King of Ithaca (Adventures of Odysseus)

‘Gods! You remind me so much of my father – that rigid sense of honour and devotion to duty. But that’s what I want, Eperitus. I’m king now, and I need someone trustworthy to succeed me. Your brothers died fighting at my side like true sons; now you must decide where your loyalties are. If you swear allegiance to me, we’ll make Alybas a city to be proud of. And when I die, you’ll become king in my place. What do you say, son?’

He leaned across the arm of the throne, offering his hand. Eperitus ignored it.

‘Once I loved and respected you. I obeyed your every wish freely and willingly. But now you’ve brought dishonour on our family. I can’t forgive you for that.’

His sense of disbelief had not disarmed his anger, and with a curse on his lips he lunged at his father with the point of his sword. Two of the guards threw their shields before the new king, whilst another knocked the weapon from Eperitus’s hand with a swift stroke of his own blade. Two others leapt on him and pinned his arms behind his back. They dragged him before his father, whose smile had been replaced with an angry scowl.

‘You disappoint me, lad. I should kill you, but I’ve lost enough sons already today. You can have your weapons and that old shield you’re so proud of, but from this point on you have no home, no possessions and no family. You’re an exile, and if you ever set foot in Alybas again I’ll kill you myself.’

Eperitus sat up, gasping for breath and clutching at his blanket. He wiped the sweat from his brow and looked about at the unfamiliar surroundings. A grey light was seeping into the windowless room, revealing the rows of large clay jars along the walls. With a sense of relief he realized he was in one of the storerooms in the palace at Ithaca, where he had been quartered after the Kerosia three nights ago.

As he allowed the emotions of the dream to fall from him and his eyes adjusted to the pre-dawn light, he became aware of sounds from within the palace. The kitchen slaves would be busy lighting fires and cooking breakfast, whilst others would be making preparations for Odysseus’s journey to Sparta.

After Koronos’s public challenge to the prince’s courage, which he had little choice but to accept, there had been another lengthy debate between the elders. One wanted Odysseus to travel light with only two or three companions, but this was quickly dismissed by the other members of the Kerosia. Some valued his life too highly and did not want him to travel to Sparta without a full escort. Others pointed out that he would need to impress King Tyndareus, and to do this a more substantial guard would be required.

They finally reached a compromise. Half of the thirty-strong palace guard would accompany Odysseus, led by Halitherses himself, whilst the remainder would be left under Mentor’s charge. This force would be bolstered by a hastily assembled militia that would be sufficient to defend the palace, until Odysseus returned in the spring.

With that point grudgingly settled the debate focused upon what gift they should offer. It was the height of good manners that a guest should take a present, and it was customary to give something that reflected the suitor’s standing, as well as the degree of respect with which he regarded his host. Therefore, despite Ithaca’s comparative poverty, the Kerosia agreed to send a gift beyond their means. Laertes’s second-finest sword would be sacrificed – a weapon with an ivory handle and pommel, gold inlay on the blade, and a gold-filigreed leather scabbard. Anticleia also offered three of her finest dresses for Helen (there was not enough time to make new garments), along with the finest jewellery that could be plundered from the palace stocks.

Odysseus took a surprisingly small part in the discussions, allowing the elders to decide his fate for him. He appeared to have his mind on something else – Helen perhaps – and only spoke to ensure that his father would be adequately protected whilst he was gone. However, it was at his suggestion that the elders agreed to waste no time, and that the expedition to Sparta should set out before dawn on the third day after the Kerosia. A quick departure, unannounced, would draw minimal attention and catch Eupeithes off balance. The recruitment of the militia would then be completed within a few days, before the rebels could muster their forces and threaten the undermanned palace guard.

By the amount of light that was now suffusing the gloomy interior of the storeroom, Eperitus judged that dawn had already arrived. He picked up his cloak and threw it about his shoulders. As he finished tying on his armour Eumaeus arrived, looking sleepy and dishevelled, to inform him that breakfast was being prepared in the great hall. Eperitus followed him out and joined Odysseus and a handful of his men, who had finished eating and were discussing the arrangements.