‘I told you to let the girl go,’ he warned. ‘I won’t tell you again.’
Eurylochus’s face twitched with hatred. There was a moment’s indecision, then he shoved the girl into the arms of one of his cronies and pulled out his sword.
‘There’re five of us, Eperitus, and no witnesses. I tell you now, that girl’s a rare beauty in this godforsaken country and you’re not going to take her from me.’
Eperitus looked at the other four Ithacans who, except for the man whose arms were struggling to contain the priestess, had also drawn their swords and were fanning out in a crescent around him. He knew them all and none of them was any good as a warrior or as a man, but he left his sword untouched in its scabbard and instead fixed his eyes on each of them in turn. Finally his gaze rested on a skinny, rotten-toothed soldier whose red-rimmed eyes were quick to blink and look away.
‘I know you men,’ Eperitus told them in a slow, steady voice. ‘I know you for the weak-minded, back-stabbing scum that you are. Not one of you is worthy to call himself an Ithacan, and the only reason any of you are still alive is because you skulk at the back of every battle, furthest away from the fighting. How do I know that? Because I’m always in the thick of it, and I’ve never seen any of your faces at my side. So if you think you can take me – even five of you together – then come on. But if you do, then it’s to the death, and any man who pleads for mercy will be taken back to camp and executed. But if you put your swords back in their scabbards and walk away, I’ll forget I ever saw you here. Make your choice.’
There was a pause during which the nearby sounds of shouting, laughter and the crackle of flames were carried to them on the breeze. Then the skinny man with the red-rimmed eyes slid his sword back into its scabbard and turned away.
‘The girl’s all yours, Eurylochus,’ he grunted as he shouldered past him.
‘Yeah, enjoy her,’ said the man holding the priestess, pushing her towards Eurylochus and turning to follow the first man.
Eurylochus grabbed the girl by the elbow and pulled her to his side.
‘Where are you going?’ he asked, as the other two sheathed their swords and backed away. ‘What are you afraid of? He’s one man against five. Didn’t you seeing him holding back from the battle?’
‘There’s a difference between cowardice and refusing to march into a trap, Eurylochus,’ Eperitus said. All four of Eurylochus’s cronies had departed now, leaving him alone with the girl – no longer struggling – at his side. ‘And I’m sure you know a real coward when you see one. So what’s your choice? Shall I draw my sword?’
Eurylochus glowered at Eperitus, then slammed his sword into its scabbard and marched off in the wake of the others. The priestess watched him go, then turned to Eperitus.
‘And what do you intend to do with me?’ she asked in heavily accented Greek. ‘Rape me and cast me aside, as your countrymen would have done? Or take me as your captive, to be raped whenever you wish?’
‘Neither,’ Eperitus replied, meeting her hostile but enthralling gaze. ‘I’m not interested in captives or playthings. You’re free to go as you wish.’
Afraid to keep his eyes on her lest he should have a change of heart, he turned and walked back to the temple portico. As he picked up his shield and hoisted it on to his shoulder, he heard her naked feet padding along in his wake.
‘Go?’ she said. ‘Go where? To be found by more Greek soldiers and raped? No, my lord, I’d rather take my chances with you. At least you seem to be a man of honour, which is rare among the enemies of Troy.’
He turned to find her standing directly behind him.
‘A man of honour?’ he said, raising an eyebrow. ‘Can such a thing still exist in this war, on either side? But whether I am what you think or not, I can’t take you with me. I have to find my king.’
‘You must take me with you,’ she insisted, reaching out and seizing his hand. ‘My lord Eperitus – that’s what the fat one called you, isn’t it? – forgive me if I failed to thank you for saving me, but you can’t just turn your back on me now and leave me to the next group of common soldiers who come along. Take me as your slave. I promise to serve you well, even if you are a Greek.’
As if to emphasize the point, she knelt before him and threw her arms around his legs, resting her head against his thighs. Eperitus reached down and, taking her by the elbow, raised her to her feet. Though the features of her face were still edged with anger, the hostility had left them and as he looked into her eyes he realized she was as beautiful as any woman he had seen in many years. At that moment, shouts erupted from a side street and two men came rushing into the open space before the temple. One was old with snow-white hair and short, spindly legs that seemed too exhausted to carry him any further; the other was a youth of little more than sixteen, whose thin brown arms were desperately trying to help the older man. Neither wore armour nor carried any weapons, and at the sight of Eperitus in the portico of the temple towards which they were heading they stopped and seemed to quail with fear.
Then a group of a dozen warriors came rushing out of the side street after them, brandishing swords and spears. One carried a bow, to which an arrow was already fitted. As he saw the two men he drew the string back to his right ear and released the arrow, sending the younger of the two spinning to the ground. While the older man turned to his dead companion, Eperitus pulled the girl back into the cool darkness of the temple.
‘What are you doing?’ she protested. ‘Save him!’
‘Shut up and come with me,’ Eperitus commanded, taking her by the arm and dragging her deeper into the gloom. ‘Is there a back way out of this cursed place?’
‘But those are Greek soldiers. Can’t you intervene to save the old man’s life?’
‘They’re Myrmidons and they’re already drunk with killing. One sight of you and they won’t care whether I’m a Trojan or a Greek – they’ll kill me just so they can have their way with you. Now, if you really want me to help you, then tell me how to get out of here.’
‘There’ll be a side door somewhere. Behind a curtain, I think.’
‘You think? But you’re the priestess here – shouldn’t you know?’
A sudden scream announced the demise of the old man. Eperitus looked to the doorway, where he could hear the voices of the Myrmidons in the street beyond.
‘They’re going to come in here looking for something to steal,’ the girl said, her voice rising with panic. ‘Come on. There’s the curtain over there.’
‘And where does it lead?’ Eperitus asked, tightening his grip on her arm and eyeing her suspiciously as she tried to pull away.
‘To an antechamber. There’ll be another door leading out on to the side street that runs beside the temple. We must be quick.’
‘No,’ Eperitus replied, looking at the girl. Her eyes were pale and wide in the darkness where they stood by the altar stone, but as he heard the voices of the Myrmidons approaching he refused to move towards the curtain the girl was gesturing at or loosen his grip on her arm. ‘We’re going nowhere until you tell me who you are.’
‘I’m the priestess of—’
‘The priestess of this temple would have known immediately where the side door was. Who are you?’