Glyn Iliffe - The Armour of Achilles

FOR GUY, EMMA,

JEREMY, KATE AND TOM

Contents

BOOK ONE

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

BOOK TWO

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

BOOK THREE

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

BOOK FOUR

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six

Chapter Forty-Seven

Chapter Forty-Eight

book

ONE

Prologue

O N I THACA

Penelope, queen of Ithaca, stood tall and stiff, staring at the door to the great hall. The muffled sound of voices came from behind its thick wooden panels, punctuated with frequent bursts of laughter. She knew they were waiting for her – to tell her news of the war that had reached its tenth year, and of her husband, Odysseus, whom she had not seen in all that time – but still she hesitated.

‘Should I go now, Mother?’ asked the boy at her side, whose auburn hair she was twisting nervously with her slender fingers. ‘I know children aren’t allowed in the Kerosia.’

‘This isn’t a gathering of the council, Telemachus,’ she replied, looking down at her son and smiling. ‘It’s a private audience with the men who arrived today. They have news for me, and I have questions for them.’

‘Then is it true they’re Ithacans, back from Troy?’

Telemachus looked at his mother and she caught a sudden glimpse of Odysseus in his clever green eyes. It made her catch her breath and the only way she could prevent the swell of tears was to avert her gaze to the gloomy, torch-lit corridor that led back into the palace. At ten years old, her son had inherited little or nothing of his father’s short-legged, triangular bulk. Instead, he was already showing signs of his mother’s height and lean build, as well as her dark, intelligent looks. But his eyes came from his father, and from time to time he would give her a shrewd look or cunning glance that brought memories of Odysseus into painful focus.

After a moment, she looked back at her son and nodded.

‘Yes. Eurybates is your father’s squire and Arceisius is a member of the royal guard.’

Telemachus’s face flushed and his eyebrows puckered angrily.

‘Why send a squire? Couldn’t he have come himself?’

‘No, my dear. His duty is to stay with the army until they defeat the Trojans and win Helen back from the man who took her. Besides, even if he could leave his men I don’t think he would.’

‘But why?’

Penelope looked at Telemachus and there was a deep sadness in her eyes.

‘Because he would never be able to go back. Now, come with me. I want Arceisius and Eurybates to see you with their own eyes, so they can let your father know what a strong and handsome son he has waiting for him at home.’

She pushed the door open and together they walked into the great hall. A fire burned brightly at its centre, casting a vigorous orange glow that fought against the encroaching shadows of night. Its light revealed colourful murals flowing across the white plaster walls, depicting figures of gods and men embroiled in acts of war and violence. Though each wall told a different story, they seemed to move effortlessly into each other, as if the struggles between gods and Titans, and the battles of men against each other, were but one continuous tale. Smoke from the fire coiled up between the four pillars that supported the high ceiling, while around the burning hearth were five chairs, four of which were occupied.

The men stood as Penelope entered.

‘Be seated, my friends,’ she ordered, circling the hearth towards the fur-draped chair that had been left for her.

They waited for her to sit before lowering themselves into their own chairs. Last of all, Telemachus settled on to a fleece at his mother’s feet, his inquisitive eyes roaming the faces of the men as he leaned his cheek against her knee. Penelope laid a hand on his head, drawing comfort from the softness of his hair as she, too, looked at the seated figures.

To her left was Mentor. His handsome face had a natural authority to it and his muscular physique would have marked him as a warrior, were it not for the leather-cased stump of his missing right hand. There was a warm smile on his bearded lips, but Penelope could sense the concern behind it. Mentor was her chief adviser and the closest thing she had to a friend, ever since Odysseus had sailed to Troy. He knew her calm exterior was a façade, hiding the anxieties and uncertainties that were suddenly teeming within her after the arrival of the ships from Ilium. She may have fooled others with her display of regal restraint – bottling herself up in the palace and refusing to follow the crowds down to the harbour to hear the news from Troy – but not Mentor.

Halitherses was to her right, his ageing bulk so tightly packed into the high-backed chair that it seemed the arms would snap off at any moment. He was a veteran soldier and had been a longstanding captain of the royal guard, though his mounting years and the scars of his many battles had prevented him from sailing with Odysseus to Troy. Instead, the king had given him joint stewardship of Ithaca, along with Mentor, to keep the island and its people safe in his absence. And they had not failed him, though the threats to the small kingdom were ever-present and growing. Over the years they had repulsed a handful of raids from the mainland, where groups of armed brigands were filtering down from the north and the rule of law was faltering in the absence of the Greek kings. And then there was the internal menace of Ithaca’s own nobles, whose increasingly audacious demands were voiced through the wealthy and treacherous Eupeithes. Odysseus had bought Eupeithes’s loyalty many years before with a place on the Kerosia, but neither Halitherses nor Mentor trusted him. Fortunately, the people were loyal to their king and the fear of Odysseus’s return kept Eupeithes and his followers in check. For now.

Penelope’s gaze turned to the other two men. She had already been informed of their names, of course, but could barely equate the battle-hardened warriors before her with the youths she had once known and had watched sail off to war. Eurybates, seated next to Halitherses, was an exceptional sailor who had been keen to make the voyage to Ilium and exact revenge from the Trojans for stealing Helen, the pride of the Greeks. Now, as he sat before her, his short body looked as hard as if it had been carved from rock, and his curly hair was grown long and had been drawn back into a tail behind his neck. His eyes were tough and uncompromising, though as they rested on his queen for the first time in many years there was a noticeable softness in them.