King of Ithaca (19 page)

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Authors: Glyn Iliffe

Tags: #Fiction, #Historical, #General

BOOK: King of Ithaca
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The remainder turned and tried to push the weight of men behind them back into the great hall. Mentor picked up a spear and thrust it into the back of one man, then trod his body down into the dirt of the corridor floor as he hacked down another. His companions managed to gouge the life out of a further three before the mercenaries escaped back into the open space of the great hall.

Their victory had filled them with confidence and a fierce lust for more slaughter, but Mentor knew the Taphians would quickly return in more strength. Realizing that their best hope was to defend the upper levels, he ordered them back. Upon reaching the stairs they paused before a dead female slave who lay across the broad steps like a toppled statue, her arms hooked above her head and her eyes shut as if sleeping. Only the dark stain of blood still spreading through her clean white dress indicated there had been any violence. The guardsmen recoiled briefly at the sight of her, but Mentor waved them up the steps.

‘Protect the queen,’ he ordered, knowing that at least one of Eupeithes’s men had already found his way to the female quarters. ‘I’ll try to find Laertes. May the gods protect you!’

The men sprang up the steps while Mentor set off down the corridor, past the storeroom and the slaves’ quarters to the door that opened onto the courtyard. The dull clash of arms was audible through its thick panels.

Nervously, and hastily in case of pursuit, he opened the door and stepped out into the courtyard. The clouds had now dispersed to reveal sable patches of night sky and a curved splinter of moon. Spread across the courtyard, individually and sometimes bunched into small knots, were the dark shapes of numerous corpses, the debris of a battle that was now concentrated on the left-hand side of the broad enclosure.

There were around thirty men still standing, but the majority were Taphians, led by Polytherses. At their rear, running about on his spindly legs and shouting encouragement to his men, was Eupeithes. He was a fat, arrogant-looking man in his late middle age, with white hair and pale, mole-strewn skin that looked translucent in the weak moonlight. His clothing and armour were luxurious, reflecting the expensive taste for which he was well known, but remained unsoiled by battle. Although his home was filled with images of heroes and wars, his own bravery was nothing more than imagined and he had no nerve for the filth, the exertion, or the risk of battle.

As Mentor watched from the shadow of the palace walls, the two sides parted and he saw Laertes standing in the midst of five remaining Ithacan guardsmen. The old king raised his spear and invited Eupeithes to decide the fate of Ithaca by single combat. A number of the warlike Taphians murmured their approval and looked at their leader.

The merchant faced the challenge with a smile. ‘Laertes, my friend, don’t be angry. I haven’t forgotten the time you saved my life from the mob, or that you were once king of these islands, so I have no wish to see you harmed unnecessarily. And why should you and I fight each other for the throne? These Taphians have battled bravely to win liberty for their Ithacan allies – to save them from
your
folly, Laertes – and there can be no dispute who is ruler here now.’

Laertes stared at the merchant with disdain. ‘You’ll never be ruler, Eupeithes. Betrayal begets betrayal and your actions will only earn you treachery in return. Kneel before your rightful king now, and pray to the gods he’ll have mercy on you.’

Eupeithes stepped forward and waved his hand dismissively. ‘A king is but a representative, the bearer of a title and a position, but he is nevertheless a man who will ultimately die. A nation, however, is something which surpasses the individual. It outlives us all and must be honoured above any one man. I act for our nation and that’s why I must replace you, Laertes. You have failed your people with idle hands and a self-regarding mind.’

‘You see things with the eyes of a merchant, Eupeithes,’ Laertes replied. ‘You don’t see there are other things in this world beyond how much a man does or does not possess. You were born into a wealthy family who trained you to think about the acquisition of riches, to know what to buy and where to sell, and you have spent your life as a trader in goods. That makes you an excellent man to trust when it comes to money and making a profit.

‘I, on the other hand, was born into a ruling family. I was trained to think about the welfare of my people, to provide for them and protect them. From boyhood I was taught to fight and to lead troops; I was told how to take from the people in times of plenty, so that I could give to them in times of hardship; I was shown how to watch every part of my kingdom, from the harvest, to the work of the craftsmen, to the trading of the merchants and the scheming of the nobles, so that there was balance and harmony. And that’s how I’ve spent my life, be it for better or worse. But whatever truth there is in your accusations, I have kept this nation together. It’s only through
you
that Ithacans have spilled each other’s blood on the soil of their homeland. Only
you
, Eupeithes, have divided these islands and destroyed the one thing that has kept them together and at peace for so long. In your very first act you have invited our oldest enemies onto our shores, killed your compatriots and put the future of these islands into question. The biggest mistake
I
made was in allowing you to spread your lies amongst the people.’

As both groups listened to the king, his voice filled with authority despite his tiredness and wounds, Mentor heard the sound of others coming down the corridor behind him. Looking about himself, he snatched a long Taphian spear and a shield from one of the many bodies in the courtyard and retreated back into the shadows, pressing his body as close to the wall as possible. Just as he did so, Koronos walked out into the courtyard, followed by Polytherses and the remainder of the Taphians, who had broken in through the great hall.

Laertes saw the approaching reinforcements and knew that the battle was lost. Realizing their desperate situation and not wanting to waste more lives, he threw down his weapons in surrender and ordered his men to do the same.

Eupeithes had won a stunningly quick and complete victory. By clever deceit and ruthless determination he had overthrown the king and taken power. And as Mentor slipped away unnoticed through the palace gates, he knew that only the return of Odysseus could save Ithaca now.

 

Chapter Eleven

T
HE
R
OAD TO
M
ESSENE

Mentor raised his head and looked at Odysseus. ‘There’s something else,’ he said. Despite his hardships, he sat tall and as straight as a spear. ‘The fishermen who helped me escape told me a galley had already left for the mainland. A force of Taphians was aboard, led by Polybus. Eupeithes knows that until you’re dead there will always be hope and resistance amongst the Ithacans. He also knows from the crew of your ship where you landed, so he intends to hunt you down while you’re still within his reach.’

After breakfast, they gathered in the shade of the trees where Odysseus had called them to council. Other than Eperitus, every member of the expedition had family and friends back in Ithaca. However, it was so incredible that their homeland could now be under the rule of Eupeithes that for a while nobody knew what to say.

It was Damastor who broke the silence. He had a wife and infant son at home and did not want to leave them to the mercy of Taphian pirates. There was no choice, he argued, but to go to the nearest coastal town and take a ship back to Ithaca. They knew the countryside better than the Taphians and could observe their numbers and defences from the hills surrounding the town. If they sailed by night the invaders would not even be aware of their return, and then they could gather an army of the people and wrest the island back from Eupeithes.

There were murmurs of agreement, but little enthusiasm. Laertes’s defeat had lowered their spirits and put doubt into their minds. Eperitus could see from the lifeless expressions that they questioned their chances of defeating Eupeithes’s much stronger force. Even Halitherses looked sullen and dismayed. Only Odysseus seemed unbowed by the news. Instead, his eyes were fixed on the distant shoreline as he pondered what to do.

After a few moments he stood and looked at his men, their dirty, tired faces raised in expectation. If they hastened back to Ithaca now, he explained, they might catch Eupeithes unprepared and the islanders angry enough to fight. But it was more likely their small force would be massacred, gifting Ithaca to their enemies for ever. The alternative was to continue to Sparta, where they might gain powerful allies and come back with a force that could optimistically challenge Eupeithes. And yet that would also give the usurper time to establish himself and strengthen his position.

‘Whatever we may think,’ said Halitherses, ‘the decision has to be yours, my lord. We all have homes and families on Ithaca, but you are the heir to the throne. You know what’s best, and we’ll commit ourselves to your judgement.’

‘Then I’m going to pray on the matter,’ Odysseus announced. ‘If you’re wise you’ll do the same. I’ll decide when I return.’

He turned to go to the other side of the hilltop, and as he did so gave Eperitus a long look and nodded his head for him to follow. The young warrior waited a short while then went to find him.

Odysseus sat on his haunches, his elbows balanced on his knees and his hands wilting at the ends of his outstretched arms. He was looking out towards the sea. Though winter had begun the sky had few clouds and the sun was bright as it climbed towards its apex, enabling a keen-eyed observer to see for great distances. The prince did not look at Eperitus as he joined him.

‘You wanted me, my lord?’

‘No formalities here, Eperitus. Sit down.’

Rocks were scattered everywhere, none of them flat or smooth enough to sit on, so he squatted next to Odysseus and faced the sea. The landscape was typical of southern Greece – hilly, boulder-strewn, punctuated with scrubby plants and olive groves – but it felt an empty and lonely place.

‘What will you do?’ he asked.

‘That isn’t my decision,’ Odysseus replied, opening his hand to reveal the small clay owl that Athena had given him. ‘She told me to go to her temple at Messene.’

Eperitus looked at the object resting in the palm of his friend’s hand and recalled the goddess’s instructions, as well as her promise to help Odysseus at the time he needed her most.

‘That’s why I wanted you to follow me, Eperitus,’ Odysseus continued, looking at him with his intelligent green eyes. ‘You were there. You saw her and heard what she said. I can’t share that with Mentor or Halitherses, so I need you to help me decide.’

‘We won’t be able to defeat Eupeithes without using the owl to call on Athena’s help,’ Eperitus began. ‘But she won’t come unless you honour her command to go to Messene first.’

‘Even with the help of a goddess it’ll be a difficult task,’ Odysseus said. ‘We’re too few in number. But you’re right either way: we must at least rid her temple of the serpent, as she has commanded. We can decide between Ithaca and Sparta then. And yet . . . and yet I fear for my parents. My every thought burns with anxiety for them! Ithaca will still be there if we return tomorrow or in ten years, but I can’t delay if by doing so I risk the lives of my father and mother.’

‘From everything I’ve heard it seems that Eupeithes is a coward,’ Eperitus said. ‘Surely he wouldn’t dare murder Laertes?’

‘No, he wouldn’t. But he has Polybus at one ear and Polytherses at the other, and the Taphians may yet decide to do away with them all and take Ithaca for themselves. They wouldn’t spare its king and queen.’

‘I can’t make that decision for you, Odysseus,’ Eperitus replied. ‘But if you want the opinion of an outsider, then go to Messene first. That’s the sum of my wisdom on the matter. And now I should go back, before Mentor suspects me of being up to mischief

As he rejoined the camp, he saw Mentor sitting on a rock and staring at him. His arms and legs were tied with fresh bandages – replaced that morning – and the few hours sleep he had gained during the night had eased his look of exhaustion. Eperitus was about to look away and find a friendlier face, when Mentor rose to his feet and walked towards him. The man’s accusations of treachery were still fresh in Eperitus’s mind, and the ordeals Mentor had been through did not lessen his anger towards him.

‘What is it?’ he said, sharply.

Mentor stared at him for a moment, then offered his hand. ‘I owe you an apology, Eperitus. I judged you too harshly when we first met, and I haven’t made things easy for you since. But the events at the palace have changed me, and I just want to say I was wrong to speak as I did.’

Eperitus held Mentor’s gaze for a moment longer, then forced a smile to his lips and took his hand. ‘I’m glad we can be friends, Mentor.’

Odysseus returned shortly after and wasted no time in informing the men of his decision. They would head for Sparta, travelling via Messene to buy new supplies. Even those who were eager to return home and fight it out did not question his decision, and Eperitus sensed the prince’s authority grow then. Before, he felt that the men followed Odysseus because he was the son of Laertes; now it was because they were learning to trust him. The only voice of dissent belonged to Damastor, who still insisted they should return to Ithaca. But his protests were short-lived in the face of Odysseus’s silence and he resigned himself to the long journey ahead of them. And so they marched late into the evening, following the coastal road and hoping to put some distance between themselves and any pursuit.

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