King of Ithaca (Adventures of Odysseus)

by Glyn Iliffe

  ‘Are you busy?’ she asked. ‘Helen and I would like to spend some time with you before retiring.’

  Tyndareus shook his head. ‘I’ll be grateful of your company, my dear.’ He looked at Helen. ‘Why the frown, daughter?’

  ‘I’m saving my smiles for the best men in Greece,’ she told him sharply.

  ‘Then you’re still unhappy,’ he sighed. ‘How can you be sad when kings and princes from every city in the land will be coming to pay homage to you?’

  The king looked at his daughter as she stood before the hearth. As usual she was dressed in white, and with the light behind her he could clearly distinguish her naked silhouette through the gossamer material. He shook his head, silently wondering how any man could ever hope to resist her. Agamemnon might not have considered it in his great plan, but Tyndareus knew there would be bloodshed as soon as a husband was picked, if not before. All those proud warriors! Did his son-in-law really expect them to form an alliance under his leadership, when any fool could see they would be at each other’s throats within days?

  ‘Father,’ Helen said angrily, ‘you intend to parade me like a prize cow before a pack of over-preened simpletons, and expect me to be pleased at the prospect?’

  She forced a tear into each eye, which was easy to do considering the frustration she felt about the situation, and looked away from her foster-father.

  Tyndareus was a great king and a formidable fighter, and as such he knew how to read most men. But about women he knew nothing. Although the rumour was well known amongst all ranks at the palace, never once in all the years since the birth of Helen and her twin brothers had he believed the children were not his own. Similarly, in his doting love for Helen he did not suspect that she considered him an old, dim-witted fool, or that she had very little genuine affection for him.

  ‘Come and sit with me, daughter,’ he offered, retiring into his large wooden chair. ‘And will you sit beside us, Leda?’

  Helen walked over to him, slipped off her sandals and curled up in his broad lap, pressing her long, white feet against the arm of the chair and laying her head against his shoulder.

  She found herself thinking of Theseus, the Athenian braggart who had kidnapped her when she was a girl and taken her to Attica. She remembered his heavily built body, so close to her own, the hardness of his muscles and the smell of his sweat. How scared she had been, how repulsed, and yet how excited. Though she was afraid and knew that her brothers would be searching for her, she also wanted to remain unfound, wanted to discover love in his arms. But in some last act of heroic self-denial he had rejected her when he learned she had not yet become a woman, even when in her naive way she had offered herself to him. And so her brothers had found her safe, her virginity intact.

  The experience had changed her. Helen had stepped beyond the safe confines of palace life and had grown conscious of herself and her effect on men. Though Theseus, whom she hated now with a passion, had resisted her, she knew that the decision had broken him. Even at the age of twelve, her beauty had destroyed the man who had once defeated the infamous Cretan Minotaur.

  Of her own desires, she had learned that she did not want to be a pawn in a political game. Surrounded by walls, guards and the confines of palace life, Helen felt trapped. She wanted freedom, adventure – love. How could Tyndareus really expect her to be happy, exchanging her for political favours, selling her to a man who was not her choice? Where was the romance of escaping with a young lover, where was the danger and the scandal?

  Helen was certain of one thing, though. If a man appeared who could love her for more than the fortune and favour she brought, then she would follow him to the ends of the earth. And she silently vowed that no power – of man or god – would come between them.

  The debate in the Kerosia continued into the night, shuttling back and forth as the slaves brought more food, wine and torches. Eperitus watched as different options were discussed and plans put forward for defending Laertes’s throne from the threatened rebel attack.

  Some suggested taking a force to Eupeithes’s manor house and arresting him for treason, but Koronos assured them the house was well defended and prepared for an attack. Any attempt would only spill Ithacan blood, and could even act as a call to arms for Eupeithes’s supporters. In the end, Laertes insisted he did not want a civil war on his hands and quashed the idea.

  Equally, Koronos’s own suggestion of a meeting with Eupeithes was shouted down. Only when Odysseus insisted that he should be allowed to speak was Koronos able to propose placating Eupeithes with a place on the Kerosia and a promise to adopt his suggestions for generating wealth and forming alliances with other states. But Odysseus argued vehemently against the idea, refusing to reward a would-be traitor with the power he craved.

  ‘Then what do we do?’ asked Halitherses. ‘We can’t sit and wait for Eupeithes to attack us.’

  ‘We won’t.’

  Eperitus looked at Anticleia, who had spoken for the first time. It was irregular in the extreme that a woman should be tolerated at a Kerosia, even if she was the queen, but the sight of a woman addressing a gathering of male elders was something he had never heard of. In Alybas no woman spoke when men were talking, unless specifically invited, but to his surprise Anticleia was permitted to continue.

  ‘There’s more than one way to string a bow. Eupeithes’s power comes from the disaffection he spreads about your father. Fortunately for us, Ithacans are slow to react and their hearts are essentially true, which is why it has taken him so long to turn just a few of the people against Laertes. By lying and emphasizing minor misjudgements he has established a firm opposition to the absolute rule of the king, but if we can remove the foundation upon which he has built his popular support, then it will collapse.’

  Laertes, who had been sulking quietly as his wife spoke, slammed the butt of the staff on the floor.

  ‘What Anticleia means to say is I should hand over my kingship to Odysseus, and then there will be no uprising,’ he said bitterly, staring with open animosity at his son.

  ‘Eupeithes will have lost the very reason for his opposition to the throne,’ Anticleia explained to him gently. ‘His support will simply drain away.’

  The other members of the Kerosia looked at each other in a startled hush, then as a single body looked at Odysseus. The prince leaned back into his chair and stared at his parents.

  ‘The queen’s wisdom is well known and highly regarded. But she is a woman and holds no power at the Kerosia. For myself I ask only this: what does the king say?’

  Laertes looked at his son with sad, angry eyes, before lowering his gaze to the flames.

  ‘It’s the only way to defeat Eupeithes without bloodshed,’ he sighed. ‘If the Kerosia will support you, Odysseus, then you shall be announced king tomorrow. So speaks the king of Ithaca.’

  There were murmurs of approval amongst the ring of counsellors. Eperitus looked at Odysseus and recognized that he would make a good king, for all his deception and trickery. He was young, strong and brave and Eperitus had seen with his own eyes that he was a talented warrior. More importantly, he had the support of a goddess and the blessing of the oracle.

  ‘Forgive me, lord,’ Halitherses said, bowing to Laertes, ‘but I feel the time has come for Odysseus to take his rightful inheritance. I, for one, will support him.’

  ‘Odysseus isn’t ready for the responsibility,’ said Phronius, waving his stick in a prophetic fashion. ‘I tell you all that a king must have a wife, and she must be a woman suited to rule.’

  ‘When Odysseus is king he’ll have plenty of time to find himself a wife,’ said Halitherses. ‘The important thing is that he should become king now, before the rebels attack in the spring. That way he’ll steal Eupeithes’s thunderbolts from his hand. The people know and love Odysseus, and they’ll follow him because he is Laertes’s son. The blood of the king’s line is in him, and that is something Eupeithes will never have. Given the full support of the Kerosia, he will be a
ble to build on the strong foundations laid by his father.’

  ‘I disagree,’ said Koronos, his voice no longer smooth but suddenly harsh as stone. ‘The majority of the people are for Laertes. If Odysseus takes the throne before the people are ready for him, then Eupeithes will exploit this to his advantage.’

  He stood and held up his hand against the murmuring of Odysseus’s supporters.

  ‘Listen to me,’ he insisted. ‘If Odysseus becomes king now, Ithaca will be turned against him by Eupeithes’s rhetoric. These are simple folk whose loyalties are bought slowly and grudgingly; though they know Odysseus the prince, what do they know of Odysseus the king? The first thing they’ll look for is the stamp of his authority, and unless Fortune provides Odysseus with a chance to prove himself Eupeithes will be swift to spread dissent. What he has taken years to do to Laertes’s reputation, I tell you truthfully he will do in days to Odysseus’s.’

  Koronos watched the effect of his words settling upon his audience before sitting and giving the arena to whoever should dare to challenge him. It was Odysseus who stood. Crossing to his father he took the proffered staff and turned to the Kerosia.

  ‘Friends, beloved father, listen to what I have to say. It appears to me that the ultimate decision lies not with age, but with youth. I’ve listened to your counsels and feel like a rope between two teams of men, one moment pulled this way and the next that. I hear the words of my parents and feel the temptation of the throne. I see my friend Halitherses speak in my favour, and I feel that I could take on my father’s yoke and bring these islands to even greater prosperity.

  ‘And then I hear Phronius say that to be an effective king I need a woman who is worthy to become my queen. Most convincingly, I hear the argument of shrewd Koronos, a man with a god-given gift of intelligence, who is more familiar than any of us with Eupeithes’s strengths.’ He fixed his eyes on Koronos, who acknowledged him with a nod. ‘His words stand fast against all counterarguments. A young man cannot become king without first proving his worth to his people. Therefore, though I must accept one day soon, I cannot become Ithaca’s king until I’ve earned the loyalty of the people.’

  ‘And how do you intend to show the people you are fit to be king, Odysseus?’ Koronos asked.

  The prince confessed he did not know how to prove his worthiness to the people of Ithaca. A few hasty suggestions were made for quests that would test his abilities, but these were either too unimpressive or too ridiculous, and faded away with little or no further consideration. Then Koronos, who seemed to have been in control of the debate at every juncture, stretched out a hand for the speaker’s staff.

  ‘If you want to prove yourself, Odysseus; and if you must have a wife; and if we all want Laertes’s son to reign in his father’s place and to defeat Eupeithes, then I have news which will solve all our problems. Only this morning I returned from a visit to the Peloponnese, where I occasionally travel on business. While I was busy discussing the price for a batch of oil yesterday evening, a herald arrived in the marketplace announcing that the king of Sparta is inviting the nobles of Greece to pay court to his daughter, Helen. I’ve never seen her, but we’ve all heard she’s the most beautiful woman alive.’

  Odysseus laughed out loud. ‘And you’re suggesting, Koronos, that I march halfway across the Peloponnese to beg at the tables of the rich and famous for a few weeks, before being turned out on my backside like a dog.’

  ‘You haven’t allowed me to finish, my lord,’ the noble answered stiffly. ‘The man who is chosen to become her husband will inherit King Tyndareus’s throne – whoever gains the hand of Helen also gains the might of Sparta. If you came back to Ithaca with Helen as your queen all our problems would be solved: you’ll have proved your worthiness to rule; the people will love you; and Eupeithes will wither from their minds like a cut flower in the sun. And should he decide to make a fight of it with his Taphian mercenaries, then he’ll have our Spartan allies to reckon with.’

  Odysseus merely shook his head and smiled. ‘It’s a preposterous suggestion, Koronos, especially for you. Greek laws don’t allow a man to rule two nations, so eventually I would have to choose between Ithaca and Sparta – not that it will ever come to that. Besides, I’d rather risk the throne now than waste my time strutting around Sparta like a peacock, all for the pleasure of a girl whose future husband was probably chosen long before this suit was offered. There’s more to this than meets the eye. I won’t go.’

  ‘Why not?’ Eperitus blurted without thinking. For a painful moment all eyes were upon him. ‘Besides, if Eupeithes intends to attack in the spring, what alternative do we have?’

  Halitherses added his voice to the young warrior’s. ‘Don’t be frightened of a woman, Odysseus. A man of your calibre can achieve anything he puts his mind to. That’s the mark of a true hero.’

  Laertes nodded his agreement. ‘Succeed or fail, it’s clearly the will of the gods that you go. Never has there been a man of our family so blessed with good fortune as you, so I agree with Koronos that you should go to Sparta, even if only to test your luck in the wider world. One thing is true about this whole affair: the answer doesn’t lie within these islands.’

  Odysseus shook his head. ‘I’d need at least half the palace guard as escort and to provide a statement of my rank when I reached Sparta. We would be away for six months at least, by my reckoning, and with half the guard and the heir to the throne gone, why would Eupeithes need to wait until the spring? We would be splitting our forces and inviting trouble. It would be madness.’

  Eperitus slumped dejectedly back into his chair, convinced that nothing was ever decided at an Ithacan council. The only debate he knew how to handle was the kind that was decided with sharpened bronze. But at that moment Koronos stood again, still clutching the speaker’s staff, and looked directly at Odysseus. Something burned in his eyes that was not anger, but amusement.

  ‘You sit there, Odysseus, and talk of proving yourself. I wonder, as the opportunities come and go, will you continue to sit and talk?’

  Odysseus covered the space between them in the blink of an eye. Eperitus watched him wrench the staff from Koronos’s fingers and fully expected him to dash the man’s brains out with it. But within the same instant that his anger had flared, Odysseus controlled it again and forced the staff to his side with a trembling hand. They faced each other and, to Eperitus’s surprise, the older man did not flinch before the terrifying gaze of the prince.

  ‘You’re fortunate this is the Kerosia,’ Odysseus hissed, before forcing a smile to his lips. ‘Here I can accept your criticism without feeling insulted. And perhaps you’re even cleverer than you seem, my friend, for you must surely have wanted me to go to Sparta from the beginning. And I accept your challenge.’

  Chapter Eight

  FAREWELL TO ITHACA

  Eperitus leapt from his bed and dressed as quickly as he could. Outside, the dark streets of Alybas were filled with the din of fighting – men shouting, the scrape and clatter of bronze on bronze. He could smell smoke and a flickering orange glow shone through the high window of his room onto the ceiling.

  Moments later he was rushing down the steps to the ground floor, pushing the household slaves aside and ignoring their urgent pleas as he ran to arm himself. There was no time to fit breastplate or greaves, so he crammed his bronze cap onto his head and pulled his shield from the wall. One of the newer slaves, whose name he could not remember, followed him in and handed him his sword.

  ‘What’s going on out there?’ Eperitus demanded.

  ‘Looks like rebellion, my lord. A group of soldiers set a few of the houses alight to draw the guards from the palace. Now there’s hand-to-hand fighting and the streets are littered with corpses.’

  ‘You seem to have your wits about you,’ Eperitus said. ‘Find what weapons you can and arm the male slaves, then lead the women up into the hills until the fighting is over.’

  ‘What about the house?’

  ‘Don’t worry a
bout the house. Have you seen my father?’

  ‘No, sir. He could have been in the palace until late, as usual, or perhaps he left as soon as the trouble started.’

  Eperitus patted the man’s arm and ran out into the street. A house was burning further up the hill, filling the night air with sparks that spiralled up towards the black clouds above. There was an awful stench of burning flesh and Eperitus could see several lifeless shapes lying in the mud of the street. The sounds of battle continued, but had moved away in the direction of King Pandion’s palace.

  Eperitus set off at a sprint, driven by fear for the king’s life. He passed several more corpses and only stopped as he approached the gates. These were guarded by four members of the guard, who lowered their spear points as they recognized him.

  ‘What’s happening?’ he asked, relieved to see the gates held by the king’s men, but concerned to still hear the sounds of battle within. ‘Is it a rebellion?’

  ‘Your father has everything under control,’ one of them answered. ‘They’re just finishing off the last of the survivors now. You’ll find him in the great hall.’

  Eperitus ran through to the small courtyard beyond, where yet more bodies littered the ground. Even in the reflected glow from the clouds he was able to recognize many of their faces, the light absent from their eyes and their features frozen in the agony of death. Knowing his spear would be awkward in the narrow corridors, he threw it aside and drew his sword as he hurried over the threshold and into the palace.

  Torches sputtered in their brackets, casting a dull, pulsing light over the passage that led to Pandion’s throne room. The sounds of fighting had all but disappeared, leaving only the clashing of swords from beyond the doors at the end of the corridor. Eperitus had a sudden feeling that the king was in danger and that only he could save him, but as he prepared to join the fight he was stopped by a sight that drained the energy from his limbs. Lying on the stairs to the women’s quarters were his older brothers. One lay face up, his throat open and dark with blood; the other lay across him, the broken shaft of a spear protruding from his spine.