‘I consent to protect Telemachus from any who would do him harm, and provide for him if his parents cannot; and I call upon all the gods of Olympus to bear witness to my oath.’
He raised the krater to his lips and drank. The ceremony was over.
Penelope moved past her husband and kissed Eperitus on the cheek. ‘Here,’ she said, placing Telemachus into the captain’s hands and standing beside him, looking down at her son and smiling with contentment. ‘We want you to be a second father to him.’
Eperitus knew the time had come. He looked at Arceisius, who returned his gaze with a slight nod.
‘I’m proud to be his protector,’ Eperitus said, turning back to Penelope. ‘But I can never be a second father to Telemachus.’
‘Nonsense,’ Odysseus scoffed. ‘You’ve so much to offer him, and it won’t be long before he learns to love you like a parent.’
Eperitus shook his head. ‘You don’t understand. He won’t see enough of me to love me. Unlike you, I won’t be around when his needs are greatest. The truth is . . . the truth is I’m leaving – today – and Arceisius is coming with me. I’m asking you to release me from my oath to you, Odysseus.’
Penelope stepped back as if she had been struck. In the same instant Odysseus moved forward, his expression incredulous. He placed his large hands on Eperitus’s arms and looked him in the eye.
‘I know I challenged you about this on our return from Samos, because I’ve always feared you would wish to leave one day, but why do you want to go now? Didn’t you tell me you had no intention of leaving? Besides, if it’s because of what the goddess said . . .’ He glanced out of the corner of his eye and lowered his voice. ‘If that’s the reason, we don’t even know yet that this war will happen. Until it does, you should stay here where you have friends and a position of authority, everything you need.’
‘But I don’t have everything I need!’ Eperitus rejoined. ‘Yes, I have good friends, a home in the palace, my own slaves and more wealth than I know what to do with, but what’s the point of it all? What I want is something lasting, something to be remembered by when my flesh and bones have rotted in the ground or been turned to ash. You have Telemachus, a bloodline to carry forward your memory. I have nothing.’
‘Then find a wife here,’ Penelope said, holding her hands towards him. ‘There are hundreds of beautiful women on these islands who could bring you happiness and children of your own. You could have married Odysseus’s sister, but you never returned her interest and in the end her father let her go to that merchant in Samos, fearing she would get too old to marry.’
‘But I don’t want a quiet family life,’ Eperitus replied, gently. ‘I want to make a name for myself with my spear. I used to think I could live on this island and be happy, but in recent days I’ve come to realize I can’t. I just hope you will forgive me, both of you.’
As he said these words, he caught a movement in the distance behind Odysseus’s shoulder and stared out at the grey sea, where a large warship was cutting through the turbulent waves. Its deck was crowded with armoured soldiers, their weapons glinting like gold in the sunlight as they stared up at the rocky, inhospitable slopes of Ithaca. Above their heads, a gigantic purple sail snapped repeatedly in the strong wind. It bore the device of a golden lion pinning a deer beneath its huge paws as it tore out its throat with its teeth.
Odysseus, seeing the alarm on the faces of Eperitus, Arceisius and Eurybates, turned to watch for himself the swift progress of the galley as it rounded the headland.
‘Arceisius,’ Eperitus said, his voice calm but urgent. ‘Run back to the palace and call out the guard. Send the townsfolk to their homes and assemble the men on the terrace; Odysseus and I will follow shortly.’
‘Wait!’ Odysseus countermanded. ‘They’re not enemies: that sail belongs to the royal house of Mycenae. It’s Agamemnon!’
‘Agamemnon!’ Eperitus repeated. ‘But what’s he doing here?’
‘I don’t know, but I’ve a nasty feeling it’s to do with what Athena warned us about.’
Eperitus turned to the king and was surprised to see fear in his eyes. ‘But if that’s the case, what have you got to worry about? If Agamemnon is seeking recruits for war with Troy, then tell him it’s nothing to do with you. It’s just as you told Athena: you owe no allegiance to Mycenae or its king.’
‘Not him,’ Odysseus replied. ‘But I do to Menelaus. I’ve been pondering the goddess’s words to us, Eperitus, and I think I may have been caught out by one of my own tricks!’
‘What are you two talking about?’ Penelope asked, looking concerned as she rocked Telemachus gently in her arms. ‘What’s all this about Troy and Menelaus, and tricks?’
But Odysseus did not hear: he was looking around as if searching for something. His eyes narrowed in thought for a moment, and then he snapped his fingers and looked urgently at Eperitus.
‘Was that old farmer still ploughing on the other side of that hill when you came over from the palace?’
‘Yes, and he’ll be there all day at the rate he was going.’
‘Excellent! Arceisius, run to the palace and get Eurylochus to call out a guard of honour for Agamemnon – and possibly his brother, Menelaus. Then I want you to bring an ass and a bag of salt to where that farmer was ploughing, as quickly as you can. Is that clear?’
‘As milk!’ Arceisius smiled, before setting off at a sprint up the hillside.
Chapter Nine
THE MADNESS OF ODYSSEUS
King Agamemnon, son of Atreus, stood at the edge of the broad terrace before the palace walls, his tall, muscular form still swaying slightly from having spent several days at sea. He wore a short tunic of the purest white wool and a golden breastplate that gleamed savagely in the sun. A red cloak, fastened by a golden brooch at his left shoulder, flowed over his back and around his calves like a river of blood. His smooth brown hair was tied into a tail beneath the back of his head, and his reddish-brown beard was short and meticulously trimmed. At only thirty-five years of age, his face was still young and handsome, but it was also stern and authoritative, as befitted the most powerful man in Greece.
His emotionless blue eyes scanned the Ithacan guardsmen paraded before him, instinctively noting the good condition of their dated weaponry and the well-oiled shine of their leather armour. Though their clothing lacked any sense of uniformity, the practised way in which they moved suggested to Agamemnon that they worked well together as a unit of men. He also approved of their physical condition – whether young or old (and there were many greybeards) the development of their muscles indicated long practice with their armaments. If all the men on Ithaca were to the standard of the hundred before him, they would be worth five times their number in levied soldiers.
Things had clearly changed since Odysseus had visited Sparta ten years before, when the soldiers he brought with him had been a spirited but bedraggled band. In those days they had been led by a captain called Halitherses, as Agamemnon recalled – an old warrior who liked to keep his men fit and well trained. But Halitherses was nowhere to be seen, and it was unlikely that the man who stood before the line of Ithacan spearmen now was responsible for their battle-readiness. Nevertheless, he signalled to the two men beside him and crossed the terrace towards the line of waiting soldiers.