Odysseus: The Return

by Valerio Massimo Manfredi

  ‘What land is this, wanaxa? Who lives here? Is there a city I can reach on foot, where I can ask for help? As soon as I can I will give you back these rich garments, which were not meant for a man reduced so low.’

  She drew close, close enough to smell the lavender, I think. She’d understood that I wasn’t a common man, could see that I venerated her beauty and respected her rank.

  ‘Who are you?’ she asked me. She seemed to be struck by the change I’d undergone. Had my goddess, perhaps, enhanced my looks so she would be fascinated by me?

  ‘My name is . . . I don’t think my name would tell you anything. I’m nothing more than a castaway who has been sorely stricken by bad fortune. Please, tell me where I find myself.’

  ‘This is an island, foreigner. It’s called Scheria and my people are known as the Phaeacians. We are the best and the boldest sailors in the world. There’s no land that we haven’t reached and none unknown to us. Our island is so distant from any other inhabited land that we’ve never fought a war since we’ve been here, but our men are formidable warriors, ready to die for our homeland if necessary.

  ‘The city I come from is close by. It’s from there we travelled this morning on the cart you see there, drawn by those mules. It is ruled by my father Alcinous and my mother Arete. I am their daughter, Nausicaa, and I have five brothers, two of whom are married. I’ll gladly take you to our palace – you’ll see wondrous things there. But listen well: as soon as we enter, throw yourself at the feet of my mother, not of my father. If you convince her, you’ll have convinced him as well, and the twelve elders of the council. Tell her the truth.’

  I nodded. The girls had finished gathering the dried garments from the line and wrapped them in large cloths, which they loaded onto the cart. Then they all got onto the cart along with the princess. I followed on foot.

  We crossed rich pastures with herds of cows and flocks of sheep, vineyards and olive groves, orchards full of trees laden with fruit. Tufts of spiralling leaves rose from tall, luxuriant palm trees, bursting with fruit as well. A couple of wooden bridges allowed us to cross rushing streams like the one that had greeted me at the seashore the night before. Slowly the city began to appear: it encircled a harbour and was surrounded by mighty walls. A citadel stood in a commanding position above the city. Several ships had been pulled aground alongside the road and shipwrights were busy at work planing down oarblades and shaping curved planks for the hulls.

  Nausicaa turned to me: ‘Don’t follow me too closely, I don’t want people to talk. They’ll say: “Who is that good-looking stranger the princess has in tow? Where did she find him? Where is she taking him? She must have picked him as her husband. She’s too haughty to accept a nice boy from her own city.” There’s nothing they like better than gossip, you know?’ In the meantime she was pointing at a wood of oaks, cypresses and olive trees at a short distance: ‘See that grove of trees over there? You can wait there for a while. You’ll find shade under the trees, and fresh water. I’ll go to the palace first. Let some time go by before you follow. I’ll come to welcome you at the gate.’

  My heart laughed, because that was Nausicaa’s way of telling me that she thought I was a handsome man. Before we parted, she said: ‘As you make your way to the palace, don’t stop to talk to anyone. It’s rare for anyone to come here. As I told you, we’re far away from any other land and people here don’t tend to like strangers.’

  I slowed my pace to put more distance between us so I wouldn’t excite the curiosity of the inhabitants and I stopped when I got to the wood that she’d pointed out. I waited there long enough for the princess to reach the palace, counting her steps and measuring her words in my heart. Then, when I was sure sufficient time had passed, I started on my way again. The clothes I wore made me look like one of them and, since I spoke to no one and held my head low as if I were absorbed in thought, no one found me odd enough to stop me.

  As I walked up towards the citadel I wondered at the view of the harbour that opened itself up to my eyes: there were hundreds of vessels of every size there, cargo ships and war galleys with curved rostra, bristling with oars. The machines that towered at the end of the wharf were so huge that only Hephaestus, the god of blacksmiths, could have built something so wondrous. I imagined that they had been posted there to defend the port against any outside aggression. I’d never seen such things.

  When I was high enough, I noted with surprise something that had remained hidden to my sight until then: a tall mountain rose behind the city and at its peak was a boulder of enormous dimensions, seemingly as big as the city itself. From the road I was on, which led up to the citadel, I could clearly see that it was perched quite precariously; just a small part of its base was touching the mountain. The back of the boulder was completely detached, and it would appear that any tremor, any vibration of the ground, could have jolted it and sent it tumbling down onto the city. None of the passers-by seemed even slightly alarmed, however. I had to think that the immense boulder had, perhaps, always been there. The city’s inhabitants had been born under its looming threat, and perhaps their fathers and their fathers’ fathers before them. They were not at all frightened by it.

  I reached the citadel and found myself standing in front of the palace. I’d never seen anything remotely resembling it. Wide steps led up to an imposing colonnade. The shafts of the columns were ivory in colour and the capitals were painted red and gold. Behind them, in their shadows, stood the entry gate framed by finely sculpted carvings. The same motifs decorated the windows under another colonnaded balcony directly above the entrance, and a magnificent painting graced the walls between them, seeming to portray an entire people migrating from one land to another. A scene of one hundred ships crossing the wide sea. Blue dolphins leapt from the water alongside the long ships with sails bellying in the wind, as though to escort or guide them. In the background was the land the ships were leaving: it was red, with tall swaying palm trees and lions hunting down other long-horned animals.

  At the base of the steps were two silver statues, so finely crafted that it seemed Hephaestus himself could have cast and fashioned them using his incomparable skills. I was enchanted: they represented two gigantic Molossian hounds with eyes of flaming jasper and tails curved forward over their backs. I walked towards the steps with the idea of reaching the entrance gate. I had no sooner placed my foot on the first step than the dogs, one after another, turned their heads towards me, opened their mouths full of ivory fangs and let out a terrifying noise, like a bark. Then they began to move their paws and approach me. I stopped in shock, afraid to take my eyes off them, when I heard the ringing of laughter: it was Nausicaa.

  I turned towards her as she descended the steps.

  I said, still trembling: ‘These statues are marvellous. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.’

  Nausicaa smiled: ‘They’re not statues, as you’ve just seen. They are automata.’

  I shook my head without understanding.

  Nausicaa struck a kettledrum hanging from a pillar and the dog closed their gaping jaws and returned to their guard posts.

  ‘Now we can enter,’ she said with a smile. ‘Follow me.’

  I walked behind her: ‘What does the painting of the ships on the porch above us represent?’

  ‘The history of the Phaeacians, my people. We have not always lived here on Scheria, this island. We once lived in the land of Hypereia, near the cyclopes . . . we call the balcony above us the “porch of morning”. It tells of our exodus.’

  I could not help but grimace at the mention of the cyclopes. The memory of the monster who had slaughtered my comrades was still too fresh and too painful.

  Nausicaa noticed: ‘What’s wrong, foreigner?’

  ‘Nothing. I’ve heard say that the cyclopes are horrible, ferocious creatures.’

  ‘That they are. They were the reason why King Nausithous decided to abandon our ancestral home and to sail here. We are far away from everything else here but we
live well, in peace, and we lack nothing. This island is blessed by the gods.’

  Perhaps she read uncertainty in my eyes.

  ‘Why, don’t you think that’s so? You’ve seen crowded markets, the port teeming with ships, our cultivated fields, the fertile pastures and fat livestock.’

  ‘This is the loveliest place on earth, without a doubt.’

  One of her handmaids, in the meantime, had entered the palace, perhaps to announce our arrival. Nausicaa beckoned for me to follow. We crossed an entrance hall guarded by two tall warriors, armed with weapons I’d never seen before and wearing tunics and cloaks matching in colour.

  ‘Our colours distinguish us from anyone else on the battlefield, should we ever be attacked,’ explained the princess.

  We continued down a wide corridor with a floor made of artfully cut stones of different colours. Every now and then there was an inset dolphin carved from blue stone, the same animal I’d seen in the large painting on the facade. I realized they must represent the sea creatures that had guided the Phaeacians in their migration from Hypereia to Scheria. Any population that migrates always has an animal leading them: an eagle, a wolf, a bear. It must be sad to leave your homeland forever.

  Just a few more steps and I would be entering the throne room where I would find the king and queen. They would surely be more like gods than mortals. The door was open, guarded by two more sentries. They were very young. I wondered whether they had ever seen combat. Perhaps their fathers had, or their ancestors, when their people had been living near the land of the cyclopes, but surely not these youths. The island was so far from the rest of the world, they would scarcely have seen many foreigners, let alone fought them. When I entered, preceded by the princess, everyone turned to stare at me. They followed me with their eyes as if to observe every minimal detail of my mannerisms: the way I walked and the way I moved my hands. They were surely surprised at the clothing I was wearing, which they must have recognized.

  Before me were the king and queen, garbed in simple yet precious robes which they wore with grace and majesty. The queen had brown hair and light, amber-coloured eyes with long, black lashes and fine eyebrows. Her slim, harmonious figure was accented by her gown. The king had black hair with a few white threads here and there, a well-groomed beard and dark, deep eyes. He seemed much older than his wife. I was later to learn from Nausicaa that he was her mother’s uncle, and that he had married Arete after his brother’s death.

  I threw myself at the queen’s feet and embraced her knees: ‘Divine wanaxa,’ I said, ‘I am here to beseech your indulgence. I have suffered great misfortune. My raft was wrecked in a storm and I lost everything. The sea tossed me up onto the beach as darkness was falling, after I had spent a day and a night in the throes of the gale clinging on to a log . . .’

  I could sense that the queen was looking at my skinned, wounded hands and then at the robes I wore.

  ‘Not a single thing was left to me, not even a rag. From a distance, covering myself as best I could, I appealed to your lovely daughter who was washing linens at the river with her maidservants. I was truly a horrible sight, and all of the girls ran off except for her. She definitely has the courage of a great race in her heart, the sacred strength of her father and the grace and beauty of her mother.

  ‘It was she who showed me the road leading to the high palace. I beg you to grant me your protection. Have mercy on me.’

  Only then did I raise my eyes and I saw that my words had moved the queen. She motioned for me to stand and turned her gaze towards her husband.

  I turned to him then: ‘Great king, wanax Alcinous, I implore you to grant me your help and hospitality because I come in need of everything.’

  The king nodded. All of his gestures were slow and measured. This was how I imagined the immortal, celestial gods must move as they sat on their thrones in assembly. ‘You’ve already obtained your wish, for whatever my wife desires I desire as well. And because it is our custom to welcome the poor and derelict. Please join us this evening for dinner. When dusk draws near, we shall take our places at well-set tables and cheer our hearts with fine red wine as we listen to the song of our poet, who tells marvellous stories. Nausicaa will meanwhile show you your rooms and give you more garments, sandals and a belt, and finely crafted clasps for your cloak so it will not slip from your shoulders.’

  ‘My heart is full of gratitude, wanax,’ I replied. ‘From the moment when I began the long voyage of my endless return, I have never been welcomed thus, nor have I ever seen a land more blessed. At first glance, I mistook your daughter for a goddess.’

  I bowed deeply, kissed the hand of the king and that of the queen and followed the girl who had taken pity on me out towards the colonnaded porch. The view from the balcony took my breath away, so wondrous were the sights before my eyes. The sun was descending towards the sea and its vermilion light streaked through the passing clouds, scarlet sails flitting above the still, shiny waters of the port.

  ‘Do you like our island? And our city?’ asked Nausicaa as the declining sun set her cheeks and hair aglow.

  ‘More than any other place I’ve ever seen in all my life . . . But there is one thing that burdens my heart.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  I reached out my hand and pointed to the mountaintop rising beyond the citadel and the palace. ‘There, that enormous mass overhanging the city and the port. From below it looks like part of the mountain, but from here it seems that only a miracle is holding it in place on that rocky cliff. It would take nothing to make it fall.’

  I was about to say that Poseidon, the blue god, the shaker of land, could make the island tremble with his trident and cause the boulder to come tumbling down, but these words did not leave my lips. If such a disaster were to happen, the blame could only be mine. I couldn’t bear the thought of bringing harm to such a beautiful and prosperous land, and to the sweet princess who had welcomed, nourished and dressed me and who was now accompanying me to my rooms inside the palace of her father the king.

  Nausicaa’s eyes, always so serene, were clouded by fleeting sadness. ‘We don’t think about it, foreign guest. That boulder has rested there since the beginning of time. Why should it fall now?’

  ‘Forgive me,’ I said. ‘I should not have spoken. I’ve upset you over nothing.’

  Nausicaa didn’t answer, but gestured for me to follow her to my quarters and I did so.

  When we reached them, she opened the door for me and bid me enter. Her perfect face seemed serene once again. ‘You’re wrong,’ she said. ‘It will never fall. We Phaeacians descend from Poseidon, the blue god, who fathered our first ancestor with a descendant of the Tribe of the Giants, Periboea. Why would he ever cause our land to quake?’

  I knew why, but I didn’t have the courage to say it.

  13

  THE DAY FOLLOWING MY ARRIVAL, the king and queen announced their intention to give a reception in my honour. I was already a respected guest; I had already slept in the palace. They could have asked me at that point who I was, but they did not do so. The king asked me only how I had reached the palace. I replied: ‘As I’ve already told you, wanax, your daughter allowed me to speak to her and she helped me. My raft had shattered to pieces and I had to swim far and long to avoid being crushed against the reefs. I came ashore at the mouth of your river, miserable and stripped of all my belongings.’

  ‘But it was not she,’ said Alcinous, ‘who offered you protection. It was you who asked for it.’

  Nausicaa clearly kept no secrets from her parents. Alcinous had asked me a question that he already knew the answer to, to show me that nothing happened in his kingdom without him knowing it.

  ‘That’s true,’ I replied. ‘What else could I have done?’

  ‘And the garments you were wearing,’ asked the queen, ‘where did you get them?’ She was perfectly informed about this as well, but she wanted me to know that nothing escaped her.

  I bowed my head. ‘Your daughter gave th
em to me, splendid wanaxa. I had no choice but to ask her. I had nothing left, not even a rag to wrap around my loins. She showed me where I could wash and she gave me fine oil to rub on my tortured body and the robe that I still wear now.’

  The queen smiled with her eyes, for I had told her the truth, and the king spoke again: ‘You are welcome under our roof. You have the looks of a strong, courageous, noble man. It is our custom to help those in need and you have shown that you deserve the help you have requested.’

  And thus I stayed on at the palace of King Alcinous, Nausicaa’s father. There was truly something godlike in that man and in his wife Arete, a woman majestic in her beauty. They reigned over an industrious – and one would say happy – people in a land distant from all others, blessed by nature and by the gods. The inhabitants were long-lived, and for the entire time that I remained on the island, I never saw anyone who was crippled or deformed, no one hunched or limping. They seemed like a race born perfect, or perhaps it was the absence of war and conflict that saved them from ever being injured or maimed.

  All five sons lived in the palace and emanated the same tranquil strength as their parents. At times I sensed that Nausicaa’s brothers were a bit diffident towards me, but that was natural since they couldn’t help but notice how she looked at me and hung on my words. For them I was still a stranger without a name or a homeland.

  The sovereign was assisted in his governing duties by twelve elders, the wisest and most venerable in the entire kingdom; each one of them carried a sceptre and was called king. They were the first to be invited to the reception, summoned by the king’s herald along with other distinguished guests. Alcinous had also sent for the city’s – and indeed the island’s – most famous singer: Demodocus, who was blind but gifted with a divine voice and the art of storytelling, accompanying his words with a lyre. He was the only person I ever met on Scheria who had been struck by infirmity, but in this case the gods had been just because he had been compensated by the harmony of his voice and his song. The gods always demand a high price for their gifts. This had been the case with wanax Admetus in Pherai and with Cassandra in Troy, and it was thus with Demodocus.