Trojan Horse

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Odysseus, Menelaus and Agamemnon crouched behind the tidal rocks and observed the gates of Troy across the battle-plain. An enormous statue of a horse stood almost within bowshot of Troy's walls. It was a simple affair, unpainted and worked with poor artistry, but at sixty feet tall its scale alone was awe-inspiring. The statue stood on a platform supported by many crude wooden wheels.

"Now what?" grunted Agamemnon, squinting at the city. He was nearsighted and was too proud to admit that he couldn't really see what was going on.

"Now we wait," said Odysseus. He removed the brass tube from his eye and clapped its telescoping bits shut.

"What exactly is that thing?" asked Menelaus.

"It's a spyglass. I invented it," answered Odysseus.

"Oh," said Agamemnon. "What's it do?"

"It's a glass for spying," said the Ithacan. Somehow, via superhuman effort, he kept himself from rolling his eyes. These Achaeans – brave and fierce beyond comparison, but they couldn't think their way out of a papyrus bag.

Agamemnon took the telescope, opened it, and looked through the wrong end. Odysseus turned it around, and the Mycenaean king grunted with surprise. "Ah!" he said, peering everywhere. "So."

"So wait for the Trojans to bring it inside?" asked Menelaus. "And then your men spring out late at night and open the gates to us?"

Odysseus frowned. "Where ever did you get that idea?" he said. "That's not the plan at all. Imagine how dangerous that would be. What if they just burned the stupid thing?"

"Oh," said Menelaus, crestfallen. "I'm afraid I haven't understood exactly what we're doing, then."

Odysseus heaved a sigh. "Well, that's all right," he said. "Let's just watch and see what happens."

They settled down to wait. Odysseus could imagine the Trojans stewing; he could feel their curiosity slowly getting the better of their suspicion. Surely that oaf Laocoon was telling the Trojans no, don't trust Greeks bearing gifts, it's a trap – but Odysseus already knew it wouldn't matter. The Trojans were as thick as the Greeks.

Near sundown Odysseus' prediction came true. The gates of the city opened, and a single wary Trojan came out. He pottered around at the feet of the horse for a moment, then waved to his companions. The gates opened wide, and a crowd of guards came out to examine their prize.

Menelaus frowned. "So if the men don't jump out of the horse," he asked, "how do we gain the city?"

"Men? What men?" asked Odysseus. "There are no men in there."

The horse creaked into motion, bowling over the surprised Trojans and rolling into the city. Hidden gears and pistons whined and groaned audibly, even across the broad battle-plain. The huge horse wheezed into the city, and its head could still be seen over Troy's mighty walls as it ran rampant. A hoarse screaming could be heard too.

Agamemnon had the glass to his eye. "I say," he said, "there are two horses now."

"There can't be," said Menelaus, snatching the glass.

"Sure there can," said Odysseus, smiling.

"How is it possible?" asked Menelaus, peering at two crested horse-heads rumbling back and forth behind Troy's walls. The screaming had gotten louder.

Odysseus shrugged. "That's what a Trojan horse does," he said. "It gets inside the defenses, takes over the organs of the target, and uses them to replicate itself." Sounds of hammering and sawing at an inhumanly high rate of speed reached the ears of the three kings, and then a third and a fourth horse-head could be seen.

The shouting of the Trojans was now intermingled with the crashing of stone and the snapping of wooden beams. One by one the great towers of Troy crashed to the ground. The buildings of the city that were visible above the walls sank out of sight, only to be replaced by horse heads, an entire herd of them, all exactly alike, rolling and buzzing through the rubble of the mighty metropolis. Little by little the sounds of screaming died away, leaving nothing but a milling throng of equestrian automata rumbling within the curtain wall. Even the cloud of dust settled down.

Then the city gates opened again – or, rather, were battered down. The horses rolled out onto the battle plain and struck out in all different directions – some trundling down roads leading to other cities in Asia Minor, others simply heading cross-country into the wasteland. A few headed towards the water's edge.

"What do we do now?" asked Agamemnon.

Odysseus seized back his spyglass. "Run?" he suggested, and sprinted through the surf to the rowboat tied up there.