‘Penelope will tell him all about you,’ Eperitus said. ‘Didn’t Clytaemnestra make sure Iphigenia knew everything I’d ever done, even though she didn’t meet me until she was nine years old? You can count on Penelope to do the same with Telemachus.’
Odysseus stared out across the white-capped waves. ‘But it’s not good enough, Eperitus. This war has me caught between two choices: be an absent husband and father, or dishonour my loved ones by breaking my oath to Menelaus. The first keeps me from the family and home I love, but the second would bring down a curse from the gods, on me and untold generations of my family.’
The identity of the two ships on the beach had become clear to the rest of the crew by now and their chatter was growing louder and more animated as they approached the shore.
‘Silence!’ the king ordered. ‘Keep your minds on your work.’
Astynome stirred at the sound of his barked command and looked groggily up at Eperitus. Odysseus had noticed a bond growing between the two of them in the week since the capture of Lyrnessus, something that was closer than the normal relationship between slave and master. She worked as hard as any of the other captives, but not out of a sense of subservience; in return, he treated her like an equal, giving her the freedom to come and go as she pleased, despite the fact that she could have run away at any time. And for the first time since the death of Iphigenia Odysseus had noticed a lightness in Eperitus’s spirit, the sort of lightness Odysseus had not felt himself since he had last seen Penelope – and one he would not feel again until she was back in his arms.
He slammed his fist down on the wooden rail.
‘Damn this war, Eperitus, and damn my own stupidity. For all my supposedly clever schemes for capturing Troy I was too blind to see why the Trojans have defeated every one of them. Why didn’t I realize there was a traitor?’ He lowered his voice as he looked into Eperitus’s eyes. ‘And it can only be someone in the Council of Kings. Someone at the very top has been selling our plans to Hector, and until your father’s slip at Lyrnessus, the Trojans have been far too clever to make it obvious.’
‘What do you intend to do?’ Eperitus asked.
‘Catch him, of course, and catch him soon. The quicker we stop the Trojans finding out all our plans, the quicker we can bring an end to the war.’
Eperitus glanced down at Astynome, who had closed her eyes again and lay back against the wall of the ship, then across at the benches where the crew were now quietly anticipating the approach of the shoreline and the imminent news from home.
‘But you don’t know who this traitor is,’ he hissed.
Odysseus smiled darkly. ‘Yes, I do. I’ve thought about it and there’s only one man I can think of. It’s Palamedes.’
Eperitus’s eyes widened briefly before contracting back into an unconvinced frown.
‘Palamedes?’ he whispered. ‘A week ago you weren’t even aware there was a traitor; now you’re convinced it’s Palamedes. How?’
‘I have an instinct it’s him.’
‘An instinct, Odysseus? But he’s one of Agamemnon’s inner circle, one of his closest advisers. This isn’t just because he humiliated you last winter, is it, bringing in a ship-load of grain when you hadn’t been able to find more than a few bags of mildewed corn in Thrace?’
Odysseus shook his head, slightly irritated at the accusation. Or was it that Eperitus’s guess was closer to the mark than he wanted to admit? After all, he had never forgiven Palamedes for exposing his attempt to feign madness when Agamemnon and Menelaus had called on him to honour his oath. Nor had he forgotten how Palamedes had frustrated his efforts at negotiating a peace before the war began. If it had not been for the weasel-faced Nauplian, he would have spent the last decade of his life at home on Ithaca with his family, ruling a peaceful and prosperous kingdom. But if his suspicions proved correct – as he was sure they would – and Palamedes had treacherously deprived the Greeks of victory, then his past anger would be as nothing compared to how he would feel then.
Eperitus crossed his arms and looked at Odysseus disapprovingly.
‘You can’t accuse an innocent man.’
‘I tell you he’s not innocent,’ Odysseus insisted. ‘I admit I don’t know why he’s doing it, but I have a strong suspicion how and I intend to prove I’m right. But if it makes you feel better I give you my word I won’t even accuse Palamedes until we can show the council he’s a traitor. Does that satisfy you?’
‘All right, then,’ Eperitus agreed. ‘I’ll help you get your proof, if you’re so certain.’
‘I am,’ Odysseus replied.
He stood up straight and signalled to Antiphus.
‘A little more to the left. As close in as you can get – there’re another nine ships to come after us. The rest of you,’ he added with a booming shout, ‘I want you in the water the moment we hit. Drag her up to the top of the beach so one of the others can get in behind us.’
‘Astynome,’ Eperitus said, offering the girl his hand. ‘Hold on to me. Quickly.’
She took his hand and he pulled her into his arms. A moment later the ship’s shallow bottom hit the soft sand beneath the waterline, sending a heavy judder through the thick timbers of the galley. Eperitus stood firm, his feet planted apart on the deck, while Astynome’s arms tightened around him. The next instant there was a shout of enthusiasm as, all around, men began leaping overboard into the knee-high water.
‘Leave the girl with Polites,’ Odysseus ordered, clapping Eperitus on the shoulder. ‘You and I are going to speak to Eurybates and Arceisius.’
Eperitus reluctantly gave Astynome to the giant warrior, before following Odysseus over the side and into the shallow water. The galley was surrounded by men who strained and grunted as they hauled her further up on to the sand. Then Odysseus and Eperitus heard a shout and saw Eurybates and Arceisius walking down the sloping beach towards them.
‘Greetings from Ithaca!’ Arceisius called.
‘We’ve brought gifts,’ added Eurybates. ‘Ithacan wine and cheese. New clothes for our noble king, made by Queen Penelope herself. And men – over eighty replacements!’
Odysseus greeted his herald with an embrace.
‘It’s good to have you back,’ he said, slapping him on the back. ‘You’ve already missed three good battles and I’ve got a feeling the gods are planning a lot more before the year’s out. I hope you’ve brought some decent fighters back with you.’
Eurybates looked uncertain. ‘They’re good fighters, all right, for the most part, but they won’t be what you or Eperitus were expecting.’
‘What do you mean?’ Eperitus frowned.
‘You’ll see,’ Arceisius said.
He greeted his captain with a tight embrace. Eperitus had taught him to be a warrior, and though he was no longer his squire, Arceisius was pleased to see his former master again after the weeks spent sailing to Ithaca and back. Then he turned to Odysseus and offered the king his hand.
‘I’m pleased the gods have brought you back safely, Arceisius,’ Odysseus said, pulling him into a hug. His smile stiffened slightly and the light in his eyes grew a shade dimmer. ‘But what news of home? Is Ithaca still as beautiful as I remember her? Am I still king?’
‘Mentor and Halitherses continue to rule in your name, my lord,’ he answered, though without conviction. Odysseus’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing so Arceisius continued. ‘And Ithaca is as lovely as it ever was. More so. It seemed to me as if hardly a stone had been moved from its place since we left her all those years ago, and yet . . .’