King of Ithaca (Adventures of Odysseus)

‘Farewell, Odysseus,’ he said. ‘I’ll look for you again after Helen is married. Until then, make sure you choose the right daughter of Lacedaemon to keep the thieves from your house.’

With that he spurred the horse out of the orchard and onto the road, then drove it at a gallop towards the mountains. He knew that his place was at Odysseus’s side, and so he would hide out in the foothills until the time came for the Ithacans to return home.

The news of Eperitus’s escape was greeted with anger amongst the suitors and their retinues, though the Ithacans and a few others were relieved that the cruel sentence had not been carried out. Several mounted soldiers had been sent to hunt for the fugitive, but none had been able to locate him and – against Icarius’s wishes – the search was soon abandoned. The feast that evening was subdued, the atmosphere soured by the events of the day. Eventually, Tyndareus could stand no more of the sombre mood in the great hall, and asked Odysseus to walk with him in the gardens.

‘This may not be the ideal time, Odysseus,’ he said, placing a broad arm about his shoulder and leading him to the very bench the prince had shared with Penelope weeks before, ‘but I need to know your answer to the little matter that remains unresolved between us. My daughter awaits your reply.’

‘Tyndareus, for these past months you’ve been like a father to me,’ Odysseus responded. ‘Indeed, to all of us suitors. You’ve given us the best of your food and drink, provided us with beds and kept us safe under your roof. No host could be kinder, and nothing would please me more than to become your son-in-law.’

His words pleased the king, who had been rather bemused by his daughter’s interest in the Ithacan. He wanted to make her happy, though, and was prepared to break his agreement with Agamemnon for her sake. The king of Mycenae would be disappointed and perhaps angry that Menelaus would no longer be chosen for Helen, especially as the council of war had been such a disaster; but Tyndareus was tired of his power stratagems and wanted an end to the constant – and expensive – feasting.

‘However,’ Odysseus added, ‘the events of last night and today have changed matters. I can no longer marry Helen.’

‘But why?’ Tyndareus said, clearly shocked and offended.

‘It’s my duty to marry Penelope.’

‘You’d turn down the greatest prize in all Greece for . . . for my niece?’

Odysseus shrugged, as if the comparison between the women was of no consequence. ‘She was dishonoured by an Ithacan and I feel responsible for that. That’s why, in fulfilment of your debt to me, I want you to persuade Icarius to let me marry Penelope.’

Tyndareus sighed, resigned to Odysseus’s inexplicable sense of honour. ‘I may hold sway over my brother in many things, Odysseus, but he’s very sensitive about his daughter.’

‘I’ve seen that already, though I’m also told he has little love for her. Perhaps he’ll be glad of a chance to see her married off.’

‘No king has much use for female offspring; they’re more trouble than they’re worth, as I will gladly swear by any god you care to name. But he relies on Penelope far more than he knows, and might think twice when someone asks to marry her. Especially if that person is you, Odysseus. He never liked you.’

‘And today hasn’t improved his opinion,’ Odysseus said, thinking aloud. ‘But nevertheless, you’ll persuade him for me?’

‘I honour my debts,’ the king reassured him. ‘I’ll do what I can.’

Chapter Twenty-three

THE FOOT RACE

The palace gates yawned wide to allow Icarius’s speeding chariot into the courtyard. Its wheels spewed up plumes of dust as they traced great arcs across the enclosure, following the circuit of the walls twice round before the king leaned back on the leather reins and brought the vehicle to a sliding halt. The four horses stood hock-high in a brown mist from the dirt they had ploughed up, stamping and snorting impatiently as their master spoke calming words from the chariot behind them.

Half a dozen attendants rushed out of the stables as Icarius stepped down. Beating the dust from his cloak, he watched three of the men unharness the team of horses and take them away to be fed on corn and white barley. The others dragged the chariot over to the stable and tilted it against the wall with its pole pointing up at the sky, before covering the body of the vehicle with a large tarpaulin.

Grudgingly satisfied with their efforts, Icarius turned on his heel and crossed the courtyard towards the main entrance of the palace. His work had given him an appetite and he was just beginning to look forward to a good meal when Tyndareus appeared, blocking the doorway with his well-fed bulk.

‘Welcome back, brother. Did you find anything?’

‘No. The overnight rain has washed away all hoof-prints, so I assume he has escaped through the mountain passes by now. Though I get a feeling that’s not the last I’ll see of him. But right now I have a voracious appetite to satisfy. Do you want to join me?’