Eperitus was impressed, though not surprised, by his friend’s analysis of the situation. But he also wondered whether Agamemnon’s sending them to Mycenae had anything to do with the secret Calchas said would be revealed to him there. He had a gut feeling that it did.
‘Whatever the reason, though,’ Odysseus continued after they had ridden in silence for a while, ‘I’m glad to be away from Aulis. And it isn’t just those unnatural storms – all that waiting around and doing nothing was slowly robbing me of my sanity.’
Eperitus nodded. ‘Yes, it is good to be travelling again. The last long journey we took by road was when we went to Sparta, all those years ago. And we didn’t have ponies then.’
‘No, we didn’t,’ Odysseus laughed. ‘But do you remember those pack animals? I’ve seen more flesh on a sparrow.’
‘I remember trying to get the damned things across that river,’ Eperitus said. ‘But I remember the fights best. Do you think we’ll have as much fun at Troy?’
‘I hope we’ll never get there,’ Odysseus replied, as if to remind his friend he had not yet accepted the inevitability of war. ‘But if a warrior can’t enjoy a good scrap, then what can he enjoy? There are a lot of good men whose spirits will go down to Hades’s halls before it’s all over, though, Achilles among them.’
‘It’s hard to imagine there’s a man alive who could kill him,’ Eperitus said. ‘You’ve seen his mock fights with the Ajaxes – they’re both excellent warriors, but he’s twice as quick as they are. If they were his enemies rather than his friends he’d have killed them both a hundred times over. And he can wrestle, box and run, too, better than anyone else I’ve seen.’
‘And yet his own mother has predicted he’ll die at Troy,’ Odysseus said. He spat contemptuously on the road. ‘There are too many prophecies about this war. Soon a man won’t dare to lift his spear in anger for fear of bringing about his own death – or being doomed not to see his homeland for twenty years.’
Eperitus sensed his friend’s pain as he thought of his family. If Penelope had been his wife and Telemachus his son, he wondered whether any oath would be able to separate him from them. But he also knew that Odysseus had the courage and endurance to do his duty if the war came, and go to Troy and fight until he was the last man alive if the gods demanded it.
At that point, Odysseus leaned forward and raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. ‘What do you think’s got into Polites?’ he asked.
He pointed to where the giant warrior – the foremost in their party – had stopped his pony and was staring ahead of himself, also holding up a hand against the bright sunlight. The next instant, he jumped from his pony and ran towards a crumpled shape at the side of the road. Eperitus and Odysseus spurred their own ponies into a gallop, covering the distance in a few moments. They dismounted and ran to where Polites was scooping something large and heavy from among the rocks.
‘What is it?’ Odysseus demanded.
‘Not it, my lord,’ the Thessalian replied in his deep, slow voice. He stood and turned to face them. ‘She.’
Draped between his muscular arms was a girl. Her eyes were shut and her head hung limply across the crook of his elbow, a cascade of black hair flowing almost to the ground. Her young cheeks were smeared with blood and dirt, as were her long, suntanned limbs. One of her sandals was missing and her white cotton dress had been torn open to expose her pale breasts.
Polites’s broad, flat face stared down at her with tender pity, and for a moment Eperitus thought she was dead. Then he saw a faint movement of her ribs and knew there was still breath within her.
‘She’s alive!’ he exclaimed, reaching for the skin of water that hung over his shoulder and pulling out the stopper. ‘Bring her here, Polites.’
He tipped some of the lukewarm liquid into the palm of his hand, then poured it over her forehead and rubbed away the dirt and blood with his thumb. Her skin was warm and soft, which gave him hope she was still far from death. He did the same to each cheek, then lifted the mouth of the water skin to her lips and, after pulling them open to reveal her bottom teeth and her tongue, allowed some of the liquid to flow into her mouth. At once, the girl choked and brought her head forward, coughing until the water ran back out over her chin and neck.
Her eyes fluttered open and she blinked up at Eperitus. A moment later she flung her arm across her face and turned her head away.
‘Why don’t you leave me alone!’ she cried. ‘You’ve taken all I have. What more do you want?’
‘Don’t be afraid,’ Eperitus said. ‘We’re not going to harm you.’
‘We found you by the road,’ Polites added. ‘You’ll be safe with us.’
The girl was no more than twenty years old, and with the dried blood and streaked grime washed from her face her natural beauty was clear to see. She looked up at Polites with her grey eyes and smiled.
‘Thank you. Who are you?’
‘We’re going to Mycenae,’ Odysseus said, stepping forward and pulling the torn halves of the girl’s dress across her breasts. ‘King Agamemnon has sent us.’
The girl watched the other four members of the troop trot up behind him and dismount.
‘Then you must have come from the army at Aulis,’ she said, letting her eyes roam over Odysseus’s bearded face and broad chest. ‘And you must be one of the kings, judging by your looks.’
‘Don’t concern yourself about me,’ Odysseus said, his hands on his hips. ‘Tell us who you are and what has happened to you.’
‘You can put me down now,’ the girl instructed Polites. There was authority in her voice, though her simple dress and her suntanned skin indicated she was no more than a peasant girl or a slave.
Polites let her slip gently to the ground, and as she stood they could see she was almost as tall as the colossal warrior. She turned to Odysseus. ‘My lord, whoever you are, my name is Galatea. I serve the goddess Artemis in her temple on the other side of that wood, and live with my widowed mother in a house nearby. Until recently I led a simple but happy life, tending to my mistress’s shrine and offering her prayers and pleasing sacrifices. But, ever since the kings left for Aulis and took their armies with them, these lands have become a dangerous place. There are so many brigands roaming the countryside now, no one dares to venture far from their towns or villages. Then, last night . . .’
A pained look filled her eyes and for a moment the strength left her. Polites caught her as she fell, supporting her in his arms as if she weighed no more than a child.
‘Here,’ said Eperitus, handing her his water. ‘Take as much as you need.’
She thanked him and lifted the skin to her lips, taking several mouthfuls.
‘Then last night they came to the temple. There were four of them, standing in the shadows by the entrance, but I could see the torchlight gleaming on their bronze swords. I told them to leave – ordered them to in the name of Artemis – but they just laughed. Then one slapped me across the face and tore my dress. Another stripped me bare – me, a virgin servant of Artemis!’
‘They weren’t afraid to violate the sanctity of the gods?’ Odysseus asked, frowning.
‘Or the sanctity of their servants,’ Galatea said, tears suddenly filling her eyes. ‘When they were finished they beat me and left me on the temple floor, where I think I just drifted into a sort of dream. Eventually I was woken by the dawn light spreading across the temple floor, gleaming red, warming me as it touched my skin. And then I remembered my mother.’
She stopped, unable to go on through her broken-hearted sobs.