The Tale of Troy

by Roger Green

  Eurylochus returned with his terrible news, and Odysseus set out to punish Circe and try to restore his companions. As he walked through the wood Hermes the Immortal Messenger met him:

  ‘Odysseus, you may not overcome Circe by your own strength and cunning,’ said Hermes. ‘But take this herb which is called “moly” and cast it, unseen, into the cup which she will mix for you. Then drink it without fear, and when she strikes you with her wand, draw your sword and threaten to slay her unless she restores your companions and vows to do no further harm to any of you. Then you must live here with her for a year, and she will make you her lord and the master of this island. But at the end of that time I will come again and see to it that she sends you on your way with all things needful for your voyage.’

  All fell out as Hermes had said: the magic swine were restored to their human shapes, and Odysseus and his men passed a pleasant year in the enchanted palace of Circe.

  At the end of that time the enchantress sent Odysseus on his way with his ship well-stored, but advised him first to seek guidance from the blind prophet Tiresias.

  ‘He is numbered with the dead,’ Circe told him, ‘but you may come to the verge of the Realm of Hades by way of the Ocean Stream, the magic flood that girdles all the earth. Beach your ship where Acheron flows into Cocytus, a branch of the River Styx, and both run by a great rock into Ocean. There dig a trench, and pour forth the offerings, and the spirits of the dead will draw near to you. But keep them from the trench until Tiresias comes and you have learnt from him all that you need to know.’

  Away sailed Odysseus from the fair Aeaean isle and came to the White Rock and the Poplars of Persephone. There he did as Circe had instructed him, and learnt many things from the ghost of Tiresias. There also he saw the spirits of many a famous Hero and Heroine: his own mother, whom he did not know had died, was the first to greet him, and after her came Alcmena and Leda with many others who had been the brides of Immortals. He saw also the ghost of Agamemnon and learnt of his miserable end; and he saw Achilles and the other Heroes who had fallen at Troy: but when Ajax came he would not greet Odysseus, being still angered over their quarrel concerning the armour of Achilles. Heracles came also, and many more: yet these were but shadows, for Heracles himself dwelt among the Immortals, and Achilles walked the Elysian Fields with the dead Heroes.

  Then Odysseus sailed away, back to the world of light, and presently drew near to the island where the two Sirens still dwelt, though the rest of their number had perished when Jason passed by them unscathed thanks to the song of Orpheus.

  Now when the ship drew near Odysseus instructed his men to bind him to the mast and not to release him until the danger was passed. But to the men themselves he gave lumps of wax which they put into their ears so that they might not hear the fatal singing.

  On they sailed, and the Sirens sang their wonderful song, so that Odysseus forgot even his wisdom at the sound, and shouted to his men to unbind him. But they only bound him the tighter, and rowed on with great strokes of their oars.

  Then the Sirens sang again in their irresistible voices:

  ‘Come hither, hither over the wave,

  Glory of Greece – Odysseus brave,

  And hark to our magic song.

  For none has passed us over the main

  Till he harkened the honey-sweet voice of us twain,

  And tested what joys belong

  To the Siren maids: for all things we know,

  Past, to come, and the end of woe

  In the bliss of our magic song!’

  Odysseus shouted and struggled until he was exhausted, and when the Sirens' Isle was left far behind his men released him and drew the wax from their ears.

  Thus Odysseus was the only man who ever heard the Sirens singing and lived to tell of their

  song: for the music of Orpheus had drowned their singing when the Argonauts passed by. But the two Sirens fell from their rocks and died: for this doom was decreed if once a mortal escaped them after he had heard their song.

  The next danger came to Odysseus as his ship sped between Italy and Sicily: for on one side of the straits was the great whirlpool of Charybdis, and on the other the sea-dragon Scylla lurked in her cave. Remembering Circe's advice, Odysseus steered well away from Charybdis: but just as they swept by, Scylla appeared at her cave-mouth and grabbed six men with her octopus-like tentacles. While she was feasting on these, the ship passed into safety, and they anchored at Trinacria, an island of the Sun.

  Here grazed the golden cattle of the Sun Titan Helios, which Tiresias had warned Odysseus not to touch. Odysseus passed the warning on to his men. But after they had been becalmed there for many days, and were growing hungry, they disobeyed his orders and killed several of the cattle on which they feasted for six days.

  The wind rose on the seventh and they sailed away: but Helios had reported the theft to Zeus who hurled a thunderbolt which split the ship and drowned all save Odysseus who clung to the mast and floated away. He could not steer, and saw with terror that he was drifting towards the whirlpool of Charybdis. Into the whirlpool went the mast and was sucked down: but Odysseus leapt from it just in time and caught hold of a wild fig-tree which grew from the cliff above. To this he clung until he saw the mast shot up from the depths by the whirlpool: then he cast himself on to it, and was washed away until, nearly dead from exhaustion, the mast came to land on the island of Ogygia.

  In this magic isle dwelt the nymph Calypso, daughter of the Titan Atlas. She welcomed Odysseus, tended and fed him and begged him to remain with her for ever.

  ‘I will make you immortal,’ she said, ‘for indeed on this magic isle old age does not come. Here we may live for ever, the King and Queen of fair Ogygia, and you will have no more troubles, for suffering and sorrow shall be far from you.’

  But Odysseus, faithful to his home and longing for his wife Penelope, refused to wed Calypso or to vow to remain with her for ever. But he could not escape since his ship was lost and she would allow him no tools with which to build a new one. And she kept him there for seven long years while he sat day after day on the sea-shore gazing across the blue waves towards distant Ithaca and wearying his heart with longing.

  At length Athena, who took special care of Odysseus, went to Olympus and begged Zeus to grant him a safe home-coming.

  ‘My heart is torn for wise Odysseus, that hapless one,’ she said. ‘It is ten years since Troy was taken and still he alone of heroes has not won to his home. But now the guileful daughter of Atlas keeps him for the seventh year in her sea-girt isle striving to make him forget Ithaca: but Odysseus, yearning to see if it were but the smoke rise upwards from his own land, desires else to die.’

  Then Zeus made answer to wise-eyed Athena:

  ‘My daughter, I have not forgotten the much-enduring Odysseus whom Poseidon, girdler of the earth, keeps from home in his anger at the blinding of his Cyclops son Polyphemus whose mother was Thoosa child of the Sea Titan giant Phorcus. And now I will send Hermes the Messenger to Ogygia: for the time approaches when Odysseus shall come home.’

  So Hermes came to Calypso and told her the commands of Zeus: and she, weeping sorely, gave Odysseus all the tools that he needed to construct a big raft, and stores of wine, grain and dried flesh to take when it was made.

  Then she bade him farewell and he sailed over the smooth sea with a glad heart. But Poseidon, returning to Olympus from the land of the Ethiopians, and not knowing the will of Zeus, saw Odysseus nearing the land of Phaeacia on his raft. Then in a fury Poseidon called up the stormwinds, and whirling Odysseus into the deep, went on his way well pleased, deeming that this was the end.

  But Odysseus came safely to shore, and was found by the Princess Nausicaa who brought him to her father the King of Phaeacia, who entertained him kindly, listened to all his story and at length sent him home to Ithaca in one of his own ships.

  As it sped over the sea Odysseus fell into a deep sleep, and the kindly Phaeacians landed him still sleeping a
nd left him under a tree, surrounded with rich and generous gifts: and thus after ten years of wandering, Odysseus came home.

  CHAPTER 15

  ODYSSEUS IN ITHACA

  *

  Penelope for her Ulysses' sake

  Devised a Web her wooers to deceive

  In which the work that she all day did make

  The same at night she did again unreave.

  SPENSER

  Sonnet xxiii

  15

  When Odysseus awoke from sleep a mist lay over all the place and he did not know where he was. At first he lamented, thinking that the Phaeacians had landed him on some desert island and left him to his fate. But presently Athena came to him and drew back the mist. Then Odysseus knew his home, and kneeling down kissed the soil of Ithaca in his joy and thankfulness.

  ‘There is still much trouble before you,’ Athena warned him. ‘For a hundred and eight suitors have gathered in your hall to woo your wife Penelope. They dwell in the town, but come each day and feast riotously on your possessions: your flocks and herds grow few, your wine is well-nigh exhausted. But still your faithful Penelope holds them at bay, though she nears the end of her strength.’

  Then Athena told Odysseus how Penelope had baulked the suitors for three years with a cunning almost equal to his own.

  ‘I cannot choose a husband,’ Penelope had said, ‘until I have woven a fine robe to be the winding shroud of the hero Laertes, father of my lord

  whom you say is dead. It must be a worthy robe, fit for a hero: alas that I could not weave one for my lord Odysseus!’

  So Penelope wove at her loom day by day, working hard to make the shroud for Laertes; but every night she stole secretly to her loom and unravelled all that she had woven during the day. But at the end of three years some of her maids, who had fallen in love with several of the Suitors, betrayed her, and the Suitors lay in wait and caught her unpicking the web.

  Then they came in a body and told her that she must make her choice without any more delay. Penelope begged for a few weeks in which to decide, and this they allowed.

  ‘But today is her last day of grace,’ ended Athena, ‘and tomorrow they will demand her answer. It was when she knew that the end was near that she sent Telemachus to seek news of you. He is at Sparta, but I have been to him there, and he will return today. Go now to the cottage of Eumaeus the faithful swine-herd, whose father was a Prince of Phoenicia from whom he was stolen in childhood and sold as a slave to your father Laertes: him you may trust, and Philoetius the herdsman. But you must go in disguise…’

  Athena spoke more words of advice to Odysseus, and helped him to make himself like an old beggar. After this she departed to guide Telemachus across the sea from Pylos to Ithaca in such a way as to avoid a band of Suitors who had laid an ambush for him between two islands: Athena came to Telemachus in the guise of his wise tutor Mentor, and brought him safely home that day.

  Meanwhile Odysseus hid all the Phaeacian gifts in a cave, and trudged up the beach in his rags and – came after a short walk to the cottage of Eumaeus. Out rushed the dogs to drive off the beggar, and Odysseus sat down hastily, to show that he was a friend – a sign which Greek dogs still understand!

  Eumaeus came forth, welcomed the beggar kindly into his cottage and fed him well, though he had no idea whom he was really entertaining. Odysseus did not reveal himself until Telemachus came; but then they rejoiced together and made their plans against the Suitors.

  That evening Telemachus returned to the palace, and when the Suitors had gone home to bed, he removed all the weapons and armour which usually hung on the walls and pillars in the great hall where the feasts were held. He did not tell Penelope that Odysseus was in Ithaca, nor anything of the plan, but he suggested that, next day when the Suitors came to demand her hand in marriage for one of them, she should consent to marry whoever could bend the bow of Odysseus and shoot an arrow through the rings in the heads of twelve axes set up in a row – a feat which Odysseus himself had often performed in the days before he sailed to Troy.

  Next morning Odysseus the beggar came up to the palace, and on the way he met Melanthius the goatherd who jeered at him and kicked him in the side, calling him vile names.

  ‘If ever the great Odysseus returns,’ said Eumaeus sternly, ‘you will suffer for treating a stranger like this.’

  ‘Oh, he'll never return,’ cried Melanthius. ‘Depend upon it, he lies dead in some foreign field – and I only wish Telemachus was as dead as he is!’

  Odysseus passed on to the palace, and at the gate he saw his ancient hound Argus, blind and mangey, lying in the dirt where the Suitors had kicked him out to die. But as he drew near the old dog knew him, even after all those years: he struggled to his feet, sniffed at Odysseus, then licked his hand, whining with joy, and wagging his tail feebly – then sank down dead.

  There were tears in his eyes as Odysseus stopped to stroke his old friend and lay him out gently by the palace wall.

  Inside the courtyard Odysseus begged food from the Suitors, and was not kindly received. And there a real beggar called Irus tried to drive him out; for Irus was ravenously greedy, and spent all his time eating and drinking, and feared that the new beggar might take some of the food which would otherwise come to him.

  Odysseus argued with him gently, but Irus would not be reasonable and challenged him to fight with fists. The Suitors gathered round laughing to watch the duel between the two beggars, and promised to see fair play and reward the winner.

  When Odysseus bared his strong arms, Irus was afraid and would have slunk away; but the Suitors jeered at him and made him fight, calling him a bully and a cowardly braggart – as indeed he was.

  So Irus rushed in with a yell and struck Odysseus on the shoulder, but Odysseus struck back, though not as strongly as he could have done, and stretched Irus bleeding on the ground. Then he dragged him out of the palace, propped him up against the wall and left him, saying:

  ‘Sit there now, and scare off the swine and dogs; and do not bully beggars again, or a worse thing may befall you!’

  Odysseus then returned to the palace, and Penelope sent for him since she had heard that he could give her news of the fall of Troy, and perhaps even of her lost husband.

  Odysseus told her as much as seemed good for her to know at that moment, and when his tale was ended, Penelope bade the old nurse Euryclea wash his feet for him and find him some decent clothes to wear – for she knew that he spoke the truth and had really met her husband on his wanderings as he brought her a sure token.

  As Euryclea washed his feet with warm water, she came to the scar from the wound which the boar had made on Mount Parnassus when Odysseus was a boy, and she recognized it and knew then who he was.

  She would have cried out with joy, but Odysseus put his hand over her mouth quickly:

  ‘Do you want to cause my death?’ he whispered. ‘If the Suitors know, they will murder me at once. Keep my return a secret, even from the Queen: the time will soon come when justice shall be done.’

  After this he slipped back into the hall and waited quietly. Presently Penelope came in, fair and stately, carrying the great black bow and a quiverful of arrows. At her command twelve axes were set up in a line, and then she said:

  ‘Princes and nobles, I can stand out against you no longer. Therefore whoever among you can string the bow of Odysseus and shoot an arrow through the rings in the axe-heads as he used to do, the same shall be my husband and the lord of rugged Ithaca, and zacynthos and wooded Same.’

  So the Suitors began in turn to handle the great bow; but not one of them could so much as string it. Then they grew angry, and declared that it was some trick of Penelope's, and that the bow could not be strung by any mortal man.

  ‘Let me try,’ said Odysseus, but the Suitors cried out at the impudence of the beggar, and one of them flung a stool at him.

  ‘He shall try if he likes,’ cried Telemachus, and it seemed as if a quarrel were about to begin. So he turned to
Penelope and bade her go to her room with all her maidens; and when she had gone he sent Euryclea to lock them in. While this was happening Philoetius slipped into the courtyard and locked the gates also, that none might come out or in.

  Then, at a word from Telemachus, Eumaeus picked up the bow and carried it to Odysseus. He took it in his hands, turning this way and that lovingly, testing it to see that all was well with it; then suddenly he bent it and slipped the string into place as easily as a minstrel strings his lyre. And beneath his fingers the bow-string sang like a swallow, yet with a deeper, fiercer note telling of war and of the death of men.

  While the Suitors sat back in anger and amazement Odysseus set an arrow to the string, drew, and loosed so surely that it sped through all twelve of the rings without touching one with its brazen barb.

  ‘Telemachus, your guest does you no shame!’ cried Odysseus, and with a bound he was on the high threshold with the arrows ready to his hand and the beggar's rags cast from him. ‘Lo, now is the terrible trial ended at last,’ he continued, ‘and I aim at another mark!’

  Even as he spoke an arrow hummed from the bow, and one of the Suitors fell back dead in his seat, pierced through the throat.

  ‘Mind where you're shooting!’ shouted some of the Suitors, still not recognizing him and thinking that the last shot had been a mistake.

  ‘That will I indeed,’ was the answer, ‘for you have much to answer, you who thought that I would never come back from the land of the Trojans, and therefore wasted my goods and insulted my wife. Now death waits for you, one and all, at the hand of Odysseus the sacker of cities!’