Finding Ithaka

by Anna Harvey

  He paused. “One more thing Agamemnon. The men are weary after so many years fighting. There are women and children inside the city as well as their menfolk, who have fought bravely to protect them. We must ensure that we still act as men and not beasts of the forest. That the passions of our warriors do not get carried away. For our actions will be watched by the gods and judged accordingly.”

  Agamemnon, a mocking smile attached to his fine face, met Odysseus’ eyes. “If indeed this plan of yours is successful and Troy is taken, it will be hard to keep the army in check. But Odysseus, if it pleases you, I promise that I and the leaders present here will do our best to curb the bloodlust and restrain the men.” Odysseus shifted his gaze at each of the leaders, a depleted group since they had first arrived on these shores. Their leader Agamemnon, bedecked in his fine clothing; Menelaos the gentler and soft-hearted of the two brothers; the snowy haired Nestor of good counsel; Idomeneus, the seasoned warrior; the newly arrived Neoptolemos, still young and impetuous ; Ajax son of Oileus and of course Diomedes, his brother in arms. As Odysseus regarded each man in turn, a shiver ran through his body. He felt a sense of foreboding and growing apprehension.

  So here they sat, man pressed against man in the cramped space and rising heat. No one dare move lest they unwittingly give away their hiding place. Outside, Odysseus could hear human voices murmuring and a talking taking place. The sounds of the speech were too muffled to hear clearly, but he recognised some of the harsh single syllables of the local Trojan dialect of che tsuk cha and tak. There seemed to be some sort of disagreement as the quiet murmurings had changed into raised voices. It was at that point, a maiden shrieked out and no doubt his companions heard it too. Even through the thickness of the wood and his limited understanding of the language, Odysseus could make out the words “Fools. Don’t trust the Greeks bringing gifts.” He could sense the tension inside the dark space, each man knowing that the next few moments would decide the success of their plan. Sitting here in the dark, they were vulnerable. The Fates holding their future by a thread, ready to cut it at any moment.

  After what appeared to be an endless time, the voices subsided and quiet descended outside. Odysseus could feel one of the men was about to speak and hastily put his hand to his mouth. Guards might be sat outside so any sound could be their undoing. Then came the sound of metal striking stone again and again in a cacophony of sound. It was now clear the Trojans had decided to take the Horse into their city. The unbearable heat of the day was now declining when they felt the structure move. The Horse with its deadly load was being taken into the city accompanied by festive songs and celebration. Even then they were almost undone. It must have been as the Horse was pulled over the city wall that suddenly it came to an abrupt jolting halt. The sound of metal weapons striking weapons rang out. After what seemed an age, they were on their way again, slowly being pulled into the heart of the great famed city of Troy.

  The noise and festivities seemed to go on for ever. Clearly the townspeople thought that the war was over after these long years of Strife. At last they were free of their enemy. When all had grown quiet, Odysseus gave the signal to Epeios to release the trap door. The men, slowly unfurling themselves, emerged from their hiding place and climbed down the rope ladder into the heart of the city.

  “What now Odysseus?” asked Diomedes. The city was bathed in full darkness and silence. Nothing stirred. The townspeople were slumbering, spent after their drinking and festivities.

  His mind worked quickly, grasping the situation. “The beacon should have been lit by now. The fleet must be well on its way back. You men go to the city gates and make sure they are secured and open for when our comrades join us. The rest of you, follow me to the citadel.” He uttered those final fateful commands. “Spare those who are disarmed and who offer no resistance. There are men here who have fought bravely to protect their city as well as blameless women and children.”

  It was hard to try to recall the rest of that accursed night. He had spent years trying to loosen the memories. To forget the details of what he had witnessed. There had been the anxious wait for the army to return but then it had been like Hades itself had been unleashed. The carnage and massacre began as the army ran amok. There had been screams of women, crying children standing dazed not knowing where to turn, watching their homes burn. So much slaughter and blood as the city was sacked.

  In the midst of this, he had come across Agamemnon. In his fury, he had thrown him against the wall, grabbing him by the throat.

  “Why in the gods name are you allowing this to happen?” he raged. “You are king, our Anax. Can you not keep the men under control? This is not kleos when the men are acting like swine, killing and committing all manner of atrocities. You must restrain them.”

  The man had shrugged and rolled back his eyes. “Do not rage Odysseus. This is out of both our hands. The men have waited too long for this day. They will have their revenge for all the suffering they have endured.”

  “I hope the gods will not punish us for hubris with these excesses,” he had replied, releasing his grip. Nevertheless, he had ordered his own band of Kephallenian warriors to maintain discipline. With his men he had protected the house of the Antenor, the counsellor who so long ago had unsuccessfully advocated the return of Helen. When he came across his former adversary Glaukos and his wounded brother pursued by a blood-thirsty mob, he had intervened. He had spared both men from death at the hands of his fellow comrades. Where he could, he had tried to moderate the killing.

  It had been a terrible night when unspeakable and wicked acts had been committed. The slaughter of the citizens had been indiscriminate. The old king Priam had met his end by the sword of Neoptolemos, seeking shelter at the altar of Zeus. No mercy had been shown. His body had been despoiled and thrown to the dogs to feed on. Astyanax, Hector’s young son, had been hurled from the battlements to his death. His fate had been sealed on the day he was stripped of his father. Even the temples of the gods had been not been exempt from violence and desecration. What horror had he witnessed! The sight of Ajax raping the young priestess in the sacred shrine of Athene, still clutching the image of the goddess. He could still hear her screams and cries resonating in his ears.

  He awoke from his reverie with a start. It was now the full light of day and a woman was shrieking nearby. He roused himself to investigate the noise, stepping through the porch into the yard.

  One of the older servants, her face etched with lines, was stood rigid. At her side, a bucket had been overturned, spilling water over the dirt. “Whatever is the reason for your screams?” He sharply rebuked her. “Don’t you realise that you are disturbing the peace of the household?”

  “Look master,” the woman said pointing, her voice high pitched. “Do you not see it?”

  Glancing across he saw a white bird perching on the wooden rafters of the palace. “It’s only an owl,” he replied.

  “But master, don’t you realise. It’s an omen. A sign of death within the household.”

  Chapter 8

  Vrechei (It Rains )

  Heavy splutters of rain were beating on the glass pane of the window when the clock sounded the alarm. The high-pitched ring echoed around the room. The night had been stormy and a loose shutter had been knocking rhythmically against a wall somewhere. The wind was still rattling the balcony window, an inauspicious sign for the day. Thea checked the time. It was still early. Despite the temptation to lie in beneath the warm bed covers, Thea forced herself to climb out of bed. At nine o’clock promptly, she descended into the marble-tiled hotel lobby.

  “Good morning!” The loud female voice called out. It was Electra, already stationed behind the reception desk. All signs of the previous evening’s drama had vanished and instead Electra wore a wide smile on her lips.

  “Good morning, Electra.” Thea returned the greeting, her glance caught by the heavy coat of lipstick, a vibrant cerise today. The shade clashed with the crimson patterned viscose blouse and not fo
r the first time it puzzled Thea how Electra found time to attend to her wardrobe, when she spent all her waking hours at her desk.

  “Your colleagues are already outside in the car park. Oh Dr Hughes and his assistant were so wonderful last night. He is so polite,” Electra gushed. ”And always says good morning. A real English gentleman.”

  “Yes, I suppose he is,” Thea agreed.

  “But I’m afraid our weather is not so good today,” Electra continued, tightening her face into a grimace. “They say the rain is going to last most of the day. At least you have a good coat!” Kitted out in her waterproof jacket and sturdy walking boots, Thea had anticipated the temperamental spring weather.

  “Wait!” Electra dived under the counter and pulled out a white plastic bag. “I have something for you all.” The contents inside had been wrapped with great care. “I made them myself for Dr Hughes. Spanakopita, spinach pies, in case you all get hungry.”

  “Thank you,” said Thea, wondering how Electra had found the time to conjure up the pastries. The shadows etched around her eyes suggested it had been an early rise. “I‘m sure Dr Hughes will appreciate them.”

  “Have a good day,” Electra called out as Thea turned and walked through the wide double doors. Outside the rain threatened a miserable day.

  Across the car park, Thea spotted the familiar figures of Rob and Matthew, their faces obscured by their stiff waterproof jackets. They were both preoccupied with packing an assortment of bags, boxes and metal rods into the boot of a red hatch-back. There was an urgency to their movements. In the heavy downpour, it was hard to keep anything dry and ordered. At Thea’s approach, Rob immediately glanced up and a broad smile broke out on his lips.

  “Good morning, Thea.” Despite the late evening drinking, he appeared remarkably fresh-faced. “Don’t hang around. Get in the car out of the rain. Take the front seat as it’s cramped in the back.”

  “Electra sent you some pastries.”

  Through the downpour, Rob looked over at the plastic bag. “That’s very generous of her.”

  As Thea climbed in, Matthew mumbled a greeting and she noticed the dark circles under his eyes. Splashes of rain swept inside the cabin, as the car doors opened in quick succession, allowing Rob to climb into the driver seat with Matthew following closely behind.

  “So we’ve not seen so much of you,” Rob remarked casually, as he started the ignition. He glanced over his shoulder to reverse the car, catching her eye.

  “I’ve been working over in the other town,” Thea replied lightly.

  “Richard tells me you want to visit a village near the survey?”

  “That’s right, Mousatoi.”

  “We’ll probably get to the base at Kalodia later in the afternoon. First Matthew and I need to make a short stop around the landslide area to take some samples.” She noticed he was making an effort to explain things to her.

  “That sounds fine and thanks for the lift.”

  “Matthew was feeling isolated being left behind in the lab with just my company. Isn’t that right?” He paused for a moment, as Matthew ventured a response. “So he’s spending the weekend at Kalodia with some fresh faces.”

  They were now driving along the promenade, passing the ferry terminal on the sea front and avoiding the main town square. The old Debosset Bridge, now used only by pedestrians, had come into view. Its low elegant arches spanned the width of the Koutavos lagoon. The journey took them inward, encircling the lagoon, passing through small industrial yards punctuated by eucalyptus and cypress trees. After passing the old town cemetery at the far side of the old bridge, the road began to climb hugging closely the contours of the mountain. As they left the main town behind, Thea could feel the tautness lift from her body, as if she could breathe freely again. Despite the steep drops into the sea, Rob’s self-assured driving seemed to infiltrate Thea’s mood bringing increasing equanimity with every passing mile.

  The wet streets were deserted, as most local people had sensibly chosen to stay indoors. Nevertheless, there were signs of local industry: the fish farm out in the gulf, the circular hoops arranged in neat regimented rows; and signs advertising local mountain honey for sale. It was hard to see where the bees might feed on such a precipitous slope. They drove in silence except for the frantic rhythmic sound of the car wipers, sweeping away the torrent of raindrops spattering the windscreen. Rob tried to tune the radio but had given up, having been rewarded by a loud soulful tragoudia broken up by the poor signal. At times the vehicle slowed almost to a standstill to negotiate unexpected hazards: piles of stones and boulders swept down by the winter storms; a herd of goats clambering over rocks, their bells jangling in agitation; and road maintenance, where flimsy orange netting displaced metal crash barriers and impacted earth replaced the tarmac.

  “Can we stop for a moment?” Thea asked, suddenly spotting a small parking area. “I’d like to take some photographs.”

  “In this rain?” Rob replied in disbelief. “Sure.” He glanced in the mirror and brought the car to a careful halt.

  Thea undid her rucksack, pulling out a small compact camera and a canary yellow waterproof. She stepped out, quickly pulling her jacket over her sweater. Despite the rain, there was a reasonable view across the water to Paliki, although the contours of the distant hill line were partially obscured by mist. Thea glanced across the gulf. From this vantage point, she could make out some hillside villages in the distant background, silhouetted against the green and wooded higher land. A rounded hill drew her attention. It had a distinctive conical shape. She started to take some photos.

  “You seem very interested in this part of the peninsula.” Rob had stepped out of the comfort of the car to join her. He glanced around at the view in front of him. “I thought the landslide would interest you more. What’s captured your attention?”

  Thea twisted her head towards him, their eyes meeting momentarily, and again felt a strange sense of connection. With his broad shoulders and solid frame, Rob instilled a feeling of trust and dependence.

  “I’ve been reading again some passages from Homer. I was thinking that it would make sense for the palace to be somewhere over there.” She pointed towards the peninsula where the land swelled up just below the small conical hill. “It’s maybe tucked away but it is on the edge of some really fertile land. It would be within a day’s walk of Porto Katsiki, if that is the place where Odysseus first came ashore.”

  “You’re taking this search for the palace very seriously.” Rob grinned, a playfulness in his voice. “Is that the reason you want to look at the other village, Mautauki?”

  “Mousatoi,” she lightly corrected him. “Yes, the librarian on Paliki told me that some old tombs were excavated there. If there are graves then there must be a settlement. But I haven’t been able to get hold of the archaeological journals to check it out.”

  They got back into the car, the dampness on their faces, skin and waterproofs following them inside. The car set off once more. At a crossroads, where the arm of Paliki came up to meet the main part of the island, they took a sharp turn, descending into a plain. The road was newly surfaced but already the black tarmac was streaked with stress cracks, a tell-tale mark of seismic activity. About a third of the way down, they pulled off onto a small dirt track, jolting and shuddering on the rough uneven surface. With the rocking of the vehicle and the rain obscuring the windscreen, it was hard to make out where they were going.

  “Is this where you think the landslide took place?” asked Thea.

  “That’s right,” Rob answered. “At least that’s what we’re hoping to prove.”

  “We’ve been taking samples from across the isthmus to see if we can find evidence of sea vegetation”, explained Matthew enthusiastically. “Rob is an absolute expert in soil and rock analysis.”

  “Thanks Matthew for the compliment,” laughed Rob, throwing back his head. “This looks a promising spot for today.” He pulled the car over where the track broadened out, allowing two vehicle
s to pass. “Matthew, can you get the equipment and we can take a couple of soundings.” Matthew obligingly got out, quickly pulling on his waterproof and started to unload the equipment from the boot.

  Rob now turned his attention towards Thea. “We’re going to be about forty-five minutes. Do you want to stay in the car? At least you’ll stay dry.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” she replied reassuringly. “I can occupy myself. I’ve brought a couple of things to read.”

  “Don’t tell me.” Rob grinned, the laughter lines on his face now crinkling into Crow’s feet. “A copy of The Odyssey!”

  “How did you guess?”

  “We’ll see you in a bit.”

  Alone, Thea checked her watch and then opened her bag to pull out her book. She could use the time usefully to study again Homer’s descriptions of Ithaka. The pages were scored with brightly coloured markers to highlight passages containing potential clues. The book fell open at the place where the spine was most creased. She re-read again Odysseus’ description of his homeland:-

  “I live in clear set Ithaka. A Mountain stands there, Mount Neriton with its quivering leaves. Around it lies several islands very close to each other- Doulichion, Same and wooded Zakynthos. Ithaka itself is low lying and the furthest out in the sea to the west, while the other islands are away from it towards the rising sun. It is rough land, but a good place for bringing up children: I tell you, I can think of no sweeter sight than one’s own country.”

  Odyssey 9.21-30 (translation Martin Hammond)