King of Ithaca (Adventures of Odysseus)

Moments later he was rushing down the steps to the ground floor, pushing the household slaves aside and ignoring their urgent pleas as he ran to arm himself. There was no time to fit breastplate or greaves, so he crammed his bronze cap onto his head and pulled his shield from the wall. One of the newer slaves, whose name he could not remember, followed him in and handed him his sword.

‘What’s going on out there?’ Eperitus demanded.

‘Looks like rebellion, my lord. A group of soldiers set a few of the houses alight to draw the guards from the palace. Now there’s hand-to-hand fighting and the streets are littered with corpses.’

‘You seem to have your wits about you,’ Eperitus said. ‘Find what weapons you can and arm the male slaves, then lead the women up into the hills until the fighting is over.’

‘What about the house?’

‘Don’t worry about the house. Have you seen my father?’

‘No, sir. He could have been in the palace until late, as usual, or perhaps he left as soon as the trouble started.’

Eperitus patted the man’s arm and ran out into the street. A house was burning further up the hill, filling the night air with sparks that spiralled up towards the black clouds above. There was an awful stench of burning flesh and Eperitus could see several lifeless shapes lying in the mud of the street. The sounds of battle continued, but had moved away in the direction of King Pandion’s palace.

Eperitus set off at a sprint, driven by fear for the king’s life. He passed several more corpses and only stopped as he approached the gates. These were guarded by four members of the guard, who lowered their spear points as they recognized him.

‘What’s happening?’ he asked, relieved to see the gates held by the king’s men, but concerned to still hear the sounds of battle within. ‘Is it a rebellion?’

‘Your father has everything under control,’ one of them answered. ‘They’re just finishing off the last of the survivors now. You’ll find him in the great hall.’

Eperitus ran through to the small courtyard beyond, where yet more bodies littered the ground. Even in the reflected glow from the clouds he was able to recognize many of their faces, the light absent from their eyes and their features frozen in the agony of death. Knowing his spear would be awkward in the narrow corridors, he threw it aside and drew his sword as he hurried over the threshold and into the palace.

Torches sputtered in their brackets, casting a dull, pulsing light over the passage that led to Pandion’s throne room. The sounds of fighting had all but disappeared, leaving only the clashing of swords from beyond the doors at the end of the corridor. Eperitus had a sudden feeling that the king was in danger and that only he could save him, but as he prepared to join the fight he was stopped by a sight that drained the energy from his limbs. Lying on the stairs to the women’s quarters were his older brothers. One lay face up, his throat open and dark with blood; the other lay across him, the broken shaft of a spear protruding from his spine.

As he stared at their corpses, feeling empty and emotionless, the clamour from the throne room stopped. Eperitus felt a rush of fury and ran the length of the body-strewn passage determined to avenge his brothers. He shouldered the doors open and stood with his legs apart and his sword and shield at the ready. But he was too late. The king lay slumped across the floor, one hand still clutching a sword whilst the other reached towards the throne. His dead eyes stared accusingly at Eperitus.

Standing over him was a tall figure, wiping the king’s blood from his blade. Eperitus stumbled and lowered his sword.

‘Father?’

A part of him understood what had happened, but the greater part would not accept it.

‘It had to be done, lad,’ his father replied calmly. ‘I would have told you before, but I was afraid you’d give my plans away. You have too much of your grandfather in you – I knew your loyalty would be to the throne. Well, now I am the throne.’

As if to emphasize his point, he stepped over Pandion’s body and sat in the stone chair.

‘What have you done?’ Eperitus asked, only then noticing several members of the palace guard standing on either side of him.

‘Pandion was a fool and a weakling, Eperitus. Under his rule Alybas was becoming a feeble and insignificant city, so some of us,’ he raised his sword point and indicated the surviving guards, ‘decided it was time for a change.’

‘No king is weak who has the full loyalty of his followers,’ Eperitus responded, gripping his sword and taking a step forward.

Instantly the guards formed a circle about his father, who laughed as if drunk.