The Gates Of Troy (18 page)

‘Menelaus!’ Agamemnon shouted. The authority in his voice was so compelling that even Eperitus and Arceisius stopped and looked at the Mycenaean king. ‘Brother, put your sword away. Odysseus was only doing what he had to do for the sake of his family.’

Menelaus looked at his older brother and realized in a moment that he was speaking the truth. The anger drained from him and he slid his sword back into its scabbard.

‘Now then, Odysseus,’ Agamemnon continued. ‘My patience is at its end, so let’s have no more of this charade. Palamedes has outfoxed you, and you’ll just have to accept it. We’re forming an expedition of Greek kings to rescue Helen, so give us your answer: will you come with us to Troy?’

‘Why should he?’ Penelope interjected. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes dark with anger as she clutched Telemachus to her chest. ‘He’s not beholden to you, Agamemnon. He’s a king in his own right, and now he’s a father. Although I have every sympathy for you, Menelaus – Helen is my cousin and this news is like a dagger in my heart – you’ve no right to ask a man to leave his family and go to war on the other side of the world. Odysseus has every reason to stay on Ithaca, and every reason not to go on this expedition of yours.’

‘But Menelaus does have the right to ask Odysseus to come to Troy,’ Palamedes said, propping himself up on one elbow and rubbing his reddened cheek. ‘To
demand
that he comes, even. Isn’t that so, Odysseus?’

The Ithacan king placed his arm about his wife’s waist and kissed her on the cheek. He looked at the baby in her arms and touched the tip of his nose with his nail-bitten finger, smiling as the sight of his child momentarily eclipsed the troubles that were about to overtake him. Then, with a sigh, he turned to Penelope and looked her in the eye.

‘My love, he’s right. Ten years ago, those of us who wanted to marry Helen were made to take a secret pledge. Her father was so terrified her looks would cause a fight, I helped him out by suggesting a sacred oath.’

‘What oath, Odysseus?’

‘To protect the successful suitor and come to his aid if anyone threatened their marriage.’

Penelope looked away. ‘And as Menelaus was the successful suitor, you’re honour-bound to help him.’

‘I never dreamed my own ruse would come back to bite me,’ Odysseus said softly, stroking his wife’s hair. ‘But the moment I recognized Agamemnon’s sail I instinctively knew it had. If it was only a matter of honour, I wouldn’t care. But it’s not. It was an oath sworn before all the gods, and if I refuse Menelaus’s request I’ll be a cursed man; the immortals will make my life a misery, and yours too. My only hope was to feign madness so Menelaus wouldn’t call on me to honour my word, but I failed.’

‘I understand, Odysseus, and I don’t blame you for suggesting or taking this oath. But if the Trojans refuse to return Helen to Menelaus then it’ll mean war. You could be killed, and then Telemachus would grow up without ever having known his father.’

‘He won’t,’ Eperitus said. ‘Not if we can prevent it.’

‘And what can you do?’ Penelope asked, looking at Eperitus and his squire with scornful anger. ‘Aren’t you and Arceisius deserting him to go and make names for yourselves?’

Eperitus felt the sting of her words, but gave her the most reassuring smile he could muster. ‘We still intend to leave Ithaca in search of glory, my lady. But it looks as if Troy’s going to be the place to find it, so we’ll go there at Odysseus’s side.’

‘Besides,’ said the king, looking pleased as he slapped Eperitus and Arceisius on the shoulders, ‘I’ve no intention of releasing either of these rogues from my service. They need somebody responsible to keep them out of trouble.’

‘That’s the spirit I’m looking for,’ Agamemnon interrupted. ‘Eperitus, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, my lord,’ Eperitus answered, as Odysseus hooked a hand around Arceisius’s elbow and led him away. The last time Eperitus had seen Agamemnon was ten years before in Sparta, when the Mycenaean king was among a group of nobles who had sentenced him to death for assaulting Penelope in her bedroom.

‘I’m glad to see you escaped execution,’ Agamemnon continued. ‘Especially as Odysseus was the one in Penelope’s room that night.’

‘We worked that out for ourselves in the end,’ Menelaus said, putting a friendly arm about Eperitus’s shoulder. ‘And when we realized you’d offered your own life to save Odysseus’s, Eperitus, the shame that had been attached to your name was wiped away and replaced with honour. Don’t you agree, brother?’

Agamemnon turned his gaze on Eperitus and scrutinized the lowly warrior with his cold, passionless eyes for a long moment. Then the king’s face broke with a smile that was surprisingly warm and inviting as he took Eperitus’s hand.

‘Men of your quality are hard to come by,’ he announced. ‘With the likes of you and Odysseus with us at Troy, Priam will soon learn that his days are numbered. And I can tell you, as sure as any oracle, the honour you’ve already earned will be nothing compared with what the gods will heap on you in Ilium. I’ll be proud to have you at my side.’

Odysseus, who was busy unyoking the ass with Arceisius and Eurybates, looked over his shoulder at these words.

‘We don’t know there’ll even be a war yet, Agamemnon. The Trojans might still be persuaded to return Helen unharmed, which will save us all a lot of time and effort, not to mention further heartache for Menelaus.’

‘Satisfying my heartache is one thing,’ Menelaus growled. ‘Satisfying my anger will be quite a different matter altogether.’

Odysseus left the animal in Eurybates’s care. ‘That may be so, Menelaus,’ he said, ‘but wars need fleets and armies, and the time and wealth to bring them together. If you want Helen back, a peaceful solution is quickest and best. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I suggest we return to the palace, enjoy a few kraters of wine and a roast hog, and discuss what needs to be done.’

book

TWO

Chapter Ten

L
EAVING
I
THACA

T
he great hall was filled with conversation as the men seated around the burning hearth discussed the events of recent days. Only Eperitus remained silent, lost in thoughts and memories as his gaze wandered about the high-ceilinged chamber for what he mused might be the last time. He looked at the bright, active murals that ran the circuit of the lime-washed walls and recalled a time when the hall had been a dark and decrepit place, the plaster peeling away and the old frescoes lost beneath layers of smoke and grime. Odysseus had changed that. The walls had been replastered and new murals painted. These were kept clean by an army of slaves, and as Eperitus looked at them now they were almost as vivid and colourful as they had been when they were first laid down nine years before.

Most depicted wars of legend – between the gods and the giants on the north wall, the centaurs and lapiths on the west wall, and the gods and the Titans on the south wall. On the east wall, however, was the battle for the liberation of Ithaca. It was a celebration of Ithaca’s recent history and the achievements of its king, and for that reason was filled with careful detail. Even Eperitus was shown, leading the attack on the walls – or so he was told, as each figure looked the same to his eyes – while Odysseus was at the centre, an oversized figure fighting the Taphians inside the palace.

Eperitus, though quietly satisfied that his part in the battle had been so generously recognized, nevertheless felt embarrassed by the mural. His bullying and critical father had never allowed him to develop anything other than a modest image of his own value, and the resulting humility was unusual for a warrior. Ironically, it was also the fuel that fed his desire to prove himself.

He turned his eyes from the mural to the numerous alcoves in the walls, which housed clay statuettes of the different gods. They bore a variety of tokens and symbols that distinguished them from each other: Zeus held a thunderbolt, Poseidon his trident and Apollo his lyre; Hermes had his winged sandals and carried the caduceus, while Hephaistos, the smith-god, held aloft his hammer as if ready to strike; Ares and Athena were both armed with helmet, shield and spear, and Artemis the huntress had her bow and quiver; the flowering branch of a chaste tree was held by Hestia, and a head of corn by Demeter; the naked figure of Aphrodite held a dove in both hands, and finally Hera, the wife of Zeus, was depicted offering an apple. Eperitus felt as if their stern eyes were fixed on him in judgement and turned his face up to the pine-beamed ceiling, where a deep-blue firmament was filled with celestial bodies, clearly picked out in gold and silver as they circled the vent in the centre. Even the crimson of the four soaring pillars that supported the roof was hardly dimmed by the trail of smoke that filtered slowly upwards from the hearth.

An increase in the clamour of voices brought Eperitus’s gaze back down to the other members of the Kerosia, the council of the king’s advisers. Opposite him was Eupeithes, the former traitor who had been placated with the position of counsellor for trade. He was a fat man with thin, dangling limbs that made him look like a beetle. His ageing head was completely bald, but for a wisp of grey hair above each ear, and his skin was pale and covered with moles. Though defeated and pardoned by Odysseus, his face showed little humility; instead he wore the arrogant, self-assured look of a wealthy man who felt his opinion was superior to all others.

He was holding a discussion with Eurylochus, who Odysseus had made a member of the Kerosia to placate him after Eperitus was given the captaincy of the royal guard. In Eperitus’s opinion, Eurylochus was a fool and his worthless contributions were a waste of the council’s time, but the king always gave the impression that he valued his cousin’s viewpoint.

On Eurylochus’s right was the oldest member of the Kerosia, Phronius, a figure so bent with age that the carved back of his chair was visible as he leaned forward on his stick. Next to him was Halitherses, who had been captain of the guard for many years during Laertes’s reign. The wounds he received fighting the Taphians had forced him to resign the post, though he remained a tall, heavily built figure with an imposing presence. Between him and Eperitus sat Mentor, Odysseus’s boyhood friend who had lost his left hand to a Taphian sword.

Other than the king and Laertes, only one other member of the council was missing: Penelope. When Eperitus had first attended an Ithacan Kerosia ten years before, he had been shocked that Anticleia, Odysseus’s mother, had been allowed to partake in the debate. It was strange in the extreme for a woman to discuss politics with men, but Eperitus had soon learned that Ithaca was a kingdom of strange customs and ideas. So when Odysseus succeeded his father as king he was not surprised that Penelope took Anticleia’s place on the council, where her abundant wisdom quickly made its mark. But there were traditionalists on Ithaca, too: as a mother Penelope was now expected to turn her attentions from politics to Telemachus, the future king. Ever wise to the opinions of her subjects, she had temporarily excused herself from attending the Kerosia, much to Eperitus’s disappointment.

Phronius, Mentor and Halitherses were having a heated discussion about the number of men they could afford to send to Troy, and how many should be left behind for the defence of the island.

‘Over two thousand men answered the call to arms,’ Mentor said, ‘of which the king’s taking eight hundred.’

‘And they’re all fools,’ Phronius croaked, the feathery white strands of his moustache puffing out as he spoke. ‘This ain’t no local scrap with some boneheads from the mainland. It’s a full-scale war on the far side of the civilized world – if you can call Ilium civilized. Any man who sails today won’t be seen again in these islands for at least a year – you can count on that. So I say the same now as I said when I first heard mention of this so-called expedition: Odysseus should take sixty good men in a single ship and be done with it. That’s more than he needs to do to fulfil this cursed oath, and it’ll leave the islands well-enough manned for their own protection, not to speak of the day-to-day business of farming and fishing and so on.’

‘That’s as may be,’ said Halitherses, ‘but it won’t be the way Odysseus sees it. If I know him at all, and I know him better than you do Phronius, he’ll want to show Ithaca in the best light possible. We may not be a rich or powerful kingdom, but we’ve come a long way since Laertes’s day. Just look at this hall, for example, or the number of slaves and guards there are now compared with ten years ago. If the other kings are bringing large numbers of ships and warriors, as Agamemnon says, then Odysseus won’t make Ithaca a laughing stock by turning up with a mere boatful of soldiers. He’s leaving more than enough men at home for Ithaca to take care of itself, though if he could’ve begged and borrowed more than a dozen ships I’m sure he’d have taken as many as could fit in their black hulls.’

‘It’s more than just a matter of pride,’ Mentor added. ‘Odysseus may be a king, but he’s a husband and father first. His heart is here with Penelope and Telemachus, and he wants to get this war over as quickly as possible so he can come back to his family. The more men he takes, the bigger the Greek army and the better the chance of a speedy victory.’

‘Whatever the reason, I’m just glad he’s taking a good number of men with him,’ said Halitherses. ‘I wouldn’t want to think of Odysseus facing a Trojan army with just a handful of Ithacans around him, no matter how many other Greeks there might be. At least his own people will stick by him if things get rough. And Eperitus’ll see that he comes home safe – won’t you, Eperitus?’

Eperitus, who had been watching the flames twitching in the hearth, looked up.

‘Aren’t you forgetting something, Halitherses? You were there when the Pythoness spoke her words of doom. Haven’t you given any mind to what she said?’

‘Of course I have!’ Halitherses hissed, lowering his voice. ‘And I mean to remind Odysseus of it, too . . .’

Before he could say any more, the door at the back of the great hall opened and Odysseus entered with his father. They were followed by slaves bearing tables laden with bread and cold meat, which they hurriedly placed around the circular hearth before retreating into the shadows. More slaves brought kraters of mixed wine for the members of the Kerosia as they stood for their king. Finally, a troop of four fully armed soldiers entered and stood guard at the door, which they closed behind them with a bang.