Part 26 (1/2)

Eperitus watched the men plant their feet firmly on the paved road and grip the shafts of their spears. The overlapping plates of their body armour guarded every natural weakness from the neck to the groin, while the layer of boars' tusks on their bronze helmets would deflect almost any blow. More concerning, though, were the eyes that stared out from beneath the ornate helmets: they were confident but cautious, and it seemed to Eperitus that every one of the men facing him was a skilled and natural fighter. If the defence provided by their armour would not prove too difficult to penetrate, then their training and experience might. Nevertheless, he positioned himself in front of them and took his spear in both hands.

'Throw down your weapons, man,' said one of the Mycenaeans, a short, stocky soldier with a long beard. There was sympathy in his hard eyes. 'Don't make us kill you.'

Eperitus took two paces forward. The three men in the middle of the line stepped back, while the two on either side edged round to form a horseshoe about him. Iphigenia stooped to pick up Eperitus's second spear, but was grabbed by her mother, who pulled her back and held her tightly. As the Mycenaeans were still moving, Eperitus lunged to the left with his s.h.i.+eld held out before him. The four-fold leather smashed into the nearest soldier, pus.h.i.+ng him over the edge of the road to fall cras.h.i.+ng down the gentle slope beyond. In the same instant he swung the shaft of his spear at the face of the next soldier, who was already turning to meet the attack. It caught him above the neckguard, causing him to drop his spear and stagger backwards, dark blood oozing out between his fingers as he clutched at his injured mouth.

The remaining Mycenaeans gave a shout of anger and surged forward. The nearest struck low, stabbing with the point of his spear at Eperitus's groin. The blow was intended to kill him, and as he swept it aside with his s.h.i.+eld Eperitus knew the battle would be to the death. He lunged at his opponent, thrusting his spear into the gap where the warrior had leaned forward to attack. The point would normally have found the soft flesh above the thigh, crippling the man if not killing him, but instead was turned aside with a dull sc.r.a.pe by the lowest plate of body armour.

The man stepped back, shaken by the skill and ferocity of Eperitus's attack. Two others took his place, striking simultaneously, one high from the left and the other low to the right. Eperitus sensed rather than saw the approach of both spear-points, instinctively raising his s.h.i.+eld to deflect the first while twisting aside so that the other slipped past him. He felt the ash shaft brus.h.i.+ng past his hip, and at the same time heard a scream of alarm from Iphigenia. Eperitus looked across to see one of the guards brus.h.i.+ng Clytaemnestra aside and seizing hold of his daughter.

With a roar of anger, he swung the edge of his s.h.i.+eld into the face of one of his opponents, breaking his nose and sending him stumbling backwards. The other rushed forward, only to receive the head of Eperitus's spear in his thigh. It pa.s.sed through his leg and was torn from Eperitus's grip as the man fell dying to the ground, the dark blood pumping thick and fast from the pierced artery. Eperitus jumped across the screaming warrior and, casting aside his c.u.mbersome s.h.i.+eld, rushed to help Iphigenia.

'Stand back!' he ordered as Clytaemnestra tried to pull the tall, muscular soldier away from her daughter.

The man's s.h.i.+eld was slung across his back and he had thrown his spear aside in the struggle with the child and her mother. He turned at the sound of Eperitus's voice, but on seeing that his enemy was unarmed stepped forward with his fists raised and a grim smile on his face. Eperitus dodged the first blow, which swept past his left ear, and reacted with an upward punch to the man's nose. The Mycenaean tottered sideways, stunned and blinking, but was quick to regain his senses. With a shake of his head, he turned and raised his fists again. Eperitus moved around him so that he was standing in front of Iphigenia.

'Father!' the girl warned, as the other guards formed a new line across the road. They were joined by the two men who had been knocked aside by Eperitus's first attack, their eyes burning with a desire for revenge.

'Clytaemnestra,' Eperitus said, not taking his eyes from the man before him. 'When I attack, take Iphigenia down the slope and into the town. Find the horses and escape don't wait for me.'

Before she could reply, he kicked downward at his opponent's s.h.i.+n, sc.r.a.ping away the flesh with the edge of his sandal. The man shouted with pain, but was quickly silenced by a swift blow from Eperitus's fist. The next instant, Eperitus drew his sword and prepared to run at the line of men before him. That he would die on their spear-points was inevitable, but if it gave his daughter a chance to flee he knew the sacrifice would be worthwhile.

'What is this!' barked a cold voice.

Eperitus turned to see Agamemnon standing in the gateway. He was tall and fearsome in his red cloak, white tunic and gleaming breastplate, as formidable a sight as the snarling stone lions in the wall above his head. On either side of him were Odysseus and Eurylochus. Eurylochus was grinning broadly, but Odysseus's face was a mixture of concern, confusion and anger as he looked at the armed men spread across the road.

'Eperitus,' he said, sharply, 'what's happening here? Eurylochus says you were trying to run away with Agamemnon's wife and daughter. In the name of Athena, tell me he's wrong!'

'I'm not wrong, my lord,' Eurylochus announced, stepping forward and pointing an accusing finger at Eperitus. 'I followed him down to the gardens and heard him and the queen planning to run away to Ithaca. I didn't catch everything, but I know there's a man waiting with horses and provisions for a long journey.'

'You treacherous worm!' Eperitus sneered, shooting a glance at Eurylochus.

Clytaemnestra stepped forward and looked imploringly at the king of Ithaca. 'Whatever Eurylochus thinks he heard, Odysseus, he is wrong,' she answered. 'Iphigenia's life is in danger, and I asked Eperitus to help me get her away from Mycenae.'

'What sort of danger?' Odysseus demanded.

Eperitus sheathed his sword and looked at his daughter. She stared back at him with fear in her eyes, but also pride at his fierce resistance against the Mycenaean guards. He fought the urge to pull her into the safety of his arms.

'Calchas has bewitched the King of Men,' he replied, turning to Odysseus. 'He convinced Agamemnon that the storm at Aulis will not be lifted unless he sacrifices Iphigenia to Artemis, as retribution for the slaying of the white hart. When Clytaemnestra told me, I agreed to protect her.'

'A human sacrifice!' asked Odysseus, staring incredulously at Calchas on top of the slope. 'That sort of thing is the stuff of legend, not reality!'

'All wars require sacrifice,' Agamemnon responded. 'Didn't you tell me in the woods that hunting the white hart could cost us dear? Well, if war with Troy requires the death of my own daughter then so be it.'

He stepped out from beneath the shadow of the gate and held out his hand towards Iphigenia. His jaw was set firmly and his blue eyes were as hard as sapphires as he stared at the girl. She responded with a look of hatred and, leaving Clytaemnestra's side, ran towards Eperitus and threw her arms about him. Eperitus placed the palm of his hand on her head, but could not look at her.

With an expression of contempt on his pale face, Agamemnon signalled to his guards, who seized Eperitus by the arms and pulled him away from his daughter. Another took hold of the queen and dragged her out of the king's path as he walked down the sloping road towards Iphigenia, followed closely by Odysseus. At that moment Eperitus realized the oath he had sworn to Clytaemnestra the oath to protect Agamemnon was not binding until the king killed Iphigenia. But if Eperitus could kill Agamemnon now, though he would lose his own life in the aftermath, he would at least save the girl.

With a huge backward thrust of his arms, he threw off the men who were holding him and drew his sword from its scabbard. It flashed red, catching the light of the sun as it rose above the mountains in the east, but as Eperitus turned his fierce gaze on Agamemnon, Odysseus whipped out his own sword and brought the pommel down on the back of his friend's head.

Chapter Twenty-six.

THE KING AND THE THIEF.

Eperitus woke from the depths of a dark dream with his head throbbing and his body feeling as if it were made of stone. He looked up at an unfamiliar ceiling, colourfully decorated on one side with scenes of maidens dancing to the music of lyres and flutes, and on the other with naked youths boxing, wrestling and running. He briefly recalled his dream, in which he had been pursuing a silver deer through a dark forest, only to see the creature transformed into Iphigenia as he closed upon her with his spear. Then he heard the sc.r.a.pe of a chair nearby, followed by sandalled feet crossing a stone floor towards him.

'How's your head?' Odysseus asked, looking down at his friend with a mixture of concern and relief. 'I hit you a bit harder than I intended. You've been out cold for most of the day.'

Eperitus sat up, provoking sharp stabbing pains in the back of his head and between his eyes. He winced, but quickly brushed aside the discomfort to focus on Odysseus. 'Where's Iphigenia?' he croaked. 'What happened?'

He sat up and tried to stand, but Odysseus laid a hand on his shoulder and forced him to remain on the bed.

'Iphigenia's with Agamemnon. They're on their way to Aulis as we speak.'

Eperitus brushed his friend's hand aside and stood. 'Then we must go after them, at once!' he said, urgently looking around the room. Although he still wore his tunic and could see his sandals and cloak nearby, there was no sign of his weapons in the unfamiliar room. 'He's going to murder her, Odysseus you heard him admit it! Surely you're not going to stand by and allow him to go ahead?'

'Agamemnon is the elected leader of all the Greeks,' Odysseus reminded him, gently but firmly. 'He can do as he pleases, whether you and I like it or not. Besides, he left Mycenae at dawn this morning, with Calchas, Talthybius and a bodyguard of twenty warriors, all on horses. It's now reaching sunset, and even if we were able to leave this moment and catch them on our little ponies, what chance would six Ithacans stand against so many? If we weren't ma.s.sacred there and then, we'd be denounced as traitors for opposing Agamemnon's will.'

Eperitus slumped back down on the bed, seemingly crushed by the weight of Odysseus's information. The orange light of the westering sun shone through the small, high window on the lime-plastered walls and Eperitus knew that his daughter would already be a long way from Mycenae far beyond any chance he would have of preventing her doom. Briefly, he wondered whether Clytaemnestra had told Odysseus the truth about Iphigenia, but there was nothing in the king's eyes to show this. Should he tell him now, he thought surely, as a father himself, Odysseus would understand his anguish and help him? But he kept his silence and, shaking his head slowly, looked at his friend with despairing eyes.

'I can't just let her be killed in cold blood,' he said. 'It's monstrous, like something from the old legends.'

Odysseus narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, then sat down beside Eperitus.

'You did everything you could to save her, but it was hopeless from the start. Even if you'd managed to escape, what chance would you have had with every warrior in Greece hunting for you? As it is, you're only alive now because of the efforts of Talthybius, Clytaemnestra and myself. Agamemnon was enraged that you tried to help his wife and daughter to escape; he wanted you killed there and then, and it took all my powers of persuasion to stop him. Clytaemnestra helped, saying she had told you their lives were in danger and they had to flee the city. Only when Talthybius confirmed this did Agamemnon believe you were acting in ignorance to save his family.'

'Then I owe Clytaemnestra and Talthybius my thanks,' Eperitus said. 'But if you hadn't hit me over the head I could still have helped Iphigenia to get away.'

Odysseus laughed ironically. 'If I hadn't knocked you out, you would most certainly have been dead,' he said. Then he reached across and grabbed Eperitus's arm, a fierce look in his eyes. 'Do you think I didn't see what you were about to do? Admit it, Eperitus you wanted to kill Agamemnon, didn't you!'

'Yes!' Eperitus exclaimed, s.n.a.t.c.hing his arm away and turning to face the window. 'Yes, and I'd strike him down now if he were here. Iphigenia has become . . . precious to me in these past few days. Agamemnon doesn't care for her or Clytaemnestra, but I do and they care for me!'

Odysseus stared at his friend for a time, his expression dark and stern. Eventually, he broke the silence that had fallen in the room. 'You wanted war, Eperitus, and as Agamemnon said, war requires sacrifice. When Helen left Sparta, whether by force or of her own free will, she had to give up all but one of her children. How do you think she feels now? And what about Menelaus, who lost everything he lived for in Helen? Achilles has given up a wife and child to go to his doom against Troy, and unless the words of the oracle can be broken, then I'm condemned not to see Penelope or Telemachus for twenty years. It's the same story, one way or another, for every man waiting at Aulis, whether spearman or king. Even Agamemnon, the great King of Men, will be sacrificing his own humanity when he takes Iphigenia's life a fitting price for his ambitions, perhaps. But you should count yourself blessed, Eperitus: at least you have no family to sacrifice to the flames of this war.'

'Blessed, am I?' Eperitus scoffed, pacing the room in his bare feet. 'By all the G.o.ds on Olympus, Odysseus, don't you realize who Iphigenia is? She's my daughter.'

Odysseus opened his mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out. It was the first time Eperitus had ever seen a look of anything like stupidity on the face of his astute, sharp-minded friend, and as Odysseus closed his mouth again and narrowed his eyes in thought Eperitus suddenly felt like laughing.

'But how?' the king asked.

'Clytaemnestra and I became lovers ten years ago, when I was hiding in the Taygetus Mountains. I never knew before we came here that I'd fathered a child how could I? but Clytaemnestra says Iphigenia is mine, and my every instinct tells me it's true. And now, perhaps, you can truly understand why I did what I did.'

'Of course, but . . .'

'There's no but about the matter,' Eperitus snapped, turning to his friend with a sudden look of intense determination on his face. 'Your message is clear, Odysseus the G.o.ds are cruel and demanding, but no man can deny them their due. Have you given up on Penelope and Telemachus so quickly? Well, I'm not prepared to simply lie down and accept that Iphigenia is lost. I won't allow her to slip from my fingers, to be murdered by an insane king at the insistence of an unloving G.o.d; and if you will help me, then I know there's still hope.'

'Think about what you're asking, Eperitus,' Odysseus responded. 'They're a whole day's ride ahead of us, and even if we could catch up with them they outnumber us three to one.'