“Then where in Hades are they?” Machaon muttered. He was worried. Odysseus had sacked Ismarus. Though they were big, the Cyclopes were a peaceful people. They would stand little chance against the bloodthirsty Greeks.
“Why don’t you ask Polyphemus?” suggested Bion suddenly. He had apparently woken and heard. “He sees everything from his cave.
“Hush now, Bion,” Lanaeda reprimanded her son. “You have brought enough trouble with your notions today!” She glanced anxiously at her husband.
The Herdsmen noticed her look and regarded their hosts questioningly.
“Bion might be right — perhaps Polyphemus has seen them,” said Cadmus. “If the scouting party has not returned by morning, we will seek him out.”
Lanaeda looked again at Daemon, the concern obvious in her eye.
Daemon took her hand. “Do not worry my flower,” he said. “I shall go with them.”
“Polyphemus looks like one of our people,” Lanaeda explained, “but the blood of Poseidon runs strong in his veins. He is a solitary creature who pens his flocks near the sea in sight of his father. He is harmless if not provoked, but his anger is as vengeful as the gods themselves.” Lanaeda lowered her voice to a whisper. “He has been known to devour men.”
“He’s a cannibal?” Cadmus asked in horror.
“Well, not really,” Daemon replied. “He is a Cyclops. He does not eat his own kind — just men and only those who challenge him ... he does not hunt them.”
“Comforting ... ,” Lycon murmured.
Daemon laughed. “You will be safe in my company. We will not let Polyphemus eat our friends!”
And so they spent another night in the company of their one-eyed benefactors, who insisted on celebrating the rescue of Bion with food and wine and praise. Hero awoke and regarded the lavish plaudits of the Cyclopes with amusement.
“How can you let them regard you as such great heroes for such a thing?” she admonished her brothers.
Machaon laughed. “It seems our sister is much more difficult to impress,” he said.
“You didn’t see it Hero,” Cadmus said gravely. “We were magnificent.”
“Stuff of legends really,” Lycon assured her.
Hero smiled. She did not really begrudge them any honours. Though she would never admit it, she regarded her seemingly fearless brothers with both pride and admiration. Let the gods place the treacherous kings of Greece amongst the stars — the sons of Agelaus would be celebrated here.
“But whilst we were still within hearing, I let Polyphemus know who had defeated him.”
The Odyssey Book IX
BOOK XII
WHEN THE CRIMSON FINGERS of Eos next stroked the eastern sky, the Herdsmen rose to assist Daemon with the morning’s milking. Bion played childish games incongruous with his great size, but which were in keeping with his tender years. With his mother watching, however, he no longer played at battle. Hero, oblivious to the dawn in the darkness of the cave, slept on, for she was still not strong. With the milking done they visited the outcrop from which they had looked upon the ship of Odysseus the day before. The ship remained, as did its crew, languishing still on the beach. Cadmus, who was the swiftest son of Agelaus, ran down the mountain pass to within earshot of the Greek camp. The sun had barely started its journey through the sky when he returned.
“It is as we suspected,” he told his brothers. “The scouting party has not returned though they were expected to be gone only a short while. The crew is quite worried.”
“And Odysseus?” asked Machaon.
“He is with the scouting party, Mac — that is why they do nothing: without him they have no captain.”
“Well, we’d better find him then,” said Machaon. “If we help him out of trouble, Odysseus may give us a fair hearing,” he added hopefully.
“We will find Polyphemus,” said Daemon. “He may have seen the direction the Greeks ventured. He tends his flocks on the higher pastures during the day.”
They returned to the cavern to collect their weapons. They had moved unarmed amongst the Cyclopes, but since they were seeking a creature who had been known to eat men, and the Greeks were upon the mainland, they decided to be cautious.
Hero was still asleep. Lanaeda feared the girl had exerted herself too soon for her fevers had returned, though not as intensely as before. She reassured the sons of Agelaus.
“The little one needs rest, but she is not in danger. You go with Daemon. I will look after her.”
Such was their trust in the gentle Cyclops that they left Hero in her care without reluctance, and followed her husband to the most remote pastures on the higher slopes.
It was noon by the time they spied a solitary figure sitting upon a rocky mound watching his flock, and mumbling companionably to a massive ram by his side. Polyphemus was a formidable giant, at least three or four times as tall as the Herdsmen and more heavily boned than the other Cyclopes. His single eye was set in a protruding forehead and overhung by a shaggy brow. His sheer size and the ferocity of his expression were alarming, but there was something simple and innocent in the manner in which he spoke to his ram.
“That is Cyrus,” Daemon whispered to the sons of Agelaus, “Polyphemus’ ram and his best friend. He tolerates the presence of other Cyclopes, but it is only the company of the Cyrus that he values.”
“Bodes well,” Lycon muttered.
“Polyphemus, hail Polyphemus!” Daemon called.
The great brute looked up and grabbed his club reflexively.
“It’s me, Daemon.”
“Who are the strangers in your company, Daemon?” Polyphemus demanded fiercely.
“Herdsmen, proven friends of the Cyclopes,” Daemon replied firmly.
“Greetings Polyphemus, son of Poseidon,” called Machaon. “We search for Greeks who have recently reached these shores. They were driven astray by contrary winds and have landed here by mistake.”
“Your cave is near the sea, Polyphemus,” said Daemon. “Have you seen these men?”
Polyphemus looked at them slyly for a moment. “No,” he said as he rubbed Cyrus between the horns. “I have not seen these Greeks. If I had, the sackers of Troy would find no friendly reception in me. I would not tolerate the thieving seducers in my presence.”
“Are you sure?” Daemon pressed.
“Why wouldn’t I be sure?” Polyphemus replied, becoming agitated. “I could not mistake the puny form of men for some other creature, and neither am I feeble of mind! Why shouldn’t I be sure?”
“I meant no offense, Polyphemus,” Daemon said. “If you do encounter the Greeks please bring word to me. We’ll leave you in peace.”
Daemon turned to go and Polyphemus glared at the Herdsmen, baring his teeth and growling like a wild beast. Cadmus smiled broadly back. “Nice ram,” he said under his breath.
They did not return immediately to the cavern, but searched the woodlands and fields for any sign of Odysseus’ men. There was none.
“You know, Mac,” said Lycon thoughtfully, “neither you nor Daemon mentioned that the Greeks had destroyed Troy and we are the first men to come here since the fall.”
“That’s true,” Machaon replied. “So?”
“How did Polyphemus know that it was the sackers of Troy whom we sought?”
Machaon nodded. “You’re right,” he said. “Polyphemus does not tell us all he knows.”
They asked Daemon to take them back to Polyphemus’ cave. The Cyclops agreed for he would not have denied them anything now.
“We will have to hurry,” he said, looking anxiously at the position of the sun. “Polyphemus will return soon and he will not welcome strangers near his home ... particularly men.”
They made their way down the mountain pass. Polyphemus’ cave was close to the sea, its high entrance overhung by laurels. The mouth of the cave was surrounded by a large yard of stone walls bedded deep between tall pines and high branched oaks. It was here that Polyphemus penned his sheep at night.
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The Herdsmen studied the tracks in the ground, still soft from recent rain. The giant footfall of Polyphemus was easily discernable amongst the tracks of sheep and goats, but there were other impressions.
Cadmus knelt to look more closely at the prints. “These are the tracks of men,” he said. “Several of them, but they go in only one direction.” He pointed towards the cave.
They approached the entrance cautiously, stepping amongst the marks already made so that their own presence would go undetected. The cave’s mouth was blocked by a huge slab of stone — there was no way to enter.
“Quick, we must go!” It was Daemon, who was keeping watch for the return of Polyphemus. In the distance they could hear the bleating of his flock as he drove it down the pass towards his pens.
The sons of Agelaus moved quickly into the trees with Daemon. The size of the Cyclops forced him deeper into the woods to hide, but the Herdsmen were able to remain unseen, whilst still keeping Polyphemus and his home within sight.
Polyphemus arrived, driving his sheep before him, a huge bundle of firewood under his arm. He did not leave the beasts in the yard, but unblocked the entrance and drove them quickly into the cave. When they were all safely within he restored the massive entrance barrier as if it had been made of basket weave and not stone.
The Herdsmen followed Daemon home in silence, the thoughts of each within the cave of Polyphemus. They were for a while distracted with concern for their sister, who it seemed was not yet clear of the lotus poison. They sat with her talking quietly of happier times, and of Ida, until she fell again into a fevered sleep. Machaon studied her tormented rest anxiously. The spasms no longer racked her body, but it was clear that she would not be ft to travel for some time. If they did not reach Odysseus whilst he was here then they would have to delay their pursuit until Hero was well.
“Do you think Polyphemus has already eaten the Greeks?” Lycon asked, voicing what worried them all.
“No,” said Cadmus. “If he had, he would not have taken his sheep into the cave ... he couldn’t just leave them outside, because he had to seal the entrance. He has Odysseus’ scouting party trapped in there.”
Machaon agreed. “We shall have to rely on Odysseus to keep himself and his men alive for tonight. Tomorrow when Polyphemus leaves for the pastures we will move the rock and free the Greeks.”
“How on earth are we going to move it, Mac?” Lycon asked. “You saw the size of the thing!”
“We will help you,” said Daemon. “I will gather some others. We are not as strong as Polyphemus, but between us we will be able to move the stone.”
Machaon hesitated. “We are grateful for your kindness, Daemon,” he said, “but make no mistake, these are bloodthirsty, pitiless men we seek to aid. If Odysseus did not hold the honour of our people to ransom, then we would not risk unleashing him again.”
Daemon put his large hand on Machaon’s shoulder. “It is true, Machaon, that we are not a race of warriors, but we will help you nonetheless. Once the rock is moved we will retreat. You tell Odysseus that you and your noble brothers moved the stone unaided. He will be so in awe of your strength, that he will answer your questions and deny you nothing.”
Cadmus laughed. “That’s brilliant!” he exclaimed. “Perhaps we could tell him we are gods ... it would explain why Ly has risen from the grave!”
Machaon made a silent oath that he would kill Odysseus himself, rather than allow the Greeks to harm the generous one-eyed people who had befriended them, but he accepted Daemon’s plan.
The sons of Agelaus took turns watching over Hero in case she woke in the night and wanted them. Lanaeda did not seem to sleep at all, but cared for their sister, as if she were her own child.
It was still deep into the night when one of the other Cyclopes burst into the cavern.
“Daemon, awaken!” he demanded. “Polyphemus is making a terrible noise. We are going to see what ails him — we thought that you would want to know.”
Immediately Daemon and the Herdsmen seized their weapons and followed the Cyclopes to the cave by the sea. The air rang with agonised screams.
Daemon stood by the entrance of the cave, still blocked by the great stone.
“Polyphemus,” he called. “What’s wrong with you? Why do you shout? Is somebody trying to do you harm?”
Polyphemus’ gasping reply came from within. “It is nobody. Nobody is doing me violence!”
“Then why do you shout Polyphemus? Are you ill?”
“No!” shrieked the giant. “I am not ill.”
“Perhaps we should go in,” Machaon whispered to Daemon. “He sounds in need of aid.”
They tried to move the rock, but it appeared Polyphemus leant against it from the inside and not even the combined strength of half a dozen Cyclopes could move the mammoth stone. In the end Daemon turned to the Herdsmen.
“We will leave him be,” he said. “By the noise he is making, he’s alive, so we shall return at dawn. He will need to let his sheep out to graze — Polyphemus is foremost a shepherd — and then we shall see what has happened within.”
Once again they returned to Daemon’s cave in the windy heights, where they slept fitfully as they waited for the new day.
When the blushing roses of Eos finally unfurled upon the horizon, the sons of Agelaus and several Cyclopes were outside Polyphemus’ cave. He had not appeared, but they could hear his muttering from inside.
“I think we should keep ourselves unseen,” said Daemon. “Who knows what manner of temper he shall be in when he emerges?”
They took positions obscured by the trees. The Cyclopes, as before, were necessarily deeper in the woods than the Herdsmen. It was still early morning when the stone moved. From their closer vantage Machaon and his brothers could see Polyphemus sitting in the opening with his arms outstretched. He let his beasts out, but not before touching and running his hands over the backs of each one.
“What in Hades is he doing?” Cadmus whispered.
“I don’t know, Cad,” Machaon replied, perplexed. “Perhaps he is mad.”
“No,” said Lycon. “Look at the blood which cakes his eye socket — the poor brute has been blinded.”
The forehead and cheeks of the giant were crusted with dried blood and his single eyelid had collapsed into a hollow socket.
“Gods!” murmured Cadmus. “He is making sure that it is sheep and not Greeks he releases from his cave.”
Machaon unsheathed his sword. “If he catches the men we will have to act quickly before he slays them ... though I can’t say I blame him,” he added looking again at the ruined face of the Cyclops.
“Look!” Lycon alerted them as three ewes emerged together. To the Herdsmen it was obvious they had been tied, but to the hands of blind Polyphemus they were merely beasts walking three abreast. He ran his hand over their backs, and completely missed the man secured to the underbelly of the middle animal. The trio trotted happily into the sunshine bearing the Greek with them.
“What should we do Mac?” Cadmus asked as they watched the escape.
“Leave them be,” Machaon replied. “If the Greeks get away unaided, then we need not interfere. I have no desire to harm or challenge Polyphemus if it is not necessary. We will act only if he catches them.”
Four times more a group of sheep secured together emerged from the cave, and each time Polyphemus let them pass. Finally Cyrus walked past his master. The Herdsmen stiffened as they recognised Odysseus clinging to the ram’s woolly breast. Polyphemus stroked the beast lovingly and spoke to it gently. And then he let it out of the cave too.
“Come on,” said Cadmus. “Let us see where the Greeks go. We may be able to talk with Odysseus now.”
They signalled the Cyclopes and, skirting carefully around the earshot of the disconsolate Polyphemus, they ran in the direction that the sheep had taken. When they next caught sight of Odysseus, he had cut his men from the sheep and they were driving the beasts onto their ship. Behind them they could hear
the cries of Polyphemus as he realised that his prisoners had escaped.
The sons of Agelaus broke into a run, the Cyclopes close behind them. But the Greeks sighted the tall Cyclopes from a distance and redoubled their efforts to launch their ship. The vessel had pulled away by the time they reached the shore. The Herdsmen watched in dismay as the blue-prowed ship stroked rapidly through the grey waters and Polyphemus shrieked in rage behind them. The giant clambered unseeing onto a protrusion of rock. He stood immense and dreadful against the sky.
From the Greek vessel came a shout, the voice of Odysseus, taunting the giant. In fury, Polyphemus lifted a boulder and hurled the great rock in the direction of the voice. The missile landed just in front of the ship and the resulting waves propelled it back towards the shore.
The sons of Agelaus could only watch as Odysseus grabbed a long pole and punted for all he was worth whilst his men rowed in panic and the boat hurtled towards the beach. The Greeks narrowly avoided running aground and began again to row toward the island where the rest of their fleet awaited them.
The ship was further from the mainland when Odysseus began to taunt Polyphemus again.
“Cyclops,” he shouted. “If anyone asks you how you came by your unsightly blindness, tell him your eye was put out, not by a man called Nobody, but by Odysseus, Sacker of Cities, the son of Laertes, who lives in Ithaca!”
“The man’s an idiot!” muttered Cadmus as Polyphemus sent another boulder into the air. This time the projectile landed behind the Greek vessel, pushing it towards the island and out of earshot.
Polyphemus roared and sobbed. “Cyrus,” he cried. “Just give me back my friend ... ” When it became clear that the ram was lost to him, the giant began to pray. He lifted his hands towards the sun that he could no longer see. “Hear me, Poseidon, god of the sable locks, earthshaker, lord of the sea; you have never been ashamed to call me your son, and so if I am yours indeed, grant that Odysseus may never reach his home, or that if he does, let him come late in evil plight with all his comrades dead ... ”
The Herdsmen made their way back up the mountain pass with Daemon and the other Cyclopes. They walked in silence for the fury and grief of Polyphemus was terrible and moving. They knew his flock, including the ram called Cyrus, would be slaughtered and the downfall of the fearsome Polyphemus would be complete.
Chasing Odysseus Page 11
