Priam stood upon the wall above the gate with Hecuba – the same place from which they’d watched their first son die. Now they were watching Greek ships sail off into the sunset, and Paris and Aeneas were riding back from the beach.
“If only they had left sooner…” Hecuba thought not only of Hector, but of all the family and friends Achilles had murdered when he’d launched his treacherous one-man attack on Hector’s funeral.
“I know,” Priam said, “But I’m sure they’re leaving because Achilles is dead at Paris’s hand, and that would not have come to pass without Hector’s sacrifice.” They continued watching the ships sail away as Paris and Aeneas came up to meet them, Paris embracing his parents jovially.
“They finally acceded to Poseidon’s demands,” Paris said, “They made a sacrifice to appease him, now they’re leaving.”
“What sort of sacrifice?” Priam asked.
“It’s actually pretty impressive,” Aeneas said pointing at an odd shape far down the beach, “They cut up a couple of their ships and reassembled them into a massive horse. They left it for the tide to carry out, along with much food, wine, and a very large portion of their stolen treasure.”
“Don’t do it,” Kassandra said.
“Do what?” Priam asked.
“What you’re thinking about doing.”
Priam studied the shape on the beach a while longer, “There was no one around?”
“One Greek man,” Paris said, “He offended Agamemnon and they left him staked to the beach to be taken with the horse.”
“We freed him,” Aeneas said, “Told him he didn’t have to go home but that he couldn’t stay here.”
“Fair enough,” Priam said, “But no evidence of any troops lingering about?”
“No, not a soul, and none of the tracks leading out of the camp were fresh. They all got onto those ships.”
“They might come back,” Hecuba said.
“That would break faith with Poseidon,” Priam said, “He wouldn’t allow it. How much food and wine did you say there was?”
“The horse has giant saddle bags loaded with the stuff. More than we were able to bring in for Hector’s wake. And there’s more on the beach.”
“And treasure, too,” Paris said, “The horse has some rather expensive improvised adornments nailed to it.”
“Don’t do it,” Kassandra said again.
“It will be hours before the tide comes in,” Priam said, “Those infernal bastards living out of the temple on Mt. Ida will descend upon it like vultures. Why let them take that bounty? Surely Poseidon would rather we have it than they? He demanded the tribute in reparation for the Greek's attack on us.”
Paris and Aeneas agreed, while Kassandra maintained her stance of, “Don’t do it.”
“Bring it back,” Priam said, “Bring it all back to Troy. Take every man you need to carry the Greek’s offering back here, starting with the food.”
“Even the horse?” Aeneas asked.
“Even the horse. We’ll keep it safe and intact within the walls of the city until Poseidon tells us otherwise.”
Kassandra shook her head and walked away.
The Trojans started by moving the offerings up the beach, away from the rising water, but then they began carrying the goods back to the city, like ants raiding a picnic. The horse was difficult to move – they had to get it up onto logs and roll it, which was fantastically hard work, but every man who touched it felt compelled to take it home for their celebration, as if possessed. They labored until the next night, but it was worth it when they rolled the wooden horse into the city walls and the feast began in earnest.
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