Eperitus recognized something of his younger self in Arceisius and smiled as he watched the fledgling warrior. Putting his concerns aside, he now turned his full attention on the man before him. He was young and bearded, with a single, angry eyebrow forming a black V across his forehead. His attacks were energetic and accompanied by grunts of exertion, but they were predictable and easy to parry. As Arceisius plunged his sword into his opponent’s chest, Eperitus beat aside another attack and began to stab and hack at the Thessalian, forcing him to think and react quicker and quicker as each new thrust came at him. Eventually, Eperitus’s skilful onslaught prised his enemy’s guard wide open and he pushed the point of his sword into the man’s liver. As the Thessalian fell to his knees, Eperitus withdrew his reddened blade from the man’s gut and swept his head from his shoulders.
He turned and saw that the battle behind them was already over. Stepping across the corpse, he clapped Arceisius on the shoulder.
‘Well done, lad,’ he said. ‘You showed real skill with that sword.’
‘Thanks,’ Arceisius replied uncertainly, looking down at the man he had slain. There was a shadow of distaste in his expression – a hint of doubt – but as he sensed his captain’s eyes upon him he looked up and forced a smile to his lips. ‘Thanks, sir.’
None of the bandits remained standing and at a quick count Eperitus could see that all the Ithacans had survived, which did not surprise him given the fact they had enjoyed the advantage of spears and shields against the swords of the Thessalians. Odysseus stood in the middle of the carnage, the gore running in rivulets down the shaft of his spear. He ignored the pleas of the wounded men around him; they had been given their chance to surrender and now the only mercy they would be shown was a dagger across the throat to quicken their passing.
‘You were late,’ Eperitus called to him. ‘That giant nearly killed me.’
Odysseus smiled cockily. ‘I was exactly on time. The fact you’re still alive proves it.’
At that moment, Eurylochus came striding across the path to the point where the short bandit’s body lay. He seized hold of his arrow, tugged it free from the dead man’s chest and proceeded to wipe it clean on the corner of his cloak, but as he slid it back into the leather quiver that hung at his waist, Eperitus grabbed him by the chest and spun him around.
‘What do you want?’ Eurylochus asked indignantly.
‘This!’
Eperitus drew back his fist and slammed it into Eurylochus’s smug, round face. Blood exploded from his nostrils as the force of the blow sent him staggering backwards. He caught his heel on the corpse of the short bandit and fell in a heap, one hand clutching at his broken nose.
‘What in Hades did you do that for?’ he screamed in a thick voice, trying to stem the blood flow. The other Ithacans, who had been pilfering from the bodies of the Thessalians, stopped what they were doing and looked over.
‘Because you deserved it, you oaf,’ Eperitus answered angrily. ‘What did you think you were doing when you fired that arrow? These men were about to give up, and if you’d held your damned nerve they’d still be alive now.’
There was a murmur of agreement from the others.
‘Odysseus!’ Eurylochus whined, stretching a pleading hand towards the king. ‘You saw what he did. I demand you . . .’
‘Just shut up, Eurylochus,’ Antiphus hissed.
Odysseus held up a hand and an immediate silence fell. ‘Step back, Eperitus,’ he said. ‘You’ve made your feelings known – now let him be. As for you, cousin, you can count yourself fortunate no Ithacans died here. If they had I’d have held you responsible. Now, get back to the camp and tell Eurybates we’ll be returning as soon as we’ve buried these men.’
Eurylochus struggled to his feet, still holding his nose.
‘You’ll pay for this, Eperitus,’ he said, spitting blood on the ground at his feet, before turning on his heel and stumbling down the path.
‘I know what you’re going to say,’ Odysseus said, holding his hands up to Eperitus. The authority he had shown a moment before was gone and they were just friends again. ‘You warned me he’d put us in danger. I know.’
Eperitus shook his head in mock disapproval, then broke into a smile. ‘Well, at least we’re unharmed.’
As he spoke, one of the corpses sat up. The Ithacans stepped back in shock and stared at the massive, naked figure of Polites, rubbing the large bruise on his forehead and looking about in confusion. As soon as his eyes fell on Eperitus, though, his expression changed to sudden fury and he struggled to his knees. In a quick movement, Antiphus slipped the bow from his shoulder and fitted an arrow, aiming it straight at the broad chest of the Thessalian.
‘Don’t shoot!’ Odysseus ordered, stepping between them and holding up his hands. He turned to Polites and met his angry stare. ‘Look about you. The battle’s over and your comrades are dead. I offered them their lives, but the stubborn fools chose to fight.’
Polites stared at the bodies of the other bandits, then at the armed men standing all around him. His puzzlement was clear, but eventually he understood what had happened. He stared up at Odysseus, his eyes dark and bitter.
‘Perhaps you intend to kill me too,’ he said in his deep, slow voice.
‘I shall neither kill you nor banish you,’ the king announced. ‘You were a soldier once, but now you’ve fallen on hard times and have turned to less honourable means to feed yourself. Am I right?’
Polites lowered his proud eyes to the ground. ‘Yes,’ he answered, simply.
‘Then I will give you a chance to restore your dignity and take up your former profession again. We could do with another experienced warrior – especially one of your size and power. If you’ll take an oath of fealty, you can join my guard under Eperitus’s captaincy.’
Odysseus indicated the man who, a short while before, Polites had tried to kill with his bare hands. Polites looked at Eperitus, who met his stare and nodded amicably. After all, he thought, Odysseus was right: what captain would not want a warrior of Polites’s massive build and brute strength under his command?
‘That would be an honour,’ Polites said.
Then the king stepped forward and offered him his hand. After a moment’s pause, the Thessalian took it.
Chapter Four
APHEIDAS’S REVENGE
‘Shush now,’ Paris said gently, stroking the broad neck of the excited mare. She pressed her nostrils against his shoulder and blew warm, horse-smelling breath over his skin. ‘Be still. You’ll get your breakfast and exercise soon enough.’
He withdrew from the affectionate rubbing of the animal’s lips and gestured for the youngest of the three grooms, who were watching him with fascination, to join him.
‘Even in Troy it’s said Spartans are the best horse-breeders in Greece,’ he announced, making the boy grin with pride. ‘But this girl’s special, even by your country’s standards. What’s her name, lad?’
‘Lipse, my lord. After the wind goddess.’