Heroes of Olympus

by Philip Freeman

  Nine days we sailed and on the tenth Ithaca was in sight! I had steered the ship the whole time and couldn’t stay awake. I fell into a deep sleep. My men thought the gift Aeolus had given me was a bag of silver and gold. They opened it while I slept. The winds tossed the ships about in a hurricane that blew us far from home. Soon we found ourselves back on the island of Aeolus. I pleaded for another fair wind to send us to Ithaca, but the king sent us away empty-handed for seeking a gift twice.

  Six days we rowed through calm seas and on the seventh came to the land of the Laestrygonians. Darkness never falls there. We sailed into a deep harbor and found the palace of King Antiphates. The people were giants, but they seemed friendly and welcomed us. Then the king entered, snatched one of my men, and tore him to pieces for dinner. The other Laestrygonians speared my men like fish. Some of us fought our way back to the harbor, but only my ship sailed away from that cursed land, one of the twelve ships that had left Ithaca many years before.

  We were sick for our murdered comrades, but we journeyed on. Lost and alone, we spied another island and pulled up on the beach. The next morning I climbed the cliffs and saw smoke rising from the heart of the island. I sent my comrade Eurylochus and almost two dozen men to see what kind of people lived on these shores. A few hours later, he ran back alone and told us to launch our ship quickly. He said they had come across a palace in the woods with gleaming bronze doors. A beautiful woman surrounded by tame beasts opened those doors and invited them to enter. Only he stayed behind, sensing a trap. The others drank the wine she offered and turned into pigs.

  I told my crew we were not leaving. We had lost too many men already and would make our stand here on this island. I forced Eurylochus to lead me back to the palace. The god Hermes, sent by Zeus, appeared and told me I was about to enter the halls of the great witch Circe. He gave me a magical herb to protect me from the witch’s brew, then he vanished.

  Circe welcomed me and gave me a goblet of her sweet wine. I drained the cup in one gulp, then threw it on the ground and raised my sword. She couldn’t believe that I had not been turned into a pig, and swore she would change my men back and help me on my journey. I spared her life and watched as my men regained their human form. Circe then offered me the hospitality of her home and called her nymphs to fetch the rest of the men from the ship. We welcomed the food and drink of Circe’s house—a feast that flows on forever.

  My men and I spent a year on Circe’s island while we rested. I lost all track of time. But at last I told our hostess we must leave. Circe warned me of what lay ahead: “Odysseus, royal son of Laertes, to sail home to Ithaca you must first make another voyage, one no ship has made before. You must journey to the house of death, and there seek counsel from the ghost of wise Tiresias.”

  These words crushed my heart. I asked her how this was possible. She replied that an entrance to Hades’s realm lay across the great river of Ocean far to the north. The spirit of Tiresias would tell me what I needed to know to make peace with Poseidon.

  The men drank Circe’s wine for the last time that night. One of the sailors, a foolish young man named Elpenor, fell from the palace roof and broke his neck in the early morning hours. There was no time to bury him. Once we set sail, I spoke to my crew: “Men, we are on our way to Ithaca, but there is one final journey we must first make. Circe has told me that we cannot find our way home until I have consulted the prophet Tiresias in the land of the dead.”

  The men thought I must be joking, then they saw that I was serious. How could anyone travel to the land of the dead and return, they asked? Hercules had journeyed there, as had Orpheus, but they were great heroes. We are just men, they cried. Even if we could sail this ship to Hades’s realm, we would be trapped there forever.

  Finally I convinced my crew we must travel to the dwelling place of ghosts or never see home again. With a last look at the world of the living, we turned our ship to the setting sun and sailed into darkness.

  I don’t know how long our voyage lasted, but at last we sailed to a land where the sun never shines. We beached our ship on a lonely shore. I found a sandy spot and dug a trench. I poured milk, honey, and wine into the hole for the dead, followed by water and barley. I took sheep and cut their throats over the trench so that the dark blood flowed in. Then I saw a sight to freeze your soul. Thousands of ghosts drifted toward me. I drew my sword and held them back from the blood they craved until I saw the ghost of young Elpenor who had fallen to his death on Circe’s island. I let him sip the blood so that he could speak. He begged me to give him a proper burial if I made it back to the witch’s home. I swore that I would do so.

  The figure I saw next brought pity and fear to my heart. It was my mother, Anticlea, whom I had left alive when I sailed for Troy. She was only a ghost now. In spite of my desire to question her, I would not let her drink the blood until I had spoken to Tiresias.

  The ghost of the prophet appeared and motioned me to lower my sword while he drank from the trench. At last he spoke: “Odysseus, son of Laertes, you have a difficult journey ahead of you. Many trials await you. You will come to an island where the cattle of Helios, god of the sun, graze. No matter how hungry you are, do not touch them. If you do come to rocky Ithaca, you will find things are not as you left them. If you become master of your house again, your journey will not be over. You must take an oar and carry it high into the mountains far from the sea. When someone at last asks you why you have a winnowing fan on your shoulder, plant the blade there and sacrifice to Poseidon. Then you will finally know peace.”

  The seer withdrew. Then I allowed my mother to drink the blood. When she had finished, I begged her to tell me of events in Ithaca and how she had come to the house of Hades. “My son, your home is overrun by wicked men who seek Penelope as their bride. She and Telemachus cannot hold them off forever. Your father, Laertes, has withdrawn in sorrow to a hut in the countryside. As for me, I could not wait for you any longer. My sweet Odysseus, I died of longing for you.”

  Tears rolled down my face as I tried three times to embrace her, but her ghost passed through my hands like smoke.

  Others came to drink from the trench. Mothers of great heroes, such as Leda, who bore Castor and Pollux, and Jocasta, the mother of Oedipus. Then warriors marched forward, friends I had known at Troy. The spirit of Agamemnon told me of his murder at the hands of his wife. Then great-hearted Achilles drank the blood as I congratulated him on being the most famous of the ghosts in Hades. But he laughed at me: “Odysseus, you are a fool if you think there is any glory here. I would rather be a living slave to the poorest farmer in Greece than rule over the kingdom of the dead.”

  Mighty Ajax would not drink, still angry over the armor of Achilles I had won instead of him.

  I saw countless others as they pressed forward to drink the blood. Terror gripped me and I called on my men to ready the ship before we were overwhelmed by all the ghosts of Hades. We rowed for our lives as the spirits cried for blood. At last we left that dark land behind and began our long journey back to the world of light.

  We returned to Circe’s island and buried Elpenor, just as he had asked. The beautiful witch warned me of what lay ahead—temptations, monsters, and death for some, though I did not tell this to my men. The next morning we set out again for Ithaca.

  A fair wind blew for many days, but suddenly it died in a strange sea. We took out our oars to row. Circe had told me what would happen next. I told my crew to fix beeswax tightly in their ears. I then ordered them to bind me to the mast with double ropes so that I alone could hear the song of the Sirens. These hideous creatures lured men to their doom with words that no one could resist. The men rowed with powerful strokes away from the island of these creatures, but I heard them singing: “Welcome, Odysseus, come closer! We know what wonders you accomplished at Troy, and will sing to you of your glorious deeds. Come and lose yourself in the past.”

  I was driven mad by their voices and told my men to untie me so that I could go to them
. My companions bound me all the tighter until we were far from their shore.

  Scarcely were we safe from the Sirens than we came to a narrow strait. On one side lay the monster Scylla, a creature with six heads that ate men raw. On the other side lay the great whirlpool, Charybdis, that dragged ships to their doom. Our only hope was to row as swiftly as we could between them. Scylla took six of my brave men, all screaming my name with their last breath. She ate them alive. Of all the deaths I had seen, these were the most horrible.

  At last we found a green island and pulled on shore. I had told my men we should row on, for this was the island of Helios, lord of the sun. Circe had warned me not to visit here, but my men begged for rest and swore they would not touch the cattle. At first they kept their word, but a fierce south wind held us on the island for a month. The food on our ship ran out and hunger racked our bellies. At last while I slept, my men killed and roasted one of the cattle. I awoke and told them they were fools, but the deed was done.

  The next day the wind finally died away and we set out from the island. But Helios complained to Zeus, and Zeus struck our ship with a lightning bolt. My men were thrown from our craft and cried as they sank down into the waves. I could do nothing except cling to a few broken planks and wait to die. But the gods had other plans. I washed up on the shores of Calypso’s island ten days later, alone of all the men who had set out from Ithaca so many years before.

  That is my story, great King Alcinous and gracious Queen Arete. You have heard the whole sad tale and now I ask only that you grant me a small ship so that I may find my way home.

  The king and his court sat spellbound as Odysseus finished his story. Alcinous told Odysseus he would have his sailors take him to Ithaca in his fastest ship. The king called on his nobles to give the penniless wanderer fine gifts of gold or silver so that he would not return to his home empty-handed. The lords of Phaeacia placed treasure on the ship. Then the king and queen led Odysseus to the docks and bid him a farewell.

  The Phaeacian ship cut through the waters at great speed. The son of Laertes was so exhausted that he fell into a deep sleep. As the morning star rose in the east, the sailors spied the shores of Ithaca. They carried the sleeping Odysseus to the beach and laid him gently down. The treasure they stored in a nearby cave, then sailed away.

  It was mid-morning before Odysseus awoke and found himself again in an unknown land. He thought the Phaeacian sailors had taken his treasure for themselves. He soon found the cave and counted his riches, but where was he?

  A shepherd boy appeared. Odysseus asked him what country this was. The lad laughed and said he was on the island of Ithaca. Odysseus was overjoyed, but he did not show it. He would not reveal his identity until he knew who his friends were on the island: “Ithaca? Yes, I’ve heard of it. I’m from Crete. I killed a man there when he tried to steal the booty I won at Troy. I fled on a ship of Phaeacian traders who brought me here.”

  At that moment the shepherd boy laughed again and turned into the goddess Athena: “Odysseus, this is why I love you. Any other man would have rushed to his house after twenty years, but you are always thinking. You’re right to be careful and trust no one—not even your wife, Penelope. Test them all before you reveal yourself. I will help you by transforming you into an old beggar. Then I’m off to Sparta to fetch Telemachus, who has been looking for you. Be careful. You have faced monsters and angry gods, but the dangers ahead are more treacherous.”

  The goddess touched Odysseus. His skin shriveled, his hair turned white, and his clothes turned into dirty rags. Athena gave him a staff and a beggar’s sack. Then she disappeared.

  Odysseus made his way to a nearby hut in the hills where his swineherd, Eumaeus, lived. The old servant welcomed the beggar—for Zeus watches over strangers—and gave him food. The king told the swineherd he was from Crete and had served beside Odysseus at Troy. He told Eumaeus he was blown off course to Egypt on the way home. He had lost everything—family, home, riches—before he washed up on these shores and only wanted directions to the palace so that he could beg for scraps.

  Eumaeus warned him that Odysseus was long absent and that wicked suitors had taken over his home. They would not treat the beggar kindly. Odysseus thanked the shepherd, then asked instead if he might stay with him. Eumaeus made a bed for the stranger in a corner of his hut.

  Athena meanwhile had flown to Sparta to send Telemachus home. The prince returned to his ship at Pylos and set sail for Ithaca. With the help of the goddess, he avoided the trap the suitors had laid for him and landed on the far side of the island. The young man wanted to question his old friend Eumaeus about what had happened at the palace during his absence.

  The swineherd embraced the prince like a long-lost son and brought him into his simple hut for bread and wine. The old beggar rose to offer Telemachus his chair, but the prince told him to sit. The beggar watched the young man closely, noting his fine bearing and clear mind. When Eumaeus left to take care of the pigs, Athena removed the disguise so that Odysseus stood like Zeus himself before the startled prince.

  “Friend,” exclaimed Telemachus, “are you a god from Olympus? Be kind to us here on this humble island and we will offer you rich sacrifices.”

  The shining figure shook his head. “I am a man like yourself. You have borne a world of pain these last twenty years, but no longer. I am Odysseus, your father.”

  At first Telemachus did not believe these words, but Odysseus told of what he had been through and how Athena had transformed him. The prince saw that it was true and threw his arms around his father.

  The two talked far into the night as Telemachus told him about each of the suitors who had tried to steal Penelope. Odysseus listened carefully and finally told his son what they would do. Telemachus had to return to his mother. The next day, when Athena had changed him back into a beggar, Odysseus would make his way to the palace. As soon as he had learned everything he needed to know, he would drive the suitors from his home. Telemachus was to say nothing about him to Penelope. Odysseus would reveal himself to her in his own time.

  After Telemachus left, Eumaeus led his guest to the palace of Odysseus with a warning to be on his guard.

  The wandering king at last entered the courtyard of his palace after twenty years away. He could hardly believe the tattered look of his beloved home or the crowd of suitors eating his food. It was then that an old dog in the corner pricked up his ears. He was Argos, trained as a puppy by Odysseus many years before. Now he lay blind and crippled on a pile of manure for warmth. Sometimes the servants threw him scraps of food. He heard the voice of his old master and used what little strength he had to raise his head. Odysseus dared not show any recognition. The faithful hound lowered his head and quietly died. His master wiped away a tear.

  The suitors yelled at Eumaeus for bringing the old beggar into the palace. There was hardly enough food for them, let alone some castaway. Odysseus humbly reminded them that strangers were protected by Zeus. They hit him with a stool and laughed as he tumbled into the dust. They made him fight another beggar whom they used as a messenger. The messenger was a former boxer with a large chest and powerful arms. Odysseus circled him pretending to be afraid, then sent him crashing to the ground with one punch.

  At that moment Penelope appeared on the balcony above, shining like a goddess. The suitors bowed to her, but she scolded them for their treatment of the beggar and went back to her quarters in disgust. Odysseus continued to gaze at the spot where she had stood. She was as beautiful as ever, with the same fire in her eyes. He did not dare to reveal himself to her yet. The suitors were well armed. It was better to wait and choose the right moment.

  That night after the suitors had retired to their quarters, Odysseus sat alone. A maid told him the lady of the house would like to speak with him. He found himself alone with Penelope. She gave him a stool to sit on and apologized for the treatment he had received. She told him that when her husband was lord of the house, he knew how to welcome guests. He wa
s gone now these twenty years and most said he was dead.

  Odysseus thanked Penelope and suggested it was time she looked for a new husband. Penelope smiled and said she still longed for Odysseus. She had tried to put off the suitors, but she had run out of time. If she waited any longer, they would kill her son, Telemachus. The beggar told her of how he had met her husband long ago in Crete where he stopped on the way to Troy. Penelope listened to his story with tears running down her cheeks. Odysseus longed to tell her everything, but he sat silent until she withdrew to her room to find comfort in sweet sleep.

  The old maid Euryclea then came to him at the bidding of Penelope and began to wash away the dirt from his feet. She had nursed Odysseus as a child. As she bent over to place his feet in the bath, she saw a childhood scar on his leg and knew in an instant that he was Odysseus. She started to shout for Penelope, but the clever warrior said he would strangle her if she said a word. She swore she would keep his secret and help him however she could. Odysseus told the old maid to stand ready, for the day of his revenge was about to dawn.

  The next morning Penelope once again stood on the balcony to speak to the suitors. She declared that the long wait was over. Odysseus must be dead and she must remarry. But first her new husband would have to prove himself. She ordered her servants to take twelve long axes and stand them up in the courtyard in a straight line with their handles facing upwards. Whoever would marry her would have to string the bow of Odysseus, then shoot an arrow through the metal loops at the end of each axe all in a row. The suitors declared it was impossible. Penelope said that Odysseus had done it. Then she retired to her quarters.