Glyn Iliffe - King of Ithaca (Adventures of Odysseus)

They took to the road again and marched in a double file. Eperitus walked beside Antiphus and for a while they shared their knowledge of Sparta, swapping tales they had heard of its wealth and the splendour of its palace. But after a while Antiphus began pointing out the signs left by what appeared to be a large group of travellers: recently trampled mud, crusts of bread or olive stones, and even a leather sandal-strap tossed away at the side of the road. Then, as the road slipped between two steep hills on its route south, he called out to Odysseus and pointed out a clump of bushes at the side of the road.

‘Somebody’s ahead of us, my lord. These bushes have been hacked with a sword, and that means they’re armed. I think we should send out flanking scouts, just in case Polybus and his Taphians have overtaken us in the night.’

Odysseus shook his head and pointed to the crests of the slopes on either side of them. ‘It’s a little bit late now for that, I think.’

They turned to see both sides of the narrow gulley lined with tall, long-haired men. They held spears almost twice their own height and some of them had bows at the ready, arrows primed and pointing directly at them.

Chapter Twelve

AMBUSH AND PURSUIT

The Taphians surrounded them like a ring of hunters, but Eperitus felt no fear. He believed in the promise of the oracle and knew his time to die had not yet come. He also trusted in the years of training he had received at the hands of his father and grandfather, both of whom had expected him to one day become captain of the palace guard at Alybas. Since boyhood they had worked on his physical strength, his fighting technique and his reactions, and the fruit of their efforts had pleased them both. As Eperitus crouched behind his ox-hide shield and looked up at the fearsome mercenaries, he knew that his aim with a spear was deadly and his skill with sword and shield second to none.

He touched the flower Ctymene had given him, which he wore in his belt, and prayed to Athena for protection. The Ithacans were surrounded on both sides and whichever way they faced their backs were exposed to the archers on either slope. Their inexperience had allowed them to walk into a trap, and he knew they should have been more cautious. Like the others, he had not expected the Taphians to follow them to Messene, let alone pass them in the night and set up an ambush, but the more he thought about it the more his mind focused on the dagger in the mud. He felt sure it was a sign, left by the same person who had torched the olive trees. Clearly, Koronos was not the only traitor.

The fighting, when it commenced, would be quick and bloody. But as they waited for the first arrow to be loosed, the soldiers around him filled with anticipation and fear, Eperitus looked at the tall men on the hillsides and felt only excitement at the thought of pitting his fighting skills against theirs. His imagination tasted the prospects for glory, whilst feverishly planning how to turn the trap. But even if Odysseus’s men were able to escape the well-laid ambush – and he saw no way out other than to hack themselves free – they would leave most of their number dead behind them. Their foes outnumbered them and had the advantage of archers and the high ground. They could pick the Ithacans off at their leisure, forcing them to take the fight up the rocky slopes to the Taphians, by which time the enemy arrows would have reduced them to half their own number.

With the bad news from Ithaca and the loss of their precious baggage, the expedition to Sparta was already in a precarious position. On the other hand, Eperitus had confidence in the men who were with him: the level heads of Odysseus and Mentor; the experience and strength of Halitherses, the bow of Antiphus; the loyalty and comradeship of the others. They also had the happy advantage of being in a tight group, whereas the Taphian leader had spread his force out to prevent the men below escaping. This meant he would have difficulty in keeping control of the warriors furthest from him. Eperitus knew this instinctively, and within moments of the ambush being sprung was searching for a weak spot, a place to launch an attack at and drive the surrounding foes apart.

He looked from position to position, counting each man and eyeing the terrain, remembering the lessons in tactics his grandfather had given him and hoping to identify where they were most vulnerable. It seemed to him that about two-thirds of their force were spread across the wider, steeper hill to their right, whereas the easier slope to the left was more lightly defended, a mere barrier to slow them down if they chose to escape that way.

‘There’s one of the twins,’ Mentor announced, pointing a thumb up the hill to their right. ‘You’ve got good eyes, Damastor: is he missing an ear?’

Damastor squinted over his shield. ‘Yes – it’s Polybus.’

Antiphus, who crouched next to him, spat over his shield. ‘Good. I’ve got an old score to settle with him.’

Eperitus looked up and recognized the arrogant braggart he had knocked into the pool back on Ithaca. His handsome features were out of place beneath the bronze helmet he wore, and his clumsy shield and spear were even less becoming against his elegant, well cared for physique. He looked as if he had just stepped out of his bath, been oiled by slaves and dressed in the finest armour wealth could buy. But none of the accoutrements of a warrior could make him look like a true fighting man. Judging by the way he had spread his men so thinly, Eperitus did not think he was a talented commander of soldiers either.

As he watched, Polybus stood on a large outcrop of rock and put his hands on his hips.

‘Greetings Odysseus,’ he shouted down to them. ‘I hope you like the little surprise I’ve prepared for you. The last time we met I told you we would continue our discussion when the odds were more equal. That time has come, I think.’

‘Our spears will speak for us,’ Odysseus replied, his deep voice reassuring to the men around him.

In answer, Polybus shouted to one of his archers and the first arrow flew. It caught an Ithacan in the chest and threw him back on to the road, his armour crashing about him.

The lull was over.

More bowstrings twanged from the hillsides, arrows splitting the air about them. One pierced Eperitus’s shield, the point stopping a finger’s breadth from his face. He stood and looked about himself, but by good fortune or the protection of a god only one man had fallen to the first volley. He leapt over the prostrate body as more arrows whistled about them and joined Odysseus, who stood with his shield held up against the deadly rain.

‘Polybus has spread his men too thinly,’ Eperitus suggested. ‘He’s left himself vulnerable on the left-hand slope. There are fewer Taphians there and the approach is less steep. They should break easily if we attack, and we can escape with only a few losses.’

‘What glory is there in escape?’ Odysseus smiled. ‘Besides, Polybus wants us to retreat that way so he can pursue us across the plain towards Sparta. He’s placed most of his archers on the right to fire at our backs, and just enough men on the left to hold us until his main force can attack our rear. It’s clever, but obvious. But if we kill Polybus, we break them as a force and gain victory against the odds. So we go right, where they least expect us.’

‘But if we fail, you lose everything.’

‘The gods will be with us, Eperitus.’

With that Odysseus let out a great cry and called for his men to follow him up the hill towards Polybus. They obeyed without question, lifting their shields before them and advancing in a steady line up the slope. Forgetting any thought of escape, Eperitus followed close on the heels of Odysseus.