Glyn Iliffe - The Oracles of Troy (The Adventures of Odysseus)

‘The entrance is not obvious. It’s on the northern flank, below the trunk of a dead olive tree, and is covered by brambles and a layer of earth. You will have to dig your way into it and knock down the wall you find beneath. Once you’ve done this you will find yourselves in the antechamber to the maze.’

‘And how will we find the tomb?’ Odysseus asked.

‘That I cannot tell you. All mazes are designed to confuse, but this one will dull your senses and have you losing all track of time and place. If you succeed, it’ll most likely be by chance, although you might be able to deduce a way through if you apply your intelligence, Odysseus.’

‘What do you know about the curse, Mistress?’ Eperitus questioned. ‘How can we protect ourselves from it?’

‘Protect yourselves?’ she queried. ‘There’s no protection from what lies within the tomb – not for mortal flesh, at least. But this much I can say, and I say it to you in particular, Eperitus. The only way to overcome the curse of Pelops’s tomb is for Ares’s gift to complete its purpose.’

‘I don’t understand!’

‘You will, when the time comes,’ she answered.

And then she was gone, dissolving into the air as a dense spray of seawater dashed over the side of the galley, dousing Odysseus and Eperitus and waking the crew from their induced slumber.

Chapter Sixteen

P ELOP’S T OMB

Eupeithes looked up at the stars glinting and glittering above the broad roof of his house. They were a fierce white, like particles of daylight burning holes in the night, and as he traced the outlines of the constellations he wondered what a man would have to do to have his own image set among them. Then he smiled and shook his head gently: a ridiculous ambition, he mocked himself, for an overweight merchant who was neither king nor warrior.

Antinous, his son, returned from the bushes at the edge of the expansive garden, where he had emptied his bladder. He dropped heavily onto the seat between Polyctor and Oenops and stared across at his father. Eupeithes had ordered chairs to be carried out to the lawn where it was less likely that eavesdropping slaves could overhear their treasonous talk and report it back to Penelope or her supporters.

‘What’s the point in having control of the Kerosia if you’re not going to do anything with it?’ Antinous asked, picking up the argument he had walked away from in anger only a few moments before. ‘Once Odysseus returns he’ll reappoint a new council and leave us back where we started – if he doesn’t execute us all first. I didn’t throw old Phronius to his death for that to happen. We have to act while we still can: appoint a new king then form an army, ready for Odysseus’s return –’

‘The Kerosia can’t just appoint a king,’ Oenops protested, shaking his white head firmly. ‘We haven’t the right or the power, not while the true king still lives.’

Polyctor, a black-haired man with soft grey eyes and a scanty beard, leaned across and patted Antinous on the back.

‘You’ve grown up in a kingdom without a king, used to the idea the Kerosia makes all the decisions. It doesn’t, Antinous. We’re only a council, subordinate in everything to the power of the throne. The only time we get to make any decisions is when the king is absent.’

‘Well, he’s absent now –’

Eupeithes raised his long, feminine hands for silence. There was no light in the garden and his mole-speckled skin looked grey and waxy as he smiled at the others.

‘You’re all correct, of course. Though we control the Kerosia, we remain but a council of advisers with limited authority – and certainly not enough to elect a new king. As Oenops implies, we can only do that if the king dies and leaves no successor. What power we do have will only last until the return of Odysseus. We therefore have to be realistic: if he comes back within the next few weeks or months, accompanied by a veteran army of loyal Ithacans, there is nothing we can do.’

Antinous threw his hands up to the heavens in a despairing gesture.

‘Then why go to such lengths to take control of the Kerosia? Why did we try to have Telemachus murdered? We’ve risked all we have for nothing.’

‘Maybe,’ his father replied, ‘but I don’t think so. I made my wealth as a merchant, not a gambler, by relying on shrewdness rather than luck. This is no different. But before I outline the solutions, let me first delineate the problems. There are three: Odysseus’s return; Telemachus, his heir; and the loyalty of the Ithacan people.’

‘I’d like to hear your solution to Odysseus,’ Oenops sniffed. ‘Didn’t you just say there’s nothing we can do if he comes back now?’

‘I was simply putting the case, my dear Oenops. The fact is he won’t be coming back. I’ve made certain of that.’

‘How?’ Antinous asked, sitting up.

‘I placed two men among the replacements that were sent to Troy in the spring, with instructions to murder Odysseus if the war ends and he survives. Both are more than capable of carrying out the task, and they know they’ll be generously rewarded if they succeed. What’s more, neither knows about the other. That way, they’ll act alone and if one fails the other won’t be implicated. I had to make doubly certain Odysseus doesn’t make it back to his beloved Ithaca. To our beloved Ithaca.’

There was a self-satisfied grin on Eupeithes’s face as he revealed his cleverness and forethought to the others, a grin that was justified by their stunned reactions.

‘However, that still leaves us with the people and Telemachus,’ he continued. ‘When Odysseus fails to return from Troy, his son will inherit the throne at the age of twenty-one. That still gives us eleven years to dispose of him, but first we must lure him back from Sparta.’

‘Penelope won’t allow him to come back home,’ Polyctor said. ‘She won’t risk it.’

‘Neither can she bear to be apart from him for that long,’ Eupeithes countered. ‘You’ve seen how much she loves him. No, she knows she is in an impossible position: she has to remain in Ithaca, guarding her husband’s kingdom, and yet she can’t live without Telemachus at her side. Believe me, she will look for any opportunity to bring him back, any arrangement that will ensure his safety. I intend to offer her such an arrangement, even if it is unpalatable. And if she takes it, perhaps we won’t need to kill the boy anyway.’

‘You’re talking in riddles, father, and avoiding the central question,’ Antinous said. ‘Who will become king?’

‘Maybe you will, Son,’ Eupeithes answered, rising to his feet. ‘But not until we’ve dealt with the third problem – the consent of the people. They’re fiercely loyal to Laertes’s line and have a deeply rooted aversion to illegitimate rulers.’

‘They’ll obey whoever’s put over them,’ Antinous insisted.

‘They will not ,’ his father snapped, his control failing momentarily. ‘They will not, Son, as I have found out to my own expense in the past. No, one can’t merely foist a king upon the simple-minded; their masters must have authenticity – a royal connection.’

Polyctor’s brow knotted with confusion.

‘Then who? Odysseus’s cousin, Eurylochus, might have served our purpose, but he’s away with the army in Ilium. There’s no-one else we could set up as king.’

Eupeithes locked his hands behind his back and looked up at the stars, as if seeking guidance from the gods. Then he turned his gaze on the others.

‘If Odysseus does not return after a set time – which we know he will not – we will insist he is presumed dead and that a new king takes his place to restore stability and leadership to Ithaca. I intend for that new king to be you, Antinous – a projection of myself upon the throne – but not by appointment. You must be chosen, and you must have legitimacy in the eyes of the people.’