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

‘I wouldn’t,’ Odysseus replied, simply. ‘And I won’t – not with a family to care for and a kingdom to rule. Ithaca’s king owes no allegiance to Mycenae, and if Agamemnon still wants war against Priam then he’ll have to do without me. I don’t care for battle and glory – not like you do, Eperitus; my heart is here, in these islands with my family and friends. If the call to war does come, then I’ll find a way out of it. It’s you I’m worried about.’

Eperitus stared at him. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked, at the same time feeling like a thief caught in a man’s home.

‘I’m not a fool,’ Odysseus said with a short laugh. ‘You’re a warrior, Eperitus, and these islands that I love with all my heart must be like a prison for you. I know that you often climb to the top of Mount Neriton and look out at the mainland, no doubt yearning to go and find adventure on some foreign battlefield. And I saw the way Athena questioned you – she knows where your heart is, too. It’s only your vow to serve me that’s kept you here for so long, and your friendship. And if you weren’t the best friend I have, I would consider releasing you from your oath.’

Eperitus looked across the bow of the ship to the rapidly approaching harbour, where several fishing vessels were drawn up on the sand and two galleys lay at anchor on the smooth waters. ‘I wouldn’t want to be released,’ he said quietly. ‘As I told the goddess, if war is coming then I’ll face it at your side.’

‘Let’s see what the Fates hold for us,’ Odysseus replied. ‘Now, get back to the benches and tell Antiphus to lower the sail – we’ll row the rest of the way into harbour.’

But Antiphus had already given orders for the sail to be furled and for the oars to be readied. Eperitus took his place beside him, sliding the pine oar between its pegs and fastening the handle with a leather strap. He felt the strain in his arms and shoulders as the blade bit the water, then picked up the rhythm of the rest of the crew as they rowed the galley into the small inlet that nestled at the northern foot of Mount Neriton. The calm waters of the sheltered bay offered little resistance, and soon the splash of the anchor stone was followed by the shouts of men as they lowered a small boat over the side.

Odysseus told Antiphus and Arceisius to wait for him and Eperitus in the boat, then turned to Polites.

‘Come with us, friend. You’ve not seen my home yet, and as you’re now one of the palace guard I want your first experience to be a happy one.’

Polites bowed his head but said nothing. Leaving their weapons and equipment in the ship, they climbed down into the waiting boat – which dipped alarmingly as Polites stepped onto it – and rowed to shore. They left Arceisius to take the boat back to the galley, then ran up a narrow road that led to the town above. A group of women, filling clay jars from a spring at the side of the road, looked on in silence as they passed. Eperitus wondered whether they had any news about Penelope, but had no time to ask as the king led them on towards the town. Soon they were passing the first houses, and shortly afterwards had reached the open terrace before the palace walls.

Large numbers of people were standing around in the midday sun. Most were peasants or slave women, many with baskets of clothes under their arms, jars of water on their shoulders or babies on their hips. Here and there old men conversed with each other in animated tones, their grey beards wagging and their crooked fingers poking emphatically at each other’s chests. Groups of children ran in and out between the knots of adults, shouting and screaming as they chased and caught one another. It annoyed Eperitus to see them gathered there, clamouring like vultures as they awaited news of the royal birth; they seemed not to care that their queen’s fate was in the hands of Artemis, who from time to time saw fit to take the life of a mother or baby.

Odysseus had stopped and was staring at the open gate in the outer wall of the palace. At the sight of their king, the din of voices gradually grew quiet and soon all eyes were upon him.

‘What is it, Odysseus?’ Eperitus said in a low voice, standing next to him and holding his elbow. ‘Do you want me to go in and ask?’

‘No,’ Odysseus said, shaking his head as if waking from a dream. ‘No, of course not. I just felt a moment of uncertainty. As if . . .’

‘Don’t say it,’ Eperitus said, squeezing his elbow. ‘It’s natural to be afraid, but she’s in good hands. Promise Artemis the sacrifice of a goat if she’ll see Penelope and the child safe, and then let’s go in.’

‘A goat?’ Odysseus said, looking his friend in the eye. ‘If everything goes well, she’ll have my best bull before night-time – the thigh bones and fat, which all the gods love. And we’ll feast on everything else, eh? Come on, Eperitus, let’s find out whether I’m a father yet.’

They walked through to the courtyard, followed by Antiphus and Polites (the sight of whom caused a great stir in the crowd). The scene inside the walls was no less busy than on the terrace outside, with slaves and soldiers scurrying to carry out their duties. Since taking over from his father, Odysseus had transformed Ithaca from a poor, unsophisticated kingdom into a prosperous and bustling state. His palace had also grown in size and richness: in Laertes’s day, it had been a tired and neglected place with no more than two dozen slaves and a guard of thirty men; now it was completely rebuilt, boasting hundreds of slaves and a standing army of three hundred soldiers.

It was an achievement that Odysseus could be justifiably proud of, though many of his decisions had proved unpopular to start with. The first of these concerned Eupeithes, the affluent merchant who had initiated the rebellion against his father. Laertes’s last act as king had been to banish the traitor to Dulichium, but after a year on the throne Odysseus had brought him back and appointed him his chief adviser on trade. In a single stroke, he had gained the benefit of his former enemy’s commercial acumen and guaranteed his loyalty and support (if causing Laertes a certain amount of anger and embarrassment). Odysseus also made peace with the Taphians, who had supported Eupeithes’s rebellion, and now counted their chieftain, Mentes, as one of his closest friends. Eventually, the whole of Ithaca came to appreciate their king’s wisdom and learned to trust his judgement.

Eperitus had always believed in Odysseus’s cleverness, but it was for his hard-working nature that he respected him most. As they walked across the busy courtyard, he looked about at the many improvements his friend had made. Their visit to Sparta years ago had impressed on Odysseus that a king’s home reflected his position and authority, and he had quickly set about redesigning the palace and helping in its reconstruction. The ash planks of the threshold to the great hall, which they were now approaching, had been cut to length and fitted by the king himself; even the cypress pillars that supported the roof had been tapered and rubbed smooth by his hands. His mark was in every aspect of the kingdom, and soon it would be made complete. The child that he and Penelope had wanted for ten years would continue his bloodline and, more importantly, preserve the memory of his deeds so that when death claimed his body it would not claim his renown also.

As Eperitus pondered these things, the doors of the great hall swung open to reveal a tall woman standing in the shadows. She was dressed in a white chiton with a bright-red cloak draped over her shoulders. Her tangled brown hair was tucked behind her ears, revealing a pale face with dark, tired eyes that blinked against the bright sunlight. Penelope’s calm beauty reminded Eperitus of the first time he and Odysseus had seen her, at a feast in Sparta ten years before. Then she had worn a full-length, green dress and her hair had been tied in a ponytail that danced cheerfully with each movement of her head. Odysseus had fallen in love with her that night, and with a combination of persistence and wiliness he had won her heart and made her his queen.