‘I didn’t meant that bow,’ he explained to Telamon and Oicles as they made their way back to their ship.
‘You didn’t mean it?’
‘It was a sarcastic bow.’
‘Ah,’ said Telamon, ‘I did wonder.’
‘Dear me, how uncouth these Greeks are,’ said Laomedon, watching from the high walls of his city as Heracles’ ship hoisted her sails and glided away. ‘No manners, no style, no address …’
Hesione looked on the departing ship with some regret. She had liked Heracles and was quite certain in her mind that no matter what her father might say he truly had saved her life. His friend Telamon too was most polite and charming. Nor was he unbecoming to look at. She looked down at her lap and sighed.
HERACLES’ RETURN
King EURYSTHEUS of Mycenae and King Laomedon of Troy were cut from the same shabby cloth. Just as Laomedon had reneged on his deal with Heracles, so now did Eurystheus. On his return from Troy, Heracles undertook his Tenth (and, as he thought, final) Labour – the transportation across the Mediterranean world of the monster Geryon’s enormous herd of red cattle – only to be told by Eurystheus that two of the earlier Labours he had completed would not be counted, and that the ten must now become twelve.fn5 Thus it was that three full years passed before Heracles found himself free from bondage and able to turn his attention to the matter of King Laomedon’s treachery, a grievance that had only grown and festered with time.
He raised a volunteer army and sailed a flotilla of eighteen penteconters, fifty-oared vessels, across the Aegean. At the port of Ilium he left Oicles in charge of the ships and reserve troops and set out with Telamon and the larger part of his army to confront Laomedon. The wily Trojan king had been alerted by scouts to the arrival of the Greeks and managed to outmanoeuvre Heracles, leaving the city of Troy and wheeling round behind to attack Oicles and the ships. By the time Heracles had discovered what was happening, Oicles and the reserves had all been killed and Laomedon’s forces were safely back behind the walls of Troy, preparing themselves for a long siege.
In the end Telamon broke through one of the gates and the Greeks poured in. They hacked their way mercilessly through to the palace. Heracles, a little behind, came through the breach in the wall and heard his men cheering Telamon.
‘Surely he is the greatest warrior of them all!’
‘Hail Telamon, our general!’
This was more than Heracles could bear. One of his red mists descended. Roaring in fury, he stormed through to find and kill his deputy.
Telamon, at the head of his troops, was about to enter Laomedon’s palace when he heard the commotion behind him. Knowing his friend and the terrifying effects of his jealous rages, he immediately set about gathering stones. He was in the act of building them up, one above the other, when a panting Heracles reached him, club raised.
‘Sh!’ said Telamon. ‘Not now. I’m busy building an altar.’
‘An altar? Who to?’
‘Why, to you, of course. To Heracles. To commemorate your rescue of Hesione, your breaking of the siege of Troy, your mastery of men, monsters, and the mechanics of war.’
‘Oh.’ Heracles lowered his club. ‘Well, that’s good of you. Very good. I … yes, very considerate. Very proper.’
‘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!’