Trojan Horse: The Shocking Story Behind the Myth
A torrid tale of betrayal, unsung heroism, cheap fixtures, and a secret orifice.
Odysseus, King of Ithaca and Greek hero, was used to leading epic adventures but not epic failures.
“The next time I see that so-called master carpenter I’ll have both his hands!” he vowed. Odysseus was referring to Epeius, the carpenter who built the colossal wooden horse in which the hero and a team of his best warriors were stranded.
On orders from Odysseus, the Greeks had constructed the hollow effigy and left it outside the city of Troy’s impregnable walls. They pretended to abandon their siege of Troy by sailing away. However, the Greek warships merely hid behind a nearby island. Meanwhile, Odysseus and his men lay hidden in the horse’s hollow belly. The overjoyed Trojans assumed that the towering statue was a peace offering to Athena, Goddess of War, and hauled it into their city. The invaders planned to leave their hiding place when darkness fell and open the city gates so the Greek army could pour in and rout the Trojans.
As soon as Nyx, the goddess of night, drew her dark veil across the sky, Odysseus gave his men a rousing pep talk and signaled for the doors in the horse’s belly to be opened. It was then that disaster struck. The wooden doors would not budge. The tide of history was being held back by a door jam. Odysseus was furious. He considered destroying the doors, but the noise would alert the enemy to their presence.
“We need a carpenter. Ideas anyone?” he said.
The men mumbled and avoided eye contact with their illustrious leader. They told him that carpenters were difficult to come by; it could take weeks to get one. And even if a craftsman could be found at short notice, the job would be expensive and take longer than expected.
“Weeks to get a carpenter? I never realized,” said Odysseus, making a mental note to get more involved in menial work. But the plan to sack Troy would not be defeated, declared the hero; was he not the great-grandson of Hermes the messenger god? “Epidural, come forth!”
The youthful warrior broke ranks and knelt before his commander.
“Epidural, I allowed you to join this mission as a special favor to your father, Epeius, whose incompetence now keeps us imprisoned in this hulk.”
“Great king, I am very sorry …”
“Silence! Apologies will not rescue us. What have you to say that might redeem your family’s honor?”
The young soldier was in turmoil. He knew of a secret hatchway through which they could escape their equine tomb. However, Epidural had given his father a vow that he would keep the hatchway’s existence a secret.
“Well?” urged the impatient commander.
Epidural decided that the lives of his fellow soldiers and their mission’s success were more important than his vow.
“Great king. There is a possible solution.”
He revealed that there was a hatchway that led to a cleverly concealed stairway cut into the inside of the horse’s massive tail and one of its hind legs. The invaders could surreptitiously climb down the stairway and reach ground level. Epeius had created the opening to enable his workers to access the horse’s interior. When the construction work was complete, the master craftsman sealed the hatchway but not securely in case last-minute modifications needed to be made.
“This is common practice in the trade,” said Epidural. “A trade secret if you will. My father told me about it the night before I joined your attack force.”
“These are excellent tidings,” grinned the bearded hero. “Where is this opening?”
The youthful warrior fell silent. Odysseus quickly grew impatient. “Speak or I will smite you!”
“In the rear end,” said Epidural at last.
“What! You want me and my men to execute our historic mission through a horse’s arse?”
The onlooking soldiers were barely able to contain their laughter. One of them failed the test and let out a guffaw. Odysseus cut him down and ordered his body to be put in one of the horse’s hollow legs. The King of Ithaca brooded over the news but realized that there was no alternative. He ordered the wretched Epidural to lead them to the hatchway with haste.
When they arrived at the secret opening Odysseus splintered it with a single blow. “You have redeemed your family’s honor,” he told Epidural. “Therefore, I am giving you the honor of following me through the hatchway to victory,” he said, pointing to the anal opening.
Epidural was overwhelmed. “Great king, this is an honor beyond my wildest dreams! But …”
“You dare to refuse this honor?” thundered the man-god.
The young warrior could barely speak such was his dismay. “Lord, I broke my vow to my father never to reveal the hatchway to anyone. I am not worthy of this honor. If it pleases you, Lord, I will stay behind in the hope that the Gods will have mercy on my soul.”
“But this is suicide. When the Trojans discover they have been duped they will surely burn this great horse to the ground. Besides, we never abandon one of our own.”
But Epidural could not be dissuaded, and finally, Odysseus acquiesced. He ordered his men to vow they would never reveal how the Greeks attacked Troy via the horse’s rear end and led his men through the anus.
After his comrades had departed, the miserable Epidural sat alone in the horse’s belly listening to the chaos below. According to plan, the invaders had opened Troy’s huge gates and the Greek army poured into the city’s streets. They set fire to every building and killed anyone who tried to stop them.
Epidural waited for the flames to consume him too, and send his shade to the dark halls of Hades. He recalled the night he had promised to keep the hatchway’s location a secret. For years, father and son argued bitterly over Epidural’s insistence that he become a great soldier rather than join the family carpentry business. Finally, they made peace, and Epeius agreed to help his son become a warrior. The architect of the Trojan Horse even persuaded Odysseus to allow Epidural to take his place in the horse’s belly. The memory made the betrayal all the more painful for Epidural.
The distraught youth prayed to Hephaestus, son of Zeus, and the god of smithery and craftsmanship, to grant him a quick death. He thought his prayer had been answered when a tongue of fire illuminated the horse’s interior. But the fire winked out, and there stood the god himself. The ugliest of the gods, hump-backed Hephaestus eyed the horse’s intricate hatchwork of oak beams and sneered. The depth of his disdain for mortal workmanship was bottomless.
“Great God, you honor me with your presence!” cried Epidural and knelt before the immortal.
“Get up,” growled the god, wiping his hooked nose with the back of a soot-stained hand. “I hate this saving-a-mortal thing, but I’m supposed to do it every now and again and I have a gap in my schedule.”
Hephaestus spent most of his time at the great anvils of Mount Olympus fashioning tools, weapons, armor, and deadly lightning bolts for Zeus when the King of the Gods was in the mood for fireworks. The smithy god, who had a permanent limp, hobbled over to the malfunctioning doors, and examined the hinges.
“It is too much to ask so-called Master Craftsman Epeius to at least use decent hinges. But I suppose one can’t expect much from a mortal.”
“Great God, my father had no choice,” said Epidural, and explained how 10 years of war with Troy had drained the Greek army’s coffers leaving the carpenter with inadequate funds to build the wooden horse.
“That’s no excuse for using this shit,” said Hephaestus and kicked the door’s huge metal hinges. “It’s a false economy buying cheap crap from DIY outlets like Homer Depot.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“No matter. Let’s get this over with.” Hephaestus turned to the wilting warrior. “I don’t have time for anything fancy, so I’ll use an old chestnut and turn you into a heavenly constellation.
And so it was that Hephaestus elevated the wooden horse to the sky where it became a constellation of stars. And there it remains today. In the celestial horse’s belly is the faintest of stars: Epidural, still waiting to be forgiven for betraying his father’s trust. And if stargazers look closely, they can see the small gap in the horse’s rear end where Odysseus and his men exited to win the epic Trojan War.
