The Gates Of Troy (48 page)

‘I can’t help you,’ he said, stepping away from her and looking down. ‘My duty is to Odysseus. I can’t break my oath to him.’

‘You warriors and your damned oaths,’ Clytaemnestra spat, her eyes flashing with anger. Then she placed her hands either side of his head and pulled him into a kiss. ‘But you
are
going to help me, Eperitus, one way or another. If nothing else, we are lovers and I want you to make me a promise on your oath.’

‘What promise?’

‘I’m going to try to escape tonight, but if I fail and Agamemnon kills Iphigenia . . .’ Clytaemnestra paused and took a deep breath. ‘If Agamemnon murders my daughter I want your word that you will protect him until he returns from Troy.’

‘
Protect
him?’ Eperitus exclaimed. ‘I could understand if you wanted me to kill him, but . . .’

‘I intend to have that pleasure for myself,’ Clytaemnestra said, her eyes as cold as ice in the moonlight.

Eperitus could see she meant what she said. ‘If that’s what you really want, then I give you my word I’ll protect him.’

‘No, Eperitus!’ Clytaemnestra said firmly. ‘That’s not good enough. I want you to swear it before Zeus, the Sun, the Earth and the Avenging Furies. Say it.’

There was power in the queen’s voice as she spoke, a power that reflected the hatred beneath. In that moment, Eperitus sensed the similarity between Clytaemnestra and Agamemnon: both were unshakeably ruthless and cold at heart, and if resolved on something would not let anything stand between them and their desires. Whether they had always been like that or had grown severe and cold over the years together, Eperitus was unable to tell, but he had no more chance of denying Clytaemnestra’s will than he would an order from the King of Men himself.

‘Have it your way, Clytaemnestra,’ he said. ‘If Agamemnon murders Iphigenia, then I promise to protect his life to the best of my ability until he returns from Troy. I call upon Zeus, the Sun, the Earth and the Avenging Furies to witness my oath. Now are you satisfied?’

‘I am,’ she said, reaching out and taking his hand. ‘Don’t think badly of me, Eperitus, for I had to extract this promise from you. Without it I could not say what I’ve been longing to tell you since I first set eyes on you in the great hall.’

Eperitus felt suddenly tense. He thought of Calchas’s words to him in Priam’s throne room and realized with a cold shiver that Clytaemnestra was the one the priest had told him to seek.

‘What is it?’ he asked.

Clytaemnestra stepped closer and rested her head on his chest. ‘I said I would try to escape, Eperitus, and that I wanted you to help me. I expected you to refuse me at first, of course – you are bound by honour and friendship to serve Odysseus, and I knew you would not betray him for my sake. But I also knew you would never allow Iphigenia to come to harm, if you knew the truth about her.’

‘The truth?’ Eperitus asked. ‘What truth?’

‘That Iphigenia is
your
daughter, Eperitus.’

Chapter Twenty-five

A
T THE
L
ION
G
ATE

E
peritus seized Clytaemnestra’s shoulders and stared at her in disbelief.

‘Iphigenia’s not my daughter,’ he said, shaking his head and frowning. ‘That’s a lie to make me help you escape. Odysseus said you were desperate, but I never thought you’d stoop to this.’

‘Stop being a fool, Eperitus, and use your head. We made love ten years ago and Iphigenia was born nine months later. I hadn’t slept with Agamemnon for weeks when I realized I was pregnant, though I allowed him to take me as soon as I knew – I didn’t want him to discover my infidelity. But even if your head is too obstinate to believe it, then search your heart and you’ll know.’

He sat on the bench and stared hard at the dark surface of the pond, trying desperately to comprehend what Clytaemnestra’s news meant. Despite his words of denial, he knew she was not lying to him: Iphigenia was the right age to be the product of their lovemaking in the Taygetus Mountains, and he believed Clytaemnestra when she said she had not slept with Agamemnon for weeks before becoming pregnant. More convincing, though, was the sense of familiarity he had felt about Iphigenia from the moment he had first seen the girl. He now realized that he had recognized something of himself in her features and even her character. Though her mannerisms were echoes of Clytaemnestra and Agamemnon, her determination and childish sense of honour were his.

Clytaemnestra sat next to him and laid a hand gently on his shoulder. ‘You know it to be true, don’t you?’ she said. ‘You only have to think about how alike you are. Jenny accepted it straight away when I told her.’

‘You
told
her!’ Eperitus exclaimed. ‘When?’

‘This morning, after Agamemnon arrived.’

Eperitus’s surprise quickly turned to curiosity, tinged with fear. ‘So what did she say? Was she pleased – or disappointed?’

Clytaemnestra laughed. ‘For a while I think she was too shocked to believe me, but when she finally listened to her instincts and accepted it was true, she was overjoyed. She’s longed for a father like you all her life, Eperitus, someone to give her the love and attention that Agamemnon never did.’

She took Eperitus’s hand and held it in her lap, smiling up at the night sky with more tears flowing down her cheeks. Only now they were tears of happiness. ‘I’ve told her stories about you since she was a little girl, you know. I thought she should at least hear about you, even if she didn’t realize you were her father. The funny thing is,’ she said, smiling and sniffing at the same time, ‘she has always thought more of you than any of the other great men of Greece.’

‘Because you made more of me than you should have.’

‘No – because she knew, in her heart, that you were special to her. And these past few days have proved it. Being with you has given her such joy, and learning you’re her real father has brought all her hopes and dreams to life.’

Clytaemnestra looked to the east and saw that the darkness was already being suffused by the light of approaching dawn. If they were to flee Mycenae, it would have to be soon. Eperitus followed her anxious gaze and understood her concern.

‘Years ago, I visited the oracle at Mount Parnassus,’ he began. ‘The Pythoness’s words burned themselves into my memory: “Ares’s sword has forged a bond that will lead to Olympus, but the hero should beware love, for if she clouds his desires he will fall into the Abyss.” She was predicting a choice between fame and renown in battle, or love that will lead to obscurity. Naturally, as a soldier I want to win immortality by defeating my enemies and bringing glory to my name, so I’ve always been careful not to give my heart to a woman. I never realized the Pythoness could have meant my own daughter. And now it seems the choice is upon me: allow Agamemnon to have his way and then follow Odysseus to fame in Troy, or betray my own king and flee with you and Iphigenia into a life of insignificance, to have the love of a family but ultimately to die and be forgotten.’

‘Then let Iphigenia be your fame and your glory,’ Clytaemnestra pleaded. ‘In Troy you may win renown with your spear, but who will tell of it? Will you surpass Achilles, Ajax, Diomedes or even Odysseus? Of course not. The bards won’t sing of your greatness, Eperitus, or preserve your name in their poems for future generations. True fame is for kings, not soldiers. But Iphigenia will pass on your name – to her children, and they to their children. She already worships you like a god and knows everything you’ve done. Why not let her be your legacy?’

Eperitus thought of Iphigenia’s face, recalling her different reactions and expressions during the days he had spent in her company. He remembered her sombre and respectful look – advanced for her years – as they had laid the garland of flowers over Aerope’s gravestone; he grinned with pleasure at the memory of her pride as she paraded him like a captive before her friends; and then he thought of her consuming enthusiasm as she exaggerated his adventures to Tecton and his father. Suddenly he knew he could not permit Agamemnon to destroy such a beautiful and wonderful life. He would not allow his newly discovered family to be annihilated by one man’s ambition.

He looked up at the thinning darkness and sniffed the air. Dawn was not far away. ‘Come on,’ he said, standing and pulling Clytaemnestra to her feet. He led her across the wide lawn towards the steps. ‘We must head for Ithaca at once – Penelope will hide us if Agamemnon comes looking for Iphigenia. But it’s more likely the expedition will break up before then, and when Odysseus returns home I’ll explain to him why I had to leave.’

‘And he’ll thank you for preventing this cursed war and allowing him to return to the family and home he loves,’ Clytaemnestra assured him, squeezing his hand and smiling. ‘Now I must fetch Jenny – she’s waiting for me in my room, ready to leave. Go and fetch your weapons and meet us here as soon as you can. I’ve arranged for a man to meet us with horses on the other side of the walls; he’ll supply us with provisions for a few days, and I will bring enough gold to meet our needs in the weeks ahead.’

‘I’ll be quick,’ Eperitus replied, releasing her hand and running towards the steps that led to the courtyard above.

Eperitus paced up and down by the pond, his grandfather’s shield slung over his shoulder and his spears clutched in his sweating palm. Every few moments he threw an anxious glance towards the doorway that led to the royal quarters, but it was only when he thought of going to fetch Clytaemnestra that the door finally burst open and the queen appeared with Iphigenia at her side.

He moved towards them, but upon seeing him Iphigenia let go of her mother’s hand and ran across the lawn towards him.

‘Father!’ she said as he bent down to meet her. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, pressing her cheek against his.

‘Daughter,’ he answered softly in her ear, lifting her up and holding her close against the leather of his breastplate. She was light in his strong arms and he felt the anxiety ease from his body as she hugged him. ‘What took you so long?’

‘I couldn’t find Eperitus,’ she explained, leaning back and opening her palm to reveal the ivory warrior Tecton’s father had carved. ‘I didn’t want to leave without him.’

‘Well, now you have the real Eperitus,’ he said, looking into her brown eyes and smiling. ‘And I promise you won’t be able to lose
me
so easily.’

‘She’ll lose you all too soon if Agamemnon finds us,’ Clytaemnestra warned, her face strained and nervous as she joined them. ‘He’ll be awake soon, so we must go now if we’re to get away.’

Without wasting another moment they ran across the garden to the far gate, which led to the narrow streets beyond. As they scanned the silent shadows for signs of life a cock crowed from the upper reaches of the city behind them. Seized by a sudden sense of urgency, they abandoned their caution and dashed down the sloping road towards the lower level. Soon they were at the top of the ramp that overlooked the circle of royal graves and led to the Lion Gate. The vast doors were shut, as Eperitus had expected, and three guards were seated on the ground before them, huddled in their thick cloaks and talking quietly to each other.

At the sight of the man, woman and child they sprang to their feet and reached for the long spears propped against a nearby wall.

‘Who’s that?’ one of them called, his voice full of suspicion as he lowered his spear menacingly at the newcomers.

‘Your queen,’ Clytaemnestra answered, striding down the broad, paved steps towards them. ‘Open the gates and let me out. I have urgent business in the town.’

The men did not move. ‘I’m sorry, mistress,’ said the same guard, ‘but the king has given orders for no one to enter or leave – including yourself.’

At that moment, Eperitus’s sharp hearing picked up the sound of many footsteps running through the palace above, accompanied by the shouts of men and the clanking of heavy armour. Somehow, the absence of Agamemnon’s wife and daughter had already been discovered; the pursuit was about to begin.

‘Hold this,’ he ordered, slipping the shield from his shoulder and passing one of his spears to Iphigenia.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked, struggling to hold the tall shaft – nearly twice her own height – with both hands.

But Eperitus, knowing there was no time to waste arguing with the gate guards, had already launched himself down the ramp at the three men. Their reactions were tired and sluggish as he ran past Clytaemnestra towards them, and before they could lower their spears his shield had knocked one of them aside and sent him sprawling across the flagstones. The others staggered backwards, but as both men lowered their weapons defensively Eperitus slammed the shaft of his remaining spear into the face of one of them, catching him across his right eye and forehead and knocking him unconscious to the floor.

‘Open the gate!’ Eperitus shouted over his shoulder to Clytaemnestra as he faced the last guard.

Clytaemnestra and Iphigenia ran together towards the wooden portals and strained to lift the heavy bar from its brackets. Somewhere in the palace above a voice was barking orders. Weapons and armour clanked in response, and Eperitus knew that at any moment dozens of soldiers would be rushing down to prevent their escape. He looked at his opponent’s frightened and confused expression, sensing the man’s inexperience, and in the same instant lunged forward with the point of his spear. The thrust was unexpected and the man’s attempt to parry it came far too late; the weapon punched into his shoulder and with a scream of pain he spun around and fell to the floor, clutching at his wound.