Odysseus in the Serpent Maze

by Robert J. Harris

Of course, in a story, heroes always win.

  But acting on the plan was going to be a great deal more difficult. Large boulders, slippery rocks and prickly bushes had their own way of adding to a tale. By the time Odysseus and Silenus were hidden among the rocks at the edge of the beach, Odysseus’ arms and legs bore the scars of such a telling. His tunic was sopping wet with sweat, and the goat-man was—unbelievably—smellier than ever.

  Still, they had got where they’d hoped to get: far enough away that the sailors couldn’t hear them, close enough that they could watch what was going on.

  It was clear the pirates were getting ready to leave. The newly filled water jars were lined up by the side of the boat. Scattered about the beach were the remains of a cookfire.

  Breakfast, Odysseus thought, and his stomach growled.

  Mentor was no longer tied to the tree but now—bound hand and foot—he was propped against the ship’s black hull.

  A few yards away Helen and Penelope—also tied—sagged against each other. Helen had a gag over her mouth.

  Odysseus wasn’t surprised.

  “Women,” said Silenus by his side. “You didn’t saaaay, but I knew. The nose aaaalways knows. Wine and women,” he began singing in his bleating monotone. “Women and wine—”

  Odysseus elbowed him. “Shut up. Go and do your part of the plan or you can forget about my helping you get off this island.”

  “I’ll make my waaaay there and baaaack without them noticing,” Silenus said. Then, casting one last lingering glance at the bound girls, he began to pick his way through the rocks with a speed and stealth Odysseus envied.

  Just then the captain of the pirates stood, and in his stiff-legged mastiff way, walked over to the boat to check on things.

  “Load the water first. Then the prisoners. Girls first. Then push the ship off,” he commanded loudly in his bark of a voice.

  The pirates jumped to do his bidding. Odysseus was suddenly wondering if the satyr could possibly get to the other side of the beach in time, when a cry went up from one of the sailors.

  “Look! Look!” A sailor with a curling beard was pointing.

  The pirates all looked and, from his hiding place, Odysseus looked as well.

  Silenus had indeed made good his boast. Hopping on to a large boulder, he started making obscene gestures in the sailors’ direction. “Ugly sea dogs. Woof! Woof!” he cried. “Medusaaaa waaaas your mother. Ugly! Ugly! Like aaaa centaur’s hind end!”

  The pirates gaped at him.

  Silenus did a little dance on the rock and stuck out his tongue. “Do the world aaaa favour,” he called. “Behead yourselves. Baaaad men. Baaaaaaad.” Bleating, he swung around bent over, and let loose a noxious blast of wind.

  Boreas himself does not blow that hard, thought Odysseus with a grin.

  The captain drew his sword. “After him, lads,” he yelled. “But don’t kill him. There may be some profit to be had from exhibiting that foul-tongued beast.”

  The pirates all swarmed off in pursuit.

  Silenus had promised he knew every rock and crevice on the island and could easily shake off any pursuit. Odysseus hoped this was true, for he needed plenty of time to free Mentor.

  But at the edge of the beach, the pirate chief had a sudden change of heart.

  “Thyetes,” he called to one of the men, “go back and stay with those prisoners. Lest there be any more such beasties around.”

  Thyetes turned, his long, skinny legs carrying him back quickly to the boat, where he stood right beside Mentor. But instead of keeping an eye on the prisoners, he turned to watch his shipmates disappearing into the trees.

  “Go on!” he cried after them, hoisting his spear. “Hit him once for me! No one says that about my mother!”

  Odysseus hadn’t counted on that. What can I do? he wondered. He looked around frantically. All that was near him was sand and stone and …

  Stone.

  He had a good throwing arm. Best among the boys at the palace in Ithaca. He could hit pretty much anything he aimed at. Bending down, he picked up two very large smooth grey stones.

  Odysseus took advantage of the pirate’s turned back and heaved the first stone. It struck the pirate’s shoulder, and he spun around, looking for the thrower.

  Mentor saw Odysseus first, his eyes widening. Penelope saw him next. Helen was too busy muttering and straining against her bonds to notice anything but her own discomfort.

  Just then the pirate spotted him and raised his mighty spear.

  Twisting around, Mentor struck out with his bound-together legs and kicked the pirate in the knees.

  “Ooof,” Thyetes cried, beginning to fall.

  Odysseus sprinted forward and brought the second stone down on the pirate’s skull. The man dropped like a sack full of dates.

  Plucking the pirate’s dagger from his belt, Odysseus sliced through Mentor’s bonds.

  “I couldn’t believe it when I saw you, galloping over the sand like … like…”

  “Like a hero,” Odysseus said, grinning.

  “I meant like a ghost back unheralded from Hades.”

  “It takes more than a drowning to kill me,” said Odysseus. “Can you stand?” He held out his hand and pulled Mentor up.

  Mentor stood, though he was a bit wobbly from being tied up so long. “I can manage.”

  “We’ve got to get out of here.”

  “What about Helen? What about Penelope?” Mentor whispered, rubbing his chafed wrists.

  “They’re only women,” Odysseus whispered back. “And they’ll slow us down.” The crease between his eyebrows suddenly appeared. “Once we’re safely away and find our own ship, we can come back for them. Not now.”

  “But …” Mentor’s face flushed. “We can’t … You don’t mean …”

  Odysseus seized his arm and pulled him away. “Think, Mentor, think,” he said. “Helen is their big prize. They expect to make a handsome profit out of her. If we leave her, they’ll probably sail on and deliver her to old King Theseus. And honestly—didn’t you hear her before? She wants to go.”

  “Well, I don’t want her to go,” Mentor said. “Her father doesn’t want her to go.”

  “She’s a princess,” Odysseus said, losing his patience and speaking loudly. “They marry old kings all the time.”

  “But …”

  “If we take her now, the pirates will tear this island apart looking for her. None of us will get away then.”

  Penelope had heard the last part of their conversation. “He’s right, you know,” she told Mentor. “Go now. Rescue us later.”

  Mentor was about to argue with her, when he wrinkled his nose. “What’s that awful smell?”

  “Baaaad men aaaall gone,” said Silenus, bounding over the sand towards them and waving his big wooden club. “I said I could do it.”

  “What is that?” asked Mentor.

  “You mean who is that,” Odysseus said. “Silenus, meet Mentor.”

  The two nodded at one another, each cautious in their greeting.

  “He’s got a small boat,” Odysseus explained. “We’ll lie low until the pirates leave and—”

  “Women!” the satyr cried. Bounding past the two boys, he dropped his club, grabbed Helen, slung her over his shoulder, and loped back across the sand towards the shelter of the rocks.

  CHAPTER 11: GOATS AND WATER

  “YOU INFERNAL CREATURE!” ODYSSEUS shouted, waving a fist at the fleeing satyr. “You’ve doomed us all.”

  But Mentor wasted no time in cursing. Instead he was already racing across the sand in hot pursuit of Silenus.

  Penelope held out her bound hands. “If you’re going after Helen, you’d better take me as well. I’m the only one who knows how to cope with her.”

  Odysseus groaned but knew she was right. It was either take Penelope along now, or murder Helen later just to keep her quiet. He slashed through the ropes binding the girl’s wrists.

  “If we empty these water kraters, we can delay
the pirates’ pursuit by boat,” Penelope added. “They won’t dare sail without stocking up again.” She began kicking over the pottery jars until all but one spilled out their precious fluids on to the sand.

  “Hurry,” Odysseus said. “We have to catch Silenus before he and Mentor come to blows.”

  “Wait a minute,” Penelope said, hefting the last heavy jar.

  “Just kick it over and—”

  “You really don’t plan ahead very well, do you?” Penelope said.

  “Of course I plan.” Odysseus could feel heat rising to his cheeks. He was sure they were bright red. “How else do you think we managed to rescue you?”

  “Rescue? Is that what you call it? Throw a rock and then run? And I bet that’s as far ahead as you’d planned.” She made a face. “Boys! Always thinking about heroics and never about what needs to happen day to day.”

  Odysseus began to sputter.

  “If we’re going to be in an open boat, my hero, we’ll need fresh water ourselves.” She staggered under the heavy krater, and at last Odysseus took it from her, settling it on one broad shoulder. Then he started towards the rocks.

  When he looked back to see if Penelope was following, she was just stooping to pick up the dropped club, her long dark braids like thick ropes on either side of her face.

  “Wait for me,” she cried.

  He slowed a bit, but his pride wouldn’t let him wait.

  They came upon the goat-man and Mentor about thirty feet beyond the rocks. The two were rolling about on the ground and cursing one another in steady streams of invective and bleating.

  “Pillager!”

  “Mortal!”

  “Goat from the hind end of Hades!”

  “Boy whose paaaarts have not yet grown!”

  Helen had been thrown to one side, where she lay with her skirts tumbled about her, the gag partially loose. Her dishevelled curls perfectly framed her perfect face. She was crimson with outrage. And—Odysseus thought—very beautiful.

  Penelope ran over to Helen and undid the bonds around her wrists. Then she ripped away the gag.

  “My dress! My hair!” Helen screeched.

  Penelope put her arms around her cousin for comfort. “There, there,” she crooned.

  Mentor now lay exhausted on the sand, but the satyr sat up and rubbed his head, between the little horns.

  “You stupid creature,” Odysseus said, setting down the krater of water. “You’ll have brought the entire pirate crew down on our heads—and for what?”

  The satyr drew himself up with a dignified air—or as dignified as a mussed-up, stinking, tangle-haired, bandylegged goat-man could. “For the saaaake of a beautiful maiden,” he said. “Surely we need a few comforts for the voyaaaage.”

  “Comforts!” screeched Helen. “I’ll comfort you, you immortal dunghill. My brothers will pound you into paste. My father will skin you alive and use your hide for a rug.”

  Odysseus noticed that when Helen got going, she could turn a man to stone with her tongue. It certainly made the satyr wince.

  “I thought she’d be graaaateful,” said Silenus.

  “Now you know why she wasn’t part of my original plan.”

  But Mentor was now hovering over Helen, his hands waving in the air, as if he wanted to comfort her and didn’t dare try. “Are you all right?” he asked. “Princess, are you all right?”

  “Of course I’m not all right,” Helen screeched. “Bad enough to be abducted by brigands. But then to be manhandled by a misshapen goat! Did you plan this as a joke? Did you?”

  Behind her Penelope shrugged and put her hands into the air as if to say, Even I can’t solve this one.

  “Silenus has a boat,” Odysseus said quickly, as much to silence the screeching girl as to inform her. “We’re going to use it to get off the island and escape the pirates.”

  “A boat?” Helen looked over her shoulder at her cousin, who smiled soothingly. “Why didn’t you say so before?” She stood and smoothed down her skirt. “Take me there at once.”

  “Follow Silenus,” Odysseus instructed the girls. “Mentor and I will bring up the rear.” He handed the krater to Silenus, gave the knife to Mentor, and took the club from Penelope. “In case we’re found,” he said to Penelope. “That’s how boys plan ahead.”

  Silenus hoisted the krater on to his shoulder and took off at a run. Hand in hand, Penelope and Helen went after him.

  But Mentor turned, his lips tight together, a sure sign he was furious. “How could you let that brutish thing lay a hand on her?”

  Odysseus sighed. “Whatever happened to ‘thank you’?”

  “He’s a hairy, smelly satyr, Odysseus. Whatever were you thinking?”

  “That hairy, smelly satyr took care of me when I could have died on the beach. That hairy, smelly satyr helped rescue you at great risk to himself. That hairy, smelly satyr has a boat.” Odysseus’ voice had got cold and old.

  “What if he—”

  Now Odysseus began to redden himself. “If you’d come when I told you instead of mooning over that vain little piece of Spartan honey cake, we’d be clear to the other side of the island by now.”

  “Mooning!” Mentor’s face went grey. “I never—”

  Odysseus put his hand over his heart and in a high whisper said, “Oh bea-u-te-ous maid, my heart flutters like the wings of a dove.”

  Mentor took a deep breath. “She can’t help it if the gods have blessed her with surpassing beauty.”

  “I wish they’d blessed her with surpassing wisdom or a surpassing sword,” Odysseus said.

  Mentor pouted. “You don’t know her like I do. She’s been very nice since she found out that I’m a prince.”

  Odysseus said softly, “But you’re not a prince, Mentor.”

  “Do we have to tell her?”

  Odysseus didn’t answer, but with a lift of his chin signalled Mentor to hurry on after the satyr and the girls.

  “Hush,” the satyr said suddenly. His sharp ears had picked up the sound of the pirates. Abruptly he changed direction, and the others followed him into a deep hollow, where they crouched shoulder to shoulder. Pulling a ragged bush down to cover them, Silenus put a finger to his lips.

  Penelope was pressed up against the satyr as a kind of shield for her cousin. She made a valiant effort to hold her breath against his stink.

  Helen whispered, “I’ll never be clean again as long as I live.”

  “Shut up,” Penelope said, managing to sound fierce and comforting at the same time. “Once we’re back in Sparta, you can bathe in asses’ milk every day.”

  Just then they heard the pirates on the path, and they shrank even farther back into the hollow.

  “How can anything that fat vanish into thin air?” asked one.

  “It’s more than I can fathom,” said another.

  “Come, let’s return to the ship. That Spartan spitfire is still worth more than any goat-man,” said a third,

  The first one replied, “She’d better be. If the captain hadn’t had her gagged; I wager he’d have had to throw her over the side or face a mutiny.”

  They laughed.

  “Did you hear what she called Memnax …?”

  Their voices faded as they disappeared back around the bend of the path.

  As soon as they were gone, Odysseus and the others climbed out of the hollow, pulling twigs and brambles from their clothes and hair. But Helen refused to move another step.

  “I’m tired, dirty and unhappy,” she said. “I have been mauled, laughed at and slandered.”

  Exasperated, Odysseus snapped, “Will you shut up and get going, princess? Once those pirates find that you and Penelope are gone too, they’re going to be all over this island. Do you want us to be caught?”

  Helen’s eyes got narrow, and she glared back at him. “You rude, exasperating pig herder. I don’t know how Prince Odysseus puts up with you, but my father will know how to deal with your insolence.”

  Odysseus was in no mood f
or games. “I am Prince Odysseus,” he informed her. “And he”—he turned to glare at Mentor for a moment—“he is my companion, Mentor.”

  Unbelieving, Helen turned to Mentor who nodded and lowered his eyes in shame.

  “Well …” she said, then she flounced off after the satyr.

  Penelope just laughed and shook her head.

  “You knew all along,” Odysseus whispered.

  “I guessed.”

  “And didn’t tell her?”

  Penelope shrugged. “Sometimes even a Spartan has to have some fun.”

  The satyr led them on tiny tracks that switched back again and again until at last they emerged into a small cove where a tiny two-man fishing skiff was sheltering under a stand of willow.

  “There!” he said proudly. “The boat.”

  The hull of the skiff was crudely patched with wood and bark; the spindly pinewood mast looked scarcely strong enough to hold one of Helen’s skirts, much less a linen sail.

  “I’d sooner go to sea in that krater,” Mentor said, pointing to the water jar.

  “Where are the oars?” asked Helen.

  “Is it supposed to haaaave oars?” The satyr’s face collapsed in on itself with disappointment.

  “How will we steer it?” Odysseus asked.

  “I’ve paaaatched up the sail,” said Silenus. “The wind can taaaake us where we will.”

  “Not unless you can tell the gods which way the winds should blow,” Mentor said.

  Penelope cocked her head to one side, considering. “Really, we don’t have any choice.”

  “Of course we have a choice,” Helen said firmly. “We can always go back to the pirates.” She turned from them in a swirl of skirts. “They have a proper boat. And they don’t smell like they just climbed out of a dung pile.”

  “Let her go if she wants,” Odysseus said. “We haven’t the time to argue with her.”

  Penelope turned on him. “For a hero you have an awful lot to learn about courage,” she said. “I wouldn’t abandon you to those cut-throats just to save my own life.”

  “My … own …” Odysseus sputtered and then, realising he had no answer to what Penelope had just said, closed his mouth into a thin, firm slash. He walked over to the little boat and put his shoulder to the hull and began to push it towards the water.