‘I can’t say I’m not disappointed,’ he sighed, ‘but if you’re the men I’ve been sent to find, then you’d better listen to me. King Odysseus of Ithaca, son of Laertes, offers you free passage back to the Peloponnese. If you go now, you’ll not be harmed and you’ll even be allowed to keep your armour and weapons.’
Some of the men on the slopes laughed incredulously, while others shouted angrily at the audacity of the man before them.
‘And if we refuse?’ asked the short bandit, his voice even more nasal as his temper edged higher.
Eperitus jumped down from the donkey and threw his cloak over his shoulder, revealing his leather breastplate and the sword hanging from his belt. ‘If you refuse, then I challenge any man amongst you to fight me to the death. If I win, then the rest of you must leave Odysseus’s kingdom and never return; but if your champion kills me, then Odysseus will cede the island of Samos and all its towns, villages, people, livestock and crops to you. What do you say?’
The bandit gave a derisive snort. ‘The king’s offer is generous, but there’s another alternative. If I want, I can have you and your lad shot where you stand. Then my comrades and I can continue to take what we please from the people of this fat little island.’
‘You could shoot us down if you wished, but then Odysseus would come to Samos himself, bringing his army with him. They’d hunt you down to the last man and leave your unburied bodies as carrion for the crows. At least if one of you has the stomach to fight me, you have a small chance of winning.’
‘King Odysseus must have a lot of faith in your skill as a warrior, if he’s prepared to stake part of his kingdom on you,’ the bandit replied. He looked up at his comrades and there was the glimmer of a smile on his lips. ‘It’s an interesting choice: leave Samos without a fight; accept your challenge; or just kill you and take our chances with the king and his army. My head tells me to shoot you down and be done with it, but my heart wants to accept your challenge. And that is what we will do.’
There was a questioning murmur from the men on the slope, but the short bandit silenced his comrades with a wave of his hand. ‘If you kill our champion we give you our oaths before all the gods that we will leave peacefully, never to return. But there are to be no rules in this match, and I insist on one condition: the fight must be decided without weapons.’
‘Even better,’ Eperitus answered, already sliding his sword from its scabbard and passing it back to Arceisius. ‘I wouldn’t want it to be over too quickly.’
‘Of course not,’ the bandit grinned, before signalling to the men on the slope. ‘Send Polites down here! Now.’
‘I don’t trust them, sir,’ Arceisius said, undoing the buckles on Eperitus’s breastplate and prising the shaped leather away from his broad chest. He was looking up the slope to where the bandits were moving aside, their faces suddenly full of eager anticipation.
‘Don’t worry,’ Eperitus said in a low voice, removing his cloak and throwing it over the back of the donkey. ‘I only need to keep them distracted and buy us some time. Besides, there isn’t a man amongst this lot who could match me in a fight.’
‘I wouldn’t be so sure of that,’ Arceisius replied, his eyes widening as he watched Eperitus’s opponent striding down the slope behind him, throwing off his armour and weapons as he came.
Eperitus turned and felt a sudden rush of doubt at the sight of the man he was to face. Polites was a full head and shoulders taller than he was, and his muscles bulged like boulders under his taut skin. His square face was dominated by his thick black beard and his dark, cruel eyes. He reached the path and pulled off his cloak and tunic, then stood naked with his arms hanging at his side and his huge hands flexing repeatedly, already anticipating crushing the life out of his opponent.
Eperitus glanced higher up the slope and further along the path, at the same time straining his ears for sounds of discreet movement through the trees and bushes. He could hear nothing. Taking a deep breath to calm the sudden flurry of nerves, he unbuckled his belt and pulled off his tunic – clothes would only allow Polites to get an easy grip – and stepped forward.
Without waiting, Polites lunged at him with arms wide and fingers splayed. Eperitus ducked aside at the last moment, just as the long, heavily-muscled arms closed on the place where he had been standing. Turning on his heel, he punched Polites in the kidneys with all his force, only to cry out in pain as his fist impacted on the hard muscle. Before he could move away, Polites swung his right elbow back into his face, sending him reeling into the hindquarters of the donkey. The animal kicked out, narrowly missing Eperitus’s head, and broke through the circle of cheering Thessalians who had surrounded the fight.
Arceisius went to follow the donkey, but was pulled back by the short bandit. ‘You’re staying here, lad,’ he snarled, his lip curling to reveal yellow teeth.
Eperitus wiped the blood from his nose and staggered to his feet, still dazed from the blow to his face. Polites grinned confidently and walked towards him, certain his victory would be swift as he threw his arms wide and lunged again. The ring of onlookers closed towards Eperitus so that, this time, there could be no dodging the wide span of their champion’s immensely strong limbs. Realizing Polites had only one tactic – to crush the life out of him – Eperitus used his quicker reflexes to duck beneath his long reach and thrust his shoulder into the giant’s stomach.
The force of the blow would have knocked any other man from his feet and sent him toppling into the dust, but to Eperitus’s amazement Polites’s legs held. Then, in desperation, Eperitus thrust upwards, taking Polites’s full weight across his back and lifting him bodily from the ground. Then with a huge effort he stood and threw Polites into the dirt behind him.
There was a groan of dismay from the bandits, who shuffled back from the sprawling giant. Eperitus spun round, but Polites was already on his hands and knees and preparing to stand. Leaping forward, he swung his foot with as much speed and strength as he could muster into Polites’s exposed genitals. The soft flesh flattened beneath the top of his foot and a moment later a deafening bellow of pain erupted from his opponent’s lungs as he fell forward into the dirt, writhing in agony.
Eperitus was on him in an instant, thrusting his knee into his spine and hooking his right arm under his chin. He pulled back with all his strength, trying to snap the man’s neck. Whether the other Thessalians would honour their oath if he won, he did not know; he only knew that, unless he killed Polites now, the man would tear him apart. He pulled harder, sensing his opponent weakening as the shouts of the crowd receded into a shocked silence.
Then Polites placed the palms of his hands down on the earth and, slowly and irresistibly, began to push himself up. Eperitus tightened his grip about his neck and concentrated the weight of his body down through his knee in a desperate effort to keep him pinned to the floor, but the Thessalian’s strength seemed without measure. With a rage-filled roar, Polites thrust himself up and on to his side, pulling Eperitus’s arms away from his neck. The next moment he twisted free and leapt to his feet.
His supporters exploded back into life. Eperitus, now flat on his back, saw the terrible anger in Polites’s eyes as he reached down and picked him up, lifting him above his head as if he were no more than a child. With a huge grunt, he hurled the Ithacan across the circle of men to land in a heap at the feet of Arceisius.
For a moment Eperitus’s vision was filled with flashes of light, beyond which the world seemed to be spinning about him in a whirl of faces and trees set against a cloudy sky. His whole body was awash with pain, a thousand spear-points of agony stabbing at him relentlessly, and his ears were filled with the deafening sound of his own heartbeat. Then he saw Arceisius’s face bending close, his lips moving urgently.