The Oracles of Troy (The Adventures of Odysseus)

Food was being served as he joined the Council, allowing him to slip in unnoticed and take his place next to Odysseus. A slave brought him a krater of wine and a plate of roast meat, fresh from the sacrifices the kings had made earlier that morning to thank the gods for their great victory. He had passed the place of slaughter on his way up from the ships: a dozen gore-drenched altars built of stones from the walls of Troy, the ground around them soaked dark with the blood of the hundreds of beasts that had been slain. Large numbers of men were still busy cutting up the carcasses, roasting the different parts of the animals, tending the fires and doling out the meat onto platters. The stench of the blood and the hammering of cleavers had reminded Eperitus of battle.

‘Where were you?’ Odysseus asked, leaning towards Eperitus as he folded a slice of meat in a piece of bread and prepared to put it in his mouth. ‘The Council’s nearly finished.’

‘Already? I thought it’d take all day.’

‘No. Everyone’s in a hurry to get on with things and go home. Can’t you sense it? There isn’t a man here who doesn’t want to finish the business of tearing down the walls, distributing the plunder and setting off.’

Eperitus put the food in his mouth and looked about at the battle-worn kings, princes and captains of the army, eating, drinking and talking among themselves as they waited for the debate to resume. This was probably the last time he would see any of them, he realised, now that the great expedition that had brought them together was finally over. Agamemnon, as ever, sat at the head of the circle. Eperitus eyed him coldly: the feelings of hatred he had stifled for so long were now gaining strength again, and the thought he would sail off to continue his life at Mycenae was galling. With difficulty, he pulled his gaze away and turned it to the other members of the Council. Nestor and Menelaus were on either side of the King of Men, while a pair of Mycenaean soldiers stood guard over the three of them, dressed in their impressive but outdated ceremonial armour. All the other great names were there, too: Diomedes, flanked by his faithful companions, Sthenelaus and Euryalus; Neoptolemus, wearing his father’s splendid armour as he sat beside Peisandros; Philoctetes and Teucer, the two greatest archers in the army and now firm friends; Little Ajax; Idomeneus of Crete; Menestheus of Athens; and all the other noble warriors who had braved the dangers of the Trojan horse, to their eternal glory.

‘And you, old friend?’ Eperitus asked. ‘You must be keen to haul up the anchor stones and set sail? To get back to Penelope and Telemachus.’

Odysseus could not hide a grin at the thought, but his eyes were less certain.

‘The heart’s eager, but the mind is afraid,’ he replied. ‘My whole body’s crying out to hold Penelope again and to embrace my boy for the first time since he was a baby. And yet the idea terrifies me, too. What if Penelope doesn’t love me any more? What if Telemachus hates me for abandoning him at such a young age? I would in his place – wouldn’t you?’

The doubt in his intelligent, green eyes was genuine, but Eperitus laughed it off and threw an arm about his shoulder.

‘Stop worrying. Remember the message Penelope sent with Omeros? Didn’t she say she was desperate for you to return, and that Telemachus is longing for his father? When we finally sail back into that tiny little harbour, it’s going to be the greatest homecoming in the whole of Greece. And,’ he added, with a hint of solemnity, ‘don’t forget she said that Eupeithes is threatening his old tricks again. The sooner we get back, the sooner we can deal with him and his cronies.’

Odysseus simply nodded and turned his attention back to the other kings. A soldier had arrived and was handing Agamemnon a large clay tablet marked with tightly packed symbols. The king showed it to Nestor and they discussed its contents in hushed voices. Eperitus tipped out a slop of wine in libation to the gods and raised the krater to his lips.

‘So, what did I miss?’ he asked.

‘There were some heated arguments about how the plunder should be shared –’

‘Nine-tenths to Agamemnon and the scraps to be divided equally between the rest of us?’ Eperitus asked, sceptically.

‘Surprisingly, no,’ Odysseus answered. ‘He wanted a full half, but that received a lot of complaints and he backed down without much of a fight. Perhaps he’s content with the destruction of Troy and the knowledge the Aegean will be controlled by Mycenae from now on. Either way, he agreed everything should be split equally, depending on the number of ships each king brought with him.’

Eperitus raised his eyebrows. ‘And the captives?’

‘The same, to be decided by lot. Except for the high-ranking women, that is. They were brought before the assembly and allotted by Agamemnon – Cassandra to himself, Hecabe to me, Andromache to Neoptolemus, Helen to Menelaus –’