King of Ithaca (Adventures of Odysseus)

Odysseus looked at the scar-faced warrior, who had a clear sense of honour to his father and showed a warrior’s pride in his achievements. ‘It’s a privilege to meet the son of Tydeus, whose fame threatens that of his own sire. And I thank you for making my point for me. Have you asked yourselves when this cycle will stop? Won’t the next generation of Thebans want revenge for their dead fathers? Doesn’t each of us have family feuds that began before the times of our grandfathers? I’ve heard that even Agamemnon and Menelaus seek the death of Aegisthus for murdering their father. This is the barrier to peace amongst our states. We’re so busy avenging the transgressions caused against our forefathers that we’ll never be able to live side by side ourselves. Greece is held back by the grudges of its warrior families.’

‘What did I tell you?’ boomed Tyndareus, triumphantly. ‘Hey, Agamemnon? And you, Diomedes, echoing all this talk of unity across Greece. It’s a nonsense, and you know it.’

‘I didn’t say it was nonsense, my lord,’ Odysseus added carefully, taking a krater of wine from a passing slave. ‘Warriors have always fought whomever they chose, and our fathers made their fortunes and their names by the spear and the sword. Yet the times are changing. Trade flourishes throughout Greece and across the seas to other nations, and it seems to me that the era of military expansion is being replaced by a time of consolidation. Our enemies are now our neighbours, whether we like it or not.’

‘So will there be peace, even with the feuding?’ asked Menelaus. He was a young, well-built man with red-brown hair, thinning on top, and a black beard. His pale face was authoritative but kind, and yet his brow was furrowed as he addressed Odysseus. ‘I for one will never forgive my cousin for killing my father, even if my brother could countenance it. It dishonours my family and it dishonours me.’

‘That’s a question for yourself, Menelaus,’ Odysseus answered. ‘But for me, I think there is one thing that could bring the Greeks together.’

Agamemnon folded his hands in his lap and retreated behind his neutral, unimpassioned look. ‘What’s that?’

Odysseus did not answer immediately, but picked up a slice of boar from the platter in front of him and crammed it into his mouth. He chewed it and washed it down with wine before looking into the cold blue eyes of Agamemnon.

‘A mutual enemy will unite Greece. We share a common tongue and follow the same gods as each other, so what Greece needs is an outsider who doesn’t. Any gibberish-talking foreigner who gives us a reason to fight would suffice. That and an oath between kings, the most sacred and binding oath ever taken.’

The Spartan wine was strong and had already worked its way to Eperitus’s head. All around him his companions were adding their own noise to the general cacophony as the wine oiled their tongues. Hard-worked slaves brought them a constant supply of meat and drink, and with much-tested patience did little more than grin or nod apathetically at the drunken suggestions and comments that were offered them. The women in particular had grown used to the lewd attentions of the hundreds of men in the palace; they smiled and flirted their way free of their embraces and like a mountain breeze were heading back to the kitchens, larders or wine cellars before the soldiers knew it.

They were soon engaged by the group of warriors next to them, who came from Lindos on the island of Rhodes. They were fascinated with the tales of the Ithacans’ adventures, and sympathetic to the point of anger when they told them their king had been overthrown in their absence. It was an outrage to them that Ithaca, a place they had never heard of before, should be ruled by foreign invaders. Being islanders themselves, they understood what it was like to have a border set by the sea, where the sense of belonging to a homeland was so much stronger. From that point on they adopted the exiled Ithacans as their own, and both parties sought each other every night in the great hall throughout the months they remained in Sparta.

The Rhodians had been amongst the very first to arrive and had already been in the city for several days. Their second-in-command was a brash, fierce-looking man called Gyrtias, who quickly became good friends with Halitherses due to the rank they shared.

‘There he is,’ he announced to Halitherses, though loudly enough for all of the Ithacans to hear. He pointed a thick arm that was stiff with muscles at a slight figure seated behind the higher nobles. ‘Prince Tlepolemos of Rhodes. A more handsome and worthier Greek has not yet been born. That is the man who will marry Helen.’

Eperitus looked and saw a baby-faced youth who was struggling to grow a beard and had not yet developed any muscles to speak of. He simpered at the back of the group with his pale brown locks falling in front of his eyes, and Eperitus could only wonder at how out of place the young prince looked amongst such proud men.