King of Ithaca (Adventures of Odysseus)

They walked into a circle of trees that stood about a wide, dark pool. Water broke from a rock on the far side, gurgling softly in the still night air. As Eperitus watched, the moon emerged from behind a veiling cloud and transformed the clearing with her ghostly light. He found himself in a dreamscape, a place of unmatchable beauty where the simple glade had shed its earthly guise to reveal a heart of magic. The moon’s disc moved in the water, wavering, slowing towards stillness but never quite achieving solid form. The boles of the trees became pillars of silver, as if the men had stepped inside an enchanted hall where the glistening pool took the place of the hearth and the whispering branches formed a roof over their heads. Not without reason was the spring considered sacred: Eperitus almost expected to see a deer leap into the clearing, pursued by Artemis herself, bow in hand.

Then Castor removed his cloak, armour and tunic and quickly lowered himself into the water. He was soon out again, replacing his garments. The others followed, each one flinching from the icy bite of the water, their complaints echoing about the ring of trees.

Slowly Eperitus scooped up handfuls of water and tipped them over his arms, shoulders and chest. The cold was sharp, initially, but as he became used to it he started to feel a new sensation tingling across his skin, like the breath of a god.

‘Don’t stay too long,’ Castor warned. ‘The gods tolerate bathers in the daylight, but the darkness is a time for water nymphs and other supernatural beings. Be quick.’

The water poured off Eperitus as he stepped out. He put his tunic back on and hugged his thick cloak about his body to keep off the chill night air. Yet at the same time he could feel a transformation: the tiredness had lifted and the bruising on his shin where the spear had hit the greave no longer pained him. He felt alive, alert and awake.

As they emerged from the trees they could smell wood smoke and roasting meat. They saw the glow of flames from a plateau further up the hill and scrambled their way up the slope to reach the blaze of several camp fires surrounded by clouds of moths, where groups of pilgrims had laid down their blankets for the night. They avoided looking at the warriors as they walked between their lighted circles, reluctant to attract the attention of the heavily armed men. Eperitus paid the pilgrims no mind either: he was engrossed by the large, pillared edifice ahead of him, built against a sheer face of rock where the mountain rose again from the plateau. A faint red glow came from inside, like a bloody wound cut into the dark of the night, and swirling out of the entrance was a trail of white smoke. They had found the oracle.

‘They won’t let you in now. They never lets you in after dark.’

They turned to see a young man dressed in a coarse black tunic with a fleece draped over his shoulders against the cold. He sat by his own small fire next to a pen full of goats. The animals were subdued by the night and lay pressed against each other for warmth. Occasionally a kid would bleat or the tangled mass of bodies would kick and shift as one of its members repositioned itself. The herdsman pointed up at the temple.

‘Just got a new Pythoness from the village. The ol’ one died, see, and this un’s only been at it a few weeks. Makes the priests a bit protective, it does, an’ they want ’er to get plenty of rest at night.’

‘She’ll speak for me,’ Castor responded. ‘I’ve got business that won’t wait.’

The herdsman smiled sympathetically. ‘You’ll be lucky to get by those priests, m’lord. I’ve seen rich folk, nobles like you lot, offer ’em a gold piece to see her after dark, but the priests just laugh at ’em. Say she’s special, is this’n, and they don’t want to tire her any more’n what they have to. Breathing them fumes all day takes years out of a Pythoness, so it does. The one what died looked old enough to be my grandmother’s mother, though in truth she were only a few years older than what I am. Those fumes rot the flesh as well as the brain, y’know.’

Castor turned and carried on up the slope. It was all the persuasion the others needed to leave the herdsman to his advice.

‘’Ang on,’ the herdsman shouted, springing up from his fire and running after them. ‘If you’re goin’ anyway, you ought to buy one of my goats. You can torture the priests and hold the Pythoness upside down by her ankles, but the goddess won’t speak unless you take her a sacrifice. Ain’t your lordships respecters of the gods?’

Castor grabbed the man by his tunic and pulled him close. ‘Don’t ever question my loyalty to the gods. Now, go and fetch me a one-year-old goat, pure black with no markings.’

‘Get me one, too,’ Eperitus ordered. If Castor could not wait until morning, neither would he.