‘Least I could do.’
Arm in arm the pair ascended the steps of the royal palace of Troy.
The slaughter that followed was terrible. Laomedon, his wife and all their sons were killed – that is to say, all their sons but the youngest, whose name was PODARCES. His salvation came about in unusual fashion.
Heracles, his club and sword dripping with the blood of half the royal line of Troy, found himself in Hesione’s bedchamber. The princess was kneeling on the floor. She spoke very calmly.
‘Take my life, so that I may join my father and my brothers.’
Heracles was in the act of complying with her wishes when Telamon came into the room. ‘No! Not Hesione!’
Heracles turned in some surprise. ‘Why not?’
‘You saved her life once. Why take it now? Besides, she is beautiful.’
Heracles understood. ‘Take her. She’s yours to do with as you please.’
‘If she will have me,’ said Telamon, ‘I will take her back home, to Salamis, to be my bride.’
‘But you have a wife,’ said Heracles.
Just then a sound from under the bed caught his ear.
‘Come out, come out!’ he called, stabbing there with his sword.
A young boy emerged, covered in dust. He rose up to what full dignified height he could manage.
‘If I must die, then I do so willingly as a proud prince of Troy,’ he said, and then ruined the noble effect with a sneeze.
‘How many sons did the man have?’ said Heracles, raising the sword once more.
Hesione cried out and pulled at Telamon’s arm. ‘Not Podarces! He’s so young. Please, Lord Heracles, I beg you.’
Heracles was not to be persuaded. ‘He may be young, but he is his father’s son. A harmless boy can soon grow into a powerful enemy.’
‘Let me buy his freedom,’ urged Hesione. ‘I have a veil of gold tissue that they say was once the property of Aphrodite herself. I offer it to you in return for my brother’s life and freedom.’
Heracles was not impressed. ‘I can take it anyway. All of Troy is mine by right of conquest.’
‘With respect, lord, you will never find it. It is lodged in a secret hiding place.’
Telamon nudged Heracles. ‘Worth at least taking a look, don’t you think?’
Heracles grunted his assent and Hesione went over to a tall, intricately carved cabinet that stood beside the bed. Her fingers released a hidden catch at the cabinet’s rear and a drawer slid out from the side. She drew from it a length of gold tissue and passed it to Heracles.
‘Its value cannot be estimated.’
Heracles examined the veil. It was marvellous how the material flowed almost like water through his fingers. He put an enormous hand on the boy’s shoulder.
‘Well, young Podarces, you are lucky that your sister loves you,’ he said, and tucked the veil into his belt. ‘And your sister is lucky that my friend Telamon seems to love her.’
Heracles and his forces left Troy a ruin. The ships of the Trojan navy were commandeered and loaded with all the treasure the Greeks could fit into the holds. Hesione, carried aboard by Telamon, looked back towards the city of her birth. Smoke rose up everywhere, the walls were breached in a dozen places. Troy, once so fine and strong, had been reduced to broken stones and smouldering ashes.
Inside the city, the Trojans picked their way over the corpses and rubble. Their attention was drawn to the sight of a youth, barely more than a boy, standing outside the temple of the Palladium, which had at least been spared. Surely, that was young Prince Podarces?
‘Citizens of Troy,’ the boy shouted. ‘Do not despair!’
‘How come he’s still alive?’
‘I heard he hid under his sister’s bed.’
‘Princess Hesione bought his freedom.’
‘He was bought?’
‘For the price of a golden veil.’
‘Bought!’
‘Yes,’ cried Podarces, ‘I was bought. You may say it was my sister, you may say it was the gods. There is a reason for all things. I, Podarces, of the blood of Tros and Ilus, tell you this. Troy will rise again. We will build her up so that she is finer, richer, stronger and greater than she ever was before. Greater than any city in the world in all mortal history.’
Despite his youth, and the dirt and dust that clung to him, the Trojans could not fail to be impressed by the strength and conviction that rang in his voice.
‘I am not ashamed that my sister bought my freedom,’ he went on. ‘It may be that time will prove me worth the expense. I prophesy that, in buying me, Hesione ransomed Troy itself. For I am Troy. As I grow to manhood so Troy will grow to greatness.’
Ludicrous for one so young to be so self-confident, and yet no one could deny the lad had presence. The Trojans joined Podarces in kneeling down and casting up a prayer to the gods.
So it was that, from that day on, Podarces led his people and directed the rebuilding of their ruined city. He did not mind that everyone now called him ‘the One Who Was Bought’, which in the Trojan language was PRIAM. In time that became his name.
We will leave young Priam, standing proud amongst the ashes and rubble of Troy, and travel over the sea to Greece. Things worth taking note of are happening there.
THE BROTHERS
We left Telamon sailing to Salamis with his new bride Hesione. Telamon and his family play an important enough role in the story of Troy to justify our going back in time to look at their origins. Once again I charge you not to remember every detail, but following these stories – these ‘origin stories’ as we might call them now – is worthwhile and enough will stick in the memory as we go. Besides, they are excellent stories.
Telamon and his brother PELEUS grew up on the island of Aegina, a prosperous naval and commercial power situated in the Saronic Gulf, the bay that lies between the Argolid to the west and Attica, Athens and mainland Greece to the east.fn6 Their father AEACUS, the island’s founder king, was a son of Zeus and Aegina, a water nymph who gave the island its name. The boys grew up in the royal palace as loyally close as brothers can happily be, and as arrogantly entitled as princely grandsons of Zeus can less happily be. Their mother ENDEIS, a daughter of the centaur CHIRON and the nymph Chariclo, doted on them, and a future of comfort and easy power seemed assured. As usual, the Fates had other ideas.
King Aeacus turned away from Endeis and consorted with the sea nymph PSAMATHE, who presented him with a son, PHOCUS. As ageing fathers will, King Aeacus doted on his youngest child, the ‘consolation for my old age’ as he lovingly called him. Phocus grew into a popular and athletic boy, the darling of the palace. Endeis could not abide the role of neglected first wife and became consumed by a jealous hatred of Psamathe and her child, a jealousy shared by the boy’s half-brothers, Telamon and Peleus, now in their early twenties.
‘Look at him, swaggering around the place as if he owned it …’ hissed Endeis, as she and her sons, from behind a column, watched Phocus march down a corridor, making trumpet noises.
‘If father gets his way, he will own it …’ said Telamon.
‘Loathsome little brat …’ muttered Peleus. ‘Someone should teach him a lesson.’
‘We can do more than that,’ said Endeis. She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘Aeacus is planning a pentathlon in honour of Artemis. I think we should persuade little Phocus to enter. Now listen …’