Warrior’s Prize

Menelaus was too anxious to get a wink

of sleep. He too feared what might happen…

Iliad, Homer, Book X (Rouse’s translation)

I stared at Menelaus, heart pounding, as he turned to my captors. “Were you seen?”

“Nay, sir,” one of them answered. “Agamemnon’s men are still looking for her amid the confusion she caused—she loosed the king’s horses.”

Menelaus’s smile widened, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He pulled me into the hut. “Well done!” he said to the men. “Now go stand guard outside. Not a word of this to anyone! You’ll be rewarded—but only if my brother the king gets no wind of her presence here. And send the women to prepare her a bath. No need to heat the water. I want it done at once.”

I went weak kneed with relief. He wasn’t going to give me back to Agamemnon—at least not yet. But what did he want? He shut the door. I was in a smaller version of Agamemnon’s hut. There was an inner room at the back, closed off by a heavy curtain. Several lamps were lit.

“Well!” he exclaimed. “Your little escapade has been most fortunate. Athena, my patroness, must have led you to run away in front of one of my men.” He held up a lamp to examine me and made a grimace of distaste. “You look as if you’ve been penned up with swine. In this state you’re no use to me. What sort of an offering would you make?”

Offering? What did he mean? I dared not ask. And why was he keeping me hidden from his brother?

“Your bath will be ready soon,” he said. “The women will make you presentable.” He gave a small one-sided smile and broke into a chuckle as if enjoying a private joke. This was a far different Menelaus from the meek, soft-spoken man I had met in Agamemnon’s presence. He smiled too much while his eyes remained cold. I felt a quiver of fear.

“What do you want with me, sir?” I asked.

“My brother’s made a mess of things, and I intend to fix them.” His chill glance slid down my body. “The less you know the better. Just do as I say.” He pointed to the door. “Go to your bath now. And don’t even think of escape. My men are armed and standing guard.”

In the courtyard two serving women waited beside a tub less than half filled with water. The guards hovered in the shadows, and I had to strip and climb into the tub under their watching eyes. Fortunately, by now it was almost completely dark. The water was icy, and my teeth chattered. Still I was glad of the chance to scrub my body clean of the filth and grit from my imprisonment. When I was done, one of the women helped me into a loose white robe with flowing sleeves such as a temple priestess might wear at a sacrifice.

When I returned to Menelaus, he was sitting in the chair before the hearth. He waved me to a stool and studied me with a bland smile. “Much better! Agamemnon would be furious if he knew that I have you. Still, he’ll thank me in the end.” He stroked his neatly trimmed beard. Then his eyes narrowed. “What did you do that night to anger him so?”

Surprised, I said, “Nothing, sir. But it seems I remind him of his daughter.”

He leaned forward. “Iphigenia?” His eyes glowed yellowish, wolfish, very like those of his brother. “Didn’t I warn you not to speak of her? What happened?”

I dropped my gaze. “You’d best ask him yourself.”

Menelaus made an angry gesture. Then a sly look crossed his face. “I wonder,” he mused, “how my brother’s embraces compared with those of the great Achilleus.”

I felt the blood leave my face. My hands gripped the sides of my stool. Menelaus smirked. “So! You must have done all in your power to discourage Agamemnon’s attentions.” The corners of his mouth deepened. I was beginning to detest that smile. “Perhaps you even played on your resemblance to his dead daughter to cause him to fail in bed.”

I lowered my eyes. I could think of nothing to say.

“Just as I thought!” he crowed. “Things may yet turn out well for the Achaeans.” Getting to his feet, he stood looking down at me in a way that roused all my misgivings. “I shall keep you hidden until the right time.” He rubbed his forehead, then said suddenly, “No tricks, though! You wouldn’t get far.”

“Where would I go, sir? Since Achilleus has sailed—” My throat constricted.

He narrowed his eyes. “How do you know that?”

“Your brother told me, sir.” When he said nothing for a moment, I asked with a surge of hope, “Was he lying?”

“No, unfortunately he wasn’t. Your precious Achilleus left us all in the lurch.” He gave a short laugh. “If he’s had no mishaps at sea, he’s likely reached his home by now. So you’re stuck with us.” He stared at me in such a cold, speculative way that my stomach tightened in fear.

“What are you going to do with me, sir?” I asked.

His eyes shifted. “Something that will raise the men’s morale. With Achilleus gone, they’ll need it. You needn’t fear. It won’t harm you.” A lie, I was sure. He smiled again and reached out to raise me to my feet. “That stinking shed has not been good for you. We must make you healthy and fair again—and fatten you up. Why, you have lost flesh in the most important places!” His eyes grew hot, and his hands came up to touch me. At that moment we heard the slam of a gate and a loud voice outside giving an abrupt command.

Agamemnon.

Menelaus jumped as if scalded. He seized me and pushed me into the inner room, his sleeping chamber. “You stay here, and not one sound out of you if you value your life! If he discovers your presence—” He made a slashing motion across my throat. Pulling the heavy curtain across the opening, he went out.

My heart was pounding so hard I had to concentrate on breathing quietly. The room was quite dim. Only a faint light came through the opening near the ceiling. As my eyes adjusted to the near-darkness, I could see a bed, a chest, a chair. No place to hide. I crouched behind the curtain, praying that Menelaus could keep Agamemnon from coming in here.

In the outer room, Menelaus greeted his brother in loud, hearty tones.

Agamemnon was saying, “Good evening, brother! Have you supped yet?”

I let out a breath. He didn’t know I was here. From the level tone of his voice, I guessed he didn’t even know I was missing. His men must have been too afraid to tell him.

“My women are preparing supper now. Will you join me?” Menelaus sounded wary and reluctant. Agamemnon gave no audible answer, but presently I heard the creak of a man’s weight settling into a chair, the slosh of wine being poured.

Agamemnon said, “What ails you, brother? You seem as nervous as an old woman.”

“I couldn’t sleep last night—I’m worried the Trojans will defeat us,” Menelaus answered. “So many died in the plague. We haven’t gone to battle since Achilleus left. But when we do—”

“Are you blaming me for quarreling with that man?” Agamemnon began in a threatening tone. “When at this very moment he—”

“Oh, not at all!” Menelaus interrupted. “I blame myself! If my wife hadn’t left me and our child and run off with that worthless Trojan, we wouldn’t be fighting this war.”

So Helen had not been abducted. She had left this cold, cruel man—and her child—for her Trojan lover. I pulled back a tiny portion of the curtain to peer through. Agamemnon sat with his back to me.

Menelaus was flushed, gesticulating. “The men have lost heart,” he said. “Their spirits are so low it’s as if they’re already defeated.”

Agamemnon lurched to his feet. I shrank back. “Of course they haven’t lost heart! I shall prove it the very next time we go to battle.”

“How?” Menelaus sounded doubtful.

“By putting them to the test. I shall offer them the chance to sail for home—or stay and fight like men.”

“I don’t think that’s wise,” Menelaus objected. “It’s likely to backfire.”

“Don’t you dare question me!” Agamemnon burst out.

Silence. A muffled sigh. Then Menelaus said, “I have another idea.”

“I don’t think much of your ideas,” Agamemnon grunted. His chair creaked. “Remember when you persuaded me to send a spy to Troy, and he was caught and beheaded?”

Just then I heard the outer door open, and there was a scrape of wood across the floor as tables were moved. The serving women had brought supper, interrupting the men’s talk. As clay vessels clattered onto wooden surfaces, the smell of cooked goat and fresh bread came to my nostrils. My stomach growled with hunger. For a few moments after the women withdrew, the only sounds I heard were of noisy eating. I stayed very still, my nerves as tight as warp on a loom. The disagreement between the brothers, this foolhardy plan to test the men’s morale—these things would be wonderful news to the war leaders of Troy.

If I could get away.

After a lengthy pause Agamemnon spoke, his words muffled as if his mouth were full. “So the men are disheartened, eh? What do they think I should have done when Achilleus—”

Just as my ears pricked up at the name, Menelaus interjected. “I have a thought about what we could do to raise the men’s spirits. Don’t you think a sacrifice to the goddess Athena would—”

A sacrifice. Ice crept down my spine. I did not even hear the rest of what he said. An offering. Fatten you up. I remembered the unfortunate Iphigenia, slaughtered on the altar of Artemis so that the fleet could sail. Suddenly I knew.

I would be the sacrifice to restore the Achaeans’ courage.

I clenched my hands tightly—tried to think. They wouldn’t do it tonight. It was too late. Menelaus would keep my presence secret until he was ready to reveal his plan to the king. But he might persuade Agamemnon to do it tomorrow.

I imagined them convening the men, building an altar—

I had to escape tonight.

But where would I go? Hide among the women? With both the king and his brother after my blood, none of the women would dare shelter me. I must not only find a way out of this hut—I must get clean away from the camp and go to Troy. But how, with a high wall around the camp, and all the gates guarded?

Then suddenly, as if a god had put the answer in my mind, I saw how I could do it.

I was calm now, thinking clearly. I went over every step of my plan. Aye, it could work. I needed certain things, though, and I must find them quickly, before Agamemnon left and Menelaus came for me.

The men were still eating. They spoke of trivial things now: the weather, the quality of the wine. In the faint light I looked around Menelaus’s sleeping chamber. All his personal possessions were surely here. I could make out the shape of a chest. I lifted its lid. Halfway up, the wood creaked faintly. My hand froze. The men’s talk paused. I held my breath. Then Menelaus spoke again, in a natural, level tone. I eased the chest open.

It was filled with Menelaus’s garments and also his treasures. Gold goblets, armbands, and jeweled brooches gleamed faintly. Fingers trembling, I examined several pieces in the dim light. I needed something of value, stamped with his identity.

Suddenly, a chair scraped against the floor. Heavy footsteps tramped across the room. Quickly I closed the lid. The footsteps retreated, followed by others. The outer door opened. Agamemnon was taking his leave.

I opened the chest again and found a clasp made from a large stone, probably a carnelian. My fingers traced the engraving on it, an embossed, helmeted head, surely the head of Athena, whom he had called his patroness. I also grabbed a gold armband.

The outer door closed. Menelaus’s footsteps approached. I shut the lid and stood, stuffing the items into the side of my girdle, trying to quiet my breathing.

He flung the curtain aside. “Zeus, that was close! He mustn’t find out about you until I’m ready.” I gripped my trembling hands together, my arm hiding the bulge in my sash where the stolen treasures pressed into my skin. “I suppose you’re hungry,” he said grudgingly. “There’s food left over.”

He turned away and I drew a deep breath. “Thank you, sir.”

In the outer room again, I sat on the same stool as before. I was ravenous, thankful for the meat scraps and fragments of bread, even if I had to gulp them down under his narrowed, calculating gaze. I would need all my strength for tonight.

To distract him, I said, between mouthfuls, “Your wife, sir—she must be very beautiful.”

His brows came down like thunderclouds. He got up, paced. “When we vanquish Troy, I’ll make her pay for what she did—for deceiving me. I’ll kill her.” He spun around suddenly to face me. “And you—I’ll wager you’re another like her. I know all about your trickery!”

I almost choked. The hidden objects burned against my waist. Had he guessed? I managed to stammer, “What—what do you mean?”

“You deceived my brother—and his guards,” he said. I sank back in my chair, limp. “But you won’t play me for a fool. I’ll keep you tied up if I have to, until you’ve served my purpose.”

“Oh, no, there’s no need, sir,” I said, my voice shaky. “I’m so glad you’re hiding me from the king. As long as you let me stay here, I’m very grateful.”

For a moment he was silent, and I was afraid I’d overdone it, but he said, “So you should be! Agamemnon’s men are looking for you. They haven’t dared tell him they let you escape. They’d do anything to lay their hands on you.” He laughed shortly. “If you set foot outside this hut—”

“I won’t, I promise! He means to kill me, he told me so. You’ll keep me safe, sir?”

“If you do as I say.” He shrugged. “You can sleep by the hearth here. No tricks, though! My men are just outside the courtyard gate.”

He went into the inner room. Through the curtain opening I saw him lift the lid of the chest. I held my breath. But he only scrabbled in it for a bundle of rugs before slamming it shut. “Here!” He tossed the rugs to me. Giving me a final, menacing look, he went back into the sleeping chamber and pulled the curtain across the opening behind him.

I let out a vast sigh. He claimed he hadn’t slept well last night. My plan could only succeed if he slept like the dead tonight.