King of Ithaca (Adventures of Odysseus)

Eperitus had never before seen anyone as tall or as broad as he was. He stood head and shoulders above everybody else in the room and looked about himself with long, slow sweeps of his head, shrivelling people with fear as his eyes fell upon each of them in turn. That he was a handsome man who wore a smile behind his black beard was no comfort, for his looks were hard and the smile was a mocking one, completely without fear. It came from an overwhelming confidence in his own prowess – a knowledge that nobody in the room could match him: few of them reached higher than his chest, and even Odysseus’s massive build was dwarfed by the titanic muscles on the man. Although he carried no weapons and wore no armour, everybody felt vulnerable before him.

‘I am Ajax, son of Telamon,’ he boomed. ‘I have come to marry Helen of Sparta and take her back with me to my kingdom of Salamis. When I want something I get it and not even the gods can stop me, so the rest of you fools may as well go home. Now, which of you is Tyndareus?’

‘I am,’ Tyndareus admitted, cautiously. Despite his own fierce looks, the king was clearly nervous in the presence of the bearded giant who had burst into the heart of his palace like a thunderbolt. ‘Welcome, Ajax. We have been awaiting your arrival for some time.’

‘We expected you to wait,’ said the short man, stepping in front of his companions. All three men carried the dust of the road on their clothes but, unlike the other suitors, there was no sign of an escort or retinue with them. ‘I am Ajax of Locris, son of Oileus.’

‘As nasty a brute as you’ll ever meet,’ Diomedes confided to Eperitus in a whisper, all his previous hostility forgotten. ‘They call him Little Ajax to distinguish him from his colossal friend, though some call him Ai for short.’

Ai was an exclamation of woe, and looking at the man Eperitus could guess why he had been given the nickname. He stared about at the watching crowd with insolence in his dark, closely set eyes, and though he was hardly much older than Eperitus his look of fearless arrogance warned of trouble to come. His features matched his fearsome manner: a single eyebrow ran in an unbroken line across his forehead, his nose was squashed flat from fighting and his thick black beard could not hide the scars on his disease-ravaged cheeks.

‘This is Teucer, youngest son of Telamon and half-brother of my namesake,’ he continued, pointing at the third member of the party, who fidgeted nervously and lifted his head as if sniffing the air, then looked back down at his feet so as not to meet the eyes of the onlookers. ‘We’ve come to support Ajax’s claim to the princess Helen.’

‘Then step forward, all of you, and refresh yourselves after your travels.’ Tyndareus walked down to meet them, while a flurry of slaves brought food, wine and chairs to the dais for the latest of Helen’s suitors. But the men remained where they stood.

‘Where is Helen?’ demanded the greater of the Ajaxes.

‘Sleeping,’ Tyndareus answered. ‘There will be time to see her tomorrow, but for now you should eat and drink and tell us the tale of your journey here.’

But Ajax was impatient, as if he expected the girl to marry him before the night was out. ‘Then wake her. Should I be kept waiting for the sake of a woman’s sleep?’

‘Her beauty will not diminish overnight, Ajax,’ Agamemnon said, leaving the crowd to join the newcomers. ‘Take your seats and join the feast.’

Little Ajax’s snake flicked out its tongue and hissed as he approached, but the king of Mycenae had a commanding presence that seemed to silence even the irrepressible Ajax. The three men allowed him to shepherd them to the places set out by the slaves.

But if Agamemnon was pleased to receive the latest suitor, happy that his planned council of war could now go ahead, there were others among the noble guests who were not so pleased at the giant’s words or the insolent presence of his lesser namesake. Palamedes and King Menestheus stood as the trio stepped up to the dais and walked to the opposite side. Patroclus, who sat on a chair at the foot of the dais, also stood and walked away. Seeing this, Little Ajax draped his pet snake over the twitching Teucer and followed the Myrmidon.

‘You!’ he said.

Patroclus turned and sneered down at the Locrian prince, who now stood threateningly before him.

‘You’ve no royal blood in you. Who are you and what are you doing here?’

Patroclus wrinkled his pinched nose at the stench of the man’s breath. ‘My name is Patroclus, representative of Achilles.’

‘Achilles?’ Little Ajax scoffed. ‘Do you hear that, lads? He says he’s here to represent Achilles! But everybody knows Achilles is just a boy. He is just a boy isn’t he?’

‘Yes, of course,’ Patroclus replied, testily.

They were the two most disliked, arrogant and mean-looking men in all of Sparta, and it surprised nobody to see them already at loggerheads.