Glyn Iliffe - King of Ithaca (Adventures of Odysseus)

For an instant Odysseus tasted fear. The bitter gall of imminent defeat now replaced the expectation of victory that had accompanied his dreams the night before. Though visibly weakened, Little Ajax had somehow found the strength not only to run fast, but to outstrip Odysseus and keep stretching the distance between them. Dispirited, Odysseus pressed on in his wake, through the city gates that loomed up large before him and past the lone guard in full armour. As he sprinted fiercely to catch up with the Locrian, his thoughts turned despairingly to Penelope and, with a stab of terror, he realized he was about to lose her for ever.

He gasped a prayer to Athena and focused his thoughts on Penelope, trying to forget the exhaustion in his limbs and remember all the things that he loved about her. All he could think of was the way she had humiliated him when they first met, but it was enough. Suddenly a surge of energy filled his muscles. Like a giant hand at his back, it pushed him on to meet the sharp slope of the main street of Sparta, up which he must pursue Little Ajax if he was to win the woman he loved. It wound its serpentine way up the hill on which the city was built, doubling back on itself several times until it reached the palace gates where Menelaus and Diomedes were waiting to greet the victor. The broad route had been cleared of townsfolk for the purpose of the race, so Odysseus knew that the figure disappearing around the bend ahead of him could be none other than Little Ajax.

Encouraged to see his opponent still within his grasp, Odysseus sensed his limbs held yet more in reserve and threw himself into the pursuit. He took the bend, his bare feet finding footholds in the rutted, sun-baked mud, and saw his quarry ahead of him, struggling now against the steepness of the hill. The sweat poured from Odysseus’s naked body as he lengthened his stride to close the gap further, but he doubted he was suffering to the same degree as his rival, whose rasping breath he could now hear just ahead of him.

The road bent back again to the left then suddenly gave way to a gentler angle. Both men found a new surge of speed and ran as fast as their flagging muscles would allow, their arms pumping desperately as they sought advantage over each other. They raced on through the winding streets, their hearts thumping horribly inside the stifling confines of their chests, and slowly Odysseus began to close the distance between them. Soon they were barely a sword’s length apart, and in desperation Little Ajax threw a punch with the side of his fist. It caught his pursuer in the ribs, but the blow lacked the strength to throw him off his tail. He repeated the tactic, this time moving nearer to the house-fronts on the right-hand side of the street, trapping his opponent before aiming a higher punch at his face. Odysseus, unable to distance himself without falling back, received the blow in his left eye. He lost his balance and crashed into the wall of a house, before stumbling to his knees in a cloud of dust.

He was up again in an instant, but his rival had already disappeared around the final bend in the road. Odysseus heard the cheering of the warriors who lined the last stretch of the race to the palace gates, and for a dark moment he sensed defeat.

Then, as his heart sank, a new resolve stirred within him. The thought of losing Penelope was something he could not accept, or even contemplate. It clanged against the solid core of his character and insisted the race was not yet over. A shock of anger erupted through him, pouring every last drop of remaining strength into his legs. He began to draw fresh speed from his tired limbs. The muscles tensed agonizingly, but with each thrust of his legs he sensed the burden of his body weight decrease. Suddenly they launched him around the final bend and back into the race.

A new roar greeted his appearance. He saw the Locrian turn in surprise, the panic filling his eyes as he knew Odysseus could still rob him of victory. Further on the gates of the palace were open, guarded on either side by Diomedes and Menelaus, waiting to announce the winner. The volume of spectators’ shouts was enormous, driving him on relentlessly until he was at his Little Ajax’s shoulder once more.

He threw the final reserves of his strength into a last push to be first to the gates. But whatever force had kept his legs moving at such speed and for so long suddenly drained away beneath him. He willed himself on, desperately, but felt only a faint impulse in response. It was barely enough. He fell sprawling into the mouth of the palace gateway, not knowing whether it had been sufficient for victory. The last thing he saw as his mind collapsed into darkness was Diomedes and Menelaus leaping in the air like madmen, to the sound of endless cheering from the warriors of every state in Greece.

Chapter Twenty-four

EPERITUS AND CLYTAEMNESTRA

Eperitus rode to a village below the foothills of the Taygetus Mountains, where he exchanged Icarius’s stallion for a blanket, a dagger, and a few days’ supply of bread and meat. It was a sorry trade, but he desperately needed food and a weapon. Besides, he excused himself, the horse would only be a burden if he was to hide out amongst the frowning ridges and inhospitable peaks above. Swinging the bag of food onto his shoulder, he started up the crumbling road that struggled into the coppery-brown mountains.

After a while he found what he was searching for: the lip of a rock shelf overlooking the fertile plains of Sparta and the road through the mountains. He made his way carefully and slowly up the loose, scree-covered slopes until, shortly, he was standing in the centre of a shallow bowl that was an ideal place for a camp. It had an overhanging crest of rock to provide shelter from wind and rain, whilst its natural concavity would keep him out of sight from anyone below. And if he needed to make a defence, the only approaches were up steep gradients from the valley or the mountain road.

The westering sun was on his back as he saw out the last of the daylight, dangling his legs over the rim of his hiding place. Soon the brown light of dusk choked the colour and detail from the valley and his mind turned naturally to thoughts of warmth and food. He decided to risk a fire and wandered the slopes collecting dead bushes and branches from the few stunted trees that grew there, before sitting down to make tinder and kindling with his dagger. He shaped a nest of dried grass and put the tinder inside, then sharpened a stick and began vigorously rubbing a groove into a piece of wood. After a few moments he tipped a small coal into the tinder nest and blew on it until a puff of flame appeared. Carefully shielding it from the night breeze, he transferred it to the pile of kindling and soon a crackling blaze was bathing the rocky shelf in orange light.

The rest of the night was lonely and thought-filled. As Eperitus lay in his thick blanket and listened to the spit and pop of the fire, he looked up at the white moon that flitted between the ragged fronds above and thought of the future. Meeting Odysseus had been a blessing from the gods: at the prince’s side he had fought men and monsters and brought glory to his name; he had spent months in the company of Greece’s finest men, and had even spoken with one of the immortals. But now the fickle gods had forsaken him again, taking back what little honour he had won for himself and leaving him once more destitute and without hope. Unless he could somehow rejoin Odysseus and help him win back Ithaca, he would never redeem himself from the shame of what his father had done. Tortured by the memory, his descent into sleep was slow and fitful.

The next day was spent watching the gleaming walls of Sparta. The courtship of Helen would soon be over, and once a husband had been named the suitors would quickly begin to leave. Odysseus and his men might return the way they had come, but it was more likely they would head south to the coast and hire a ship to take them home, so he kept a watchful eye on both routes.