‘It’s worse than that,’ Eperitus said. His face was ablaze with shame as he recounted the awful events on the night his father had killed King Pandion and seized the throne for himself. It was a story he had not wanted to share: ever since his banishment from Alybas he had wanted his ignominious past to remain unknown. There was something about Odysseus, however, that invited confidence, and Eperitus felt the better for sharing his story.
‘So you see, I won’t let Eupeithes take your rightful place as king,’ he said ardently. ‘Not whilst there’s breath in my body. I hate a usurper before everything else, and my father put a stain of dishonour on our family that only I can remove. If I help you to defeat Eupeithes, then I feel I’ll have done something to restore pride to my family’s name.’
They sat silently for a while, watching the gulls riding on the wind. Then the helmsman called out for a change in the sail. He had spotted a bay that would suffice for the evening, and with the westering sun threatening to leave them with only a failing light he chose to make harbour now. There was a flurry of activity as everyone moved to help, and the frenetic action left Eperitus no time to mull over his revelations to Odysseus.
Eperitus was woken before dawn by Odysseus holding his foot up by the big toe.
‘I’m sending the galley back to Ithaca,’ Odysseus told him. ‘We’re going overland, so I need you to help unload the galley. Halitherses has gone to buy mules from the village above the bay.’
The news brought dismay to the other members of the expedition, who had expected an easy sea voyage around the Peloponnese. Odysseus explained that he and Halitherses had decided that the remaining crew – all young, able-bodied men – should return home and bolster the militia, but it did not make the news any easier. Now the men would be required to walk for several days across unknown terrain to the palace of Tyndareus. In one sense Eperitus was disappointed not to have more time on the galley, but in another he was also pleased at the likely prospect of adventure on the way.
‘Besides which,’ Odysseus added as his men sat before him on the beach, ‘I’ve a mind to visit Athena’s temple in Messene. We need her support in our quest, and we should pay her our respects. Don’t you agree, Eperitus?’
Eperitus remembered their encounter with the goddess at Pythia, and the duty she had charged Odysseus with. Now he realized it had always been the prince’s plan to make landfall on the first day and go overland from there. Even the urgency of their mission could not come before the command of a goddess.
The crew’s complaining was cut short by the braying of mules. As Halitherses led them along the track that fed in from the fields, it did not take long for Odysseus and his companions to realize that they were sorry beasts indeed. All three had great running sores on their backs and flanks and didn’t look strong enough to walk, let alone to carry the bride gifts and supplies, but Halitherses explained they were the best he could find.
After loading the mules and watching their ship head back to Ithaca, the band of warriors began their own journey across the Peloponnese. They were in the southernmost part of a country called Elis, and the going was slow due to the rocky terrain and the poor condition of the animals. They followed the line of the coast south, heading in the general direction of Messene, and cut across the spur of a headland that jutted out into the great expanse of sea. By late afternoon, however, they found themselves stuck on one side of a broad, fast-flowing river that did not appear to be fordable. They trudged further upstream, but found no sign of a possible crossing point.
Frustrated, Odysseus ordered his men to make camp whilst he and Halitherses went looking for a ford or bridge. Before long they returned with news of a ferry not far downstream. There was no sign of a ferryman and the craft was in poor repair, but it could float and would be able to take them a few at a time across the broad river. However, with twilight already upon them it was decided to wait until daylight before making the crossing.
Eperitus found a patch of comfortable ground by the bole of an old tree. Shortly afterwards he was joined by Damastor and Halitherses. For a while they discussed the river and the crossing of it, then turned to their impressions of the country itself. It seemed to be sparsely populated, despite being a pleasant land with plenty of streams and meadows for keeping livestock, as well as good soil for growing crops. It would be a place worth settling, were it not for the strange tales they had all heard about Elis and the larger region called Arcadia, of which it was but the northwestern part. Even in faraway Alybas there were stories about the wolfmen of Arcadia, prowling the hills and pastureland at night in search of victims. Under the light of the sun or the moon they could not be told apart from another wolf, except that they hunted alone and were not afraid of anything. But in the twilight of early evening or the dusky period before dawn they regained human form, at which times they would seek out human company to ease the suffering of their loneliness. Yet the host of such a beast would become its victim once the sun or moon was in the sky again.
It was said they were descendants of an ancient king who had practised human sacrifice. When he tried to offer one of his own sons to Zeus, in his anger and disgust the father of the gods had turned the king into a wolf. The curse had been passed to the sons of the king as well, and the only way they could ever return to their original form was to abstain from human flesh altogether. That being impossible for a wolf, they were doomed to wander the earth in a state lost between man and beast.
After they had finished sharing their tales, the three men agreed that the mules should be kept closer to their camp for the night, rather than leaving them tied to a tree far from the safety of the fire. They also discussed the wisdom of setting a guard in this strange, underpopulated country, and to Eperitus’s relief Halitherses split the watch between two of his men.
Eventually, they pulled their blankets over themselves and lay down to sleep. There were no clouds or moon in the sky above, but the stars were like the grains of sand on a beach and their pale light made everything about the men clear. The cold air carried every sound clearly: the rush of the river over the rocks that were scattered along its banks, the snorting and stamping of their mules, even the cry of owls hunting in the darkness. Eperitus fell asleep listening to the noises of the night and thinking about the wolfmen of Arcadia. He dreamed he was in the great hall in Alybas, where a giant wolf was crouched over the dead body of King Pandion. The king’s blood dripped from its jaws, and as it looked at Eperitus it seemed to grin.
They stood in a circle about the raft. Eperitus could not imagine how it was supposed to carry them across the foaming waters that separated them from the next stage of their journey. The wood was rotten, broken in places and bound together by leather ropes that were cracked and splitting. Although the rectangular deck would fit six men and a mule, he doubted whether it would take their combined weight. Another problem was the strong current. The raft must usually have been pulled from one side of the river to the other along a rope, and though the stumps were still there the rope itself had gone. Because of this it would take two or three men using poles to get the raft across safely.
Despite these problems, Odysseus wasted no time in sending Antiphus out to trap a wild animal for sacrifice, whilst ordering others of the party to repair the ropes that held the raft together. The islanders were skilled seamen and, using a combination of axes and some rusty tools from the deserted ferryman’s shack, were soon busy replacing the worst of the wood. Before joining them in their work, Odysseus sent Eperitus on a chore of his own, to find and cut lengths of wood to act as staves in punting the raft across the river.