Glyn Iliffe - The Gates Of Troy (Adventures of Odysseus)

But Hector was no fool. Seeing the large numbers of Greeks already crossing the Scamander and preparing to push up the slope, he ordered the attack to be broken off and for the Trojan army and its allies to return to the city. Horns called out, rising over the clash of weapons and the hoarse shouts of struggling men, and suddenly the besieged armies of Ithacans, Spartans and Greeks were left standing among the piles of dead, watching the backs of their retreating enemies through a protective screen of cavalry. Too late, Menelaus spotted Paris disappearing through the Scaean Gate, and was forced to watch in seething anger as the man who had stolen his wife slipped back behind the safety of Troy’s walls.

Apheidas threw a last glance at his son, then led his horsemen away from the surviving Thessalians towards the newly arrived Greeks, intending to slow their advance while the rest of the army found shelter inside the city. As Eperitus saw him ride off, a fierce anger gripped him. He drew his sword from its scabbard, and with a roar of fury charged down the slope towards him. At the same moment, a group of three horsemen who were galloping back across the plain from the direction of the Scamander, where they had been hunting Thessalians, tucked their spears under their arms and turned towards him.

The first came dashing in from Eperitus’s left, levelling the head of his weapon at his liver. Eperitus quickly changed direction, cutting across the front of his attacker’s horse and switching his sword into his left hand. A moment later, the Trojan’s head had been swept from his shoulders and his body fell heavily to the ground, where it landed with a puff of dust. At once, his comrades spurred their horses towards Eperitus, one on either side to prevent his escape. They were confident that they were the better horsemen, and that the reach of their spears would carry the lone Greek to his death long before he could bring his sword to bear. Then one of them jerked back, a momentary look of surprise on his face before the darkness of death took him and he fell from his horse, a feathered arrow protruding from his chest. The other ignored the demise of his comrade and leaned forward with gritted teeth, spurring his horse ever faster towards his quarry. Eperitus dug his heels into the flanks of his own horse, leaning close to her neck and extending his sword at arm’s length before him. Squinting against the dust and bright sunlight, he heard the rapid tramp of approaching hooves on the dry turf and the snorting of his opponent’s mount. There was a glint of armour as the Trojan cavalryman came sweeping towards him, then Eperitus’s arm was torn violently aside as his sword was ripped from his hand. He heard a heavy thud behind him and, reining his horse about, he saw the body of his rival lying on the ground, surrounded by a cloud of dust. Eperitus’s sword was still quivering as it stuck up from his chest.

‘Eperitus!’ Odysseus shouted, running towards him with Antiphus at his side, bow in hand. Polites, Arceisius and a score more Ithacans were coming up behind them. ‘Give me your horse! There’s still time to keep the gates from shutting before Agamemnon arrives.’

Eperitus looked urgently back towards the plain, where he had last seen his father. Horsemen were pouring back through the Scaean Gate, their task of screening the Trojan retreat complete. The only other living soldiers outside the walls of Troy now were Greek – Agamemnon’s unblooded force marching up from the fords, and the battle-wearied survivors under Menelaus’s command regrouping at the top of the slope, out of bowshot of the city walls. The bodies of men and horses were strewn all across the plain, from the sandy beaches where the Greeks had landed up to the slopes around the walls of Troy. Of Apheidas there was no sign.

Eperitus backed his whinnying horse away from Odysseus’s outstretched hand and shook his head.

‘No, my lord. You’ll be shot down before you get anywhere near them. I can’t let you ride to your death.’

‘It’s an order, Eperitus, not a request!’ the king snapped angrily.

Eperitus stared down at him for a moment, then dismounted smartly. But before Odysseus could reach for the reins, he slapped his hand down hard on the mare’s flank and sent her galloping towards the gates of Troy.

‘The plan has failed, Odysseus,’ he said. ‘Penelope will have to wait a little longer.’

Odysseus watched the last of the Trojan cavalry crowding back into the city and nodded slowly, a hint of despair in his usually confident eyes.

‘You’re right, Eperitus,’ he sighed. ‘But for how much longer?’

As he spoke, the Scaean Gate slammed shut with a heavy thud.

The siege of Troy had begun.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

The events that take place in The Gates of Troy are based, for the most part, on original myths. There are several versions of the events that led up to the Trojan War – many of them contradictory – so I’ve chosen the accounts I enjoy most or feel contribute best to the story. For example, some have it that Helen was kidnapped by Paris and taken to Troy against her will, while others say she went readily, having fallen in love with the Trojan prince. I’ve opted for the latter, as there’s nothing like love for starting a fight.

The other events in the book that I’ve taken direct from myth include Odysseus’s failed attempt to feign madness and avoid the war, the embassy to Troy, the gathering of the Greek fleet at Aulis, and the sacrifice of Iphigenia. There was never any question in Greek mythology that Iphigenia was Agamemnon’s daughter, but the tales do differ widely on her fate. Aeschylus, for example, makes it clear in the Oresteia that Agamemnon sacrificed his daughter to appease the wrath of Artemis. While Homer is silent on the matter, Euripides in Iphigenia at Aulis has Artemis replace the girl with a deer at the last moment. Unfortunately for Iphigenia, I haven’t been quite so merciful in my retelling of the story.

Moving on, according to ancient tales Achilles killed King Tenes after he hurled a rock at the Greek fleet. He then murdered his manservant, Mnemon, for failing to remind him not to kill any son of Apollo! Shortly afterwards, Philoctetes was bitten on the foot by a snake and, because of his constant groaning and the stench of his wound, was then marooned on Lemnos by Odysseus. And Protesilaus was the first man to hit the beach at Troy, and consequently the first casualty of the war.

Eperitus, on the other hand, comes from my imagination. When retelling a series of popular and well-known tales, it’s often useful to have an unknown element to skew events a little. I also hope the straightforward and honourable Eperitus acts as a foil to Odysseus’s often unscrupulous cunning. Certainly both men will need all these qualities and the strength of their unique friendship if they are to survive the long and bloody war with Troy, of which we’ve seen only the opening skirmish in The Gates of Troy . They have another ten years of fighting ahead of them before Zeus tips his golden scales in favour of one side or the other.

But that’s a different story.

Praise for Glyn Iliffe ‘ King of Ithaca is a great read which embodies the finest elements of war, friendship and betrayal that can be found in Homer’s great works . . . This is a must read for those who enjoy good old epic battles, chilling death scenes and the extravagance of ancient Greece’

Lifestyle Magazine

‘The world of this novel appears as many scholars see that of Homer: a rich melange of different eras . . . It has suspense, treachery and bone-crunching action . . . It will leave fans of the genre eagerly awaiting the rest of the series’

Harry Sidebottom,