Glyn Iliffe - King of Ithaca (Adventures of Odysseus)

He looked about himself at the two or three score of warriors who were approaching the wagon from every corner of the courtyard. Although it lifted his heart to see again the familiar surroundings of his home, it dismayed him to see this place – his childhood playground – filled with foreign soldiers. He halted the wagon and ordered Mentor and Antiphus to pass down the wine.

The Taphians cheered with delight and eager groups of men gathered at the back of the cart, ready to receive the heavy clay jars and pass them back to their waiting comrades. Others called on servants from the palace to bring food and, more importantly, water to mix with the wine. That was when Odysseus saw his father’s ageing housekeeper come out of the palace at the head of a column of slaves bearing food and water.

As she began directing them in their duties, Odysseus called quietly on Athena to keep the old woman from looking up at the wagon and seeing him. The least sign of recognition from her or any of the slaves would bring a swift doom upon the disguised Ithacans. But Eurynome did not look up from her work, and as soon as enough water had been fetched and the food brought from the kitchens, she and the other servants retreated as far from the unruly Taphians as possible. Not one slave remained in the courtyard as Mentes drove the now empty wagon over to the stables against the eastern wall of the compound.

He prepared to jump down and unyoke the oxen, but was quickly deterred by the press of Odysseus’s dagger against his side. Instead of sitting back down, though, Mentes slowly closed his hand over the blade and, looking the Ithacan in the eye, moved the weapon aside.

‘You cannot stay beside me all night long, Odysseus. I have friends here who will want me to join them, and then what will you say? You have no choice but to trust me.’

Odysseus knew the Taphian was right. The fact they had not been detected thus far showed that the gods were with them, and if they were to succeed he would have to trust much more in them and in Mentes. So he tucked the knife into his belt and nodded.

‘You’re right. But I want you to stay with us, no matter who wants you to join them. And you aren’t to drink anything. Is that understood?’

Mentes smiled, then jumped down and went to unharness the team, leading the beasts individually into the stables. As he did so a handful of Taphians approached, shouting friendly greetings in their rough dialect. Odysseus looked behind himself to make sure their weapons remained well covered, then waited for their enemies to reach them.

‘Welcome to Ithaca, friends,’ one of the men began. He was tall and had a scarred face. ‘Why don’t you join us for a drop of your own merchandise? We’ll be happy to hear news from the mainland.’

Mentes reappeared and met each of the group with a quick embrace, speaking their names in turn.

‘These men have travelled far and are tired,’ he said. ‘Let them keep their own company this evening. I will stay with them and act as host, so that they do not think we Taphians are inhospitable. There’ll be plenty of time in the morning to hear stories from far-off lands.’

‘No,’ Odysseus said, to the surprise of his companions, ‘we aren’t so tired that we can’t share a bit of news with men who want to hear it – and some of what I have to say might be of great worth. If you have a few portions of meat and a cup of wine to spare, we’ll be glad to share with you.’

‘Then come and join us by the main fire over there,’ the scarred man said, pleased at the prospect of a tale or two to go with the new abundance of wine. ‘We will go and see that spaces are made for you, and food and wine set aside.’

‘Are you insane?’ Mentor hissed as the Taphians returned to the fire. ‘You’ll get us all killed, and for what?’

‘Have some faith in your old friend. All you need to do is remember you’re a wine merchant. And don’t reveal your true name, of course – there’ll be a time for that tomorrow.’

Soon they were seated in the midst of their enemies, the very men who had stolen their homes from them and imposed a brutal regime upon their families and countrymen. Unless their identities were revealed, by dawn of the next day they would be fighting to kill each other with all semblance of friendship forgotten; but for now they could do little else but eat the food placed before them and sip at their wine.

Then the scar-faced man asked Odysseus his name and lineage, and on being told he was called Castor, son of Hylax (this time of Athens), demanded to hear what was happening on the mainland of Greece. Others echoed the call – all Greeks love a story – and Odysseus began without delay. He told them of the affairs of state back in Athens, which were true events told to Odysseus by Menestheus when they had courted Helen together. Though they were mundane issues, he was able to embroider them to make each event lively and interesting. Eventually he mentioned the departure of their king to Sparta, which, as Odysseus had intended, brought immediate demands for news of the now famous gathering. What did he know? they asked him, and when he admitted to knowing very little they begged him to tell them whatever information he could spare.

At the time of their leaving Athens, he said, King Menestheus had not returned from Sparta, though there was rumour that a suitor had been chosen. This caused a stir amongst the Taphians, who had been made excitable by the amount of wine already consumed, and inevitably one amongst them asked the question they had all wanted to ask – what had he heard about Odysseus of Ithaca?

Odysseus wetted his lips with the wine in his cup and looked about at the wall of faces, bathed orange by the firelight. From what he knew, he said, the Ithacan prince was highly regarded amongst his fellow suitors. He was supposedly a great warrior – the equal of Ajax or Diomedes – who carried a horn bow given to him by the god Apollo. He had already defeated a much larger force of bandits on his way to Sparta (at this, the Taphians muttered energetically with each other), and shortly afterwards had single-handedly saved the goddess Athena from a gigantic, man-eating serpent (at this, Mentor coughed loudly and shot Odysseus a stern glance).

The prince continued undeterred. What was more, Odysseus was reputed to be a man of irresistible charm. Not only had the great Helen of Sparta chosen him for her husband, he had also gained the sympathy and support of the other suitors. It was even rumoured that a combined force of Spartans, Mycenaeans, Argives, Myrmidons and others were gathering from all over Greece, preparing to liberate Ithaca. On hearing this there was a great uproar amongst the Taphians, at which Odysseus stood and held up his hands for silence. He stressed it was nothing more than a bit of hearsay he had picked up from another merchant, which he himself did not believe. However, the truth of the rumour would be easy to prove: if such a gathering really was taking place, then it was also said that a small vanguard of Spartans were to be sent to Ithaca to prepare a camp and scout out the rebels’ defences.

Again the crowd of Taphians erupted. Fear and panic seemed to seize the courtyard as scores of voices were lifted in debate about Odysseus’s return, and whether he was really bringing an army with him. The Ithacans took the opportunity to slip away unnoticed.

‘You’ve got guts,’ Mentor told his friend as they settled down on the soft ground beneath their wagon. His voice was even, but seethed with disciplined anger. ‘And yet I can’t understand why you took such a risk, just to give them a fright. It’ll only put them more on their guard.’

‘Or make them throw down their arms in surrender as soon as our attack begins,’ Antiphus added.