King of Ithaca (Adventures of Odysseus)

The courtyard was filled with the nobility of Ithaca, Samos, Dulichium and Zacynthos. An honour guard, commanded by Antiphus, lined the newly whitewashed walls; it was drawn from the survivors of the battle for the palace six days before, many of whom still wore their bandages like badges of pride Beyond the gates, hundreds more people filled the broad terrace hoping for a sight of their king and queen.

A large space had been left clear before the threshold of the great hall, and Eperitus stood between Mentor and Halitherses in the first rank of onlookers. Both men had been severely wounded in the battle and would not fight again: with his hand severed, Mentor would no longer be able to hold a shield, whilst it was a miracle that Halitherses had survived at all. The old warrior had been hit in the foot and the arm and had lost a lot of blood as he lay beneath the palace walls, and it took all the skill of Eurycleia, Odysseus’s childhood nurse, to revive him. When Odysseus and Eperitus visited him two days later he swore never to lift a weapon in anger again, and with tears in his eyes resigned his position as captain of the guard there and then.

Odysseus was saddened, but recognized the will of the gods. That same evening he conferred the captaincy on Eperitus, as a reward for his services and a recognition of their friendship. To the young exile from Alybas it meant the security he longed for – a permanent home among friends, as well as a true sense of purpose and fulfilment. And at last, Eperitus felt he had absolved himself of the disgrace that had been brought upon him by his father. Though he remained the son of a treacherous usurper, by fighting to put a rightful king on his throne he had lessened the shadow on his family’s honour. His grandfather’s ghost would take satisfaction from that.

Eperitus looked about at the throng that filled the courtyard, but recognized only a few of the faces he saw. Mentes was on the opposite side of the cleared space, standing a full head above those around him and attracting much curiosity. Diocles and the surviving Spartans were on either side of him. Like many of the Ithacan guards, their necks were draped with garlands of flowers given to them by appreciative islanders. Eumaeus was there too, leaning on a crutch with his leg bandaged; he had been so badly hurt from the arrow wound that Eurycleia predicted he would carry a limp for as long as he lived.

Standing next to the swineherd, with her arm linked through his elbow, was Ctymene. The young girl’s attractiveness had grown in the time Eperitus had been away, and it was obvious she was fast becoming a woman. But Eperitus, too, had matured: he had seen Helen, the most beautiful woman in Greece, and he had slept with Clytaemnestra, queen of Mycenae. The princess, though disappointed at the indifference that her brother’s handsome friend had shown since his return to Ithaca, quickly tired of flirting with him and diverted her attentions to the many more responsive young men at the celebrations.

In the centre of the clearing, two high-backed chairs faced the entrance to the great hall. These were occupied by Laertes and Anticleia, who held hands and chatted quietly to each other, their words lost in the noise of the crowd. Then the doors of the great hall swung open and the courtyard fell into silence. A moment later, the king and queen stood as Odysseus and Penelope appeared beneath the pillared threshold and walked out into the bright sunshine.

Despite the solemnity of the occasion, Eperitus’s heart swelled with happiness as he watched his friends cross the courtyard to stand before Laertes and Anticleia. The prince was dressed in a fine purple tunic with a white robe about his shoulders, clasped together by a golden brooch. His wife wore a light green chiton with a white sash about the waist, reminding Eperitus of the new growth of spring that was already filling the island. She looked relaxed and confident as she held her husband’s hand, and Eperitus knew she had quickly become enamoured of her new home. When Odysseus was not dealing with the aftermath of the rebellion, he had spent time showing her his beloved Ithaca. Often Eperitus would be invited to join them as they walked its woods, climbed its mountains and explored its coastline. On these occasions he had seen how Penelope had taken to the island, and heard her talking of starting a family that would be safe from the wars and political rivalries of the mainland. She reminded him of Helen then, and made him pity Tyndareus’s daughter, whose looks had condemned her to a life as the trophy of powerful men.