My father’s head dropped. ‘Our world risks destruction,’ he said. ‘The war has mown down the best of our youth, the men who could have been governing Achaia and holding us together now. The most valiant and powerful kings have died or disappeared: Agamemnon, Diomedes, Idomeneus, Achilles, Ajax of Locris and Ajax of Salamis . . .’ I trembled upon hearing that name. I could see Great Ajax’s vexed spirit turn his back to me and vanish in the mists of Hades.
‘Nestor still reigns unopposed,’ continued my father, ‘but he mourns the loss of Antilochus, his best-loved son. When I first heard that he’d returned, I’d go often to visit him. He was inconsolable. Then, when I understood that you wouldn’t be coming back, I stopped. I didn’t want to weep over a lost son with him. At least he had others. I only had you. And when I lost your mother, I was alone. Alone in this house. I’ve been living without human companionship for years.’
‘I know, atta. You always told me that in war there are no winners. Everyone loses.’
Sometimes we’d go walking through the woods, down the mountain paths, and once, towards sunset, we found ourselves at the boulder that overlooked the palace. The place where, as a little boy, I would toss coloured stones, trying to see my future.
‘Remember, atta? Remember that afternoon? You’d been hunting, and you found me sitting right here. You stopped to talk to me, you, the Argonaut hero, the king of Ithaca. With a child.’
‘With my son . . .’
‘What peace, what joy. You can’t understand what it was for me to hear you talk, to listen to your adventures . . .’
‘And now the tables are turned. It’s you telling me about your adventures.’
‘You’re the best father I could have ever had, atta.’
‘And you are the son every father would have wished for. We didn’t have much time together, did we? But if you still want your father’s company, come by whenever you like. I have nothing to do.’
I’d go often. Being with him brought me serenity and Penelope encouraged me to spend time with him. Sometimes I’d take Telemachus with me. I liked the idea of three generations of Ithacan kings talking to each other, telling stories, going hunting in the woods or fishing along the coast.
Night was my torment. Everything took on the shape of a nightmare. My heart ached. I could find no peace. The shadows of the suitors crowded into the courtyard, squeaking like bats. I watched them diving straight into the mouth of Hades. That’s how I’d begun to see the well in the middle of the courtyard: as the well of souls.
I wouldn’t go to bed until very late at night, when Penelope was already sleeping. Or so I thought. But as soon as I had stretched out next to her, coming so light-footed and silent that she couldn’t have possibly heard me, she would sigh, and then turn to me and say: ‘Don’t torture yourself, Odysseus, don’t inflict more suffering on yourself. You’ve already suffered enough.’ She would caress me, press her body close to mine.
‘I know you’ll have to leave again,’ she would say then. ‘But don’t lose yourself to brooding now. How could it have gone any differently? It’s true, you spilled much blood, you gave vent to your anger. But you were right to do so. Your bow had waited many years for you. Your grandfather Autolykos had ordered you not to take it to war with you. Remember? He said it must never leave this house.’
Sometimes she took my head between her arms and whispered softly into my ear. Such a sweet voice. She was trying to get used to the idea that I’d be leaving again.
‘Where will you go?’ she’d ask me quietly in the dark.
‘Far from the sea. That’s what the Theban seer told me. That means east. Until I meet a man who asks me a question. That’s the sign that I’ve arrived.’
‘And when will you leave?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t really understand when myself. The gods will have to guide me. Ill fate has tainted my every move until now. I was kept from returning, made to suffer more than even I could have imagined. And now another journey looms: the last one. They will have to send me a sign. Athena has always protected me, always inspired me in my heart.’
‘Does she still speak to you?’
‘No. I haven’t heard her voice or seen her since the day of slaughter. If she’s still close to me, she’s so well disguised that I can’t discern her. She wanted to be there at the massacre. She wanted to see me in combat, watch as I struck, slashed, murdered. Now she must be thinking of other things.’
‘Don’t say that. It’s she who brought you back to me.’
‘So that I could leave again.’
‘But at least I’ve seen you, embraced you. We’ve made love, slept together in our bed, the bed you made for me with your own hands when we were still so young. You can’t imagine how much this means to me. I didn’t want to die without seeing you again. I couldn’t believe that destiny, or the gods, would be so cruel with me.’
‘After all these long years away from my island, seeing you was bliss. When I watched you come down the stairs, cross the great hall, so proud and so beautiful, I couldn’t believe it was true. My heart was full of shame, because I had to cover myself with rags and feign being a wrinkled old man. I wanted to be as handsome as a god for you.’
‘You’ve always been as handsome as a god for me. It’s impossible to put out that light in your eyes . . . Will you make peace with your people?’
‘I have.’
‘No, you haven’t. You made a pact to avoid more bloodshed. That was only natural. No one wants to reign over an empty island.’
‘I thought you wanted me to avenge you: your honour, your anguish, your fears.’
‘I did. But now you must reconcile with your people. A king is a father to his people. You yourself have said so. You’ve inflicted a terrible punishment on them. Now you have to show compassion and atone for the blood you spilled so that it will not cry out from the earth and call for more.’
I said nothing. I held her close and sought sleep in her arms.
I AWOKE EARLY, took the dogs, put on my sword and left the palace. I was looking for Eumeus. ‘What should I do?’ I thought, my heart wishing that Mentor were with me.
The wind picked up, blowing eastward from the sea, rustling the treetops on the mountainside. The dogs sniffed at the air as the wind ruffled the tufts of hair hanging over their eyes.
‘Is that you?’ I asked aloud, looking all around. ‘I need you. Can you hear me?’
The branches opposite from where I stood were stirring and the dogs were barking in that specific direction. My hand dropped to my sword. Out stepped a boy of thirteen or fourteen who threw himself at my feet. ‘It’s only me, wanax,’ he said, trembling like a leaf from head to toe. ‘Don’t hurt me.’
‘Who are you?’
The boy was terrified. His eyes were fixed on my hand and then dropped to the ground.
‘What are you afraid of?’ I asked.
He shook his head as if to show me that he couldn’t get a word out. His chin was quivering and he looked as if he were about to cry.
‘What’s your name?’ I insisted.
‘My name is Euthymides. I’m Eupites’ youngest son. Please don’t hurt me, I beg of you!’ He tried to embrace my knees, to kiss my hand.
‘You’re Antinous’ brother . . . oh, mighty gods. What are you doing here?’
‘I was looking for a place to hide. In the city, everyone is saying there’s no man alive who can match your strength and that your rage is without limit. They’re saying that no one will be spared. You’ve killed my father and my brother. I beg of you, let me live!’
I helped him up from the ground and looked into his eyes. ‘You’ve done nothing wrong, Euthymides. You have nothing to fear from me. It wasn’t me who killed your father. It was King Laertes whose spear stopped him from attacking us.’
Euthymides burst into tears.
‘But it’s as if I killed him myself,’ I went on. ‘I have slain all those who offended the queen my wife, who plotted to murder my son an
d who gorged themselves on the property of an absent man who could not defend himself or his family. They forced my father King Laertes to flee to the countryside, to live in penury. But you have no blame in any of this. No one will hurt you. I swear it.’
The boy seemed calmer, but his look was still wary.
‘Do you want to talk to me?’ I asked.
He shook his head, without moving his eyes. He didn’t want to talk. His gaze burned into my heart.
‘You’d like to avenge your father and your brother. Wouldn’t you?’
No answer.
‘I know that’s what you’re thinking. I’m willing to give you my sword so you can exact revenge here, now, on me. But hear me out first. Imagine that you have to leave for a war you didn’t want, abandoning your bride, your infant son. You suffer unending grief: wounds, fear, hunger. Horror. You watch as the best of your friends die, one after another. Then, finally, after a very long time, you head back home. But you lose your way, you end up in a forsaken, unfamiliar world where you have to fight horrible, bloodthirsty monsters, where you have to summon the spirits of the dead from the Underworld to try to discover how and when you can ever return home . . .’
The boy’s eyes were wide with wonder. He’d never heard such a story.
‘Then, after years and years, you finally set foot on your land again. But what is your home like now? Invaded by boastful, violent young men who scheme to devour your belongings, to seduce your wife, to kill your son. How would you have felt? What would you have done? Tell me, and then I’ll give you my sword and you can use it on me and avenge your family. Tell me, now,’ I repeated.
I don’t know what the expression on my face was like as I said those words, but the boy was staring at me in a stupor. He dropped his head and remained mute.
I drew my sword from its sheath and handed it to him hilt first. ‘If you think that your brother and your father were in the right and that I deserve to die, your time has come. Take advantage of it. You may not have another chance.’
He ran off weeping, instead, and I continued on my way towards Eumeus’ pigsty. I found him there making goat cheese. He came up to me and kissed my hand. ‘Wanax! Why didn’t you let me know? I would have made a good lunch for us, a meal worthy of you.’
He bustled about finding me a chair, stoking up the fire, arranging meat on a spit.
‘Don’t trouble yourself so,’ I said, ‘I haven’t got much of an appetite. I’ve come to keep my promises. As of today, you are part of my family. This is your house, the flocks and herds you care for are yours. You can choose a bride from among the handmaids, the one you like best. I hope she’ll give you sturdy children. One day you will tell them that the destroyer of sacred Troy is beholden to you for his kingdom. Tomorrow I will visit Philoetius as well, and I will give him the same gifts as a reward for his loyalty.’
Eumeus fell to his knees, deeply moved. He kissed my hand time and time again, repeating: ‘Thank you, wanax, thank you. I will be faithful to you as long as I live, and continue to work for you as I always have.’
‘Living . . . it won’t be easy to live in this place any more. I longed to return for so many years, but now I feel like a foreigner in my own land. I’ve brought ruin and destruction upon my people. Who will ever want to talk to me again?’
‘You’re wrong,’ replied Eumeus. ‘Many, here in Ithaca, believe that you acted with justice, that the suitors deserved the end they came to. Don’t say such things. You’ve returned to your home and your family, try to find peace for yourself. Time takes care of everything. Those who are weeping now will forget their troubles, because no one can suffer forever.’
‘What about you? What’s it like when you go down to the city? Do you feel threatened? Do they hate you because you helped me?’
‘No, no one dares. Everyone, even your enemies, realize that without the aid of the gods, four of us could never have prevailed over more than fifty adversaries, some of whom were armed. Everyone knows that peace has been made.’
‘Peace . . . I don’t know what that word means any more.’
‘Then why don’t you talk to your people? Why don’t you call for an assembly? Why don’t you allow them to see you? You need to understand what your people are feeling, both the good and the bad. When you’ve done this, you’ll know how to go on. You’ll stop tormenting yourself and you’ll forget the war and your long wanderings.’
‘Not now,’ I replied. ‘Not now. When it’s time for me to go.’
‘What? You’re leaving again?’
‘Thus it is written. This is the prophecy of the Theban seer, great Tiresias, who I called up from the kingdom of the dead.’
‘Let me come with you, then. I’ll follow you anywhere.’
‘No. This time I’ll go alone. At least I won’t have to mourn any more lost comrades or listen to their parents weeping and groaning.’
Eumeus knew why I had come to his house: I wanted to settle my debt with him. Whatever happened, I wanted him to remember me as a man of my word, a man who always keeps his promises.
We went on talking for a very long time, waiting for dusk and the flight of the seagulls, reminiscing on times long ago and forgotten happiness. I had restored law and justice to Ithaca, I had won back my house and my family, but the horizon was bleak, the clouds black and low.
In the end I left my faithful friend and descended the mountain slope, looking for the smoke wafting from my rooftop, seeking the sounds of home.
24
I REACHED THE PALACE as darkness was falling and the maidservants came out to receive me, to wash my hands and feet. Mai asked me to taste the roast to see if it was well cooked. Telemachus was outside, standing on the grass near the fountain, intent on planting a young ash tree (was it the season to be planting trees?). I was told that the queen was waiting for me in the hall for dinner.
Had I ever really been away? Had I ever left my island? Just then it seemed to me that I had never gone to sea. The sky was the same, the clouds as thin and wispy as they had ever been, the head of the pack looked like Argus (was it him?), the house in perfect order. I felt calm and I was enjoying that moment of peace. The sense of time never passing gave me the bittersweet sensation of an everlasting sunset, a lazy twilight that fluttered between evening and night.
Penelope was already sitting in her chair. Her eyes were edged with Egyptian bistre, her lips tinged red; she wore amber earrings and necklace. Her white gown was chequered and gave off golden reflections when she shifted. The neckline was opened in a wide rectangle at the front and back. It made me think of the gown with the ducklings that she was wearing when we first met and my heart was touched.
From the moment when I’d come ashore, I knew that reality would be different from my dreams. I knew that, as Calypso had told me, Penelope’s body would be different from the one that filled my imagination, but the light of the setting sun was flooding her with red gold and lighting up her eyes. She got up and came towards me. She kissed me, encircling my neck with her arms, pressing her hips against mine. What I wanted to do was take her up to our bed, nestled in the branches of the olive tree.
Euriclea removed my work tunic, passed her soft sponge over my skin and dried me gently. She dressed me again with a fresh tunic that skimmed my feet; it was purple, with a wide hem of white linen interwoven with golden threads. She wanted me to be happy as only a king can be: in his palace, surrounded by love and veneration, beloved by the gods. She almost made me feel like I was that happy king. Yet I wasn’t accustomed to such privileges any more.
I could hear the dogs yelping excitedly outside. Telemachus?
‘I’ve invited King Laertes your father,’ said Penelope. ‘I thought you’d be glad to see him.’
‘Of course, my darling. Is that him?’
She nodded. ‘I think it must be him. The dogs are noisier when Telemachus comes home. He always has a treat for them.’
The dogs, my father, my son, the setting sun, my royal tunic, my
bride. Mai running the household. Every thing, every person, had its own colours, shone with its own light. Could my heart heal its wounds?
‘Go to receive the king,’ Penelope ordered the maidservants and they scurried to do her bidding.
Outside was Philoetius’ voice as he halted the oxen who were pulling the cart. Then my father’s voice.
‘Atta!’
‘I couldn’t refuse an invitation from the king and queen,’ he said, entering.
The maids approached him with a silver basin and two linen towels. I watched as they washed my father’s hands and feet. My steward offered him a golden cup and filled it with our best wine.
‘I’d forgotten how good the wine is in this palace,’ he said, winking. ‘I see it hasn’t changed. And I’d forgotten what it means to be treated like a king.’
‘Why don’t you move back here with us?’ asked Telemachus, coming in. ‘You would be treated with great respect. We’ll send someone to work the land on your farm and you can go back whenever you like, on the mule or by cart.’
‘I have to think about it,’ replied my father. ‘Old men have their habits and mine have become quite stubborn indeed, I’m afraid.’
I thought about what my mother’s spirit had told me when she appeared to me in Hades. I could see all the marks of that harsh, lonely life in my father’s body and on his face. Not much remained of the man I remembered, but I loved him all the more for that. It was my absence that had broken his heart.
We took our places around the table, and after the wine had begun to lighten our hearts and chase away ugly thoughts, it felt as if we’d returned to the old days, when King Laertes would invite the island’s noblemen to dinner and Mentor entertained us with his stories late into the night.
Penelope retired, ascending the stairs that led to the upper floor, and I stayed to talk with my father and my son. There was a powerful bond between us: the blood of the kings of Ithaca flowed in our veins. I felt that the moment had come to loosen the knot that had been choking my heart and my throat.
‘I’ve reflected long and hard these past days,’ I began, ‘and I’ve spoken to Phemius. He’s a wise man and he says what he thinks.’
Odysseus: The Return Page 30