Odysseus II

by Odysseus II- The Journey Through Hell (retail) (epub)

  Then a wave of fear hit him. The song was getting softer. Soon he’d leave the beautiful women far behind. He cried out in a desperate panic, and the women rose from out of the flowers and began moving down the hillside towards the beach. Odysseus could now see that they weren’t women at all, but huge, flightless kingfishers with fan-like tails and human faces. They were hideous, they were horrible, but still Odysseus was irresistibly drawn to them. If only he could bury his head in their soft, downy feathers, he’d be happy for ever.

  But now the boat was pulling way, and as the song grew fainter, Odysseus’ eyes began to clear and he saw the most terrible sight. What he’d thought were rocks weren’t rocks at all, but the skeletons of shipwrecked sailors. The feathers fell from the Sirens and then they weren’t birds at all, but hideous fish-like creatures, slithering across the rocks, screaming at Odysseus to return. Soon they were perched on the peak of the highest reef, cursing and swearing, and tearing at their own skins in rage. They knew that if Odysseus didn’t return they were doomed.

  And he did not return. The boat was out of reach. In a final terrifying scream the voices of the monsters rose in hysterical fury and one after another they threw themselves off the pinnacle and smashed into the rocky sea below. Soon all that was left was a mass of sodden scales and fish bones like the mess in a fishmonger’s slop-bucket. They were dead for ever. Odysseus had saved the world from the Sirens.

  Not that he looked like a hero. He hung from the mast half-fainting, panting with exhaustion. But the spell was broken, and already it seemed nothing more than a ghastly nightmare. Gradually he became aware of a throbbing pain in his wrists and ankles. Then he heard Eurylochus’ voice and opened his eyes.

  “Are you all right?” asked the first mate.

  “Yes. You can untie me now.”

  “Pardon,” replied Eurylochus. “Sorry, I can’t hear you.”

  Chapter Four

  4 – Meat (not a chapter for the faint-hearted)

  Odysseus was feeling rather pleased with himself. “We did a good deed today,” he said. “No one’s ever going to get torn to pieces by those Sirens again.”

  He lay in the bottom of the boat and watched his crew cleaning out their ears. A gentle, warm breeze played across his face and a lonely albatross circled overhead while Eurylochus bandaged his aching wounds. In the quiet and the calm he thought to himself – “Perhaps Tiresias was wrong. Perhaps the agony is over. Perhaps we’ll all be able to sail home in peace.”

  But Tiresias was not wrong. Odysseus and his men were heading for a hell on earth.

  Suddenly the boat lurched forward and began to pick up speed. Thersites raced to the prow. Ahead of them was a long, black, jagged reef stretching from horizon to horizon. The surf crashed against it in deafening explosions, then fell back to reveal the shattered remnants of a hundred ships – torn sails, rotten masts, rotted bones. And Odysseus’ boat was caught in a fierce current which drew it nearer to the deadly rocks every second.

  “We’re going to die!” screamed Thersites. “We’re all going to die!” ’

  But Odysseus could see a tiny gap in the rocks just big enough for the boat to sail through. He grabbed the ship’s wheel from the helmsman’s clutches and steered towards it.

  The men sprinted over to their captain and cheered and patted him on the back.

  “We’re not going to die!” screamed Thersites. “We’re all not going to die! We’re saved. We’re saved.”

  But as the men kissed Odysseus’ feet and stroked his beard in gratitude, his mind raced back to the words Tiresias had spoken. The blind boy prophet’s tinkling voice rang in his ears saying: “Of all the hideous monsters in creation, the foulest and most terrifying are Scylla and Charybdis, and they live in the straits that pass through the long, black reef. In the cliff to the left lives the Dog Monster, Scylla. She has a long black tail, the body of a giant Dobermann Pinscher, and six vicious dogs’ heads at the end of six long, snaking necks. When a boat passes, each head seeks out a sailor and chews him to pieces like a manky old slipper. On the right side lives the Frog Monster, Charybdis. He lies on the sea bed, opens his huge, froggy mouth, sucks the ocean into his bloated green body, swallows passing ships whole and then spits the bits out in a giant waterspout.”

  So, this wasn’t going to be easy. Odysseus shivered as they sped into the straits, the cliffs on each side casting giant shadows across the boat. Then there was a deafening, sucking sound and the sea to their right opened up in a vast whirlpool – it was Charybdis, the Frog Monster.

  At once, the men’s cheers turned back to cries of terror.

  “We’re not saved after all!” screamed Thersites. “We are going to die!” and the men began racing around, grabbing their possessions and throwing the lifeboats into the water. But as they scrambled over the side, Odysseus grabbed each of them by the scruff of the neck and hurled them back on deck.

  Before they could ask why, they understood.

  The empty lifeboats picked up speed and hurtled towards the whirlpool. Once, twice, three times they sped round it, then down they plunged to their destruction.

  From far below came a crunching sound. Then SPLUUUUME! The whirlpool turned inside out and became a giant, gushing spout of water, on the crest of which bobbed the remnants of the lifeboats, chewed to the size of matches.

  “Hard to port!” yelled Odysseus. “Steer to the other side!”

  Eurylochus raced to the prow and shouted orders as the boat veered hard over to the left-hand cliff.

  “Keep your head down,” ordered Odysseus.

  “I know what I’m doing,” snapped Eurylochus.

  But he didn’t.

  He never heard the SNIFF! SNIFF! SNIFFING! from inside the cliff. He never saw the clouds of foul, dog’s breath swirling above him, or the long, black neck snaking towards him.

  But the crew did. They froze in horror as a dog’s head the size of a killer whale came speeding down the cliff side.

  Eurylochus stopped short, puzzled by the look on his comrades’ faces. Then he turned to see what they were staring at. He didn’t even have time to scream.

  With one deft flick of her yellow tongue, a massive pink-eyed Dobermann had scooped him into her mouth, chewed him and swallowed him. Then her long neck shot back up the cliff, and in an instant she had completely disappeared. But from deep within the cliff came a THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! as her tail wagged from side to side in pleasure.

  The sailors stayed rooted to the spot, paralysed by the loss of their first mate until, “DUCK!” barked their captain.

  Five more jet-black necks were rocketing towards the ship, seeking their prey. Desperately the men tried to hide, but there was no escape. Through the rigging appeared one head; down the hatches sped another; through the cabins, into the wheel-house, below the decks, another and another and another. Until, with five great barks, five dogs’ heads retreated up the cliff with five pairs of legs dangling between their teeth.

  There was no time for mourning; for at that instant the whole ship began to spin. It was heading back towards the whirlpool! Never had they been in a worse situation. Death to the left of them, death to the right and only the tiniest chance of survival in the middle. Odysseus looked to the left and heard the crunching of his sailors’ bones, and then he looked deep down into the hideous dark spinning hole. Far below, he caught sight of Charybdis’ wild eyes. Any moment they would disappear into the Frog’s hungry green mouth. But at that final desperate moment, Odysseus felt a gust of wind and had an idea.

  “Get your shirts off,” he roared. “We need sails, sails, sails!” In an instant, a thousand buttons flew into the air as his men tore the shirts from their bodies and held them aloft.

  On one side the whirlpool spun faster and faster, on the other the six dogs’ heads began speeding down the cliff again. But … ninety-four shirts billowed, the boat shot forward and WHUMPH! it was out of the straits, and on to the other side of the ocean.

  The crew shivered sil
ently for a long time. Then some began to sob and moan. Soon they were clutching each other tight, holding on in fear and sorrow and homesickness. They might be safe, but sorrow was their only companion.

  For days they drifted, not eating or speaking, until at last Thersites said “Cheer up. At least things can’t get any worse.”

  But Odysseus remembered Tiresias’ prophesy. “How wrong can you be?” he thought.

  A week went by and the sea calmed, the sun rose, and there was the sound of bird song. There ahead of them was another island. But the crew didn’t leap about in excitement; instead they asked themselves, will this place also be full of horrors? But as they got closer, their spirits rose. It certainly didn’t look a dangerous place. There were fields of waving grass; cows dotted hither and thither like farmyard animals and it was completely uninhabited.

  “It’s perfect!” said the crew, as they sailed slowly along the coastline.

  “Too perfect,” replied Odysseus. “Sail on.”

  There was a groan of frustration and dismay but Odysseus went on, “We can’t beach here. This is the island where the White Goddess keeps her cattle. Tiresias told me that if we kill even one cow we’ll never get home alive.”

  “It’s all right for you,” protested Thersites. “You’re strong and brave and good at games, but we’re just ordinary sailors. We’re fed up and frightened and exhausted. All we want to do is sit on dry land and eat our sandwiches. We won’t touch her stupid cattle.”

  “Of course not,” added the others. “I mean, some of us are even vegetarians. Please – let’s stop and rest.”

  “OK,” agreed Odysseus reluctantly. “But for five minutes, that’s all.” So they climbed off the boat, spread their table-cloths on the meadow grass and ate their sandwiches. In fact they were so well behaved, that Odysseus let them stay the night.

  But when darkness fell, out of the sea appeared a dripping figure the size of a mountain. It was the White Goddess.

  She reached up into the sky, pulled down a cloud, squeezed it and rain teemed down. She drew a deep breath, blew and there was a hurricane. She stirred the sea with her finger and massive breakers raced across the water. Then, having caused chaos, she smiled and slowly sank back beneath the ocean.

  *

  Odysseus woke with a start. “Storm!” he shouted. “Make the boat fast!” And knowing the ship was their only hope of survival, the crew leapt up, heaved it out of the water, lashed it down, and then climbed back on board to wait for the hurricane to end.

  It was a long wait.

  On the third day their sandwiches ran out.

  On the fifth day their biscuits ran out.

  On the seventh day their patience ran out.

  Wrapping their clothes tight around them, they set off in search of food. The island was full of delicious-looking, chubby, brown cows, dripping with drizzle. They had big, soppy eyes and soft, round, pink noses. But the men were forbidden to touch them. Thersites looked at them wistfully and his mouth watered.

  “I don’t suppose …” he began, sharpening his knife.

  “Leave those cattle alone,” ordered Odysseus. “You’re a vegetarian.”

  “All right. All right. I was only asking.”

  They combed the island for hours until they were soaked through to their vests and pants, but they found nothing to eat.

  By the tenth day they were thin as rakes. “We’ll be dead soon,” thought Odysseus and took up his bow.

  “I’m going to try again,” he announced. “Who’s coming with me?”

  “Go on your own,” replied Thersites, sulkily. “It’s wet outside. We’ll all get colds.”

  “All right,” answered Odysseus, “but whatever you do, don’t …”

  “Yes, we know,” chorused the men.

  Odysseus left the boat, and the men smiled at each other. Thersites slipped out and shuffled off in the other direction. The men waited. There was a distant THUNK! Then Thersites returned.

  “There’s been a terrible accident,” he said. “I was walking along with my sword over my shoulder, and I tripped over a cow, and accidentally its head fell off.”

  “What a shame,” replied the men sympathetically.

  “And now it’s dead it seems a pity to waste it, doesn’t it?” added Thersites.

  “Oh, yes!” agreed the men, and went out to collect firewood.

  Half an hour later, THUNK!, another sailor came back with another dead cow. “You’ll never guess what,” he said, “there’s been a terrible accident …”

  At dusk, a very wet Odysseus returned with berries and a dead rabbit. The smell of roast meat filled the air. All round the boat were shelters made of tarpaulin and brushwood, and underneath them were sailors sheltering from the rain, laughing, telling stories and singing “One man went to mow”. Odysseus knew the terrible truth – his men were throwing a barbecue.

  He strode up to them in fury.

  “You swore you wouldn’t kill the cattle,” he raged.

  “Don’t worry,” scoffed Thersites. “Stop nagging. Sometimes you’re just like my mother.”

  At that moment, a ghastly mooing filled the air. Everybody spun round. On Thersites’ fire, a whole cow’s carcass was roasting and the sound was coming from the dead beast’s mouth. Then all the other carcasses joined in, all the chops and the steaks and the spare ribs and even the little hamburgers.

  “Moo! Moo!” they went. “You’re Doooomed! Doooooomed!”

  Odysseus shivered. He knew what punishment was in store for his men, but he said nothing. Why spoil their last few hours on earth?

  Next morning the wind had dropped, the rain had stopped and larks were singing in the meadows.

  Thersites put his arm round Odysseus’ shoulder. “You see,” he said. “You were making a lot of fuss about nothing. Come on, let’s get under way.”

  They dragged their boat back to the water and rowed off, with oars in one hand and cold chops in the other. Soon, the Island of the Cattle was out of sight, and they were all alone on an emerald sea, when …

  CLICK!

  The whole sky was plunged into darkness as though someone had switched off the light, and once again the dreadful mooing started. Soon it was so loud that the men slapped their hands over their ears in pain. Then, a single flash of green lightning illuminated the boat and the men watched in horror, as out of the sea, rose two white arms, a hundred metres from armpit to fingernail. Five massive fingers wrapped themselves around the prow of the boat, five massive fingers clasped the stern and … CRACK!

  The ship snapped in two like a cream-cracker. Water gushed in and the two halves began to sink.

  “Help us! Help us, Odysseus!” cried the men, but there was nothing he could do. They were miles from land and the lifeboats were lost.

  Then, by the light of a second flash of lightning, Odysseus saw the deadly black fins of a school of sharks darting in and out of the wreckage. One after another his men, his faithful men – men of Ithaca he had fought beside and protected for over ten years – were pulled under the waves, kicking and screaming and doomed.

  Only Thersites was left. His white face bobbed up and down as he swam towards Odysseus. Nearer and nearer he came. Odysseus stretched out his hand until their fingers were almost touching … But suddenly – YANK! Thersites shot backwards at a hundred miles per hour, with sheer terror on his face.

  “Sir, sir!” he called in desperation. But it was no use, a split second later he disappeared; and where he had been, Odysseus saw only the giant fin of a shark and a little trail of blood.

  Now six black fins veered towards Odysseus and began to encircle him – closer and closer with every circle. Soon they were so close he could see razor-sharp teeth and hear the hiss of fishy breath.

  But Odysseus didn’t die. A plump, white hand plucked him from the water, and as the sharks snapped round him, he was lifted high into the air. Two fingers and thumbs tied him neatly to a piece of mast and dropped him back into the sea, miles away fr
om the sunken boat. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the hand was gone…

  And Odysseus was completely alone.

  All night long, he clung to that mast.

  Then, as the first rays of light illuminated the sea, he heaved himself up to see where he was going. His heart sank. He was drifting back the way he had come — back towards the black reef and the twin monsters, Scylla and Charybdis.

  He thought back to the terrible moment when Scylla had chewed up his First Mate, and realized it would be suicide to sail through the straits on her side. He would have to brave Charybdis, the Frog Monster.

  Nearer and nearer he drifted, until, just as he entered the straits, he began to paddle desperately over to Charybdis’ side. But there was nothing he could do. Once again there was a deafening, sucking sound, as though the plug had been pulled out of the biggest bath in the world, and the deadly whirlpool opened up in front of him. Around the edge of it he span, like soap in the plug hole. Any moment now, he’d topple into Charybdis’ ravenous throat, to be chewed up and spat out like a grape pip. Then he glanced up and saw above him, growing out of the side of the cliff, a tiny fig tree. And he had an idea. That fig tree was his only hope – his life depended on a twig.

  With all the strength he could muster he stretched up, snatched at an overhanging branch and held on tight.

  The mast dropped from between his legs and plunged down the centreiof the whirlpool to the ocean floor. Then, BLAM! the whirlpool became a water-spout as the frustrated Frog expelled two cubic miles of ocean from its swollen cheeks.

  That was Odysseus’ chance. With a desperate leap and split-second timing, he jumped and caught hold of the rocketing mast, gripping it with his arms and his thighs. VOOM! it shot upwards; SPLASH! it fell down into the sea; and ZOOM!, as he paddled like fury, it shot out of the straits and floated into the ocean on the other side.

  He was safe. Totally lost, totally alone but at least he was alive. Then he noticed something soggy in his hand. It was a fig – a ripe, juicy fig. He bit deep into the luscious fruit until the juice trickled down his cheeks.