‘How dare you!’ Astynome protested.
‘And as for Paris, did he ever show a care for his country after setting eyes upon Helen? No! All he could think about was having her for himself, whatever the consequences for Troy. Priam may have abandoned him as a baby, but he’s more like his father than Hector ever was. Neither man deserves to rule this land.’
‘And you do?’ Eperitus said.
Apheidas turned to his son, taken aback by his sneering tone. Then he brushed away his surprise and forced a smile to his lips.
‘Yes, Son, I do. We do. Do you think this is all about ambition? That I would open the gates of Troy to its enemies for my own glorification?’ He laughed and turned back to the altar, placing his palms on the cold stone and shaking his head. ‘Were you never curious as to why your grandfather was forced to flee Ilium?’
‘He killed the man who raped and murdered his wife.’
‘He killed a member of the royal family! Before then, ours had been the wealthiest and most influential of all the noble clans of Troy, second only to the royal family itself. We were forced to leave all that behind when we fled to Greece, and it was only pity and guilt that persuaded Priam to let me come back some years ago – though he didn’t return the land and possessions he’d taken from our family. But now I’m going to reclaim all of that and more, and you, Eperitus, will become my heir. All I ask is that you take my proposal to Agamemnon – he knows you’re a man of honour and will trust you. Persuade him to put our family on the throne of Troy and we will become the easternmost point of his new empire, a safe harbour for Mycenaean merchants to flood Asia with Greek goods – offering him allegiance and paying him tribute for as long as our bloodlines continue. And when I die you will become king, Eperitus, bringing honour and glory back to your grandfather’s name, righting the wrong that was done to our family. Astynome will become your queen and your children will establish a new dynasty, restoring Troy to its former glory until, one day, she is strong enough to throw off the shackles of Mycenae and rule herself again.’
His eyes blazed in the torchlight as he imagined a new Troy under his own rule. No longer would he be a mere nobleman; instead, he would avenge the shame of his mother’s death and father’s exile and claim the throne itself, replacing Priam’s unworthy dynasty with his own bloodline. He stared at Eperitus, confident his son would understand. The knowledge his grandfather had been dishonoured by Trojan royalty – and that his own inheritance had been stolen by Priam himself – would clear away his doubts and bring a surge of righteous anger. It was an anger Apheidas had felt all his life, but with Eperitus at his side he would finally see justice and an end to the years of bitterness.
‘Dawn is approaching, Son,’ he said, calmly now. ‘Go. Speak to Agamemnon and let us bring an end to this war.’
‘Speak to him yourself,’ Eperitus answered, narrowing his eyes at his father. ‘You and the King of Men would get on well – two power-hungry murderers who’ll stop at nothing to have your way. But I want no part of you or your schemes. I’d hoped you’d changed, Father, but you haven’t. You’re the same shameful monster that killed King Pandion twenty years ago, and if you think that by putting you on the throne of Troy I’ll restore one scrap of glory or honour to my grandfather’s name, then you have never been more wrong. You are not my father. As the gods are my witness, I never had a father!’
He turned to Arceisius and Astynome.
‘Come on. We’re leaving.’
‘You don’t make a very good traitor,’ Arceisius said with a grin.
Astynome laid her hand on Eperitus’s arm and together they moved towards the entrance, only to find the way blocked by one of the guardsmen. His spear was aimed at Eperitus’s stomach.
‘Why are you always so damned stubborn?’ Apheidas demanded. ‘Isn’t this the same selfish pride you said was preventing Odysseus and the others returning to their families? Will you turn your back on them also and have them suffer more interminable, bitter years of war, just because of your ridiculous sense of honour?’
Eperitus’s lip curled in contempt.
‘Honour has always been a thing of ridicule to you, hasn’t it?’ he replied, refusing to turn and face his father. ‘But it isn’t to me. Without honour a man is nothing, no matter how much wealth or power he has. I was a damned fool if I thought I could put my own honour aside to end this war, and you’re twice the fool if you think you can turn me to your corrupt ends. I should have killed you in Lyrnessus, Father, but you can be sure I won’t miss my chance again.’
He snatched the neck of the guard’s spear and pulled the shaft towards himself, throwing his fist into the man’s face. The Trojan fell to the floor, his nose pumping blood. Tugging the weapon from his grip, Eperitus turned and hurled it across the temple. Apheidas ducked aside as the bronze point brushed past his ear and embedded itself in the effigy of Apollo.
‘Seize him!’ he shouted.
The other guards sprang into action at his command. Eperitus, kneeling by the fallen soldier, knocked him unconscious with a second punch and pulled the sword from his belt. He tossed it to Arceisius, who caught it deftly and turned just in time to parry a spear-thrust from the nearest Trojan. Eperitus grabbed the first guard’s torch and leapt to his feet, slashing it in an arc before the chests of the other two soldiers and forcing them back.
‘Astynome, get behind the altar – now!’
One of his assailants jabbed at him with his spear. Twisting aside, Eperitus kicked the shaft from the man’s hand and pushed the end of the torch into his face, where it exploded in a shower of flames. The guard screamed in agony and staggered backwards, clutching at his face as he fell to the flagstone. A second scream followed and Eperitus glanced across to see Arceisius plunge his sword into the chest of his opponent.
‘Look out!’ he warned as two more guards came running in through the entrance with swords drawn and torches held aloft.
‘Look out yourself,’ Arceisius replied as he ran to meet them.
Eperitus turned just in time to see the other guard rushing at him with his spear held in both hands. Sweeping his torch downward with the speed of his sharp instincts, he knocked the point of the weapon away from his groin and jumped back as the guard swung the butt of his spear up at his face.
‘Kill him!’ Apheidas ordered from a few paces behind the soldier.
With a determined grimace, yet wary of the flaming brand in Eperitus’s hand, the guard edged forward. Eperitus fell back, casting his eyes quickly to either side; Astynome had taken refuge behind the stone altar to his left, but on his right Arceisius’s opponents were forcing him back towards the centre of the temple. Inexplicably, Eperitus could also hear the clash of weapons coming from outside of the circle of laurel trees, though he had no time to think what it could mean. He whispered a silent prayer, then stepped backwards on to the shaft of a discarded spear. The gods had heard him.
Throwing his torch at his attacker – who instinctively turned away and shielded his face with his hand, crying out as the flames burnt the soft underside of his forearm – Eperitus dropped to one knee and groped for the abandoned weapon. Seizing the shaft with both hands, he drove it upward at the Trojan’s head. In the semi-darkness he had the weapon the wrong way round, but the butt had been fitted with a bronze spike for planting firmly in the ground to resist cavalry attacks. The spike found the flesh beneath the man’s chin and carried on through until it punctured his brain and brought him down on to the flagstones. Eperitus tugged the weapon free and looked across, just in time to see Arceisius retreat another two steps to where Apheidas was waiting for him, his long blade glowing orange in the guttering light of the torches.