The Gates Of Troy (4 page)

‘I wish you’d stop doing that, Arceisius,’ Eperitus snapped as the stick smacked down again just behind him. ‘The animal’s moving along just fine as it is; there’s no need to keep hitting the poor thing.’

‘Sorry, sir,’ Arceisius replied, his already ruddy complexion reddening slightly. ‘It’s just habit.’

‘And a touch of nerves?’ Eperitus suggested. He took a deep breath to calm his own anxiety before offering his squire a reassuring smile. ‘Don’t worry. Odysseus won’t let us down. He never has yet.’

He turned back to look at the path stretching out ahead of them. Not much further along the trees thickened and the trail narrowed – a good place for concealment, but lacking the width and space required for an ambush – then shortly afterwards it swept around a spur of the hill and disappeared from sight. According to the locals, the bandits had already struck twice at the point just beyond the spur, and that was where Eperitus expected them to be waiting now. His unnaturally sharp eyesight had already spied figures moving furtively through the trees on the upper slopes – drawn by the sound of the bell about the donkey’s neck – and from there they must have noticed the large leather bags hanging from the animal’s flanks. An unprotected merchant and his young assistant would be too tempting a target to ignore.

They passed through the narrow stretch of path without incident, but as the trees thinned again and the trail turned around the spur of the hill, Eperitus noticed straight away that the birds were no longer singing and an unusual stillness had descended about them. At the same time, his keen senses picked out glimpses of sun-tanned skin amongst the clumps of foliage sprouting in unnatural places, the barely visible outlines of helmets nudging above the tops of boulders, and the thick, controlled breathing of several nervous men behind the trees and rocks. Eperitus absorbed all these things in a moment, telling him that at least twenty bandits were concealed on the slope above him. The trap was about to be sprung and suddenly, even though no enemies had yet revealed themselves, he felt his old battle instinct take hold of him, pouring new energy into his limbs and tensing his body like a bowstring.

Then a man stepped out from behind a large boulder a few paces ahead of them. ‘Stop where you are,’ he ordered in a nasal voice, holding up his hands, ‘and get down from the donkey.’

Eperitus leaned forward and looked at the short, unimpressive bandit before him, but made no move to dismount. The man’s comrades were emerging from their hiding places to his left – some of them armed with bows and aiming their arrows directly at him and Arceisius – and it was obvious that the slightest wrong movement would bring swift death. Nonetheless, he had to fight the instinct to throw aside his cloak and draw his sword. Everything, he knew, depended on him holding his nerve.

‘I can’t do that, I’m afraid,’ he replied in a calm voice. ‘I’m on an important mission for the king, and time is of the essence.’

The bandit’s eyes narrowed for a moment, then he placed his hands on his hips and leaned back, raising his eyebrows quizzically.

‘A mission for the king?’ he said with mock awe. ‘Really? Well, I’m sorry to inconvenience his lordship, but we have need of the royal donkey and all the possessions of his servants.’

His comment was followed by a ripple of laughter from the men on the slope above.

‘Normally I’d be glad to help the starving and impoverished,’ Eperitus responded, throwing a casual glance back across the file of Thessalians, ‘but I’m already on an errand of mercy. You see, the king’s been told that his subjects on Samos are being beaten and robbed by a band of outlaws, and he’s sent me to find them.’

‘Well, it seems to me, my friend, that you
have
found them.’

Eperitus smiled. ‘I don’t think so. You see, the men I’m looking for were reported to be fearsome cut-throats – brutal, heavily armed men of violence, worthy of my skills as a bandit-hunter. Perhaps you can tell me where they are?’

‘By Ares’s sword, you’ve got a nerve,’ the man hissed, clenching his fists and scowling. ‘We’re the only damned cut-throats you’ll find on this pathetic rock, and if you’ve come looking for us then you’d better state your purpose – or else get off that cursed animal and start stripping, before you find an arrow in your throat.’

Eperitus remained where he was. He could sense Arceisius’s nervous fidgeting at his side and placed a calming hand on his squire’s shoulder.

‘I can’t say I’m not disappointed,’ he sighed, ‘but if you’re the men I’ve been sent to find, then you’d better listen to me. King Odysseus of Ithaca, son of Laertes, offers you free passage back to the Peloponnese. If you go now, you’ll not be harmed and you’ll even be allowed to keep your armour and weapons.’

Some of the men on the slopes laughed incredulously, while others shouted angrily at the audacity of the man before them.

‘And if we refuse?’ asked the short bandit, his voice even more nasal as his temper edged higher.

Eperitus jumped down from the donkey and threw his cloak over his shoulder, revealing his leather breastplate and the sword hanging from his belt. ‘If you refuse, then I challenge any man amongst you to fight me to the death. If I win, then the rest of you must leave Odysseus’s kingdom and never return; but if your champion kills me, then Odysseus will cede the island of Samos and all its towns, villages, people, livestock and crops to you. What do you say?’

The bandit gave a derisive snort. ‘The king’s offer is generous, but there’s another alternative. If I want, I can have you and your lad shot where you stand. Then my comrades and I can continue to take what we please from the people of this fat little island.’

‘You could shoot us down if you wished, but then Odysseus would come to Samos himself, bringing his army with him. They’d hunt you down to the last man and leave your unburied bodies as carrion for the crows. At least if one of you has the stomach to fight me, you have a small chance of winning.’

‘King Odysseus must have a lot of faith in your skill as a warrior, if he’s prepared to stake part of his kingdom on you,’ the bandit replied. He looked up at his comrades and there was the glimmer of a smile on his lips. ‘It’s an interesting choice: leave Samos without a fight; accept your challenge; or just kill you and take our chances with the king and his army. My head tells me to shoot you down and be done with it, but my heart wants to accept your challenge. And that is what we will do.’

There was a questioning murmur from the men on the slope, but the short bandit silenced his comrades with a wave of his hand. ‘If you kill our champion we give you our oaths before all the gods that we will leave peacefully, never to return. But there are to be no rules in this match, and I insist on one condition: the fight must be decided without weapons.’

‘Even better,’ Eperitus answered, already sliding his sword from its scabbard and passing it back to Arceisius. ‘I wouldn’t want it to be over too quickly.’

‘Of course not,’ the bandit grinned, before signalling to the men on the slope. ‘Send Polites down here! Now.’

‘I don’t trust them, sir,’ Arceisius said, undoing the buckles on Eperitus’s breastplate and prising the shaped leather away from his broad chest. He was looking up the slope to where the bandits were moving aside, their faces suddenly full of eager anticipation.

‘Don’t worry,’ Eperitus said in a low voice, removing his cloak and throwing it over the back of the donkey. ‘I only need to keep them distracted and buy us some time. Besides, there isn’t a man amongst this lot who could match me in a fight.’

‘I wouldn’t be so sure of that,’ Arceisius replied, his eyes widening as he watched Eperitus’s opponent striding down the slope behind him, throwing off his armour and weapons as he came.

Eperitus turned and felt a sudden rush of doubt at the sight of the man he was to face. Polites was a full head and shoulders taller than he was, and his muscles bulged like boulders under his taut skin. His square face was dominated by his thick black beard and his dark, cruel eyes. He reached the path and pulled off his cloak and tunic, then stood naked with his arms hanging at his side and his huge hands flexing repeatedly, already anticipating crushing the life out of his opponent.

Eperitus glanced higher up the slope and further along the path, at the same time straining his ears for sounds of discreet movement through the trees and bushes. He could hear nothing. Taking a deep breath to calm the sudden flurry of nerves, he unbuckled his belt and pulled off his tunic – clothes would only allow Polites to get an easy grip – and stepped forward.

Without waiting, Polites lunged at him with arms wide and fingers splayed. Eperitus ducked aside at the last moment, just as the long, heavily-muscled arms closed on the place where he had been standing. Turning on his heel, he punched Polites in the kidneys with all his force, only to cry out in pain as his fist impacted on the hard muscle. Before he could move away, Polites swung his right elbow back into his face, sending him reeling into the hindquarters of the donkey. The animal kicked out, narrowly missing Eperitus’s head, and broke through the circle of cheering Thessalians who had surrounded the fight.

Arceisius went to follow the donkey, but was pulled back by the short bandit. ‘You’re staying here, lad,’ he snarled, his lip curling to reveal yellow teeth.

Eperitus wiped the blood from his nose and staggered to his feet, still dazed from the blow to his face. Polites grinned confidently and walked towards him, certain his victory would be swift as he threw his arms wide and lunged again. The ring of onlookers closed towards Eperitus so that, this time, there could be no dodging the wide span of their champion’s immensely strong limbs. Realizing Polites had only one tactic – to crush the life out of him – Eperitus used his quicker reflexes to duck beneath his long reach and thrust his shoulder into the giant’s stomach.

The force of the blow would have knocked any other man from his feet and sent him toppling into the dust, but to Eperitus’s amazement Polites’s legs held. Then, in desperation, Eperitus thrust upwards, taking Polites’s full weight across his back and lifting him bodily from the ground. Then with a huge effort he stood and threw Polites into the dirt behind him.

There was a groan of dismay from the bandits, who shuffled back from the sprawling giant. Eperitus spun round, but Polites was already on his hands and knees and preparing to stand. Leaping forward, he swung his foot with as much speed and strength as he could muster into Polites’s exposed genitals. The soft flesh flattened beneath the top of his foot and a moment later a deafening bellow of pain erupted from his opponent’s lungs as he fell forward into the dirt, writhing in agony.

Eperitus was on him in an instant, thrusting his knee into his spine and hooking his right arm under his chin. He pulled back with all his strength, trying to snap the man’s neck. Whether the other Thessalians would honour their oath if he won, he did not know; he only knew that, unless he killed Polites now, the man would tear him apart. He pulled harder, sensing his opponent weakening as the shouts of the crowd receded into a shocked silence.

Then Polites placed the palms of his hands down on the earth and, slowly and irresistibly, began to push himself up. Eperitus tightened his grip about his neck and concentrated the weight of his body down through his knee in a desperate effort to keep him pinned to the floor, but the Thessalian’s strength seemed without measure. With a rage-filled roar, Polites thrust himself up and on to his side, pulling Eperitus’s arms away from his neck. The next moment he twisted free and leapt to his feet.

His supporters exploded back into life. Eperitus, now flat on his back, saw the terrible anger in Polites’s eyes as he reached down and picked him up, lifting him above his head as if he were no more than a child. With a huge grunt, he hurled the Ithacan across the circle of men to land in a heap at the feet of Arceisius.

For a moment Eperitus’s vision was filled with flashes of light, beyond which the world seemed to be spinning about him in a whirl of faces and trees set against a cloudy sky. His whole body was awash with pain, a thousand spear-points of agony stabbing at him relentlessly, and his ears were filled with the deafening sound of his own heartbeat. Then he saw Arceisius’s face bending close, his lips moving urgently.

‘Sir, he’s coming again!’ he said, his voice distant and muffled by the blood pumping through Eperitus’s ears.

Suddenly, with a rush and a loud pop, his senses returned to him. Seeing the looming figure of Polites approaching from the corner of his vision, he thrust aside his pain and rolled onto his hands and knees, springing away just as the giant leapt towards him. With his brain beating hard against the inside of his skull and every muscle in his body protesting at the movement that was forced upon them, Eperitus sprinted to the opposite side of the human arena and, gasping, twisted about to face Polites, who had turned and was coming at him again, his massive body covered in sweat, dust and blood.

Then Eperitus’s fighting instinct came back to him. New strength filled his limbs and his senses sharpened to a fine point once more. His eyes searched the arena for anything that would give him an advantage, acutely aware that Polites was closing on him. Beyond the circle of Thessalians, he heard the faint rustle of undergrowth trodden under careful feet, and the small sounds of armour and weapons knocking against each other. Odysseus was coming.

‘This time I will kill you,’ Polites announced in a deep, slow voice, staring at Eperitus with a mixture of frustration and hatred.

Sensing the brigands close once more behind him, Eperitus knelt swiftly and picked up the rock he had spotted a moment before. It was smooth, round and large and he had to splay his fingers to fit it in his hand. Raising it above his head, he watched with satisfaction as the look on Polites’s face turned to fear and doubt. Then he took aim and threw the rock, hitting the giant square on the forehead. Polites looked at him blankly for a moment, his eyes blinking, before toppling backwards with all the slowness and rigidity of a felled tree.