The Oracles of Troy (The Adventures of Odysseus)

Then a strong hand seized the back of his breastplate – the thick knuckles digging into the nape of his neck – and began dragging him at speed through the long grass. His vision cleared again, and he almost shouted in terror as he saw the Trojan cavalry bearing down on him less than a spear’s cast away, their well-bred mounts steaming and snorting as their riders drove them madly on into battle. More hands were hooked beneath Eperitus’s shoulders and he was hauled rapidly through a gap in the Greek line, before being dropped hastily into the grass. He caught a brief sight of Eurybates and Omeros standing over him, and then Polites – whose vast strength had pulled him to safety – before the Ithacans were turning and rejoining the double-ranked ring of Argives, ready to meet the Trojan onslaught.

Grimacing with pain, Eperitus drew himself up on one elbow and placed a hand on the sword slung beneath his left arm. The Greeks had one hope if they were to survive the charge – to stand firm and not flee, whatever their impulses might scream at them to do. It was rare that a horse would ride into an unbroken barrier of shields and spears; instead, its instincts would drive it around the sides with the rest of the herd, losing the impact of the charge and compelling its rider to attack his enemy side-on. But if one man in the shield wall lost his courage and ran, the gap he left would be like an open gate, inviting the cavalry to surge in and tear the Greeks apart from within. Eperitus had seen it happen on many occasions, and the memory of those massacres made him tense as the din of hooves reached its climax.

The Greeks held their nerve. The vast body of horses rushed past and around them, accompanied by the shouts and curses of their riders. A spear thudded into the ground beside Eperitus and he felt a body crash down behind him, though whether Greek or Trojan he could not tell in the confusion. A mounted warrior appeared, framed in the circle of blue sky above the heads of Omeros and Polites, but Eurybates pierced his throat with his spear. Suddenly there were horsemen on every side, hacking at the shields and spear points of the Greeks. The clang of bronze filled the air and for a while Eperitus feared his comrades would be overwhelmed by the sheer number of Trojans. But the horsemen were disadvantaged by having to present their unshielded flanks to the Greeks in order to wield their spears and swords, and many were brought down. After a brief but fierce fight, Eperitus heard the unmistakeable voice of his father calling out from behind them. The Trojans began to pull away.

Now a shadow fell across him and he looked up to see the outline of Odysseus, black against the slowly rising sun. He knelt down without a word and inspected his friend’s leg. The arrow was still buried in the muscle at the back of his thigh, and Odysseus probed the area gently with his fingertips, causing Eperitus to wince.

‘Despite your best efforts to kill yourself,’ the king commented, still studiously examining the wound, ‘it seems the gods have taken mercy on you. The arrow appears to have missed the bone and the main arteries, but we’re in the middle of a battle and we can’t just leave it in there.’

‘What about the horsemen?’

‘They’ve more important things than us to worry about, now. The Greeks have fought their way back out of the gates and are counter-attacking, led by Agamemnon and Menelaus.’

‘And my father?’

Odysseus took out his dagger and sliced the flight from the back of the arrow, before cutting off a strip of cloth from a dead man’s cloak. He called to Polites and nodded towards Eperitus. Then, as Polites pinned Eperitus’s arms irresistibly to his sides, Odysseus seized the shaft of the arrow and pushed it through the other side of his thigh. Eperitus cried out as a surge of fresh pain racked his body, and then blackness took him. He was woken again by the slap of cold water on his face and the sight of Odysseus holding the bloodied dart before his eyes. Polites was busily wrapping the strip of cloth about his thigh.

‘It would have caused more damage pulling it out,’ Odysseus said apologetically, tapping the barbed arrowhead with his finger. ‘And now we have to get that wound cleaned and treated, before it gets infected. Can you ride a horse?’

As he spoke, Eurybates appeared leading a tall brown mare, a survivor of the Trojan cavalry charge. Its neck was crimson with blood, but the animal seemed unhurt.

‘Yes – and fight from it, too,’ Eperitus answered, sitting up with a grimace. ‘Where’re my spear and shield?’

‘We’ll find them for you, when the battle’s over,’ Odysseus said. ‘First you need to get into the camp and have that leg properly cared for.’