Chasing Odysseus

by S. D. Gentill

  Odysseus seemed gratified and readily agreed. Nausicaa rolled her eyes at Hero when he turned away.

  And so they climbed again onto the cart and urged the mules home, leaving the King of Ithaca to prepare the words of his plea to the court of Alcinous of the Phaeacians.

  “It would be my pleasure if you would marry my only daughter and remain here as my beloved son-in-law in the house which I will provide and furnish for you.”

  The Odyssey Book VII

  BOOK XXV

  UPON THEIR RETURN TO the palace of Alcinous, Nausicaa rummaged through the piles of clean clothing to retrieve some of the finest tunics and capes.

  “Come on,” she said to Hero, “we haven’t much time.”

  The princess instructed her maids to put away the rest of the washed clothes and gave half the items she had collected to Hero. The daughter of Alcinous then led the way through the immense halls to the apartments that belonged to her brothers. The young men had returned from their entertainments in the city and were now engaged in a game of dice. The room rang with laughter and good-natured cursing as games were won and lost.

  Laodamas looked up from the dice as they came in. “Nausicaa,” he said with a grin, “Have you come bearing clean clothes?”

  “In fact I have,” Nausicaa replied curtly. She pushed the clothes in her arms at him. “You three had better bathe and get ready — father’s guests will arrive soon.”

  Laodamas looked at the intricately embellished garments she held. “Father wants us on show does he?” he said, taking the clothes. He looked at the Herdsmen. “Have you washed enough finery for our guests?”

  Nausicaa glanced at Machaon. “They look well enough,” she said. “You three on the other hand need to make yourselves look like princes and not common vagabonds.”

  Halius laughed as he took the clothes that Hero carried. “Never let it be said that we disgraced the House of Alcinous. Forgive us, friends. We will not be long — apparently we must make ourselves splendid!”

  The sons of Alcinous left the chamber and, as soon as she was sure they were gone, Nausicaa told Demodocus and the Herdsmen what had transpired at the river.

  “He thought you were Artemis?” said Demodocus incredulously.

  Cadmus laughed. “Odysseus sees gods in the most unexpected places ... He must think the Pantheon follows him around!”

  “So why was he naked?” asked Lycon.

  “Don’t know,” said Hero shuddering at the memory. “But that doesn’t matter now. Odysseus is on his way.”

  Nausicaa nodded. “He will arrive during the feast tonight, clasp my mother’s knees as a supplicant and beg the protection of my father’s court.”

  “King Alcinous will afford him all the usual courtesies and arrange for him to be returned to Ithaca,” said Demodocus rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “We have a couple of days to entice him to reveal the truth.”

  “I could just put my sword to his throat,” suggested Cadmus.

  “That would bring the entire court to his aid,” said Nausicaa. “Supplicants are protected — it’s better that he doesn’t even know any of you are here.”

  “How then are you going to get him to reveal what he has hidden for so long?” asked Lycon.

  “Odysseus is vain,” said Machaon quietly. “Perhaps he may be goaded into boasting. Remember how he taunted Polyphemus ... told him his name. It would gall him if a less clever man — one of the other kings — was credited with the destruction of Troy.”

  “All the other princes are dead,” said Lycon. “He is the only one left to claim the plaudits.”

  “No,” said Demodocus. “Red-haired Menelaus, the brother of Agamemnon, has returned. He and Odysseus were always rivals.”

  Machaon smiled. “Well then,” he said, “let Menelaus be praised and the name of Odysseus forgotten. It will rankle the King of Ithaca.” Machaon looked at his brothers. “I know Odysseus was behind the breach,” he said fervently. “If anybody betrayed Troy he knows who.”

  Cadmus agreed. Odysseus was the strategist of the Greeks, the wily king who was known for his tricks and deception. The stealthy breach of Troy’s walls reeked of Odysseus.

  Demodocus spoke. “Leave it to me, my friends,” he said his pale eyes glinting wickedly. “Who better to tell the story of Menelaus, the man who brought Troy to its knees, than the famed blind bard of Scherie?”

  Machaon smiled and leant towards Nausicaa. “Does anyone actually believe he’s blind?”

  “Dem can be quite convincing,” she said, meeting his eyes. “Though he does overdo it, sometimes.”

  Demodocus protested half-heartedly, and then quickly resumed his unseeing demeanor as the princes of Scherie returned, decked out in royal splendour.

  “What are you still doing here?” Clytoneus asked his sister. “Shouldn’t you be dressing for the feast? We’re never going to find you a husband looking like that!”

  The princess responded fiercely in a manner that was not refined, and the sons of Agelaus looked at her with even greater admiration. Upon the conclusion of her tirade, however, she took Hero and departed to do exactly as her brother advised.

  And so it was that they were all in the rich hall that was laid out for a feast of princes, when Odysseus came to the palace. The sons of Agelaus were seated amongst the younger nobles, of whom there were many, on the far end of the long table. In such company, seated so far from the king, they were unlikely to be noticed.

  Odysseus walked directly to Queen Arete’s throne and fell to the ground in abasement. He clasped her knees and begged for her aid in the name of Zeus the Thunderer, protector of supplicants. He pleaded with her to arrange his conveyance to his own country, and then having made his petition, the King of Ithaca sat in the dust by the hearth in a great show of humility.

  Hero heard Nausicaa sigh as they watched from the back of the hall. “We just washed those clothes,” the princess complained crossly.

  Queen Arete and King Alcinous responded with the kindness and courtesy for which they were known. Laodamas vacated his own silver throne for the Ithacan King, who had not yet mentioned his name or his station. Food and wine was brought for the guest, and all the cups of the hall filled for a drink-offering to Zeus the Thunderer. The Phaeacian lords all voted that the stranger who asked their help be given his passage home. It was only later in the evening, when all the guests had eaten their fill, that Queen Arete asked Odysseus from where he had come and who had clothed him. The sharp-eyed monarch had recognised the cape she herself had made for Laodamas upon the man’s back.

  The King of Ithaca’s reply was guarded and somewhat evasive.

  “My Queen,” said he, “It would be a wearisome tale if I were to recount all that I have been through, for I have had a great spell of evil luck, but I will tell you how I came to be here.”

  He told the court of Ogygia and Calypso, waxing lyrical of the goddess’ great love for him and her unwillingness to let him go.

  “He makes it sound as though he was there for seven years rather than seven days,” Lycon murmured to his brothers as Odysseus detailed the care and luxury showered upon him by the supposedly besotted goddess.

  “And then, one day, in obedience to a visit from Hermes, who had shown me friendship before, the goddess urged me to go. I built a sturdy ship for the task, and set out under a warm friendly breeze summoned by Calypso as a last token of her love.”

  “This is fascinating,” whispered Cadmus dryly.

  “For seventeen days sailing was clear and I approached the shadowy mountains of your land,” Odysseus went on. “And then I was beset by a storm which shattered my ship and left me in wine-dark sea. I managed to swim to the shore, where I climbed under the shelter of a bush and, covered in fallen leaves, fell into the sleep of the exhausted. I was woken by the sound of girlish chatter, and so I encountered your beautiful daughter, whom I first mistook for a goddess, so perfect was her form. I appealed to her for help and she provided me with food and wine, the cl
othes you see, and directed me to the palace of her father as modesty dictated.”

  “He still doesn’t say why he was naked,” muttered Lycon.

  Alcinous seemed extremely moved by his guest’s story, though he still did not know who the man was.

  “Set your mind at rest,” said the King of the Phaeacians. “I appoint tomorrow as the day for your conveyance home. We shall send you off properly first, of course, and then you can sleep, as my young men row you over tranquil seas, until you are in your own country again ... unless you are willing to stay. I would like nothing better than to have you take your place here as my son-in-law.”

  Machaon stiffened. Cadmus put a cautioning hand upon his shoulder for the sons of Agelaus knew each other well. “He can’t be serious, Mac,” he said. “It’s probably just some kind of traditional welcome.”

  “What?” asked Machaon tersely. “Have some food, wine and my daughter?”

  It appeared, however, that Cadmus was right, for no man present, Odysseus included, seemed to take Alcinous’ offer seriously.

  “Perhaps there’s something terribly wrong with Nausicaa that we haven’t noticed,” Lycon whispered, bemused by the king’s eagerness to marry off his daughter. Odysseus launched into a long and grateful speech expressing his joy that he should soon go home.

  “There’s nothing wrong with her,” said Machaon firmly.

  When Odysseus finally concluded his praise of Alcinous, the court retired. Queen Arete ensured that the most comfortable of beds was prepared for their guest. Nausicaa took Hero to her apartments whilst the sons of Agelaus were accommodated in one of the many rooms reserved for the use of the Phaeacian princes.

  The Herdsmen fell gratefully into beds made up with fine linens and warm blankets. Demodocus too had a bed in the chamber for it seemed he was a permanent fixture in the court of Alcinous.

  “Surely they’re not going to provide Odysseus with a ship and crew without even asking his name?” said Cadmus in frustration. “So far he’s pretty much said nothing.”

  “Not even why he was naked,” Lycon agreed.

  “Be patient, my friends,” said Demodocus soothingly. “Tomorrow Alcinous will present him to the council of lords. They will ask Odysseus to give an account of himself after the gift giving ... ”

  “Gift giving?” asked Machaon. “Odysseus has nothing to give.”

  “The court will give him gifts,” Demodocus explained.

  “Why?”

  “It’s our defence policy,” the bard replied. “It has long been the opinion of the Phaeacian high born that men are wasted fighting wars. Defence is a very expensive business and it is not really our talent.”

  “I’m not sure I follow,” said Cadmus.

  “Well, it is our strategy to be generous. We shower every guest and supplicant with gold and other forms of material kindness ... generates goodwill, a sense of obligation, makes us less likely to be attacked.”

  “Really?” Lycon was sceptical.

  Demodocus grinned. “You’d be surprised how well it works. It is far cheaper than maintaining an army. Our men are free to build the ships that surpass all others, and our women can weave the finest linens in the world without fearing for their husbands and sons. In this way Alcinous had come to govern the richest of kingdoms, for we do not waste men or gold in war.”

  “These gifts,” asked Machaon. “Do they include Nausicaa?”

  Demodocus laughed.

  “You must not worry about the princess,” he said. “Alcinous will not give up his daughter readily. He was probably just trying to prompt her suitors to increase their own proposals. Nausicaa will only be won by the most noble and wealthy of men.”

  Machaon said nothing.

  They talked deep into the night as the bard was anxious to hear all the details of their travels. The great stories of mortals, as well as gods, were the fare of his trade. The Herdsmen were happy to tell him what they could, though they did so drowsily.

  “What you don’t seem to realise, my friends,” Demodocus said enthusiastically as the sons of Agelaus drifted into sleep, “is that we are players in the greatest of stories!”

  “Surely you are an athlete for no fame is greater than the reputation of what a man can do with his hands and feet.”

  The Odyssey – Book VIII

  BOOK XXVI

  WHEN EOS NEXT HELD the land of the Phaeacians in a grip of gold and crimson, Alcinous had already taken his nameless guest to view the black ship being prepared to take him home. Fifty-two young men were chosen to row and crew the vessel and the necessary preparations were made. The Phaeacian King invited the entire ship’s company to join the nobles of his court in a feast before they embarked.

  Back at the palace, Alcinous ordered that a dozen sheep, eight white-tusked boars and a couple of shambling oxen be sacrificed to feed the numerous party. Demodocus was summoned to entertain.

  Before he went the bard took the hands of the Herdsmen momentously. “This is it, my friends,” he said with bubbling excitement. “Let us set our trap.”

  Laodamas arrived to guide Demodocus to the feasting hall, where he was installed in a silver studded chair and given his lyre. The sons of Agelaus took seats amongst the oarsmen recruited to propel the ship that would return the king’s mysterious guest to a desitination not yet disclosed. Hero stood by Nausicaa’s golden throne. When all the lords and princes had been served, Demodocus took his lyre and began his tuneful tale.

  “This story, which the muse has placed in my heart, and which I pray she will guide me in telling, is the tale of the greatest battle of our time and that wily, nimble-witted king, Menelaus of Sparta.”

  The lords present voiced their approval at this subject. The Herdsmen watched Odysseus, whose face remained unreadable.

  It was soon apparent that Demodocus’ position as the most revered bard of the Phaeacians was a place he held justly. His voice was clear and melodic; his skill with lyre, enchanting; and his ability to wrought words into images of tragedy and triumph, beyond compare. He took the illustrious gathering to the plain of Troy and showed them the white-walled citadel, a fortress that had never been breached. He sang of the noble Trojans, comfortable in the safety of the immense walls. And then he began his tale of red-haired Menelaus, the wronged King of Sparta who came to Troy to retrieve his wife. Menelaus, he claimed, was the most nimble-witted of the Greek generals. It was he who sought the herders of Ida, who were the guardians of Troy, and tricked them into betraying the city. The herders, he sang, led fifty Greek soldiers through the secret ways into the holy citadel. The gates were then opened from the inside, and fair-minded Menelaus called out the Trojans to fight without retreat.

  Prepared though they were for the fact that the tale would need to be told in this way, it was almost more than the sons of Agelaus could bear. They kept their faces lowered lest their eyes reveal the fury and horror in their depths. Odysseus too, did not hear the bard’s song happily. His eyes fashed and often he brought his purple mantle to his face to hide his outraged tears from the Phaeacians. But the Herdsmen noticed, and it helped them to sit quietly through the tale that slandered their people. King Alcinous also saw the distress of his guest and, though the kindly monarch seemed intrigued, he sought to soften the man’s misery.

  “My friends,” he said to the gathering, once he’d prevailed upon Demodocus to pause his song. “We have eaten our fill and enjoyed the tales of Demodocus, who knows no equal as the banquet’s companion ... Let us suspend our feasting now and go outside to try our hand at various sports, so that when our guest reaches home, he can tell his friends that at boxing, wrestling, running and jumping there is no one who can beat the Phaeacians.”

  The noblemen agreed readily and Alcinous led the way to the palace lawns.

  The Herdsmen looked at each other in shock.

  Cadmus cursed under his breath. “What are we going to do now?”

  “Gods!” Lycon muttered in disgust. “It turns out they’re Greeks a
fter all.”

  “Don’t panic,” said Machaon quietly, though he too was at a loss. It had seemed for a moment that Demodocus’ ploy was working, and now the world stopped to play sport. “We’ll go outside with the others, and we will speak to Demodocus at our first chance.”

  The Phaeacians it appeared were entirely Greek in their love of games, for Alcinous’ suggestion was adopted with competitive vigour. The princes and nobles, young and old, all participated with enthusiasm. The Herdsmen watched frustrated. Odysseus too, did not compete, but brooded sullenly in the wake of the bard’s account.

  Nausicaa brought Demodocus to the sons of Agelaus before long. She held Hero’s hand as well, lest the girl get lost in the crowd.

  “I wanted to catch you before we left the hall,” Demodocus said apologetically, “But, of course, I’m not supposed to be able to see you.”

  “What now?” asked Lycon unable to keep the exasperation out of his voice.

  The apparently blind bard smiled. “Patience,” he said. “This athletic interlude was unexpected, but we will use it to our advantage. Surely a blind man should not have to point out the discontent on Odysseus’ face. He will feel the need to reassert himself soon. The games will help in fact — there is something about running and jumping that seems to stir the Greek sense of self and pride.”

  “But he is not participating,” Cadmus pointed out.

  “Oh, but he will,” Demodocus said smugly. “Laodamus will challenge him — your brother is a fine man, Nausicaa, and I love him like my own kin ... but he is simple and quite easy to manipulate. A friendly suggestion and see ... he runs to do my bidding.”

  Laodamas was indeed talking to Odysseus. At first the Ithacan refused his invitation to participate.

  “Watch for it ... ” said Demodocus as another stocky noble entered the conversation. “That is Eurylaus. He is also suggestible, but he can be relied upon to put his case offensively and so provoke any man into action.”

  Indeed, Odysseus did seem to take umbrage at whatever it was that Eurylaus said. He responded hotly, and then jumped to his feet. Without even pausing to remove his cloak, Odysseus picked up the largest discus he could find and flung it from the mark. The discus flew high and long and landed a significant distance in front of any other. The crowd broke into appreciative applause and Odysseus began a speech of triumph in which he challenged any man in every sport.