The Red Mud River flowed circuitously through the identical hemispherical hills that lay between Ilium and the sea. It was the rainy season, so the river ran high and even when it wasn't raining the only tolerably dry spots were the tops of the hills, and, as there were enough to go around, every soldier pitched his camp atop one. Looking at the many widely-spaced fires from a height one would have thought that many-towered Ilium had been invested by giants rather than mere human soldiers of varying degrees of wetness.37.1
Odysseus trudged up the spiral path from the river to his tent in mud-caked boots, a fishing pole and three fish slung over his shoulder. He paused to take in the grey morning and turn a weather eye on Ilium, from whose temples the smoke of burnt offerings rose in white columns. ``If Ilium's gods are having a feast, so shall I,'' he remarked as he cleaned his fish and went into his tent to cook them.
The acrid smoke of damp firewood poured up out of the tent. Outside a white fox sat under the rain-washed leaves of a juniper bush, watching the smoke, inhaling the aroma of roasting fish and thinking about Odysseus, whom she had been watching for days. He was handsome, not to mention young and strong, and his face had that broad, elegant blankness she had always liked. Flicking her pristine tail, she came to a decision and sprang lightly into a puddle, immersing herself, her luxuriant brush immediately sodden and scraggly, and then went and scratched at the tent door. Odysseus opened it and saw a small, miserable fox, dripping wet, shivering with cold, a paw raised in supplication. Although his family was obscure they had raised him well--he concealed his surprise and said ``Come in and be welcome in my house, fox,'' and invited her to sit by his fire, which she did with melting eyes and a great show of timidity. He took a blanket and gently dried her, which she suffered, and gave her a portion of fish, which she snapped down with alarming rapidity, her little white teeth clicking. She then turned around three times, curled up on his carpet and went to sleep.
Odysseus sat oiling his sword (rust came quickly in that climate) and watching his new guest sidelong. There were no foxes where he came from but they had a witchy reputation. He had heard of one sighted at the court of King Agamemnon and they were known to haunt the hills of Ilium. But watching this one take long, slow, deep breaths, and seeming almost to smile in her sleep, he could not think she was much of a threat. And then, the war had been going on for a long time and he did not mind the company.
In due time he banked the fire, closed the flap, put a blanket over the fox, and lay down to sleep. Hours passed. In the middle watches of the night the fox sat up and looked around the tent. There was his sword, his armor on a stand, a bronze bow, firewood, sacks of tea, and hunting arrows with broad tips (at which she frowned). In a twinkling the fox was gone and a woman with clear skin and agate eyes sat staring at Odysseus, chin on hand, tapping her long, pointed nails on the hearth-stones.
Odysseus woke up at dawn, washed his face in cold water (the one thing of which there was an abundance) and started crushing leaves for tea. The fox, fully recovered now, perched on his breast plate and watched him with interest. Twitching her tail, she asked him, ``What are you doing here, warrior, so far from home?''
Not altogether surprised that the fox could speak Odysseus took a careful mouthful of tea before responding. ``I am here in the service of Agamemnon and Menelaus, who have brought war to Ilium. Menelaus's wife was stolen from him by Paris and now honor must be avenged.''
``Helen was stolen from him, was she? This Menelaus must be a man of great excellence if he is so certain she was not just bored with him. Excellence, or," she yawned hugely, ``stupidity. But speaking of excellence, I can see by the way you carry yourself that you are a man of real consequence. Surely you are at least a general?''
"No, ha ha, not me. Just another soldier.37.2 No one important, I'm afraid."
``That's hard to believe,'' the fox said coquettishly. ``And anyway, why bother fighting, then? Let Menelaus fight his own battles, assuming he can stay sober long enough to put on his armor.''
``Well, it's my duty, you see. They came and asked me to fight and I had to go. That's how it is. And anyway, I once saw Helen at court--I have never seen anyone as beautiful. So I can hardly blame the king for dragging us out here.''
``Well now, this is better,'' said the fox. ``Romance. But with regard to Helen (whose beauty is, or so I have heard, very great indeed, even transcendental), wouldn't you rather have her for yourself? A strong young man like you--I'm sure she'd have you. And, I could help. Foxes come and go as they like. I could show you the secret ways into Ilium, help you dispose of your rivals, leave their clean-picked bones in middens. You would be the head-man and the envy of others, yes?"
``What an aggressive fox you are! But, no, that's not for me. I just want to finish the war and go back to Ithaca. When I left my wife was pregnant. The letters say my son is healthy, but I have yet to see him." He thought for a moment and added, ``Besides, if I took Helen home with me, first of all my wife wouldn't like it, and second Menelaus would sack Ithaca.''
The fox fidgeted. ``Well, that to the side, it is a shame that you've been so long away. How long has this war been going on now?''
``Five years less a month and a day.''
``Imagine. Your son has long since been speaking, and he cannot put a face to your name. And your wife must miss you so. She will be very lonely, and her bed so cold--by now she will feel as though she has started a new life."
``What do you mean?''
``Only that you should end the war and go home as soon as you can. And, as you have been so kind, I will help you do it. We foxes are known for our gratitude.''
``How could you help?'' asked Odysseus, his face clouded by doubt, the tea cooling in his hands.
``I can put the city into your hands. I know everything there is to know about Ilium and will show you how to become its master.''
``My dear guest, I do not mean to question your good will, but foxes have an evil reputation and those who deal with them are said to come to grief."
``Its true that many of my sisters have acquired a richly deserved reputation for depravity. In these very hills there was once a fox named Torch Bright who founded cities and crowned men innumerable and then brought them low for no better reason than that it pleased her to do so. But set your heart at rest--I swear by the God of Swords37.3 that I will not harm the least hair on your head.''
There was a long pause and then Odysseus said, ``What should I do?''
``First you will need the proper accouterments--you must stand out if you are to do what must be done. I know a spot where a god-forged suit of armor is buried, entombed with a hero who died centuries ago."
``How do you know where he's buried?"
``We foxes know all sorts of things,'' she replied airily. ``At any rate, when you exhume these treasures, you will attract attention. This is good, as you may catch the King's eye, but do not, whatever you do, mention foxes. I will give you a story that will be far more useful..."
Odysseus took a shovel and dug where the fox had told him. He soon attracted a crowd of soldiers who, as Ilium was quiescent that day, had nothing better to do than watch, drink wine and offer suggestions.
Odysseus's spade cut through mud, then rotten, tangled roots, then a layer of wet ash, then arrowheads and pottery fragments. Finally it struck a spark when it hit dressed stone. The idle soldiers peered into his hole, its gelatinous perimeter already collapsing as Odysseus pried up the stone and revealed the cavity of a tomb. He reached in up to his shoulder and pulled out a sheathed sword, light in his hand, and then a shield, wrought of gold and very heavy. In the tomb there remained a handful of amber beads, ancient desiccated crumbling flower petals, and yellowed bones that had been cracked, as though to get at the marrow, but Odysseus let these things be and replaced the stone seal.
The swordblade was unblemished, glittering nacreous grey in the rainy sunlight. He tried the point on his thumb--the lightest touch elicited a drop of blood. Two cities were depicted on the shield: The one on the left showed a great crowd driving a herd of horses into a city's central square, where a priest cut the throat of a screaming, thrashing stallion before the idol of a fox god who seemed to be observing the proceedings with wicked equanimity. On the right was the same city in tumult and decay, enemy soldiers running through the streets with drawn blades, some buildings burning, others derelict, the curtain wall tumbled down, and the fox temple gone altogether.
Menelaus, the cuckold king who had taken them to Ilium, approached as Odysseus stood transfixed by the blade and said, ``Soldier, have you overthrown Ilium single handed while I slept, that you have time to dig holes and rob ancient graves? Let the dead keep their arms, and when you are in the shadow-lands may you be treated as fairly."
Odysseus said, ``My lord, do not reproach me. Last night I dreamed that a bloody ghost came and stood by me. He was the biggest man I have ever seen--alive, he must have been the mainstay of his army. Even with death's pallor he was handsome. His corpse was unblemished, or so I thought, till he turned to lead me away and I saw the wound on his right heel, leaving a red track behind him. He led me to the spot where we now stand and handed me his sword and shield, the arms I now bear. Then he turned and looked at Troy with great hatred before dissolving into smoke and flowing down into the muck. Some warrior long dead still hates the Trojans.'' The story came out well, as the fox had made him practice. She had prosed away about the golden warrior and his great beauty until Odysseus had frowned at her, at which point she was contrite and fell silent.
``These hills must be full of dead men who hate that foul city. May their spirits soon be avenged.'' Ever pious, Menelaus ordered a sacrifice to the spirit of the warrior who had helped Odysseus--a priest came and slit a black ram's throat, the blood pouring into Odysseus's pit and pooling on the stone.
Three days later Odysseus went to Menelaus's tent at sunset. The frowning guards admitted him into the torchlit interior where Menelaus regarded him through the smoke. ``It is the diviner, the friend of ghosts, the wielder of ancient weapons. Have the dead made any new additions to your armamentarium?"
``I only need the one sword, my king,'' said Odysseus, more relaxed this time. ``I did have another dream but in this one the warrior took me to the enemy wall and showed me a band of Trojans leaving through the east gate. The warrior pointed at the moon--I saw that it was midnight--and then dissolved in the wind.''
Menelaus toyed with a dagger and Odysseus saw that his hand was covered with the scars of many pairs of tiny puncture-wounds. He turned to an aide de camp and said, ``We will be waiting by the east gate at midnight.''
Coming back from the fight in the small hours of the morning Odysseus collapsed onto his cot and saw the fox rummaging through his supplies. ``It fell out as you said," he sighed. ``He trusts me now, and my star is rising. I never thought I wanted rank but seeing how the other men treat me now I could not give it up. I have two questions. First, how did you know what the Trojans would do? Second, what is the next thing?''
The fox's tail lashed from side to side as she rooted around in his rations, finally emerging triumphantly with a piece of dried beef.
``I was hiding under a bush,'' answered the fox primly around her mouthful, ``with a bird I had caught when I heard Hector discussing strategy with his generals. The bird had too many feathers and this beef is too tough. I don't know how you eat it with your flat teeth.''
``I shall boil it for you, if you like,'' said Odysseus, ever conscientious.
The fox demurred and gulped down her meal. Licking her chops she said, ``At any rate, I did not come here just to raid your larder. The next thing is that now is your chance to end the war. I've been skulking inside Ilium's walls, even sneaking into their holy places, hearing what there is to hear. They are confident of beating you and convinced that you will soon flee with your tail between your legs.
``So this is what you must get Menelaus to do. Have the army strike camp and sail away as though giving up. But before you go, build a statue of a horse, elegantly constructed, and leave it before Ilium's gate. Horses are holy sacrifices in Ilium and such an offering would be well received. The chuffed Trojans will take it within their walls to deck it with garlands and gloat over their victory.
``The horse will be hollow, and full of the bravest Greeks. When night comes they will let themselves down and open the gates to admit the Greek army, returned under cover of darkness, into the sleeping, vulnerable city.''
``Why wouldn't they just burn the horse? I would.''
``You do not appreciate the depth of their contempt for you--the Trojan queen regards the Greeks as pets, at best. I promise you, follow this plan and the horse will make it safely within their walls.''
The inside of the horse was full of the sound of breathing. Odysseus held himself perfectly still, as even the smallest noise echoed in the cramped space. In retrospect, the plan seemed like pure folly. He wanted to open the hatch and leave and had tried on a thousand excuses for doing so but could not bring himself to flee in front of the other soldiers, especially since they were there at his urging.
Voices outside and then creaking motion. The soldiers bared their teeth and exchanged looks in the dim filtered light. Odysseus clutched his sword, expecting at every moment for the world to be upended as the Trojans, no fools, pushed the horse over a cliff, but they soon came to a gentle halt.
``Come out and come down!" cried a high imperious voice that Odysseus recognized as the fox's.
``Helen,'' growled Menelaus. Without hesitation he drew his sword, opened the hatch and slid down the rope and out of sight. The other soldiers followed, Odysseus last.
Odysseus landed in a clump of Greek soldiers, all with their shields up. They were in a temple's circular courtyard, surrounded on all sides by Trojan archers. There was an altar laden with many candles and before it, flanked by bodyguards armed with horse-cutters,37.4 stood Helen. She was just as beautiful as when he had last seen her, more beautiful even, for now she was radiantly happy, smiling broadly and showing all of her fine white teeth.
``Menelaus, dear husband, I have missed you so. Why did it take you so long to come and find me?'' she said in a voice of artless, pouty innocence.
``I am taking you back to Sparta. Get your things and follow me," said Menelaus through his teeth, which Odysseus thought was very brave, if not entirely convincing.
Helen grinned at him, seeming to swell with delight. She said, ``Your bones will go back to Sparta, but only when I have picked them clean.'' She nodded and the archers opened fire. Menelaus rushed her but her bodyguards cut him through the hamstrings and he fell helpless at her feet. The other Greeks formed a shield wall but, beset from all sides, they soon perished, except for Odysseus, whose shield was up to ward off the arrows that came only for the others.
Helen caught her bodyguard's eye, jerked her thumb at Menelaus and said, ``The refectory.'' The guard dragged the still breathing king away by his hair as the archers stood by impassively with arrows nocked in lowered bows.
Helen approached Odysseus, drew a sharp nail down his cheek and kissed him. ``He was a terrible husband, you know. He was cruel,'' she murmured in his ear. ``He broke oaths and kept me confined, and mine a spirit that needs so much room. He was charming at first, promised me a life of opulence, but it was a lie, as so much of what he said was lies, such a complexity of falsehoods and indirections that even he could hardly keep them straight.
``Once we got to Sparta I was little more than chattel to him. Not long after the wedding he lost all interest in me but would still frown like a storm cloud if I so much as stepped out of the women's quarters. And as for luxury, a Spartan's idea of the high life is a bath once a season and enough raw wine that he never gets sober. And this, this most of all, he did not honor the gods and their messengers as they deserve. And so I came back home. Where else could I go?
``But listen to me, Odysseus. His death was written in his pride and if we were the vehicle of it we were not the cause. If he had only let me alone he would still be ruling his helots from a throne of mud and sticks. But, no, he could not tolerate the thought that some of his property had eluded him.
``I used every artifice to put him off, every bluff and indirection, but his blind persistence finally drove me to ground here. What else could I do but send him to the shadow kingdom? Death would have found him on the battlefield soon enough anyway--his kind never make old bones--and otherwise he never would have left me alone.
``And, of course, I had another purpose--bringing you here. The crown is heavy, and I need help if I am to bear it.''
He looked for words but found none. She studied his face, twirled so that her red and white robes flew out around her, feeling his eyes travel over her flushed cheeks, the gold in her hair, the diamonds in her ears. She stopped and posed where, as she had learned over the centuries, the torchlight was most flattering. ``Come, my beautiful, my pretty one, take my hand and be my king. Rule Ilium for me and conduct my rites. You will have honor and gold and armies, everything men crave. And, of course, me,'' she said, rubbing against him, and he felt the heat of her body through her thin silk robe. But his face crumpled and he said in a wavering voice that he missed his wife and wanted to go home.
Her seductive leer froze, thawed, and was replaced with disgust. ``Then go to her. Your loyalty to your woman is touching. I will not imprison you here. No, not for a moment. And more than that, I will bless your trip. I swear by the God of Swords that you will arrive home safe and your little wife will be waiting for you.'' Odysseus thanked her, wept tears of gratitude, praised her generosity. He went so far as to try to kiss the hem of her sleeve but her composure was cracking and she sent him off to his ship.
She went up on the walls to watch him depart, the citizens of Ilium bowing and then scattering at her approach. Pensively, she propped her chin on her hand and thought of the cities she had ruled and ruined, all underground now, moldering beneath mountains of earth, vast tombs stretching away to the sea like so many hills, the Red Mud River running between them. Her eyes, sharp even in starlight, saw her enemy's ships dropping anchor by the distant beach, soldiers pouring out to wait in vain for the gates of Ilium to open.
The city wall below her was already rotting, moss growing between the stones, and, although it seemed like it had only been a handful of centuries since she had had this city built on the plain's alluvial sands, already she was tired of her temple, her servants and the increasingly useless line of princes she kept handy. Soon she would abandon them, if not to build a new city by the ruins of the this one then to go wandering again in the West where there were still heroes to be found for those who knew where to look.
She sagged against the battlements, tired and cross, all her good nature gone. As Odysseus disappeared into the shadows of the hills she emended her prophecy: ``And more than that, I curse your trip, fool, mortal, little man who disdains what is too good for him. Before you see any sight of home you will endure ten years of the greatest suffering at others' hands, and you will be the captive of women, if not of me. Not only that, but when you see your wife she will be surrounded by half a hundred lovers, all out for your blood, and what will you do then, my lovely one?" As he reached the sea she turned away from him and walked slowly back to her temple, thinking about the God of Swords, who had not spoken to her since the empty plains reached all the way to the sea, and wondering why he had gone away.