woman of astonishing beauty – though whether any woman is worth putting an army at risk is, in my opinion, quite another matter.’
‘Or a city,’ Palamedes said.
‘Indeed.’
‘Yet we are all reasonable men. Our enmity is with Paris not with Troy. It would be a great tragedy if thousands were to die for one man’s selfish folly. Don’t you agree?’
Aware that he was answering other questions than the one that had been put to him, Antenor said, ‘Believe me, if my wife and I could see a way of avoiding war by delivering him over to you, Paris would return with you in chains this very night. But the High King is as smitten with Helen’s beauty as he is indulgent of his son. And the war party on his council is stronger than those of us who would prefer a peaceful solution. So do not expect Priam to look with favour on any demands for Helen’s return.’
When the Argive envoys presented themselves before Priam the following day, they found the atmosphere in the great hall even more openly hostile than they had expected. Paris himself was absent from the council, and Antenor did what he could to ensure a fair hearing for Agamemnon’s ambassadors, but he could not prevent the gasps and jeers of outrage with which Deiphobus and Antiphus greeted their catalogue of demands. These included the immediate return of Helen, the surrender of Paris to answer charges of murder and abduction, the compensation of Menelaus for the injury he had received, the compensation of Agamemnon and Idomeneus and all the princes under their command for the massive expense to which they had been driven by Paris’s actions, the establishing of well-defended Argive settlements in strategic locations on the Asian mainland, and free, unrestricted access to the Hellespont, the Black Sea and all the major trade routes with the east and north.
The monetary demands alone would have been sufficient to ruin Priam many times over, but the King of Troy heard Odysseus out, stony-faced, before silencing his noisier sons with a raised hand, and giving his response.
‘As to the first point, we are hardly to blame if our royal cousin of Sparta failed to satisfy his wife. Unlike my sister Hesione, who has languished in captivity on Salamis for many years, the Lady Helen is here in Troy of her own free will. If it was her wish to leave, I would regard it as beneath my dignity to keep her here. Let the princes of Argos learn a simple lesson of courtesy in that respect.’ Aware of the angry flush across the scarred face of Menelaus, he drew in his breath. ‘As to your other demands, we have long been aware that the High King at Mycenae covets our wealth and power. And why should he not when his own domain is a mere hovel by comparison? Our message to him is also simple. Nothing awaits him in Troy but ruin and humiliation. Let him clear our waters of the infestation of his ships and take his pack of Argives home before all their wives find husbands better suited to their taste.’
Remembering the last time he had stood before Priam in this hall and the amicable manner in which they had parted, Menelaus found it hard to contain his fury. ‘I see that your son lacks the courage to look me in the eye,’ he said. ‘If all your followers are as brave, King Priam, look to have your women raped, your city burned and pillaged, and your line extinguished. I