King of Ithaca (40 page)

Icarius laughed at the suggestion. ‘No. He raped
my
daughter, and I’ll be the one to put him to the sword. The right of revenge is mine.’

‘He’s my friend and, what’s more, he’s an Ithacan warrior. If a man is to die, let it be by the hand of one of his own countrymen.’

Tyndareus sighed loudly. Taking a sword from one of the guards, he handed it to Odysseus. ‘Be quick,’ he said. ‘I’m already sick of this whole affair.’

Odysseus took the weapon, but made no move to carry out the king’s request.

‘Not before the eyes of all these onlookers,’ he announced. ‘Let me take him down to the orchard by the bridge and carry out the sentence there, privately and with respect for the service he has given me. I give you my word Penelope’s attacker will receive his just rewards.’

‘No – do it here,’ Icarius demanded. ‘Where there are witnesses to the act.’

There were murmurs of agreement from the crowd. They had already come to regard Odysseus as too clever for the absolute truth, and though they respected him few trusted him. But at that moment Peisandros stepped from the ranks of the Myrmidons and joined Odysseus.

‘I’ll see that it’s done. Permit Odysseus to take this man to the orchard he talks of, the one by the tributary that runs into the Eurotas. I will be your witness. This is an evil business and, by the gods, I want to see it over.’

‘I agree,’ Menelaus said, his face full of disgust at the proceedings and Icarius’s lust for revenge. ‘Let Odysseus kill his friend and let Peisandros act as witness. He’s of noble birth and we can trust what he says.’

The early spring sky had filled with grey clouds and a wind was blowing across the courtyard now. Agamemnon and Tyndareus exchanged hushed words then quickly nodded their approval. Odysseus and Peisandros bowed low before them, then, as the first dollops of rain began to sink pits into the dust, they led Eperitus across the courtyard and through the gates.

For a while they walked in silence through the town, Odysseus on one side of Eperitus and Peisandros on the other, looking in every respect the escort that they were. The rain shower had been brief and as the townsfolk emerged from the shelter of homes and doorways they stared at them because of the prisoner’s beaten and bloodied state. A few children dared follow in their wake to throw sticks and stones at his back – instinctively identifying him as some form of criminal – but were chased angrily away by Peisandros.

Before long they reached the city walls and could see the bridge and the orchard only a short walk further on through the arched gateway.

‘Wait here and keep watch, Peisandros,’ Odysseus commanded, handing him the sword. ‘I’ll be back shortly.’

With that he sprinted back up the hill at a speed that belied his heavy bulk. They watched him out of sight, wondering what had brought about his sudden desertion, and then Peisandros turned to the young soldier.

‘What’s all this about, Eperitus? I was with you last night before they sent everybody back to their quarters, so I know you couldn’t have been in Penelope’s room. You’re covering for someone, aren’t you?’

Eperitus remained silent.

‘Was it Odysseus? You can trust me not to say anything. If you’re standing in for the prince then I honour you for your sacrifice, but I’ll not see you murdered for something you didn’t do.’

At that point Odysseus reappeared, carrying a struggling goat under his arm.

‘Come on,’ he told them, and marched through the gate at a pace which they struggled to keep up with.

‘He’s keen to see you dead, my friend,’ Peisandros muttered as they dropped behind. ‘Perhaps he doesn’t want you changing your mind. But don’t forget who’s carrying the sword now.’

Although his name was now a thing to be despised, Eperitus felt a glimmer of hope that the Myrmidon spearman did not want him dead. How he planned to save his life he did not know, though if it meant Odysseus would be found out he would freely have chosen death again. Either way, if he lived he knew that his time in Sparta was over and the life of an outcast lay once more before him.

They reached the orchard and sought the shade of the apple trees. Here Odysseus passed the restless goat to Peisandros and turned to Eperitus.

‘Come to the river bank,’ he ordered, and led him down to the water. Here he made him kneel and began scooping up handfuls of the cold water, pouring them over his friend’s head to loosen the caked blood. Then he removed his own cloak and, dipping a corner in the gurgling waters, began to gently dab the blood from Eperitus’s skin. If he winced, Odysseus tried again with more care, and did not stop until every bit was gone.

‘You’re a fool,’ he said, shaking his head at the numerous cuts and swollen bruises that decorated Eperitus’s body. ‘But a noble one, and I thank you for your loyalty. I was an idiot to be in Penelope’s room, though it was at her invitation and not my own imposition; but to have openly admitted it would have meant not only my death, it would also have heaped shame on the woman I love and brought an end to our mission! And nothing must stop me from restoring Ithaca to my father’s rule, even if it means allowing the death of my closest friends. Maybe you understand?’

Eperitus looked at the eddies flowing past on the surface of the tributary and wanted to ask Odysseus if that also meant choosing Helen over Penelope. The prince was prepared to let his friend die for his homeland, but would not give up the woman he loved in exchange for all the power he needed to put Laertes back on the throne. Or maybe he was preserving himself for Penelope, after all, and the return to Ithaca had been relegated to a secondary cause.

‘I have no home, my lord,’ Eperitus answered, ‘so I don’t blame you for wanting to regain yours. Even if you are sometimes rash in your actions.’

Odysseus laughed. ‘I don’t know what came over me. I know I love her and can barely pass a moment without thinking of her, but last night it was as if all my feelings for her were tied up in a knot and there was only one way to release them.’

Peisandros joined them.

‘We’re ready,’ Odysseus told him. ‘Now, give me back the sword.’

‘I can’t do that, my lord.’

‘Don’t be a fool, man, and do as I say.’

Peisandros put the goat down, which immediately began gnawing at the tough grass around the trees, and pulled the sword from his belt.

‘You know as well as I that Eperitus didn’t commit this crime. I don’t mean to disrespect your rank, Odysseus, but I won’t allow you to kill an innocent man.’

‘And I have no intention of doing any such thing,’ Odysseus replied. He pointed at the goat. ‘What do you think I brought that thing for? A sacrifice to the gods for letting me murder my friend? Of course not, you buffoon – I’m going to kill the goat and dip Eperitus’s cloak in its blood. Hopefully that and your testimony will convince them.’

‘What?’ Peisandros exclaimed. ‘You gave them your word without having any intention of killing Eperitus?’

‘Just as you told them you’d be a witness to my death,’ Eperitus added, ‘with every intention of seeing me escape.’

The realization brought a broad smile to the Myrmidon’s lips as he handed the sword to Odysseus. ‘Yes, I suppose so. Well, let’s get on with it, and may the gods forgive us.’

At that moment they heard the thudding of hoofs and turned to see Icarius arrive, mounted on a white stallion. He stopped and looked about himself until he caught sight of the warriors amongst the apple trees. With a sharp dig of his heels he drove the horse into the orchard, ducking his head to clear the branches. Odysseus gave the goat a quick kick and sent it running off towards the city walls, whilst shooting Peisandros a look of frustration and despair.

‘I’m not too late, then,’ Icarius sneered, looking down at them and noting with satisfaction that Eperitus was kneeling and Odysseus stood over him, sword in hand. ‘I was half expecting you to have let him go, Odysseus.’

‘You should have more trust in a man when he gives his word,’ the Ithacan retorted.

‘Trust you? Why do you think I’m here? Now, let’s get on with it.’

Eperitus spat blood into the dirt where his horse stood, but Odysseus laid a calming hand on his shoulder.

‘Peace now, my friend; at least try to die with honour,’ he said as he stepped in front of Eperitus, turning his back towards Icarius. Then his voice sank to a whisper. ‘You always said you were a good horseman – now’s your chance to show me. Do you understand?’

Eperitus nodded and lowered his head. He heard the stallion shifting as Icarius tried to get a better view, and his mind raced to plan his next move. He raised one knee, ready to spring. Then Odysseus drew himself up to his full height and lifted the sword over his head.

An instant later, Eperitus thrust himself upwards and barged him aside with his shoulder. The prince tumbled deliberately into Peisandros and the pair of them fell into a heap. Icarius’s eyes widened as Eperitus sprinted towards him, but his reactions were too slow and as he tried to turn the horse around Eperitus caught his heel and pushed upwards with all his strength. The king fell to the damp ground with his arms and legs flailing, and Eperitus leapt skilfully onto the animal’s back. It continued to turn, snorting loudly in confusion, but its new rider quickly took the reins and calmed it with a hand on its neck.

For a moment he was tempted to drive the horse over the prostrate form before him, but the temptation quickly faded as he saw the terror in Icarius’s eyes. Instead, he turned the stallion towards the bridge and the road that led to the Taygetus Mountains.

‘Farewell, Odysseus,’ he said. ‘I’ll look for you again after Helen is married. Until then, make sure you choose the
right
daughter of Lacedaemon to keep the thieves from your house.’

With that he spurred the horse out of the orchard and onto the road, then drove it at a gallop towards the mountains. He knew that his place was at Odysseus’s side, and so he would hide out in the foothills until the time came for the Ithacans to return home.

The news of Eperitus’s escape was greeted with anger amongst the suitors and their retinues, though the Ithacans and a few others were relieved that the cruel sentence had not been carried out. Several mounted soldiers had been sent to hunt for the fugitive, but none had been able to locate him and – against Icarius’s wishes – the search was soon abandoned. The feast that evening was subdued, the atmosphere soured by the events of the day. Eventually, Tyndareus could stand no more of the sombre mood in the great hall, and asked Odysseus to walk with him in the gardens.

‘This may not be the ideal time, Odysseus,’ he said, placing a broad arm about his shoulder and leading him to the very bench the prince had shared with Penelope weeks before, ‘but I need to know your answer to the little matter that remains unresolved between us. My daughter awaits your reply.’

‘Tyndareus, for these past months you’ve been like a father to me,’ Odysseus responded. ‘Indeed, to all of us suitors. You’ve given us the best of your food and drink, provided us with beds and kept us safe under your roof. No host could be kinder, and nothing would please me more than to become your son-in-law.’

His words pleased the king, who had been rather bemused by his daughter’s interest in the Ithacan. He wanted to make her happy, though, and was prepared to break his agreement with Agamemnon for her sake. The king of Mycenae would be disappointed and perhaps angry that Menelaus would no longer be chosen for Helen, especially as the council of war had been such a disaster; but Tyndareus was tired of his power stratagems and wanted an end to the constant – and expensive – feasting.

‘However,’ Odysseus added, ‘the events of last night and today have changed matters. I can no longer marry Helen.’

‘But why?’ Tyndareus said, clearly shocked and offended.

‘It’s my duty to marry Penelope.’

‘You’d turn down the greatest prize in all Greece for . . . for my niece?’

Odysseus shrugged, as if the comparison between the women was of no consequence. ‘She was dishonoured by an Ithacan and I feel responsible for that. That’s why, in fulfilment of your debt to me, I want you to persuade Icarius to let me marry Penelope.’