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Chapter One
LEMNOS
Odysseus, king of Ithaca, stood at the stern of the galley, his short legs planted firmly apart on the deck and his muscular, top-heavy torso rolling gently with the subdued motion of the sea. His green eyes were impassive as they studied the walls of dense fog that surrounded the ship, seemingly unconcerned at the possibility they could be creeping towards their doom on a rocky shoal or drifting past their destination altogether. King Diomedes showed less patience, beseeching and cursing the gods with alternate breaths as he stood at Odysseus’s left shoulder, his blue cloak swept back to reveal a gleaming breastplate and the golden pommel of a sword hanging at his side. Eperitus, captain of the Ithacan guard, was at Odysseus’s other shoulder, his eyes on the crew as they pulled at the oars.
‘What do your senses tell you, Eperitus?’ Odysseus asked, his smooth voice amplified by the silence. ‘Are we near to Lemnos?’
Eperitus stared out at the thick mist, raising his chin a little as he focussed his hearing on sounds that were beyond the gentle creaking of the long oars in their leather loops and the swish and trickle of water across the blades. As he concentrated he began to hear things the others could not, noises diminished by distance that took a few moments to understand. With them came odours and aromas, and different tastes carried on the air, all of them delicate and insubstantial, but nevertheless distinct to his raised perceptivity.
‘I can hear crowds of gulls,’ he began, ‘squabbling and cawing like they used to on the cliffs and hillsides around Ithaca. And waves crashing against rocks. There’s a stink of seaweed and wet stone, but with a hint of soil and vegetation. It’s definitely land, though I can’t say whether it’s Lemnos or not.’
‘It is,’ Odysseus said confidently. ‘Which way?’
Eperitus pointed at an angle to the bearing they were travelling along. Odysseus gave a satisfied smile and glanced back over his shoulder.
‘North a little, Antiphus.’
The man at the helm nodded, a determined look on his face as he leaned the twin steering oars to the left.
‘I’m going to the prow,’ Odysseus announced. ‘I remember the rocks the first time we came here, and the last thing I want is one of them popping up out of this fog and tearing a hole in the hull.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ Eperitus said.
‘No need,’ Odysseus replied, placing an arresting hand on his broad chest. ‘Why don’t you stay here and make sure the anchor stones are ready? You can prepare the boat, too, while you’re at it.’
The fact the anchor stones and the small rowing boat could be quickly readied by any of the seasoned crew made Eperitus suspicious, and when Odysseus added one of his reassuring smiles he felt sure he was hiding something. Not that there was any point in questioning him; after twenty years as the king’s friend, Eperitus knew he would not reveal anything he did not have a mind to.
