The Oracles of Troy (The Adventures of Odysseus)

Astynome’s black hair was tied up behind her head and even in the faint light from the hearth Eperitus was able to recognise the familiar features of the face he loved so much. Slipping his sword back into its sheath, he moved forward and welcomed her into his arms. She brushed her cheek against his, then sank her head upon his shoulder, as if weary from their time apart. He raised a hand to her nape and pushed his fingertips into her hairline, enjoying the warmth of her skin and the softness of her hair. There was a clean, fresh aroma about her that sent his mind back to the times they had shared a bed, long before any darkness had come between them.

She looked up at him with her large, brown eyes, and he responded by pressing his lips to hers.

‘I expected to have to find you and wake you,’ he said.

‘I knew you were coming,’ she replied, indicating the cloak she was wearing. ‘The night you stole the Palladium, Odysseus told me that if a wooden horse entered Troy the war would end and I would be reunited with you. I didn’t understand at the time, and even less so when I saw that wheeled monster being dragged towards the city – I think the gods confounded us all so we wouldn’t guess its true purpose – but when Cassandra spoke I realised there were men hidden inside the horse. And I knew you were one of them.’

‘We’d all be dead if you hadn’t spoken up against her.’

She shrugged. ‘Well, here you are. What happens now?’

‘The army should have sailed into the bay under cover of darkness. Even as we speak the Scaean Gate is being opened to let them in. It’s the end of the war, Astynome, and the end of Troy. Agamemnon won’t suffer anything of the city to remain, or its people.’

‘It was inevitable,’ Astynome said, shaking her head. ‘Troy could not stand forever, not against the will of Zeus. And yet I wish it didn’t have to end like this, with such ignominy – a great city murdered in its sleep.’

‘There was no other way, but at least it means we can be together again. That’s why I’m here – to keep you safe until it’s all over, then take you back with me to Ithaca. If you still want to come?’

Astynome smiled. ‘Of course I do. My life’s nothing without you, Eperitus. But you’re not just here for me, are you.’

‘I gave Palamedes my word I would keep Clymene safe if Troy was ever sacked.’

‘I mean Apheidas.’

Eperitus held her face and tenderly brushed her cheeks with his thumbs.

‘I can’t leave without avenging his crimes.’

‘Honour and vengeance! The two things that have kept men killing each other since the creation of the world.’

‘You forget love.’

‘At least love can also stay a man’s hand!’ Astynome retorted. Then her eyes softened again and she glanced down at his armoured chest. ‘Clymene’s already in her room waiting – I told her to be ready to flee the city – but must you risk everything to face Apheidas? I know when you were his prisoner I said I would help you take your revenge, but now I’m not so certain. Does killing a man really solve anything? Will murdering your own father right the wrongs he has committed? It seems to me the best way to defeat Apheidas is to be everything he is not, to be loving where he is hateful, to be selfless where he is ambitious. And that’s the kind of man you are, Eperitus – it’s why I fell in love with you. But if you seek him out and avenge his crimes in blood, you’re taking the path he would take. Instead of defeating him, you’ll become him. If you want to be free of his shadow, then leave him to his fate and walk away from this place.’

Her words were sacrilege to a warrior, whose code demanded that the merest slight had to be avenged in blood. And yet they held a challenge he could not ignore. Did he want to kill his father and inherit his legacy of hatred? Or could he turn away, even now when revenge was finally within his grasp, and take a different path?

‘A woman wouldn’t understand,’ said another voice from the shadows on the opposite side of the hall. ‘A man who runs from his responsibilities is only half a man, doomed to live life with his head hung low and his spirit in shadow. Isn’t that so, Son?’

Eperitus spun round to see a man and a woman step into the circle of firelight. The tall figure of his father was unmistakable. He carried a spear in one hand and a shield in the other, and the red glow from the embers played menacingly on his scaled cuirass. It took a moment longer to recognise the woman as Clymene, her shoulders stooped and her chin on her chest. Eperitus slipped his grandfather’s shield from his back and took its weight on his left arm, while slowly drawing his sword from its sheath. It seemed his decision had been made for him.

‘Father,’ he said. ‘At least you’ve saved me the trouble of looking for you.’

‘And I thought Astynome might have talked you into running away. But what were you planning, Son? A knife in my sleep? That seems to be the Greek way of doing things.’