Glyn Iliffe - King of Ithaca (Adventures of Odysseus)

Arrows fell into them from behind and two men went down before they were more than a few paces up the hill. Damastor turned in a mixture of surprise and anger, but caught his foot and fell, striking his head against a boulder. He did not get up again and his comrades were forced to leave him as they drove on into the rain of missiles from above.

Despite the early casualties, Polybus had kept the balance of his fifteen or so archers on his own side of the ambush, as Odysseus had pointed out. This made the threat from behind less effective, and all the time the Ithacans were moving out of the effective range of the smaller group of archers. Also, by holding their oversized shields before them they made the shots of the men on the slopes above ineffective, and were able to steadily close the distance on them. And yet the hill was steep and their careful approach, with shields held out as they scrambled around boulders and over loose rocks, allowed the Taphians to pull back before them and tighten their ranks.

‘Eperitus!’ Antiphus called over to him. ‘Stay here and protect me with your shield while I take some shots at them. I’m sick of not being able to fire back.’

Eperitus ran across and fixed the point at the bottom of his shield into the dust. It was tall and broad enough to provide cover for both himself and Antiphus, who slipped his bow and quiver from his shoulders and knelt down. Having no natural skill with the weapon, Eperitus watched with impressed satisfaction as his companion flipped the lid off the quiver, laid a handful of arrows down in his upturned shield and fitted one to the string. He stretched it back with his left hand, resting the shaft on the knuckles of his right hand where his index and forefinger had been severed by Polybus, then steadied his breathing and took aim.

Eperitus peered around the other side of the shield. The Ithacans were clambering more slowly up the hillside now, but still maintained the even dispersal of their line. Odysseus was at their centre, undeterred that he was the target of most of the Taphian archers. It was he who kept the advance steady, ensuring with booming commands (which Halitherses reinforced) that no warrior outstripped his comrades. He controlled them like a man reining in a chariot team, keeping each horse in check until the final burst of speed is required.

Then Antiphus’s bowstring twanged loud in Eperitus’s ear and he saw one of the tall archers flail backwards, caught in the eye. With amazing speed, Antiphus fitted a second missile, took a moment to aim, then let it fly towards a second Taphian, who folded as the point pierced his stomach. Moments later, a third man was hit in the shoulder, and at this the enemy gave up their bows and withdrew behind the safety of their shields. Eperitus saw Polybus then, moving between his bewildered men and marshalling them into a line to meet Odysseus’s advance. Either through stupidity or a complete lack of fear, he walked with his shield slung over his shoulder, unconscious or dismissive of the danger from the slopes below.

Seeing the opportunity, Eperitus touched Antiphus’s shoulder and pointed at the easy target. ‘Revenge for losing your fingers?’

Antiphus saw Polybus, who he could easily have slain, but shook his head. ‘His life isn’t mine to take. Odysseus wants him. I have a different revenge in mind.’

As he spoke an arrow passed between them and tore a channel of flesh from his left shoulder. He cried out in pain and surprise, and clapped a hand to the wound. Together they turned to see that the Taphians from the hillside behind them had left their positions and were closing on their rear, threatening to cut off their retreat and trap them. Eperitus looked up at Odysseus, but he and his guards had restarted their advance on the now fixed line of mercenaries before them, ignorant of the new danger. He shouted to Mentor, who was nearest, and pointed to the ten or so enemy warriors below.

More arrows fell around them and Antiphus called for Eperi-tus’s shield again. He swung it about to face the archery from below and immediately caught two of the lethal shafts in its thick hide, where they joined the earlier shot that was still buried there. Antiphus moved around behind his companion and knelt down to his right. He drew back the string, despite the pain in his shoulder, steadied his breathing and took aim. This time, though, the arrow went wide and bounced off a rock, provoking jeers from its intended target.

Antiphus cursed and, almost in the same breath, called on the help of the gods. He did not miss again. His next arrow pierced the cheek of one of the attackers, whipping his head to one side and sending him rolling back down the hill. His comrades stooped and found what cover there was amongst the boulders, propping their shields before them. But they were not quick enough. Antiphus’s next arrow went straight through a man’s thigh, sending him stumbling back down the slope, shouting with pain. A further arrow finished him, piercing his exposed back and dropping him face-first amongst the rocks.

Mentor hurried down the slope to join them, bringing two others who had received light arrow wounds.

‘Can you keep them off our backs?’ Mentor asked.

Antiphus’s reply was distracted as he searched for a target amongst the broad shields before him. ‘There are already two fewer than before, and I count only eight men left. I’ve enough arrows for the remainder, but if they press hard they’ll overwhelm me. So you’d better stay.’

At that moment they heard shouts and the clash of arms from above, signifying that Odysseus and his eight remaining men had brought home their charge on Polybus’s score of Taphians. Eperitus was torn between rushing to their aid and waiting for the smaller group to attack. Then the weight of the decision was taken from him as the remaining Taphians began their advance, emerging from the cover of the boulders with their shields held before them.

The situation reminded him of the first skirmish at Parnassus, except that this time he was not an outsider: their prince was now his prince; their home was his home. Antiphus’s bowstring sounded and another Taphian fell, screaming with agony as he clutched at the arrow in his foot. Realizing their vulnerability, his comrades broke into a run, frantic to cover the remaining distance before the deadly accuracy of the Ithacan archer could take a further toll of their numbers.

Anxiously, Eperitus glanced over his shoulder to the battle on the slopes above. Mentor did the same and they exchanged worried glances. The situation was desperate and they knew that even Odysseus could not defeat a force twice his own number.

‘We’ve got to finish these Taphians now,’ Eperitus said, motioning down the slope with his head, ‘or Odysseus is going to be overwhelmed.’

Mentor balanced the bulk of his shield on his arm and raised his spear point. ‘Form a line,’ he ordered. ‘Shields and spears at the ready.’

Antiphus fired one last shot, which bounced harmlessly off the helmet of one of the Taphians, then took up his shield and spear and joined his comrades. Eperitus led the attack, closely followed by the others. The enemy were only seven spears strong now, compared to their five, and the slope gave the Ithacans’ charge momentum as they rushed at their foes.

The foremost Taphian offered little resistance as the metal boss of Eperitus’s shield smashed through his own. He tumbled backwards before his assailant, the look of shock on his face changing to pain as his head fell against a rock. It was the matter of a moment for Eperitus to push his spear into the man’s soft stomach, tug it free and look for another victim.

Taphians were a confident breed by nature and remained sure of victory over the smaller Ithacan band. Yet this self-assured reliance on their own brute ability in combat was also the key to their defeat. It made their defence ragged as each man fought his own ground, opening up gaps that the Ithacans exploited with ruthless efficiency. As Eperitus turned to face the next warrior, he saw that Mentor and the others had already attacked the two foremost Taphians in pairs: one forced a parry from his opponent’s shield while the other closed in on the man’s exposed flank, bringing him down with an easy spear thrust. It looked a practised tactic.