King of Ithaca (Adventures of Odysseus)

Tyndareus returned his gaze in a friendly enough manner, but beside him Agamemnon remained reserved and neutral, allowing nothing of his true self to show in his eyes. His outward appearance suggested a man obsessed with detail: his white tunic was immaculate; his blood-red cloak perfect; his few adornments opulent but not excessive; his auburn hair and beard long but neatly trimmed. Power and majesty resonated from him, and yet in his practised reserve there was a deliberate, well-trained masking of the passions that burned within. Agamemnon was not a man to expose his strengths, weaknesses, thoughts or ambitions to anyone without need. But when he chose to draw away the screen, the man beneath was driven, quick and uncompromising. He had not become the most powerful man in Greece by birthright alone.

For all that, Odysseus instinctively identified something of himself in the king of Mycenae – a leader’s natural insecurity and desire for control. Though he was unsure whether he liked Agamemnon, he sensed a mutual admiration that he hoped would turn to friendship.

On Tyndareus’s right was Icarius, who smiled briefly and without warmth at the new arrival. Next to him sat Diomedes, the Argive prince who had recently destroyed the city of Thebes. Like Agamemnon’s, his hair was long and brown with a hint of red, but unlike the Mycenaean he did not hide his good looks behind a beard, leaving his strong jaw clean-shaven. His clothes were expensive but not showy, unlike most others gathered in the group, and despite his handsome appearance he had an aggressive, hard-bitten mien that Odysseus approved of. A long pink scar stood out on his tanned cheek, running from the top of his ear down across his jawline. He acknowledged Odysseus with a nod before beckoning to a slave for more wine.

‘Aren’t these islands you name in the Ionian Sea?’ asked a short, black-haired man with a pinched nose and small black eyes. ‘Full of rocks and sheep and little else, I’m told.’

Palamedes laughed at his own sally and looked about at the others, laughing at each one in turn until their silence quietened him.

‘Yes, there are rocks and sheep,’ Odysseus answered. ‘Rocks and sheep, sea and fish, flowers and women, homes and families. We left all these things many days ago to witness the glory of Sparta and marvel at its most blessed child. But our journey hasn’t been easy.’

And so he told the kings and princes of the hardships he and his men had faced in reaching Sparta. His voice was calm and smooth, instantly washing over them and stilling their minds. Those that were already talking fell silent and turned their heads towards him, quickly forgetting their own adventures in the boar hunt as the other sounds in the great hall faded and they heard only his words. He spoke passionately of the river, of Mentor and the news from Ithaca, of the burning trees, the battle with the Taphians, the slaying of the serpent, the death of Polybus and the meeting with Iphitus. Only one thing remained unmentioned, but Odysseus was clever enough not to make reference to his patron goddess or the things she had told him. It was enough that these men knew of his country’s plight without him having to plead its cause like a beggar.

His words commanded their silence, though there were occasional grunts of approval or noises of disgust as each event was unfolded before them. At the mention of Laertes’s throne being forcibly taken from him there was even an angry murmur, but when Odysseus had ended his tale at the Taygetus Mountains, looking down over the Eurotas valley, there was no more mention of the subject. Odysseus was not disappointed. He understood that the nobility of Greece were no ordinary audience; when they spoke, lives were changed, and so they knew when to reserve their comments and when to voice them.

‘You impress me, Odysseus,’ Tyndareus said. ‘You’re a worthy suitor, even amongst such men as these. And you have my sympathies for the loss of your father’s throne, which is your birthright.’

More food and wine were brought by the slaves and, with Odysseus’s tale finished, the noise of the feast swept back in on them like a wave. Agamemnon leaned towards Odysseus.

‘You seem like a resourceful man, friend, and not without your share of protection from the immortals. Perhaps we can test your judgement also: will you settle a small debate for us?’

‘If I’m able.’

‘Good. We were discussing the question of continued peace between Greek states.’

‘Peace?’ Odysseus replied, as if the word was new to him. ‘How can there be peace when the Epigoni are making war on Thebes?’

‘The war is over,’ said Diomedes. ‘We defeated them and took their city. Our fathers have been avenged and now there is peace.’