The Gates Of Troy

by Iliffe, Glyn

  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 towa
rds 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.

  Eperitus leapt over his writhing body and helped Clytaemnestra and Iphigenia pull open the gates. They swung back with a groan to reveal the road – a dull grey in the darkness before dawn – and the colossal walls rising up to the right. Below them was the ramshackle town where their horses were waiting for them.

  ‘Father,’ Iphigenia said. ‘Your spear.’

  Eperitus stroked his daughter’s soft hair, then took the weapon from her hands and started down the road towards the town below. Clytaemnestra was at his side and Iphigenia slightly ahead of them, half-running in her eagerness to leave Mycenae, but as they approached the furthest corner of the walls a man appeared and slid down the rocky slope to stand in the road ahead of them.

  ‘Stop where you are!’ he ordered.

  It was Talthybius. Though he stood confidently before them, he was unarmed and wore no armour.

  ‘He must have come through the sally port in the north wall,’ Clytaemnestra hissed in Eperitus’s ear. ‘Don’t let him stand in our way. Knock him down if you have to and let’s be gone!’

  But before Eperitus could even think to attack the herald, the chinking of metal and the soft slipping of leather sandals on stone announced the arrival of seven more men on the slope to their right. They quickly rushed down the steep incline and formed a line behind Talthybius, sealing off the only escape from the city.

  Eperitus could tell by the overlapping plates of their ceremonial body armour and the boars’ tusks on their helmets that they were members of Agamemnon’s elite guard, and would not be knocked aside as easily as the militiamen at the gates. But as he felt his hope diminish, Eperitus knew he could not allow them to prevent Iphigenia escaping the terrible fate that Agamemnon had planned for her. He felt his old, dogged sense of determination fill the void that hope had vacated, and with a dark look in his eyes stepped forward.

  ‘I’ve no fight with you,’ he announced, raising the palm of his hand in sign of parley. ‘Stand aside and let us pass.’

  ‘As one of Odysseus’s men you can do as you please,’ Talthybius replied. ‘But the queen and her daughter are forbidden to leave Mycenae.’

  ‘Iphigenia’s life is in peril, Talthybius. I’m taking her and her mother to a place of safety, and for that reason you must let us go.’

  The herald shook his head dismissively. ‘There’s no danger to the girl as long as Agamemnon is here. Now, stand aside, Eperitus, or face the consequences.’

  ‘Damn your stupidity, Talthybius,’ Eperitus spat. ‘Don’t you realize it’s Agamemnon she’s in danger from? The king has lost his senses: he’s going to take Iphigenia to Aulis and sacrifice her to the gods!’

  The self-assured smile was swept from Talthybius’s face and the men behind him looked at each other uncertainly. Eperitus turned to Iphigenia, standing behind him with her mother’s hands on her shoulders, and saw the look of shock and dread on her face. He tried to comfort her with a smile but could hardly disguise his own fear and growing sense of panic.

  ‘Don’t be absurd, Eperitus,’ Talthybius said incredulously. ‘The king would never kill his own daughter. Even in his darkest dreams he wouldn’t do such a thing.’

  ‘But it’s true,’ Clytaemnestra retorted. ‘And Agamemnon’s dreams have become very dark of late. Calchas has told him that the only way to lift the storms at Aulis is to sacrifice his own daughter, and in his madness Agamemnon believes him. That’s why I implored Eperitus to escort us from the city – and if you try to stop us, you and all your men will be committing murder.’

  ‘Don’t listen to them, Talthybius,’ said a voice from the top of the slope. They looked up to see Calchas standing at the corner of the city wall. ‘The king is no more mad than I am, and if you let the girl escape you’ll be held accountable for preventing the war against Troy.’

  Talthybius’s face was filled with doubt as he looked from Calchas to Clytaemnestra and back again. ‘Then is what the queen says true?’ he asked the priest. ‘Does Agamemnon intend to kill his own daughter?’

  Calchas pointed to the heavens, where the darkness was being pushed back by the light of the new day. ‘The gods must be appeased!’ he cried. ‘Only the girl’s blood will satisfy them, and unless you want the fleet to remain at Aulis until it rots then you will do as your king demands.’

  Talthybius looked across at Eperitus and shook his head apologetically. Then he stepped back and waved his men forward. Eperitus looked down at Iphigenia, his face stern and sad.

  ‘You always wanted to see me fight, Jenny,’ he said, then laid one of his spears on the paved road and turned to face the line of approaching Mycenaeans.

  The soldiers spread across the road and prepared to fight. They eased the tall shields from their shoulders and slipped their left arms through the leather grips, altering their stance so that the weight was balanced evenly. Their reserve spears were cast into a pile at the side of the road and the remaining weapons turned towards Eperitus, the sharpened bronze tips gleaming coldly in the morning light.

  Eperitus watched the men plant their feet firmly on the paved road and grip the shafts of their spears. The overlapping plates of their body armour guarded every natural weakness from the neck to the groin, while the layer of boars’ tusks on their bronze helmets would deflect almost any blow. More concerning, though, were the eyes that stared out from beneath the ornate helmets: they were confident but cautious, and it seemed to Eperitus that every one of the men facing him was a skilled and natural fighter. If the defence provided by their armour would not prove too difficult to penetrate, then their training and experience might. Nevertheless, he positioned himself in front of them and took his spear in both hands.

  ‘Throw down your weapons, man,’ said one of the Mycenaeans, a short, stocky soldier with a long beard. There was sympathy in his hard eyes. ‘Don’t make us kill you.’

  Eperitus took two paces forward. The three men in the middle of the line stepped back, while the two on either side edged round to form a horseshoe about him. Iphigenia stooped to pick up Eperitus’s second spear, but was grabbed by her mother, who pulled her back and held her tightly. As the Mycenaeans were still moving, Eperitus lunged to the left with his shield held out before him. The four-fold leather smashed into the nearest soldier, pushing him over the edge of the road to fall crashing down the gentle slope beyond. In the same instant he swung the shaft of his spear at the face of the next soldier, who was already turning to meet the attack. It caught him above the neckguard, causing him to drop his spear and stagger backwards, dark blood oozing out between his fingers as he clutched at his injured mouth.

  The remaining Mycenaeans gave a shout of anger and surged forward. The nearest struck low, stabbing with the point of his spear at Eperitus’s groin. The blow was intended to kill him, and as he swept it aside with his shield Eperitus knew the battle would be to the death. He lunged at his opponent, thrusting his spear into th
e gap where the warrior had leaned forward to attack. The point would normally have found the soft flesh above the thigh, crippling the man if not killing him, but instead was turned aside with a dull scrape by the lowest plate of body armour.

  The man stepped back, shaken by the skill and ferocity of Eperitus’s attack. Two others took his place, striking simultaneously, one high from the left and the other low to the right. Eperitus sensed rather than saw the approach of both spear-points, instinctively raising his shield to deflect the first while twisting aside so that the other slipped past him. He felt the ash shaft brushing past his hip, and at the same time heard a scream of alarm from Iphigenia. Eperitus looked across to see one of the guards brushing Clytaemnestra aside and seizing hold of his daughter.

  With a roar of anger, he swung the edge of his shield into the face of one of his opponents, breaking his nose and sending him stumbling backwards. The other rushed forward, only to receive the head of Eperitus’s spear in his thigh. It passed through his leg and was torn from Eperitus’s grip as the man fell dying to the ground, the dark blood pumping thick and fast from the pierced artery. Eperitus jumped across the screaming warrior and, casting aside his cumbersome shield, rushed to help Iphigenia.

  ‘Stand back!’ he ordered as Clytaemnestra tried to pull the tall, muscular soldier away from her daughter.

  The man’s shield was slung across his back and he had thrown his spear aside in the struggle with the child and her mother. He turned at the sound of Eperitus’s voice, but on seeing that his enemy was unarmed stepped forward with his fists raised and a grim smile on his face. Eperitus dodged the first blow, which swept past his left ear, and reacted with an upward punch to the man’s nose. The Mycenaean tottered sideways, stunned and blinking, but was quick to regain his senses. With a shake of his head, he turned and raised his fists again. Eperitus moved around him so that he was standing in front of Iphigenia.