Arceisius lashed the reins with a shout and sent the chariot rushing down the grassy slope towards the enemy. Eperitus shifted the balance of his spear in his cupped hand and eyed the wall of black spearmen that was awaiting him. For a moment, as the wind tugged at his beard and he watched the flowing manes of his two horses ahead of him, he felt as if he and Arceisius were alone and detached from the world around them. The thunder of hooves filled his ears and the whole chariot shook beneath his feet. He looked out at the long grass that covered the ground and thought of the sea, as if he was leaning over the prow of a speeding galley with the surface of the ocean flashing past on either side. And then he glanced to his left and saw Odysseus shouting at the top of his voice – though Eperitus could not hear his words in the cacophony of battle – and pulling back his spear over his shoulder. Eperitus did the same, gripping the chariot rail with one hand and taking aim along the shaft at the mass of scowling Aethiopes ahead of him. Yelling as loud as his lungs and the competing wind would allow him, he launched his spear.
Whether it found its mark he never knew. A few heartbeats later he had swept his long sword from its scabbard and was staring in heady exhilaration at the gleaming spear points ahead of him. Arceisius let out a whoop of joy as he slapped the reins one final time across the backs of the horses and drove them on into the enemy. Suddenly it was as if their spears had been swept aside by the hand of some benevolent god, for both horses and men were unscathed as they broke through the terrified Aethiopes, Eperitus’s sword hacking at their uplifted faces and dispatching many to the Underworld. For a long, glorious moment in time he felt almost immortal, as if no weapon could harm him, as if his chariot were surrounded by a pocket of invulnerability that could not be pierced. Though there were enemy spearmen on all sides, yelling and stabbing at him, his shield thwarted every attack while the point of his sword sent one assailant after another to oblivion.
Then they were through the hastily assembled line of defenders and driving across open grassland once more. The main battle was now ahead of them and they could see the backs of their enemies as they were busy attacking the besieged remnants of the Greeks. To one side, cut off and surrounded by Aethiopes, Ajax was still struggling to fend off the attacks of the tall Aethiope, who Eperitus realized could only be the famed Memnon. His handsome face grinned at his fading opponent with the assured confidence of a hunter closing in upon a wounded lion.
Arceisius saw the unequal fight and, without waiting for orders, steered the chariot towards it. Sensing movement to his left, Eperitus turned to see three Trojan horsemen dashing towards him, their spears couched beneath their arms as they leaned into the attack. He swung his shield around to face them, but as the nearest rider approached he gave a sudden lurch and tumbled forward from his mount, a long ash spear protruding from his back. His comrades turned in panic, just as Achilles came racing up in his chariot and sliced the top off the nearest man’s head with his sword. The remaining horseman veered aside, straight into the path of a third Greek chariot. Odysseus grinned triumphantly and hurled his spear, catching the Trojan in the throat and spilling him from the back of his horse. Eperitus looked beyond the speeding chariots of Odysseus and Achilles and saw that the mass of newly arrived Greek spearmen had already crushed the thin line of Aethiope infantry and were yelling with bloodlust as they charged to the aid of their encircled countrymen.
‘Memnon’s mine!’ Achilles shouted as his chariot swept past Eperitus and raced to save Ajax.
A scattering of spears split the air above Eperitus and Arceis-ius’s heads, warning them that the other Aethiopes were no longer ignorant of their approach. As Odysseus drew alongside – Eurybates gripping the reins and driving the horses as fast as they would go – Eperitus looked ahead to see a score of black warriors running towards them and casting their spears. Two found their marks in the breast of one of Eperitus’s horses, bringing it down in an instant. The last thing he saw as the chariot skewed to the left and threw him from the car was Achilles driving into a line of Aethiope warriors, who had hurried forward to defend their king from the new opponent. Then he hit the ground with a thump and everything went dark.
He came to lying on his back and staring up into the noon sun. The wreckage of the chariot was a few paces away; the fact that one of the wheels was still spinning, and the surviving horse was struggling to get to its feet, told him that he had only been unconscious for a few moments. Then he saw the bloodied and inert form of Arceisius lying beneath the broken cab. He tried to raise himself, but was forced back down by a surge of pain. Grunting through gritted teeth, he tried again and managed this time to turn on to his side. Then a tall shape blocked out the sun and he looked up to see a black warrior standing over him, his long spear in his hands. Eperitus rolled aside just as the bronze spear point bit into the hard soil where a moment before his stomach had been. Suddenly a wave of energy burst through his body, eliminating the pain of his wounds and giving him fresh strength. Grabbing the neck of the spear for leverage, he swung his right leg into the back of his attacker’s left knee and knocked him on to his back. As he fell, Eperitus drew back his leg and kicked with all his force, connecting with the man’s head and snapping it sideways.
Three more Aethiopes came running up, their spear points lowered towards him. Eperitus spotted his shield, but it was beyond his reach and he knew he would never get to it in time. Then he saw two figures come charging in from the corner of his vision. Eurybates despatched one of the Aethiopes with a slashing cut of his sword that sheared through flesh and bone, while Odysseus sank the point of his spear into the throat of another, before pulling it out again and ramming the sharpened base of the shaft into the remaining man’s groin. As the man staggered backwards, clutching at his wounded neck and coughing blood, Odysseus finished him off with a thrust of his spear.
‘No time to lie around,’ he said, turning to Eperitus and pulling him to his feet. ‘Achilles and Ajax need our help.’
Eperitus retrieved his shield and a discarded spear then – seeing that Eurybates was helping Arceisius to his feet and that the young Ithacan was not badly hurt – followed Odysseus towards where they had last seen Achilles driving into the Aethiope shield-wall. All that remained there now was Achilles’s chariot with Peisandros at the reins, surrounded by a circle of black bodies. Peisandros said nothing, but pointed to the east where a little further on they could see Achilles standing in front of an exhausted Ajax, who knelt with his head bowed and blood and sweat shining on his powerful limbs. Achilles’s magnificent armour gleamed in the bright midday sun and somehow he had retrieved his gigantic ash spear. Facing him was Memnon, backed by a large force of Aethiopes.