King of Ithaca (Adventures of Odysseus)

Odysseus wetted his lips with the wine in his cup and looked about at the wall of faces, bathed orange by the firelight. From what he knew, he said, the Ithacan prince was highly regarded amongst his fellow suitors. He was supposedly a great warrior – the equal of Ajax or Diomedes – who carried a horn bow given to him by the god Apollo. He had already defeated a much larger force of bandits on his way to Sparta (at this, the Taphians muttered energetically with each other), and shortly afterwards had single-handedly saved the goddess Athena from a gigantic, man-eating serpent (at this, Mentor coughed loudly and shot Odysseus a stern glance).

The prince continued undeterred. What was more, Odysseus was reputed to be a man of irresistible charm. Not only had the great Helen of Sparta chosen him for her husband, he had also gained the sympathy and support of the other suitors. It was even rumoured that a combined force of Spartans, Mycenaeans, Argives, Myrmidons and others were gathering from all over Greece, preparing to liberate Ithaca. On hearing this there was a great uproar amongst the Taphians, at which Odysseus stood and held up his hands for silence. He stressed it was nothing more than a bit of hearsay he had picked up from another merchant, which he himself did not believe. However, the truth of the rumour would be easy to prove: if such a gathering really was taking place, then it was also said that a small vanguard of Spartans were to be sent to Ithaca to prepare a camp and scout out the rebels’ defences.

Again the crowd of Taphians erupted. Fear and panic seemed to seize the courtyard as scores of voices were lifted in debate about Odysseus’s return, and whether he was really bringing an army with him. The Ithacans took the opportunity to slip away unnoticed.

‘You’ve got guts,’ Mentor told his friend as they settled down on the soft ground beneath their wagon. His voice was even, but seethed with disciplined anger. ‘And yet I can’t understand why you took such a risk, just to give them a fright. It’ll only put them more on their guard.’

‘Or make them throw down their arms in surrender as soon as our attack begins,’ Antiphus added.

‘They are uneasy,’ said Mentes, who had returned with them. ‘That is understandable, when you live each day wondering whether the true heir to the kingdom will return to take his revenge. But I could have told you that without the need to risk your lives and mine.’

Odysseus covered himself with his cloak and lay down, looking up at the stars and listening to the riotous noise of the Taphians. He caught snatches of arguments, voices raised in drunken dispute. Then he heard female voices, servant girls who had been forced – or came willingly – to entertain the warriors. He instantly thought of his sister, Ctymene, but did not stir as the cold stars sparkled overhead.

‘I didn’t go just to see their fear at the sound of my name. No. I wanted to see the faces of the men who have invaded our homeland. I wanted to know what sort of people they are, how different they are to us, or how similar. I wanted to know who I’ll be killing in the morning. Now get some rest and I’ll wake you before first light.’

It was still dark when he shook them from their sleep. The fire in the middle of the enclosure had died to leave a pile of glowing embers, and the revelry of the Taphians was long since over, leaving only the faint harmony of their snores. Mentor and Antiphus were quickly awake and drawing out their weapons from beneath the matting in the back of the wagon. Last of all, Odysseus woke Mentes.

‘I’ll not ask you to accompany us in what we must do now,’ he said. ‘But you haven’t betrayed us, despite being given every chance, and so I’ll entrust you with one more task. You told us last night there were a number of Spartan prisoners held in one of the storerooms. Release them and wait until the fighting is over. If I’m still alive I will free you from your oath.’

Mentes nodded and, pulling his cloak about his shoulders to keep off the early morning cold, crept off towards the palace. Odysseus turned to Mentor and Antiphus. They stood close by, two black figures with only the dull gleam of their naked swords to distinguish them in the darkness.

‘It’s time,’ he announced. ‘We’ve thought about this moment for over half a year, but now it’s here. It’ll be bloody work, but this is no time for mercy. As you hold your daggers to their swinish throats, think of what they’ve done to your homeland and how long your families have had to endure their yoke. And remember that Ithaca’s freedom depends on us opening those gates.’

He drew his dagger and led them by the faint starlight to where the gates sat slightly ajar. The guards were on the outside, watching the terrace between the walls and the city, unaware of the peril their sleeping comrades were in. The humped shapes of the unprotected men lay all about the Ithacans, motionless as if dead already, each one ignorant of the inglorious fate that awaited him.