Defying Fate

Chapter 2-p2-The Horse

By the time Odysseus reached the main force of the army, everyone was already in place. A hand-picked team selected from Diomedes' men was already inside the horse, armed to the teeth and ready to strike.

Odysseus had debated being inside the horse with them. There was a high chance that he'd be recognized from the stunt he had pulled some weeks back, where he'd disguised himself as a prisoner of war and infiltrated the city, but he couldn't think of anyone else to do this specific part. The memorization required and various contingency plans were just too much to lay on another man.

He shed his armor, borrowed from his father Laertes, it still didn't *quite* fit, even after so long at war and so many small modifications and repairs. Odysseus handed it off to a slave, who would run it to his ship for safekeeping. His sword and shield went into their slots, and Agamemnon himself handed him the lead rope, and the white flag of truce.

"Don't mess this up, Odysseus," the leader of the army growled. He'd never been particularly fond of Odysseus, and ten years sharing a war camp had not warmed him at all.

"You know me," Odysseus smiled, his voice full of thinly disguised contempt. "I always get the job done somehow."

Agamemnon glared at him, then nodded. The entire contraption began to move, as the team of soldiers, disguised as slaves, began to pull the "gift" up the hill to Troy's main gate.

Troy had once been the shining jewel on the straight from the Black Sea to the Ionian Sea. It was the gateway to the Mediterranean, and it had grown rich and fat over the generations of trade with the Eastern steppes and Southern deserts, and all the peoples on the eastern Mediterranean.

Now, its walls were battle-scarred, dented by catapulted boulders, and stained with smoke and blood. In the fading light of the sunset, the very highest point of the city was still lit by red sunlight. The lower parts were lit now by torches, though none showed over the walls. They'd grown wary over the years. Lights on the wall helped you *feel* safe, but really, they just made good marks for archers and limited your vision at night.

In front of Odysseus was the gate. Solid wood, nearly 30 feet high and 20 across, and studded with iron, they were both a symbol of wealth and an imposing barrier. No one had managed yet to breach this gate. Though yes, Odysseus had snuck in once or twice... it wasn't the same as breaking it open like a chicken's egg.

The men grew restless as he stared at the gate, and he realized he'd taken too long. Clearing his throat, he shouted, "Ahoy the gate!"

Arrows rained down and everyone ran for cover. Odysseus ducked behind one of the legs of the horse, narrowly missed by arrows skimming past his face and arms. He swore but waved the flag enthusiastically.

"We surrender!" He cried. "We bring a gift of peace!"

The arrows slowed... then stopped. Odysseus drew in his arm and noticed an arrow hole right in the center of his flag. The archer had either been very lucky, or a very good shot. He frowned at the hole as a voice called out from the top of the gate.

"Why should we believe you when your best 'hero' dragged our prince's body through the streets, denying him a proper burial? You've desecrated our dead and dishonored our city. Your people will be the sworn enemies of Troy forever! Our children's children will learn to hate yours! There can be no peace between us, Achean."

It was a good speech, Odysseus had to give him that, but spoken with a shaking voice. Odysseus took a chance, and stepped back into view, holding his flag up high.

"You killed the one who killed your prince. He lies dead and buried far from his home. Many of our mightiest heroes have died on this battlefield before your city, and we no longer have the resources to stand against you." Odysseus carefully enunciated every word, putting weight and emphasis on his point, willing the man at the top of the gates to believe him. He even cried a little. "Troy has stood strong for ten years, and we know now that we can't win. We've spent the last week constructing this gift for your kingdom. Take it, display it, burn it, it is yours to do with what you will. We only wish to return to our homes with what we have left."