Glyn Iliffe - King of Ithaca (Adventures of Odysseus)

Clytaemnestra shook her head. ‘He’s ambitious, but he isn’t a tyrant. He believes in unifying Greece by mutual agreement, not subjugation. If he were anybody else I could almost admire his vision and his commitment. But he isn’t anybody else; he’s my husband and he’s a bastard. I curse him!’

She spat over her shoulder into the flames.

‘I don’t blame you for hating him, not after what he did to you,’ Eperitus ventured, taking a step closer.

Clytaemnestra hung her head and a shining tear rolled down each of her cheeks. Then Eperitus put a hand under her chin and lifted her face. Her large, bewitching eyes met his and something stirred deep within him. More tears, even though her face was proud and defiant, and then he kissed her. Her lips parted and he followed her lead, each action new to him. His hands found her thin waist and pulled her body against his, the twin bulge of her small breasts pressing upon his ribs. Then as her fingers ran into his hair he felt the tip of her tongue enter his slightly opened mouth, a sensation for which no rumour or description of the act had ever prepared him. He felt his whole body respond.

He squeezed her closer still and dropped a hand to her buttocks, only for her to mirror the action on himself. For a moment both of her hands clawed at his flesh, and then began tugging at the hem of his tunic, sliding it up his back until moments later she pulled it over his head and arms and flung it to one side. Instinctively they stood back from each other as she undid the cord that held her dress together. Then she was naked before him and he found his aroused passion momentarily stilled as he stared at her.

Although he had seen naked women before, never had he beheld a body that he knew within moments would be joined with his own. Clytaemnestra, perhaps enjoying the knowledge she was giving herself to him in a way that Agamemnon would never know, allowed his eyes to roam across her body, over the small white breasts with their disproportionately large, starkly pink nipples, down over the flat stomach to the thick arrowhead of red hair between her legs. Then, before his eyes could have their fill of her, she took him by the hand and led him to a patch of dried grass beyond the ring of firelight, out into the shadows where the moon’s silver luminance gave their bodies a ghostly, even corpselike appearance.

When Eperitus awoke the next morning she was gone. He was disappointed – there was so much he wanted to say and ask and talk about with her – but he knew he was not heart-broken. He glanced about for signs of her, just in case she had only wandered off, but there were none.

He lay back on the bed of grass and looked up at the clouds, his mind sliding lazily between the different pleasures of the night before. But for all the foreign delights of experiencing a woman, every thought ran ultimately up against the same barrier, the single revelation that Clytaemnestra had shared with him between their bouts of love-making. Damastor was a traitor. Damastor had wanted Odysseus to choose Penelope over Helen, and it was Damastor who had given the alarm when Odysseus entered the women’s quarters.

It all sounded too incredible, and Eperitus wondered whether Clytaemnestra’s second sight had failed her or deceived her. But as he sifted through everything he could remember about Damastor’s actions over the past half-year, the distant sound of horns carried to him from across the Eurotas valley. In an instant he was on his feet and standing at the edge of the shelf of rock, shielding his eyes from the sun as he gazed towards Sparta. Away in the distance, the first of the suitors was emerging from the city gates. The courtship of Helen was over. The battle for Ithaca was about to begin.

book

FOUR

Chapter Twenty-five

DEATH IN THE TEMPLE

Even from a distance Eperitus’s shield and spears would mark him out as a warrior, so he was especially cautious in his descent from the foothills not to make himself visible to any watching eyes on the city walls. Once he was back on the level plain of the valley, though, there were enough trees, ravines and stone walls to provide cover and he made much better progress on his way to the sun-dappled waters of the Eurotas.

The day was a warm one, in contrast to the clouds and occasional rain of the past week, and by the time Eperitus reached a point on the river far enough down from the city gates he was sweating and thirsty. He laid down his shield and spears behind a stone wall and glanced about the countryside for signs of life. There were shepherds on the foothills to either side of the valley and a handful of peasant children in an olive grove on the other side of the river, but neither posed a threat so he walked to the near bank and knelt down to drink. The cold waters were refreshing on his dusty hands, the strong undercurrents driving his fingers apart and chilling them to the bone. He took a quick draught and splashed some on his face and neck, then on his dark hair, hot with the sun. He scooped up more handfuls of the liquid until his thirst was slaked, then sat back with the water dripping from his unshaven chin onto the tunic Clytaemnestra had given him.

As he slouched back against the rich, damp grass of the river bank the sun quickly dried his hair and skin and took advantage of his wearied condition to woo him with thoughts of sleep. The air was rich with the smell of spring blossom, overpowering his senses, and he felt his lids grow ponderous and the tension in his muscles ease away. His breathing grew slower and heavier as the gentle breeze from the river fanned his skin. His chin lolled onto his chest and within moments he was in the depths of sleep.

A noise snagged him back to wakefulness. He opened his eyes and raised his head to listen. Silence. For a moment he thought the noise had not been from the waking world, but then he heard it again. The slow beat of hoofs and the trundle of wheels, followed by the sharp whinnying of horses. Eperitus pulled the sword from his belt and lay flat on his stomach against the steeply angled bank.

The road bent out of sight behind a cluster of cypress trees, hiding whoever was approaching, but soon a chariot with a team of four horses came slowly into view, followed by a large number of fully armed warriors. Because of the size of the escort, Eperitus thought at first that it was one of the more powerful suitors, on his way to the coast and a ship home, but as they came closer Eperitus could see Mentor at the reins with Odysseus and Penelope standing beside him. The couple looked magnificent together, and Eperitus felt a surge of happiness at the sight of them. Behind them came the small band of Ithacans, with Halitherses and Antiphus at their head, followed by a much larger troop of a further forty warriors.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Eperitus stood up and ran to greet them. At a command from Odysseus, Mentor halted the chariot and the prince jumped down to meet his friend.

‘I’ve been praying you would find us before we sailed for Ithaca,’ he said, taking Eperitus’s hand and pulling him into an embrace. ‘I’ve a lot to tell you about. Penelope and I were married.’

He nodded towards his wife, who was watching them from the chariot.

‘You old fox,’ Eperitus replied, feigning surprise. He looked up at Penelope and took pleasure from the sight of her calm, intelligent face. She smiled back at him with a happy gleam in her eye.

Odysseus gave him a roguish grin as the other Ithacans gathered around them, their faces full of surprise and joy at the unexpected reunion. Halitherses put his arms about Eperitus and held him in a bearlike grip, a rare sign of affection from the guard captain. As he stepped away, Antiphus gave the young warrior a hug and roughed up his hair affectionately, welcoming him back into the ranks.