For a long moment, Odysseus stared at Eurylochus in silence. Finally, he spoke calmly and decisively. “Take me there,” he said. “Show me the way.”
Eurylochus cried out in anguish. He threw himself at Odysseus’ feet and begged for his life.
“No, no! Never again!” he cried. “Let us escape this cursed island now—before the she-monster bewitches us all!”
Odysseus saw that he could not calm Eurylochus’ fears. But neither could he abandon his comrades trapped in the pigsty of the beautiful witch.
“Very well, stay here and rest with the others,” he said. “In truth, I am the leader of all the Greeks on this island. I must save my men. I will find the way alone.”
FOUR
THE MESSENGER GOD
Odysseus slung his bronze sword over his shoulder. His men watched with great distress as he left their camp and headed off into the woods.
Odysseus walked through the quiet green forest, through shadow and light, past gnarled trees and dense brush, until finally he came to the valley. In the distance rose the gleaming stone walls of the witch’s palace.
Odysseus halted. For a moment, he thought of turning back. But he quickly gathered his strength and moved boldly toward the gate.
Suddenly a young man stepped into his path.
Odysseus started to reach for his sword. But in an instant, he realized this was no ordinary human. The man was radiant. He shone with a light so bright that Odysseus was forced to looked away.
“Your courage is admirable, Odysseus,” said the stranger. “But do you know who your enemy is? Have you never heard of Circe the enchantress, daughter of the sun and the sea?”
Odysseus sighed with despair. He had indeed heard of Circe the enchantress. He knew that as a mortal, he had no power to escape her charms. Once he entered her palace, he would certainly be put under a spell like the rest.
“Do not despair, Odysseus,” said the stranger. “I have come to help you conquer Circe and free your men. Will you not trust Hermes?”
Odysseus looked up. Could this truly be Hermes, the messenger god of Mount Olympus, son of Zeus, and protector of heroes and travelers?
“I bring a charm to protect you from the witch’s spell,” said Hermes.
“What is it?” breathed Odysseus.
“A special herb, impossible for humans to unearth,” said Hermes. “Only the gods can take it from the ground.”
The god reached into a bag and pulled out a black-rooted herb with a flower as white as milk.
“The gods call the flower moly,” he said. “Eat the moly, and it will protect you from anything that Circe gives you to eat or drink. When she taps you with her wand, draw your sword and make her swear an oath not to harm you.”
Hermes handed the black-rooted herb to Odysseus. Then, without a word, the shining god turned and disappeared back into the green forest.
Odysseus stared after Hermes in wonder. Until now on his journey, Odysseus had only angered the gods—the warrior goddess, Athena; the sea god, Poseidon; and the wind god, Aeolus. Were the gods looking upon him with favor again?
Odysseus looked down at the magic moly in his hands. He raised the flower to his lips and ate it. Then, with new strength and courage, he walked toward the gleaming walls of the witch’s palace.
FIVE
THE WITCH’S PALACE
Odysseus opened the gate that led to Circe’s palace. Huge wolves and lions prowled the courtyard. The animals approached him eagerly, sniffing the air and making soft, friendly sounds. Odysseus stared at them with horror and pity. He knew that they were men trapped in the bodies of wild creatures.
Odysseus moved swiftly through the courtyard. At the door of the palace, he called out for Circe.
Soon the enchantress appeared. Her long braids gleamed like gold. Her jeweled gown shimmered and sparkled.
She spoke in a soft, warm voice. “Enter, please,” she said to Odysseus, and she held open the door.
Without a word, Odysseus stepped into the sunlit palace. Circe invited him to sit down and rest.
“Let me make a drink to refresh you after your long travels,” she said.
She left the room for a moment. Then she came back with a cup, and she handed it to Odysseus.
“Here,” she said. “Drink this.”
Odysseus put the cup to his lips. As he sipped the brew, Circe tapped him with her wand.
“Foolish man!” she said. “Off to the pigsty with the rest of them!”
Hermes’ magic herb protected Odysseus from Circe’s evil spell. He did not turn into a pig as the witch had expected. Instead, he pulled out his bronze sword and held it to her throat.
Circe shrieked in alarm. “Why does my magic have no effect on you?” she cried. “Who are you? What is your name?”
“My name is Odysseus,” he told her.
“Odysseus!” she said. “Hermes once told me that a great warrior named Odysseus would someday visit my palace. If you are indeed this man, put away your sword! We must trust one another and become friends.”
Odysseus glared at her. “How can you speak of trust when your evil magic has transformed my men into beasts? You must swear an oath that you will do nothing to harm me.”
Circe bowed her head. In a whisper she swore not to harm Odysseus. When Odysseus put his sword away, she called for her handmaidens.
Lovely nymphs of the woods and rivers slipped out from the shadows of the palace. They made a great fire under a huge cauldron of water.
Odysseus bathed in the soft, healing waters. Then he dressed in a flowing cloak. The nymphs led him to the great hall of the palace where a feast had been prepared for him.
Circe invited Odysseus to sit at her table. She filled their golden cups with wine.
But Odysseus would not eat or drink. He sat in silence, staring at Circe.
“Odysseus, why will you not eat my bread or drink my wine?” she asked. “You must not fear me now, for I have given my solemn oath that I will never harm you.”
Odysseus fixed his eyes upon her. “What sort of captain could enjoy meat or wine when his men are not free?” he asked. “If you want me to be happy at your table, you must undo the spell you have cast over my men.”
Circe held his gaze for a long moment. Then she took a deep breath and rose from the table. With her wand in her hand, she stepped out of the palace into the courtyard.
Odysseus followed her and watched her open the gate to the pigsty. Twenty-two fat pink hogs barreled forward, snorting and grunting.
The enchantress rubbed a potion on the head of each animal, then touched them all with her wand. All at once their bristles fell off, and the pigs miraculously turned back into men. The men were younger, taller, and more handsome than ever before. They embraced Odysseus and wept with joy. They asked about their comrades.
Even Circe was moved by the tears of her captives. “Odysseus, go back to the rest of your crew. Bring them to my palace,” she said. “I swear that I will treat them well, too.”
Odysseus left the palace. He hurried through the green forest until he came to the men waiting for him on the shore. When they saw their leader alive, they shouted with great relief and threw their arms around him.
“With the help of Hermes, the spell of Circe, the enchantress, has been broken,” said Odysseus. “Your comrades have all been turned back into men. Come with me now to the palace and you shall be united with them.”
Some of the Greeks drew back in fear.
“I assure you,” Odysseus told them gently, “Circe has sworn to welcome you into her palace.”
All the men finally agreed to go with Odysseus. They pulled their ship onto the shore and hid all their belongings in a cave. Then they followed Odysseus back through the shadowy green forest until they came to Circe’s glimmering palace.
Circe welcomed the Greeks into her palace. She bid her handmaidens to draw baths for the men and anoint them with olive oil. The nymphs gave the tired Greeks woolen cloaks and tunics, then
led them to a feast in the great hall.
At the feast, Circe urged Odysseus to remain with her in her palace. “You are not the same man you were when you left Ithaca long ago,” she said. “Your battles and sorrows have left you weak and weary. Your own family will not know you.”
Odysseus did indeed feel a great weariness as he thought of the war with Troy and his nightmarish voyage toward home—the monsters and giants, the cruel deaths of his men.
“Stay with me until you have forgotten all your grief and sad memories,” said Circe. “When you are strong in mind and body, I will help you find your way home.”
Feeling the burden of his losses, Odysseus surrendered to the wishes of the lovely witch. He promised Circe he would stay with her until he and his men were strong again.
SIX
ANOTHER JOURNEY
In the days that followed, Odysseus and his men enjoyed the warmth and luxury of Circe’s palace. They rested and ate good meat and drank sweet wine.
As they refreshed themselves on the enchanted island, time passed swiftly. The days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months. After a full year, Odysseus’ men came to him.
“Should we not leave this palace soon?” one asked.
“Have you forgotten Ithaca?” said another. “Shall we never see our homeland again?”
Odysseus’ heart was stirred by the words of his men. He thought of home—of Penelope and Telemachus, and of his mother and father. A great yearning to see them rose up in him. He hurried to Circe’s chambers.
“My men and I are strong again thanks to your kindness,” he said. “But remember the promise you made me? You said you would help us return safely to Ithaca, once we had rested and regained our strength.”
“And I shall,” said Circe. “But you must take another journey first. You must seek counsel from Tiresias, the blind prophet of Thebes. Tiresias sees the future. Only he can tell you how to get home.”
“But Tiresias of Thebes is dead,” said Odysseus, puzzled.
“Yes, Tiresias is dead,” said Circe, “but he still has all the wisdom he had on earth.”
“I do not understand,” said Odysseus. “How can one who lives in the Land of the Dead give counsel to a living man?”
“You must travel to the Land of the Dead,” said Circe. “There you will speak to the ghost of Tiresias.”
Odysseus could not speak. It seemed an unbearable terror for a living man to visit the dark world ruled by the god Hades, and his queen, Persephone.
“No man has ever found the Land of the Dead,” he said in a hushed voice. “Only the spirits know how to travel there. What ship will take me? What wind will blow?”
“You cannot travel all the way there in your ship,” said Circe. “The North Wind will take you to the edge of the sea, to Oceanus, the river that circles the world. Once you have sailed across Oceanus, you may enter the Land of the Dead.”
“What must I do then?” Odysseus asked.
“You must disembark from your ship and travel on foot through a grove of willows and poplars,” said Circe. “When you come to the place where two rivers meet—the River of Groans and the River of Flame—dig a trench. Pour honey, milk, wine, and white barley meal into it, as gifts to the spirits of the dead. Then sacrifice two sheep and pour their blood into the trench. After you have done this, stand guard until the ghost of Tiresias appears. Allow him to drink from the trench, and he will tell you how to find your way home to Ithaca.”
Odysseus bowed his head. He knew he could not avoid this dreadful journey if he wanted to see his home and family again. He tried to gather his courage, as he so often ordered his men to do. He looked up at Circe and nodded.
Then, without another word, Odysseus pulled on a fine cloak and strode through the palace, waking each of his men.
“Rise now,” Odysseus said. “We must leave this place today.”
The men were relieved, for they imagined they were about to set sail for home. But when the Greeks had gathered outside the palace, Odysseus revealed their true destination.
“Soon we will set sail for Ithaca,” he said. “But first we must go on another journey. We must travel to the Land of the Dead. There I will speak with the ghost of the wise prophet Tiresias.”
The men cried out in protest. But Odysseus told them he had no choice.
“Only Tiresias can tell me how to find the way home,” he said. “Please, come with me. Give me company on my journey to the Land of the Dead.”
Their heads bowed in anguish, the men followed their leader down to their ship. They climbed aboard. They hoisted their sails and pushed out to sea.
As the black ship sailed over the waves, Odysseus felt a gust of warm gentle wind. He sensed that Circe was close by.
The enchantress sent fresh breezes all day. She filled the sails of the black ship and sent it flying over the waves.
SEVEN
THE LAND OF THE DEAD
When the sun had gone down and darkness had fallen, Odysseus and his men arrived at the edge of the sea. They sailed through a gray mist into the deep waters of Oceanus, the river that flows around the world. Then they sailed across Oceanus and finally came to the Land of the Dead.
The Greeks moored their vessel on a dark riverbank shrouded in fog. As they stared into the mist, the men shook with terror, afraid to venture into the haunted realm. Odysseus himself trembled at the thought of what lay ahead. But with firm resolve, he stepped ashore and ordered his men to follow him with two sheep from Circe’s island.
Odysseus and his men traveled on foot through a grove of poplars and willows. They stopped when they came to the place where two rivers met, the River of Flame and the River of Groans.
There, in a place never touched by the rays of the sun, Odysseus dug a deep trench. He poured in the mixture of honey, milk, wine, and white barley meal. He offered prayers for the spirits of the dead. Then he ordered his men to slay the two sheep as a sacrifice to the gods.
As soon as Odysseus poured the blood of the sacrificed animals into the trench, ghostly beings appeared out of the mist—the spirits of old men and women, the spirits of warriors still wearing their armor, the spirits of young women who had mourned for their lost men and died of broken hearts.
Thousands of ghosts began moving slowly toward the Greeks. Drawn to the scent of the blood, they made strange wailing noises.
Odysseus’ men shook and trembled. Odysseus himself turned pale with fear. But he drew his sword to keep the spirits away until the ghost of Tiresias, the blind prophet, appeared.
While Odysseus fiercely guarded the trench, his gaze came to rest on one of the spirits floating through the mist. With shock and horror, he recognized someone he loved very dearly.
Moving toward him was the ghost of his own mother.
EIGHT
LIKE A SHADOW OR A DREAM
Odysseus wept. He had not seen his mother for more than ten years, not since he had left Ithaca. He knew now that one of his worst fears had been realized—while he had been away, his beloved mother had died.
He called her name. But the spirit of his mother did not speak to him—she did not seem even to recognize him. She seemed only to yearn for a taste of the sheep’s blood in the trench.
In spite of his great sorrow, Odysseus held up his sword and would not let his mother’s ghost come closer. He kept guarding the trench, waiting for the spirit of Tiresias to appear.
At last a frail figure drifted out of the mist. Carrying a golden scepter in his hand, the ghost of an old man moved through the swirling gray air toward the animal blood. Odysseus lowered his sword and allowed the spirit of Tiresias to drink from the trench.
Once the ghost had had his fill of the sheep’s blood, he rose and turned to Odysseus. In a clear, cold voice, he said:
“Odysseus, you have come to ask me about your journey home. The gods are making your voyage very difficult. They will not allow you to escape the anger of Poseidon for blinding his son, the Cyclops.”
&nbs
p; Odysseus felt a wave of despair. The curse of the Cyclops seemed too terrible for him to endure.
“Do not lose hope,” the ghost said. “You may still return to Ithaca. But you must heed my warning. On your way home, you will pass the island of the sun god. On this island there are many beautiful sheep and cattle. Do not let your men touch even one of these creatures. They are much adored by the sun. Any man who tries to slay them will meet his doom.”
Odysseus nodded.
“Tell your men to leave these herds untouched and think only of returning home,” the ghost said. “If they do not obey this command, they will die, and your ship will be destroyed. You alone might escape. But if you do, you will be a broken man. And you will find great trouble in your house.”
Odysseus was grateful for the wise man’s warnings. He resolved to keep his men from touching the cattle and sheep of the sun god.
“Many years from now, death shall come to you from the sea,” the ghost of the soothsayer said finally. “Your life shall leave you when you are old and have found peace of mind.”
Odysseus nodded. “If this is the will of the gods, so be it,” he said. As Tiresias started to move away, Odysseus called after him. “Wait, please, before you leave—”
The ghost turned back.
“Can you tell me why my mother’s spirit does not speak to me when I call her name?” Odysseus asked.
“Your mother’s ghost can speak only if you allow her to taste the blood in the trench,” answered the ghost of Tiresias. “Until then, she has not life enough to speak.”
The spirit of the wise prophet turned away and Odysseus watched him fade back into the mist.
Odysseus then bid his mother’s ghost to come forward and taste the blood from the trench.
Once she had tasted the sheep’s blood, the spirit of Odysseus’ mother seemed to gain strength. When she looked again at her son, she cried out in surprise.
“My beloved!” she said. “You are not a spirit! Why are you here?”
Tales from the Odyssey, Part 1 Page 4