The Oracles of Troy (The Adventures of Odysseus)

‘No, you can be sure I’d have woken you first. I wouldn’t want your ghost to slip off to Hades without knowing who it was that took your life.’

‘Ah, that must be the Trojan in you, Son.’

Eperitus spat. ‘I’ve rejected that part of my inheritance, just like my grandfather did when he made Greece his home. It’s a shame you didn’t follow his example.’

‘And become a skulking coward, sneaking into cities hidden inside a wooden horse?’

Eperitus raised an eyebrow.

‘If you knew, why didn’t you burn it when you had the chance?’

‘I didn’t know,’ Apheidas admitted with a shrug. ‘I suspected something was amiss with the horse, but when Cassandra started screaming that there were men inside the idea of it seemed ridiculous. And that was the work of the gods, I’m sure of it. Then, after the celebrations were over, Clymene here woke me to say that Astynome was planning to flee, and when I looked out my window I could see flames in the lower city and hear cries. That was when the truth became clear to me.’

‘Clymene!’ Astynome said, her tone both accusative and dismayed. ‘How could you betray me? I was trying to help you.’

Clymene raised her pained face to look at her friend.

‘I’m sorry, Astynome, but Apheidas is my master and the Greeks are our enemies. When you said we needed to get out of the city before it was too late, I knew it meant they were coming. But I don’t want them to come! They murdered my son in cold blood, and if I can do anything to save Troy from them then I will. And I have.’

‘You silly woman!’ Astynome replied. ‘Troy is doomed, and you’ve thrown away your only hope of escape.’

‘And you think you’re just going to walk out of the city unscathed?’ Apheidas mocked. ‘At least Clymene has shown loyalty, whereas you will die a traitor!’

Eperitus moved Astynome behind him and walked towards the hearth.

‘No-one is going to die except you, Father.’

‘So you think. I overheard you’d sworn to protect Clymene, but merely taking an oath doesn’t mean it’s going to be fulfilled. Let me demonstrate.’

Apheidas turned towards Clymene and with a quick thrust pushed the point of his spear through her chest and out her back. Astynome sprang forward with a cry of protest, but Clymene was already dead, her body toppling back into the hearth. The flames leapt up to welcome her and a blaze of orange light illuminated her laughing murderer.

‘See, Eperitus? There’s one oath you’ll never be able to fulfil. Now, let’s see whether you can keep your other promise – to kill me.’

Apheidas tossed the spear up and caught it with his upturned hand. In the same movement, he pulled it back and hurled it at his son. It split the air with a hiss, passing a finger’s breadth to the right of Eperitus’s neck.

‘Get back, Astynome!’ Eperitus shouted. ‘Get back now!’

He ran at his father and hewed the air where a moment before he had been standing, but the older man had already judged the fall of the weapon and jumped back into the shadows. Drawing his own sword, he leant forward on his front foot and drove the point at his son’s exposed midriff. Eperitus turned and blocked the thrust with his shield, following the movement with an arcing sweep of his blade. Apheidas slipped behind a pillar and the bronze edge drew sparks as it bit into the stone.

Eperitus charged him again and their weapons met, the loud scraping of the blades echoing back from the walls as they bent into each other. They locked eyes, then with a grunt Eperitus pushed his father back into the shadows.

‘You’ve still not got it in you to kill me, Son.’

Eperitus looked at his father’s sneering face and felt a surge of hatred. Then he remembered Astynome’s words and wondered whether she was right, that there was something of Apheidas’s anger in himself. Was he looking at a reflection of what he could become? The thought subdued his fury and he stepped back.

The hiss and pop of the fire was accompanied now by the stench of burning flesh, a smell all too familiar from the many funeral pyres Eperitus had witnessed over the years of the war. He saw his father move to the right, then realised Astynome had ignored his orders and was standing close by. Guessing Apheidas’s intentions, he ran across to protect her, just as his father dashed out of the darkness. The red glint of a blade was followed by a scream. Apheidas reeled away, clutching at the side of his face where the point of his son’s sword had opened the skin. Eperitus instinctively lifted his hand to touch the scar on his forehead, which Apheidas had given him in the temple of Artemis at Lyrnessus several weeks before.

‘Stay back, Astynome! Get out of the house and find somewhere safe to hide until this is over.’

‘I’m staying with you,’ she said, her voice resolute. ‘Haven’t you noticed the clamour outside? The Greeks are already in the citadel, so I’d rather die here with you than be raped and killed out there.’