The Gates Of Troy Part 8

'Mistress Athena!' Odysseus called. His voice, stronger than the wind, carried out towards the maddening waves. 'Proud lady of Trito! Virgin daughter of Zeus! Most glorious and great G.o.ddess, I call on you to accept the dedication of my son, Telemachus. Bestow on him your protection and guidance, just as you honoured my father's request for me. Make him strong and courageous, teach him the crafts of war, and endow him with wisdom. Seek for him the blessings of the other Olympians, so that he will be loved and honoured among men. And Mistress,' he added after a pause, 'allow me to remain on Ithaca and watch my son grow to manhood.'

Odysseus lowered Telemachus into his mother's waiting arms. As Penelope wrapped the baby in the thick woollen cloth, she gave her husband a questioning look. Odysseus, who had never told her about the doom predicted for him on Mount Parna.s.sus, did not hold her gaze.

'Give me the lamb, Eurybates,' he commanded. 'And mix the wine.'

The animal began to kick out, as if it knew what was about to happen, but Odysseus held it tighter and drew the blade across its throat. Vivid red blood began to pour from the opening and Odysseus let the lamb fall into the thick gra.s.s by his feet, where it twitched and continued to kick until the last of its life had pumped out of its body. A moment later, he turned to Eurybates, took the krater of wine he held and poured a little on the ground in a silent libation. Then he took a sip and held out the krater to Eperitus.

'Do you still consent to be Telemachus's protector?' he asked.

Eperitus paused. Odysseus had asked him years before to be the protector of his children, should anything happen to him, and he had agreed without hesitation. Even as the king had reminded him of his promise during Penelope's pregnancy, he had confirmed he would accept the duty. But since the birth of Telemachus and his realization that his destiny lay beyond the safe and homely sh.o.r.es of Ithaca, Eperitus had questioned whether he was still the right man. Though he said nothing of his doubts to Odysseus, he had considered asking Mentor Odysseus's friend since boyhood whether he would take the role. In the end, though, Arceisius persuaded him to keep to his original promise. Even if they joined Agamemnon's army and went to war with Troy, they would still be able to return to Ithaca from time to time, and Penelope would know where to send a message should anything happen that would require Eperitus to fulfil his vows. With this in mind, he took the proffered krater and poured a dribble of the dark liquid onto the gra.s.s.

'I consent to protect Telemachus from any who would do him harm, and provide for him if his parents cannot; and I call upon all the G.o.ds of Olympus to bear witness to my oath.'

He raised the krater to his lips and drank. The ceremony was over.

Penelope moved past her husband and kissed Eperitus on the cheek. 'Here,' she said, placing Telemachus into the captain's hands and standing beside him, looking down at her son and smiling with contentment. 'We want you to be a second father to him.'

Eperitus knew the time had come. He looked at Arceisius, who returned his gaze with a slight nod.

'I'm proud to be his protector,' Eperitus said, turning back to Penelope. 'But I can never be a second father to Telemachus.'

'Nonsense,' Odysseus scoffed. 'You've so much to offer him, and it won't be long before he learns to love you like a parent.'

Eperitus shook his head. 'You don't understand. He won't see enough of me to love me. Unlike you, I won't be around when his needs are greatest. The truth is . . . the truth is I'm leaving today and Arceisius is coming with me. I'm asking you to release me from my oath to you, Odysseus.'

Penelope stepped back as if she had been struck. In the same instant Odysseus moved forward, his expression incredulous. He placed his large hands on Eperitus's arms and looked him in the eye.

'I know I challenged you about this on our return from Samos, because I've always feared you would wish to leave one day, but why do you want to go now? Didn't you tell me you had no intention of leaving? Besides, if it's because of what the G.o.ddess said . . .' He glanced out of the corner of his eye and lowered his voice. 'If that's the reason, we don't even know yet that this war will happen. Until it does, you should stay here where you have friends and a position of authority, everything you need.'

'But I don't have everything I need!' Eperitus rejoined. 'Yes, I have good friends, a home in the palace, my own slaves and more wealth than I know what to do with, but what's the point of it all? What I want is something lasting, something to be remembered by when my flesh and bones have rotted in the ground or been turned to ash. You have Telemachus, a bloodline to carry forward your memory. I have nothing.'

'Then find a wife here,' Penelope said, holding her hands towards him. 'There are hundreds of beautiful women on these islands who could bring you happiness and children of your own. You could have married Odysseus's sister, but you never returned her interest and in the end her father let her go to that merchant in Samos, fearing she would get too old to marry.'

'But I don't want a quiet family life,' Eperitus replied, gently. 'I want to make a name for myself with my spear. I used to think I could live on this island and be happy, but in recent days I've come to realize I can't. I just hope you will forgive me, both of you.'

As he said these words, he caught a movement in the distance behind Odysseus's shoulder and stared out at the grey sea, where a large warship was cutting through the turbulent waves. Its deck was crowded with armoured soldiers, their weapons glinting like gold in the sunlight as they stared up at the rocky, inhospitable slopes of Ithaca. Above their heads, a gigantic purple sail snapped repeatedly in the strong wind. It bore the device of a golden lion pinning a deer beneath its huge paws as it tore out its throat with its teeth.

Odysseus, seeing the alarm on the faces of Eperitus, Arceisius and Eurybates, turned to watch for himself the swift progress of the galley as it rounded the headland.

'Arceisius,' Eperitus said, his voice calm but urgent. 'Run back to the palace and call out the guard. Send the townsfolk to their homes and a.s.semble the men on the terrace; Odysseus and I will follow shortly.'

'Wait!' Odysseus countermanded. 'They're not enemies: that sail belongs to the royal house of Mycenae. It's Agamemnon!'

'Agamemnon!' Eperitus repeated. 'But what's he doing here?'

'I don't know, but I've a nasty feeling it's to do with what Athena warned us about.'

Eperitus turned to the king and was surprised to see fear in his eyes. 'But if that's the case, what have you got to worry about? If Agamemnon is seeking recruits for war with Troy, then tell him it's nothing to do with you. It's just as you told Athena: you owe no allegiance to Mycenae or its king.'

'Not him,' Odysseus replied. 'But I do to Menelaus. I've been pondering the G.o.ddess's words to us, Eperitus, and I think I may have been caught out by one of my own tricks!'

'What are you two talking about?' Penelope asked, looking concerned as she rocked Telemachus gently in her arms. 'What's all this about Troy and Menelaus, and tricks?'

But Odysseus did not hear: he was looking around as if searching for something. His eyes narrowed in thought for a moment, and then he snapped his fingers and looked urgently at Eperitus.

'Was that old farmer still ploughing on the other side of that hill when you came over from the palace?'

'Yes, and he'll be there all day at the rate he was going.'

'Excellent! Arceisius, run to the palace and get Eurylochus to call out a guard of honour for Agamemnon and possibly his brother, Menelaus. Then I want you to bring an a.s.s and a bag of salt to where that farmer was ploughing, as quickly as you can. Is that clear?'

'As milk!' Arceisius smiled, before setting off at a sprint up the hillside.

Chapter Nine.

THE MADNESS OF ODYSSEUS.

King Agamemnon, son of Atreus, stood at the edge of the broad terrace before the palace walls, his tall, muscular form still swaying slightly from having spent several days at sea. He wore a short tunic of the purest white wool and a golden breastplate that gleamed savagely in the sun. A red cloak, fastened by a golden brooch at his left shoulder, flowed over his back and around his calves like a river of blood. His smooth brown hair was tied into a tail beneath the back of his head, and his reddish-brown beard was short and meticulously trimmed. At only thirty-five years of age, his face was still young and handsome, but it was also stern and authoritative, as befitted the most powerful man in Greece.

His emotionless blue eyes scanned the Ithacan guardsmen paraded before him, instinctively noting the good condition of their dated weaponry and the well-oiled shine of their leather armour. Though their clothing lacked any sense of uniformity, the practised way in which they moved suggested to Agamemnon that they worked well together as a unit of men. He also approved of their physical condition whether young or old (and there were many greybeards) the development of their muscles indicated long practice with their armaments. If all the men on Ithaca were to the standard of the hundred before him, they would be worth five times their number in levied soldiers.

Things had clearly changed since Odysseus had visited Sparta ten years before, when the soldiers he brought with him had been a spirited but bedraggled band. In those days they had been led by a captain called Halitherses, as Agamemnon recalled an old warrior who liked to keep his men fit and well trained. But Halitherses was nowhere to be seen, and it was unlikely that the man who stood before the line of Ithacan spearmen now was responsible for their battle-readiness. Nevertheless, he signalled to the two men beside him and crossed the terrace towards the line of waiting soldiers.

Eurylochus bowed low as the men approached, momentarily taking his small, piglike eyes off the powerful visitors. His round face, with its pug nose, fat lips and broad jowls was covered with sweat from his balding pate to the layers of his chin.

'Greetings, my lords,' he announced. 'Welcome to Ithaca, kingdom of Odysseus, son of Laertes. My name is Eurylochus, cousin of the king.'

'I am King Agamemnon of Mycenae. These men are my brother, King Menelaus of Sparta, and my friend and adviser, Palamedes, son of Nauplius.'

Eurylochus bowed again. Menelaus turned his stony, tight-lipped face and troubled eyes towards the Ithacan and nodded briefly. Palamedes, a small, black-haired man with a thin, pointed face and clever eyes, simply looked away.

'We are honoured by your presence, my lords,' Eurylochus continued unperturbed. 'A feast is being prepared, but perhaps you and your men would like to wash off the salt spray first?'

'We're tired and will be glad of a hot bath, but first I need to speak to your cousin. Where is the king?'

'On the other side of that low hill, my lord, but if you're happy to wait for him in the palace I'm sure he'll be back soon.'

'Our business won't wait,' Menelaus snapped. 'We want to see him now.'

'As you please, my lord. I'll take you to him.'

'That won't be necessary, Eurylochus,' Agamemnon said. He nodded towards the thirty armed warriors behind him, who were formed in lines on the road that climbed up from the harbour. 'It would serve us better if you saw to the needs of my men, whilst Menelaus, Palamedes and I go to find King Odysseus.'

Eurylochus, who had been instructed by Arceisius to delay Agamemnon for a short while only, felt his duty had been adequately carried out. He turned and pointed at the dirt road that led to Hermes's Mount. 'Follow that track up into the woods until you come to an area cleared for farming. Over the other side of the hill is a grove sacred to Athena; you'll find Odysseus and Penelope there, dedicating their newborn son to the G.o.ddess.'

'I'd heard they were without children,' Agamemnon said, his cold expression darkening momentarily. 'Nevertheless, I'm pleased to learn Odysseus has a boy. A king needs an heir to take up his legacy, just as Orestes my own lad will take up mine.'

He beckoned a man from the escort and gave him quiet instructions, then led his brother and Palamedes up the track Eurylochus had pointed out. Before long they entered the wood, where the trees were densely packed and tall. The thick canopy of branches strangled out the sunlight and left only a brown gloom that smelled strongly of pine and damp earth. Though they occasionally heard sounds from the undergrowth and were twice surprised by the clatter of wings overhead, no birds were singing, which gave the wood a lonely, unwelcoming feel.

After a short while the narrow, overgrown path straightened and they saw an archway of yellow daylight not far ahead. In it was framed the diminutive figure of a man, walking towards them. He was muttering angrily to himself, and when Agamemnon spoke he leapt with surprise.

'We seek the king. Have you seen him?'

The old peasant blinked several times as his eyes adjusted to the murky half-light, then he craned his head forward to scrutinize the speaker and his comrades. His sunburnt skin was like leather, but his forehead was as pale as if it had never seen the sun. His black hair was thin and hung in greasy clumps, and the stench of stale sweat that emanated from him was almost unbearable.

'In the name o'Demeter!' he exclaimed. 'Where'd yer all come from, then. Are yer G.o.ds?'

'If we were,' Agamemnon began, trying to contain his revulsion at the figure before him, 'we should have blasted you down to Hades by now for your lack of deference, or turned you into something inhuman though that already appears to have happened. As it is we're mere mortals, but it won't stop me from knocking your eyeb.a.l.l.s into the back of your head unless you answer my question: have you seen Odysseus?'

The old man took no notice of the threat, but at the mention of Odysseus stamped his foot and shook his fists with rage.

'B-loody man!' he shouted. 'I divn't care if he be the king or no, but I won't tolerate bein' robbed o' me cap. That's bin on my 'ead since I were a lad, protectin' me brain from the sun, and he jes walks up and whips it off me crown as if it were 'is own. I tell yer, the man's lost the command o' his senses. The sun's sent 'im mad and 'e's taken me cap to protect 'is own brain.'

'Zeus's beard, man,' Menelaus said, his face dark with anger, 'will you stop your ranting and tell us where he is?'

'In field up yonder. And it ain't me who's rantin' it's 'im, gibberin' on like an old maid who's lost 'er mind to the sun's rays, stealin' people's caps and . . .'

Menelaus strode past the fool and continued up the path, followed by his brother and Palamedes. Soon they were free of the wood and standing at the edge of a broad, sunlit field that was dotted here and there with solitary olive trees. A third of the soil had been freshly turned to hold some of the overnight rain, and the dark furrows sloped up in long, straight lines towards a ridge. At the point where they ended, a plough stood silhouetted against the skyline. Attached to it was the strangest team any of the men had ever seen: on one side was an ox, the normal beast of burden for such a task, but next to it stood an a.s.s, its tall ears skewed at odd angles as it brayed loudly under the weight of the yoke.

'Why would anyone team an a.s.s with an ox?' Palamedes asked.

'Perhaps we should ask him,' said Agamemnon, pointing to a short, heavily built man with a dirty felt cap crammed on his head. His back was turned to them as he walked beside the furrows, sowing seed from a bag over his shoulder.

But as Agamemnon was about to call out, he noticed a knot of people sitting or standing under one of the nearby olive trees. At the sight of the newcomers a woman left the group and came running towards them, waving her hand and shouting for their attention. As she came nearer, they could see she was holding a baby to her chest and that she was clearly in distress.

'My lords,' she panted, kneeling before them and facing the ground. 'Thank the G.o.ds that you've arrived. It's my husband . . .'

'Penelope,' Menelaus interrupted. He offered her his hand, which she took, and pulled her to her feet. 'Penelope, it's me, Menelaus. And here's my brother, Agamemnon. Surely you haven't forgotten us so easily?'

Penelope looked blankly at the Spartan king, then at Agamemnon, before allowing recognition to spread over her pleasant features.

'Is it really you, Lord Menelaus? And you, King Agamemnon? Then Father Zeus has answered my prayers for help.'

As she spoke, she concentrated her thoughts on the time when Polytherses had captured her and told her that Odysseus had been slain. At once, tears welled up in her eyes and began rolling down her suntanned cheeks, which she then hid in the palms of her hands.

'Don't cry, my dear,' Agamemnon said, his voice calm and soothing as he took Penelope into his arms and held her. 'Tell us what's upsetting you. Menelaus and I are the most powerful kings in all of Greece: if Odysseus is in trouble or danger, we can help him.'

'Dear Agamemnon,' Penelope said, looking up into his cold blue eyes. 'I'm so grateful you've come now, of all the times you could have come. But even your great power can't save a man from madness, can it?'

'Madness!' asked Palamedes in his high, slightly squeaky voice. 'Do you mean the G.o.ds have robbed him of his wits?'

'I mean just that, sir.'

The three men exchanged concerned looks.

'But how?' Menelaus asked.

'Who can guess the will of the G.o.ds?' she replied with a sob. 'We were dedicating Telemachus here to Athena one moment, and the next Odysseus was rolling his eyes and talking nonsense. Now he's ploughing this field with an ox and an a.s.s, and sowing salt in the furrows.'

'I've heard of Cadmus sowing serpent's teeth,' Agamemnon said. 'But he was acting on the orders of Athena, and each one became an armed warrior. What can Odysseus expect to reap from a bag of salt?'

'Nothing, sir. He's mad, and the mad do as they please,' Penelope answered.

'But he was one of the cleverest men in Greece,' Menelaus said, ruefully. 'Why, of all the oath-takers, did Odysseus have to lose his mind?'

Palamedes rubbed his chin speculatively and looked over at the Ithacan king, who had reached the ridge and was already returning, dipping his hand in the bag of salt at his side and casting it with skilful flicks of his wrist over the dark earth.

'Let's not be too hasty to dismiss him, my lords. We should speak to him and see whether this sickness is temporary or more long-lasting. Here he comes now.'

They turned to look at Odysseus, who was whistling cheerfully as he sowed. His belt was stuffed with pine branches and he only wore one sandal; the other was tied by its thongs around his neck, and in it was the partly decomposed body of a squirrel. Agamemnon waited until he was almost at the end of the furrow before drawing back his red cloak and stepping forward, his armour flashing in the sun.

'Odysseus!'

Odysseus stopped and looked at the king of Mycenae and his companions. An instant later his face was filled with recognition and joy, and he immediately ran towards them with open arms.

'My lords!' he cried.

'See,' Agamemnon said, turning and winking to his brother. 'A momentary madness, brushed aside at the sight of his old friends.'

Suddenly Odysseus was on his knees before them and touching his forehead to the ground. Agamemnon's look of satisfaction turned rapidly to consternation.

'Get up, Odysseus,' Menelaus said. 'There's no need to prostrate yourself like this, and you're embarra.s.sing us.'

Odysseus peered up at them from between his fingers. 'But no mortal even a king can dare to look on the faces of Zeus and Poseidon and expect to live.'

'Zeus and . . .' stuttered Agamemnon. 'Odysseus, stop this nonsense at once and get to your feet.'

'As you wish, Father Zeus.'

'Don't you recognize us?' Menelaus asked, genuine concern on his face. 'Menelaus and Agamemnon? And Palamedes, who you met at Sparta.'

Odysseus looked at Palamedes and screwed his face up.

'I don't remember meeting any satyrs in Sparta. I've heard it said they're the ugliest beasts a man could ever have the misfortune of setting eyes on, and now I know it's true.'

'Stop this blasphemy, Odysseus!' Agamemnon commanded, checking Palamedes's anger with a hand on his chest. 'We're mortal men, not G.o.ds.'

'Of course, my lord. But why did you leave Mount Olympus to set foot on this humble rock, where I was king before my son took the throne from me?'

Agamemnon looked questioningly over his shoulder at Penelope, who shrugged forlornly and held Telemachus closer to her chest. Menelaus, now standing beside her, tapped his finger to his forehead and raised his eyebrows.

'Have it your way, Odysseus. We come on a mission of the greatest importance: a crime has been committed against my brother indeed, against the whole of Greece that needs immediate retribution! A new enemy has raised his head, and if we don't unite against him now then our wives, our families and our homes will never be safe again.'