“We seem to have released ourselves,” replied Cadmus.
“Why did Odysseus return and why did he go?” Machaon demanded. “What did you tell him?”
“The gods have judged the King of Ithaca,” replied the Warden of Gales. “I gave him all he needed to get home; a favourable breeze and a bag into which I had imprisoned the boisterous energies of all the winds for his later travels. He was upon the ports of Ithaca itself when he was overcome by sleep, and his malcontent crew opened the bag, thinking that I had given their captain gold. They let loose the gales that blew the ships right back to our shores. He came to beseech me to set things right for him again.”
“And did you?” asked Cadmus.
“I am not one to entertain and equip a man detested by the blessed gods!” Aeolus replied. “The very fact that he returned when I had already given him many times more than necessary for him to find his kingdom was proof that he had made an enemy of the gods. I am inclined now to believe your story, even if it was not so well told as his, and so I sent him off!”
“So he knows nothing of us?”
“I did not tolerate him long enough on my doorstep to tell him of you.”
“Where is Odysseus headed?” asked Lycon.
“Back to Ithaca, I expect,” Aeolus replied as if Lycon was simple. “Although I suspect that he will not find the journey a short one. It seems the gods have indeed turned against the Greek princes.”
“Because Odysseus fell asleep?” said Lycon.
“Because Agamemnon is dead, Ajax is dead, and the ships of red-haired Menelaus are not yet returned. It can only mean the gods are displeased with those who destroyed Priam’s city. It seems we have wronged you and for this we apologise, most humbly. Please stay with us a month or two and allow us to show you hospitality.”
“Ummm, thank you,” said Machaon with a look towards his brothers, “but we must resume our own quest.”
“Then at least allow me to send you on your way with a westerly gust to see you back to Troy,” offered the Warden of Gales.
Machaon shook his head. “We are not going back to Troy, yet ... but we thank you, Aeolus. We will leave you and your good family to your own entertainments, and ask only that you return our weapons.”
Aeolus consented, though he continued to beg the Herdsmen to accept his hospitality for some days longer. It appeared that, despite the luxury of their lives, the family of Aeolus needed distraction to bear their days. Hero suspected that the daughters of the house may have already divided her brothers amongst them. In the end, it was with considerable relief that they extracted themselves from the island’s only house and returned to their ship.
The Phaeacian ship surged purposefully into the waves with Machaon at its prow. The children of Agelaus looked up to the bronze wall, which they had thought unbroken. The Warden of Gales and his fair-haired family now looked down upon them from elaborate open gates. They waved, and then retreated through the gates in intimate pairs.
Cadmus turned away. “Do you think they really ... ,” he started.
“I’m making a point of not thinking about it,” Machaon replied.
They were three days upon the sea before they next caught sight of land. On each of these days the night had become shorter and the day longer, so that when they saw the unploughed coast, they guessed it to be the country of the Laestrygonians, where Eos chased nightfall so closely that it was possible to work two days in one.
From the height of the mast Lycon could see most of the Ithacan fleet secured in an excellent harbour surrounded on all sides by precipitous cliffs. Entry into the harbour was by a narrow channel between two headlands that reached out towards each other across the sheltered waters. Lycon was about to direct his brothers to a place outside the cove when he noticed that the blue-prowed ship of Odysseus was also moored on the other side of the headland and not within the protected bay. They could not enter the cove without being seen so they took the Phaeacian ship around the opposite headland.
Cadmus jumped down into the shallows and tied their boat to a rock. Lycon had just dropped into the foam beside him when they were startled by the sound of horns and war-like cries. They looked up as hordes of huge Laestrygonians took to the cliffs tops screaming.
“What in Hades ... ” began Lycon.
“Cad! Ly!” shouted Machaon. “Cut the rope and get back on board!”
Cadmus unsheathed his sword and severed the rope as Machaon pulled Lycon onto the deck. The Laestrygonians heaved rocks from the cliffs into the sheltered cove. Stray missiles fell into the sea around them, but it was the ships in the harbour that were the target of the attack. Cadmus leapt onto the Phaeacian craft as it pulled out to sea.
Hero cringed on the deck with her hands over her ears. She could not see anything except the occasional rock which fell near them, but she could hear it all; the murderous battle-cry of the Laestrygonians, the splash of the massive stones, the splintering of timbers as the Greek flotilla was smashed, and most horrible, the groans of dying men.
Machaon wrapped his arms around his sister as Cadmus took the helm and Lycon climbed the mast. The Phaeacian ship brought them back to the space between the headlands where they could see into the sheltered harbour. Odysseus’ men screamed as the Laestrygonians began to harpoon the survivors like fish in a pail. Still thrashing, impaled Ithacans were dragged ashore and carried off. Hero wept for she could not shut out the loathsome noise.
Under the direction of Cadmus their vessel surged away from the destruction.
Even as it did so Lycon saw, in the distance, the wake of Odysseus’ blue-prowed ship, as its crew rowed for their lives into the open sea.
The sea was becalmed so Odysseus’ ship stroked away from them under the sweat of forty terrified rowers. The Herdsmen were not concerned for they had come to trust the ability of their extraordinary craft to stay upon the Ithacan trail. They watched until the battle was over in case there were survivors in need of aid. There were none. The Ithacan fleet was now but one ship and its crew.
Hero had stopped weeping and now prayed, shaken giving thanks that the gods had guided them away from danger. Machaon thought that their decision to moor outside the headland had very little to do with Hero’s gods, but he said nothing. He had no love for the Greeks, but the massacre had been hideous. He was only glad that it had been too far for his sister to see, or she would be haunted by the images as well as the sounds.
“I wonder what Odysseus did to offend the Laestrygonians,” Cadmus muttered.
“I don’t think he even disembarked, Cad,” Machaon replied. “He certainly abandoned the rest of his fleet quickly.”
“I have heard the Laestrygonians are cannibals,” Cadmus said quietly. “I had thought it just legend, but maybe not ... ”
“Perhaps Aeolus is right.” Machaon looked out to sea. Odysseus’ boat was no longer in sight. “The gods may well have turned against the Sacker of Troy.”
Cadmus sighed. “We’d better get going then,” he said. “Otherwise, he may get himself killed before we ever know how Troy was breached.”
“From this place they could hear the enchanting voice of Circe. She sang as she worked to and fro at her everlasting loom, weaving impossibly delicate, gossamer fabrics for which the goddesses are famed.”
The Odyssey Book X
BOOK XV
THEY WERE BECALMED FOR a number of days. Whilst the marvellous Phaeacian ship seemed to be able to convert the slightest breath or movement of air into progress through the waves, the stillness was so complete that she floated idly in the sea. The sons of Agelaus took turns, two at a time with the oars but though they were strong, they were quickly left far behind by Odysseus and his forty rowers.
When finally they approached landfall, Odysseus’ ship — the solitary survivor of the Ithacan fleet — was moored in shelter and may, for all they knew, have been there a number of days.
They brought their own craft stealthily around a wooded headland and beached he
r out of sight. Lycon and Machaon approached the Greek camp unseen amongst the trees. Odysseus’ men were finishing a meal with the seemingly endless supply of wine they had sacked from Ismarus.
Odysseus addressed his warriors.
“My friends,” he said, “I have climbed the crags to assess the nature of this land. We are upon an island which appears for the most part low lying, for I could glimpse the complete ring of its coastline from my minor elevation. In the middle of the isle is a dense oak-scrub forest and in the midst of this I caught sight of a wisp of smoke.”
The Herdsmen listened with interest, but the Greeks dissolved into anguished tears.
Machaon looked bemused at his brother.
The cries were those of defeated men.
“We are doomed ... ”
“What monster now will finish what the cannibals of Laestrygonia began?”
“The gods have abandoned us ... ”
“Let us flee now, Lord Odysseus, before they know of our presence.”
Lycon raised his eyebrows. “The heroes of Ithaca are not coping so well,” he muttered.
Only Odysseus did not disintegrate into fear and self-pity. Instead he rallied and cajoled his men into some semblance of fortitude. He divided them into two well-armed parties, placing himself at the head of one, and Eurylochus, whom Lycon and Hero had encountered in the land of the Lotus-eaters, at the other. There was a great deal of hand-wringing amongst the Greeks as their king drew lots from a bronze helmet. In this way, it was decided that Eurylochus’ party would investigate the smoke in the woods.
“Come on,” Machaon whispered to his brother, and they made their way quickly and silently back to their own ship.
They told Cadmus and Hero what had transpired amongst the Greeks.
“So Odysseus remains here?” said Cadmus.
Machaon nodded.
“This may be a good time to approach him,” Cadmus suggested. “His men are already demoralised — we may have a better chance to hold sway with their leader.”
Machaon was troubled. “That’s true,” he said, “But we can’t let Eurylochus and his men wander into whatever settlement lies in the woods. We saw what they did in Ismarus. The settlement may be unarmed, its men may be away at work or its people may be monsters in the eyes of the Greeks.”
Lycon nodded. “Mac’s right. They’ll wander in claiming to be supplicants and demanding gifts. If the people have neither the ability nor the desire to accommodate them, they will sack the place.”
“So, do we try to warn them?” Cadmus asked.
“Eurylochus is already on his way, and there’s really nowhere to run,” Machaon replied thoughtfully. “The island is fairly small. I think we’ll have to defend.”
“There is over a score of men in Eurylochus’ party alone,” Lycon said sceptically.
“You’ll just have to watch for your opportunities and do what you can,” Machaon replied. “The Greeks are in despair. Don’t let them see that you are only three, and you may be able to panic them.”
“Three?” said Cadmus, surprised. They never left Hero alone.
“You and Ly are taking Hero with you,” Machaon replied. “Make sure she’s safe before you engage anyone ... hide her in a tree or something ... ”
“And what about you, Mac?” Cadmus replied warily, aware that in sending Hero with them, Machaon was planning to do something riskier still.
“I’m going to try to speak with Odysseus.”
“No, Mac!” Lycon said vehemently. “You can’t go in there alone ... ”
“He’ll kill you,” Hero said, horrified by her brother’s proposal.
“I’ll be careful,” Machaon assured them. “I have no intention of taking on twenty men myself ... But we can’t just follow the man indefinitely around the world ... ”
“Well, why should it be you?” protested Cadmus. “I could ... ”
“Because Odysseus has already seen Ly and Hero, and I am less likely to be completely reckless ... and I am the eldest.” Machaon clapped his hand apologetically on Cadmus’ back, but it was clear he would not be moved. “I promise I will not take any chances that I don’t have to,” he said to quell any residual mutiny. “If it looks too difficult, I will forget about it and join you in the forest.”
Eventually they were agreed or at least resigned. They armed themselves heavily. Even Hero took the dagger that she had purchased in Abydos and a short Greek sword.
Lycon climbed the craggy rock faces to get their bearings. He saw immediately the smoke of which Odysseus had spoken. And so, the younger sons of Agelaus and their sister moved with little sound and measured haste towards the oak forest. They did not attempt to follow the Greeks, but took their own path.
In due course they came upon a clearing in the forest dell, at the centre of which stood a large house of dressed stone. The Herdsmen and their sister stood in the trees, out of sight, for Eurylochus and his men were already at the gates of the dwelling. The crew of Odysseus huddled close together with their backs to the wrought iron as they gazed around them in terror. Prowling about the clearing and jumping from the trees, were several maned lions with great claws and formidable jaws. Cautiously, Cadmus and Lycon drew their swords. However, the creatures did not move outside the clearing, and neither did they attack the Greeks. Indeed, the beasts seemed tame and even friendly. They cringed and gambolled like puppies at play and approached the men with the open affection of a hound at its master’s table. They fawned and attempted to lick the feet of the frightened warriors.
“That’s odd,” Lycon murmured.
Hero whispered a precautionary prayer to Zeus who had been known to take the form of a lion from time to time.
Despite the unexpected docility of the lions, or perhaps because of it, the Greeks were unnerved. They opened the gates and took fearful refuge upon the porch of the house.
Only Eurylochus remained outside.
The upper floor of the stone mansion hosted large open windows to catch the breeze and the light. It was towards one of these windows that the attention of Odysseus’ men turned.
“What can you see?” asked Hero sensing that her brothers’ gazes were caught.
“There are windows on the upper floor of the house in the clearing,” Lycon replied quietly. “A woman sits at a loom within, weaving.”
“She’s beautiful,” added Cadmus. He listened for a moment. “Her singing’s not bad either, if you like that sort of thing — she can’t know that there is a score of men on her doorstep.”
“They’ve seen and heard her,” said Lycon grimly as the men began to knock on the door and shout.
“Okay, Hero,” said Cadmus, turning to his sister. “We’ll have to hide you.”
“Why?”
“We’re going in,” he replied.
“What? ... No ... ”
“Hero,” Cadmus said gently, “the woman at the loom appears to be alone. There are more than twenty Greek warriors at her door. They have not seen a woman since Ismarus and we have not known them to be gentle men. We can’t just leave her.”
“But you are going to leave me?”
“Only for a little while,” said Lycon. “You are safer out here than in there, and it will be easier to protect one woman rather than two.”
“And how will you protect her?” Hero asked, scared for her brothers. “There are so many Greeks.”
“Not really sure yet,” Cadmus admitted. “But we’ll think of something ... Ly could always tell them she was a witch ... but that’s not likely to work twice.”
They hoisted Hero high into the branches of an oak tree, where no one would see her unless they looked directly up from immediately below. They made sure that she was secure and comfortable.
“Remember, Hero,” said Cadmus quietly, as he ruffled her short cropped hair affectionately, “do not make a sound or move. If something goes wrong and we do not return, Mac will find you. Don’t come down otherwise.”
Hero nodded. She did not wis
h to make things more difficult for her brothers and she knew they could not abandon the woman in the house. The Herdsmen were protectors, defenders — it was in their nature.
Cadmus and Lycon dropped silently down from the tree and approached the house from the ungated side, out of sight of Eurylochus. They climbed unseen over the stone wall and hid in the shadows of the building.
The shouts of Odysseus’ men had succeeded in attracting the mistress of the house to the polished doors, which she opened to invite the Greeks inside. The Herdsmen watched from a window as she ushered them into her lavish hall and seated them comfortably.
The woman was tall and pale. Her hair, which hung to the waist, was lustrous and black as the night. Her eyes seemed to be both green and blue and were fringed with heavy lashes. Her features were perfect and serene. She went about her business calmly and with an indefinable grace, her movements slow, almost mesmerising. She left the hall to prepare a meal for her guests and the Greeks fell into a discussion of her seductive attributes. The conversation soon moved from complimentary to debauched. The younger sons of Agelaus listened with growing alarm. Silently they slipped through the window and stood in the room, which was unnaturally dim despite the day. Their swords were unsheathed, and they waited.
The beautiful woman returned with bowls of steaming barley meal, mixed with cheese and yellow honey and flavoured with wine. The Greeks employed their lecherous tongues in the consumption of the meal whilst she entertained them with song and conversation. The Herdsmen did not partake of her meal, but the steaming vapours were intoxicating and left the sweet taste of the fare on their lips. Her name was Circe, she told her guests, and she lived alone on the island, which she called Aeaea.
Cadmus groaned inwardly. The woman seemed to be playing right into the hands of the Greeks.
The men of Odysseus, however, appeared to have forgotten their earlier ardor. Their eyes glazed as they heard her song and finished the dish that she had served them. They seemed lost and bewildered.
Cadmus smiled. The woman had drugged the Greeks to ensure her escape. The meal had been flavoured with more than a little wine.
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