Free King of Ithaca by Glyn Iliffe Page A

And don’t forget my temple at Messene.’
    In an instant she was gone. Eperitus waved his hand through the air where she had stood, but there was nothing.

    Though the party was awake before dawn and did not tarry, it took them most of the next morning to reach the port where the Ithacans’ ship was harboured. The journey was uneventful as they descended towards the great gulf of water Eperitus had seen the evening before, though it was strenuous under the merciless leadership of Odysseus and Halitherses, who insisted on a quick pace with few stops. Despite this, their newest recruit was pleased to find that the other warriors had welcomed his inclusion in their ranks, albeit with coldness from Mentor.
    As they marched Eperitus became aware of a strange smell in the air, which was neither pleasant nor offensive, simply alien to his nostrils. He also saw great white birds circling in the sky above them, the likes of which he had never witnessed until his arrival at Pythia. They had long, hooked beaks and wing spans large enough to cast shadows over the soldiers as they flew. He watched them riding the wind, swooping and rising in the bright sunlight, and felt an unfamiliar pang stir in his heart. He felt as if he was on the threshold of the new world he longed for, that soon now he would be able to shake off the rags of his past life and for the first time discover who he really was. He was turning a corner that would put Alybas and his father out of sight, and would set him on the path to his promised glory, where the bonds of the old world would no longer hold any power over him.
    A transformation of spirit overcame his companions, too. They no longer seemed weary, nor stooped by the weight of their arms. Instead, their sombre mood had been replaced by a chattiness and excitement that Eperitus had not before seen in them. Their conversation was no longer a string of muttered curses or an exchange of complaints, as it had been only the day before, but turned now to the subject of Ithaca. They spoke eagerly of their wives and families, home cooking and wine shared by their own hearths. They were also talking of the sea.
    Already Eperitus had seen tantalizing glimpses of this mysterious entity in the great body of water that was visible from the slopes of Mount Parnassus. Last night it had shone like silver in the moonlight, and this morning it was a dark mass upon whose surface the sunlight had shattered itself into a thousand pieces. But he knew that even this was only a channel that led to the sea, little more than the least twig on a great tree.
    He lost sight of the shimmering waters as the party reached the plain below Pythia. As they followed the course of a boulder-strewn river that grew steadily wider and noisier they passed several pilgrims on their way to the oracle, escorted by local peasants acting as guides. The first sign that they were approaching a town was a group of girls washing clothing on the other side of the river. Shortly afterwards they began to pass huts and a few larger dwellings. Gradually the path became a road, populated by water-carrying women and their grubby-faced children, who looked blankly at the strangers as they filed past. A goatherd called a cheery greeting as he took his flock to drink at the river, but nobody else spoke to them.
    Before long they were in the town itself, and followed the river, to the harbour. The great spread of water that Eperitus had seen at a distance now lay hammered out before him, a dark, shining mass that heaved quietly beneath the shore wind. This was not the sea – he could see land on all sides – but Antiphus told him it was an entrance to the gulf that split northern Greece from the Peloponnese, and which ultimately led out to the oceans of the world.
    Flocks of seagulls screeched and cawed as they wheeled in wide circles over the town. Crowds of them were focused above a boat moored beside a wooden platform that had been built to reach out into the