Pan laughed, and Hero watched in awe as her brothers continued to converse with the god as if he were an old friend. At some point Pan produced an instrument of pipes and played a haunting melody that seemed to hang in the air. In return, Lycon and Cadmus tried to teach him to howl.
From her place of safety by Machaon’s side, Hero summoned the courage to speak to the god again.
“My lord, you are a god. Why is it that you require no homage or sacrifice?”
Pan looked up with childlike glee. “The little thing wishes to know why I put up with you disrespectful heathens!” he said loudly. “She thinks I could do better!”
He beamed at Hero, who was now mortified.
“Let us just say, little thing, that I am more secure than most gods.”
Pan sobered suddenly. “The Greeks also argue over sacrifice,” he said. “Agamemnon insists that the gods be given their due, and his brother, Menelaus, and the trickster, Odysseus, are determined to return to their homes immediately.” Pan shook his head. “The gods of the Pantheon lost many sons in the war, and they are somewhat particular about the sacrifices they require in return for their aid.”
Cadmus shrugged. “The sooner the Greeks leave, the sooner we can rebuild and return to normal.”
Pan shook his head again. “Troy has fallen, Cadmus. There are not enough Trojans left to do anything but flee.” He put his hand on Cadmus’ shoulder. “The Herdsmen have been denounced. Troy and her allies will never accept your help again. They will not let you live.”
“We did not betray Troy!” Cadmus replied hotly.
“But you have been denounced.” Pan was gentle, but direct.
“And history will remember the Herdsmen as the traitors of Troy,” Lycon said bitterly.
“Odysseus,” said Machaon, almost to himself.
They looked at him. “What about Odysseus?” asked Cadmus.
“He is the strategist of the Greeks,” Machaon replied. “He would know how the Greeks got into Troy ... he was probably behind it.”
“Unfortunately, he does not linger long enough to claim it,” said Pan. “His fleet may have set sail for Ithaca already.”
“Then we must follow,” said Cadmus suddenly. “We must find Odysseus and have him claim his deed. It is no shame to him, but the stain of betrayal will mark the Herdsmen forever!”
Machaon looked at his brother, and pulled his arms tighter about Hero. She trembled and he knew she was afraid.
“We have no ship, Cad,” he said, “and even if we did, we are Herdsmen not seafarers. Each of Odysseus’ vessels has forty rowers — how could we catch him?”
Pan smiled slowly. “I am not a powerful god,” said he, “but I do have a ship. It is much smaller than the vessels of Odysseus, but it is Phaeacian.”
The sons of Agelaus sat up. The Phaeacians were the greatest ship builders of the known world. Their vessels were faster than anything built by the Greeks or the Trojans, and, it was whispered, they were navigated by thought. It was said that the ships had no rudders, but understood where it was the traveller wished to go; they knew all the lands of the world and traversed a sea covered with mist and cloud as easily as when the day was clear.
“So,” said Pan smugly, “You know of the Phaeacians’ extraordinary ships?”
“Are the legends true?” asked Cadmus.
“Of course they are,” replied Pan. “We live in an age of legends.”
“Why do you have a ship?” asked Lycon looking pointedly at Pan’s cloven hooves.
The god snorted. “You are right, Lycon. The roll of a wooden deck does not suit me.” He grinned slyly and winked at the sons of Agelaus. “It is a long story, which I may tell you one day when your sister is asleep ... suffice to say, it involves a couple of comely nymphs, and a great deal of music and some dancing ... and ends with an extremely grateful young Phaeacian giving me his boat.”
Cadmus laughed. “We have the best god,” he said, shaking his head.
“And will this ship follow Odysseus’ fleet?” asked Machaon. A light of purpose had started to flare in his eyes.
“Yes, if that is the intent you hold when you look from the prow.”
“But how will we catch him ... he has forty rowers to stroke each of his ships forward.”
“This is a superior craft,” said Pan. “It is faster than Odysseus’ tubs and, in any case, Odysseus has earned the ire of Poseidon. The sea god will slow his progress.”
Machaon glanced at Lycon as they remembered the monster which had emerged from the waves to devour Laocoon and his sons.
Pan seemed to know their minds. “You are the people of a lesser god,” he said. “You will go unnoticed by the greater deities, who concern themselves only with the fates of large cities with large kings. It is why you were able to supply Troy for so long. You will escape the attention of the Pantheon, as you have always done.” He looked suddenly at Hero before he went on. “And if they do happen to notice you ... then the little thing can pray.”
“I say we go,” said Cadmus. “What else can we do? The Herdsmen cannot be known as traitors. We cannot live with it, and our father cannot die with it.”
“We can’t just leave ... ”
“Why not, Mac?” Cadmus demanded. “We are no longer bound to feed Troy.”
Machaon was thoughtful. It was a bitter freedom, but his brother was right. “We must all agree. What do you think Hero?” he asked, putting rest to her greatest fear. “We will not leave you behind.”
“If the Lord Pan says we should go, then we must,” she said tentatively. “We dare not refuse him.”
Machaon laughed. “Of course we dare,” he said. “Pan comes up with the most ludicrous ideas, but this one is not so ridiculous.”
“What about Brontor and the others?” asked Lycon.
“I am still God of the Herdsmen,” replied Pan. “I will do what I can, and we will await your return.”
Hero studied her brothers, the sons of Agelaus. They seemed to her completely fearless. Her eyes lingered on the stripes just visible at the shoulders of Machaon’s tunic. She remembered how pain had kept him from black-winged Morpheus those first nights. The God had refused to bring him slumber, and Hero had watched as Machaon wept silently when he thought them all asleep. She had seen how dark, inconstant Morpheus had instead tormented Lycon, with dreams and memories entwined. Cadmus had paced the cave like a creature caged, hunted by the world outside.
Suddenly, her own fear gave way to fury. “And when it is known that the Herdsmen were faithful,” she said quietly, “then, we will find Scamandrios.”
“On the same wind that conveyed me from Illium, I arrived at the capital of the Cicone, Ismarus. I sacked the city and left the bodies of its men to the vultures.”
The Odyssey Book IX
BOOK VII
THE NIGHT WAS ALMOST completely black. The thin sliver of the moon seemed to cast enough light for her brothers and the Herdsmen who accompanied them, but Hero could see nothing. She clung tightly to the hand of Lycon, and Cadmus carried her over the more treacherous ground. Thus, they journeyed down the mountain to the hidden cove where Pan’s ship awaited.
There had been a great deal of discussion amongst the Herdsmen. Brontor had been adamant that the children of Agelaus were too young to seek Odysseus alone.
“Even you and Cadmus are not much more than boys,” he had argued with Machaon. “And you have barely recovered from the ordeal inflicted by Scamandrios ... this is foolishness!”
“The Herdsmen can protest their innocence till the gods leave Olympus,” replied Machaon, “but we will not be believed. We must find out how the walls were breached.”
“I do not deny that,” said Brontor, “but Agelaus would not thank me if I allowed his children to go recklessly to their deaths.”
“Our father never shrank from what had to be done!” said Cadmus hotly. “He did not betray the honour of the Herdsmen even when Mac was flogged, though he died in an attempt to save him! We d
ishonour him if we do not go.”
“There are other Herdsmen who could seek Odysseus. Seasoned men. You and your brothers are young, and Hero is a child. Odysseus has already killed scores of Trojans — he is not a man of mercy. Some claim that it was he who threw the infant son of Hector from the walls of Troy!”
“We are not infants, Brontor,” said Machaon calmly. “The Herdsmen need their elders here.”
“The wisdom of your great age will be more missed than we, old man,” said Cadmus.
“And what makes you think the King of Ithaca will listen to you, even if you were to catch him?” Brontor retorted in frustration, and genuine concern for the children of his friend. “Agelaus has raised idiots!”
The sons of Agelaus were immovable. Pan had given the boat to them, and it was for them to chase Odysseus, the man who devised the destruction of Troy. It was for them to make him claim that deed, and release the Herdsmen from the accusations of Scamandrios.
Brontor had offered to take Hero into his own family, where she could remain safe from the ravages of the sea and the unknown. Again the sons of Agelaus were resolute; they would not leave their sister behind.
Pan had visited the fires of the Herders, without formality or announcement, as was his way, and in the end they had come to agree. Preparations were made quickly as Odysseus’ fleet was already asea. Supplies of food and water were arranged, as were clothing and weapons. The men taught the sons of Agelaus how to use the stars at sea to judge direction and the passing of the night. They warned them of perils which lurked over the horizon, of sirens and monsters. Perhaps most practically, they showed them how to catch fish.
Hero also learnt the basics of fishing and the women instructed her in the uses of herbs and medicines. She would need to look after the health of her brothers, they told her, for men were too stupid to do so themselves. They gave her a parcel of herbs, roots and powders wrapped well to protect the contents from the spray and the salt. Her brothers had already come to call it “Hero’s bag of poisons”.
And so it was that seven nights after she had first met Pan, Hero and her brothers boarded the small ship that they would use to chase Odysseus.
Hero cried as they said their farewells. The sea loomed dark and foreboding before them. The quest on which they embarked filled her with a cold dread, surpassed only by the thought of being left behind. She knelt on the beach to pray and sacrifice to Poseidon the God of the Sea. The Herdsmen spoke earnestly to her brothers with last-minute advice and warnings. And then, they embraced the children of Agelaus and pushed the boat into the water.
The Phaeacian ship surged forward like a chariot pulled into motion by steeds under whip. Machaon stood at the prow, which arched like the neck of a stallion, and he thought of Odysseus. The ship set her course. As the beach receded quickly in the distance, the Herdsmen who stood upon it, howled and the seekers returned their salute in kind.
Soon there was nothing but the dark waters of the sea. They spread blankets upon the deck and lay looking at the stars. Hero could see little. The rise and fall of the boat was unsettling and she felt lost without the familiar sounds and smells of Ida.
“What can you see?” she asked Lycon.
He described the pictures in the night sky traced out by the stars.
“There’s the Eridanus,” he said. “The great celestial river winding through the heavens. And there’s Perseus. He’s glorious, Hero. He stands strong and powerful, the champion of the gods and the slayer of monsters. His face is shrewd, as one would expect, for he used wit as well as courage to defeat the gorgon Medusa.”
Hero lost herself in Lycon’s words. Her youngest brother spoke with a turn of phrase so like their father’s. It comforted her. Cadmus stretched out next to them, his hands behind his head. Machaon too listened as he leant against the mast.
“There are Castor and Pollux, the twin sons of Zeus, and there’s the lyre which Orpheus used to bewitch beast, man and god in his travels.”
Lycon fell silent for a moment and then he spoke again.
“There, in a row, are the three stars which form the belt of the Herdsman. He is the greatest constellation, magnificent and proud ... ”
Hero laughed. “Don’t be silly,” she said, recognising the description of the belt, “that’s Orion the hunter.”
“Nonsense,” replied Lycon. “It’s a Herdsman. He holds his staff aloft, but his stance is protective not predatory — how could he be a hunter?”
“Ly speaks the truth,” commented Cadmus with a smile. “Look, the bull stands close by — undeniably a Herdsman.”
“In fact, there is a wolf at his back,” Lycon added.
“That’s Sirius, the hunting dog of Orion!” Hero knew they were teasing her. Although she had seen them only in the springs and ponds of Ida, she knew the patterns of the stars well.
“We’re only telling you what we see,” said Cadmus.
“Mac!” Hero appealed to Machaon.
He looked up and considered the disputed group of stars. “It’s definitely a Herdsman, Hero ... ”
Hero sighed. “So it is Orion the Herdsman, is it?” she said irritably.
Machaon sat quietly on the deck. “No, Orion was a hunter,” he said as he prodded Cadmus into making room. “Let us call the Herdsman, Agelaus.”
And thus the Phaeacian ship bore them across the sea towards Odysseus. They knew only that the night passed with the constellation of Agelaus to their right. Hero slept in the protection of the small cabin built into the boat’s high prow. Her brothers sat on the deck for much of the night, in vigilant companionship as they often had in watching their herds.
When the crimson reach of Eos clawed its way over the horizon, only Cadmus was awake, keeping vigil in his turn. His brothers slept on the deck. Lycon’s face turned, even in sleep, to the sky but Machaon still could not lay on his back. Cadmus’ jaw hardened. There would be a time to deal with Scamandrios; for now, they had to reclaim the honour of their people.
Machaon stirred. He rose groggily and kicked the blanket on which he had been sleeping over Lycon.
“Have we changed direction at all?” he asked quietly.
Cadmus shook his head. “No, we’re still going north.”
“It’s an odd way to get to Ithaca,” mumbled Machaon as he rubbed his hand through his hair. The home of Odysseus was essentially in the opposite direction. “Let’s hope that Pan wasn’t given this ship so readily because it has no sense of direction ... ”
Cadmus smiled. “Maybe Odysseus was blown off course?” he suggested.
“Pan did say he had made an enemy of Poseidon.”
“Mac, what exactly are we going to do when we find Odysseus?” Cadmus asked suddenly.
“I don’t really know. Somehow we have to convince him to tell us, and the rest of the world, how the Greeks entered Troy.”
“Which means we probably shouldn’t kill him,” Cadmus muttered regretfully.
“You’re beginning to sound like Hero,” Machaon replied.
“Can’t be helped.” Cadmus grinned. “Curse of the Amazons you know.”
They turned towards the cabin as the tonal murmuring from within escalated.
“Hero’s praying.”
“It’s as certain as the dawn, Cad.”
They listened for a while as she praised each god of the Pantheon in turn.
“I hope she doesn’t manage to summon Poseidon,” said Cadmus glancing around at the open sea.
“One devout voice in the twilight?” Machaon replied. “The gods don’t seem to have noticed her yet.”
Again they listened as Hero’s prayers became more fervent.
“She won’t try to light a fire on the boat, will she?” Cadmus said, thinking of all the sacrificial pyres they had been called upon to extinguish over the years.
Machaon laughed. “I don’t think so. She’s just scared, Cad. She’ll calm down soon.”
Cadmus sighed. “Fear and fury, that’s our Hero ... ” He was
worried. “She’s going to miss Agelaus you know, Mac. She needed him to make the world gentle.”
Machaon nodded. Hero was much younger than they, and she had not stopped looking terrified since they had buried their father. “The world isn’t gentle,” he said. “Hero’s always known that — it’s why she prays.”
The winter sun was at its zenith when they first caught sight of land. The Ithacan fleet was aground. Great fires dotted the beaches. Lycon climbed the mast to look for landmarks.
“Mac, stop the boat!” he called as he jumped down.
Machaon stood at the prow and asked the Phaeacian craft to stop, and immediately it halted as if completely becalmed.
“It’s Ismarus, they’ve landed at Ismarus,” said Lycon.
Ismarus, the land of the Cicones, had been an ally of Troy. The sons of Agelaus had been there often to trade for grain and oil, but they were surprised that they had travelled so far so quickly.
“The Greeks have sacked the village,” Lycon said. “They’re on the beach roasting cattle and drinking. The women are in irons in the Greek encampment ... they ... ” He looked at Hero and stopped.
“What about their men?” asked Hero in horror. “Why do their men not protect them?”
“They’re probably dead,” Machaon said.
“We have to help them,” she replied urgently. “They were our friends.”
Machaon looked at Cadmus. “The Cicones have two centres,” he said. “Ismarus and another stronghold in the hills. If we could get word to their people in the hills ... ”
“That will take too long!” protested Hero. “What about the women on the beach?” She knew well what happened to women who were the spoils of war. Even in death her mother had not been safe from the lust of the Greek warrior who had slain her. Hero flinched. She did not want to think of that; could not bear to think of that. “Mac, help them,” she pleaded.
“Okay,” said Machaon finally. “There may be a way to protect the women ... for a while at least.” He turned to his youngest brother. “Ly, do you remember how to find the village in the mountains?”
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