Читать книгу Penelope's Man: The Homing Instinct - John Erskine - Страница 6

Table of Contents

Odysseus was ten years getting home from Troy. Homer made a hero out of him, the type of those who, though tossed about by waves of ocean or of fate, are resourceful and patient. Homer was his best friend.

Oddly enough, Odysseus was no great admirer of Helen. It may have been this peculiarity which caused her to speak of him always with respect. Unless you read carefully, you get the impression that he was one of her many suitors, pledged with them to stand by the lucky man who won her; therefore he went to Troy with the rest, and through his cleverness—the wooden horse, and all that—enabled the Greeks to catch the beautiful but naughty woman, and make her live with her husband again. A competent citizen, with an eye to the interests of the community.

The facts are otherwise. He was only technically a suitor, not being in love with that particular lady, and though he did swear to help Menelaos if any one ran off with her, yet when the clearly foreseen accident occurred, he tried to back out. Not that he was a coward, but he had no stake in that war. When the city was tottering and the Greeks were exhausted, both sides having had enough, he did invent that absurd wooden machine, but a woman had a hand in the affair, the very woman, Helen herself.

Indeed, most of his exploits involve women. Some of them are called goddesses, but it comes to the same thing. He had a gift for narrative, and could bestow romance upon the bleakest episode. So many women, in fact, that Samuel Butler insisted the Odyssey must have been composed by a female partial to her sex, an aggressive feminist. When you look into it, you don’t know whether to call the hero “much wandering, much tossed about,” or “much mothered.” If these women hadn’t taken him in, furnished him with bed and board and passed him along, he never would have got home.

It’s time his doings were reported from their point of view. The wooden-horse affair, to begin with.

The Greeks were holding a council in the evening, active combat having ceased at supper-time.

Agamemnon summed up his opinion in a few vigorous words. “As I see it, we’ve been here ten years, and we’re getting nowhere. Five years ago the prospect was bright. The Trojans came out almost every day, and Achilles would cut them down. The mortality exceeded the birth-rate, and time was a factor on our side. After Achilles died, we lost ground, but since his efficient son joined us and took his place, the favorable ratio has been restored, or would be if the Trojans hadn’t adopted their present despicable tactics. They now decline to come out and be killed. This campaign has become static.”

He sat down, and many in the circle commented privately on his lucid style and his realistic turn of thought. Odysseus stood up and cleared his throat.

“Though I agree with the previous speaker as to our condition at the moment, I see no reason why our strategy should remain paralyzed.”

“I didn’t say our strategy is paralyzed,” interrupted Agamemnon, “I said the campaign is static. You don’t, by any chance, imply criticism of my command?”

“I imply nothing. I was about to contribute an idea. If the Trojans won’t come out, we’ll have to go in.”

He sat down, and many in the circle reflected how simple the problems of life are, when a real mind gets to work on them. But Agamemnon was not impressed.

“If I get your idea,” he said, “we’re to knock on the gate and ask them to open up. I move that Odysseus be elected a committee of one to call on the Trojans.”

The King of Ithaca declined to be rebuked.

“My plan contemplated a certain elaboration which would involve the whole army. If I’m not taking up too much of this assembly’s valuable time?”

Agamemnon grunted. “Go on, we’ve nothing else to do.”

“Well, then, why not build an immense effigy of wood, a figure suitable for worship in a temple, but hollow, so that a number of us can hide inside? Leave it where it will attract the attention of the Trojans, who will then welcome it as the symbol of a god come to aid them.”

“And what happens next?” said Agamemnon.

“They’ll take it into the city, of course, and during the night those of us concealed within will creep out, unlock the gates and admit the others.”

The council couldn’t resist a round of applause—all except Agamemnon.

“This god or idol we’re to make—you didn’t say what the thing is to look like.”

“A horse,” said Odysseus. “Since it’s to be found on the shore, they will think it’s a gift from the sea, one of Poseidon’s horses.”

Agamemnon laughed, not in a complimentary tone.

“This proposal strikes me as ridiculous. Even if we could build such a contrivance with enough resemblance to the animal to deceive the near-sighted, and even if the Trojans should want the monster in their town, how could they move it? With a number of us inside, too!”

Odysseus was ready for him.

“Before burdening you with this suggestion, I talked it over with the ship’s carpenter. He thinks he could make a passable horse, in fact, a rather artistic representation. You’ve all noticed the life-like emblem on the prow of my boat—we’ve only to repeat it on a larger scale. As for moving it, we’ll provide rollers.”

“Do you think I’d ask any friend,” said Agamemnon, “to go to his death in that crazy trap? The Trojans would probably burn it as a thank-offering—that is, if we had gone home. Unless we go, you couldn’t build a horse fascinating enough to lure them out. And besides, we don’t know what sort of guard they keep in Troy—even if the plan worked, the men in the horse wouldn’t know how to let in the rest of the army.”

The council thought it over, and the wooden horse began to look a bit impracticable.

“Unless,” continued the chief, “some reckless idiot here volunteers to pay a call on the city, as I suggested a moment ago, and ask them just what their internal arrangements are.”

The assembly laughed, seizing the excuse of his sarcasm to hide their general aversion to spy duty. Odysseus was stung; he wasn’t accustomed to public ignominy.

“If my plan is adopted, I’ll volunteer! I’m no more eager than the rest of you to die, but it’s this or nothing. If you had any ideas yourself, Agamemnon, your smartish talk would be more appropriate. But now I make you a fair offer—if this assembly will vote to build the wooden horse and try out my plan, I’ll enter Troy to-night, and learn how to open the gates!”

While the votes were being counted, he rather hoped they would reject his plan. “Perhaps I was hasty,” he said, “in promising to go to-night.”

One or two of his companions snickered.

“There isn’t time to get well started before dark. But to-morrow evening.”

“Don’t hurry yourself,” said Agamemnon. “If I know the ship’s carpenter, the horse won’t be ready.”

The next evening Odysseus was in Troy, talking with Helen.

He had gone around and entered by the eastern gate, disguised as one of the neutral merchants who at the moment were doing a heavy trade with the wealthier families among the besieged, buying superfluous rugs and objects of art in exchange for food. He wore a shabby coat, he had cut off his flowing hair, he had reduced his splendid beard to a state suggesting that he hadn’t been shaved for a week. In short, he looked like a rug merchant, of the poorer and more persistent sort. The one weapon he carried, a sharp knife, was gracefully disposed under his left arm, where it wouldn’t show.

He had accumulated several articles of value, and had got rid of all the food Agamemnon had been willing to invest, but as yet he had learned nothing about the city gates. Discouraged, he sat down on the steps of the nearest porch. It was a fine house, but he didn’t care. He wished he had eaten some of the good things now represented by the heavy bundle of rugs at his feet. Hunger told on him more than danger.

A very beautiful girl stuck her head out the door.

“You’ll have to move on, or I’ll call the janitor.”

“Young woman, the janitor isn’t necessary. If you could provide me with a modest sandwich or two, as any wayfarer has the right to expect of a well-mannered household——”

“Our manners are as they should be, but we have no sandwiches. You move on!”

She was quite outside the door, menacing but altogether charming. Odysseus appraised her figure with the eye of a connoisseur. In two or three years, when she should be a bit more mature——

“You move on, I say! I don’t like your looks at all!”

Odysseus adjusted the rugs and leaned against them, ready for intimate conversation.

“Young woman, I suspect this house does not belong to you. If you’ll ask the true owner to step out here, I’d like a word with him. Or, as the case may he, with her.”

The girl’s eyes narrowed.

“You suspect it doesn’t belong to me, do you? Do you know what I suspect? I suspect you’re a spy. You’d better move on before I call the police. The last one they caught didn’t enjoy himself.”

“Didn’t he?” Odysseus was trying to keep his voice easy and nonchalant. “Of course he wouldn’t. They killed him, naturally.”

“It came to that, in the end.” She implied something very bad.

“Served him right! We can’t have spies coming in here.” His throat was a little dry.

“I suppose not,” said the girl, softening, “but I don’t see why we must be so cruel.”

“Oh, was it cruel?”

“Was it! I didn’t see it done myself. They stuck a sharp stake up through him, and planted it in the ground. They say his wrigglings were unusually protracted.”

Odysseus was very angry.

“That’s what you’d expect of barbarians! We cut throats when it’s necessary, but we don’t torture!”

Her eyes narrowed again, and she backed toward the door.

“We don’t, don’t we? Who’s ‘we’?”

“I come from a remote people, toward the East,” said Odysseus. “If I say it myself, a civilized people, given to the arts rather than to war.”

“Are you all beggars?”

He was thinking up a disarming answer, when a strong rough-looking man, a servant probably, pushed out of the house behind the girl.

“What’s going on here, Adraste?”

“It’s a Greek spy, just dropping in for a little talk with the owner of the house. And before he betrays the city, he’d like a sandwich.”

The man laughed and walked over toward Odysseus.

“Where do you come from?”

“From the East. As the young woman knows perfectly, I’m a rug dealer. Don’t you folks let an innocent traveler rest a moment on the door-step? She’s been trying to scare me out of it.”

The man looked him over.

“You talk like a Greek,” he said, “but the evil state of your person suggests descent from rug dealers. If you are now sufficiently rested, would you mind getting off our porch? You are no ornament.”

Odysseus rose slowly, as he had seen beggars do.

“My Greek accent,” he said, “I picked up in that country on business trips before the war. They are in the wrong now, of course; if I weren’t loyal to Troy, I wouldn’t be here at this minute. But your inhospitality compels me to say that no Greek ever treated me so badly. You might learn from them.”

“From who? Those fellows who’ve been trying for ten years to get in here? Agamemnon’s an ass.”

“There’s something in that,” said Odysseus. “He’s overrated.”

“And Menelaos is worse, by all accounts.”

“Oh, you can’t trust gossip. Menelaos has his points.”

The man sat down on the step beside him, and Odysseus decided to stay a while longer. The girl leaned against the door, listening.

“When you used to visit Greece, before the war, did you ever see those two?”

“Often. We were——”

He was about to add “old friends,” but remembered just in time.

“Well, there may be something to them, but what I’d like to know is, why that rascal Odysseus attacked us. He must have a pretty mean streak in him.”

“On the contrary,” said Odysseus. “It has often occurred to me that he has more brains than all his allies put together. Certainly a gifted man, and one of the few who take part in this war for high-minded reasons. The motives of the others are, I understand, selfish.”

“I see,” said the man, “you don’t know much about them, after all. Odysseus is nothing but a chatterer. Talks all the time. Never did a brave thing in his life.”

“Again I disagree,” said Odysseus. “He has great abilities. What we need is some one like him on the Trojan side.”

“All right—you can have his job.”

The man moved a little closer to Odysseus, and took hold of his wrist. “Adraste, you may call the police. You guessed right—this fellow’s a spy!”

Odysseus thought fast.

“Call the whole force, whenever you like.” He fancied his tone sounded mildly amused. When the man looked the other way, he would get out the hidden knife.

“We shan’t need the whole force—one or two will be enough, Adraste.”

The girl departed down the street, in no unseemly haste. Odysseus watched her for a moment. When he gave his attention again to his captor, he was shocked to see his knife in the fellow’s hand. The man was disgustingly pleased with himself.

“Now we’ll just sit here quietly,” he said, “until they come to take you.”

“Rest is what I need,” said Odysseus, “but if I’m not mistaken, you have helped yourself to my property. That knife is of no intrinsic value, but it has sentimental associations. My father, an old man, gave it to me when I went in business. I carry it for his sake.”

The man handled the weapon with respect, testing the point and running his thumb along the blade.

“Your sentiment,” he said, “has quite an edge on it.”

Odysseus dropped the subject. He wondered whether it would be worth while to try bribery.

“Have you noticed my rugs? There are several in that bundle which money couldn’t buy. Let me show you.”

He stooped down to unroll them, but the man wasn’t interested. In fact he laid the point of the knife very neatly against Odysseus’ ribs.

“Sit up straight there! We’ll examine your plunder later. The owners have probably sent in descriptions of it already.”

“I didn’t steal it!” said Odysseus.

“My mistake! No doubt they made you a present of it.”

They watched each other through another silence.

“By the way,” said Odysseus, “this is a very nice house you have.”

“We’ll always remember that it had your approval,” said the fellow.

“It’s yours, of course?”

“In the same sense as the city’s yours. You’re a captive, and I’m a slave.”

Odysseus saw a line to develop.

“I didn’t realize we were in the same boat. From your appearance I thought——”

“Yes you did!” sneered the man.

“I suppose,” said Odysseus, “you’d be glad to run away, if you had a good chance and a little aid?”

“You suppose wrong. I’ve a good berth.”

A second later he wished he had drawn Odysseus out.

“Supposing I did want to run, what then?”

His tone was too crafty.

“Oh, nothing,” said Odysseus. “I was just feeling sorry for you.”

The man grunted. A long minute went by.

“Who does own the house, if you don’t?”

“I like your nerve—as though you didn’t know!”

“My word of honor, I don’t!”

“You must be one of those Greek orators,” said the man. “What’s the use of lying when I can see through you?”

Odysseus put on his most offended dignity.

“When I report your conduct to the Court,” he began, “the Trojan judges, for whom I have the greatest respect, will——”

“They’ll never lay eyes on you. We dispose of spies automatically.”

They watched each other again.

“That charming young woman,” said Odysseus, “whose name I didn’t catch, must have gone for a long walk. Or perhaps the police force is occupied elsewhere this evening?”

The man was a little worried.

“They should be here by now ... she ought to have found one of them on the next block.”

“Oh, that’s the kind of force you have, is it?” said Odysseus. “Ah, there they come!”

He pointed down the street, and the man stretched his neck to see. Odysseus helped himself to his knife.

“Where’d you say? I can’t make out a sign of them.”

Odysseus rose nimbly to his feet.

“On second thought, my friend, neither can I. If you’ll move off a few paces, I’ll pick up my bundle. When the young woman arrives, please convey to her my admiring regard.”

The man started up, pugnacious, but Odysseus had him by the throat, with the point of the knife under his chin.

“One word out of you, and in it goes! Swear to keep still, or I’ll skin you alive the next time I come! ... Nod your head!”

The choking man nodded his head, and Odysseus permitted him the use of his windpipe.

“Now you may go indoors and stay there for half an hour. After that, make all the noise you like.”

He turned to pick up his bundle, but the man had no intention of letting him get away.

“Help! Sp——”

The vowel in the last word died into a groan as Odysseus got his thumb on the windpipe again.

“What’s all this?” said a singularly appealing voice. Odysseus turned and looked at the most beautiful woman in the world. He recognized her at once. Desperately he hoped his disguise was perfect. With her came the girl.

“This fellow is a Greek spy, madam. I sent Adraste for the police.”

“So she said. I thought I’d look at him. Now we’ll all go in, before the neighbors join us.”

She went through the door first, and the girl next. Odysseus insisted that the man precede him. In fact, he had some idea of not following at all. Helen noticed the pantomime.

“Both of you come, and stop that nonsense!”

Odysseus entered, and the slave ostentatiously bolted the door.

“Now,” said Helen, “why do you think he’s a Greek spy?”

The slave testified eagerly.

“He came here armed—he has a sharp knife on him—and he knows the Greeks personally. You should hear what he said about Agamemnon and Men——”

He stopped embarrassed. Helen was amused. She turned to Odysseus.

“So you have the pleasure of knowing my first husband?”

“No, madam. I am a humble rug merchant from the East. But before the war I had the honor to display some of my wares for sale in your husband’s house, in Sparta.”

“Did he buy any?”

Odysseus saw a trap.

“Madam, I regret to say he did not.”

Helen thought a moment.

“Was I there at the time, or was it after I had left?”

Again he suspected a snare.

“Madam, the date of your leaving is not known to me.”

Helen shook her head.

“It must have been afterward. If I had been there, he would have bought one. I’ve always had a weakness for rugs. You came at a bad moment, when he was breaking up housekeeping.”

The slave interrupted.

“Madam, this fellow is a spy. Why don’t you hand him over to the city at once? Your life may not be safe with him.”

Helen laughed.

“Are you a spy?” she said. “You do look awful enough to be anything.”

“Madam, I’m a rug merchant. In the matter of looks, I confess I don’t qualify as a member of this household.” He made a rather courtly bow toward the slave.

Helen gazed at him with sudden keenness. That last remark of his was a mistake.

“In your travels, did you ever meet Odysseus?”

With the girl and the slave listening, he couldn’t say no.

“Once or twice, madam, very casually.”

“That man is a puzzle,” she said. “What quarrel had he with Troy? He cared nothing for me.”

She paused, but he declined to comment.

“I’m afraid he’s a cheap adventurer—wouldn’t you say?”

“Madam, you may know him—I don’t.”

“Why, you stood up for him, a while ago,” cried the slave. “You said he had abilities!”

Odysseus appeared to be racking his memory.

“I don’t place the reference. He may have abilities. I don’t know him well enough to be sure.”

Helen put an end to the debate.

“I wish a word with this man in private. You two may wait here in the hall.... Come.”

Odysseus followed her into an inner room—her boudoir, he assumed, but in so fine a house he wasn’t sure. She made herself comfortable on a divan. He stood respectfully before her. Slowly she began to smile.

“Why are you here, Odysseus?”

“I am a simple merchant from the East,” he began.

“Don’t be frightened,” she said. “I know who you are.”

He took a convenient seat near by. His legs were weak.

“Well,” he said, “I’ll tell the truth, to save time. I’m trying to find out how to unlock the city gates.”

“They don’t unlock from the outside.”

“Exactly. I want to know how to unlock them from the inside.”

She was puzzled. He hastened to explain.

“The war’s about over. A few of us are coming in, some night before long, and we’ll open the gates for the others. I’m making the arrangements now.”

“How will the first of you get in?”

“That’s the secret.”

“When’s it to be?”

“That’s a secret, too. You shouldn’t expect me to tell.”

“I just wanted to be ready,” said Helen. “It can’t happen too soon.”

He looked surprised. “Your husband won’t treat you well, when he gets his hands on you.”

She smiled, unembarrassed, so far as he could see, and unafraid.

“He will kill me. That, too, can’t happen too soon.”

“You seem rather low in your spirits,” said Odysseus. “We thought you were enjoying Troy.”

“You know how it is,” said Helen, “after you become used to a place. Until Paris died it wasn’t so bad, but now they think of nothing but the war. It gets on your nerves.”

Her manner was confidential. Odysseus forgot that he was a spy, in peril.

“I never thought much of the Trojans myself,” he said. “Humdrum characters, most of them. Paris was an exception.”

“I don’t know—when you came to know him, he wasn’t so different.”

Odysseus watched her for a moment. She really was more beautiful than ever. It wasn’t simply her face or her queenly body, those eyes and those lips, that graceful neck Menelaos had once called swanlike, that astounding bosom, those long white arms and legs—there was something besides, an energy within her, a sense of upwelling life.... He didn’t care how long he talked with her.

“Odysseus,” she said, “is my husband determined to kill me?”

“I’m afraid he is.”

She didn’t show much concern—she had asked as though to verify the weather.

“Then he ought to come soon. The fighting does no good. I’m sorry to see so many people die.”

“Oh, it isn’t your fault, not entirely,” said Odysseus. “There would have been a war anyway. You just happened to be the cause.”

For the first time she seemed annoyed.

“On the contrary, if I weren’t here, they wouldn’t fight another minute. That’s why I ought to give myself up.”

“You’re wrong,” he said. “No one ever appreciates a sacrifice of that sort. A war has to be fought to a finish, no matter how casual the origin of it.”

She looked at him hard.

“You’re an interesting man. Do you know, you’re the only one who never, at any time, thought well of me.”

“But I did. I do.” His eyes took in her whole appearance. “I do at this very minute.”

“No, you were always complimentary, but I guessed what you really thought.”

“I wonder if you did!” He was rather proud of this remark, it sounded so well without committing him to anything.

She smiled. He asked himself what she was leading up to.

“Odysseus, I know exactly what you thought. You classed me among all the other women you know, as a pleasant amusement when you are in the mood for that sort of thing. Nothing to lose your heart to or to die for.”

She looked her most radiant, and he fished around in his mind for an appropriate tribute. She recognized the effort.

“No, you probably had a delicious quickening of the pulse when you talked with Adraste, a few minutes ago—and if I cared to flirt with you now, you’d like that too. That’s what you think of me. But I can’t understand why, feeling no more deeply, you came to Troy.”

“It’s a long story,” he said. “I shan’t bother you with it now. Some other time, perhaps——”

“There’ll be no other time. Menelaos will kill me.”

“That’s true. I’d forgotten your husband. Well, you can be sure of one thing, I didn’t come out of any hostility to you.”

“Of course not. You don’t care one way or the other.”

He couldn’t help looking at her, and the impression was unavoidable that she was trying to make some sort of effect on him; her manner of disposing herself on the divan was really too luscious. Perhaps she hoped to seduce him. From all that he’d ever heard of her, he would have thought it probable, except that it didn’t seem exactly the time or the place. He regretted that they had met when he was busy being a spy.

“You don’t care—do you?”

He tried to return her gaze without feeling susceptible.

“Well,—you know how beautiful you are, Helen,—and I won’t pretend I’m not a man.”

Her eyes now were deeply thoughtful. This wasn’t flirtation—the woman was in earnest.

“Odysseus, do you care enough to do me a great favor? I’ve no right to ask it of you, but you could do it better than any one else.”

“What is it?” He wanted to be sure first.

“Take a message to my husband. You can tell it in the proper words. The other spies who have come in here were all a bit vulgar—I couldn’t trust them with my personal affairs. Tell Menelaos the war can stop. I’m ready to surrender. He can do what he likes with me. If he’ll send a herald over to-morrow, offering to take the army back to Greece on condition that the Trojans give me up, I’ll tell the people here not to fight any more. I’ll go back with the herald, and you can start for home to-morrow night.”

He felt his spirits sink. She really wasn’t going to flirt with him. Besides—what about the wooden horse? Was she going to monopolize all the credit for this war—for stopping as well as for starting it?

“I’d like to do any favor in reason, but this isn’t so simple as you make it. The Trojans have an account to settle, aside from you. If you want to, you can surrender yourself—it’s one way of committing suicide. But we’re going to punish the city.”

She wasn’t impressed. He wished she wouldn’t look as though she knew so much.

“Odysseus, the Trojans have spies, too. They have good reason to believe that if Troy offered to give me up, on just these terms, my husband and my brother-in-law would jump at the chance. In fact, the city council has voted to make the offer. I’d rather surrender myself than be turned out that way. If you’ll take my message, I can go to my death with a little dignity—that’s the only difference. Otherwise it comes to the same thing.”

“When do they expect to make the offer?”

“It depends. They voted to do it at once. I got Priam to agree to wait till next Monday. Sunday’s the anniversary.”

“Of what?”

“I knew you wouldn’t remember. Of our wedding, of course—Paris’s and mine.”

“What’s that got to do with it?”

“I made Priam understand that I’d like to visit Paris’s grave, for the last time.”

She sounded so cheerful about it that he had to grin, and she smiled back, completely frank. He made a calculation.

“Couldn’t you visit the cemetery two or three times, and delay the offer till Wednesday?”

She shook her head.

“I tried, but Monday’s the latest.”

“Then I can’t do anything for you. That is, I can’t take your message. But I suspect we shan’t accept the offer now—it’s too late.”

“You mean, my husband won’t.”

“On this subject, Helen, I’ll have to vote with him.”

“Oh, no, you won’t!” She walked gracefully but quickly toward the door. “On Sunday, for the sake of old times, I’ll bring flowers for you too.”

She turned to give him a last chance. He steadied his nerve and got his wits together.

“If we could talk this out a bit further, Helen——”

“No. You do what I ask, or the police will have you.”

“Helen, give me five minutes to explain. I know what I’m about. If you listen to me, you won’t have to surrender, and the Trojans won’t give you up!”

She came back toward him and stood waiting.

“It all depends on the wooden horse.”

“The which?”

“In a day or so you’ll see a monumental horse outside the walls. When it appears, the Greeks will be gone. The Trojans will no doubt bring the thing into the city. It will be suitable for any of the larger temples.... Well, that’s about all. The war will be over, and you can go where you please. Isn’t that better than being executed by your husband?”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“If I recall your first remarks, a few of you are coming in, some night before long, to open the gates for the others. You’re making the arrangements now. All you need is to find out how the gates are unlocked from the inside!”

He flung himself on his knees before her.

“Helen! Kill me if you want to—afterward—but give me a chance with the wooden horse! It’s the climax to my career! You’ve no idea the thought I’ve put on it! If you spoil it now—well, I might just as well never have come to Troy!”

She laughed, but she didn’t open the door. He took courage from her delay.

“You’re like all the other men. The largest part of you is vanity. What are a few lives, more or less, compared with the success of your silly stratagem? You can end the war with a word, but you prefer to risk your neck to prove yourself an inventor! I’m sorry. I can’t countenance any more slaughter. You’ll have to do as I say.”

“That’s your last word, is it?”

“Don’t you know it is? You’re in my power, man. I can deliver you to the Trojans now, and get some credit for doing it, or I can take you to the gate, show you how to unlock it, let you go back to the fleet, wait till the horse is brought in, and then tell the public what’s inside it. You see?”

“You might,” he said, “and no doubt you’re planning to betray us, one way or another, but you’re not the only person endowed with wits. There’s more than one way to——”

He didn’t finish the sentence. The slave stuck his head in the door.

“Has anything happened, madam? I was worried about you, alone with that fellow. The city won’t understand your talking so long with a spy.”

“Look here,” said Odysseus, “you’re too insolent this time! Insult me all you like—I’m only a helpless stranger. But if you try it on this kind lady, you’ll make me angry!”

“Madam,” said the fellow, “with your permission, I’ll now call the——”

“You’ll do nothing of the kind,” said Helen. “You’ve made a mistake. This is an ignorant but harmless barbarian, who sold rugs in better days.”

“That’s true enough,” said Odysseus, “but your slave is right—we need the police. Call them, you!”

The man couldn’t believe his ears.

“Call them! Your mistress and I have evolved a happy method of ending the war. She’s going to elope with me.”

The man looked at Helen, then at Odysseus, then tapped his forehead significantly.

“Of course,” said Helen. “You should have recognized the symptoms earlier. Wait just outside the door, in case he becomes violent.”

The man retired. Helen and Odysseus looked at each other. He was pleased with himself.

“As I was going to say, when he interrupted us, there’s more than one way to use your wits. When the police arrive, they will find you talking to Odysseus, who has spent all his powers of persuasion to show you that you ought to surrender yourself and end the slaughter. You don’t see it that way, but if the Trojan council will commit you to his care, he will escort you back to the ships, and will guarantee the departure of the Greeks. Not a bad day’s work. Less picturesque than the horse, but perhaps even more memorable.”

He thrust his thumbs into the armholes of his coat.

“Well?” she said.

“Well?” He imitated her tone. She made a gesture of resignation.

“I see it’s no use,” she said. “You are a little crazy, Odysseus. But perhaps I am, too, trying to control fate. You may do what you please. You may now leave my house and go where you like—or where destiny permits. As to what happens to me, I’ll wait and see.”

“You won’t give away my secret?”

“There’s no promise between us, none on either side. You take your chance, I’ll take mine.”

“If you’d go so far as to swear not to interfere with the horse——”

“If you’ll take my message to my husband——”

He considered a moment.

“Is there a side door? I’ll try the street.”

She called the man.

“Take this beggar to the porch where you found him, and let him go.”

In the early morning Odysseus told the council all about it, before breakfast.

“I think I can find the gate,” he said.

“But do you know how to unlock it from the inside?” said Agamemnon.

“Certainly.” Nothing was going to stand between him and his experiment. He’d find out about the locks, somehow.

“Well,” said Agamemnon grudgingly, “I really didn’t expect to see you again.”

“Oh, it was easy enough. The city is demoralized. By the way, Menelaos, I met your wife. She’s looking awfully well.”

Menelaos withheld comment.

“If you talked with her, by any chance,” said Agamemnon, “she probably knows all about the horse.”

“Not a thing,” said Odysseus. “She’s up to her old tricks. While I was buying one of her rugs, if you’ll believe it, she made love to me!”