King of Ithaca (Adventures of Odysseus)

Despite the early casualties, Polybus had kept the balance of his fifteen or so archers on his own side of the ambush, as Odysseus had pointed out. This made the threat from behind less effective, and all the time the Ithacans were moving out of the effective range of the smaller group of archers. Also, by holding their oversized shields before them they made the shots of the men on the slopes above ineffective, and were able to steadily close the distance on them. And yet the hill was steep and their careful approach, with shields held out as they scrambled around boulders and over loose rocks, allowed the Taphians to pull back before them and tighten their ranks.

‘Eperitus!’ Antiphus called over to him. ‘Stay here and protect me with your shield while I take some shots at them. I’m sick of not being able to fire back.’

Eperitus ran across and fixed the point at the bottom of his shield into the dust. It was tall and broad enough to provide cover for both himself and Antiphus, who slipped his bow and quiver from his shoulders and knelt down. Having no natural skill with the weapon, Eperitus watched with impressed satisfaction as his companion flipped the lid off the quiver, laid a handful of arrows down in his upturned shield and fitted one to the string. He stretched it back with his left hand, resting the shaft on the knuckles of his right hand where his index and forefinger had been severed by Polybus, then steadied his breathing and took aim.

Eperitus peered around the other side of the shield. The Ithacans were clambering more slowly up the hillside now, but still maintained the even dispersal of their line. Odysseus was at their centre, undeterred that he was the target of most of the Taphian archers. It was he who kept the advance steady, ensuring with booming commands (which Halitherses reinforced) that no warrior outstripped his comrades. He controlled them like a man reining in a chariot team, keeping each horse in check until the final burst of speed is required.

Then Antiphus’s bowstring twanged loud in Eperitus’s ear and he saw one of the tall archers flail backwards, caught in the eye. With amazing speed, Antiphus fitted a second missile, took a moment to aim, then let it fly towards a second Taphian, who folded as the point pierced his stomach. Moments later, a third man was hit in the shoulder, and at this the enemy gave up their bows and withdrew behind the safety of their shields. Eperitus saw Polybus then, moving between his bewildered men and marshalling them into a line to meet Odysseus’s advance. Either through stupidity or a complete lack of fear, he walked with his shield slung over his shoulder, unconscious or dismissive of the danger from the slopes below.

Seeing the opportunity, Eperitus touched Antiphus’s shoulder and pointed at the easy target. ‘Revenge for losing your fingers?’

Antiphus saw Polybus, who he could easily have slain, but shook his head. ‘His life isn’t mine to take. Odysseus wants him. I have a different revenge in mind.’

As he spoke an arrow passed between them and tore a channel of flesh from his left shoulder. He cried out in pain and surprise, and clapped a hand to the wound. Together they turned to see that the Taphians from the hillside behind them had left their positions and were closing on their rear, threatening to cut off their retreat and trap them. Eperitus looked up at Odysseus, but he and his guards had restarted their advance on the now fixed line of mercenaries before them, ignorant of the new danger. He shouted to Mentor, who was nearest, and pointed to the ten or so enemy warriors below.

More arrows fell around them and Antiphus called for Eperi-tus’s shield again. He swung it about to face the archery from below and immediately caught two of the lethal shafts in its thick hide, where they joined the earlier shot that was still buried there. Antiphus moved around behind his companion and knelt down to his right. He drew back the string, despite the pain in his shoulder, steadied his breathing and took aim. This time, though, the arrow went wide and bounced off a rock, provoking jeers from its intended target.

Antiphus cursed and, almost in the same breath, called on the help of the gods. He did not miss again. His next arrow pierced the cheek of one of the attackers, whipping his head to one side and sending him rolling back down the hill. His comrades stooped and found what cover there was amongst the boulders, propping their shields before them. But they were not quick enough. Antiphus’s next arrow went straight through a man’s thigh, sending him stumbling back down the slope, shouting with pain. A further arrow finished him, piercing his exposed back and dropping him face-first amongst the rocks.

Mentor hurried down the slope to join them, bringing two others who had received light arrow wounds.

‘Can you keep them off our backs?’ Mentor asked.