Glyn Iliffe - King of Ithaca (Adventures of Odysseus)

‘Find your wife, Odysseus. Let me tend Mentor; you just go – and hurry.’

Odysseus was loath to leave his mother unguarded, but was racked by the sense that Penelope was in urgent danger. He kissed her on the cheek, then ran from the room and down the steps to the lower floor. Beyond the passageway where the bodies of the Taphians lay he could hear the clash of bronze upon bronze in the courtyard. Men were shouting, though the words would not carry to him, and the cacophony of battle was punctuated by the screams of dying men.

Without pause, he turned right and followed the passageway until he reached the entrance to the great hall. There was no guard, so he raised his sword point and walked boldly in to meet whatever perils lay in wait.

The hearth burned low in the middle of the room, just as it had on the day that he and his men had left for Sparta. The previously smoke-stained walls were now bright with a fresh coating of limewash. Upon this were sketched the ghostlike outlines of murals yet to be painted, giving the familiar hall a curiously alien feeling. The great doors that gave access to the courtyard beyond were barred shut, ensuring nothing would disturb Odysseus and the men who had taken his father’s throne.

They stood on the other side of the hearth, their shapes distorted by the heat from the flames. The Taphian warriors were armed with bows, each aiming an arrow at the lone intruder. Between them stood Polytherses, his arm wrapped about Penelope’s waist and holding her to him. His free hand held a dagger to her throat.

Chapter Thirty

KING OF ITHACA

A Taphian warrior stepped out from the gates. His face was covered in blood and rivulets of gore stained the sword he carried, which Eperitus could only think was the blood of Odysseus, Mentor or Antiphus. He beckoned the Ithacans to come to him.

Eperitus drew the sword from his belt and moved towards the Taphian, determined to cut him down, but at the same moment Antiphus appeared next to the mercenary and shouted for them to come. Suddenly they could hear the sounds of battle from the courtyard and realized that the man at the gate was Mentes, his features hidden by the mask of blood. Eperitus ordered Arceisius to help Halitherses then, half-turning to the remainder of the Ithacans, pointed his sword at the gates. No words were needed. As a single body they ran towards the palace, cheering in their hunger to meet the Taphians in battle. Most of the men had lived under their cruel regime for too long and wanted revenge; the guards who had accompanied Odysseus to Sparta had dreamed of this moment for months and were no less fervent in their bloodlust. Within moments they were cramming through the gates and into the courtyard.

Diocles and his Spartans were desperately holding off a great press of Taphians, but as the Ithacans joined them the enemy’s advantage was lost and they backed away. Dismayed by the loss of the gates and the number of men pouring in through them, they retreated across the compound and re-formed before the pillared threshold of the great hall, ready to confront the assault. Meanwhile, the last man through the gates was the bronze-smith, who had left Eumaeus with the waiting townsfolk and returned to the fight. He was accompanied by a dozen new recruits from the city, who had found their courage in the dawn light and decided to risk everything for their true king.

They formed up to face the enemy horde, absorbing Mentes, Antiphus and the Spartans into their ranks. Eperitus looked about in surprise at the carnage within the courtyard, where the corpses of several Taphians lay as if sleeping. Then he saw their opened throats and realized that Odysseus and the others must have been busy with their daggers whilst their hosts slept. It explained the smaller force of Taphians who faced them – their numbers were now evenly matched – but raised his concerns about the whereabouts of his friend, whose bloody corpse could be amongst the trampled bodies.

‘I hear Halitherses is injured, and that you’re leading us now.’

Eperitus turned to see Antiphus. He was barely recognizable, bathed in gore and armed with the strange weaponry of a Taphian warrior.

‘Yes, unless Odysseus is with you,’ he answered, hoping the prince would suddenly appear from amongst the throng of men.

‘He and Mentor are inside the palace, searching for Penelope,’ Antiphus explained. He briefly summarized all that had passed since they parted company the night before. It seemed Odysseus’s plans had been more successful than expected, despite his being captured as they were about to open the gates. Athena had been faithful to her beloved Odysseus.

As they spoke a flock of arrows fell amongst them. Most of the townsfolk had no shields and quickly took shelter behind the guards, who instinctively moved forward to form a wall against the enemy archers. Antiphus took a few of the men to retrieve the bows and arrows of the dead Taphians by the gates, then, taking shelter behind the ranks of their colleagues, began to return the fire of their opponents. The exchange of arrows inflicted casualties on both sides, but the Taphian archers outnumbered the Ithacans and most of the fallen were amongst the unshielded islanders. Seeing this, the mercenaries were happy to remain safely ensconced before the doors of the great hall, waiting for the time when the advantage of numbers would weigh in their favour. Then they would engage them in face-to-face combat, when the recruits from the town would prove easy prey for the long spears of the fully armoured enemy warriors. Realizing this, Eperitus picked up a discarded spear and stepped out between the two opposing armies.

The Taphian arrows stopped and were replaced by jeers and insults from their ranks. It reminded him of the day he had first met Odysseus on the foothills of Mount Parnassus, when he had killed the Theban deserter. Kissing the shaft of his spear as he had done then, he launched it at the massed ranks before him. A man toppled backward with a scream, the spear held fast in his groin, and suddenly the Taphian jeers were replaced by a triumphant shout from the Ithacans. Drawing his sword, Eperitus led them into the attack.

The enemy archers only had time to fire a half-volley of arrows before the Ithacans were amongst them. Eperitus clashed shields with a spearman in their front rank, knocking him sideways with the momentum of his attack and slashing at his exposed back with his sword. He gave a scream and toppled into the dirt, where Eperitus left him to be finished off by the men behind. Two more Taphians now faced him, jabbing at him with their long spears whilst keeping out of reach of his sword. He tried desperately to knock the weapons aside and slip inside their reach, but whenever he succeeded with one spear the other would press him back.

Then, in the few moments before the weight of numbers behind him would push them inevitably together, he was joined by an Ithacan armed with a spear. He was young, frightened and knew little of warfare, and quickly fell victim to a skilful jab from one of the Taphians. But in that moment Eperitus was able to force himself inside the long reach of their weapons, where only a sword would be effective. He hacked at a face above one of the tall shields and split the man’s features across the bridge of his nose. He dropped his weapons and turned away, clutching at his eyes and screaming with pain. Eperitus finished him with a thrust of his sword.

He turned to engage the other man, who had discarded his spear and drawn the long blade from his belt. With the press of struggling men all around, it was hard to remain out of striking distance as they eyed each other closely, trying to guess when and how the first attack would come. The Taphian, like all his countrymen, was tall and had the longer reach, but in the crush of battle Eperitus knew that could be just as much of a disadvantage. He edged closer and his opponent lunged at his face with the point of his weapon. Eperitus deflected the thrust with his shield, then swept his sword across the outstretched arm and severed it at the elbow. The man reeled away in pain and Eperitus left him to retreat into the mass of his comrades, clutching at the stump of his arm.