by Hilary Green
I answered him, ‘I am Alkmaion, son of Sillos, King of Pylos. And this is the Count Alectryon, son of Eteocles, a Companion to the King.’
I saw from his eyes that he was surprised and impressed. He said quickly, ‘My dear Prince Alkmaion – I may say cousin, may I not? – my father and I are most honoured. He had already bidden me offer you our hospitality but now I know he will be doubly anxious to make you welcome. Let us go up to the palace at once. Some of these men will bring your belongings.’
He turned to lead the way but I stopped him with a gesture. I would gladly have avoided what was to follow but I knew I could not.
‘Prince Opheltas, before I accept your father’s hospitality there is something he should know. Will you allow me a few words in private?’
He looked puzzled but replied, ‘Certainly’ and we went a little way along the beach until we were out of earshot. Then I said, ‘I must tell you, Prince, the reason for my journey. When you have heard it you may feel it is better if I remain and sleep by my ship rather than coming up to the palace. If so, I shall quite understand.’
Frowning he replied, ‘Say on, son of Sillos.’
‘I travel on the orders of the Great Goddess. At home in Pylos I was unfortunate enough to commit an act of sacrilege during the great Spring Festival. It was quite unintentional, I beg you to believe that, but in order to escape the anger of the Goddess I must go to the Holy Islands to the south west where, She has told me, I shall receive purification. I believe Her favour will rest upon anyone who helps me in my voyage, but if you prefer not to take under your roof one who is defiled I shall understand.’
He hesitated for a moment, biting his lips in indecision. Then he said, ‘It was an accident in some part of the ritual only? There is no blood guilt on your head?’
‘No, none.’
He nodded, as if satisfied. ‘Then, as you say, I can only think the Goddess will look with favour on those who help you. I thank you for taking me into your confidence, but I feel sure that my father would still wish me to bid you welcome.’
I thanked him with relief and we set off for the palace, Opheltas having given orders that Kerkios and his men should be well cared for and the chests containing our personal belongings brought up after us. In the palace courtyard the King was waiting for us, his second son Thaleus, a boy a little younger than myself, at his side. I saluted them respectfully.
‘Greetings, King Persepolis, son of the wise Telemachos and grandson of far-famed Odysseus. My father, Sillos, greets you though me.’
He came forward and took me by the hand. ‘My dear Prince Alkmaion, this is a delightful and unexpected honour. The houses of Nestor and Odysseus have ever been friends, since our forefathers fought together at Troy, but it is years now since I saw any member of my dear wife’s family. You are most welcome.’
After we had bathed and put on fresh clothing we joined the king and his family in the megaron where we were entertained to a royal feast. When we had eaten I called for my sea chest and presented the gifts which my father and other members of my kindred had entrusted to me – bracelets of gold, a bronze mixing bowl and, most precious of all, a golden drinking cup whose rim was ornamented with helmeted heads in black enamel. This last was reputed to have been among the treasures looted from Troy and must once have graced the table of King Priam himself. In return Alectryon and I both received gifts from Persepolis – necklaces of precious amber from the far north and lengths of scented woollen cloth woven from the fleece of the hardy sheep of Ithaca and, for my personal use, a gold cup which had once belonged to the gallant Odysseus himself. After that Persepolis ordered the bard to sing but my eyelids were already drooping and I was glad when Opheltas led us out into the porch where beds had been prepared for us in the cool air.
Next morning Persepolis would have detained us, suggesting a hunt to be followed by games and other entertainments, but I pleaded the urgency of my mission and by midday we were at sea again. The breeze had fallen light but it was sufficient to make it worthwhile putting up the sail and under it the ship slid along all day until we came in the evening to the island of Corcyra, where we made camp.
During a good part of the day I had been turning over in my mind the plan that had come to me before we left home. If it was to be put into practice, this was the time. So, when the evening meal was over and we were lying around the fire, I looked across the straits towards the mountains of the mainland and said, ‘That’s where the Dorians live, isn’t it Kerkios?’
He followed my gaze and nodded. ‘That’s right, sir. Their nearest settlement, Cresphontes’s village, is only an hour or two’s sailing time from here.’
‘Good,’ I said. ‘Then we shall be there before the sun gets too hot tomorrow.’
His head snapped round towards me. On my other side I was aware of Alectryon’s being raised more slowly, as if he was not altogether surprised by what he had heard.
Kerkios said, ‘My instructions were to take you to the Holy Islands, Prince Alkmaion. There was no mention of visiting the Dorians.’
‘Your instructions,’ I returned sharply, ‘were to place yourself under my command. In matters concerning the ship I respect your authority, but you steer the course I choose. Our ultimate destination is the Holy Islands, but that does not stop us visiting the Dorians on the way.’
I had an uncomfortable feeling that Alectryon was mildly amused to hear me asserting my authority, but he spoke up in my support.
‘The Prince is right, of course. Besides, what harm can it do to pay Cresphontes a visit? I understood that his people have never been hostile – although I gather that you have detected a change in them.’
(I had long ago told him of Kerkios’ report and my subsequent conversation with the bard Sirios.)
Kerkios said reluctantly, ‘I will do whatever the Prince commands, of course. But I beg you to believe,’ he looked me in the eyes, ‘that what I told the King was not mere fancy – whatever the Lawagetas may have thought. Is it wise, do you think, to place the person of the Crown Prince in the hands of these people?’
I answered, ‘Kerkios, I believe all you said. That is why I wish to see for myself what is going on. But as far as placing my person in their hands is concerned, whatever do you imagine they are going to do with me? If they thought of holding me to ransom, or some such thing, surely they would realise that they would gain nothing in the long run but my father’s enmity. They do far better out of trade with us than anything they could hope for from that.’
Alectryon put in, ‘It is true Kerkios. What possible advantage could there be to them in an act of hostility? I cannot see that there is any danger.’
Kerkios shrugged. ‘It is for the Prince to command.’ He got up and walked away down the beach, obviously put out at being over-ruled.
Alectryon said, ‘Why did you not mention this plan to me before?’
I dropped my eyes. ‘I suppose because I thought you might try to stop me.’
‘Then you think yourself that it is dangerous?’
‘No. Not necessarily.’
‘Why else should I try to prevent you?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. A sense of duty – something boring like that.’
He grinned. ‘You do me an injustice. I am as keen for adventure as you, and I must admit I’m curious to find out what has disturbed old Kerkios. Besides, if there is something going on, your uncle Paion is more likely to pay attention to us than to him.’
I caught his eye. ‘I’m sorry. I should have trusted you.’
He lifted an eyebrow ironically. ‘Yes. I thought you might, by now.’
The next morning we set course for the Dorian village. We found it at the mouth of a fast-flowing river, on the narrow strip of land between the mountains and the sea; a collection of rough huts around a single stone-built dwelling which I guessed to be the house of the ruler. Around the village were a few plots of cultivated land but behind it the foothills rose steeply, clothed in heavy forest. As the
sailors rowed the ship into the mouth of the river, straining against the current to beach her on the sweep of sand below the houses, people began to gather on the beach. Mostly they were poorly dressed in tunics of rough wool but as we drew nearer I could see a group of older men whose garments proclaimed them to be somewhat higher in rank.
As the keel jarred on the sand Kerkios said, ‘Let me go ashore first, Prince. They know me well.’
I assented and he went forward and jumped down onto the beach. I waited, glancing at Alectryon. We had both armed ourselves as a precaution and hung our long bronze swords from our shoulders. I found myself thinking that he looked his best in armour, the bronze plates of his corselet echoing the red-gold of his hair.
He caught my eye and said, ‘Well, Kerkios seems to be getting a friendly enough welcome. But where are all the young men, I wonder? All those I can see are obviously peasants. Where are their warriors?’
‘Good question,’ I agreed. ‘Let’s go ashore. Kerkios has had time enough to explain who we are.’
When we reached the beach the man to whom Kerkios had been talking came forward to greet us. He was an elderly man with grizzled hair but still upright and dignified in his bearing. He spoke our language but with a strange guttural accent that made it difficult to understand at first. He introduced himself as Lampadon, uncle to Cresphontes, and explained that the prince and the other young men were away on a hunting expedition but were expected back the next day. Then he led us to the stone house in the centre of the village. It was a simple dwelling, consisting solely of a porch, an ante-room and a large hall with a rounded end opposite the door across which hung a curtain of hides. This, presumably, was the prince’s sleeping quarters.
We were offered chairs of plain rough wood and presently a shy, down-trodden looking girl with dark hair hanging in tangles about her face brought a bowl and a jug of cold water and washed our hands and feet. We were not offered a bath and my nose told me that the Dorians were not much given to bathing. After we had eaten the simple food we were offered and exchanged a few commonplace remarks conversation dwindled. Then Alectryon suggested that we might look round the village and instantly I sensed a stiffening in their manner. I had begun to think that we were wasting our time but now my suspicions were revived.
They took us out into the midday heat and patiently conducted us around the little huts and the fields of poor crops. No wonder they found our curiosity suspicious, I reflected. There was nothing to see. The only point of interest was down by the shore, where a ship was being built. I saw Kerkios purse his lips with contempt at her clumsy construction but he caught my eye and gave me a meaningful nod. I noticed that a little group had gathered around our own trim vessel and were studying her curiously.
Kerkios muttered in my ear, ‘The question is, will any of them know how to sail that tub when she’s finished.’
As we returned to the village Alectryon touched my arm. Ahead of us a path led round the shoulder of a hill and disappeared into a valley on the far side. A woman was walking up it carrying a basket.
‘That’s the third,’ he murmured. ‘I wonder where they’re going.’
‘Taking food to a shepherd or a herdsman up in the hills?’ I suggested.
‘Maybe,’ he replied, ‘but I was just remembering what Kerkios said.’ He turned to our hosts. ‘Your flocks and herds are up in the hills, I suppose?’
‘Naturally,’ came the reply.
‘And that path leads up to the pastures?’
It was an innocent enough question but I saw their faces stiffen. Then Lampadon said, ‘No, it leads to the sanctuary of a god. It may be visited only by one of our tribe – and then only by those who are initiates.’
Later that evening, after a meal of rather tasteless stew and black bread, our hosts caused couches to be spread for us in the hall. Left to ourselves, we talked for a long time, but in the end had to admit that we had learned nothing and might as well be on our way as soon as we had paid our respects to Cresphontes.
At length we fell silent and I could soon tell from their breathing that Kerkios and Dexeus were fast asleep. Alectryon, I had learned, was a quiet sleeper. It was hard to tell whether he was awake or not. It was hot in the hall and stuffy from the smoke of the fire. I tossed about and threw off my coverings. By craning my neck I could look up through the hole in the roof above the central hearth and see the stars. The night sky looked cool and clear.
I got up quietly and reached for my kilt. Alectryon did not speak so I concluded he was asleep too. I picked my way to the door and slipped out into the ante-room. At the open doorway that led out to the porch I stopped abruptly. A few yards away a man sat on the bare ground, facing the entrance. In the moonlight I could see the gleam of a sword laid across his knees. He was gazing up at the stars and did not see me and I drew back quickly and sat down to consider the implications.
Clearly, the guard was not there for our safety, for then he would have been looking outwards. So obviously he was there to see that we remained in the building. A moment’s panic seized me. Had we let ourselves be taken prisoner, without the least resistance? Then common sense reasserted itself. It would be too easy for the four of us to over-power one guard and the commotion would have brought our crew running to our assistance. I reckoned they would have been a match for any of those we had seen about the village that day. In which case, the man was simply there to see that we did not go wandering about unsupervised. There was something we were not supposed to see – and I immediately determined to find out what it was.
I crept to the doorway again and squatted on the floor to peer out. The guard was still watching the sky but he was too close for me to slip out without attracting his attention. Then a movement to one side caught my eye. A second man crossed the space in front of the building and the first rose to meet him. The guard was changing. The two stood together, speaking in low tones, and the first pointed to the sky. While they were both looking up I slipped round the doorpost and scuttled round the corner of the building. Then I stood under a tree and made water so that if I had been seen I could show a reason for leaving the hall. My heart was thumping, but there was no sound of alarm or pursuit. After a moment I peered round the corner again. The new guard had taken the sword and was walking up and down. The other man had disappeared, presumably gone home to bed.
So far so good, but I had no plans for my next step. I sat down with my back to the still warm stones to think it out. The only place we had not seen was the valley beyond the ridge so if there was a secret it must be there. I was tempted to set out directly up the path but I remembered how Kerkios had been waylaid and cast round for an alternative route. It struck me that, if I could slip out of the village unseen, I could follow the river inland and then climb the ridge nearer to the point where it joined the main mass of the mountain range. This should bring me to the head of the forbidden valley and it was unlikely that they would expect anyone to approach from that direction.
I got to my feet and moved stealthily along the wall to the back of the building. From here I slipped silently through the cluster of huts, keeping carefully to the shadows. Once a dog growled from a doorway, sending my heart thudding in my ears, but otherwise no one stirred and I reached the riverbank safely. There was a path here, quite broad and well used, and I set off up it at a good pace, aware that to complete my exploration and return before dawn I should have to hurry. There was still the little matter of getting back into the hall without being seen but I put that to the back of my mind. My blood was running fast and I was light footed and perhaps a little light headed with excitement.
The moon was in her first quarter so there was not a great deal of light, but on the open ground by the river I could see my way quite well. It was when the valley narrowed and the trees closed in around me that I began to find myself stumbling more and more often on rocks and roots. My elation began to fade. The night breeze rustled in the trees, merging with the hiss and splash of the river. Other than th
at there was no sound, but I found myself remembering that there must be wolves in these hills. I laid my hand on the dagger at my belt and wished I had brought my sword with me.
At length I came to a standstill. From the village it had seemed an easy thing to judge where to leave the river and start my climb up the ridge but here, close under the flank of the hill, it was not so simple. I hesitated for a few moments longer and then took a deep breath and struck off the path, climbing at an angle up the hillside.
At once I began to realise how foolhardy my enterprise was. Under the trees the darkness was almost impenetrable and the ground was rocky and treacherous. I struggled on, trying to keep always uphill but sometimes forced out of my way by old watercourses and gullies full of thorny undergrowth. It seemed hours before I finally scrambled clear of the trees and out onto the open hillside. A glance at the sky told me that the night was well advanced, but now I was out in the open I was able to make better progress. I continued to climb, trying to ignore my growing weariness, and reached the crest of the ridge at last. Here I paused to get my breath and consider the situation. From the position of the stars I knew that there were not many hours of darkness left. If I turned back now I might just make it back to the village before dawn, but it seemed unlikely, and the whole wretched effort of the night would have been wasted. On the other hand, if I went on I might get a look at whatever was in the valley at first light. The problem was to explain my absence when I got back. I decided to say that I had woken early and gone to bathe in the river. A quick dip on the way back would lend colour to my story. It crossed my mind to consider Alectryon’s anxiety when he awoke to find me gone and my stomach clenched. I wished, most profoundly, that I had woken him to come with me.
Having re-planned my actions, I set off again, this time down hill towards the trees that clothed the sides of the forbidden valley. By the time I reached them the first faint light of dawn was showing in the sky beyond the mountains. Aided by this thinning of the darkness I made my way through the trees and came at last to a point where I could look down upon the valley floor.
