The Gates Of Troy (20 page)

He bowed low, then with a brief nod to Eperitus was gone.

‘What was that all about?’ asked Laertes after his nemesis had left.

‘I believe that was the first heart-felt apology Eupeithes has ever offered me,’ Odysseus answered. ‘Will you and mother be coming to watch the fleet disembark?’

‘Fleet?’ Laertes scoffed. ‘That’s a very grand expression for a dozen ancient galleys pulled together at the last moment. If your Taphian friend Mentes hadn’t offered to sell us six of his ships, half of the army would have been sailing in merchant vessels. Even now I doubt you’ll make it to Aulis, let alone Troy.’

‘Well, that would be one way to avoid my doom,’ Odysseus replied, sardonically. ‘But on the assumption the fleet makes it out of the harbour, will you and mother be there to see us off?’

‘She said her goodbyes to you last night, Odysseus, and won’t say them again. She already believes she’s seen you for the last time, so I don’t know how she’ll take this oracle you’ve been keeping secret all these years.’

‘She’ll see me again, I know it,’ Odysseus said firmly. ‘And what about you father? Will you come to the harbour?’

Laertes took his son’s hand. ‘I don’t like crowds, so I’ll say farewell here. Look after yourself and come back as quickly as you can. Mentor and I will take good care of Penelope and Telemachus for you.’

With that, he turned his pale, watery eyes away and departed, leaving only Eperitus, Eurylochus and Mentor with the king. Odysseus took a last look around the hall he had known so well for all of his life, then turned and left.

The changeable weather had brought a sky full of grey cloud to cover the departure of the Ithacan fleet. Odysseus marched out of the palace gates with his three companions to a loud cheer from the waiting army and the crowds of Ithacans who had come to see them off to war. He waved his hand in acknowledgement and looked at the hundreds of faces. The soldiers stared back with something close to adoration, all of them eager to risk their lives for a war not of their making, in a foreign land none of them had ever seen. Each man wore a chelonion flower tucked into his belt or in a joint of his armour, to act as a reminder of their homeland. Odysseus knew almost all of them by sight and many by name, even amongst those who had come from the furthest corners of his small kingdom. As he stood before them, a wave of nervous energy burst through his stomach and filled him with a feeling of nausea. Every moment of the past two weeks had been consumed by preparation for the great expedition, but now he was finally able to understand that he was leaving his beloved homeland for a faraway country, unable to say when – or if-he or any of his men would return.

At that moment, a bark erupted from the crowd and Argus came bounding towards him.

‘Hello, boy,’ he said, bending down and patting the puppy vigorously as it licked his beard. ‘I was wondering where you’d got to. Thought perhaps you didn’t want to see me off.

Argus barked and wagged his tail.

‘I’m sure you’d love to come along for the voyage, youngster,’ Odysseus said, holding the dog’s face in his hands and looking into his eyes. ‘And you’d be better company than most. But a ship’s no place for a dog, and neither is a battlefield. Mentor’s going to look after you until I come back.’

‘That’s right, boy,’ said Mentor, bending down to pat Argus’s head. ‘We’re being left at home while Odysseus and Eperitus go to reap all the glory. But at least we can hunt a few boar while they’re away, eh?’

Odysseus grinned at his old friend, then turned to Eperitus.

‘Time to divide the men into their units,’ he said.

Eperitus nodded and stepped forward. ‘Form up by your commanders,’ he shouted, his voice rebounding off the walls and houses.

Suddenly the hum of conversation grew louder and more urgent as the men hurriedly kissed their loved ones goodbye and gathered their arms and belongings about them. This was followed by a disorderly stampede of warriors searching to find their nominated commanders, who in their turn were calling out their own names so that their men would be able to find them in the chaos.

‘You’ll have your work cut out getting this lot into shape,’ Odysseus said in a low voice that only Eperitus could hear.

‘We’ll manage it,’ Eperitus replied.

As he was the commander of Odysseus’s ship, large numbers of men were now emerging from the mayhem and making their way towards Eperitus. They included the hand-picked warriors of Odysseus’s personal bodyguard, Antiphus, Eurybates and the titanic figure of Polites among them. Arceisius was also with them, grinning in anticipation of his first great adventure.

‘This is quite a rabble you’ve got here, Eperitus,’ Antiphus sighed, looking about at the chaotic assembly.

‘Anything we can do to help?’ asked Eurybates.

‘Yes. Organize our lot into ten rows of twelve, get rid of the women and make sure we haven’t gained any stragglers,’ Eperitus ordered firmly.

An instant later the old soldiers of the guard were barking commands and using the shafts of their spears to chase people into, or out of, the orderly ranks their captain had requested.

‘Having trouble with your army, Odysseus?’

Odysseus turned to see Agamemnon standing behind him. Menelaus and Palamedes stood on either side of the Mycenaean king and an escort of a dozen well-armed men stood watchfully at their shoulders.

‘If you’re in a hurry, gentlemen,’ Odysseus said, shaking the hands of the two brothers, though pointedly avoiding the hand offered by Palamedes, ‘I can send them back to their homes and just take the one ship.’

He pointed to Eperitus’s unit who, though still lacking a few men, were standing in orderly rows.

‘We can wait,’ Agamemnon replied, clearly enjoying the sight of hundreds of armed men running around with little semblance of order. ‘I’m sure that once your men separate themselves from their families they’ll make a fine body of men. Unless, that is, the women and children are coming too.’

Odysseus gave a tired smile and shook his head. ‘Not yet. Now, if you’ll forgive me, I have to say goodbye to my own family. Eperitus, get the men down to their ships a unit at a time, with ours last.’

Eperitus watched the king stride back through the palace gates with Argus barking at his ankles. Odysseus was about to face one of the hardest challenges of his life, but this time there was nothing Eperitus could do to help him.

Actoris gave Telemachus to his father and stepped back.

‘Such a shame,’ she tutted as Odysseus bent to kiss the child on his warm, red cheek. ‘Such a shame. I hope this war doesn’t last long, my lord, or you won’t hear his first words or see him learn to crawl.’

‘Don’t make matters worse, Actoris,’ said Penelope, her voice strained. ‘Leave us now, and take Telemachus with you.’

Odysseus pressed a final kiss on the baby’s forehead before passing him into the old nursemaid’s waiting arms.

‘Go with Telemachus, boy,’ Odysseus ordered, looking down at Argus. ‘Guard him until I return.’

He barked once and promptly followed Actoris out of the room, trotting along beside her with his head craned up at the white bundle in her arms. Odysseus watched them go, then shut the double doors behind them and walked over to the bed in the middle of the room. Each post had a thick girth and was inlaid with patterns of gold, silver and ivory that twisted and turned all the way up to the ceiling.

‘Do you remember when I made this bed?’ he said, sliding his palm like a plane over the smooth surface of one of the posts.

Penelope smiled and sat on the pile of furs that covered the thick straw mattress. ‘Of course I do. You refused to sleep with me for two weeks until you’d finished it.’

‘Ah, but it was worth the wait.’

Penelope lay back on the bed, her long, dark hair spreading over the light-coloured fleece like a fan. ‘Yes, I couldn’t forget that either.’

‘I made this post from the bole of a living olive tree,’ Odysseus continued. ‘The others I just cut to size and fitted, but this one was from the tree that used to stand here before I built this part of the palace. Its roots still run beneath the bed we’ve shared for ten years – the best ten years of my life, Penelope.’

‘Will you be away long, Odysseus? The talk among the slaves is that the expedition will take over a year – it’s an awfully long time to be apart from you.’

‘Who can say for certain?’ Odysseus mused, sitting beside his wife and placing his hand on her warm stomach. ‘The Trojans might give Helen back the moment they see our fleet anchored off their shores, or they might decide to fight it out. But I promise you I’ll do everything I can to bring this quarrel to a quick end, even if I have to give up eternal glory and all the plunder in Priam’s treasury to achieve it. There’s nowhere I want to be more than back here with you and our son.’

‘I know,’ Penelope said, reaching up and touching his face. ‘But I’m going to miss you however long you’re gone. It’ll be lonely without you.’

‘Don’t say that. There are many people here who love you dearly, and you’ll have Telemachus to look after. Besides, the war may not happen at all, and if it does victory should be swift.’

‘Only the gods can say how and when it will end,’ Penelope replied, sitting up. ‘But I know this much, Odysseus: the Greeks won’t succeed without you. Your intelligence and courage are already well known, but this war is going to reveal the
true
greatness that I know is hidden within you. I want nothing more than for you to be here, in this bed with me every night, but your potential can never be realized on this forgotten collection of rocks at the world’s edge. So go to Troy and fulfil your oath, and let everyone see the kind of man you really are.’

She stood and took Odysseus’s hands in hers, pulling him to his feet.

‘The time is nearly upon us,’ she said, her voice low to hide the emotion that was welling up inside her. ‘But before you go, husband, I want you to have something to remember me by.’

She led him by the hand from the bedroom to the older part of the palace. There were no slaves in any of the corridors – everybody was outside, seeing Ithaca’s army off to war – and soon they were alone in a torch-lit storeroom that smelled of wine and old leather.

‘Here,’ she said, taking a heap of cloth from a table and unfolding it. ‘It’s a double cloak. I made it myself.’

Odysseus unclipped his worn-out old cloak and let it fall to the dirt floor, then took the garment from his wife’s hands and swung it over his shoulders. Even in the weak torchlight, the purple wool had a silvery sheen like the skin of a dried onion. The fine material felt soft and smooth on his upper arms, and despite its extra thickness was light and moved freely.

As he admired the feel of it, Penelope stepped up and fastened it over his left shoulder with a golden brooch. Odysseus looked down at it, but could not make out the design in the gloom.

‘What does it show?’ he asked.

‘A dog killing a faun,’ Penelope answered, putting her hands behind his neck and kissing him tenderly on the lips. ‘I thought it suited you; it’s like the motif on Agamemnon’s sail, but more restrained. You’re a greater king than he is, Odysseus, though your strength is more subtle.’

‘I’ll need subtlety if I’m to make my mark on this adventure. You remember the sort of men who paid court to Helen – powerful, rich, great warriors to a man. What am I compared to them? The only advantage I have is up here.’ He tapped his head with his forefinger.

‘Just make sure you use your brains to bring the rest of you back safely,’ Penelope said, throwing her arms about his broad chest and leaning her head on his shoulder. ‘I’ve heard terrible things about these Trojans, Odysseus. Is it true they’re battle-hardened and show their enemies no mercy?’

Odysseus thought of his father’s words to the Kerosia, as well as the things he had heard said at the failed council of war held by Agamemnon ten years earlier.

‘They’re good soldiers, I’m told – skilled with the spear, the bow and the chariot. Many Greeks will meet their deaths in Ilium, and I can’t promise you I won’t be one of them – that’s for the gods to decide. But I’m no weakling, either, and there won’t be many Trojans who can better me on the battlefield. If I die, though, or if I’m not home by the time Telemachus is old enough to take the throne for himself, then you must marry whoever you choose and start again. I don’t want you to be lonely, Penelope.’