“Very well,” said Zeus. “It shall be as you advise.”
Thereupon he dispatched Hermes, the messenger god, to Ogygia. Hermes found Calypso on the beach singing a wild sea song, imitating now the voice of the wind, now the lisping, scraping sound of waves on a shallow shore, weaving in the cry of heron and gull and osprey, tide suck and drowned moons. Now, Hermes had invented pipe and lyre, and loved music. When he heard Calypso singing her wild sea song, he stood upon the bright air, ankle wings whirring, entranced. He hovered there, listening to her sing. Dolphins were drawn by her voice. They stood in the surf and danced on their tails.
She finished her song. Hermes landed lightly beside her.
“A beautiful song,” he said.
“A sad song.”
“All beautiful songs are sad.”
“Yes …”
“Why is that?”
“They are love songs. Women love men, and they go away. This is very sad.”
“You know why I have come then?”
“Of course. What else would bring you here? The Olympians have looked down and seen me happy for a little while, and they have decreed that this must not be. They have sent you to take my love away.”
“I am sorry, cousin. But it is fated that he find his way home.”
“Fate … destiny … what are they but fancy words for the brutal decrees of Zeus. He cannot abide that goddesses should mate with mortal men. He is jealous, and that is the whole truth of it. He wants us all for himself. Don’t deny it. When Eos, Goddess of Dawn, chose Orion for her lover, Zeus had his daughter, Artemis, slay him with her arrows. When Demeter, harvest wife, met Jasion in the plowed fields, Zeus himself flung his bolt, crippling him. It is always the same. He allowed Ulysses to be shipwrecked time and again. When I found him he was riding the timbers of his lost ship and was about to drown. So I took him here with me, cherished him, and offered to make him immortal. And now Zeus suddenly remembers, after twenty years, that he must go home immediately, because it is ordained.”
“You can’t fight Zeus,” said Hermes gently. “Why try?”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Permit Ulysses to make himself a raft. See that he has provisions. Then let him depart.”
“So be it”
“Do not despair, sweet cousin. You are too beautiful for sorrow. There will be other storms, other shipwrecks, other sailors.”
“Never another like him.”
“Who knows?”
He kissed her on the cheek and flew away.
Ino’s Veil
IN HER GENEROUS WAY, Calypso went beyond what the gods had ordered and provided Ulysses not with a raft but with a beautiful tight little vessel, sturdy enough for a long voyage, and small enough for one man to sail.
But he would have done just as well with a raft, for his bad luck held. He was seventeen days out of Ogygia, scudding along happily, when Poseidon, on his way back from Africa, happened to notice the little ship.
The sea god scowled and said:
“Can that be Ulysses? I thought I had drowned him long ago. One of my meddlesome relatives up there must be shielding him, and I have a good notion who. Well, I’ll give my owlish niece a little work to do.”
His scowl deepened, darkening the sun. He shook a storm out of his beard. The winds leaped, the water boiled. Ulysses felt the tiller being torn out of his hand. The boat spun like a chip. The sail ripped, the mast cracked, and Ulysses realized that his old enemy had found him again.
He clung to the splintered mast. Great waves broke over his head, and he swallowed the bitter water. He came up, gasping. The deck broke beneath him.
“Why am I fighting?” he thought “Why don’t I let myself drown?”
But he kept fighting by instinct. He pulled himself up onto a broken plank and clung there. Each boiling whitecap crested over him, and he was breathing more water than air. His arms grew too weak to hold the plank, and he knew that the next wave must surely take him under.
However, there was a Nereid near, named Ino, who hated Poseidon for an injury he had done her long before, and now she resolved to balk his vengeance. She swam to Ulysses’ timber and climbed on.
He was snorting and gasping and coughing. Then he saw that he was sharing his plank with a green-haired woman wearing a green veil.
“Welcome, beautiful Nereid,” he said. “Are you she who serves Poseidon, ushering drowned men to those caverns beneath the sea where the white bones roll?”
“No, unhappy man,” she said. “I am Ino … and I am no servant of the windy widowmaker. I would like to do him an injury by helping you. Take this veil. It cannot sink even in the stormiest sea. Strip off your garments, wrap yourself in the veil, and swim toward those mountains. If you are bold and understand that you cannot drown, then you will be able to swim to the coast where you will be safe. After you land, fling the veil back into the sea, and it will find its way to me.” She unwound the green veil from her body and gave it to him. Then she dived into the sea. “Can I believe her?” thought Ulysses. “Perhaps it’s just a trick to make me leave the pitiful safety of this timber. Oh, well, if I must drown, let me do it boldly.”
He pulled off his wet clothes and wrapped himself in the green veil and plunged into the sea.
It was very strange. When he had been on the raft, the water had seemed death-cold, heavy as iron, but now it seemed warm as a bath, and marvelously buoyant. He had been unable to knot the veil, but it clung closely to his body. When he began to swim he found himself slipping through the water like a fish.
“Forgive my suspicions, fair Ino,” he cried. Thank you … thank you …”
For two days he swam, protected by Ino’s veil, and on the morning of the third day he reached the coast of Phaeacia. But he could not find a place to come ashore. For it was a rocky coast, and the water swirled savagely among jagged boulders. So he was in great trouble again. While the veil could keep him from drowning, it could not prevent him from being broken against the rocks.
The current caught him and swept him in. With a mighty effort he grasped the first rock with both hands and clung there, groaning, as the rushing water tried to sweep him on. But he clung to the rock like a sea polyp, and the wave passed. Then the powerful back-tow caught him and pulled him off the rock and out to sea. He had gained nothing. His arms and chest were bleeding where great patches of skin had been scraped off against the rock.
He realized that the only thing he could do was try to swim along the coast until he found an open beach. So he swam and he swam. The veil held him up, but he was dizzy from loss of blood. Nor had he eaten for two days. Finally, to his great joy, he saw a break in the reef. He swam toward it and saw that it was the mouth of a river. Exerting his last strength, he swam into the river, struggled against the current, swimming past the shore where the river flowed among trees. Then he had no more strength. He was exhausted.
He staggered ashore, unwrapped the veil from his body, and cast it upon the river so that it would be borne back to Ino. When he tried to enter the wood, he could not take another step. He collapsed among the reeds.
Nausicaa
IN THOSE DAYS, GIRLS did not find their own husbands, especially princesses. Their marriages were arranged by their parents, and it all seemed to work out as well as any other way. But Nausicaa, sixteen-year-old daughter of the King and Queen of Phaeacia, was hard to please, and had been turning down suitors for two years now. Her father, Alcinous, and her mother, Arete, were becoming impatient. There were several hot-tempered kings and princes who had made offers—for Nausicaa was very lovely—and Alcinous knew that if he kept turning them down he might find himself fighting several wars at once. He was a fine warrior and enjoyed leading his great fleet into battle. Still, he preferred his wars one at a time.
He told the queen that Nausicaa would have to be forced to choose.
“I was very difficult to please, too,” said Arete. “But I think you’ll admit I married well. Perhaps she, too,
knows in her heart that if she bides her time the gods will send a mighty man to be her husband.”
The king smiled. Arete always knew the right thing to say to him. So the discussion ended for that day. Nevertheless, the queen knew that her husband was right, and that the girl would have to choose.
That night Nausicaa was visited by a dream. It seemed to her that the goddess Athene stood over her bed, tall and gray-eyed, and spoke to her, saying, “How can you have a wedding when all your clothes are dirty? Take them to the river tomorrow and wash them.”
The goddess faded slowly until all that was left was the picture on her shield—a snake-haired girl. And it seemed that the snakes writhed and hissed and tried to crawl off the shield to get at the dreamer. Nausicaa awoke, moaning. But she was a brave girl and went right back to sleep and tried to dream the same dream again, so that she could learn more about the wedding. But the goddess did not return.
The next morning she went to her mother and told her of the dream.
“I don’t understand it,” she said. “What wedding?”
“Yours, perhaps,” said Arete.
“Mine? With whom?”
“The gods speak in riddles. You know that. Especially when they visit us in dreams. So you must do the one clear thing she told you. Take your serving girls to the river and wash your clothes. Perhaps, if you do that, the meaning will show itself.”
Thereupon Nausicaa told her serving girls to gather all the laundry in the castle, and pile it in the mule cart. She also took food, a goatskin bottle of wine, and a golden flask of oil so that they could bathe in the river. Then they set off in the red cart, and the harness bells jingled as the mules trotted down the steep streets toward the river.
It was a sparkling morning. Nausicaa felt very happy as she drove the mules. They drove past the city walls, down the hill, and along a road that ran through a wood until they came to the river.
They dumped the clothes in the water and stamped on them, dancing and trampling and treading them clean. Then they dragged the clothes out, and pounded them on flat stones, afterwards spreading them to dry in the hot sun.
They then flung off their garments and swam in the river, scrubbing each other and anointing themselves with oil.
“Well, you look clean enough to get married,” cried Nausicaa. “But it’s easier to wash than to wed, isn’t it, girls?”
The maidens giggled wildly, and Nausicaa shouted with laughter. She was so drunk with sun and water that she felt she could run up the mountain and dance all day and night. It was impossible to sit still. She seized a leather ball from the cart and flung it to one of her maids, who caught it and threw it back. Then the others joined in, and the girls frisked on the riverbank, tossing the ball back and forth.
Ulysses awoke from a deep sleep. He was still dazed and could barely remember how he had gotten among the reeds. He peered out, saw the girls playing, and then shrank back, for he did not wish to be seen as he was, naked and bruised.
But Nausicaa threw the ball so hard that it sailed over the heads of the girls and fell near the clump of reeds where Ulysses was hiding. A girl ran to pick it up, then shrank back, screaming.
“A man!” she cried. “A man—all bloody and muddy.”
Ulysses reached out, plucked a spray of leaves from a fallen olive branch, and came out of the reeds.
The girls saw a naked man holding a club. His shoulders were bleeding, his legs muddy, and his hair crusted with salt. They fled, screaming. But Nausicaa stood where she was and waited for him.
“Is this why Athene sent me here?” she thought “Is this my husband, come out of the river? Is this what I am to take after all the beautiful young men I have refused? Come back, you silly geese,” she shouted to the girls. “Haven’t you ever seen a man before?”
Then she turned to Ulysses, who had fallen to his knees before her.
“Speak, grimy stranger,” she said. “Who are you, and what do you want?”
“Do not set your dogs upon me,” said Ulysses. “I did not mean to surprise you in your glade.”
“What talk is this? Are you out of your head?”
“Forgive me, but I know the fate of Actaeon, who came upon you in the wood. You turned him into a stag and had your hounds tear him to pieces.”
“Whom do you take me for?”
“Why, you are Artemis, of course, Goddess of the Chase, maiden of the silver bow. I have heard poets praise your beauty, and I know you by your white arms. By your hair, and eyes, and the way you run—like light over water.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but I am not Artemis. I am Nausicaa. My father is king of this island. And I ask again—who are you?”
“An unlucky man.”
“Where do you come from?”
“Strange places, princess. I am a sailor, hunted by a god who sends storms against me, wrecks my ships, kills my men. I come now from Ogygia, where I have been held captive by the Titaness, Calypso, who bound me with her spells. But as I was sailing away, a storm leaped out of the blue sky, smashing my boat. And I have been swimming in the sea for more than two days. I was dashed against the rocks of your coast but managed to swim around it till I found this river. When I came ashore here, I had no strength to go farther and fell where you found me.”
“I suppose no one would look his best after spending two days in the sea and being beaten against rocks. You tell a good story, I’ll say that for you. Why don’t you bathe in the river now and try to make yourself look human again. We can give you oil for anointing, and clean garments belonging to my brother. Then you can follow me to the castle and tell your story there.”
“Thank you, sweet princess,” said Ulysses.
He took the flask of oil and went into the river and bathed and anointed himself. When he came out, he found clean garments waiting. The serving girls helped him dress and combed out his tangled hair.
“Well,” said Nausicaa, “you look much improved. I can believe you’re some kind of chieftain now. Are you married?”
“Yes.”
“Of course. You would have to be, at your age.”
“I have not seen my wife for twenty years. She considers herself a widow.”
“Has she remarried?”
“Perhaps. I do not know. Last I heard, she was being besieged by suitors.”
“I am besieged by suitors, too, but haven’t found any I like well enough to marry.”
As they spoke at the bank of the river, the serving girls had been piling the laundry into the mule cart
“But I am thoughtless, keeping you here,” said Nausicaa. “You need food and rest. You must come to the castle and finish your story there.”
“The sight of your beauty is food and drink to me. And the sound of your voice makes me forget my weariness.”
She laughed. “Are you courting me, stranger?”
“I am a homeless wanderer. I cannot court a princess. But I can praise her beauty.”
“Come along to the castle. I want to introduce you to my father and mother. They are kind to strangers, very partial to brave men, and love to hear stories. And I want to hear more about you, too.”
Now, that day, as it happened, King Alcinous had consulted an oracle, who prophesied, saying:
“I see danger. I see a mountain blocking your harbor, destroying your commerce. I sense the cold wrath of the god of the sea.”
“But the earth-shaker has always favored us,” said the king. “He has showered blessings upon this island. Our fleets roam far, return laden. Why should he be angered now?”
“I do not know. It is not clear, it is not clear. But I say to you, O King, beware of strangers, shipwrecks, storytellers. Believe no tale, make no loan, suffer no harm.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I. But there is no need to understand, only to obey.”
The oracle departed, leaving the king very thoughtful.
Just at this time, Nausicaa was leading Ulysses into the courtyard of the
castle. She bade her maids take him to the guest house.
“Wait till I send for you,” she said. “Food will be brought, and wine.”
She raced to her mother’s chamber.
“Oh, Mother, Mother,” she cried. “I’m so glad I obeyed the dream and went to the river to wash our clothes. What do you think I found there? A man, hiding in the reeds, naked and wounded. I soon set him right and brought him here. Such an interesting man.”
“Brought him here? Here to the castle? Paraded a naked beggar through the streets for the whole town to see? My dear child, haven’t you given them enough to gossip about?”
“He’s no beggar, Mother. He’s a sailor or a pirate or something. Such stories he tells. Listen, he landed on an island once where men eat flowers that make them fall asleep and forget who they are. So they sleep all day and pick flowers all night and are very happy. This man’s crew went ashore and ate the flowers and forgot who they were and didn’t want to go back to the ship, just sleep. But he dragged them back anyway. I’d like to try those flowers, wouldn’t you?”
“Who is this man? What’s his name?”
“They came to another island where the sun and moon chase each other around the sky, and day flashes on like a lamp when you pass your hand over it. But you know who lived there? Giant cannibals, tall as trees, and they killed most of his men and cooked them in a big pot and broke two of his ships—and he had only one left.”
“I asked you his name.”
“I don’t know. He didn’t tell me. It’s a secret or something.”
“Do you believe everything he tells you?”
“Oh, yes. He’s not exactly handsome, but very strong-looking, you know. Too old though, much too old. And married, of course. But I don’t think he gets along with his wife. You can see he has suffered. You can see by his eyes.”
“Where is he now?”
“In the guest house. Don’t you think we should have a banquet for him tonight? He’s a distinguished visitor, isn’t he—all those things he did?”
“We don’t quite know what he is, do we, dear? I think I had better meet him myself first. Your father’s in a funny mood. Met with the oracle today, and something went wrong, I think.”
The Adventures of Ulysses Page 9