‘Your decision makes me sad,’ he sighed, standing again. In his hand was his father’s sword, the guest-gift for Tyndareus. He pulled it from its scabbard and the ornately carved blade glinted in the silvery light, each tiny detail pin-pricked by the moon as Odysseus turned it this way and that. Eperitus had never seen a weapon so intricate in its design, so rich in the quality of its workmanship, or so dreadful as it sat poised in Odysseus’s hand. For a moment he feared his friend would strike Iphitus down in cold blood and take the bow from him. Iphitus, too, looked uncertain and took a step back, gripping his bow tighter. But as he did so the prince slid the sword back into its scabbard and offered the hilt towards him.
‘If you won’t accompany us to Sparta, then you must visit me when I’ve restored Ithaca to my father’s line. There I will receive you with fair words, have my slaves bathe and clothe you, and we’ll eat together as old friends. That’s my promise to you, Iphitus, and before Zeus I offer you lifelong friendship, an honourable alliance that will hold for me and my descendants to you and yours for seven generations. And until we meet again in Ithaca I offer you gifts to seal my oath of friendship. I give you this sword of my father’s, which was to be our guest-gift to Tyndareus.’
Iphitus took the weapon and looked closely at the gold filigree on the leather scabbard. He drew the sword and studied the ornamentation on the blade, felt with his thumb the carving on the ivory handle, then held it above his head to watch the moonlight trickle off its glistening edge. Even though he was the son of a king, he had never seen such beauty in a man-made object.
As he admired its workmanship, Odysseus turned to Eperitus and told him to fetch one of his spears. ‘My finest spear, Eperitus. Be quick.’
Eperitus ran to where the others still sat, drinking from a fresh krater of wine. They hailed his arrival and asked where Odysseus was, but he made no reply other than to say the prince needed his spear. Halitherses handed him the great ash shaft and followed him back out into the courtyard, where Odysseus and Iphitus still faced each other.
‘This, too, I give to you,’ Odysseus said as Eperitus arrived, taking the spear from his hand. ‘The spear which Ares gave to my great-grandfather, and which has been passed from father to son since then. Take it, Iphitus, in sign of our friendship.’
Eperitus looked at Halitherses after hearing Odysseus’s extraordinary claims about the ordinary-looking weapon, but the old warrior screwed his lips to one side and gave a slight shake of his head.
‘Your generosity astounds me, Odysseus,’ Iphitus said, taking the spear and feeling its balance in his right hand. ‘Truly you are a great friend and a noble ally, a man of virtue and nobility. And you do me great honour with your words and these gifts.’ He looked again at the things Odysseus had pressed upon him in the ages-old custom of xenia. As a man of royal birth who had already proved himself to be honourable and true, Eperitus knew Iphitus would accept and return Odysseus’s oath. He watched him take the prince’s hand and look him sternly in the eye.
‘Odysseus, I give you an oath of my allegiance, before the all-seeing eyes of Zeus. When our separate missions are completed I’ll visit you in Ithaca to confirm the words we’ve spoken here. And then you shall visit my father’s palace in Oechalia and be our most honoured guest. This is my promise, true for seven generations.’
Then he stopped and withdrew his hand. Iphitus was required to give a gift in return, a token to seal his side of the alliance. And yet he had nothing to give beyond his travel-worn cloak and the plain dagger tucked into his belt. His only other possession was the bow, the one weapon with which he could defeat Heracles.
He looked at Eperitus, who could not return the Oechalian’s gaze. He felt ashamed for his simple part in Odysseus’s trick, even though he had not realized it until the last moment. Then Iphitus looked at the sword again and tucked it into his belt, smiling with what seemed a mixture of pleasure at the richness of the gift, and resignation at the knowledge that he must give the bow to Odysseus. Everything, after all, was the will of the gods, and they clearly favoured the Ithacan prince.
‘This is my gift to you. It’s a great weapon, Odysseus, made by Apollo himself. It’ll respond to you like a lyre in the hand of a skilled bard. You’ll never miss your target with any arrow fired from this bow, and only you or the one you give it to will be able to string it. I give it to you freely and happily in token of our friendship.’
Odysseus took the bow from Iphitus’s hand. It was clean and smooth and sat in his palm as if it had been purposely crafted for him alone. Then they all looked at Iphitus and knew he would never now feast with them in the great hall in Ithaca, for when he found Heracles he was certain to die.
book
THREE
Chapter Fifteen
SPARTA
They stood in the foothills of the Taygetus Mountains and looked across the wide valley to the city of Sparta. It lay wedged between the river Eurotas and a lesser tributary, strung like a gold medallion on a silver necklace. It was a wealthy place, home to a numerous, warlike and proud people who had made themselves rich by conquest and trade. They were further blessed with rolling, fertile plains for the growing of crops and the breeding of horses, for which the Spartans were famous throughout Greece. The Eurotas flowed freely down to the coast, enabling their merchants to reach the sea with ease. And by the same route goods came in to Sparta from the rest of the world, providing Cyprian copper for her armourers, Nubian gold and Attican silver for her craftsmen, and a wealth of ivories, textiles, pottery and other luxuries.
The city was larger than anything Eperitus had ever seen before or had dared to imagine. There were the usual hovels of the poor on the outskirts, but these eventually gave way to the magnificent homes of the richer classes, whose lime-plastered walls staggered upwards like giant steps towards the city’s acropolis, the hill upon which sat the royal palace.
The morning had been a dull one – cold and threatened by rain – but as he caught his first glimpse of Sparta, set against a backdrop of steep mountains, the clouds parted and broad fingers of sunlight reached down to lift the city from the greyness. It glowed golden-white under the scintillating rays as wall followed wall, gate led to gate, and roof overlapped roof, creating an awesome edifice that dominated the whole valley.
The group of dusty warriors looked on in silence. In comparison, Ithaca was nothing more than a poor, unsophisticated island with a few ramshackle towns and villages. There were no glorious buildings or awe-inspiring palaces to impress visitors; no battlements or soaring watchtowers to deter invaders; no paved streets filled with wealthy merchants or bronze-clad soldiers. All that their homeland could offer were dusty cart tracks that led to simple dwellings surrounded by pigs, chickens and dogs.
Eperitus glanced across at Odysseus. After Messene, the men’s spirits had lifted; they knew that once they had passed the Taygetus Mountains and reached Sparta they would find food, drink and plenty of rest. In contrast, Odysseus had grown quiet and withdrawn. On the night before they entered the mountain passes that would take them to Sparta, he had invited Eperitus to join him as he went into the hills to hunt food. Whilst the prince had an arrow fitted to the great bow he was happy again, shooting rabbits at great distances and exulting at the magical accuracy of his new weapon. Often he would comment upon what a match there would have been between Apollo’s bow and the arrows of Heracles. But as they headed back to camp his despondency returned and the prince began to talk about Ithaca and his concerns for his countrymen under the yoke of Eupeithes and his Taphian army. He longed to return and fight, especially now he knew Helen’s husband had already been chosen, but Athena had told him to go on. Yet what would he find there? And what if he failed in his task and returned to Ithaca empty-handed, to lead the last of the palace guard to certain death against Eupeithes’s army?