The Gates Of Troy by Glyn Iliffe

in a ponytail that danced cheerfully with each movement of her head. Odysseus had fallen in love with her that night, and with a combination of persistence and wiliness he had won her heart and made her his queen.
    She turned and received a small white bundle from her body slave, Actoris, who stood in the deeper shadows behind her. Then she stepped forward into the sunlight and, with a smile, held the silent baby at arm’s length towards her husband.
    ‘It’s a boy,’ she said, as Odysseus mounted the threshold and took the child in his arms.
    The king looked down at his son and there were tears in his eyes. The people who had been criss-crossing the courtyard now stopped and stared at their king and queen, while at the gates the crowd pressed so close that many were forced over the porch. The hubbub of voices from beyond the palace walls fell silent, and in that moment of blissful peace Odysseus pulled Penelope to him and kissed her with a fierce passion. Then he stepped forward and, raising his son above his head, showed him to all who could see.
    ‘A son!’ he boomed proudly, the tears now flowing down his cheeks into his beard.
    A great cheer erupted from the crowd of onlookers, and as the noise swept back through the town Odysseus took the sleeping child back into his arms and whispered something in Penelope’s ear. Then he turned and beckoned Eperitus to join them.
    Despite the continued cheering and his father’s handling of him, the baby was still asleep as Eperitus looked down at him. He had a red face with little features that were screwed up as if with concentration; his tiny fists were pulled up to his cheeks, and his head was covered in shiny black hair that curled in every direction.
    ‘What will you call him?’ he asked, looking at Odysseus and Penelope. The king was still staring down at the child, studying the miniature details of his son, but Penelope met Eperitus’s eyes and smiled.
    ‘It’s the father’s duty to name his son,’ she said.
    ‘Telemachus. His name is Telemachus,’ Odysseus answered. He gave Eperitus a wide grin. ‘And when he’s old enough to walk, you can teach him to use a sword and throw a spear.’
    ‘And I’ll teach him how to use a bow,’ Antiphus added, stepping onto the raised threshold. He was followed by Polites, whose brutal face was softened with wonder as he stared down at the baby. Then Actoris appeared and reminded Penelope that the child should not be exposed too long to the sun.
    Eperitus slipped into the crowd that had formed before the threshold. As he made for the gate, an old woman stopped him.
    ‘Is it true what they’re saying, sir?’ she asked eagerly. ‘A son?’
    ‘Yes, a healthy looking lad,’ he replied, forcing a smile.
    ‘Praise Zeus and Artemis and all the gods!’ she exulted, holding both hands in the air and spinning round with glee.
    But Eperitus was already starting to run, wanting to be as far away from the cheering crowds as his legs could take him. He forced his way through the press of bodies until he was beyond the town and climbing the twisting path that led up the flanks of Mount Neriton. When he reached the top he relieved the lookout of his duties and sat down beneath the thatched awning that provided the only shelter from sun, rain or wind, and looked out at the blue mass of the Peloponnese. He watched the merchant ships drift gently up and down the coast until the setting of the sun forced them to find ports or inlets for the night. The eastern sky was beginning to pale and the rocks all around him had turned a gentle shade of pink, reflecting the crimson fire in the sky behind Eperitus as the sun sank below the western edge of the world. Then he heard the sound of loosened gravel and saw Arceisius approach from the direction of the town.
    ‘I saw Thestor wandering around the palace,’ he said as he approached the awning, ‘when I knew he should have been up here, so I guessed this was where I might find