King of Ithaca (Adventures of Odysseus)

‘I’m sorry, my lord, but I have orders to permit entrance only to those who have been invited by the king. As I’ve never heard of Ithaca or any of its princes or kings, you’d better turn about and return the way you came.’

When Eperitus heard his words and thought of the hardships they had endured to arrive at these gates, only to be rejected like a pack of mere beggars, he felt the fighting rage come rushing into his veins. By the murmurs of his comrades he could tell they were angered too. One nod from Odysseus and they would happily have killed the guard and stormed the palace gates. But the prince was more patient than his men, and showed no sign of anger as he walked up to the Spartan.

‘I’ve travelled for many days to come here, have fought two battles and lost three men. If you don’t wish to earn your master’s wrath, then I suggest you ask him to come here so he can tell me himself to leave. As I told you, I’ve come to see the daughter of Tyndareus, and see her I will.’

‘Then you’ve found her,’ said a voice from behind them. They turned to see a tall woman dressed all in black, escorted by four slave girls and two guards. She was tall, handsome and elegant, and had a commanding femininity about her, but Eperitus could not help but feel disappointed. He sensed the same reaction from Odysseus, whose eyes lingered briefly on the woman’s harsh and reproving mouth and the ears that stuck out like the handles on an amphora.

Recovering from his surprise, the prince stepped up to her and bowed. ‘Your reputation does not do you justice, Helen of Sparta.’

She arched an eyebrow. ‘And your reputation does not exist, Odysseus of Ithaca. But let’s not get muddled about identities. For one thing, I am Clytaemnestra, daughter of Tyndareus and wife of Agamemnon. Helen – my sister – is within the palace, so if you’re here to join the general rabble you’d better follow me.’

At her command the massive gates were swung inward by invisible hands to reveal a spacious yet crowded courtyard within. They followed Clytaemnestra into the compound, which was surrounded by the magnificent stonework, high walls and countless windows and doorways of the palace. There were stables filled with scores of splendid horses, a dozen or more ornate chariots propped up against the palace walls, a host of richly armoured guards, and countless slaves rushing to and fro on untold errands. They had entered a city within a city, a place that teemed with people and yet was perfectly ordered.

‘Things are usually busier,’ Clytaemnestra commented. ‘Especially since the other suitors have been arriving. But today the mighty warriors are all out hunting boar. Things have been getting a little . . . shall we say strained? . . . in the palace of late, with all those former enemies living together under one roof. I’m sure that, as men, you’ll understand. So Tyndareus has taken them out into the hills for the day.’

She turned about and placed her hands on her hips, staring at them one after the other and assessing the state of their shabby clothes and battered armaments.

‘I apologize for the guard,’ she said, a hint of genuine kindness entering her voice for a brief moment. ‘He probably thought you were brigands. He does have orders to keep out the more general riff-raff, but he isn’t very bright in distinguishing between a commoner and a well-travelled nobleman. But the invitation was a general one and, if you truly are a prince, Odysseus of Ithaca, then you are welcome here. I’m also sorry you have to endure the welcome of a mere woman in my father’s absence, but you can rest assured that both he and my husband will want an audience with you this evening. There’ll be a banquet, of course, to feast on the boars they kill today, and you will all be guests of honour. But until then I’ll do what I can to see you are well housed.

‘The chief steward will take your guest-gifts, or you can wait to give them to Tyndareus in person if you prefer. Most do, though it makes little difference to him. He has so many swords, spears, daggers, tripods and the like that he doesn’t know what to do with them any more. And nobody ever brings anything for Helen herself, poor sister. I suppose you’re the same?’

‘I regret to say we haven’t brought any gifts at all,’ Odysseus answered, his tone even and pleasant.

‘Not even for the king?’ Clytaemnestra asked, momentarily shocked. Then her growing look of impertinent boredom was swept away and she stared at Odysseus with a new-found interest. ‘Well, that’s certainly different. What strange customs you must have in your part of Greece.’

Odysseus shrugged complacently. ‘We had many adventures on our journey here and, regrettably, our gifts were lost on the way. So we come empty-handed in the hope that your father will accept, in place of gifts, our services and lasting friendship.’