Chasing Odysseus

by S. D. Gentill

  His sons looked at him, bemused.

  “And how am I supposed to know what those things are?” asked Cadmus. He looked to his brothers for help. Lycon shrugged.

  “Women like shiny things,” Machaon suggested sagely. “Sparkly, shiny things.”

  “Like what?” Cadmus was unimpressed by his brother’s insight.

  Agelaus sighed and gripped his son’s shoulder. “Just let her choose what she wants.” He nodded decisively. “I am sure it will be shiny.”

  “Was it not the immortal gods who spun catastrophe into a thread of events to make a song for generations not yet born?”

  The Odyssey Book VIII

  BOOK III

  IT WAS TWILIGHT. HERO put the finishing touches on her offering and set it alight. It was a larger sacrifice than she normally made, and she had spent a good part of the day gathering rare flowers and perfect fruits. She had agreed to make no further sacrifices until they returned from Abydos, and so she sought to appease the gods before she left. Her brothers were frustratingly indifferent to the expectations of the Pantheon. She sighed. She wondered if they knew how hard she worked to protect them from the gods.

  Hero looked up towards the rocky outcrop a little way above her. Though she could not make them out, she knew that her father and brothers stood upon it, watching the Greek forces below. She clambered up the steep face to join them.

  “They’ve been building all day,” Machaon was saying. “It’s difficult to tell what it is, but it’s large.”

  “The men are being directed from the tent of Odysseus,” Lycon commented, squinting. “Whatever it is, it is his doing.”

  Agelaus shook his head with concern. “Odysseus is clever. This may be some new form of warfare. It could be that he does not intend to go after all.”

  “Perhaps I should not go right now,” Cadmus said twisting his staff into the ground — his habit when in thought.

  Hero gasped with disappointment, and they noticed her for the first time.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Cad,” Machaon said quickly. “The Greeks come up with some absurd plan every few days. This will come to nothing.”

  Agelaus smiled reassuringly at Hero, and spoke to his son. “You will be gone only a few days, and we will require the grain regardless of what Odysseus builds.” He squeezed Cadmus’ shoulder. “You will not miss anything, my son.”

  “I’d better not,” Cadmus replied, but he smiled. “Come on, Hero, we’d better go catch our horses. Have you chosen a god yet? I meant what I said — only one.”

  “Zeus,” said Hero, naming the King of Gods.

  Cadmus laughed. “Are you sure?” he said. “Pan is the god of Herdsmen you know, and he does not require such incessant devotion.”

  Hero looked at him archly. The horned god with the lower body of a goat, Pan was indeed the god of the Herdsmen, but his power, though ancient, was minor. How could the men of her house not realise that in these troubled times they needed the aid of the greater Pantheon? Pan did not require great tribute, because he was a deity of easier times — the fortunes of war were dictated by the fury and favour of those who ruled Olympus.

  Lycon put his arm about her shoulders. “Cad’s not serious, Hero,” he said. “Actually, he probably is,” he added after a moment’s thought, “but you should ignore him.”

  “You take Zeus to Abydos.” Machaon grinned. “You’ll probably need the King of Gods to keep Cadmus in line. We’ll make do with Pan.”

  Hero shook her head She was living in a family of heretics. Regardless, she loved them, and she wanted the gods to smile on them always ... even when she was not around to ensure it.

  They set out for Abydos as the moon rose, nearly round, in the darkness. Their horses walked close together for Cadmus had tethered Hero’s mount to his. She could ride well, but he did not trust her eyes in the darkness.

  They were joined by two of Brontor’s sons, and the wife of one of them. Agelaus had quietly ensured that his daughter would not have to make this journey in the company of men alone.

  They rode in silence to the northern vale, careful that any lingering Greek patrols would not be alerted to their movement.

  Hero waited by a spring whilst the others separated forty bulls from the rest of the herd. She gazed at the moon’s reflection, remembering how Agelaus had brought her to the spring when she had been just six. He’d realised that her weak eyes had never seen the night sky and he’d shown her the moon in the spring’s surface, close enough to touch. He had taught her to read the constellations as they appeared in the tranquil pool. Now whenever she looked at the sky in the water she thought of the gentle man who had given her the moon and the stars.

  Driving forty head before them, they moved with quiet efficiency towards Abydos. Cadmus and Hero rode behind the herd, urging stragglers on. As they went, he told her stories that he was convinced were amusing and his good humour was so infectious, that she laughed as often as he.

  The journey to the trading town was more arduous than Hero had anticipated. They stopped only to rest the horses and travelled through the night as well as the day. Cadmus, and the others, seemed unaware of the hardship.

  “Come, Hero, you can ride with me,” Cadmus said, noticing that she could barely maintain her seat on the steed’s back. He pulled her onto his own mount, and placed his strong arm around her. Secure in his grasp, she fell asleep. Hero had become so accustomed to the natural care of her brothers that she barely noticed how protected she was.

  She opened her eyes to the sight of more people than she had ever seen. Abydos. She watched, mesmerised by the colour and activity as their cattle were driven into the enclosure of a trader. The trader opened his home to them and welcomed them to a table laden with the finest of foods.

  “The Greeks can teach us nothing about hospitality,” he said proudly as he plied them with sweets and watered wine.

  Once they had eaten and washed, Cadmus turned to his sister.

  “Are you ready to see Abydos?”

  “Aren’t you tired?” she asked, surprised. “You haven’t slept.”

  Cadmus glanced at the sons of Brontor and smiled. “We’re Herdsmen, Hero. We have long known how to sleep with our eyes open.”

  She smiled happily in return.

  They spent the day exploring the great market of Abydos, which traded in all kinds of exotic beasts and items, as well as cattle, grain and other foodstuff.

  Cadmus was amused by the unbridled excitement of his normally contained little sister. He kept her close, knowing that he had to be only a short distance away for Hero to lose sight of him — and that the markets attracted all manner of men. He watched as she gazed, awed and intrigued, at the cages of animals from distant lands. Time and again, he caught her hand as she darted away from him, overcome by some new spectacle. He stood patiently by, while she wandered through stalls of finely woven fabrics and spoke with the purveyors of jewels and adornments.

  “Who could bear to part with these?” Hero asked in wonder, running her hand over garments edged with tiny bells that rang lightly with every breath of wind. She closed her eyes and inhaled, trying to absorb the movement, the noise, and the thrill of the market.

  “Father wishes you to have whatever you want.” Cadmus pressed Agelaus’ pouch into her hand. “Buy something,” he added when she started to protest. “Anything. It will make the old man happy.”

  For a moment Hero was motionless, overwhelmed. She had never really wanted for anything, but never had she imagined the existence of such beautiful things as she had seen this day. There was one thing. Where had she seen it? It was just a few stalls back. She grabbed her brother’s hand and dragged him towards where she had stopped a short while before. Hero remembered that the stall had been surrounded by tethered peacocks — it was what had drawn her to stop. She would recognise the brilliant colour and hear their screech at a distance, even if she were not close enough to discern the birds. There it was.

  Hero ran in and put the
entire pouch into the bejewelled hand of the trader — an honest man for he returned some of its contents to her and he gave her what she sought.

  The purchase made, she proudly showed the simple dagger to Cadmus.

  He laughed. It was shiny at least. “Amazon,” he said, nearly to himself — but not quite.

  Hero tried to glare at him, but she was too happy to maintain it. Abydos was every bit as exhilarating as she had dreamed. She felt like she was on a grand adventure, away from the constant shadow of war.

  They came upon a small stadium where men were pitting themselves against lions. The crowd pressed close as the last mauled victim was carried from the arena.

  “Cad, no!” Hero said as she recognised a familiar, mad glint in her brother’s eye.

  “I could beat the creature,” Cadmus replied wistfully as he studied the snarling beast.

  The merchant who organised the confrontations, overheard him. “For a fair exchange you can prove your worth against my cat. Will you try, friend?”

  “What do I win if I defeat it?” asked Cadmus.

  “If glory amongst men is not enough,” the man replied with a flourish towards the crowd who watched, “I will give the victor a dozen lengths of cloth for his trouble. Will you try, friend?”

  Cadmus looked longingly at the lion that paced the arena, contained by a wall of wood and men with lances and nets.

  “Do you not know that Zeus himself takes the form of a lion? You could have the greatest of gods caged for your entertainments!” Hero addressed the merchant before Cadmus could say anything.

  The man looked at her and laughed. He bent close and whispered, “Perhaps that is why the lion always wins.”

  Cadmus grabbed Hero’s hand before she could lecture the man on blasphemy. “Maybe another day,” he said to the merchant as he led her away.

  “Gods, Hero ... ” he muttered shaking his head.

  Hero smiled. It was not easy to dissuade Cadmus once he got an insane idea into his head, but on this day, she had saved him from a lion.

  When the shadows fell long to the east, they were still in the market. Hero was waiting, whilst Cadmus talked to a merchant of horses. The Herdsmen caught and tamed their own steeds, but the size and strength of these beasts had caught the eye of her brother. They were frighteningly tall; their bodies and proud heads exuded power and intelligence. They would enhance the breeding of the horses of Ida.

  “You would even impress Brontor, I think,” Cadmus murmured as he stroked the steed’s long muzzle.

  It was here that the sons of Brontor found them.

  Hero heard their shouts long before she could see them.

  “Cadmus! Cadmus! We seek the Herdsman, Cadmus!”

  “Kelios, Phoebus! Over here!” Cadmus hailed them in reply and they ran to him. The sons of Brontor were grim faced. They did not say a great deal, but they changed the world with their words.

  “Troy has fallen. The Greeks have breached the walls.”

  There was a moment’s silence as the horror hit them physically. Cadmus stepped back as if he had been struck, and Hero began to weep.

  Cadmus turned to the merchant of horses. “We will take these steeds,” he said. “Our beasts are in the pens of Glaucus of Abydos. He will give you as many as you require in exchange.”

  The trader nodded, the Herdsmen of Ida and the quality of their bulls were known in Abydos, and trusted. He bridled and prepared the largest horses. Cadmus mounted and pulled Hero up behind him. She clung to him.

  “Not so tight, Hero,” he said, gently, for he could feel the wetness of her tears on his back. “I won’t be able to breathe.”

  They collected the wife of Kelios, and sparing neither themselves nor their steeds, they rode desperately towards Troy.

  “They spread through the panicked streets of the holy citadel leaving only death and ruin in their wake.”

  The Odyssey Book VIII

  BOOK IV

  MACHAON AND LYCON LAY by their father. Agelaus had spent the whole night on the outcrop watching the activities of the Greeks in the moonlight. His sons had watched with him, though they had both fallen asleep some time ago. The old man regarded them proudly. The way of the Herdsmen ran strongly in their veins. They served Troy with courage and honour, without the need for the glory that drove the soldiers on both sides of the war.

  Agelaus had seen his old friend and master, Priam, the King of Troy and all its lands, lose most of his fifty noble sons to the blades and arrows of the Greeks. One of them had been Paris, who was also a son of Agelaus. The Herdsman still mourned deeply for Paris. He would not have given another of his children for dominion of the world.

  As the slim fingers of Eos, the luminous goddess of sunrise, reached over the horizon, Machaon awoke. He looked down to the beaches and he stilled. The Greeks had finished building whilst he slept. A great horse of wood, mounted on a wheeled platform, stood by the gates of Troy, but otherwise the beaches were deserted. There was no sign of the thousand ships launched to retrieve Helen, over whose love the war had been fought. The Greeks were gone.

  “What in Hades ... ?” Lycon too had woken and was gazing at the beaches in disbelief.

  “They went in the night,” Agelaus said quietly. “They finished the horse and then they took down their tents. There is not a man left.”

  Troy had also realised that the Greeks were gone. First soldiers and then the citizens of Troy appeared on the ramparts of its vast walls to look out at the empty beach and upon the eerie wooden horse left at the gates.

  “What do you think it is, Mac?” Lycon asked.

  “A tribute of some sort, perhaps,” mused Machaon. “It’s a bit bizarre.”

  They continued to watch. In time, the gates of Troy opened, just enough to allow a small party out to inspect the Greek offering. They could see the white robes of the seers, without whose prophecies the king made few decisions, and the royal purple cloak of the king’s nephew, Aeneas. A number of Trojan council leaders joined the party shortly afterwards, and they all walked around the great horse in awe. A woman, a seer, whose robes were trimmed with royal purple, appeared to be pleading with the council. Agelaus and his sons knew her to be the Princess Cassandra. She had always claimed to have the gift of prophecy but, despite her royal birth, she did not have the gift of persuasion. Strangely now, the other prophets seemed to join in her appeals.

  Three seers walked towards the water.

  “That is Laocoon, and his sons,” Agelaus said thoughtfully. “It appears he does not believe the Greeks are gone. See ... he wades into the water to see if he can catch sight of their ships.”

  “What’s that?” Lycon asked, pointing out to sea. The azure waters of the Aegean foamed unnaturally at the place to where he directed their attention. Then, with unbelievable speed, a creature emerged from the waves. It was monstrous, scaled and tentacled. Its jaws were lined with rows of teeth and it moved silently, so that the only sound was the screams of Laocoon and his sons as it devoured them.

  Machaon cursed as they watched the creature slip, once more, beneath the waves and vanish.

  The party from Troy looked on, unable to speak or move.

  “Gods,” whispered Lycon. “Perhaps that’s what happened to the Greeks.”

  Agelaus put his arms about his sons. He drew them to him, in both hope and foreboding. “The gods may finally have decided to end the war,” he said.

  The gates of Troy were flung open. Men surged out onto the beaches. The Herdsmen watched with bated breath in case the quiet did not hold. Slowly the massive wooden horse was pushed towards the great gates. The structure was so immense that it took two hundred men most of the day to drag it into the citadel. And then the gates were closed again.

  Agelaus nodded his approval as Troy was sealed once more.

  “King Priam is cautious,” he said. “He will wait to see that the Greeks do not return before he stops protecting his city. The gods obviously wish Troy to accept Agamemnon’s tribute, but a
single Greek soldier within the walls is more threat to Troy than a thousand wooden horses.”

  The Herdsmen prepared to take supplies into the city, for there would be celebrations that night. It seemed as though the siege was over and the Greeks had either returned to their lands or fallen victim to the sea monster that had claimed the seer and his sons.

  “Cad is going to be furious that he missed this,” Lycon said quietly to Machaon as they loaded horses with cheese and meat.

  Machaon nodded. Ten years of war and their brother had missed its end.

  Agelaus called the men of Ida to a brief council and they discussed the routes that each would take into the city. There were scores of hidden passages that led under the city’s walls but only the Herdsmen knew these ancient tunnels, a secret trusted to them for generations. Not even Priam could find the ways that breached his capital. A small number of Herdsmen would remain behind with the women and children to watch the herds and flocks, but most of the men would make this excursion into Troy. Even Agelaus. It had been a long time since he had made the journey, but the thought of peace had invigorated his tired bones. Perhaps on this day they would stay to share a feast with the people they had served so faithfully.

  THEY DISPERSED, and waited for the sun to fall below the horizon. Even now, they would not risk being seen as they entered the tunnels.

  It was a long trek underground. The passages they traversed multiplied the distance between Ida and Troy for they wound and twisted through the natural caverns carved by subterranean springs and streams. Their ancestors had hewn the rock to link the existing tunnels and bring them up within the fortified city. The way was wet and treacherous, and so dark that frailer men and less well-trained steeds may have panicked.

  Agelaus and his sons heard a growing noise as they approached the end of their tunnel. It sounded like the celebration they expected.

  “The party seems to have started without us,” Machaon murmured.