Odysseus: The Return

  Eurylochus regarded me with an imperceptible scowl, but he didn’t say a word. Maybe he thought I’d gone mad. Perhaps not even my faithful friend believed in me any more. This thought wounded me but I never stopped seeking out his help. Days went by. Often we would sit talking, exchanging memories. Stories of when we were children and free to roam through the forests and swim in the sea. ‘Do you remember our first voyage to the mainland?’ I asked him.

  He did. We recollected the days and the hours, our songs, our words, our dreams. It helped to remind us that we were alive and real, that we could think of the future, that we would win in the end and that, at the end of our long journey, we would return to our world. We would go back to the life we’d had before we left for war.

  Eurylochus’ voice interrupted my thoughts: ‘Look! Land!’

  I looked at the sea instead because I’d realized that our speed was increasing although the wind was not getting stronger. My heart jumped in my chest. Danger!

  The voice of Sinon rained down on us from the top of the mast: ‘Whirlpool on the right! Reefs on the left!’

  ‘It’s happening,’ I thought. What Circe had predicted. Unavoidable. Whatever decision I made I would lose my companions. How many of them? This I did not know. I ran to the bow and shouted: ‘Haul in the sail! Man the oars!’

  Then I trained my eyes forward: the crashing sea was wedging itself, as impetuously as a river in flood, between the two horns of the strait. Any attempt to override the current I felt tugging at the ship was unthinkable. The whirlpool to the right was created by an enormous flow of water smashing into a promontory. The crags on the left jutted out around a cave whose curved vault we could see emerging from the sea.

  ‘Give orders for the prow to hold to the centre!’ said Eurylochus.

  ‘No,’ I answered. ‘If we stay in the middle we’ll be sucked into the whirlpool and the ship will be swallowed up with everything in it. We’ll bear as far left as possible without grazing the reefs. That won’t be easy but if we try to stay in the centre it’ll be the end of us all.’

  ‘Helm right! Left oars dead in the water, right oars at full force!’ I shouted to make myself heard over the roar of the whirlpool and of the waves pounding at the reef, seething with foam. The men all pitched in to execute the manoeuvre. Sinon scrambled down from the mast and went to his shipmates’ aid at his oar. The ship began to heel left under the thrust of the oars and the helm as my comrades on the right side bent their backs, rowing with all their might, but then the turbulent current drew us in towards the reefs and the cave. The mouth of the cave was hidden behind a curtain of spray and mist and we couldn’t easily make it out, but we stayed on course because the roaring vortex on our right terrified us even more.

  We were enveloped all at once by a dense cloud: the water was everywhere, blinding us. I suddenly heard blood-curdling screams as enormous tentacles lashed at the ship’s deck and snapped several of the oars in two. I saw my shrieking comrades writhing and twisting, tossed high above our heads, before they disappeared. Their shouts were louder than the crashing of the breakers, their desperate pleas for help were swallowed by the mouth of the cavern, bristling with points as jagged and sharp as the teeth of any monster. Then the force of the current prevailed over the surge and, roaring, it dragged us away and out of the straits. When the thick wall of foam and spray had dispersed, the ship finally slowed its course and we found ourselves in the open sea. The bucking waves calmed as we drew away from the straits. Towards sunset we stopped in the middle of nowhere.

  Eurylochus’ voice shook me out of my dazed state: ‘We lost six men.’

  ‘What was it?’ I asked as if I was just waking from a nightmare. I didn’t recognize my own voice.

  ‘A . . . monster,’ replied Eurylochus. ‘It was a monster with seven heads.’

  I said nothing. I walked down my ship, counting the empty places: Sinon . . . Polites . . . Eurynomus . . . Leucippus . . . Kresilas . . . Anticlus. I was shattered, but I would not let it show. They were watching me, my men: panting, crushed by exhaustion, terror, grief. My tears mixed with the salty drops of sea on my face.

  ‘Men!’ I shouted. ‘We have overcome a dreadful trial! We have survived the invincible current, the ravenous vortex, the massacring monster! We have lost six brave companions, but they will live on in our hearts. We will weep for them when we touch land and when we return home we will raise mounds in their honour, one for each man on his island of origin. Their memory will never be lost. Poets and singers will tell of their adventures and their sacrifice. Their faces, their smiles, their voices will be forever with us. Once again, men, we have not allowed the forces of these terrible places to take the upper hand.

  ‘I was forced to make a decision that broke my heart. A choice between risking the lives of our men or losing the whole ship with everyone on it. Their sacrifice has allowed us to live! And now there is one thing we can be sure of – only one final test awaits us. Then, men, we will return home. We will embrace our wives and our children, we will see the land where we were born, we’ll watch as smoke rises from the rooftops of our homes.

  ‘Now, establish a new order on the rowing benches, space yourselves out. Replace the broken and damaged oars. We’ll make new ones when we find land and trees. We will carve them with the bronze of our swords.

  ‘Only this I still ask of you – obey me, no matter what I order you to do or prohibit you from doing. Obey me and I will take you home! I swear it on the head of the son I haven’t seen since he was an infant, and on everything I hold most dear and precious. Your endeavours will be glorified for centuries to come, and all those who see you or, many long years from now, come upon your tombs, will pause, and say: “This was one of the comrades of Odysseus, son of Laertes, the destroyer of cities. He survived monsters and tempests, the savage cyclops, unimaginable ordeals. He made it all the way to the threshold of implacable Hades, alive, and he never forgot his homeland.”

  ‘And now, loose the sail!’

  I let out the triple war cry of the kings of Ithaca and the ship, thrust by the wind, moved out, solid and quick, her bow ploughing the blue swell of the sea that never sleeps.

  WE SAILED around in a wide circle on the current that was still carrying us, then struck out south, turning west and then north again. We were headed to the land of Trinacria where we would find the herds of Helios, the Sun who sees all from above, grazing. That was what Circe had foretold and it was there that we would face our last trial.

  We landed in a beautiful bay where a spring of clear water flowed. The first thing we did when we went ashore was to celebrate funeral rites for the companions we’d lost. They would thus be free to join the other comrades we’d lost in battle or in our long wanderings and, sad as they must be, they would nonetheless find company in that blind and melancholy world and perhaps even a bit of consolation.

  When the sun had set, we built a fire and gathered around it to eat and to partake in the wine that cheered our hearts. We had just enough wine left for this last meal together, the last of all the jars Circe had filled and stowed aboard. We lingered there on the shore until late that night, speaking in low voices, and I wondered whether a god could be watching the glow of our small fire from the height of the heavens. Might he not even decide to help us? I poured an offering to my goddess, because I could not stop myself from searching her out. When weariness descended on my eyes and I felt the desire for sleep, I lay down on my cloak and dozed off with a heavy heart, because I had no idea when my tribulations would end.

  The next morning the sun awoke us as it rose from behind the hills, but very soon a stormy cloud advancing from the south obscured it. At first, the warm air drew the dampness of the night from our limbs, but then, as the hours passed, the wind grew stronger and we had to run to the ship and push her to the shelter of a sea cave, where we managed to moor her. We slept on the ship as the wind raged and howled all that night. Only towards morning did it begin to die down, although strong, h
ot gusts kept blowing from the south for days, suffocating us. I understood that the relentless wind, blowing contrary to the direction of our destination, was the lethal sign of our last test. A god was imprisoning us on that land. We could not even have escaped by rowing the ship out. We were down six strong rowers and without them our strength could not hold out – the southerly Auster would drive us back to land.

  After ten days of this, our food stores ran out. Luckily, the fresh spring was providing us with plenty of cold, clear water. We would even go for dips at times to cool ourselves off, but no sooner were we out when the heat overwhelmed us again. As the days passed, I noticed that the spring water had begun to diminish and that the current was slowing; soon we had to start filling the jars to ensure our supply.

  In the mornings and towards evening, when the heat abated, some of us would walk along the shore in search of fish, crabs and shrimp, while others went inland to gather roots, fruit, berries and tubers or to lay traps for birds, but they always came back with meagre pickings. As the days and nights passed, our bodies became leaner. The muscles which had made our blows in battle so lethal and our oars so powerful were wasting. By day we roamed the desolate land like ghosts, at night the screaming wind kept us from sleeping. Then one morning, just before dawn, we heard the sound of bells in the dark and before long a whole herd of cattle and gigantic bulls with long curved horns appeared. But there was no herdsman.

  There it was, the final test! The herd of the Sun. Untouchable. Deadly.

  Some of the men were already getting up and closing in on the mysterious creatures. We were all famished. Alarmed, I stopped them and woke all the others. I spoke as they gathered around me: ‘Everything that Circe predicted has happened: we have encountered the Sirens and the fatal straits, the monster and the maelstrom. We’ve survived, although we have had terrible losses. If these prophecies of the wanaxa of that remote island have turned out to be true, you can be sure that this last ordeal will prove to be as terrible as she foretold. It is the last, but most dreadful.

  ‘Another man has warned us as well, in no less dire terms. When I summoned the prophet Tiresias from Hades, he told me that if we so much as lay our hands on these animals, who are sacred to the god who sees all from above, death for us all, and the destruction of our ship, will be the consequence.’

  I did not have to add anything else. They seemed to accept my words, but Eurylochus exhorted them as well: ‘Wanax Odysseus, our king, has revealed the truth to us. If the Theban prophet, the blind man who once saw, and still sees, what is invisible to other mortals, announced our ruin and that of our ship if we touch these animals, it means that if we stay away from them, we will be saved. It is said that no man can resist hunger’s terrible pangs, but we must.’

  ‘Search everywhere for asphodel bulbs and eat them. That will ease the cramping of your stomachs,’ I said. ‘They’ll give you no sustenance but at least you won’t suffer. The wind will change direction. It may happen just a moment before our deaths, but it will change, and call us back from the gates of Hades. We will set sail again. Our ship will drag nets that will fill with fish. We will roast them on the brazier at the stern and we will regain our strength. Nothing and no one will be able to stop us. We will point the prow east and we will make it back home! I swear it. You’ll tell your grandchildren one day about what you went through . . . your extraordinary adventures, your heroic perseverance, and they will listen enchanted. Resist, my comrades, friends, brothers! Do not allow your spirits to be shaken! The strongest among you will help the weakest, the bravest will encourage the fearful and console those who weep. No one will be left to die, no one will be left alone. All of us, all together, will cross the threshold of the impossible on our ship and we will find our sea, our sky, our horizon.’

  They listened with attentive expressions but their eyes betrayed wariness. I could not understand what they were feeling at that moment, what was going through their hearts. But they obeyed me. They did not approach the herd and I fervently hoped that the animals would leave as quickly as they had unexpectedly appeared. Instead they stayed. They never moved, but grazed now and then on the scraggly shrubs growing between the rocks and the sand. They never lay down to rest. Their imposing, massive bulks never lessened, as if they were feeding every day on the lush, tender grass of a fertile meadow.

  I tried to think of a way of scaring them off, of chasing them out of sight of my men who were dying of hunger, but I didn’t want to touch them or hurt them. I didn’t know how far the prophecy went. How jealous was the god of his herd? How closely was he watching? Would he tolerate the approach of a mortal?

  Days passed thus, and nights. There were no fish left in the sea, no bulbs in the ground, there was no more water from the spring and the hot sky sparkled like a bowl of bronze. I was desperate enough to drag myself to the top of a promontory overlooking the sea. My face turned to the blinding globe, I cried out: ‘God who sees all, look at me now! I’m here on the island where your herd is grazing. It was not our will to land here. The current that carried us was to blame, the wind that drove us on. We have suffered all that men can suffer, let us leave! We’ve shown our respect, but we’re dying! Extinguish your fire, curb your torrid wind, send us rain, drive away your cattle . . . let the wind blow in our favour! I beg you! I implore you! Listen to me! Heed my words!’ I burst into tears, fell to my knees and pounded my head on a sharp stone until blood spurted from my forehead. I offered him my own blood.

  I had no more tears. My voice was gone. I was stripped of strength.

  I began walking, to return to my men, but my suffering was destined to never end. What I saw as I approached cut me like the blade of a sword. The men had attacked the herd. They had brought down two animals and there they were, sitting around a fire, devouring the meat. From their flesh-stripped carcasses I heard lowing so loud and deep it sounded like thunder. The sound was deafening . . . or was I merely imagining it?

  My eyes spun around and I saw Eurylochus dragging himself up the craggy hillside. He was wounded. I ran to his side.

  ‘It all happened so fast that I couldn’t stop them. They flew at me, knocked me down, kicked me, brandished their naked swords. They seemed possessed by demons. The beasts did not move a single step – they simply collapsed to the ground under the men’s blows. I shouted at them to abstain from eating the meat, in the hope that the god would spare them. In vain. It was Perimedes who answered me, with a crazed laugh: “At least we’ll die with our stomachs full!” and that’s when I gave up. Forgive me, forgive me!’ He was sobbing.

  I helped him to his feet. His face and his right arm were bleeding. He had fought them. To no avail.

  My shipmates feasted all night long, gorging themselves on the meat. Eurylochus himself got up at one point and went close to the fire.

  ‘Stop,’ I told him. ‘Don’t go.’

  ‘What difference does it make any more?’ he asked, and snatched a piece of meat out of the flames, sinking his teeth into it greedily.

  ‘You’ll see,’ said my heart, but no word issued from the shelter of my teeth.

  I prayed again to my goddess, still hoping, forever hoping, that she could hear me. I called her name, I implored her to give me a sign of her presence. Nothing. I went aboard my ship and stretched out under the rowing benches, wrapping myself in my cloak. Finally, exhausted with fatigue and hunger, overwhelmed by the feelings crowding my heart, I fell asleep.

  The sea breeze and a cold chill awoke me. The wind had picked up and the sail was flapping and smacking the mast. My shipmates were waking as well. They gathered up their cloaks and filed silently aboard the ship, one after another with heads hanging low. The herd was gone. All that remained were the two carcasses, jaws agape in mocking grins. I waited until they were sitting at the rowing benches before I walked to the prow and shouted at the top of my voice: ‘Why? Why?’

  A fish, a small tuna, flipped onto the aft desk as I was casting off the moorings. Its tail and fins were
wriggling as it tried to jump back into the sea. I skewered it on my sword, gutted it and put it to roast on the brazier. I sat in a corner and ate it all myself without offering even a bite to my men. I did not open my mouth for days and days. Eurylochus took care of governing the ship, giving orders and appointing shifts. Everything seemed to be going well: the wind was stiff and steady, blowing east. Sailing was a pleasure, but I knew that the end was near, I could feel it. Tiresias’ words echoed in my ears: ‘I predict ruin for your ship and your shipmates.’

  After six days of navigation and of silence, the storm blew in.

  A cloud as vast and dark as the sea itself galloped at us, blotting out the sun almost instantly, then a bolt of lightning tore through the black sky, flashing on the horizon like an enormous fire arrow. Thunder crashed above us and a gale whipped up the sea, raising huge, roaring waves tipped with livid foam. The ship was struck violently on its side and listed so sharply that it nearly overturned, but then swung upright and began to ride the waves, plunging into sudden vortexes and swiftly climbing sheer walls of dark water. The men were flung from one side to the other, fore and aft. Some, thrown against the benches and flanks by the terrible force of the storm, their limbs shattered, laboured to drag themselves across the bilge. The hull groaned, twisting from one end to the other like a wounded cetacean. I rushed to reach the helm, gripping the rail tight as I made my way, to go to Perimedes’ aid.

  ‘Will we make it, wanax?’ he shouted to make himself heard over the winds that carried away his words. ‘We’ll make it, won’t we?’

  ‘We will make it, helmsman!’ I replied, shouting even louder. ‘We’ll make it as we always have. There’s no storm that can sink us!’

  No question could have been more foolish, and yet I understood what my helmsman was trying to tell me. He wanted me to know that he had disobeyed me out of desperation, like all his comrades, that exhaustion had done them in, but that I was still his king and the high commander of the ship, and that he would go all the way to Hades with me, braving monsters, demons, gods and tempests.