Terrible noises came from the city. Screaming people. Terrified livestock. The seemingly never-ending crash of collapsing buildings as the topless towers of Ilium swayed and fell. And then, over everything, an almighty rumbling that swelled in intensity until we couldn’t hear ourselves shout.
Already on the ground anyway, I curled into a ball, protected my head, and, like everyone else in Troy, endured as best I could. This was how I always imagined the end of the world.
The earth gave one last shudder and was still.
No one moved. I could still hear things clattering to the ground around us. And then – if you discounted all the screaming – everything was quiet …
I uncurled and brushed dust, dirt, and debris from my tunic.
People nearby were pulling themselves and each other to their feet. Injuries were miraculously few. Schiller had sprained a wrist as she fell. Markham now had several new cuts and bruises to add to his almost permanent collection.
I coughed and spat dust.
‘Chief, please run a full check on all the pods.’
He nodded, rubbed dust, and God knows what from his hair and stepped into Number Three.
‘Miss Van Owen, How are things with you?’
‘Astonishingly, we’re fine. A bit dusty and knocked about, but yes, we’re OK.’ She moved on to matters we both considered much more important. ‘Max, you’ve got to get up here. It’s gone. Completely gone.’
‘What has? What’s gone?’
‘The Scaean Gate. It’s completely demolished. And its fall has brought down the sections of wall on either side. There’s nothing left but rubble. There’s massive damage to the upper city too – the western part of the palace has collapsed. The statue of Athena has fallen. The big tower is down and it’s damaged the cistern. There’s water everywhere. Fires are breaking out all over. You have to get more people up here now. Just a minute. What?’
I could hear shouted voices in the background.
‘Say that again. What? Oh, my God!’
‘What?’ I shouted, very nearly beside myself. ‘What’s happening? Report.’
‘Max, there are ships approaching. Hundreds of them. It’s the Black Ships. The Greeks are coming back.’
Of course they would. The probably turned back yesterday, after the first earthquake. With the possibility of tidal waves, they would seek a safe harbour and this was the nearest.
‘How long?’
‘Before they get here? Maybe half an hour or a little longer. They’re riding the waves and the wind is behind them.’
‘Your priority is keeping your people safe,’ I said. ‘But I want as much of this as possible.’
‘You’ve got it,’ she said, calmly and closed the link.
I deployed everyone. Leon to stay with the pods. Schiller, bandaged but functioning, Guthrie, and Peterson to the Scaean Gate to cover the Greek landing. Markham, Prentiss, and me to the citadel.
‘We have less than thirty minutes. As soon as the Greeks land – get back to your pods. That goes for historians, too. I don’t care if you discover that Agamemnon was a woman and Helen has been shacked up with Odysseus these last ten years. As soon as the first Greek sets foot on Trojan soil – you move. Understood?’
They nodded and we scattered.
Leon caught my tunic as I passed. ‘For God’s sake, be careful.’
A bit like telling water to flow uphill, but I nodded anyway. I was in such a hurry that I don’t think I even took the trouble to look at him properly.
The trumpets sounded as we set off. First one, then others took up the call.
All over the city, they were calling out the men to fight. Any man. Every man.
I saw young boys with swords as big as they were. Everyone had a cudgel of some kind. Women snatched up their children and locked them in cellars or hid them in outhouses, standing guard outside with hastily snatched up household implements.
All of Troy was arming itself. To defend themselves and their homes. It wouldn’t do them the slightest bit of good.
My heart bled for them. A ten-year war. Sickness. Earthquake. Devastation. And now they were defenceless and the Greeks were back. Truly, the gods had deserted them this day.
This would not be the glorious victory or heroic defeat of legend. This would be a slaughter. Too weak to resist, taken unawares, feeble with hunger and sickness, they stood no chance at all. It was as if all the Horsemen of the Apocalypse had gathered here today in this one spot, to oversee the razing of that most powerful of cities – Troy.
We pushed our way through the crowds of screaming people. Many buildings were still upright or partially so, but the street patterns had disappeared under the rubble.
We scrambled over the wreckage of people’s lives.
The Dardanian Gate was unguarded. Soldiers had more important things to do. We entered the citadel, where the panic was no less widespread than in the lower part of the city.
Men ran past on their way to what was left of the walls. Fires bloomed everywhere. Ash and dust floated on the wind.