Big news: the generals asked me to take the Horse back to Greece! I assumed that we would leave it in Troy—it got pretty dirty—but I guess the higher-ups want to hang on to it.
I wish I were sailing home with the rest of the guys, but as Eurydamas reminded me, now when the poets sing of this great victory they’ll surely mention me—Alexandros the Big Horse Driver!
On the road! This is the first part of the Trojan War that hasn’t been awful for me. I spent most of it blindly shooting arrows over a wall and moving dead bodies around. And I only saw a god once, when Hephaestus was trying to fix a shield. He wasn’t even using any divine fixing powers—he was actually sort of struggling with it.
The Horse is a breeze to move—it’s very light without soldiers inside of it—but it’s unwieldy. I keep losing control of it, and it rolls all over the place. It gets caught in trees and stuck in mud, and I have to chase it when it gets going too fast down hills.
The other big downside to the Horse’s being light is that it’s easy to steal. The Horse doesn’t fit indoors, and I don’t have enough rope to tie it to anything. I’ve been leaving a note on it that says “Do Not Touch: Full of Soldiers!!!” It’s kept most people away, but it seems to attract teens and demigods. Go figure.
I got no sleep last night. Some drunk soldiers hired an artist to draw them standing next to the Horse. I guess these sorts of depictions are called “horsies.” And of course, once the artist finished, the whole thing immediately turned into an orgy, which not only did they not invite me to, but they also kicked me out of my own Horse until they finished!
I didn’t even get to be in the horsie.
The Horse’s wheels were really creaking so I stopped to get some grease. As I was leaving, the grease merchant said, “Safe travels dragging your giant horse.” And I did that thing where I said, “You, too,” as if he were also dragging a giant horse. So awkward.
Good news: I’m nearly halfway home! Bad news: Horse got wedged between two big trees. I stopped a passing centaur to help dislodge it and gave him some oats as a thank-you. I’d never seen a centaur eat a bag of raw oats before—it’s very upsetting.
Such a cool day, diary. I met the poet Homer! Nice guy but really intense. He said he’s gonna include me in his poem! This is what I’ve been saying—when people talk about the war, they’ll always remember Alexandros the Big Horse Driver who dragged the Trojan Horse home all by himself.
I also pitched Homer on a new demigod I came up with called Horseniax. He’s half man, half big wooden horse, and is the protector of big-horse drivers. Fingers crossed that Horseniax makes the poem, too.
I heard from a guy at the bar that nearly every Greek sailing back home has run into crazy issues—storms, vengeful gods, one-eyed giants. A bunch of them even got turned into pigs! Driving the Horse doesn’t seem like such a bum gig after all.
Update: I wrote that before I rolled the Horse over roadkill and the big wheels flung carcass bits everywhere. Definitely worse than what’s happening to everyone else making their way back to Greece. Equally as bad, at least.
Interesting observation: some horses are afraid of my giant, fake Horse, while some horses get very excited by it. I guess only the gods know what’s going on inside those horse heads. . . .
I’m finally home in Greece! I’ve got a lot of blisters and a nasty bite from a hydra who passed out inside the Horse after a bender, but I made it! The general in the city seemed shocked to see me and the Horse. He said he didn’t know where to put it, so I showed him my trick of placing branches all over the Horse to disguise it as a big tree. He gave me a kind of worried look, but I was too tired to make a big thing of it.
It just feels so good knowing that the Trojan Horse will forever be a symbol of perseverance. I bet in the future people will say things like, “We can rely on him—he’s a real Trojan Horse!”
And it’s all thanks to me, the hero of the Trojan War that history will never forget: Alexandros the Big Horse Driver.