‘And yet?’
‘And yet I’d never really understood the beauty of my home until I went back. When I saw her outline on the horizon, with giant Samos beside her, I suddenly realized that my heart had never left Ithaca. All this time I’ve spent in Ilium I’ve been like a wraith, Odysseus, a soulless shade of my real self.’ He paused and then shrugged, as if his words were of no value. ‘I think it would have broken your heart to have returned, knowing you must come back here.’
There was a moment’s silence, broken eventually by Eurybates.
‘It was a lot colder than I remember,’ he said. ‘The wind coming off the Ionian Sea just seems to cut through anything. And it rained a lot, even for the tail end of winter. But cold winds and grey skies can’t dim the wonder of your own home. Arceisius is right – everything looks the same. It smells the same, too: the dung heap by the palace gates, the livestock in the marketplace, the scent of the pine trees wafting down from Mount Neriton; even the woodsmoke smells Ithacan. It made my heart ache just to hear the birds sing and see the first flowers of spring among the rocks and on the hillsides. The girls were wearing them in their hair as they waved us off.
‘And there’s another thing about Ithaca that has grown more lovely since we left. I don’t know whether it’s this gods-forsaken country and the lack of women around these past ten or so years, or whether the immortals have simply blessed Ithaca while we’ve been gone, but I’ve never seen so many beautiful girls. And they couldn’t get enough of a couple of battle-hardened old sweats like us. Arceisius here even got married.’
‘Married!’ exclaimed Eperitus and Odysseus simultaneously.
The usually pert and confident Arceisius was suddenly bashful, his naturally red cheeks turning almost crimson.
‘Is it true?’ Eperitus asked, the corner of his mouth rising in an amused smile. ‘The greatest womanizer in the Ithacan camp tamed at last? She must be a real beauty, this wife of yours.’
‘She is,’ said Eurybates. ‘And at least she’s Greek. There are too many men in the army taking Trojan captives as wives or concubines.’
Eperitus ignored the comment and offered his congratulations to his former squire. Odysseus took Arceisius’s hand again and gripped it firmly.
‘You have your king’s blessing,’ he said. ‘Marriage is good for a man – it gives him something to fight for. But who is this girl and where are you hiding her?’
‘It’s Melantho, my lord, Dolius’s daughter,’ Arceisius replied. ‘I insisted she stay on Ithaca. At least she’ll be safe there.’
‘I hope she will,’ Odysseus said. ‘But if Melantho’s the same little firebrand I used to know – though she was only a little girl back then – well, I’m sure she can look after herself until you return. But what of my wife? Tell me, Arceisius, is she safe? Are Telemachus and my parents safe? There’s something about you two that tells me all’s not well at home.’
‘Have no fear for your wife or family, my lord,’ Arceisius replied. ‘At least not for now. But if you want to know about affairs at home, don’t ask us; we weren’t back long enough. You should ask the replacements.’
He indicated the men who had been standing at the top of the beach as Odysseus’s galley had run aground. A few were now helping to haul the ships on to the sand, while others were sharing news of Ithaca with the eager crowds of men who had not seen their homes for over ten years. A sizeable group, though, had remained where they stood, aloof from or ignored by the rest. These were generally older than the other replacements and had the bearing of men who had seen battle and for whom war was a way of life. They were perhaps a score in number and at least half of them were tall and armed with long spears. Eperitus eyed the latter with alarm.
‘Some of those men are Taphians.’
‘I told you they wouldn’t be what you were expecting,’ Arceisius reminded him.
‘Did Mentes send them?’ Odysseus asked, referring to the Taphian chieftain. Though the Taphians had been enemies of Ithaca for many years, Odysseus had forged a friendship with Mentes that – though it had not brought friendship or alliance – had at least put an end to the hostility.
‘I only wish that had been the case,’ Eurybates answered. ‘Unfortunately, this isn’t a popular war with the nobility back home. The law has been changed, allowing those who can afford it to send a proxy in their place. Of the eighty-four men we brought back with us, twenty-two are mercenaries and twelve of them are Taphians.’
‘Then we should send them back again at once,’ Eperitus said, clenching his fists. ‘And when we get home to Ithaca we can settle matters with those nobles who’ve bought their way out of joining the army.’
Odysseus shook his head. He was concerned and angry that so many of the Ithacan nobility would dare snub his authority so openly, but sending the mercenaries back to Ithaca would only risk more trouble for Penelope and those ruling in his stead. His revenge would wait.
‘Let the mercenaries stay,’ he said. ‘The gods know we need experienced fighting men, and a quarter of the Greek army is made up of mercenaries anyway. Right now, I need to speak to one of these replacements, someone with a good head on his shoulders. Agamemnon, Menelaus and Nestor will be waiting to hear my news, but first I need to learn exactly how things stand at home.’
‘Then you’ll want to speak to Omeros,’ Arceisius suggested.
He pointed to a well-fed youth sitting in the tall grass at the top of the beach. His arms were crossed over his knees and his shaven chin was resting on his wrist as he watched the ships landing one after another and being dragged up on to the sand. His quick eyes were following the activity around the beaked galleys and remained unaware of the four men who were staring at him from among the crowds.
‘By all the gods on Olympus, it is Omeros,’ Eperitus said, shielding his eyes against the high sun. ‘I never imagined I’d see him here.’
‘Still a dreamer, by the looks of him,’ Odysseus said, smiling. ‘But if he’s as clever and observant as he used to be then he’ll know what’s really happening at home. Eurybates, Arceisius, get those replacements working on the ships – including the mercenaries – and have them ready for my inspection by sunset; Eperitus, come with me.’
As the others bowed and turned to the crowds milling around the galleys, Odysseus and Eperitus walked up the beach towards Omeros, kicking up small fountains of white sand behind them. Omeros only seemed to notice their approach at the last moment, when he stood in confusion and – recognizing his king – dipped into an awkward bow.
‘M . . . my lord,’ he stuttered. ‘My lord Odysseus!’
‘Welcome to Troy, Omeros,’ the king said, pulling him upright. ‘You’ve grown well since I last saw you.’
‘Outwards more than upwards, though,’ Eperitus added, grinning.
Omeros placed a hand on his large stomach and looked down at himself in concern, then back at the captain of the guard.
‘It’s nothing I can’t run off, my lord Eperitus,’ he answered. ‘And may I say that you’ve barely changed at all in ten years.’