Odysseus had eight men with him quietly sitting in the horse’s body; Menelaus, Diomedes, Acamas, Anticlas, Machaon, Sthenelus, Thersander, and Thoas. Keeping watch from the small space in the horse’s head was the boy, Neoptolemus. Neo was a slave at Dardanus when Diomedes liberated it, and being of Greek descent himself, had sworn himself to Diomedes’s service. He was a young man, at best, but he was brave and formidable – Diomedes had even taken to calling him the bastard son of Achilles. Most importantly, he had a cool head, a sharp mind, and had been inside the city before.
It was a long and nearly insufferable time to be in the horse – between sealing themselves in and being taken into the city, more than 24 hours passed. The inside of the horse was cramped, hot, and by necessity had few holes to let in air. The men had some fresh water with them, but they sipped it carefully – a loud gulp or a spill might betray their ruse, and no man wanted to end up needing to piss.
Odysseus didn’t want Neo shouting back down to them, or trying to climb down the neck, so he gave the boy a number of colored ribbons, and instructed him to drop them down to him according to what transpired. When the red ribbon came, it meant they were passing through the gate, and all the men felt a surge of both relief and apprehension. The sounds of celebration – music, songs, laughter, and prayers surrounded the horse for a long while, but then it all stopped, and a single voice cried out.
“Menelaus!” They heard Helen’s voice, “Are you in there? Please, I want to go home! I don’t want to be left behind with that wretched Paris! Please tell me you’re in there, and that you’ve come to save me!”
Menelaus shot a confused look to Odysseus in the darkness. Odysseus mouthed back to him as best he could, “Compromised. Can’t trust her.” Menelaus nodded, and the men sat in silence as she continued for a while.
Then came another voice, “Odysseus?!” Penelope cried, “Please tell me you’re in there! The Trojans sent allies to raid Greece while you were trapped here! I’ve been kept here as a slave for three years! Please help me!”
Everyone looked around in confusion, and then there was another familiar voice – Aegiale – Diomedes’s wife. Diomedes shot Odysseus a half-unbelieving smile, and mouthed, “Aphrodite.”
The men nodded – it explained why the voices not only sounded real, they felt real. Athena had forced Dionysus to do two things – cast a spell on the horse that would make it desirable to the Trojans, and cast a spell upon it that would shield the men inside from magical detection or influence. Evidently, the latter spell was not flawless – Aphrodite sensed the men inside to some degree, but was still unsure enough of her reading that she wasn’t willing to rip the horse open and pull them out. So, she was using a spell much like one Odysseus had encountered decades ago in Africa.
“Anticlus!” Aphrodite called out the name of the last man she sensed, “It’s me, Laodamia! It’s so long since we saw each other… maybe you don’t even remember me...”
Poor Anticlus had been drafted into the Trojan War the day after his wedding to Laodamia, practically pulled from their marriage bed. He’d wanted nothing more than to return to her and make up for lost time. He wouldn’t have even been in the horse, but they’d drawn lots to fill out the strike team, and he’d lost.
“We have a child, Anticlus! Conceived the night we were married. I named her Thysea. She’s ten years old now, Anticlus, do you want to see her?”
With that Anticlus started to move for the hatch. It was irrational to think that it was true, but Aphrodite’s charms were bound to sink their hooks into one of the men, and Anticlus was three times unlucky. Odysseus grabbed him, wrapped one arm around his neck to hold his jaw shut, and placed his free hand over Anticlus’s mouth, while Diomedes and the other men restrained his limbs. Odysseus squeezed his eyes so tight with the exertion of holding the man that tears rolled down his cheeks.
I should have brought ear plugs, Odysseus thought.
Anticlus stopped struggling and became completely quiet, despite Aphrodite trying for a bit longer to lure him out, Odysseus was afraid the man was playing possum, and kept his grip tight until Menelaus reached over, and grabbed his shoulder. Odysseus looked over at him, and Menelaus simply shook his head sadly. Odysseus released his grip on Anticlus, and the dead man fell limp in his arms. Odysseus clapped a hand over his mouth to prevent himself from crying. He hadn’t meant to kill the man, but discovery would have doomed them all and Odysseus wanted to live. He wept silently for the widow who would never know her husband, and the man who would never see children.
The men continued to sit in silence as the celebration outside resumed. It continued well into the night, but died down just before dawn. Neo dropped a green ribbon down to Odysseus when several minutes passed without any motion from the guards in the agora.
The Greeks carefully unsealed the hatch in the horse’s belly and descended from it, Diomedes going first. There were still a few guards, but they had indulged in the wine and food, and were slow and confused. The Achaean strike team dispatched them quietly and cleanly, along with the various passed out Trojans scattered around the main square the horse had been parked in. Murdering civilians in cold blood left a bad taste in Odysseus’s mouth, but they couldn’t afford the risk of some hungover Trojan waking up and raising the alarm. Neo slid down the inside of the horse’s neck to join Odysseus, who was still in the compartment.
“I want to see it!” Neo whispered.
Odysseus showed him Athena’s bracelet, “There, now go. If I do this wrong, half of me could end up in east Asia.” Neo dropped out of the horse, and Odysseus adjusted the beads in the precise way Athena had shown him. He set the bracelet under a tense plank next to the hatch, and released it as he dropped out. The plank snapped down on the bracelet, depressing the button that activated it, and a portal appeared inside the wooden horse. On the other side, Teucer was looking down at them. Odysseus gave him the all clear, and their reinforcements began to pour through the portal.
Evidently, the magical device wasn’t supposed to maintain a portal for more than two seconds at a time, but Athena had estimated it could stay open long enough for thirty five men to move through, though it would permanently expend the device's magic. Athena was wrong – thirty one and two thirds men made it through the portal before it collapsed. Odysseus caught the unlucky bastard who’d been separated from his head and shoulders, and gently set the remains down against one of the horse’s legs.
The forty Achaean soldiers spread out through the city, Neo directing Teucer to the room where the gate’s winch was before leading Diomedes and his men to the barracks. An owl softly hooted from a nearby rooftop, and Odysseus was relieved to see Adresteia waiting for him. While the other men took control of the city, Menelaus and Odysseus went to Adresteia. She assumed her true shape, complete with the black armor she’d summoned on the beach years ago.
“Remember, we need Aphrodite to break the spell on Helen,” Adresteia reminded them, “Simply killing Paris or removing the necklace will likely kill Helen.”
“Where is she?” Menelaus asked.
“All three of them are together in Paris’s quarters, but Paris is sober and rested – Aphrodite warned him away from the celebration because she suspected there was something off with the horse.”
“Sober or not, I defeated Paris once before. If you can handle Aphrodite, I can handle Paris.”
“That was years ago, Menelaus,” Odysseus said, “And you’re not rested. You’ve been awake for thirty hours and are dehydrated. Don’t overestimate yourself. You sure you don’t want me to come with you?”
“No Oddball,” Menelaus clapped a hand on his shoulder, “Do what you came to do. Honor the men who’ve died here.” They separated, Adresteia leading Menelaus to Paris’s quarters, and Odysseus searching for Hector’s.
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