Free King of Ithaca by Glyn Iliffe Page B

water. Eperitus watched in fascination as the crew passed wooden crates down to people on the platform, who then took them back to the shore.
    ‘What’s the matter, Eperitus? Never seen fishermen before?’
    Antiphus joined him where he had lagged behind the group. The Ithacan was in a carefree mood now that he was homeward-bound, and gave the young warrior a dig in the ribs with his elbow. Eperitus looked back at the fishermen as they passed more crates out of their boat, watching keenly as they tossed shining objects into the water, where gulls darted into the waves and plucked them out again.
    ‘No,’ he confessed. ‘Not in Alybas. My home is many days’ march from the sea.’
    ‘Then you’ve never even seen the sea?’ Antiphus asked, shaking his head and trying to imagine a life without sight of the ocean waves every day.
    Before now Eperitus’s only experience of the sea had come through the fantastic stories of bards, or the tales of the grizzled adventurers who now and then passed through Alybas. They told tales of a great bottomless lake with no end, filled with gold and silver fish that the people who lived by the sea ate. They described oceans as blue as the sky, or at other times as dark as wine, where the restless surface moved like the wind over a field of barley. Sometimes, they said, Poseidon would make the waters rise up in great walls to smash the ships that rode upon them, and because of this the sea people built their ships of such strength and size that they could withstand the anger of the god. There were small boats in Alybas, of course, but the few natives who had ever seen the sea declared authoritatively that ships were as large as two or three houses put together, and some could hold over a hundred men.
    ‘Are the creatures of the sea really made of silver and gold?’
    ‘Silver and gold?’ Antiphus laughed. ‘If they were, Ithaca would be the richest country in the world. Well, country boy, what are you waiting for? Come and find out for yourself
    With that he strolled towards the fishermen. Eperitus, keen to see a fish of silver, followed close behind.

    They made camp by the shore that evening, Odysseus having decided to wait until the next morning to make the voyage back to Ithaca. His ship was not as big as Eperitus’s imagination had hoped – just as he had learned that sea fish were not made of silver or gold – but she was a beautiful craft and he could barely wait to board her. He helped make a fire on the beach while others prepared the food or fetched fresh water (to his surprise, they informed him that sea water could not be drunk), and as he collected wood his mind and eyes were on the vessel. It was sunset and the calm waters were ablaze, glowing orange-red like new bronze as the black silhouette of the ship lay at anchor amidst the gentle, fiery waves. Her hull was low and wide, with great wooden barbs rising at each end and a prow that would cut through waves like a spear point. The tall mast stood forward of the centre of the boat, carrying a furled sail on its cross-spar and strung about by a web of ropes.
    Besides Odysseus and his ten companions, a further eight men had been left to guard the ship. They welcomed the newcomer from Alybas with genuine friendship, despite being greatly saddened by the loss of one of their comrades. They demanded the story of the fight and the visit to the Pythoness, and as his men gathered to eat and share wine Odysseus gave them the tale in full, with much embellishment and ornamentation. For a man with so uncouth an appearance, the prince’s voice was as smooth and as sweet as honey. His words fell like flakes of snow in the mountains at wintertime, gentle and enchanting and irresistible. The men listened intently and without interruption, their minds filled with the images that Odysseus created before them. They listened as if under a spell until, eventually, the tale was done and the teller leaned back with a smile and sipped his