by Joan Lennon
‘Well,’ said Hurple a bit prissily ‘what you know about her will depend on how much you were paying attention when I taught you Greek mythology last year.’
Eo groaned. ‘How was I supposed to know it would ever possibly come in handy?’ he muttered, not quite quietly enough.
‘What do you mean, mythology?’ asked Adom, distracting the ferret from his obvious intention of telling Eo off till round about sundown. ‘Who is she, this Lady? What is she?’
‘Circe.’ Hurple sounded definite. ‘It’s the only possible identification. Daughter of the immortal sun god and an extremely long-lived nymph of the sea, she is, of course, beautiful and also, of course, virtually immortal herself. But more importantly, she is fiercely intelligent and a gifted sorceress, with a vast knowledge of the uses of herbs to kill and to heal – probably acquired on the off chance that it might possibly come in handy.’
Eo made a face.
‘I think you might both benefit from a summary of The Odyssey right about now,’ said the Professor. There and then, he launched into the story of the Greek hero Odysseus. How, after the Trojan War ended, he and his men set sail for home, a journey that should have taken a few months but instead lasted for tenyears. How interfering gods, terrifying monsters, a descent into the Underworld, encounters with mythological beings of horror and wonder, all conspired to keep them from finding the way back. And especially, he told them about the time Odysseus landed on the island of the sorceress Circe, who turned his men into pigs but fell in love with him…
From time to time, one or other of the girls would stop work for a while and listen in, but Hurple didn’t manage to hold their attention for long.
‘We’ve heard it all before,’ they said. ‘From the dog.’
∗
FAQ 226: How could it possibly have taken Odysseus ten years to get from Troy to Ithaca? I know there were storms and contrary currents and a certain amount of divine intervention, but still – ten years to go about 1,000 kilometres?
HURPLE’S REPLY: There have been many attempts to chart Odysseus’ route over the years. (Research that forces you to spend time sailing around in the Mediterranean is bound to be attractive.) Any number of sun-drenched islands have been suggested as the Blessed Isle to which Circe was banished. It is also a possible explanation that Odysseus sailed through some of the thin places between worlds which we have spoken of, and that her home was in another universe. But it is perhaps slightly more possible that he sailed out of the Mediterranean in this world. Eccentric enthusiasts have charted a route, based on their understanding of his ship’s capabilities and the sorts of currents and winds on offer, which would have the Greek trickster arriving in the Hebrides at about the stage Circe enters the story. Worth a thought, anyway.
After a while, Cait and Jay came to a fold in the hillside where the path split. A noisy stream raced past, then dropped off the edge and plunged down to the sea. One part of the path crossed a rough bridge and carried on along the cliff-top, skirting round the central mountain that formed the Island of Women. The other turned inland. It was little more than a track, and quickly disappeared round a curve and out of sight.
Cait seemed uncomfortable. She set Jay down and rubbed her hands together, and then mumbled something Jay couldn’t hear over the plashing of the water.
‘What’s wrong?’ said Jay. ‘Why are we stopping?’
Cait glanced sideways at the track leading inland, and then away again. ‘That leads to the sacred garden,’ she said, only slightly louder than before. ‘Moira told me to take you there, but I’m… afraid.’
Jay waited to see if there was anything more coming, but that was it.
‘It’s not far, is it?’ she asked.
Cait shook her head.
And is there any chance of getting lost on the way?’
She shook her head again. It seemed to make her uneasy even to talk about the place.
‘You know,’ said Jay, ‘I’m feeling a lot better already. There’s no reason I can’t just go the rest of the way by myself.
Cait looked at her with an expression made up partly of guilty embarrassment and partly of relief. Jay knew so well what that felt like.
‘Then that’s what we’ll do,’ she said firmly. ‘You’ve already been really kind to me, Cait, and I know you have more to do than carry me about! I’ll take it from here.’
She set off cheerfully, before the woman could feel obliged to argue them both out of it, calling back, ‘Thank you!’ as she went.
The noise of the water drowned out Cait’s reply. ‘But, Jay – you do know, don’t you? You mustn’t go in the garden…’
The little valley the stream had formed was narrow and felt shut in. A breeze blew down through the bracken, heading for the sea. It was curiously scented, and warmer than you’d expect. Though the path was perfectly gentle to walk along, Jay found her feet were slowing down of their own accord.
She passed a copse of small trees, their roots in the dampness round the stream bed. She passed between two cairns. She passed a strange pattern carved on a rock, and what must have been the skull of a sheep.
‘I wish Cait were still here,’ she muttered to herself, as the world blurred a little again. ‘I better not pass out –’ but then she realized she’d arrived. The hills fell back to reveal a rounded open space and nestled in it, in the full warmth of the sun, was a garden, surrounded by low stone walls, with benches and pergola, terraced and full to bursting with plants and trees and shrubs. The stream welled up in the midst of it all, then ran down under the wall on its way to the sea. The track led up to a stone archway. Normally, Jay would have been interested in the carvings round the lintel and supports, but she was feeling worse by the minute now and just wanted to get in and drink from the spring and sit down.
She didn’t pay attention to the odd resistance of the air as she passed under the archway, putting it down to the bump on the head. But then, once she was inside the walls, the feelings of discomfort faded and the warm scents made her feel calm for the first time this Tide.
She went to the spring, drank deeply and washed the blood off her face and out of her hair. The icy water stung her cuts and scrapes at first and then made her feel numb and clean. Still dripping, she had a wander about the garden.
She pulled an oddly fuzzy leaf off a shrub at random and sniffed it. The effect was as quick as a patch – the pounding in her head eased at once and a feeling of well-being flooded her mind.
‘Whoa!’ she muttered, and let the leaf drop.
Out of the blue, the dog trotted past, his plumy tail waving. He didn’t seem to notice her, which wasn’t surprising perhaps. With so many scents overloading his nose, he was unlikely to pick up hers. At the far end of the garden there was a small hut with a sunny patch of grass in front. The dog headed straight over to it, turned round a few times and then curled contently in the warm sun.
The sight of him made Jay smile.
There were herbs and flowers and shrubs of many sorts clustered together in groups that would have made sense to a gardener, but which seemed completely random to an underwater city dweller. Jay strolled on, touching and sniffing and enjoying.
One bush, however, was by itself. She went over and looked at it for a moment, wondering idly why that should be. She picked a leaf and sniffed it.
It was a strange, compelling scent. She closed her eyes and breathed in again, deeply, filling her lungs. Her hand dropped to her side…
When she opened her eyes again the garden was the same, but everything else had changed. The sky was brassy and, in the heat, crickets and cicadas yelled incessantly. A woman and a little girl of no more than five or six were sitting on a bench in the shade.
And this?’
The little girl wore a short linen tunic and had black hair that tumbled over her shoulders. The young woman sitting beside her was dressed in a full-length robe of white and had the same luxurious raven-coloured hair. A single glance showed that the two were close
relatives, and the child was in the middle of some sort of test. The young woman kept producing leaves and flowers and herbs from a basket for her to identify.
The basket was almost empty.
And this, Circe? It’s the last…’
The child thought for a moment, fingering the leaf she’d been given. Then she answered, a note of triumph in her voice.
‘Love’s Truth!’ she said. ‘Hallucinatory when inhaled; poisonous when ingested. Fast-working. Untraceable. I’m right – aren’t I!’
The woman didn’t speak at once. She sat there, looking solemn, until the child bubbled over.
‘I know I’m right! Medea – don’t tease me!’
The young woman’s face was just blossoming into a smile when the scene changed again…
It was the cool of dawn, before the day’s fierce heat returned, but much more than a day had passed. The girl was a woman now, wearing a married woman’s robes. Her face was ashen in the dim half-light, as she reached out to the shrub, Love’s Truth, and gathered its leaves…
It was dawn still, but a different dawn, in a different, colder climate. The garden was a blackened wreck, fire-ravaged and apparently deserted. Then something moved in the shadow of a ruined wall. It was the same woman grown old, still straight but only by strength of will. The hands that reached out to the only shrub remaining were clawed, but did not shake…
Jay came back to herself with a shudder. The wind from the sea was salty and clean-smelling, and the sun gave off a familiar, northern warmth. Like a dream, what she had seen began fading from her memory almost at once. And like a dream, it left something else behind, a feeling of great swathes of time and tension and passion pent…
She stumbled over to the bench and dropped down on it, trying to think, while the dog twitched and woofled in his sleep.
‘That’s unusual,’ said a voice.
Jay fell off the bench on to the ground and stared in astonishment at the cloaked and hooded figure standing by the wall. She was sure there’d been no one there a second ago.
‘Where did you come from?’ she blurted.
The figure’s laugh was low, and deeper than you’d expect.
‘Isn’t that supposed to be my question? You can get up, by the way – I don’t require a complete obeisance.’
Jay scrambled to her feet. She wasn’t entirely sure what an obeisance was, but the mocking tone was clear enough.
As the figure uncloaked, Jay took a step back. The woman was only a little taller than she was and slightly built, but the luxurious raven-wing hair and the way she moved like a coiled spring were unmistakable. It was the same person Jay had seen in her ‘dream’.
Circe. The Lady.
‘No one comes here,’ the Lady said. ‘A powerful sorceress might pass my warnings perhaps, or a questor of great courage and determination might brave them, to trespass in my sacred garden…’ Her voice ended on a rising note, as if she couldn’t really see Jay in either of those categories.
‘The dog came in,’ said Jay defensively.
‘He belongs,’ said the Lady. ‘You don’t.’ Suddenly her eyes narrowed. ‘You didn’t just trespass, did you… you saw things…’
She moved like a cat, took Jay’s hand and opened it. The crushed remains of the leaf lay on her palm, and the scent rose, dangerously, again. The Lady pulled her over to the stream and scrubbed her hand vigorously in the iciness. A greenish blur bled into the water and was swept away.
‘Is that a poison?’Jay stammered. ‘Will it affect things downstream?’ The garden suddenly felt like a dangerous place to be.
But the Lady seemed unconcerned. ‘Some fish in the strait may have strange dreams tonight, but that won’t be unusual for them.’ She took hold of Jay’s head and moved it so she could examine the wound. ‘This isn’t too bad. Why did they cut your hair off? What were you being punished for?’
‘They? Who? Oww! I like my hair!’
‘This isn’t as bad as it might be.’ Examination complete, the Lady turned Jay abruptly to face her.
‘What did you see?’ The question came sharp and sudden.
‘I… I saw… you,’ Jay stuttered. It didn’t even occur to her to play for time or pretend she didn’t know what the Lady was referring to. ‘It’s hard to remember – like a dream.’
‘The gift of forgetfulness comes so easily to some… Why do I sense so much water from you? You are no Oceanid, like my mother, and yet the sea is all around you… The sea, which is always changing, is always the same…’
There was a groan from ground level. ‘Lord of All Rubbish – can a dog not fall asleep for two seconds around here without you going mystical?! It’s no wonder you can’t keep a man, talking tosh like that!’
Jay couldn’t help giggling. The dog looked a bit surprised to see her there.
The Lady looked down at him, an unreadable expression on her face.
‘You’re a man,’ she said quietly. ‘You’re still here.’
The dog snorted. ‘It’s an island, darling. You think I want to swim Corrievrechan just to get away from you?’ He looked at her, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth, one ear inside out – the picture of a pooch… until you came to the eyes.
‘Odysseus,’ whispered the Lady. There was such honey in her voice, as if there were no one else there.
Jay squirmed uncomfortably.
Then the dog sneezed, knocking his ear the right way out again, and the moment passed.
‘Where did she come from?’ he asked. ‘And when did you start bringing the new girls here?’
‘I didn’t,’ said the Lady. ‘She brought herself.’
‘That’s unusual,’ said the dog, unconsciously repeating his mistress’s words. ‘She doesn’t smell like a sorceress. Not that it’s easy to tell round here,’ and he sneezed again.
Circe walked round Jay slowly, staring at her intently. ‘No, you’re right. Not a sorceress… or a heroine…’ When she finished her circuit, the expression on her face hardened. She reached up and began to plait and twist together four strands of her midnight hair.
‘I’ll tell you what I sense here. I sense arrogance. Ignorance. I sense another world…’
Suddenly, Jay found she couldn’t move, not even to blink, barely to breathe. The Lady looked into her eyes, on into her mind, and there was nothing she could do to stop her.
There was so much about her own world that she never thought about, all the common, everyday images. Wallpaper stuff, really – so much part of the landscape of her mind that she never considered it consciously herself. When Adom and Eo and Hurple had arrived on her doorstep, they had seemed amazed and impressed. At least that was what she assumed they’d been feeling. Now she was seeing what Circe saw, without any polite obfuscation. The high-tech pods and workplaces suddenly appeared cramped to her and restrictive, like too-small cages. The calculated ballet of traffic between sectors and levels seemed artificial and controlled, like the herded scuttling of lab rats in a maze. And everywhere, there were the Guardians. There were so many, hung round with sprayers and needlers and nets. Had she realized how many there were?
‘Cramped, controlled, drugged, without even the awareness you are not free… And that is why you think you are superior?’ The Lady sounded mildly incredulous. ‘Perhaps on a more personal level…’
She looked deeper, and Jay had no choice but to look as well. She wouldn’t have said it out loud, but she knew what she thought of herself. She thought she was special. That she would do great things someday. It was only a matter of time. But Circe wasn’t seeing what Jay thought. She was seeing what she did…
‘But that’s not it!’ Jay choked. ‘I’m not just – and I don’t think I’m superior! That’s…’ true, she thought to herself as her voice died away. I do! Right from the beginning… there was Adom – he outclassed me, but he was shy and awkward and he didn’t know one end of a computer from the other, so I told myself I was better. And Eo – he’s a shape-shifter, for crying out lo
ud, but I convinced myself he was just a child. And Hurple, who knows more than I could ever learn in my whole life – well, he’s just an animal, isn’t he? And the people we’ve met, in each Tide… I’m the lowest you can get in my world, but because of all the technology I was born into, that I never made and don’t even understand, I thought I was better than all of them…
She felt ashamed.
‘In the world I come from it’s the same, of course,’ said the Lady. ‘Except that it’s being born into money there, or family, or being male, that makes you superior. I thought you might be unusual, but after all, it’s just the old story – the safe way. No need to find out what you could do if you had to – never push hard enough to find out – ride on someone else’s achievements. I understand.’
‘But that’s not it… you just met me. You don’t know me!’ Jay cried.
The Lady shrugged. ‘It’s not important,’ she said. ‘I just wondered, that’s all. So, what is it you’ve come to ask me for?’
Jay felt as if she’d been kicked in the stomach.
She didn’t see the sly smile on the Lady’s face.
Back at the cave, the boys were still trying to come to grips with what the Professor was saying.
Adom said, ‘So are you trying to tell us that we are trapped on the island of the witch-sorceress Circe as described in the pagan writings of the poet Homer?’
The ferret nodded. ‘Fabulous, isn’t it!’
But Eo was worrying at another bit of the tale. He said, ‘So are you trying to tell us that Circe, the Lady right, named her dog after her boyfriend!?’
‘What makes you think she named him after anyone?’ Hurple ignored their stunned expressions. ‘Odysseus really loved her, you know – there’s more than one version of that story. They don’t all end the same way.’
‘She bewitched him?!’ gasped Adom.