At the thought of Clytaemnestra, Eperitus felt a sudden desire to leave the guest house and go out into the moonlight. Perhaps some time spent in the quiet gardens while the palace slept would clear his mind, he thought, so he pulled his blanket aside and put on his sandals. He unrolled the cloak he had been using as a pillow and threw it over his shoulders, then moved silently to the door and slipped out to the courtyard. A single guard stood beneath the threshold of the great hall, where Agamemnon's escort slept, but he paid scant attention to Eperitus as he crossed to the doorway that led down to the gardens. Moments later a second figure emerged from the guest house and slipped into the shadows by the wall, following Eperitus at a short distance as he descended the steps to the wide lawn below. Eperitus sensed a presence and glanced back over his shoulder, but could see nothing other than the dense bushes rippling with the night breeze. Already on edge after the unexpected arrival of Agamemnon, he a.s.sumed his sharp instincts were being further befuddled by the lack of sleep.

'I've been waiting for you,' said a female voice behind him.

Eperitus turned to see Clytaemnestra sitting on the bench by the pond. He crossed the gra.s.s and sat next to her. The features of her pale face were lost beneath the shadow of her hood, but he caught the glimmer of her damp eyes as she looked at him.

'How could you be waiting for me?' he began.

'I willed you to come,' she said, taking his rough hand in her soft fingers. 'Once I make a strong connection with someone I can put images and desires into their mind. It's a gift of the ancient G.o.ds; I can do it with Helen and Iphigenia, and I can do it with you.'

Eperitus raised his hand and tipped the hood back from her face. Her eyes were dark-rimmed and her cheeks stained with tears.

'What's wrong?' he asked.

Clytaemnestra leaned across and placed her mouth against his. Though her hands were cold, her lips were almost hot. He put his hand behind her head and held her face gently to his as they kissed.

'What is it?' he asked again, pulling away just enough to speak. 'Is it Iphigenia?'

'You know it is,' she responded, kissing him once more before lowering her gaze to the pond, where the wavering reflection of the moon looked back at her. 'Agamemnon has no intention of marrying her to Achilles. It's just a lie to get her to Aulis.'

'But why? To ensure your loyalty while he's at Troy?'

'Nothing quite so simple,' Clytaemnestra told him bitterly. 'It was the white hart, the creature you helped him to hunt through the woods at Aulis. That was no ordinary animal: it belonged to Artemis and that made it sacred. As soon as Agamemnon's arrow found its mark the expedition to Troy was doomed, and boasting that Artemis herself could not have fired a better shot only made matters worse. In her anger the G.o.ddess sent the storms to bottle up the fleet, and until Agamemnon pays the price she demands then not one ship will be able to leave the Euboean Straits for Troy.'

'Artemis wants Iphigenia's life in payment for the white hart,' Eperitus said quietly, suddenly comprehending. He looked up at the moon, the symbol of the G.o.ddess's cold nature, and felt despair creep into his heart. The thought of Iphigenia being brought to harm seemed intolerable. 'Is there no other way?'

Clytaemnestra gave a bitter laugh. 'None of the Olympians are more cruel or vengeful than Artemis. She and Apollo shot down the children of Niobe simply because the poor woman insulted their mother. When Actaeon caught her bathing, she turned him into a stag and he was torn apart by his own hounds. Even Callisto, her friend, she turned into a bear and shot dead, all because Zeus raped her. No, Eperitus, the G.o.ddess wants payment in kind, like for like: Iphigenia for the sacred hart. Only my daughter's innocent blood will satisfy Artemis, and unless Agamemnon is prepared to carry out the sacrifice then he'll not get his war.'

'But surely Agamemnon will come to his senses and give up his ambitions?'

Clytaemnestra stood and looked up at the moon, which seemed distended to unnatural proportions as it hovered menacingly above the hilltops, its curious scars and pockmarks etched out in cold grey.

'Part of me hopes that he will look on Iphigenia and his heart of stone will melt,' she said. 'But that is just a fool's hope, because I know Agamemnon is as unyielding and pitiless as Artemis herself. And I can blame myself for that. I hated him because he murdered my first husband and our baby, tearing the infant from my breast as he suckled and butchering him before my eyes. I never forgave him for that and over the years I have denied him the love he craves, slowly turning him from a monster of pa.s.sion into a monster without any feelings at all. If he has any desire now it is for power only, and his l.u.s.t for war with Troy has turned his mind from its natural course. I believe he will do anything to achieve his ambitions, Eperitus,' she said, turning to stare into her lover's eyes. 'Even murder his own child.'

'Then you must leave at once,' Eperitus said, placing his hands on her shoulders. 'My heart wants this war, but I wouldn't have it at such a cost. Go and fetch Iphigenia now and leave Mycenae by one of its side gates.'

'And go where?' Clytaemnestra retorted. 'What chance would a woman and a child have out in the wilds, homeless and alone, hunted by the most powerful man in Greece? We'd be caught before the sun had set. No, Eperitus, if I'm to take Iphigenia and flee I only have one hope. You!'

Eperitus looked at the woman who only the night before had become his lover for the second time. He remembered the taste of her mouth against his and the soft and skilful touch of her hands on his body; he recalled her tenderness as they made love, and the realization that she had never given herself in such a way to Agamemnon. But if he fled with Clytaemnestra and Iphigenia, it would be to abandon his oath of service to Odysseus and lose the greatest friendship he had ever known. He would sacrifice all he had fought so hard to gain for a woman he did not love and a girl he hardly knew, to spend the rest of his life like a hunted beast, running from one hiding place to another. For all his fondness towards Iphigenia and his horror at Agamemnon's intentions, Clytaemnestra was asking too much of him.

'I can't help you,' he said, stepping away from her and looking down. 'My duty is to Odysseus. I can't break my oath to him.'

'You warriors and your d.a.m.ned oaths,' Clytaemnestra spat, her eyes flashing with anger. Then she placed her hands either side of his head and pulled him into a kiss. 'But you are going to help me, Eperitus, one way or another. If nothing else, we are lovers and I want you to make me a promise on your oath.'

'What promise?'

'I'm going to try to escape tonight, but if I fail and Agamemnon kills Iphigenia . . .' Clytaemnestra paused and took a deep breath. 'If Agamemnon murders my daughter I want your word that you will protect him until he returns from Troy.'

'Protect him?' Eperitus exclaimed. 'I could understand if you wanted me to kill him, but . . .'

'I intend to have that pleasure for myself,' Clytaemnestra said, her eyes as cold as ice in the moonlight.

Eperitus could see she meant what she said. 'If that's what you really want, then I give you my word I'll protect him.'

'No, Eperitus!' Clytaemnestra said firmly. 'That's not good enough. I want you to swear it before Zeus, the Sun, the Earth and the Avenging Furies. Say it.'

There was power in the queen's voice as she spoke, a power that reflected the hatred beneath. In that moment, Eperitus sensed the similarity between Clytaemnestra and Agamemnon: both were unshakeably ruthless and cold at heart, and if resolved on something would not let anything stand between them and their desires. Whether they had always been like that or had grown severe and cold over the years together, Eperitus was unable to tell, but he had no more chance of denying Clytaemnestra's will than he would an order from the King of Men himself.

'Have it your way, Clytaemnestra,' he said. 'If Agamemnon murders Iphigenia, then I promise to protect his life to the best of my ability until he returns from Troy. I call upon Zeus, the Sun, the Earth and the Avenging Furies to witness my oath. Now are you satisfied?'

'I am,' she said, reaching out and taking his hand. 'Don't think badly of me, Eperitus, for I had to extract this promise from you. Without it I could not say what I've been longing to tell you since I first set eyes on you in the great hall.'

Eperitus felt suddenly tense. He thought of Calchas's words to him in Priam's throne room and realized with a cold shiver that Clytaemnestra was the one the priest had told him to seek.

'What is it?' he asked.

Clytaemnestra stepped closer and rested her head on his chest. 'I said I would try to escape, Eperitus, and that I wanted you to help me. I expected you to refuse me at first, of course you are bound by honour and friendship to serve Odysseus, and I knew you would not betray him for my sake. But I also knew you would never allow Iphigenia to come to harm, if you knew the truth about her.'

'The truth?' Eperitus asked. 'What truth?'

'That Iphigenia is your daughter, Eperitus.'

Chapter Twenty-five.

AT THE LION GATE.

Eperitus seized Clytaemnestra's shoulders and stared at her in disbelief.

'Iphigenia's not my daughter,' he said, shaking his head and frowning. 'That's a lie to make me help you escape. Odysseus said you were desperate, but I never thought you'd stoop to this.'

'Stop being a fool, Eperitus, and use your head. We made love ten years ago and Iphigenia was born nine months later. I hadn't slept with Agamemnon for weeks when I realized I was pregnant, though I allowed him to take me as soon as I knew I didn't want him to discover my infidelity. But even if your head is too obstinate to believe it, then search your heart and you'll know.'

He sat on the bench and stared hard at the dark surface of the pond, trying desperately to comprehend what Clytaemnestra's news meant. Despite his words of denial, he knew she was not lying to him: Iphigenia was the right age to be the product of their lovemaking in the Taygetus Mountains, and he believed Clytaemnestra when she said she had not slept with Agamemnon for weeks before becoming pregnant. More convincing, though, was the sense of familiarity he had felt about Iphigenia from the moment he had first seen the girl. He now realized that he had recognized something of himself in her features and even her character. Though her mannerisms were echoes of Clytaemnestra and Agamemnon, her determination and childish sense of honour were his.

Clytaemnestra sat next to him and laid a hand gently on his shoulder. 'You know it to be true, don't you?' she said. 'You only have to think about how alike you are. Jenny accepted it straight away when I told her.'

'You told her!' Eperitus exclaimed. 'When?'

'This morning, after Agamemnon arrived.'

Eperitus's surprise quickly turned to curiosity, tinged with fear. 'So what did she say? Was she pleased or disappointed?'

Clytaemnestra laughed. 'For a while I think she was too shocked to believe me, but when she finally listened to her instincts and accepted it was true, she was overjoyed. She's longed for a father like you all her life, Eperitus, someone to give her the love and attention that Agamemnon never did.'

She took Eperitus's hand and held it in her lap, smiling up at the night sky with more tears flowing down her cheeks. Only now they were tears of happiness. 'I've told her stories about you since she was a little girl, you know. I thought she should at least hear about you, even if she didn't realize you were her father. The funny thing is,' she said, smiling and sniffing at the same time, 'she has always thought more of you than any of the other great men of Greece.'

'Because you made more of me than you should have.'

'No because she knew, in her heart, that you were special to her. And these past few days have proved it. Being with you has given her such joy, and learning you're her real father has brought all her hopes and dreams to life.'

Clytaemnestra looked to the east and saw that the darkness was already being suffused by the light of approaching dawn. If they were to flee Mycenae, it would have to be soon. Eperitus followed her anxious gaze and understood her concern.

'Years ago, I visited the oracle at Mount Parna.s.sus,' he began. 'The Pythoness's words burned themselves into my memory: "Ares's sword has forged a bond that will lead to Olympus, but the hero should beware love, for if she clouds his desires he will fall into the Abyss." She was predicting a choice between fame and renown in battle, or love that will lead to obscurity. Naturally, as a soldier I want to win immortality by defeating my enemies and bringing glory to my name, so I've always been careful not to give my heart to a woman. I never realized the Pythoness could have meant my own daughter. And now it seems the choice is upon me: allow Agamemnon to have his way and then follow Odysseus to fame in Troy, or betray my own king and flee with you and Iphigenia into a life of insignificance, to have the love of a family but ultimately to die and be forgotten.'

'Then let Iphigenia be your fame and your glory,' Clytaemnestra pleaded. 'In Troy you may win renown with your spear, but who will tell of it? Will you surpa.s.s Achilles, Ajax, Diomedes or even Odysseus? Of course not. The bards won't sing of your greatness, Eperitus, or preserve your name in their poems for future generations. True fame is for kings, not soldiers. But Iphigenia will pa.s.s on your name to her children, and they to their children. She already worships you like a G.o.d and knows everything you've done. Why not let her be your legacy?'

Eperitus thought of Iphigenia's face, recalling her different reactions and expressions during the days he had spent in her company. He remembered her sombre and respectful look advanced for her years as they had laid the garland of flowers over Aerope's gravestone; he grinned with pleasure at the memory of her pride as she paraded him like a captive before her friends; and then he thought of her consuming enthusiasm as she exaggerated his adventures to Tecton and his father. Suddenly he knew he could not permit Agamemnon to destroy such a beautiful and wonderful life. He would not allow his newly discovered family to be annihilated by one man's ambition.

He looked up at the thinning darkness and sniffed the air. Dawn was not far away. 'Come on,' he said, standing and pulling Clytaemnestra to her feet. He led her across the wide lawn towards the steps. 'We must head for Ithaca at once Penelope will hide us if Agamemnon comes looking for Iphigenia. But it's more likely the expedition will break up before then, and when Odysseus returns home I'll explain to him why I had to leave.'

'And he'll thank you for preventing this cursed war and allowing him to return to the family and home he loves,' Clytaemnestra a.s.sured him, squeezing his hand and smiling. 'Now I must fetch Jenny she's waiting for me in my room, ready to leave. Go and fetch your weapons and meet us here as soon as you can. I've arranged for a man to meet us with horses on the other side of the walls; he'll supply us with provisions for a few days, and I will bring enough gold to meet our needs in the weeks ahead.'

'I'll be quick,' Eperitus replied, releasing her hand and running towards the steps that led to the courtyard above.

Eperitus paced up and down by the pond, his grandfather's shield slung over his shoulder and his spears clutched in his sweating palm. Every few moments he threw an anxious glance towards the doorway that led to the royal quarters, but it was only when he thought of going to fetch Clytaemnestra that the door finally burst open and the queen appeared with Iphigenia at her side.

He moved towards them, but upon seeing him Iphigenia let go of her mother's hand and ran across the lawn towards him.

'Father!' she said as he bent down to meet her. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, pressing her cheek against his.

'Daughter,' he answered softly in her ear, lifting her up and holding her close against the leather of his breastplate. She was light in his strong arms and he felt the anxiety ease from his body as she hugged him. 'What took you so long?'

'I couldn't find Eperitus,' she explained, leaning back and opening her palm to reveal the ivory warrior Tecton's father had carved. 'I didn't want to leave without him.'

'Well, now you have the real Eperitus,' he said, looking into her brown eyes and smiling. 'And I promise you won't be able to lose me so easily.'

'She'll lose you all too soon if Agamemnon finds us,' Clytaemnestra warned, her face strained and nervous as she joined them. 'He'll be awake soon, so we must go now if we're to get away.'

Without wasting another moment they ran across the garden to the far gate, which led to the narrow streets beyond. As they scanned the silent shadows for signs of life a c.o.c.k crowed from the upper reaches of the city behind them. Seized by a sudden sense of urgency, they abandoned their caution and dashed down the sloping road towards the lower level. Soon they were at the top of the ramp that overlooked the circle of royal graves and led to the Lion Gate. The vast doors were shut, as Eperitus had expected, and three guards were seated on the ground before them, huddled in their thick cloaks and talking quietly to each other.

At the sight of the man, woman and child they sprang to their feet and reached for the long spears propped against a nearby wall.

'Who's that?' one of them called, his voice full of suspicion as he lowered his spear menacingly at the newcomers.

'Your queen,' Clytaemnestra answered, striding down the broad, paved steps towards them. 'Open the gates and let me out. I have urgent business in the town.'

The men did not move. 'I'm sorry, mistress,' said the same guard, 'but the king has given orders for no one to enter or leave including yourself.'

At that moment, Eperitus's sharp hearing picked up the sound of many footsteps running through the palace above, accompanied by the shouts of men and the clanking of heavy armour. Somehow, the absence of Agamemnon's wife and daughter had already been discovered; the pursuit was about to begin.

'Hold this,' he ordered, slipping the shield from his shoulder and pa.s.sing one of his spears to Iphigenia.

'What are you doing?' she asked, struggling to hold the tall shaft nearly twice her own height with both hands.

But Eperitus, knowing there was no time to waste arguing with the gate guards, had already launched himself down the ramp at the three men. Their reactions were tired and sluggish as he ran past Clytaemnestra towards them, and before they could lower their spears his shield had knocked one of them aside and sent him sprawling across the flagstones. The others staggered backwards, but as both men lowered their weapons defensively Eperitus slammed the shaft of his remaining spear into the face of one of them, catching him across his right eye and forehead and knocking him unconscious to the floor.

'Open the gate!' Eperitus shouted over his shoulder to Clytaemnestra as he faced the last guard.

Clytaemnestra and Iphigenia ran together towards the wooden portals and strained to lift the heavy bar from its brackets. Somewhere in the palace above a voice was barking orders. Weapons and armour clanked in response, and Eperitus knew that at any moment dozens of soldiers would be rushing down to prevent their escape. He looked at his opponent's frightened and confused expression, sensing the man's inexperience, and in the same instant lunged forward with the point of his spear. The thrust was unexpected and the man's attempt to parry it came far too late; the weapon punched into his shoulder and with a scream of pain he spun around and fell to the floor, clutching at his wound.

Eperitus leapt over his writhing body and helped Clytaemnestra and Iphigenia pull open the gates. They swung back with a groan to reveal the road a dull grey in the darkness before dawn and the colossal walls rising up to the right. Below them was the ramshackle town where their horses were waiting for them.

'Father,' Iphigenia said. 'Your spear.'

Eperitus stroked his daughter's soft hair, then took the weapon from her hands and started down the road towards the town below. Clytaemnestra was at his side and Iphigenia slightly ahead of them, half-running in her eagerness to leave Mycenae, but as they approached the furthest corner of the walls a man appeared and slid down the rocky slope to stand in the road ahead of them.

'Stop where you are!' he ordered.

It was Talthybius. Though he stood confidently before them, he was unarmed and wore no armour.

'He must have come through the sally port in the north wall,' Clytaemnestra hissed in Eperitus's ear. 'Don't let him stand in our way. Knock him down if you have to and let's be gone!'

But before Eperitus could even think to attack the herald, the c.h.i.n.king of metal and the soft slipping of leather sandals on stone announced the arrival of seven more men on the slope to their right. They quickly rushed down the steep incline and formed a line behind Talthybius, sealing off the only escape from the city.

Eperitus could tell by the overlapping plates of their ceremonial body armour and the boars' tusks on their helmets that they were members of Agamemnon's elite guard, and would not be knocked aside as easily as the militiamen at the gates. But as he felt his hope diminish, Eperitus knew he could not allow them to prevent Iphigenia escaping the terrible fate that Agamemnon had planned for her. He felt his old, dogged sense of determination fill the void that hope had vacated, and with a dark look in his eyes stepped forward.

'I've no fight with you,' he announced, raising the palm of his hand in sign of parley. 'Stand aside and let us pa.s.s.'

'As one of Odysseus's men you can do as you please,' Talthybius replied. 'But the queen and her daughter are forbidden to leave Mycenae.'

'Iphigenia's life is in peril, Talthybius. I'm taking her and her mother to a place of safety, and for that reason you must let us go.'

The herald shook his head dismissively. 'There's no danger to the girl as long as Agamemnon is here. Now, stand aside, Eperitus, or face the consequences.'

'd.a.m.n your stupidity, Talthybius,' Eperitus spat. 'Don't you realize it's Agamemnon she's in danger from? The king has lost his senses: he's going to take Iphigenia to Aulis and sacrifice her to the G.o.ds!'

The self-a.s.sured smile was swept from Talthybius's face and the men behind him looked at each other uncertainly. Eperitus turned to Iphigenia, standing behind him with her mother's hands on her shoulders, and saw the look of shock and dread on her face. He tried to comfort her with a smile but could hardly disguise his own fear and growing sense of panic.

'Don't be absurd, Eperitus,' Talthybius said incredulously. 'The king would never kill his own daughter. Even in his darkest dreams he wouldn't do such a thing.'

'But it's true,' Clytaemnestra retorted. 'And Agamemnon's dreams have become very dark of late. Calchas has told him that the only way to lift the storms at Aulis is to sacrifice his own daughter, and in his madness Agamemnon believes him. That's why I implored Eperitus to escort us from the city and if you try to stop us, you and all your men will be committing murder.'

'Don't listen to them, Talthybius,' said a voice from the top of the slope. They looked up to see Calchas standing at the corner of the city wall. 'The king is no more mad than I am, and if you let the girl escape you'll be held accountable for preventing the war against Troy.'

Talthybius's face was filled with doubt as he looked from Calchas to Clytaemnestra and back again. 'Then is what the queen says true?' he asked the priest. 'Does Agamemnon intend to kill his own daughter?'

Calchas pointed to the heavens, where the darkness was being pushed back by the light of the new day. 'The G.o.ds must be appeased!' he cried. 'Only the girl's blood will satisfy them, and unless you want the fleet to remain at Aulis until it rots then you will do as your king demands.'

Talthybius looked across at Eperitus and shook his head apologetically. Then he stepped back and waved his men forward. Eperitus looked down at Iphigenia, his face stern and sad.

'You always wanted to see me fight, Jenny,' he said, then laid one of his spears on the paved road and turned to face the line of approaching Mycenaeans.

The soldiers spread across the road and prepared to fight. They eased the tall shields from their shoulders and slipped their left arms through the leather grips, altering their stance so that the weight was balanced evenly. Their reserve spears were cast into a pile at the side of the road and the remaining weapons turned towards Eperitus, the sharpened bronze tips gleaming coldly in the morning light.