Glyn Iliffe - King of Ithaca (Adventures of Odysseus)

The Argive prince looked him straight in the eye, with neither the coldness of Agamemnon nor the friendly charm of Menelaus. But for all his apparent interest in his thoughts, Eperitus was not fool enough to believe that he or the Atreides brothers were really concerned about the opinions of a lowly spearman. Again he looked over to Odysseus, who by now had spied them at the shadowy edges of the hall and was watching them keenly. Did the prince know why he was being singled out by his high-born friends? Eperitus wondered. He appeared suspicious and for a moment it looked as if he might join them, but any intentions he had of this were checked by Clytaemnestra, who held him fast in conversation. Eperitus returned his gaze to Diomedes.

‘All I know about Troy is that it lies on the other side of the world. But I’m a fighting man, and what warrior doesn’t yearn for the chance to test himself in battle? If you go to kill Trojans, then my spear will be right beside yours.’

Though little more than twenty-five years old, Diomedes was already a seasoned warrior, and Eperitus could see by the slight arching of his eyebrows that his answer had earned his approval. Agamemnon, however, was not so easily won. Unlike most men in the warrior classes of Greece he did not lust after the physical and emotional joys of war, or even the attainment of honour. His focus was ever on the greater issues and he rarely stooped to the urbanity of human feelings. He reminded Eperitus of a mortal Zeus, watching over all things whilst the lesser gods squabbled about trivialities.

‘Why? For glory?’ Agamemnon said, disdainfully.

‘Yes, for glory. And for Odysseus.’

‘Your devotion is commendable,’ Menelaus complimented him. ‘I can see why Odysseus speaks so highly of you. In time your loyalty will find its rewards.’

‘Yes, if you aren’t undone by your own treachery first,’ Agamemnon said, fixing him with a determined stare. ‘We know you’ve been meeting with Helen.’

Eperitus’s instincts had warned him he was being manoeuvred into a trap, and now he was caught. Someone had told them about Helen, and he did not possess a devious enough character to wriggle free of the predicament. Odysseus would have escaped the ambush with ease, but he could only choose between the truth and silence. He chose the latter.

‘You don’t have to protect her, Eperitus,’ Agamemnon continued. ‘No harm will come to the princess, after all, but you’re a different matter. Did you know the punishment for sleeping with an unmarried Spartan woman is death?’

The king’s words were not meant as an idle threat.

‘I haven’t so much as touched her, my lord,’ Eperitus told him with dignity. ‘And by accusing me of such behaviour you also accuse the princess, though neither of us deserves such suspicion. Ask Helen’s maid; she was with us every time we met.’

‘We know,’ Diomedes said. ‘The girl has a loose tongue amongst her friends, and when news of these meetings worked its way up to us that was the first thing we made sure of.’

‘But Tyndareus needs only to suspect and he’ll kill you, Eperitus,’ Menelaus interjected. ‘There’s too much at stake here. On the other hand, if you can explain to us why you’ve been meeting with Helen then it’s unlikely this matter will go any further.’

Eperitus wondered how much Neaera had already revealed, though it was clear the three men did not yet know everything. It was likely she had told them of her mistress’s wish to escape Sparta and avoid the marriage that was being imposed on her, but had Helen even told the girl about her desire to flee to Ithaca? He looked across at Odysseus, but the prince was still talking to Clytaemnestra.

‘Don’t look to Odysseus for salvation,’ Agamemnon said, noticing his glance. ‘We know Helen plans to run away, and Odysseus is just as keen as we are to prevent her. Tell me honestly, has she asked you to help her? Was that why she arranged to meet you?’

Relieved that they did not yet know everything, Eperitus told them Helen had not asked him to help her escape from Sparta, which was the truth. Menelaus seemed happy to accept his word and looked at him with all the earnestness he could muster in his honest heart.

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ he said. ‘But if you won’t reveal why she meets with you, then we want you to do something else for us.’ It was clear he loved the princess deeply and it made Eperitus glad that he would be chosen to marry her. ‘Watch over her for us, Eperitus. I don’t ask you to betray her confidence, just keep her from leaving Sparta.’

He offered him his hand. Diomedes, whose affections for Helen were no less than those of Menelaus, looked at him and nodded that he should accept the role that was being forced upon him. Eperitus took the proffered hand.

At that point there was a loud bang and the doors of the great hall burst open, sweeping broad arcs through the crowded revellers. He was unable from where he stood to see who or what had hurled the massive portals open with such force, and his view was further obscured as a press of guests and slaves stood to see what was happening. Then Diomedes and Menelaus cleared a passage through the throng and Eperitus followed Agamemnon in their wake.

Three men stood in the aisle that led to the twin thrones of Sparta. On the left stood a skinny youth with a hooked nose and a twitch. To the right was a short man with an evil look to him; about his shoulders, much to Eperitus’s disgust, was draped an enormous brown snake. This alone would have been enough to cause a stir amongst the crowd, but instead all eyes were fixed on the third man.

Eperitus had never before seen anyone as tall or as broad as he was. He stood head and shoulders above everybody else in the room and looked about himself with long, slow sweeps of his head, shrivelling people with fear as his eyes fell upon each of them in turn. That he was a handsome man who wore a smile behind his black beard was no comfort, for his looks were hard and the smile was a mocking one, completely without fear. It came from an overwhelming confidence in his own prowess – a knowledge that nobody in the room could match him: few of them reached higher than his chest, and even Odysseus’s massive build was dwarfed by the titanic muscles on the man. Although he carried no weapons and wore no armour, everybody felt vulnerable before him.

‘I am Ajax, son of Telamon,’ he boomed. ‘I have come to marry Helen of Sparta and take her back with me to my kingdom of Salamis. When I want something I get it and not even the gods can stop me, so the rest of you fools may as well go home. Now, which of you is Tyndareus?’

‘I am,’ Tyndareus admitted, cautiously. Despite his own fierce looks, the king was clearly nervous in the presence of the bearded giant who had burst into the heart of his palace like a thunderbolt. ‘Welcome, Ajax. We have been awaiting your arrival for some time.’

‘We expected you to wait,’ said the short man, stepping in front of his companions. All three men carried the dust of the road on their clothes but, unlike the other suitors, there was no sign of an escort or retinue with them. ‘I am Ajax of Locris, son of Oileus.’

‘As nasty a brute as you’ll ever meet,’ Diomedes confided to Eperitus in a whisper, all his previous hostility forgotten. ‘They call him Little Ajax to distinguish him from his colossal friend, though some call him Ai for short.’

Ai was an exclamation of woe, and looking at the man Eperitus could guess why he had been given the nickname. He stared about at the watching crowd with insolence in his dark, closely set eyes, and though he was hardly much older than Eperitus his look of fearless arrogance warned of trouble to come. His features matched his fearsome manner: a single eyebrow ran in an unbroken line across his forehead, his nose was squashed flat from fighting and his thick black beard could not hide the scars on his disease-ravaged cheeks.