by Glyn Iliffe
‘Little Ajax is the fastest runner in all of Greece, my lord. He may not look quick, but I’ve heard he can outrun any man alive and could even match Olympian Hermes in his winged sandals. Icarius has fooled you, I think.’
Tyndareus scoffed at the notion. ‘Maybe. But perhaps I’m not as stupid as my brother thinks: I’ve offered your rival a bribe to run slower than you – without making it look too obvious of course – and he has accepted. So much for love, eh?’
Odysseus was not convinced, though he did not say as much to the king. They reached the tall wooden doors of the great hall and walked up to the dais, where the other kings and princes awaited them. Little Ajax was there and nodded to them both in a surprisingly civil manner, which naturally made Odysseus suspicious. They took their usual seats and began the business of eating the food the servants brought to them and dousing their beards with the wine they poured into their cups. But after a while Odysseus rose from his seat and asked to be excused. To the surprise of the other high nobility he walked over to his own men, who were in their usual corner of the great hall next to the men of Rhodes.
As he looked about at their familiar, comforting faces and shared their jokes and laughter, his thoughts were firmly fixed upon the race. Though Odysseus was also a fast runner, he knew that if he was to rely upon his legs alone he would never win Penelope for his wife. Tyndareus’s bribe might prove enough to persuade the Locrian to lose, but Odysseus remained unpersuaded. Little Ajax hated to lose in anything to anybody; he competed not so much for the glory as for the delight of seeing others defeated. Odysseus knew he could not afford to take even the slightest risk.
‘Where are Halitherses and Damastor?’ he asked, suddenly noticing their absence.
‘Damastor has skulked off with that slave girl again,’ Antiphus answered.
‘And Halitherses?’
‘Ill. He ate some bad food and now he’s too sick to do anything but lie on his mattress and hold his stomach.’
Odysseus’s eyes gleamed and he sat up straight. ‘Antiphus, you’re an inspiration,’ he said. ‘Now give me some of that wine and let’s drink to the old man’s recovery. And our homes.’
They lifted their cups and murmured their approval – especially, Odysseus was pleased to note, at the notion of Ithaca. He drank and the troubles of the day became suddenly more bearable, thanks to the idea that had struck him. Then he saw Penelope enter the great hall, tall and elegant like a flower set amongst dull weeds. The heads of the guests and slaves observed her in silence, broken only by the occasional whisper that followed in her wake. He saw her glance at the royal dais and noticed with pleasure the disappointment on her face: he knew she had come in the hope of seeing him, and that her heart sank to observe him missing from his usual place.
He could not bear to be apart from her now that she was here. Before, when she had visited the nightly feasts, she had forced him to keep his distance. Believing that she hated him, he had reluctantly left her to her arrogant isolation. Now, though, he found the temptation of being with her irresistible. The thought that she would greet him with a similar strength of longing was a pleasure he could not wait to taste. He rose from his seat and she turned instinctively towards him. There was a fire in her eyes that burned only for him, oblivious to the watching crowd who knew of her shame. Her nostrils fanned open briefly as she saw him, and then without even the glimmer of an acknowledgement she turned and left the hall.
Odysseus snatched a glance at the royal dais. Icarius sat next to the empty chair that Little Ajax had occupied only moments before, watching his daughter as she retreated from the great hall. But Odysseus had no concern for the king or any of the other nobles who looked at Penelope with accusing eyes. That they suspected her of inviting men to her room, as palace rumour now suggested, did not concern him; that Little Ajax must be moving through the crowd in pursuit of her did.
He slipped out of the great hall, unnoticed by the throng of people who were already discussing the departed princess. Outside in the moonlit inner courtyard priests were sacrificing oxen to the ever-watchful gods. They burned thighbones wrapped in glistening fat, the twisting smoke from the fires mingling with their verbose and wailing prayers, while their attendants cut up the animals’ flesh to supply the feast.
Odysseus saw his rival amongst them and ducked quickly out of sight behind one of the pillars that supported the roof of the gallery that circumvented the inner courtyard. From here he watched the attendants shake their heads and shrug their shoulders in response to Little Ajax’s urgent enquiries about Penelope. Then Odysseus heard his name whispered behind him and turned to see the princess, hiding behind another of the pillars. She beckoned to him as she disappeared through a side-door back into the palace.
Odysseus followed her into a corridor that, he guessed by the smell of food, led to the kitchens. She turned and in an instant they were in each other’s arms, kissing and abandoning themselves to their need for each other. The brief but intense flirtation of the night before had left them unfulfilled and tense with frustrated desire, and only the appearance of a slave returning to the kitchens tempered their passion. Penelope grabbed Odysseus by the hand and led him by a complex route through the darkened corridors and eventually to a room stacked with dust-covered clay tablets.
Odysseus looked about at the room. It was unlit and without windows, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. From what he saw he doubted the place had been used for years, except perhaps for secret liaisons between the people who lived and worked in the palace. ‘You know I’m to compete for you against Little Ajax?’ he said.
‘Yes. Tyndareus told me,’ she replied, smiling at him. Her teeth were white in the darkness of the room. ‘He says he offered Little Ajax a bribe to lose, and that he accepted. I can’t wait to be yours. I love you, Odysseus.’
He kissed her lightly and stroked her hair, and in response she put her arms about his neck and pulled his face to hers. Moments later she withdrew and looked into his green eyes.
‘You would have been my first, Odysseus, if we hadn’t been disturbed. I’ve preserved myself for so long knowing one day I’d meet the man I love, and now you’re here and I’m consumed with the need of you. Don’t keep me waiting any longer, I beg you, not even for a day.’ Then it occurred to her she might have misjudged his feelings. Perhaps the need was all hers, and Odysseus bore no attraction for her. ‘Or maybe the other night had no meaning for you?’
Odysseus dismissed her doubts with a shake of his head. ‘I swear by Athena, Penelope, I love you more than anything else. You mean more to me than my home and my family, and I’d gladly die for either of those. If I never restore Ithaca to my father’s rule, but have you, then I’ll be content and count myself blessed by the gods. You’re my new homeland. Wherever you are, that is where my heart lies also. But you aren’t mine yet. Little Ajax has no intention of accepting Tyndareus’s bribe, I’m certain of it, so unless I can find a way of beating him nothing I can do will stop you from being his.’
‘But why shouldn’t he accept the bribe?’ Penelope protested. ‘He told Tyndareus he would.’
‘And perhaps he means it. But if he can fool me into believing I’ll be given an easy victory then his task will be even easier. He intends to marry you, I’m sure of it, and no amount of Tyndareus’s gold will turn his mind from taking you back to Locris with him. No, I have to find another way to defeat him.’
‘Everybody says he’s too fast for you, though. You’ll never beat him.’ Her chin sank onto her chest. ‘Perhaps it’s my fate to marry him and spend the rest of my days on Locris. Though I’d rather kill myself first.’
‘Don’t talk like that.’
‘I can’t think of anything worse than not being with you, Odysseus. At least if we were lovers I’d have that memory to take with me to Locris.’
‘No,’ he insisted. ‘Your love will be the inspiration that takes me to victory. Only when I’ve defeated Little Ajax will I take th
e prize. And I already have an idea of how to ensure victory.’
‘How?’
‘I’m not certain yet, but if I can put something in his food the night before the race, something guaranteed to make him ill, then he won’t be able to run and Icarius will be forced to concede. It might not be the way others would approve of, but my wits are my gift from the gods, just as Little Ajax’s is his great speed. The only problem is that I’ve no idea of herb lore and don’t know what I could use to poison him. Even if I could, I wouldn’t know how to administer it without the risk of others being made ill too.’
Penelope took Odysseus’s hand and held it. ‘You may have the method, my darling, but I have the means. Clytaemnestra knows the properties of every herb in the Eurotas valley, as well as how to use them. She’ll give me something to put in Little Ajax’s drink at tonight’s feast. I know the wine stewards, and they’ll do whatever I ask of them.’
Odysseus returned her grin. ‘You aren’t only beautiful and desirable, Penelope, you’re also very cunning. The gods could have made us for each other. And one day you’ll make the most wonderful queen Ithaca has ever had.’
It was the morning of the race, a fine spring morning with washed blue skies and a strong breeze blowing in from the Taygetus Mountains. Odysseus stood with Agamemnon, Tyndareus and Icarius under the shade of the apple orchard, waiting for Little Ajax to arrive. It was almost half a year since he had come to Sparta, and with spring approaching the prince felt more keenly than ever the urge to return home. Something in his blood told him matters were getting worse back on Ithaca, and that his people were crying out for him.
‘I don’t think he’s coming,’ Tyndareus announced.
‘Then the competition is void,’ Icarius declared. ‘Penelope doesn’t go to either suitor.’
‘Odysseus wins by default,’ Agamemnon corrected.
Icarius noticed a faint smile of triumph pass across Odysseus’s face and had to bite his lip. ‘He’ll come. Perhaps he drank too much last night.’
As they spoke, Little Ajax appeared at the entrance to the city walls. He was accompanied by Teucer, who twitched repeatedly at his friend’s shoulder as they approached. Odysseus, though frustrated to see his challenger had mustered enough strength to show up for the race, noted the fragility with which he walked. Little Ajax’s face was bloodless beneath his tan and there was not a man amongst them who did not notice the weakened state of the warrior. Suddenly he paused, put a hand on his stomach and ran behind the stone wall that encircled the orchard. Moments later loud noises declared unceremoniously the cause of his distraction.
Despite the chill wind that blew down from the mountains, Odysseus threw off his cloak and stood naked on the dirt road, ready to begin the race back up to the palace. When he finally re-emerged, Little Ajax quickly shed his own clothing and took up his place beside his opponent.
‘You bastard,’ he growled beneath his breath. ‘You did this to me, didn’t you?’
‘I’ve evened things up,’ Odysseus admitted. ‘And now I’m going to beat you.’
Little Ajax’s innards groaned in response, sending a spasm of pain through him like a punch to the midriff. He seized his stomach with both hands and bit back a grunt of agony.
‘Don’t be so confident, you Ithacan swine. I know it was you in Penelope’s room, though you’re too cowardly to admit it. But even blaming one of your own men won’t save her for you. I’m still the fastest man in Greece.’
At that, and without waiting for the signal, he sprang off. Odysseus looked in disbelief as the short, muscular man sprinted away from him. Within moments he was already back up to the city walls.
‘Go on then!’ Tyndareus bellowed.
An instant later Odysseus was in pursuit, running as fast as his legs would propel him. He was a strong runner, confident of his ability to compete with anyone, and he had the endurance for longer races such as this one through the streets of Sparta. He was also exhilarated by the challenge and felt a new release of energy flooding his arteries; the muscles in his legs bore his awkward, heavy frame with ease, and as he used his arms to balance himself and build up a rhythm he could sense his pace quickening. Despite Little Ajax’s head start, the race was on.
The air rushed over Odysseus’s face and through his thick red hair, increasing the sensation of speed as new bursts of vigour fed his muscles and drove him on still faster, his lungs pumping the air in and out of his body, his heart pushing the blood through his straining chest and limbs. And yet he saw Little Ajax disappearing through the city gates ahead of him and knew his opponent was intent on losing him. He had felt nothing but confidence since seeing Penelope hand a small vial to a wine steward the night before; his sense of certainty had diminished only slightly when, to his surprise, Little Ajax had defied Clytaemnestra’s poison to show up for the race; but now it was draining rapidly away as he realized the truly unbelievable speed and power of his rival. The man’s reputation was well deserved.
For an instant Odysseus tasted fear. The bitter gall of imminent defeat now replaced the expectation of victory that had accompanied his dreams the night before. Though visibly weakened, Little Ajax had somehow found the strength not only to run fast, but to outstrip Odysseus and keep stretching the distance between them. Dispirited, Odysseus pressed on in his wake, through the city gates that loomed up large before him and past the lone guard in full armour. As he sprinted fiercely to catch up with the Locrian, his thoughts turned despairingly to Penelope and, with a stab of terror, he realized he was about to lose her for ever.
He gasped a prayer to Athena and focused his thoughts on Penelope, trying to forget the exhaustion in his limbs and remember all the things that he loved about her. All he could think of was the way she had humiliated him when they first met, but it was enough. Suddenly a surge of energy filled his muscles. Like a giant hand at his back, it pushed him on to meet the sharp slope of the main street of Sparta, up which he must pursue Little Ajax if he was to win the woman he loved. It wound its serpentine way up the hill on which the city was built, doubling back on itself several times until it reached the palace gates where Menelaus and Diomedes were waiting to greet the victor. The broad route had been cleared of townsfolk for the purpose of the race, so Odysseus knew that the figure disappearing around the bend ahead of him could be none other than Little Ajax.
Encouraged to see his opponent still within his grasp, Odysseus sensed his limbs held yet more in reserve and threw himself into the pursuit. He took the bend, his bare feet finding footholds in the rutted, sun-baked mud, and saw his quarry ahead of him, struggling now against the steepness of the hill. The sweat poured from Odysseus’s naked body as he lengthened his stride to close the gap further, but he doubted he was suffering to the same degree as his rival, whose rasping breath he could now hear just ahead of him.
The road bent back again to the left then suddenly gave way to a gentler angle. Both men found a new surge of speed and ran as fast as their flagging muscles would allow, their arms pumping desperately as they sought advantage over each other. They raced on through the winding streets, their hearts thumping horribly inside the stifling confines of their chests, and slowly Odysseus began to close the distance between them. Soon they were barely a sword’s length apart, and in desperation Little Ajax threw a punch with the side of his fist. It caught his pursuer in the ribs, but the blow lacked the strength to throw him off his tail. He repeated the tactic, this time moving nearer to the house-fronts on the right-hand side of the street, trapping his opponent before aiming a higher punch at his face. Odysseus, unable to distance himself without falling back, received the blow in his left eye. He lost his balance and crashed into the wall of a house, before stumbling to his knees in a cloud of dust.
He was up again in an instant, but his rival had already disappeared around the final bend in the road. Odysseus heard the cheering of the warriors who lined the last stretch of the race to the palace gates, and for a dark moment he sensed defeat.
Then, as his heart sank, a new resolve stirred within him. The thought of losing Penelope was something he could not accept, or even contemplate. It clanged against the solid core of his character and insisted the race was not yet over. A shock of anger erupted through him, pouring every last drop of remaining strength into his legs. He began to draw fresh speed from his tired limbs. The muscles tensed agonizingly, but with each thrust of his legs he sensed the burden of his body weight decrease. Suddenly they launched him around the final bend and back into the race.
A new roar greeted his appearance. He saw the Locrian turn in surprise, the panic filling his eyes as he knew Odysseus could still rob him of victory. Further on the gates of the palace were open, guarded on either side by Diomedes and Menelaus, waiting to announce the winner. The volume of spectators’ shouts was enormous, driving him on relentlessly until he was at his Little Ajax’s shoulder once more.
He threw the final reserves of his strength into a last push to be first to the gates. But whatever force had kept his legs moving at such speed and for so long suddenly drained away beneath him. He willed himself on, desperately, but felt only a faint impulse in response. It was barely enough. He fell sprawling into the mouth of the palace gateway, not knowing whether it had been sufficient for victory. The last thing he saw as his mind collapsed into darkness was Diomedes and Menelaus leaping in the air like madmen, to the sound of endless cheering from the warriors of every state in Greece.
Chapter Twenty-four
EPERITUS AND CLYTAEMNESTRA
Eperitus rode to a village below the foothills of the Taygetus Mountains, where he exchanged Icarius’s stallion for a blanket, a dagger, and a few days’ supply of bread and meat. It was a sorry trade, but he desperately needed food and a weapon. Besides, he excused himself, the horse would only be a burden if he was to hide out amongst the frowning ridges and inhospitable peaks above. Swinging the bag of food onto his shoulder, he started up the crumbling road that struggled into the coppery-brown mountains.
