King of Ithaca (Adventures of Odysseus)

‘A great sea monster – a kraken – has been smashing our ships into kindling and devouring the crews and cargoes whole. Our merchants are afraid to leave port and we Athenians are starting to feel the pinch. The king’s desperate for the wisdom of Gaea to help rid his city of the beast, and so I must speak to the Pythoness. Every wasted day puts more of our ships in peril and starves Athens of much-needed trade.’

As Eperitus listened to Castor’s story he began to wonder further about his friend’s identity. Did he really come from Crete – as he had told him – or was he in truth an envoy from King Menestheus? Surely he could not cheat his way into an audience with the Pythoness on the pretence of being an Athenian, then ask about a voyage from Crete? He glanced at Halitherses and Antiphus, but they avoided his eyes.

‘There were Athenian merchants here only the day before yesterday,’ the priest responded suspiciously. ‘Why didn’t they mention this kraken?’

‘Because they buy goods from the ships of other cities,’ Castor replied. ‘If they came here and put it about that a sea monster was attacking vessels just off the harbour at Piraeus, the rumour would spread and no foreign merchant would dare come to Athens – they’d be out of business within weeks. Didn’t they appear a little nervous?’

At that moment, a husky female voice called out faintly from deep within the temple. ‘Lies within lies!’ it echoed. ‘Don’t let him in! A maze he is, that man, unto others and unto himself. Though not to us. Not to me.’

The voice laughed, a horrible, retching chuckle.

‘Through the fumes we see him clearly,’ it continued. ‘We know him, then, now and tomorrow. Send him away, quickly. Sleep matters more than poor island princes.’

The priest looked angrily at Castor, who stared back even more determined than ever.

‘I’m not some dog who’ll sleep by the footstool of its master, waiting to be woken with a kick,’ he said, gripping the hilt of his sword. ‘In the name of Athena, you will let me in!’

‘Indeed,’ said a voice from behind the warriors. They turned to see another priest, an older man this time with white robes, a purple cloak draped over one arm and carrying a staff the length of a spear. There was something ethereal about him; his long hair and beard appeared to be filled with strands of bright silver and he had big, round eyes like an owl and a nose that ran straight and did not dip at the bridge.

‘Let them in, let them in,’ the old man said authoritatively, striding towards the pilgrims and waving them up the steps.

‘But Elatos,’ the other priest protested, ‘the Pythoness said to send them away.’

‘We may be priests, Thrasios, but it sometimes makes us arrogant and heedless of our duties as human beings.’ The head priest reached the entrance to the temple and Eperitus suddenly noticed how tall he was – a full head and shoulders above everybody else, even Halitherses. He placed a hand on the younger priest’s arm. ‘Now then, you can see these men are nobles; warriors, no less. Take their animals and sacrifice them, as is required, and call on the presence of the gods this sombre night. Unless I’m greatly mistaken, the prince here will not be kept waiting.’

‘That’s right, my lord. I’m Castor, son of Hylax, come from the island of Crete to consult the oracle.’

‘Are you and have you?’ said the priest sceptically. He placed his fists on his hips and spat irreverently on the step. ‘My name is Elatos, and if you wish to speak with the Pythoness you will first give me three copper pieces. As you’ve brought two animals I assume one of your friends also wishes to receive her wisdom? That will be another three copper pieces.’

Eperitus pulled three of the dwindling number of coins from his pouch and handed them cautiously to the man. ‘I seek the will of the gods.’

‘A wise thing to do,’ the head priest replied, taking his payment along with Castor’s and hiding the pieces in a fold of his robe. ‘Once the sacrifice has been made, follow Thrasios through the crack in the rock at the back of the temple. He will lead you to the Pythoness, but stay close to him! A serpent – Gaea’s own son – protects the priestess, and he’s been known to pick off the odd stray pilgrim.

‘Thrasios will also interpret the Pythoness’s ramblings for you. I find his devotion to the gods helps him understand the precise meaning of the priestess’s gibberish. She’s quite unconscious of it herself, of course. Spouts the stuff all day long yet can’t remember a word of it, let alone interpret it.’

At that point Thrasios appeared on the broad top step. He held Castor’s goat under one arm and a sacrificial knife in his free hand.

‘Come through,’ he ordered, impatiently.