The Oracles of Troy by Glyn Iliffe

Author:Glyn Iliffe
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2013-10-23T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-three

NEOPTOLEMUS AND EURYPYLUS

The volley of spears was followed by the anguished cries of men and the whinnies of dying horses. Panic tore through the orderly ranks of the Trojans as mounts crashed to the ground in clouds of dust and riders struggled to control their startled beasts. Eperitus’s weapon had hit the base of his target’s spine, sending him twisting in bloody agony from the back of his horse. Gripping his remaining spear, he joined the Argives and Ithacans as they rushed the confused cavalrymen. Odysseus and Diomedes led the charging Greeks, but ahead of them all was Neoptolemus, his father’s spear retrieved and held out before him. A Trojan noble, resplendent in his cuirass of overlapping bronze scales and his boars’ tusk helmet, dug his heels into his horse’s flanks and came out to meet him. Neoptolemus’s spear found his chest with stunning speed and the man toppled back from his horse, a look of shock on his face. In a single, fluid movement, Neoptolemus drew out his sword and hewed the man’s head from his shoulders. Then the line of advancing Greeks swept past him and smashed into the frightened mass of their enemies.

Eperitus’s weapon found the throat of an ageing rider, dyeing his white beard red as the blood gushed out over his chest. He sensed a looming presence to his left and turned with his shield to meet the jabbing spear point of another horseman. The man’s thrust lacked the momentum of a full charge, though, and was easily brushed aside as Eperitus’s spear simultaneously found his attacker’s upper arm, tearing through the unprotected muscle. Dropping his weapon with a cry of pain, the Trojan flicked back his heels and sent his mount galloping out of the melee and away to safety across the plain.

Others were not so fortunate. The ruin of dead horses and riders was all about, but the worst of the destruction was piled around Neoptolemus. Standing amid the corpses of men and beasts, he dealt out death with a speed and ferocity that reminded Eperitus of Achilles. He wielded the great shield as if it were a wooden toy, parrying every blow that his attackers dared aim at him, while his sword found their flesh again and again until it was running with gore. Then, as Eperitus watched in silent admiration, someone pointed at the god-made armour that had so awed and terrified the Trojans in earlier battles. A cry of dismay went up and Neoptolemus’s enemies fell back, leaving a ring of annihilation around him. The shout was repeated, spreading quickly through the hundreds of closely packed horsemen, and though they outnumbered their foes several times over they began to withdraw from the fight, some of the horses rearing and flailing the air in panic as they retreated. The shouts were in the Trojan tongue, but Eperitus understood them and smiled.

‘Achilles! Achilles has returned from the dead!’

Now the mauled cavalry were streaming away, fleeing in horror at the return of

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