Troy. A city with a
long and vibrant history that stands upon the banks of the Scamander River.
It controls access to the Straits of the Bosphorus and King Priam extorts
tribute from all who pass. The Trojans grow rich and powerful and their
arm stretches its shadow into the Aegean Sea, into the seat of power of
the squabbling Greek kings and their constantly-shifting mesh of
alliances. So it was that Paris, Prince of Troy, ventured into the East
and was welcomed with guest-right by Menelaus, King of Sparta, who had won
the hand (but some say not the heart) of the fair Helen, the most
beautiful, ‘gainst many a noble suitor. So it was that Paris fled Greece,
taking with him she whose face brought longing to every warrior’s heart.
Heralds demanded her return lest there be war yet they returned
empty-handed. That much is known.
wife-stealer, the thief, the breaker of guest-right – so says Menelaus and
his brother, King Agamemnon of Mycenae. A man will fight for honour and
for beauty when he will not fight for matters of trade. Such things
inspire a warrior born. Yet there are whispers that Helen did not resist
“Troy will fall! Zeus
has decreed it shall be so!” Claims Calchas, the renegade, a Trojan who
has turned his back on his own people. The Greeks heed the words of the
High Priest and put aside their differences. They gather – aged Nestor of
Pylos, Castor and Pollux, Ajax, and many others, even Odysseus of Ithaca
who had sworn not to leave his wife and new-born babe. The whisper sounds
in the ears of all those who have the wit to hear it: “The Greeks are
And so they come to
Troy. And they stay. A wooden palisade around their ships. Their homes.
Their lives. Warriors die in their thousands, their blood soaking into the
sand until the very waters of the Scamander run red. But the walls of Troy
are stout and firm. Nine years have passed and all men weary, sooner or
later. Single combat is proposed to break the deadlock: Menelaus and Paris,
man to man. One warrior’s life hangs in the balance to determine all. Yet
it is not to be. As Menelaus knocks the Trojan prince’s helmet from his
head with a ringing blow, from somewhere an arrow flies and the Spartan is
wounded. A sandstorm blows out of nowhere and the combatants make their
escape. The siege continues…
Tensions run high.
There are rumours of dissent among the ranks. Accusations of betrayal have
begun to circulate. Hector, Prince of Troy, is too well-placed to repulse
the Greek attack. He defies all and none can withstand him. Is there a
traitor among the Greek councils of war? Does Athene protect the city? Do
the Trojans utilise black, magical arts to thwart their enemies? Even
Achilles, most vaunted of heroes, lies dead at Hector's hand and his
armour, crafted by the artificer-god Haephestus, stripped from his body. A
truce is called. A Hero has fallen. It is only right and proper that he be
mourned by Greek and Trojan alike. There will be games and contests of
skill and strength in honour of his name.
Emboldened by the
peace, names of legend have come to the Trojan plain to pitch their might
against the best: Heracles, Theseus, Jason, Penthesilia of the Amazons to
name but few. Priests now flock to Troy to spread word of their religion
and observe the spectacle. Kings have gathered to determine whether to
pitch their weight behind the combatants for it is certain that the spoils
garnered by the victors will be great indeed. Rumours spread of secret
conferences, debate and acrimony.
It is the tenth year
of the siege of Troy. Greek morale can endure no more. This year Troy will
fall or the Greeks will crumble, fragment and be destroyed. The Fates are
measuring each man’s lifespan and who can say who will be found wanting…