by Glyn Iliffe
‘I asked who gave you permission.’
‘My lord, nobody gave us permission.’
‘Then you are trespassers.’
‘Not by choice. But if you would be willing to –’
‘How many ships?’
‘Enough to defend ourselves,’ Eperitus retorted, instantly regretting his tone. Odysseus would not have made that mistake. ‘Twelve ships, my lord. My king has sent me to –’
‘There are no kings on this island but me.’
‘A diadem doesn’t make you a king,’ Oicles challenged, succumbing to his temper.
Eperitus glared at his companion but noticed that the doors of the other dwellings in the village were beginning to open and more giant figures were emerging into the daylight. He turned quickly to Antiphates.
‘My king has sent me to plead for your mercy, King Antiphates. In the name of Zeus, the protector of strangers, we offer ourselves before you as suppliants and ask for your protection. Will you obey the will of the gods?’
‘Who or what is Zeus? I rule here, not Zeus,’ Antiphates said. He extended a long-nailed finger towards Oicles. ‘You! Come here, I have a message for this king of yours.’
Oicles looked at Eperitus, who accepted his spear from him and gave him a nod. The Ithacan walked towards the Laestrygonian king and stopped several paces from him. Suddenly Antiphates gave a roar and leapt down from the threshold. He seized Oicles by the throat and sank his teeth into his arm, tearing out a huge chunk of flesh that exposed the bone beneath. Oicles screamed horribly, but only for a moment, before Antiphates’s jaws closed about his face and silenced him forever.
Eperitus had been rooted to the ground with shock but quickly shook himself into action and hurled Oicles’s spear at Antiphates. The woman threw herself in front of the king and the point of the spear passed through her throat. She fell dead in an instant, crashing heavily to the ground at her master’s feet. Eperitus turned to Perimedes.
‘We have to tell the others. Run!’
Side by side, they dashed at the loose ring of over twenty Laestrygonians that had formed behind them. One rushed towards Perimedes with his jaws wide open and his arms outstretched. The Taphian threw his spear at the monster, piercing him below the left nipple and felling him at once. He drew his sword and ran on, yelling at the top of his voice. Two more Laestrygonians ran to block their escape. Eperitus thrust his spear into the first creature’s shoulder and it rolled away, bellowing with pain. There was no time to draw his sword before the second was upon him, grabbing his arm as he tried to twist aside. The strength in the monster’s fingers was unbearable and as it squeezed his upper arm he knew the bone was moments from breaking. Then Perimedes’s sword cleaved through the Laestrygonian’s wrist and the terrible pressure receded, though the severed hand still clung grimly on to Eperitus’s arm. He threw it back over his shoulder at the others.
They slipped through the last of the creatures and ran out of the village. The sound of pursuit was close behind, but for all the length and power of their limbs, the Laestrygonians lacked speed. As they neared the eaves of the forest, a figure appeared from the edge of the dell where the spring was hidden. It was the girl they had found drawing water. But now she was running to intercept them, her mouth opened wide to reveal the rows of hideous fangs that had first struck such fear into Eperitus. He drew his sword as she lumbered towards him and with a single swipe lopped off her head. A roar of dismay boomed out behind them, filling the whole meadow with its grief and anguish.
Eperitus reached the opening to the forest path and plunged into the gloom. He could hear Perimedes’s panting behind him, but no sound of pursuit. He did not stop to see if the Laestrygonians had given up.
‘Keep going, Perimedes,’ he shouted.
‘I’m not likely to stop now,’ came the gasped reply.
With reckless disregard for the twists and turns in the path and the roots the trees had pushed out across it, they ran until they reached the top of the last ridge that would lead them back down to the ships. With lungs bursting, Eperitus stopped to catch his breath. Then he heard the thunder of heavy footsteps accompanied by the snapping of branches and the hollering of angry voices. The sound was not behind him, though, but to his left.
Perimedes had caught up and was leaning against a tree trunk.
‘What is it?’
‘The Laestrygonians,’ Eperitus replied, suddenly realising their danger. ‘They’re cutting through the woods to intercept us before we reach the cliffs. Come on!’
They ran on, using the slope to increase their speed as they spotted the colossal shapes crashing through the trees beside and now slightly ahead of them. The path levelled again and became lighter as the canopy thinned. Eperitus saw an arch of daylight ahead, but as he threw his remaining energy into a final sprint, the black shape of a Laestrygonian stepped from the trees to block their escape. It was Antiphates, his jaws still red with Oicles’s blood. In his right hand was a club the size of a man’s leg, set about with crude iron studs. He swung it at Eperitus’s head, but the Ithacan anticipated the attack and ducked. The club smacked into a tree trunk with a hollow thud that brought down a shower of leaves. Eperitus recovered his poise first and unsheathed his sword. He slashed at Antiphates’s arm, but the Laestrygonian jumped back from the blow with surprising agility. Perimedes rushed his other flank and Antiphates batted him aside with a backwards swipe of his free hand, sending him crashing against a tree. Perimedes fell and lay still. Other Laestrygonians – scores of them as it seemed to Eperitus’s tired senses – were now stomping through the woods towards them. Casting aside caution, he dashed at Antiphates. The giant swung the club down at his head, but Eperitus sidestepped the blow and lunged with the point of his blade. It pierced the monster’s thigh and with a bellow of agony he dropped his weapon and collapsed against a tree. An answering roar came from the other Laestrygonians, who came sprinting to their king’s aid, heedless of the obstacles in their path. Eperitus hooked his fingers into the neck of Perimedes’s leather breastplate and hauled him out of the pile of leaves where he lay. Putting his arm around his shoulder, he dragged him as quickly as his tired legs would allow to the edge of the wood. The bright sunlight brought him back to his senses and together they stumbled to the clifftops above the cove where the Ithacan fleet lay at anchor.
‘Get out!’ Eperitus shouted down to them as hundreds of Laestrygonians emerged from the eaves of the wood. ‘Cut your anchor cables and get out to sea. Now!’
Chapter Twenty-Seven
THE DESTRUCTION OF THE FLEET
The galley crews looked up at Eperitus in confusion. Many had already taken smaller boats to the shingle beach at the foot of the cliffs and were making campfires or filling skins from a small waterfall that zigzagged down to the bay.
‘Get out! Get out!’ Eperitus repeated himself, his voice echoing from the rock walls.
Most just stared up at him, unable to see what he could see. A few sensed his urgency and jumped into the boats and began rowing back to the ships. But it was too late. The first Laestrygonians had reached the clifftops and were staring down at the helpless fleet. Yet more were streaming out from the woods behind them, several carrying long iron spears attached to ropes that were coiled over the giants’ shoulders. Others carried tall wicker baskets, the purpose of which Eperitus could not even guess at. The whole village must have been emptied, for there were women and children among them, every member of the tribe howling with fury. The Ithacans below looked up in horror at the monsters lining the cliffs around them.
‘Eperitus?’
Odysseus pushed himself up from the trunk of a small tree where he had been sleeping. His eyes widened at the grotesque figures on the other side of the cove, then he leapt to his feet and ran to Eperitus and Perimedes.
‘What in the name of Zeus are they?’
‘They killed Oicles,’ Perimedes began, his hands shaking as he took hold of the king’s shoulders. ‘They bit his face off.’
Odysseus eased him aside and joined Eperitus at the cliff’s edge. The screams of the Trojan women and the terrified cries of their children mingled with the urgent shouts of the Ithacans as they slashed the hawsers that tied them to the anchors and scrambled onto the rowing benches. Oars were sliding out into the still waters, but the galleys were so closely packed that they clattered against each other or snapped against the hulls of neighbouring vessels. The men trapped on shore were leaping into the water and swimming back to their ships. Several were caught in the frenzy of oars and screamed briefly before they were forced under. Then something large and grey fell from the cliffs. A helmsman looked up from the rudders as its shadow fell over him but was dead before he could cry out. The boulder crashed through the deck where he had stood, lifting the fore of the ship clean out of the water.
All along the cliff the Laestrygonians were tearing up rocks and hurling them at the hapless ships below. The shouts of terror and the screams of pain and death were almost lost beneath the crash of splintering wood and the rush of exploding water. Eperitus turned to Odysseus, whose face was pale as he watched the destruction of his fleet.
‘We have to do something,’ he said.
‘Do what? What can three men do against those?’
‘Look!’
Perimedes pushed his way between them and pointed at the Laestrygonians. The purpose of the iron spears and the wicker baskets had become horribly clear. The first galley to have been struck was already sinking, and as the survivors swam towards the other ships the Laestrygonians threw their spears at them. It seemed that every one found a target, and as the Laestrygonians pulled on the ropes, both weapon and prey were hauled back up to the clifftops. Here the giants would pull the struggling victims from the barbed tips and toss them to the women and children waiting behind. The dead and dying were devoured in a frenzy, but those that might survive were thrown alive into the wicker baskets. Two in every three were women.
‘Why are they targeting the women?’ Perimedes asked. ‘Why would they do that?’
Eperitus thought he understood, but it took Odysseus to voice the awful answer.
‘Because they’re going to breed them.’
‘Then we must stop them,’ Eperitus said, reaching for his sword.
‘No,’ Odysseus replied. ‘It’s too late for them now. We have to get back to the ship.’
Eperitus stared at the ranks of Laestrygonians, some of whom were descending the cliffs on rough-hewn steps similar to those he and Odysseus had climbed earlier. Two more galleys had been holed and were sinking, while the decks of all the others were strewn with dead. Many had lost the majority of their oars to the falling rocks, though the remaining crews still struggled to row their way out of the carnage. Eperitus feared their efforts would be in vain unless the one remaining ship – Odysseus’s own galley – could come to their rescue. What they could do to help he did not know, but Odysseus would think of a way to save them. He had to.
‘Let’s go before the Laestrygonians notice us,’ he said.
They descended the cliff to where their galley was safely moored outside the entrance to the cove. Fear and confusion were evident on the faces of the whole crew.
‘What’s happening?’ Eurybates asked. ‘It’s all I could do to stop the crew cutting us free and rowing into the harbour.’
‘That’s exactly what we’re going to do,’ Eperitus answered him. ‘The fleet’s being attacked. Any man with a bow and arrow, make your weapons ready and get into the prow. I need a dozen more with ropes: there are a lot of men in the water and we might even get a cable to one of the other ships and tow it free.’
Odysseus drew his sword and cut the rope that tied the ship to the shore.
‘Get back to the oars,’ he shouted as men left the benches to fetch ropes and weapons. ‘Eurybates, take us out to sea as quickly as you can.’
An uproar of voices greeted the order.
‘If you want to live, do as I command!’
‘Get to your oars,’ Eurybates called, and reluctantly the crew returned to the benches.
As the galley was eased free of the shingle, Eperitus forced his way through the confusion towards the prow. Astynome appeared before him, her face full of concern, but in his anger he barely heard what she was asking him. He moved past her and found Odysseus clutching the bow rail.
‘What in Zeus’s name are you doing?’ he said, grabbing him by the arm.
Odysseus shook him free.
‘I’m doing what’s necessary.’
‘Necessary? Your whole army is being massacred inside that harbour! What’s necessary is that we save as many of them as we can.’
‘Damn it, what do you think I’m doing?’
Eperitus seized hold of Odysseus’s cloak.
‘Those men fought loyally for you for ten years. They’re your countrymen, your friends, and you’re going to abandon them?’
The spark of anger passed to Odysseus, who knocked Eperitus’s hand aside and pushed him away.
‘They’re already dead. Can’t you see that? They’re dead, Eperitus, and if we row into that cauldron we’ll be dead too. But right now we’re alive and I’m going to keep us that way.’
‘Then save your own skin. It’s what you’re best at.’
Slowly the galley began to pull away from the shore. Eurybates turned her across the entrance to the cove, though the high cliffs on either side prevented the crew from seeing what was happening within, making the constant screams and smashing of wood even more horrific in their imaginations. As Eperitus watched, seething with fury, he saw men swimming from the mouth of the bay. Without thinking, he cast off his sword and cloak and dived into the sea.
The cold water closed about him, muffling his hearing and darkening his vision. As he broke the surface again he saw the splashing of the men ahead of him and swam directly towards them. He gave no thought to what he would do when he reached the mouth of the bay, or how he might rescue any survivors escaping the slaughter within. All he knew was that he had to do something. Just as clearly as Odysseus believed the best thing he could do was save the men on his own ship, Eperitus knew he could not leave the others to be massacred. It seemed a long time before the cliffs were towering above him, time in which many more of his countrymen would have been crushed by rocks or harpooned by the Laestrygonians’ iron spears. He almost collided with the first man, but when he took his arm he realised he was already dead. He pushed him aside and swam on. Another man called to him for help. As Eperitus reached him he saw that he was barely able to keep his head above water. He fumbled to undo the clasp of his cloak and realised he was wearing a leather breastplate. Drawing his dagger, Eperitus cut the laces on one side and prised the armour away.
‘Swim for the galley,’ he gasped, pointing towards the mast still visible over the waves.
He swam on, not knowing whether the man had enough strength left to make it to the ship. He passed more men, all of them powerful swimmers, and pointed them to the galley. One called for him to turn back, but he ignored him. Now the cliffs were towering up on either side of him and he could see the destruction inside the harbour. A ship had crashed into the foot of one of the cliffs and was blocking the escape of two others behind it. Of the other eight vessels in the fleet he could see nothing but sunken hulls and here and there a mast protruding from the surface of the water. Even as he reached out and grabbed a piece of wood – the wreckage of a rowing bench – he witnessed a hail of boulders fall onto the remaining ships. The screams of the dying were almost unendurable, but he knew he had to go on. He had to do something.
A body bumped into him. He was about to push it away, then realised the man was still alive. His face was covered with blood and he was groaning with pain.
‘Here, take hold of this,’ Eperitus told him, guiding his hands to the piece of bench. ‘Can you move your legs? Then kick out to sea. Odysseus’s galley is there if you can reach it.’
Or at least he hoped it was.
The man wrapped his arms about the wreckage and Eperitus swam on towards the nearest galley. The vessel had been holed by a rock and was settling against the bottom of the harbour. Grabbing one of the rudders, Eperitus pulled himself half out of the water and looked at the terrible scene before him. The surface of the water was covered with broken wood, shattered oars, sails, rigging, dead animals and the bodies of men, women and children. Many, though, were still alive, some swimming for the harbour entrance and others crying out for help as the harpoons of the Laestrygonians plucked them from the water.
A few Ithacans were still leaping from the sides of the shattered hulls as they sank. In the stern of the nearest was Selagos, with an unconscious Eurylochus in his arms. The Taphian jumped into the water, disappeared momentarily below the surface, then reappeared shaking the water from his eyes. Eurylochus bobbed up beside him, still unconscious, and Selagos threw an arm about him and swam with his free arm towards the mouth of the harbour. Behind them, on the narrow stretch of shingle at the foot of the cliffs, several Laestrygonians were wading into the water and pulling out the living. Some they tossed onto the beach to be eaten later or kept for breeding, others they sank their rows of sharp teeth into and drained their blood before devouring them. A few Ithacans tried to fight them off with swords or broken oars, but it was impossible to swim and wield a weapon at the same time. The Laestrygonians snapped their necks or crushed their skulls with heavy clubs.
As Eperitus watched, one of the monsters set his gaze on Selagos. With a roar, he waded out into the water towards him. Another followed, hoping for more easy prey. Eperitus felt for his sword and remembered he had left it on the deck of the galley. Then he saw a corpse in the water, its cold fist closed tight around the shaft of a spear. He reached across and pulled the weapon free.
The first Laestrygonian had reached Selagos, who released his hold on Eurylochus and turned to look up as it reached into the water and pulled him out. Despite his hatred for the Taphian, Eperitus could not stand by and watch him murdered. He tried to pull himself further up the side of the sunken ship he was holding onto, gripping the rudder with one hand and setting one foot against the submerged hull, while with his other hand he pulled back the spear and took aim. At the last instant he lost his grip and slipped back down into the water. Then he saw the gleam of metal in Selagos’s hand. As the monster’s long jaw opened to reveal gore-flecked rows of teeth, Selagos plunged the point of his sword into the roof of its mouth and out through the top of its head. It fell dead into the water on top of Selagos, who emerged a moment later wiping his eyes and choking. Immediately, he reached across and took hold of the neck of Eurylochus’s tunic, pulling him back into a half-embrace as he continued towards the mouth of the cove, unaware the second Laestrygonian was wading through the flotsam behind him. Only when the giant’s shadow fell across him did the Taphian realise his danger. He turned to face his pursuer – this time without his sword, which remained in the skull of the first Laestrygonian – and at the same moment Eperitus threw his spear. It found the base of the creature’s throat and passed through his spine, killing it instantly. Selagos turned once more and began swimming.