King of Ithaca Read Online Free PDF Page A

danger he must have left them in by sleeping on guard duty that morning. Then they started to shed their armour and baggage, clearly having no intention of taking another step that night.
    Castor threw a heavily muscled arm about Eperitus’s shoulders. ‘Meanwhile, you and I can go and question the hag about what the gods have planned for us.’
    Eperitus watched the skeins of smoke trailing into the night air and quickly forgot his fatigue from the day’s trials. At last, he was nearing the oracle itself.
    ‘We’ll come with you as well,’ said Halitherses.
    He was joined by a lean, grubby-looking man with hollow cheeks and a big nose. He introduced himself as Antiphus, and as Eperitus took his hand he realized he was missing his two bowstring fingers. This was the harshest and most effective punishment for hunting without leave on a noble’s land, and was usually meted out only to the low-born: by hacking off the index and forefingers the man was made ineffective as an archer. It was this that caused Eperitus to note with curiosity that Antiphus still carried a bow on his shoulder.
    ‘There’s a sacred spring ahead,’ Castor informed them as they walked up the slope towards the trees. ‘We should bathe there before we enter the temple.’
    They walked into a circle of trees that stood about a wide, dark pool. Water broke from a rock on the far side, gurgling softly in the still night air. As Eperitus watched, the moon emerged from behind a veiling cloud and transformed the clearing with her ghostly light. He found himself in a dreamscape, a place of unmatchable beauty where the simple glade had shed its earthly guise to reveal a heart of magic. The moon’s disc moved in the water, wavering, slowing towards stillness but never quite achieving solid form. The boles of the trees became pillars of silver, as if the men had stepped inside an enchanted hall where the glistening pool took the place of the hearth and the whispering branches formed a roof over their heads. Not without reason was the spring considered sacred: Eperitus almost expected to see a deer leap into the clearing, pursued by Artemis herself, bow in hand.
    Then Castor removed his cloak, armour and tunic and quickly lowered himself into the water. He was soon out again, replacing his garments. The others followed, each one flinching from the icy bite of the water, their complaints echoing about the ring of trees.
    Slowly Eperitus scooped up handfuls of water and tipped them over his arms, shoulders and chest. The cold was sharp, initially, but as he became used to it he started to feel a new sensation tingling across his skin, like the breath of a god.
    ‘Don’t stay too long,’ Castor warned. ‘The gods tolerate bathers in the daylight, but the darkness is a time for water nymphs and other supernatural beings. Be quick.’
    The water poured off Eperitus as he stepped out. He put his tunic back on and hugged his thick cloak about his body to keep off the chill night air. Yet at the same time he could feel a transformation: the tiredness had lifted and the bruising on his shin where the spear had hit the greave no longer pained him. He felt alive, alert and awake.
    As they emerged from the trees they could smell wood smoke and roasting meat. They saw the glow of flames from a plateau further up the hill and scrambled their way up the slope to reach the blaze of several camp fires surrounded by clouds of moths, where groups of pilgrims had laid down their blankets for the night. They avoided looking at the warriors as they walked between their lighted circles, reluctant to attract the attention of the heavily armed men. Eperitus paid the pilgrims no mind either: he was engrossed by the large, pillared edifice ahead of him, built against a sheer face of rock where the mountain rose again from the plateau. A faint red glow came from inside, like a bloody wound cut into the dark of the night, and swirling out of the entrance was a trail of white smoke.