King of Ithaca (Adventures of Odysseus)

The sight of armed men was not uncommon in Greek townships. However, the wounds the newcomers bore showed they had been in a recent fight, and the locals eyed them with suspicion and hostility. Nobody spoke to them, and if they approached them they would either turn away or tell them they could not help. Despite this they eventually found their way to an inn, where the patron was happy to sell them food and wine, and for an additional price provided them with a large room with straw mattresses for all. They gave the mules into the care of the innkeeper’s son, then returned to the main room of the house.

In the late afternoon the inn was empty but for themselves and a few old men, left there by their families to sup wine and keep warm by the large hearth in the centre of the room. It was a low-ceilinged place lit only by the fire and the last of the afternoon light slanting in through the open doorway. Noisily, the Ithacans crowded onto the benches and began discarding their armour and weaponry like snakes shedding skin, leaving great flakes of leather, ox-hide and bronze about the floor. The old men broke off from their story-swapping and watched the newcomers with silent interest, perhaps recalling the days when their own bodies were filled with enough youthful strength to carry breastplate, spear and shield.

By the time they had settled down a huge woman brought in two earthenware bowls filled with cold water, followed by the innkeeper with two more. Moments later, as they were cleansing their hands and faces of the day’s dirt, the couple returned carrying a large krater of wine between them which had already been mixed with two parts of water. The soldiers wiped their hands dry on their tunics and filled wooden bowls with the wine, drinking deeply to slake their thirst whilst baskets of bread were passed. These were followed by plates of tough goat’s meat and dishes filled with salad and pulse. There were large numbers of tasteless barley cakes too, the likes of which had formed the mainstay of their rations on the journey to Messene.

There was no ceremony about the meal and they did not hold back in satisfying the hunger that days of marching, fighting and hard rations had inspired in them. There was very little conversation as they filled their ravenous stomachs, until finally they were using the last wafers of bread to wipe up the grease and fat from the plates. Then Mentor demanded more wine and the talk began to flow as their tongues were loosened.

At first they were polite to Iphitus, asking general questions about his home and his family. But the subject was turning with slow certainty to Heracles. They had all of them heard the youth tell Odysseus he was hunting horses allegedly taken by the most famous warrior in Greece, and there had been an undercurrent of excitement ever since the name of Heracles had been mentioned. Eperitus had already heard endless tales of his unmatchable strength, his prowess in battle and his seemingly endless sexual conquests. Some said he had diverted rivers with his own hands, others that he had slept with fifty maidens in one night, and all that he had killed a gigantic lion with his bare hands. These tales made the man a living legend, though until Iphitus’s brief mention of him the warrior from Alybas had no idea he was still alive. His nurse had told him stories about Heracles when he was a mere infant, so to him he was a figure more from myth than reality, a man from a past age who could hardly belong in their own fallen era.

But live he did, or so Iphitus testified. Neither did he need their encouragement to tell them the full story of Heracles’s visit to his home in Oechalia. The wine encouraged openness to their questions and soon the words were tumbling from his lips, which the Ithacans drank up like cattle at a trough. Even Odysseus leaned in over his cup to hear what their new companion had to say, though Eperitus noticed that his eyes continuously strayed to the bow leaning against the wall.

Long ago, Iphitus’s father Eurytus, king of Oechalia and a renowned archer, had offered his daughter in marriage to any man who could outshoot him. As Apollo himself had tutored Eurytus in archery he had every right to be confident of his marksmanship and was justly proud of his skill with the bow. Indeed his reputation was so widespread that few had bothered to take the challenge and his beautiful daughter, Iole, was in danger of becoming a spinster.

At that time Heracles was the king’s friend. Eurytus had taught him to shoot when he was young, and their bond of friendship had remained. But Zeus’s wife, the goddess Hera, bore a grudge against Heracles and induced a madness in him that caused him to slay his own children. When he regained his sanity he rejected his wife Megara and, upon the instruction of the Pythoness, served penance as a slave to King Eurystheus of Tiryns.