The Gates Of Troy by Glyn Iliffe Read Free Book Online

left eye and the bridge of his nose. The man staggered backwards and fell down the slope on the opposite side of the road.
    Arceisius rushed to Eperitus’s side, just as the other two bandits joined the attack. Eperitus’s opponent quickly proved himself an experienced swordsman, forcing the Ithacan backwards under a ferocious but accurate torrent of blows. The onslaught was met with all the speed and skill that Eperitus’s sharp instincts gave him, but his concern for Arceisius kept him distracted and prevented him from pressing his own attack. His worries were unfounded, though: he had spent four years training his squire for combat, teaching him every manoeuvre and trick with sword, shield and spear that he knew; and Arceisius had always proved a quick learner with no mean instinct for fighting. Now the endless drills were showing their worth as Arceisius fended off the Thessalian’s probing thrusts with ease. There was no time for the young man to think about what he was doing, only to react intuitively. Within a few moments, he had turned from defence to attack, pushing his opponent back towards the steep slope on the other side of the path.
    Eperitus recognized something of his younger self in Arceisius and smiled as he watched the fledgling warrior. Putting his concerns aside, he now turned his full attention on the man before him. He was young and bearded, with a single, angry eyebrow forming a black V across his forehead. His attacks were energetic and accompanied by grunts of exertion, but they were predictable and easy to parry. As Arceisius plunged his sword into his opponent’s chest, Eperitus beat aside another attack and began to stab and hack at the Thessalian, forcing him to think and react quicker and quicker as each new thrust came at him. Eventually, Eperitus’s skilful onslaught prised his enemy’s guard wide open and he pushed the point of his sword into the man’s liver. As the Thessalian fell to his knees, Eperitus withdrew his reddened blade from the man’s gut and swept his head from his shoulders.
    He turned and saw that the battle behind them was already over. Stepping across the corpse, he clapped Arceisius on the shoulder.
    ‘Well done, lad,’ he said. ‘You showed real skill with that sword.’
    ‘Thanks,’ Arceisius replied uncertainly, looking down at the man he had slain. There was a shadow of distaste in his expression – a hint of doubt – but as he sensed his captain’s eyes upon him he looked up and forced a smile to his lips. ‘Thanks, sir.’
    None of the bandits remained standing and at a quick count Eperitus could see that all the Ithacans had survived, which did not surprise him given the fact they had enjoyed the advantage of spears and shields against the swords of the Thessalians. Odysseus stood in the middle of the carnage, the gore running in rivulets down the shaft of his spear. He ignored the pleas of the wounded men around him; they had been given their chance to surrender and now the only mercy they would be shown was a dagger across the throat to quicken their passing.
    ‘You were late,’ Eperitus called to him. ‘That giant nearly killed me.’
    Odysseus smiled cockily. ‘I was exactly on time. The fact you’re still alive proves it.’
    At that moment, Eurylochus came striding across the path to the point where the short bandit’s body lay. He seized hold of his arrow, tugged it free from the dead man’s chest and proceeded to wipe it clean on the corner of his cloak, but as he slid it back into the leather quiver that hung at his waist, Eperitus grabbed him by the chest and spun him around.
    ‘What do you want?’ Eurylochus asked indignantly.
    ‘This!’
    Eperitus drew back his fist and slammed it into Eurylochus’s smug, round face. Blood exploded from his nostrils as the force of the blow sent him staggering backwards. He caught his heel on the corpse of the short bandit and fell in a heap, one hand clutching at his broken nose.
    ‘What in