This was what he told me. I thanked the seer and asked him another question I had in my heart. “Tell me this: there sits the shade of my mother. How can I make her recognize me?”
“Let her drink of the blood,” the soothsayer replied, “and she will break her silence.”
Then I let my mother approach, and she drank. Suddenly she knew me, gazed at me with wet eyes, and said: “Dear son, how could you, who are still alive, enter this place of death? Did not Ocean us and the other rivers keep you back? Have you been wandering about since the fall of Troy? Can you not return to Ithaca?” When I had answered her questions, I asked her how she had died, for she had been still alive when I left for Troy. And then, my heart beating with fear, I inquired about the others I had left behind. “Your wife,” she told me, “is unshakably faithful and weeps for you day and night. Your son Telemachus sees to your property, and no one has taken over your scepter. Your father Laertes leads a peasant’s life in the country and never comes into the city any more. He does not live in a royal chamber or sleep on a soft couch. Like a slave he lies in the ashes beside the hearth, throughout the winter, and his clothing is of the poorest sort. In summer he sleeps on a heap of fallen leaves under the open sky. And all this he does for grief at your fate. I myself died of sorrow for you, dear son. It was not sickness that took me from the earth.”
As she spoke I trembled with yearning. But when I tried to take her in my arms, she dissolved like the shapes in our dreams. And now other shades came, many of them women famed on earth. They all drank of the blood of the victims we had slaughtered and told me their story. When they had vanished, I saw a sight that made my heart turn over. I saw the soul of great Agamemnon! Slowly he moved toward the pit and drank of the blood. Then he looked up, recognized me, and began to weep. In vain he reached for me with his strengthless hands. Then he answered my eager questions. “Noble Odysseus,” he said, “perhaps you think that the sea-god destroyed me, or that enemies got the better of me while I was drinking at a feast. But this is not so. Just as one slays an ox at the stall, so Clytaemnestra and her lover Aegisthus killed me in the bath, killed me who had journeyed toward home so full of longing for my wife and children! That is why I now counsel you, Odysseus, not to trust your wife too much. Do not let affection lead you to tell her all your secrets! But I forget! Penelope is virtuous and wise. And the child she nursed when you and I left for Greece, the child Telemachus, is now a youth who will receive his father full of filial love. Clytaemnestra did not even let me feast my eyes on my son Orestes before she murdered me. In any case, I advise you to land secretly on the coast of Ithaca, for no woman can be wholly trusted.”
With these somber words the shade of Agamemnon turned and vanished. After him came the shades of Achilles and his friends Patroclus and Antilochus and Ajax the Great. Achilles was the first to drink. He recognized me in amazement. I told him why I had come. But when I said to him that he, the most renowned of all the Argives, must be happy even in Hades, as the greatest among the dead, he answered mournfully: “Do not try to find comforting words about death, Odysseus! Rather than be lord over all the throngs of the dead, I should choose to till the fields like a serf who has no property and no heritage.” Then he begged me to tell him about the feats of his son Neoptolemus, and when he had heard of his courage and glorious deeds, he grew more content. Finally he strode from me with mighty steps and was lost from sight.
All the other souls who had drunk of the blood were willing to speak to me. Only Ajax, whom I had once conquered in the fight for the weapons of Achilles and who had taken his life because of this, stood to one side and nursed his grudge. I addressed him with gentle words: “Son of Telamon, can you not forget your anger even in death, your anger about the weapons of Achilles which the gods gave to the Argives only to put a curse on them? For because of them we lost you who were like a tower in battle. Not we were guilty of your death! It was Fate. Then curb your wrath, noble prince, and speak!” The shade did not reply, but turned away into the darkness.
And now I saw the shades of heroes long dead: of Minos, who judges the dead; of the great hunter Orion, who stood, club in hand, driving away the phantoms of lynxes and lions; of Tityus, on whose liver two vultures fed, in punishment for his crime; Tantalus, who thirsted amid waters rising to his chin. Whenever he leaned to drink they receded, and the trees laden with fruit, which grew at his side, whipped upward with the wind whenever he reached for them; his hand clutched the empty air. I also saw Sisyphus straining to roll a huge boulder up a mountain. He pressed his whole weight against it and worked with his arms and legs, but whenever he got near the top the stone rolled down, and he had to begin his labors all over again. The sweat poured from his limbs, and dust rose in clouds about his head. Near him was Heracles, that is, the shade of Heracles, for he himself dwells on Olympus, and his wife is the goddess of eternal youth. But his shade was dark as night and fitted an arrow to the bow, ready to launch it at an enemy. A gold sword strap, decorated with the shapes of many different animals, hung over his shoulder.
He too disappeared, and throngs of other shades hovered around me. I should have liked to see Theseus and his friend Pirithous. But suddenly those shadowy hosts filled me with terror, as if the Medusa had turned her dreadful head to look at me. Quickly I left with my companions and went back to the shore of Oceanus. And first I fulfilled my promise to Elpenor; we sailed back to Circe’s island.
ODYSSEUS CONTINUES HIS TALE
THE SIRENS. SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS. THRINACIA AND THE HERDS OF THE SUN-GOD. SHIPWRECK. ODYSSEUS AND CALYPSO
When we had burned the body of our comrade and buried his bones in the earth of Aeaea, we heaped a burial mound for him and set a pillar on it. Circe received us with warm hospitality and provided us with ample stores for our further journey.
The first adventure—of which we had been forewarned by Circe—awaited us on the island of the Sirens. These are nymphs who sing so sweetly that all listen spellbound to their song. They stand on a green shore and lift their lovely voices whenever a ship comes by. But he who is beguiled and lands is destroyed, for the coast of their island is strewn with bleaching bones. When we approached the realm of the Sirens, the fair wind which had floated us gently on suddenly stopped, and the sea lay smooth as a mirror. My comrades lowered the sails, folded them, laid them down in the ship, and began to row. But I thought of Circe’s words. “When you are close to the island of the Sirens,” she had told me, “stop up the ears of your companions with wax, so that they can hear nothing. But if you yourself desire to hear the song, have them fetter your hands and feet and bind you to the mast. The more you implore them to let you go, the more they shall tighten the ropes.”
This I remembered. I cut a slab of wax, kneaded it until it was soft, and with it stopped up the ears of my men. They, in turn, tied me to the mast, plied their oars, and calmly rowed through the waters. When the Sirens saw the ship, they came to the edge of the shore in the shape of beautiful girls and raised their clear-toned song:
Come, famed Odysseus, glory of all Greece,
Turn from your course and hearken to our song!
Ere now has never dusky ship sailed by
But that its helmsman paused at our sweet voice,
Took his full joy of it, and went his way
Made wiser by the tale of what he heard.
For we know all the toils that in wide Troy
Trojan and Argive by gods’ will endured,
And in our wisdom know all things besides
That come to pass upon the fruitful earth.
As I listened, my heart almost burst with the yearning to go to them. I motioned with my head that I wished to be loosed from the mast, but my comrades, who could hear nothing, rowed the faster, and two of them, Eurylochus and Perimedes, came and tightened the cords as I had bidden them. Not until we were safely out of reach of the Siren song did my companions take the wax out of their ears and cut my bonds. I thanked them for remaining steadfast in ignori
ng my entreaties.
After a short while I sighted a fountain of spray and heard the roar of surf. This was Charybdis, a whirlpool which three times a day shot out from under a cliff and in the backwash sucked down any ship which happened to pass at that moment. My men dropped their oars in horror, and the tide threatened to carry them away. The ship did not move. Then I jumped from my seat and went from man to man, speaking words of courage. “My friends,” I said, “we are old hands at meeting danger! Come what may, nothing worse can befall us than what happened in the cave of the Cyclops; but even there I found a way out. Now too you must do as I say. Grip your oars”—for they had caught them up from the sea—“and make straight for the surf. I have faith that Zeus will help us. You, our helmsman, shall guide the ship as well as you can. Keep to the rocks, so that we will not be caught in the whirlpool.” In this way I warned my friends of Charybdis, but I said nothing of Scylla, the monster Circe had described to me, for I feared they would again drop their oars and lose them. And in my concern I forgot another piece of advice Circe had given me. She had told me not to gird on armor for the fight with this monster. I, however, put on my cuirass, took two spears, went to the bow, and prepared to meet Scylla. But though my eyes ached with peering about I could not discover her, and I waited in deadly fear as the ship came closer and closer to the narrows. This is how Circe had described Scylla to me: “She is no mortal foe, but rather immortal disaster. Courage cannot prevail against her. The only possibility of escape lies in flight. Her house is opposite Charybdis: a steep rock whose jagged point is always hidden in gray cloud. In the middle of this rock is a cave as black as night. Here Scylla lives and proclaims her presence by a loud barking and whining which seems like that of a young dog. This monster has twelve shapeless feet and six snaky necks. At the end of each is a hideous head with three rows of gnashing teeth, ready to crush her prey. Half of her is concealed in her cave, but her heads she puts out of the cleft and fishes for seals, dolphins, and other large creatures of the sea. Never has a ship passed her without losing some of its crew. Usually she snatches a man with each pair of her toothy jaws before anyone is even aware of her nearness.”
This was the picture I saw in my mind’s eye. And now the ship had come close to Charybdis, which was sucking in the sea with greedy mouth and spewing it out again. The water seethed like a kettle over the fire, and white spray filled the air. But when the tide was drawn in the sea looked turbid, the rock seemed to thud with thunder, and one could look far down into a cavern of black slime. While we stared spellbound and our helmsman steered left and away from the whirlpool, we inadvertently came too near Scylla. At one gulp she snapped up six of my comrades. I saw them struggling in the air between her teeth. One moment they moved their arms and legs convulsively and cried to me for help, the next they were ground to pulp. I have suffered much on my wanderings, but never have I seen a more pitiful sight.
And now we were safely through the narrows between Charybdis and Scylla, and before us lay Thrinacia, shining in the sun. The roar of the surf died away, and we heard the lowing of the sacred cattle of the sun-god and the bleating of his sheep. Misfortune had freshened my memory, and I immediately told my companions that both Tiresias and Circe had bidden me flee the island of Helios. This grieved and annoyed my companions beyond measure, and Eurylochus said angrily: “Odysseus, you are a cruel man. You are made of iron and inflexible. Do you seriously intend to deprive us of the rest we need so much? Are you going to prevent us from setting foot on this island and refreshing ourselves with food and drink? Must we ride on over the black sea through the long night? Suppose a tempest overtakes us in the darkness! Let us at least anchor near this friendly shore until the sun rises again.”
When I heard him rebelling against my counsel, I knew very well that a hostile god was planning our destruction. All I said was: “Eurylochus, it is not difficult for you to persuade me, for I am one man against many. I shall yield to you. But first you must all swear a sacred oath not to slaughter a single one of the sun-god’s animals, no matter how many herds of cattle or sheep you may see. Let us be content with the provisions Circe has given us in such abundance.” They were all willing enough to take the oath. We entered the bay from which the fresh water poured into the salt, set foot on land, and prepared our meal. When we had eaten, we began to lament our friends whom Scylla had devoured, but we were so tired that we fell asleep in the midst of weeping.
Perhaps two thirds of the night had gone by, when Zeus sent a roaring gale. At dawn we rowed our ship into a safe grotto. Again I warned my friends not to touch the sun-god’s creatures, for I realized that the stormy weather would force us to remain on the island longer than we had expected. It turned out to be a solid month. The south wind alternated with storms from the east, and both were against us. As long as the food and the wine Circe had given us lasted, there was no trouble. But when we had eaten up all we had and began to feel hungry, my comrades went fishing and hunting birds, while I walked along the shore, hoping to meet a god or a mortal to help us in our distress. When I was well away from the rest, I washed my hands in the sea, so that I could pray with clean palms outstretched, and begged the immortals to rescue us. But all they did was to make me drowsy. I fell asleep.
While I was gone, Eurylochus rose and gave dangerous counsel to my companions. “Listen to me!” he said. “We are in great need. Death is terrible in any form, but the worst death is by starving. Why should we hesitate to sacrifice the finest of the cattle to the gods and satisfy our hunger on the remaining meat? As soon as we reach Ithaca, we can propitiate Helios by building him a splendid temple and filling it with precious gifts. But should he be so angry that he sends a tempest and sinks our ship on the way, well, I for my part would rather die instantly by drowning than drag out my life famishing slowly on this island.”
My hungry comrades were well-pleased with these words. They immediately singled out the best cattle from the herds of the sun-god, prayed to the gods, slaughtered the beasts, wrapped the entrails and haunches in fat, and offered them up to the immortals. Since they had no wine left, they sprinkled them with water from a spring. The rest of the meat they put on spits. They were just about to eat when I awoke and smelled the odor of roasting from far-off. I raised my hands to heaven. “O father Zeus!” I cried. “You made me drowsy to destroy me! What crime have my men committed while I slept?”
In the meantime the sun-god had already been told what had occurred in his sanctuary. Angrily he summoned the immortals and complained of the wrong done to him. He threatened to drive the sun chariot down to the underworld to shine among the dead and never again light the earth if the evildoers were not sternly punished. Zeus rose from his seat in majesty. “Do not stop shining for gods and men, Helios,” he said. “I myself shall shatter the ship of those robbers with a thunderbolt and sink it to the bottom of the sea.” These words of Zeus were reported to me by Calypso who had heard them from Hermes, the messenger of the gods.
When I joined my friends I reproved them bitterly. But it was too late. The cattle had been slaughtered, and frightful signs made it clear that a crime had been committed: the hides of the bullocks crept about as if they were alive; the meat on the spits bellowed. But my hungry men paid no attention to these evil portents. For six days they feasted. On the seventh, when the storm seemed past, we boarded our ship and steered for the sea. When we were out of sight of land, Zeus massed a roof of blue-black clouds right over our heads, and the water grew darker and darker. Suddenly a furious gale swept on us from the west. The mast broke and fell, sweeping the sails with it. The whole weight landed on our helmsman and cracked his skull. Like a diver he plunged headlong into the waves, and the waters swallowed his body. And now lightning struck the ship and filled the air with sulphurous fumes. My companions fell from the deck and struggled in the surf like sea-crows, until they all sank. I was the only one left on the ship, and I paced the deck until the sides broke away from the keel. But I had my wits about me, seiz
ed the backstay made of oxhide, and lashed the mast to the keel with it. On this raft I sat, called on the gods, and let the sea toss me hither and thither.
At last the storm abated, and the west wind died down. But the south wind began to blow in its stead and filled me with new terror, for it threatened to drive me back to Scylla and Charybdis. And this really happened! At dawn I saw Scylla’s pointed cliff dwelling and the swirling waters of Charybdis. The whirlpool swept my mast into the abyss. I myself seized the bough of a fig tree growing on the rock, clung to it, and hung in the air like a bat until my mast and keel were spewed up again. The instant I saw them, I let myself drop on my raft and used my hands to row frantically away from those angry waters. But I should have been lost, had not Zeus floated me past Scylla and guided me safely out of those narrows.
For nine days I was tossed about on the sea. On the tenth night the gods had pity on me and cast me ashore on the island of Ogygia. There Calypso gave me food and drink and nursed me back to health. But this, my last adventure, I have already told you, O king.
ODYSSEUS BIDS THE PHAEACIANS FAREWELL
Odysseus had ended the tale of his adventures and fell silent, weary with the long telling of it. The Phaeacians, who had listened with delight, were also silent, for they were still under the spell of what they had heard. Alcinous was the first to speak. “Hail to you,” he said, “the noblest guest this palace has ever sheltered! And now, since you are in my realm, I hope your wanderings are over, and that you will soon be in the house of your fathers and forget all you have suffered.” Then he turned to his friends. “Listen to what I have to say to you,” he said. “A chest has been filled with beautiful tunics and mantles for our guest, and with wrought gold and many other gifts. Let each of us add to these a large tripod and a cauldron. It is much to give, but the people will recompense us.”
Gods and Heroes of Ancient Greece Page 73