King of Ithaca (Adventures of Odysseus)

The herdsman returned with an animal under each arm. The beast he gave to Castor was as black as night and wriggled like a hydra. Eperitus’s was brown and white and had hardly managed to rouse itself from sleep. They threw them over their shoulders and held them by their cloven hoofs.

‘Tha’s one silver piece for blackie, and six coppers for the other, sirs.’

‘We’ll give you five copper pieces for them both,’ Eperitus corrected, disgusted at the man’s audacity.

The herdsman turned to him with a broad smile on his dirty face. ‘That black un’s my best animal. If your lord wants . . .’

‘Here,’ said Castor, impatient to get on. He handed the goat herder two silver pieces and started towards the temple.

‘You should learn the good grace of yer master,’ the trader told Eperitus, before turning to walk back down the slope. Eperitus gave him a swift kick to the buttocks to speed him on his way, which provoked a stream of insults hurled towards his departing back.

As they rejoined Castor and the others a great belch of smoke swirled out of the temple door and coiled into the night air. For the first time Eperitus consciously recognized the faint stench that had been growing since they left the pool. He turned to Antiphus, who wrinkled his large nose in response. It smelled of rotten eggs, the nauseating, throat-drying stink that poets associate with Hades itself. Suddenly Eperitus wished he had waited until morning.

‘Perhaps she’s asleep like the herdsman said,’ Antiphus suggested, uncertainly. ‘Wouldn’t those other pilgrims be here otherwise? Let’s come back tomorrow.’

‘Go back if you want,’ Castor replied, holding the struggling goat tighter about his shoulders and looking up at the steps to the temple. ‘You can all wait until morning if you’re afraid. But I’m going in now.’

After a brief pause, the others followed him up to the mouth of the oracle.

Chapter Three

PYTHON

They approached the dark portico that led to the most famous oracle in all Greece. Its rough grey pillars glowed red with the light of whatever burned within and the stench of sulphur was nauseating. A man appeared at the entrance and walked quickly down to bar the way. He was dressed all in black and carried a long staff.

‘The Pythoness sleeps. Now leave before I put a curse on you all.’

‘Don’t be so hasty,’ Castor said, stepping up to the holy man and fixing him with narrowed eyes. ‘How much will it cost to wake her up?’

‘Your money won’t make any difference here,’ the priest answered, his gaze shifting uncertainly under the scrutiny of the fierce-looking warrior. ‘Whole cities send tribute to the oracle, so your pitiful . . .’

‘Then you leave me no choice but to wake her myself! Stand aside.’

It shocked Eperitus that his new friend dared talk in such a way to a member of the most powerful priesthood in Greece. It surprised the cleric too, who for a moment looked as if he would merely slip away into the shadows. But his arrogant manner soon got the better of him, used as he was to bullying pilgrims from every station in Greek life. In an instant he jerked his rakish arms into the air and in a quivering moan began to invoke the goddess Gaea.

Eperitus squirmed nervously as his chants filled the air about them. He feared the goddess would take her supernatural revenge on them at any moment, angry they had offended one of her earthly representatives. But Castor was not so easily intimidated and simply walked around the man.

The others followed, only for the priest to bound up the steps and throw himself in front of them again, his arms extended and his voice raised to Gaea. His outstretched palms halted the intruders in their tracks and Eperitus, for one, was filled with terror by his wailing. Though he would happily fight any number of armed men, who was he to stand up to a goddess?

‘We’ll have to turn back, Castor,’ he said. ‘Unless you want to bring the wrath of the gods down on us.’

‘Athena will protect me, even from Gaea,’ he answered, calmly stroking the nose of the goat about his shoulders and looking up at the priest. ‘Antiphus! Take this animal, will you.’

The priest’s chants were growing louder and more urgent as he saw the armed pilgrims were not retreating. Already he had called down fire from the heavens, cursed them with sudden blindness and invoked several diseases. He was condemning their future wives to barrenness when Castor held up a hand and began to talk through the cacophony.

‘Your incantations don’t work, so save your breath and let me speak. King Menestheus of Athens has sent me to consult the oracle. And in return for an answer to his question he promises three bronze tripods and cauldrons to match, as well as twenty talents of silver.’

The wailing stopped and the priest came down a few cautious steps. ‘What’s the question?’