The Oracles of Troy (The Adventures of Odysseus)

Before Eperitus could reply, Apheidas turned and ran towards a side door, shouldering it open and letting in the pungent smells of cold night air and vegetation. As if to confirm Astynome’s fears, the sounds of screaming and the clash of weapons could be clearly heard in the near distance.

‘Let him go,’ Astynome said, as Apheidas ran into the square garden that was visible beyond the open doorway. ‘He can’t get out of Troy alive.’

‘He can,’ Eperitus answered. ‘He’s too much of a survivor. I have to finish him now, while I have the chance.’

‘Then didn’t my words mean anything to you earlier? Do you want to become like him?’

‘I’ll never let that happen.’

‘Then think of me. If he kills you, he’ll surely kill me too. Even if he doesn’t, I’ll be captured and taken back to Greece as another man’s slave, forced to serve his every need and left to dream of what could have been between us. I want to be your wife and lover, Eperitus, the mother of your children. Is facing up to your father worth losing that?’

Eperitus hesitated, beset by doubt. Had he become so selfish in his pursuit of Apheidas that he was prepared to risk Astynome’s safety? Was he so driven by his hatred of his father that it surpassed his love for her? Yet he had sought revenge for too many years now, and the fear of losing his opportunity quickly overcame the intellectual and emotional arguments that had suddenly emerged against it. He shook his head.

‘I have to face him, Astynome. Forgive me.’

He ran through the doorway into the garden, dark but for the light of a single torch in a bracket on the wall. It took a moment for his senses to adjust to the open surroundings, trying to spot his father in the pillared cloisters that surrounded the courtyard, or among the shrubs and fruit trees that filled it. But the night breeze blowing through the foliage made it impossible to distinguish any other movement, while the rustling of leaves disguised all other sounds, except for the constant hiss emanating from the snake pit at the garden’s centre. Eperitus gave an involuntary shudder and moved forward.

He spotted the glint of a blade from the corner of his eye and whirled to meet it, just as Astynome cried out in warning from the doorway behind. Eperitus stopped the blow with the middle of his sword, but was sent reeling backwards. He caught his heel and fell. With a victorious grin across his face, Apheidas ran out of his hiding place, his sword raised in both hands above his head. Without thinking, Eperitus rocked back and kicked out with all the force he could muster, catching his father in the stomach. He fell, crushing some of the low shrubs that lined the path that led to the snake pit. Eperitus was up in an instant, but Apheidas was already on his feet and raising his shield to counter the sweep of his son’s sword. A series of blows were exchanged, each one delivered with deadly accuracy and blocked with instinctive skill, until eventually the two men reached the gaping pit and stood back from each other, sweat-covered and breathing heavily.

‘Neither of us can win, lad,’ Apheidas gasped. ‘Why don’t you give this up and let me take my chances out there in the streets? You can try to deny the blood that’s in your veins, but I’m still your father and it’s an offence against the gods for you to try and kill me.’

‘You are an offence against the gods,’ Eperitus replied. ‘If I let you go, you’ll only blight the lives of others, usurping power and murdering innocent people like Arceisius and Clymene. By killing you, I’ll be honouring the gods.’

He rushed forward again, catching Apheidas off guard and knocking his sword from his hand so that it skittered across the paved edge of the pit. Apheidas lifted his shield in desperation, blocking the thrust that would have skewered his groin and deflecting it into his thigh. He shouted with pain, but as Eperitus raised his sword for the killing blow, Apheidas found the strength to lash out with the rim of his shield and catch him on the side of the head, sending him spinning backwards onto the flagstones.

Eperitus fought the blackness that threatened to consume him, calling on his hatred to push himself back up from the floor and find his feet. His head was dull with pain and as he touched the side of his face he could feel the blood where the lip of Apheidas’s shield had gashed the skin. Then his vision cleared and he saw his father standing at the edge of the snake pit with Astynome held before him. A burning torch lay on the ground, which she must have taken from the bracket by the door.

‘I seem to remember we’ve been in this position before,’ Apheidas mocked.

Eperitus recalled the temple of Thymbrean Apollo, when his father had used Astynome as a hostage to ensure his escape, knowing Eperitus would not risk seeing her hurt.

‘He’s unarmed,’ Astynome shouted.

Apheidas clapped his hand over her mouth.

‘I don’t need a weapon. One twist of my arm and her neck will break. Do you understand?’