Each Herdsman bowed slightly in turn and the princess bestowed on each a smile as warm as the sun itself.
“Welcome to Scherie,” she said. “Will you grant me refuge by your fire for a while?”
“Happily,” responded Hero. “But, my Lady, surely a princess does not need refuge in her own land?”
Nausicaa flopped cross-legged onto the ground by the fire. “Oh, but I do,” she moaned. “My mother is angry with me again, and she intends to save my reputation by making me wash all the family linens.”
“How will that help your reputation?” asked Demodocus sitting beside her. “Everyone knows you’re a disgrace.”
“Oh, I don’t know ... she thinks it will help me find a husband ... apparently men like girls who can wash clothes.”
Machaon could not imagine that the princess would have any problems finding a husband, but perhaps the men of this region had a particular fondness for clean tunics. The ways of other men were often strange to the Herdsmen.
They sat by the fire talking with the supposedly blind bard and the daughter of Alcinous, who seemed both to enjoy their company and have no other matters pressing on their time.
Machaon reached out in front of the princess to push a burning log back into the heart of their fire.
Hero heard her gasp. Nausicaa stared at Machaon who, with his back turned, was oblivious to her scrutiny. As he had stretched towards the fire, his tunic had fallen away from his broad shoulders exposing the multiple silvery lines that had marked his back since the day that Agelaus had died.
Nausicaa’s eyes glinted with suspicion and hostility.
“Are you a criminal, or a traitor?” she challenged coldly.
Machaon was startled.
“Nausicaa!” said Demodocus. “Does it matter? They saved my life.”
“Of course it matters,” said Nausicaa. “They are strangers in my father’s kingdom. We have not heard for what purpose they come to our shores. If they are here to do harm or cause some kind of mischief, then I must warn my father!”
Hero glowered at the daughter of Alcinous. “My brother is neither traitor, nor criminal. He is the best of men!” she declared angrily. “Your father’s kingdom has nothing to fear from us!”
“Then who are you?” Nausicaa demanded. “What is your business on Scherie? Why does your brother bear the scars of the lowest criminal?”
“Nausicaa!” Demodocus interrupted again. “You cannot speak to people like that!” He turned to the Herdsmen. “Forgive her — her manners come from living in a palace.”
“It is not an unreasonable assumption,” Machaon said quietly, “but it is mistaken.”
“I have no doubt that you are honourable men, and should you wish to tell us your story, I would be glad to hear it.” Demodocus looked searchingly at Machaon. “It is incongruous to me that a man of your obvious worth should have been flogged ... In Scherie it is a punishment reserved for only the worst criminals and for those who betray the king.”
Machaon glanced at Nausicaa; dismayed by the way she now looked at him. He didn’t know quite where to start.
“We are the children of Agelaus, the Herdsman of Ida,” Lycon spoke instead. “Our home is in the mountains of Illus where for generations we have held the sacred trust of the people of Troy.”
And so it was that Demodocus, the favorite bard of the Phaeacians, and the Princess Nausicaa came to hear the story of the Herdsmen and of their voyage in pursuit of the Ithacan king. Hero wept again as the tale was told, but her tears were now more wistful than bitter. Her heart was becoming more resilient to the tragedy of her people. Nausicaa’s eyes, too, shone with tears and lingered upon Machaon’s back. The scars that had aroused her distrust, now elicited her compassion, and she spoke to the eldest son of Agelaus with true remorse.
“Forgive me,” she said, taking his strong hand in both of hers. “It is not right that after being so wronged by others you are treated so roughly by me — and after you saved my dearest friend from the sea.”
Again, Machaon seemed lost for words.
“We can help you,” said Demodocus whose poetic soul had been moved by their plight.
“How?” asked Machaon, finally rediscovering his voice.
“If Odysseus is here, we can find him ... Nausicaa is after all a princess — she can appeal to her father for help,” replied the bard.
“Even if you do find him, we still have to find a way to get him to tell us what he knows,” said Cadmus.
“We will worry about that when we find him,” said Demodocus, who, it seemed, had taken the Herdsmen’s cause as his own. “I will talk to him ... you will be surprised how unguarded men become when they think they are speaking to a blind man ... I could tell him that I want to sing of his exploits!” Demodocus went on with excitement. “Surely this is why the gods have directed you here — so that we could help you find the truth and so that that truth could go out on our ships, which travel to every corner of the earth. Soon my friends, not only will we know how the Greeks managed to breach Troy, but so will all the world ... but let us not worry about that now ... we have yet to find him ... ”
The Herdsmen were bemused by the bard’s enthusiasm, but having no plan of their own, they were quite happy to accept his interest and his aid.
Nausicaa was equally eager to help.
“I will have to get back to my father’s house,” she said regretfully. “If I am going to enlist his help to find the King of Ithaca, I’d best wash those clothes first.” She moaned and hung her head as if she were contemplating the worst of deeds.
Hero smiled. She noticed that her brothers hung on Nausicaa’s every word, mesmerised. Especially Machaon. Nausicaa afforded the eldest son of Agelaus a particular warmth, and for that, Hero forgave the princess for her accusations.
“I could help you, if you like,” Hero volunteered timidly.
Nausicaa beamed. “Really?” She grabbed Hero’s hand. “Well, you shall come back to the palace with me then,” she decided. “No one will notice if I have an extra maid in my apartments. In fact you must all stay at my father’s house until we find the King of Ithaca.” The princess turned to the bard. “Dem, you must take the sons of Agelaus back with you ... it would be improper for me to return with three handsome men ... you know how people talk ... Take them to my brothers. They will see that our new friends are made welcome.”
“We would not trouble you,” said Lycon.
“Don’t be silly!” said Nausicaa. “We Phaeacians delight in guests! Hospitality is our national pastime. I would introduce you properly to the court, but it is probably better that no one notices your presence until we have found Odysseus.”
Demodocus agreed. “I will tell the princes that they are travellers who pulled me from certain death in the sea. When you have returned to the palace with armfuls of snowy linens, then you can ask Alcinous to organise a search for the King of Ithaca.”
And so the princess and the bard plotted and organised, determined to help the Herdsmen clear their people from the mark of betrayer. So great was their enthusiasm that the sons of Agelaus found themselves unable to do anything but be carried along by the unbridled momentum of their plans.
“With the presence of mind to break off a leafy bough with which to conceal his naked manhood, noble Odysseus crept out from beneath the bushes.”
The Odyssey Book VI
BOOK XXIV
HERO WAS BREATHLESS WITH the paradox of the Phaeacian court. The king’s mansion was the most magnificent she’d ever seen. Finer even than Priam’s grand palace in Troy. Surrounded by walls of bronze, the building seemed luminescent even in the morning sun. Its high-roofed halls were topped with tens of thousands of blue enamelled tiles. They entered through doors of solid gold, hung on silver posts that sprang from a bronze threshold. Flanking the entrance stood gold and silver dogs at guard, so exquisitely crafted that they were lifelike and greater than life at the same time. The interior of the palace was equally lavish, and bu
stling with activity as more servants than Hero had ever seen in a single place went about their work.
The manner of the Phaeacian court was starkly informal in contrast. The maids chattered happily and called cheerful warnings to Nausicaa as they worked. Queen Arete, when she emerged, had none of the disposition of a regal monarch, and all the manner of a vexed parent.
“Nausicaa!” she scolded. “Where have you been? Didn’t I ask you to wash your clothes today?”
Hero stood awkwardly, a little way behind the princess, and Arete seemed not to notice the girl as she began to lecture her daughter.
“It is not enough to have a pretty face ... you will get a reputation for being spoiled and indolent if you are not seen to take on any household duties. What man will marry a woman who cannot even keep his clothes clean?”
Hero smiled as she thought of the way Machaon had gazed at Nausicaa. She doubted that he was thinking of the state of his clothes.
Nausicaa sighed. “Mother, which of the high born princes who vie for my hand does not have servants to wash his linens?”
“That is not the point, Nausicaa. A wife must be capable of doing her duty even if she is not required to do it!”
Nausicaa rolled her eyes and slumped her shoulders dramatically. “Very well, Mother,” she said. “I will wash clothes ... in fact I will wash my brothers’ and my father’s clothes as well ... as long as that doesn’t make people think that you are not doing your duty, of course.”
“Don’t be impudent, Nausicaa,” replied the queen. “I shall have a wagon loaded with all the linens that need washing and you can be on you way!”
“A wagon!” Nausicaa was aghast. “Am I washing for the entire kingdom?”
Queen Arete smiled and left the hall, presumably to arrange the wagon. Nausicaa looked at Hero conspiratorially.
“They won’t be able to deny me anything after this, though I would much rather spend the day showing you and your brothers our kingdom.”
Nausicaa took Hero to her sumptuous apartments, and dressed her in a tunic of the closely woven linens for which the Phaeacians were famed.
“Don’t worry,” said the princess, “It’s clean — and in it no one will ever question that you are one of my maids.”
The princess gathered some very fine clothes from the floor where they had been discarded. “Might as well add these to the pile,” she said as she led Hero into the courtyard where a wagon was being loaded.
Nausicaa’s unmarried brothers — the princes Laodamas, Halius and Clytoneus — were adding to the mountain of clothes on the cart, obviously amused by the idea that their sister would wash them. Hero’s own brothers stood with them, beside Demodocus who now bore himself like a man without sight. The Herdsmen had also been attired in the excellent garments of the Phaeacians.
“This is our sister, the washerwoman,” said Laodamas with a grin.
Nausicaa punched him in the ribs, and the Herdsmen bowed as if this was their first meeting. Laodamas introduced each by name.
“Dem fell into the sea,” Halius explained. “These men pulled him out, so we are in their debt.”
“Indeed we are,” replied Nausicaa. “Demodocus is as a brother to us. How do you intend to repay this debt?”
Laodamas laughed. “We are going to take them on a hero’s tour of our fair city ... don’t you worry Sister, we Phaeacian men know how to enjoy ourselves. You can wash their clothes.”
Nausicaa glared at him and he hugged her fondly. “We’ll see you tonight. Father has organised some kind of feast — he’s invited every nobleman in the kingdom.”
“He obviously wants to display your clean linens to as many suitors as possible,” Clytoneus added. “He knows you may not wash again for a year or so ... ”
Hero watched as Nausicaa berated her brothers, threatening to hide scorpions in any clothes she washed for them. The sons of Agelaus stood bewildered, not entirely sure how earnest the conversation was. Never before had they encountered a people so apparently proud of their clean linen. To the Herdsmen, who spent very little thought on their appearance, it was quite odd.
The Phaeacian princes departed to spend the afternoon in the usual pursuits of merry bachelors, with the Herdsmen as their guests. Demodocus went with them leaning upon Clytoneus’ arm, in the manner of a blind man.
Mules were harnessed to the wagon of washing, and Nausicaa pulled Hero onto the driver’s bench beside her. Despite the princess’ protestations that she was being worked to the bone, it seemed a dozen maids were to accompany them, two of whom carried large baskets laden with wine and tasty morsels for their meal.
As their small procession made its way towards the river, Nausicaa questioned Hero about her travels. The daughter of Alcinous listened avidly, but it was in stories of Machaon that her eyes betrayed a particular interest. Hero wondered if Nausicaa was as taken with her eldest brother, as she suspected Machaon was with her.
In due time they arrived at the banks of a fast moving river, with ample pools through which the water swirled and bubbled. It was into these that the maids placed wicker troughs, whilst Hero and the princess unyoked the mules, leaving them to graze on the sweet grass of the banks. They gathered armfuls of clothes from the wagon and dropped them into the submerged troughs, stamping them down so that the moving waters could wash away the dirt.
It was not difficult work and in the warmth of the afternoon sun, the cool waters and cheerful chatter of the princess and the maids were welcome. It had been a long time since Hero had enjoyed feminine company. Nausicaa was so full of laughter and carefree wit that she may easily have been mistaken for a nymph. And so the day passed. Once they had washed the clothes and stretched them out to dry, they bathed and anointed themselves with the soft olive oil that Queen Arete had packed for that purpose. Afterwards they sat on the grassy banks and ate the dainty food that they had brought with them.
It was then, when they were sitting comfortably and replete, that he first approached. The man was completely naked holding only a leafy bough to afford him any sort of modesty. He crept tentatively towards them like a lion stalking prey, a gruesome sight begrimed with salt and caked with mud. The maids of Nausicaa shrieked and scattered to the protection of the trees. Hero did not see what caused their panic until he was nearly upon them, but Nausicaa stood and confronted the bare and battered man, though her address was less than lady-like.
“For the love of Zeus, who are you?”
The man looked up at the princess, a pathetic though frightening figure. Hero dropped her hand to the hilt of her dagger, ready, should the strange man threaten her friend.
“Mistress, I throw myself upon your mercy,” he said. “How blessed am I in my time of need to come upon the divine Artemis, daughter of the Almighty Zeus.”
Nausicaa raised an arched brow. “You are mistaken sir; I am not Artemis or any other goddess.”
“If then you are mortal, I can only wonder at the luck of your mother and your father, and your brothers too. What pleasure they must take in a creature so beautiful ... But luckier still is the man who with his wedding gifts can win you for his home ... ”
The strange man went on for some time showering Nausicaa with extravagant praise, whilst he clutched his leafy bough before him. Nausicaa, for her part, looked more amused than flattered.
“My troubles,” he said, “are of so serious a nature that I should in truth clasp your knees as a supplicant ... ”
The princess stepped back in alarm. “Please don’t.”
“But I dare not,” the man went on, “encrusted as I am in the salt and the grime of nineteen days at sea, tossed by the tempestuous winds from Ogygia and flung by some god upon this unknown shore ... ”
Nausicaa glanced at Hero as they realised that this was Odysseus, the King of Ithaca. It seemed he did not know where he was.
“Sir, I can see by your manners that you are gentle born. You are upon the land of the Phaeacians, of which my father Alcinous is king and head of sta
te. I am Nausicaa.”
“Pity me, my queen,” beseeched Odysseus. “You are the first person I have met since all I have been through. I beg your care in the name of Zeus who protects all strangers and supplicants.” The King of Ithaca continued with further and even more elaborate compliments.
Nausicaa interrupted him for it seemed there was no end to Odysseus’ fawning. She called her maids back from where they hid, and instructed them to bring the nameless man food and drink, olive oil with which to bathe and some of the clean clothes that belonged to her brothers. The maids did so and they all retreated up the bank, so that Odysseus could wash in the river pools.
“So that is Odysseus,” Nausicaa whispered.
“Did he say why he was naked?” asked Hero quietly.
Nausicaa shook her head. “I didn’t ask — I don’t think I want to know.”
“What shall we do now?” said Hero as Odysseus scrubbed and rubbed in the clear waters.
“I think he should go to the palace on his own,” said the princess thoughtfully. “Let us not reveal that we know who he is. We will go ahead and warn Demodocus and your brothers.”
“Can we just leave him?” Hero was unsure.
“It’s probably not strictly polite, but just leave it to me.”
By the time Odysseus emerged washed and dressed in the fine garments that had belonged to one of the princes, he looked almost kingly again. The princess’ maids had gathered all the clothes and linens that had been stretched on the rocks to dry, and packed them once more into the wagon.
Nausicaa gave Odysseus detailed instructions as to how to find her father’s palace, but begged him to wait a while and not accompany them, for the sake of her reputation.
“Surely,” she said coquettishly, “if I am seen with so handsome a stranger, the idle talk of vulgar men will have it that I have not been acting chastely, that I have run away with my friends to consort will comely men.”
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