‘There was no other way, but at least it means we can be together again. That’s why I’m here – to keep you safe until it’s all over, then take you back with me to Ithaca. If you still want to come?’
Astynome smiled. ‘Of course I do. My life’s nothing without you, Eperitus. But you’re not just here for me, are you.’
‘I gave Palamedes my word I would keep Clymene safe if Troy was ever sacked.’
‘I mean Apheidas.’
Eperitus held her face and tenderly brushed her cheeks with his thumbs.
‘I can’t leave without avenging his crimes.’
‘Honour and vengeance! The two things that have kept men killing each other since the creation of the world.’
‘You forget love.’
‘At least love can also stay a man’s hand!’ Astynome retorted. Then her eyes softened again and she glanced down at his armoured chest. ‘Clymene’s already in her room waiting – I told her to be ready to flee the city – but must you risk everything to face Apheidas? I know when you were his prisoner I said I would help you take your revenge, but now I’m not so certain. Does killing a man really solve anything? Will murdering your own father right the wrongs he has committed? It seems to me the best way to defeat Apheidas is to be everything he is not, to be loving where he is hateful, to be selfless where he is ambitious. And that’s the kind of man you are, Eperitus – it’s why I fell in love with you. But if you seek him out and avenge his crimes in blood, you’re taking the path he would take. Instead of defeating him, you’ll become him. If you want to be free of his shadow, then leave him to his fate and walk away from this place.’
Her words were sacrilege to a warrior, whose code demanded that the merest slight had to be avenged in blood. And yet they held a challenge he could not ignore. Did he want to kill his father and inherit his legacy of hatred? Or could he turn away, even now when revenge was finally within his grasp, and take a different path?
‘A woman wouldn’t understand,’ said another voice from the shadows on the opposite side of the hall. ‘A man who runs from his responsibilities is only half a man, doomed to live life with his head hung low and his spirit in shadow. Isn’t that so, Son?’
Eperitus spun round to see a man and a woman step into the circle of firelight. The tall figure of his father was unmistakable. He carried a spear in one hand and a shield in the other, and the red glow from the embers played menacingly on his scaled cuirass. It took a moment longer to recognise the woman as Clymene, her shoulders stooped and her chin on her chest. Eperitus slipped his grandfather’s shield from his back and took its weight on his left arm, while slowly drawing his sword from its sheath. It seemed his decision had been made for him.
‘Father,’ he said. ‘At least you’ve saved me the trouble of looking for you.’
‘And I thought Astynome might have talked you into running away. But what were you planning, Son? A knife in my sleep? That seems to be the Greek way of doing things.’
‘No, you can be sure I’d have woken you first. I wouldn’t want your ghost to slip off to Hades without knowing who it was that took your life.’
‘Ah, that must be the Trojan in you, Son.’
Eperitus spat. ‘I’ve rejected that part of my inheritance, just like my grandfather did when he made Greece his home. It’s a shame you didn’t follow his example.’
‘And become a skulking coward, sneaking into cities hidden inside a wooden horse?’
Eperitus raised an eyebrow.
‘If you knew, why didn’t you burn it when you had the chance?’
‘I didn’t know,’ Apheidas admitted with a shrug. ‘I suspected something was amiss with the horse, but when Cassandra started screaming that there were men inside the idea of it seemed ridiculous. And that was the work of the gods, I’m sure of it. Then, after the celebrations were over, Clymene here woke me to say that Astynome was planning to flee, and when I looked out my window I could see flames in the lower city and hear cries. That was when the truth became clear to me.’
‘Clymene!’ Astynome said, her tone both accusative and dismayed. ‘How could you betray me? I was trying to help you.’
Clymene raised her pained face to look at her friend.
‘I’m sorry, Astynome, but Apheidas is my master and the Greeks are our enemies. When you said we needed to get out of the city before it was too late, I knew it meant they were coming. But I don’t want them to come! They murdered my son in cold blood, and if I can do anything to save Troy from them then I will. And I have.’
‘You silly woman!’ Astynome replied. ‘Troy is doomed, and you’ve thrown away your only hope of escape.’
‘And you think you’re just going to walk out of the city unscathed?’ Apheidas mocked. ‘At least Clymene has shown loyalty, whereas you will die a traitor!’
Eperitus moved Astynome behind him and walked towards the hearth.
‘No-one is going to die except you, Father.’
‘So you think. I overheard you’d sworn to protect Clymene, but merely taking an oath doesn’t mean it’s going to be fulfilled. Let me demonstrate.’
Apheidas turned towards Clymene and with a quick thrust pushed the point of his spear through her chest and out her back. Astynome sprang forward with a cry of protest, but Clymene was already dead, her body toppling back into the hearth. The flames leapt up to welcome her and a blaze of orange light illuminated her laughing murderer.
‘See, Eperitus? There’s one oath you’ll never be able to fulfil. Now, let’s see whether you can keep your other promise – to kill me.’
Apheidas tossed the spear up and caught it with his upturned hand. In the same movement, he pulled it back and hurled it at his son. It split the air with a hiss, passing a finger’s breadth to the right of Eperitus’s neck.
‘Get back, Astynome!’ Eperitus shouted. ‘Get back now!’
He ran at his father and hewed the air where a moment before he had been standing, but the older man had already judged the fall of the weapon and jumped back into the shadows. Drawing his own sword, he leant forward on his front foot and drove the point at his son’s exposed midriff. Eperitus turned and blocked the thrust with his shield, following the movement with an arcing sweep of his blade. Apheidas slipped behind a pillar and the bronze edge drew sparks as it bit into the stone.
Eperitus charged him again and their weapons met, the loud scraping of the blades echoing back from the walls as they bent into each other. They locked eyes, then with a grunt Eperitus pushed his father back into the shadows.
‘You’ve still not got it in you to kill me, Son.’
Eperitus looked at his father’s sneering face and felt a surge of hatred. Then he remembered Astynome’s words and wondered whether she was right, that there was something of Apheidas’s anger in himself. Was he looking at a reflection of what he could become? The thought subdued his fury and he stepped back.
The hiss and pop of the fire was accompanied now by the stench of burning flesh, a smell all too familiar from the many funeral pyres Eperitus had witnessed over the years of the war. He saw his father move to the right, then realised Astynome had ignored his orders and was standing close by. Guessing Apheidas’s intentions, he ran across to protect her, just as his father dashed out of the darkness. The red glint of a blade was followed by a scream. Apheidas reeled away, clutching at the side of his face where the point of his son’s sword had opened the skin. Eperitus instinctively lifted his hand to touch the scar on his forehead, which Apheidas had given him in the temple of Artemis at Lyrnessus several weeks before.