The Gates Of Troy Part 4

'That's enough, Antiphus,' Odysseus ordered. He had told his close friends some years before that the G.o.ddess had appeared to him and Eperitus on Mount Parna.s.sus and at her temple in Messene, and the news had quickly become common knowledge throughout Ithaca; but the king still felt uncomfortable whenever people mentioned it. 'The fact is, she came to tell me that Penelope is in labour and that I should return home as soon as possible.'

'Zeus's beard!' Antiphus shouted, causing the rest of the men to look over. 'But Actoris said the child wouldn't come for at least three weeks.'

Odysseus adjusted the shield on his back and picked up his spears. 'Actoris is only a nursemaid,' he said. 'Artemis is the G.o.ddess of childbirth and it's she who decides when and how a child comes into the world. So, with your permission, Antiphus, I'd like to set off for Ithaca at once.'

'Of course, my lord,' Antiphus said quietly, ashamed that he had kept the king waiting with his questions.

Odysseus smiled and patted him on the shoulder, then set off at a fast run along the woodland track.

Eurylochus was asleep with his back against the bole of a sycamore tree when Argus, Odysseus's boarhound, woke him with a bark. He opened his eyes to see the puppy standing by his feet, his ears erect and an expectant look in his eyes.

'Get lost, you stupid beast,' Eurylochus frowned. 'Can't you see I'm sleeping?'

He closed his eyes and turned his head away, but Argus placed his front paws on his lap and gave another bark, more urgent and much louder this time. Eurylochus's eyes snapped open and with an angry grunt he shoved the dog into the cold ruin of the campfire, where he gave a yelp and kicked up a cloud of ashes as he scrambled free.

'd.a.m.n you, dog!' Eurylochus shouted, wafting away the fine particles that filled the air and choking as he breathed them down into his lungs. He leapt to his feet and ran towards the puppy, bent on giving the animal a hard kick. Argus was too quick for him, though, and ran off through the trees, where the echoes of his barking could still be heard for some time.

Eurylochus patted the ash from his clothes and, feeling almost as annoyed as he had after his confrontation with Eperitus earlier that morning, looked around for something to wet his throat. A skin of wine was hanging from a branch at the edge of the camp, so he strolled over and took a mouthful of the cool, refreshing liquid. The camp was on the edge of the wood, overlooking a sloping pasture that led down to the narrow channel between Samos and Ithaca, and after another swallow of wine Eurylochus leaned his shoulder against a tree and looked out at the view. The bright, early spring sunshine was reflecting back from the choppy waters below and illuminating the white gulls as they wheeled and cried over the waves. Behind them, the rocky bulk of Ithaca loomed up like a black sea-monster basking in the morning's warmth. To the south of the island, the dark waters of the Ionian Sea spread out towards the mainland of the Peloponnese, a low, grey profile on the horizon.

Then Eurylochus heard Argus's bark returning through the woods, accompanied by the sound of crashing undergrowth and the shouts of several men. Fearing danger, Eurylochus ran to grab his shield and spear from the tree where he had leaned them then turned to face whoever was approaching the camp at such speed.

'Who's there?' he called, the terror clear in his voice.

Suddenly, Odysseus's heavy, triangular bulk could be seen weaving its way through the trees at a fast run, with Argus barking at his heels. 'Lower your spear and get the camp packed up,' he shouted. 'We need to return to Ithaca at once.'

'But why?' Eurylochus asked, leaning his spear back against the tree. 'I thought we were going to stay on Samos for a few days' hunting.'

Odysseus leapt over the screen of ferns that edged the camp and came to a halt by the scattered remains of the fire. He rested his hands on his knees and breathed deeply, his face red with the exertion of running. The others, led by Eperitus and Arceisius, were now visible sprinting through the trees towards the camp.

'We received a message,' Odysseus gasped, 'that Penelope is in labour. So we're going back. Where's that squire of mine?'

'I sent Eurybates down to the ship to prepare food for the midday meal.'

'Well, if we eat at all, it'll be back at the palace. I'll head down to the galley pack up this stuff and follow on as quickly as you can.'

'Wait for me,' Eperitus said, almost collapsing with exhaustion as he broke through the screen of ferns and stood wheezing next to Odysseus. 'Arceisius, gather up my gear and bring it down to the ship. I'll go with the king.'

'Yes, sir,' the squire replied, his usually ruddy face now an even brighter red and shining with sweat.

Eurylochus gave Eperitus a frosty glare, then turned his back on him and began angrily stuffing bowls and cooking gear into a large sack. The others had all reached the camp by now and were already rolling up their bedding and throwing their belongings into leather bags. Odysseus placed a hand on Eperitus's shoulder and pulled himself straight.

'Come on then, Eperitus,' he sighed. 'This is no time to take a rest.'

They jogged through the last of the trees and down the slope towards the water's edge. Argus bounded ahead of them, barking happily in the bright sunshine. Below them was a small cove edged by a thin crescent of sand, where their galley drifted gently at its anchor. Beyond it was the narrow sleeve of dark water that separated Samos from Ithaca, and as they ran they stared at the familiar outline of the smaller island. The southern half where the majority of its population made their living as fishermen, or from farming the little fertile land that existed was low, wide and sheer-sided. A tooth-like peak guarded the narrow isthmus that led to the northern half, where the near-vertical walls of Mount Neriton rose up to dominate the island. Beyond the mountain's ma.s.s was the princ.i.p.al town of Ithaca, and at its centre the palace of Odysseus, where Penelope was in the throes of labour. Eperitus caught sight of Odysseus's face as he looked towards his home, and could see the anxiety in his eyes.

With the help of Eurybates, a short, round-shouldered man with dark skin and curly hair, they fitted the spar to the mast before the others had reached the ship. Then, once every man was aboard and the oars had been fed out into the calm waters of the bay, they pulled up the anchor stone and unfurled the dolphin-motifed sail.

Eperitus and Antiphus sat next to each other at the back of the galley, with Arceisius and Polites on the adjacent bench; the rest of the men were spread evenly along the length of the ship, each pair gripping one of the long-handled oars. Odysseus stood in the stern accompanied by Argus, and at his command the crew lowered their oars and began to row, gradually easing the galley over the calm waters of the cove towards the rapid current of the channel beyond. But before they could feel the sweat p.r.i.c.kle in their armpits, the wind caught the sail with a ferocious snap and sucked them out into the choppy sea. Each man pulled in his oar and, after helping Antiphus make a correction to the angle of the sail, Eperitus went back to join Odysseus.

'Penelope'll be fine,' he a.s.sured him, trying to disguise his own anxiety with a smile. 'She's a strong woman and the G.o.ds have always been with her.'

Odysseus nodded, his eyes focused on the open sea as he pulled at the twin rudders. 'I'm sure she will and my son, too.'

'Actoris says it's a girl for sure.'

'Actoris also said the baby wasn't due for at least three weeks!' Odysseus scoffed. 'And now that we've seen Athena again, I know my dream of the other night was from her. It'll be a boy, whatever any old maid thinks.'

They fell silent for a while, their thoughts turning from the birth of Odysseus's child to the appearance of the G.o.ddess. Eventually, as the galley fell under the shadow of the steep flanks of Mount Neriton, Eperitus could hold his silence no longer. 'What do you make of it all, Odysseus Athena's words, I mean, about war with Troy? And why on earth would you want to spend twenty years away from home?'

'I wouldn't,' Odysseus replied, simply. 'And I won't not with a family to care for and a kingdom to rule. Ithaca's king owes no allegiance to Mycenae, and if Agamemnon still wants war against Priam then he'll have to do without me. I don't care for battle and glory not like you do, Eperitus; my heart is here, in these islands with my family and friends. If the call to war does come, then I'll find a way out of it. It's you I'm worried about.'

Eperitus stared at him. 'What do you mean?' he asked, at the same time feeling like a thief caught in a man's home.

'I'm not a fool,' Odysseus said with a short laugh. 'You're a warrior, Eperitus, and these islands that I love with all my heart must be like a prison for you. I know that you often climb to the top of Mount Neriton and look out at the mainland, no doubt yearning to go and find adventure on some foreign battlefield. And I saw the way Athena questioned you she knows where your heart is, too. It's only your vow to serve me that's kept you here for so long, and your friendship. And if you weren't the best friend I have, I would consider releasing you from your oath.'

Eperitus looked across the bow of the ship to the rapidly approaching harbour, where several fishing vessels were drawn up on the sand and two galleys lay at anchor on the smooth waters. 'I wouldn't want to be released,' he said quietly. 'As I told the G.o.ddess, if war is coming then I'll face it at your side.'

'Let's see what the Fates hold for us,' Odysseus replied. 'Now, get back to the benches and tell Antiphus to lower the sail we'll row the rest of the way into harbour.'

But Antiphus had already given orders for the sail to be furled and for the oars to be readied. Eperitus took his place beside him, sliding the pine oar between its pegs and fastening the handle with a leather strap. He felt the strain in his arms and shoulders as the blade bit the water, then picked up the rhythm of the rest of the crew as they rowed the galley into the small inlet that nestled at the northern foot of Mount Neriton. The calm waters of the sheltered bay offered little resistance, and soon the splash of the anchor stone was followed by the shouts of men as they lowered a small boat over the side.

Odysseus told Antiphus and Arceisius to wait for him and Eperitus in the boat, then turned to Polites.

'Come with us, friend. You've not seen my home yet, and as you're now one of the palace guard I want your first experience to be a happy one.'

Polites bowed his head but said nothing. Leaving their weapons and equipment in the ship, they climbed down into the waiting boat which dipped alarmingly as Polites stepped onto it and rowed to sh.o.r.e. They left Arceisius to take the boat back to the galley, then ran up a narrow road that led to the town above. A group of women, filling clay jars from a spring at the side of the road, looked on in silence as they pa.s.sed. Eperitus wondered whether they had any news about Penelope, but had no time to ask as the king led them on towards the town. Soon they were pa.s.sing the first houses, and shortly afterwards had reached the open terrace before the palace walls.

Large numbers of people were standing around in the midday sun. Most were peasants or slave women, many with baskets of clothes under their arms, jars of water on their shoulders or babies on their hips. Here and there old men conversed with each other in animated tones, their grey beards wagging and their crooked fingers poking emphatically at each other's chests. Groups of children ran in and out between the knots of adults, shouting and screaming as they chased and caught one another. It annoyed Eperitus to see them gathered there, clamouring like vultures as they awaited news of the royal birth; they seemed not to care that their queen's fate was in the hands of Artemis, who from time to time saw fit to take the life of a mother or baby.

Odysseus had stopped and was staring at the open gate in the outer wall of the palace. At the sight of their king, the din of voices gradually grew quiet and soon all eyes were upon him.

'What is it, Odysseus?' Eperitus said in a low voice, standing next to him and holding his elbow. 'Do you want me to go in and ask?'

'No,' Odysseus said, shaking his head as if waking from a dream. 'No, of course not. I just felt a moment of uncertainty. As if . . .'

'Don't say it,' Eperitus said, squeezing his elbow. 'It's natural to be afraid, but she's in good hands. Promise Artemis the sacrifice of a goat if she'll see Penelope and the child safe, and then let's go in.'

'A goat?' Odysseus said, looking his friend in the eye. 'If everything goes well, she'll have my best bull before night-time the thigh bones and fat, which all the G.o.ds love. And we'll feast on everything else, eh? Come on, Eperitus, let's find out whether I'm a father yet.'

They walked through to the courtyard, followed by Antiphus and Polites (the sight of whom caused a great stir in the crowd). The scene inside the walls was no less busy than on the terrace outside, with slaves and soldiers scurrying to carry out their duties. Since taking over from his father, Odysseus had transformed Ithaca from a poor, unsophisticated kingdom into a prosperous and bustling state. His palace had also grown in size and richness: in Laertes's day, it had been a tired and neglected place with no more than two dozen slaves and a guard of thirty men; now it was completely rebuilt, boasting hundreds of slaves and a standing army of three hundred soldiers.

It was an achievement that Odysseus could be justifiably proud of, though many of his decisions had proved unpopular to start with. The first of these concerned Eupeithes, the affluent merchant who had initiated the rebellion against his father. Laertes's last act as king had been to banish the traitor to Dulichium, but after a year on the throne Odysseus had brought him back and appointed him his chief adviser on trade. In a single stroke, he had gained the benefit of his former enemy's commercial ac.u.men and guaranteed his loyalty and support (if causing Laertes a certain amount of anger and embarra.s.sment). Odysseus also made peace with the Taphians, who had supported Eupeithes's rebellion, and now counted their chieftain, Mentes, as one of his closest friends. Eventually, the whole of Ithaca came to appreciate their king's wisdom and learned to trust his judgement.

Eperitus had always believed in Odysseus's cleverness, but it was for his hard-working nature that he respected him most. As they walked across the busy courtyard, he looked about at the many improvements his friend had made. Their visit to Sparta years ago had impressed on Odysseus that a king's home reflected his position and authority, and he had quickly set about redesigning the palace and helping in its reconstruction. The ash planks of the threshold to the great hall, which they were now approaching, had been cut to length and fitted by the king himself; even the cypress pillars that supported the roof had been tapered and rubbed smooth by his hands. His mark was in every aspect of the kingdom, and soon it would be made complete. The child that he and Penelope had wanted for ten years would continue his bloodline and, more importantly, preserve the memory of his deeds so that when death claimed his body it would not claim his renown also.

As Eperitus pondered these things, the doors of the great hall swung open to reveal a tall woman standing in the shadows. She was dressed in a white chiton with a bright-red cloak draped over her shoulders. Her tangled brown hair was tucked behind her ears, revealing a pale face with dark, tired eyes that blinked against the bright sunlight. Penelope's calm beauty reminded Eperitus of the first time he and Odysseus had seen her, at a feast in Sparta ten years before. Then she had worn a full-length, green dress and her hair had been tied in a ponytail that danced cheerfully with each movement of her head. Odysseus had fallen in love with her that night, and with a combination of persistence and wiliness he had won her heart and made her his queen.

She turned and received a small white bundle from her body slave, Actoris, who stood in the deeper shadows behind her. Then she stepped forward into the sunlight and, with a smile, held the silent baby at arm's length towards her husband.

'It's a boy,' she said, as Odysseus mounted the threshold and took the child in his arms.

The king looked down at his son and there were tears in his eyes. The people who had been criss-crossing the courtyard now stopped and stared at their king and queen, while at the gates the crowd pressed so close that many were forced over the porch. The hubbub of voices from beyond the palace walls fell silent, and in that moment of blissful peace Odysseus pulled Penelope to him and kissed her with a fierce pa.s.sion. Then he stepped forward and, raising his son above his head, showed him to all who could see.

'A son!' he boomed proudly, the tears now flowing down his cheeks into his beard.

A great cheer erupted from the crowd of onlookers, and as the noise swept back through the town Odysseus took the sleeping child back into his arms and whispered something in Penelope's ear. Then he turned and beckoned Eperitus to join them.

Despite the continued cheering and his father's handling of him, the baby was still asleep as Eperitus looked down at him. He had a red face with little features that were screwed up as if with concentration; his tiny fists were pulled up to his cheeks, and his head was covered in shiny black hair that curled in every direction.

'What will you call him?' he asked, looking at Odysseus and Penelope. The king was still staring down at the child, studying the miniature details of his son, but Penelope met Eperitus's eyes and smiled.

'It's the father's duty to name his son,' she said.

'Telemachus. His name is Telemachus,' Odysseus answered. He gave Eperitus a wide grin. 'And when he's old enough to walk, you can teach him to use a sword and throw a spear.'

'And I'll teach him how to use a bow,' Antiphus added, stepping onto the raised threshold. He was followed by Polites, whose brutal face was softened with wonder as he stared down at the baby. Then Actoris appeared and reminded Penelope that the child should not be exposed too long to the sun.

Eperitus slipped into the crowd that had formed before the threshold. As he made for the gate, an old woman stopped him.

'Is it true what they're saying, sir?' she asked eagerly. 'A son?'

'Yes, a healthy looking lad,' he replied, forcing a smile.

'Praise Zeus and Artemis and all the G.o.ds!' she exulted, holding both hands in the air and spinning round with glee.

But Eperitus was already starting to run, wanting to be as far away from the cheering crowds as his legs could take him. He forced his way through the press of bodies until he was beyond the town and climbing the twisting path that led up the flanks of Mount Neriton. When he reached the top he relieved the lookout of his duties and sat down beneath the thatched awning that provided the only shelter from sun, rain or wind, and looked out at the blue ma.s.s of the Peloponnese. He watched the merchant ships drift gently up and down the coast until the setting of the sun forced them to find ports or inlets for the night. The eastern sky was beginning to pale and the rocks all around him had turned a gentle shade of pink, reflecting the crimson fire in the sky behind Eperitus as the sun sank below the western edge of the world. Then he heard the sound of loosened gravel and saw Arceisius approach from the direction of the town.

'I saw Thestor wandering around the palace,' he said as he approached the awning, 'when I knew he should have been up here, so I guessed this was where I might find you.'

'Did you bring any wine?' Eperitus replied. 'I'm as thirsty as a hunted deer.'

'I've some water,' Arceisius said, slipping a leather bag from his shoulder and tossing it towards his master. 'You were missed down there. Odysseus was asking everyone if they'd seen you.'

'I thought he needed some time with his new family.'

'Is that all, sir?' Arceisius asked. Though young, he was not blind to his master's anguish.

Eperitus stood and looked down at the wine-dark sea, washing the jagged skirts of the mountain far below with its ceaseless rocking.

'No, Arceisius. No, it's not. I'm thinking of leaving Ithaca.'

'But Ithaca's your home.'

'Ithaca's my prison,' Eperitus retorted, instantly regretting his sharp tone. 'I'm sorry, Arceisius. It's just that, suddenly, everything's changing, as if I'm being reminded that my destiny lies beyond Ithaca. I've been thinking of my father for some time, wanting to wipe away the shame of what he did. Then there was the fight this morning. It was the first time I've killed a man in ten years, and I enjoyed it not the killing, as such, but the thrill of danger and the pride of victory. It woke something inside me, a yearning for glory that's been dormant for too long, and a need to prove myself.'

'But you have proved yourself,' Arceisius protested. 'If it wasn't for you Ithaca would be ruled by Taphians.'

Eperitus shook his head. 'I'm still a warrior, Arceisius Odysseus reminded me of that on the ship, and it was he who said Ithaca is a prison to me. But do you know what it was that made me decide to leave? The sight of that baby in Odysseus's arms. After all, a man needs a sense of his own eternity, something that will carry his memory beyond death. Telemachus will give that to Odysseus. But it made me realize that I'm slipping into obscurity. I need to get back out into the world and make a name for myself in battle that's all I ever dreamed of when I was your age.'

The wind, which had been constant since Eperitus had reached the top of Mount Neriton, whipped at their cloaks and hair, bringing to them the sounds of the sea crashing against the rocks far below. The chariot of the sun had disappeared and in the cool of the evening they saw the first stars shining in the deep blue skies above.

'And now there's talk of war in the east,' Eperitus continued. 'A great war between Troy and the whole of Greece. Odysseus knows about it and is determined not to be drawn in. But for the likes of me and you, if you're willing, Arceisius it's an opportunity to become what we were always meant to be: warriors, killing and dying for the sake of glory.'

The squire took the skin from his master's hand and swallowed a mouthful of water. For a long time they watched the Peloponnese fade and the sea grow darker, then Arceisius broke the thought-filled silence.

'Let's go back, while we can still find our footing.'

'I'm leaving for the mainland,' Eperitus said. 'Once Telemachus has been dedicated to the G.o.ds I intend to ask Odysseus to release me from my oath. If he does, I will go to Mycenae and join the army of King Agamemnon.'

Then I'll come with you, sir,' Arceisius replied. 'It felt strange killing that man this morning, but I know now it was only because I'd crossed a threshold into a new world. I'm a warrior now, and I don't think I'll ever find happiness on Ithaca again.'

Menelaus sat on his raised throne and eyed the Trojan prince with stern formality.

'Well, Paris, son of Priam, I'm told you want to see me as a matter of urgency. What is it you wish to discuss?'

A broad column of light plunged like a waterfall from a vent in the high ceiling of the great hall, illuminating the Spartan king as he waited for a response. Paris stood stiffly before him, with Apheidas and Aeneas on either side. The low flames of the hearth crackled behind them and they felt its warmth in the smalls of their backs, coaxing the sweat from their armpits and increasing their discomfort.

Paris cleared his throat and stepped forward into the golden, dust-filled light.

'I come with an offer of alliance from the king of Troy,' he began. 'My father is a great man, but his greatness lies in his desire for peace and friendship with his neighbours. With this wish at heart, he has sent me to speak with you and the other significant kings of Greece.'

'Priam rules over an empire of va.s.sal cities that pay him homage and provide him with ships and armies to serve his will,' Menelaus interrupted. 'From all reports, the G.o.ds have already blessed your father with wealth and power far beyond the needs of any man. What could he possibly gain from an alliance with Sparta, or any city in Greece?'

'Peace, most importantly,' Paris answered. 'And the freedom to trade, the life blood of all truly civilized peoples.'

'But trade thrives, even though the Trojans have been demanding tribute from Greek merchants for some years now. Does your offer of alliance include the removal of this unjust taxation on our goods?'

'I will raise the matter with my father, if everything goes well.'

'You should grant this as an immediate concession if you expect any kind of profit from our meeting.'

'There will be no immediate concessions,' Paris countered. 'Priam wants cordial relations between Trojans and Greeks, to our mutual benefit.'

Menelaus leaned back in his chair and stroked his beard, eyeing Paris shrewdly. 'To our mutual benefit, but at a cost to Greece no doubt. And what does Priam want in exchange for the friendship of Troy?'

'There is something,' Paris nodded. 'My father's desire for peace and trade is genuine, but the plain truth is he's getting old, and old men are sentimental. He wants his family around him: he wants Hesione back.'

Menelaus looked at him through narrowed eyes.

'Telamon married Hesione thirty years ago,' he said. 'She was his by right of conquest, after he and Heracles sacked Troy. Do you refute this?'

'That is what the Greeks believe, but we Trojans say she was raped and kidnapped by Telamon.'

Menelaus raised a quizzical eyebrow. 'Shame and defeat often bring denial. But whatever the truth about Hesione, she has been Telamon's wife for many years now and has given him a son, Teucer the archer. And if I remember correctly, a Trojan delegation was sent to Salamis some time ago and rejected by Telamon himself.'

Aeneas stepped forward.

'Anchises, my father, was amongst them,' he said, angrily. 'The Greeks treated him like dirt and he and the others barely escaped with their lives!'