“You!” the King of Ithaca raged as he grabbed Lycon by the throat. “Why are you not dead?”
Lycon thought quickly. It would be unthinkable for Odysseus to suspect that Hero was on the island.
“When the other witches arrived,” he said, “they argued over who would have the most succulent parts of me for their meal, and I escaped.”
“You said the rest of your party had been devoured,” said Odysseus. Lycon gagged as the king closed his grip.
“They had. My brothers rescued me from the land of the Lotus-eaters when my ship did not return ... and then we were wrecked here on Circe’s island.”
“You have encountered Circe?”
“Do you think a goddess would be satisfied with you, old man?” spat Cadmus, trying to direct the wrath of Odysseus away from Lycon.
Odysseus released Lycon and put his blade to Cadmus’ throat. “You shall all die for that,” he said.
It was Eurylochus who intervened. “My Lord Odysseus,” he said, “We have already incurred the wrath of so many gods ... can we risk harming the favourites of Circe?”
Odysseus snorted. “These are boys, common shepherds ... Circe is a goddess — she would not have them.”
“Then why are they not beasts, my Lord?” The men about Eurylochus began to murmur. “Your crew only walks as men because the goddess took you to her bed. Perhaps these men, too, have found her favour — they are young and strong. Poseidon has already set his face against us, as has Zeus and Apollo. Let us not risk the wrath of another god. Let us go, as we always intended, and leave them here to comfort Circe.”
The Greeks seemed moved by Eurylochus’ words.
“Leave them ... ”
“We would be fools to offend Circe ... ”
“They would be lions if she did not desire them as men ... ”
Odysseus’ face was dark, but he dared not deny his men whose courage already hung only by a thread. Still, his pride would not allow him to leave other men to take his place in the sorceress’ bed.
He lowered his sword. “Place them back in irons at the benches,” he said in a tone that silenced all dissent. “Let them pull the oars before they die. We shall not wait till dawn — let us leave here now.”
And so the Herdsmen were chained to the benches and the blue-prowed ship put to sea. The crew was hostile and wary of Circe’s rage, but as they were already down one rower and two of them could lay at rest for the other sons of Agelaus that pulled an oar, they did not press for the Herdsmen to be left behind. Odysseus looked at the Herdsmen with murder in his eyes — he was not a man to accept defeat in any arena kindly.
The ship pulled past the headland, frighteningly close to where the little Phaeacian craft was secured under the fall of overhanging branches. Each Herdsman tensed, knowing their sister to be within a few strokes landward. Lycon glanced at Cadmus who rowed behind him and, bracing himself for the reaction that would follow, he raised his head and howled.
HERO WAITED, listening, afraid to even pray lest she miss some sound of her brothers. The shouts of the Greeks carried through the still night air, and she stood ready for escape. But then the shouts stopped, and there was nothing again. The quiet was unnerving but she was heartened by the fact that there was no howl. Lycon had said he would howl if things went wrong.
When she heard the rhythmic splash of the forty oars that pulled the blue-prowed ship from the island, Hero was relieved. The Greeks were leaving for some reason. Her brothers must have escaped and were lying low until Odysseus was gone. She held her breath as the sound grew louder. The ship was close now. If her eyes were not so weak, and if she had been brave enough to look through the veil of the willow which hid the Phaeacian craft, she may have been able to the see the men at the oars. Instead, she heard, the soulful howl of her youngest brother, and then the voices of the Greeks raised in anger and fear.
Hero sat in shocked silence as Odysseus’ ship pulled away. Her brothers were on that ship ... or at least Lycon was. Could Cadmus and Machaon have escaped? No — Lycon would not have howled if they were still here. Were they dead then? She sat on the deck and cried for a time, hoping that Machaon and Cadmus would emerge from the trees. They did not. She prayed, still sobbing, begging the gods for their safety. It was dawn before she accepted that she was alone, and she cut the rope that tied her craft. She stood at the prow, as Lycon had shown her, and then asked the Phaeacian ship to leave the island.
“Take me to my brothers,” she whispered unable to contemplate any other course. The prow curved and reared, like the head of a horse, as the ship leapt obediently into the grey surf. Hero raised her arms and called to Poseidon to help her find the sons of Agelaus, and to keep them safe until she could save them. And then, because she was desperate for help wherever she could get it, she called to warlike Ares, and Artemis, the huntress, the gods to whom the Amazons were beloved.
“The Sirens enchant a man with their song so that he sits enraptured in their meadow piled high with the decomposing skeletons of men who have remained thus till the skin withered on their bones.”
The Odyssey Book XII
BOOK XIX
CADMUS KEPT HIS EYES on Lycon’s back, watching for any signs that his brother was badly hurt. The Greeks had been cruel in silencing the boy. It appeared that the howl of the Herdsmen unnerved their captors and it had only been Machaon’s threat to howl himself that stayed them.
The crew believed the call of the Herdsmen would summon Circe, and they were still uneasy that they would invoke her wrath by taking her favourites from her. Even Odysseus thought uncomfortably of the large wolves that had accompanied the sorceress, when first she received him. He had every intention of killing the sons of the man who had outwitted him, but not whilst they were in the waters of the goddess’ island.
Lycon looked back at Cadmus. His face was bruised, his lip split but he smiled faintly to let his brother know he was all right. They were still alive after all; the Greeks did not know that Hero existed and she was on her way to safety amongst the Cyclopes.
They rowed steadily through the rest of the night. When Eos raised her blushing face in the east, the waters had become deadly calm.
Odysseus commanded them to still the oars, for he wished to speak to his men. With the crew distracted as they gathered about their king, Machaon and Cadmus both moved as far as the irons would allow, to speak to Lycon.
“I’m fine,” Lycon dismissed their concern.
“Why did you howl?” Cadmus whispered.
“To tell Hero to go,” he replied. He explained quickly what he had agreed with their sister. Machaon and Cadmus were relieved. Though the idea of Hero alone on the open sea was not comforting, she knew the boat well, and she would find welcome and refuge with the Cyclopes.
Odysseus stood with his men seated attentively about him.
“My friends,” he said with grave import. “It is not right that I keep the prophecies of Circe to myself, and so I must share with you what she has foretold. That way we may all be forewarned as to the perils that lie ahead.”
The Herdsmen now listened with interest.
“Circe told me that we shall first encounter the Sirens,” continued Odysseus, “who bewitch every man that approaches them with their song. Men are drawn irresistibly to the flowery meadow in which the Sirens sit, and then, robbed of their desire to do anything but listen to the creatures’ mystic song, they remain until they are nothing but decaying skeletons.”
Cadmus shook his head as the crew immediately began to lament and bemoan. “They’re kind of emotional for warriors,” he muttered.
“Fear not my brave friends,” began Odysseus.
“Irony,” murmured Machaon.
“Circe has given me the means by which we may pass the insidious Sirens safely.” Odysseus held up a ball of beeswax. “Each of you shall stop your ears with wax plugs. You shall bind me to the mast, and should I beg for release you shall bind me tighter.”
“How are they
going to know he’s begging for release if their ears are plugged?” Lycon muttered with amusement.
Portions of wax were distributed to all the crew — even the Herdsmen, for every hand would be required to take the ship quickly past the Sirens’ isle. Eurylochus and one other lashed Odysseus firmly to the mast so that he could not move.
For his men and the Herdsmen, the world was now silent.
They returned to the oars and began to stroke the course that would take them past the island. At first it was difficult to regain rhythm without sound but, in time, they became used to watching the muscles of the man in front of them and the rowers worked in unison once again.
The small island on which the Sirens lived was almost treeless and flat, but for a gentle hillock at its centre. Its fields were covered in sweet long grass and flowers that ran down to the narrow seashore. As the blue-prowed ship pulled past the isle, the sons of Agelaus caught sight of the mysterious Sirens. They perched upon the highest point, with plump, feathered bodies like those of extravagant birds. They smiled with innocent girlish faces and sad longing eyes. They raised their heads and opened their mouths, in the way of singers. The Herdsmen glanced curiously at Odysseus who, tied to the mast, was the only one among them who could hear the song. The king’s face was frozen in rapture and yearning, and he strained against his bonds.
Machaon shot a warning glance at Cadmus, suspecting that his brother was tempted to unstop his ears and hear just a few strains of the Sirens’ song. Cadmus grinned sheepishly and took his hand away from his ear. Eventually the island fell far enough behind them that the crew removed the wax plugs and released their leader.
Odysseus enthused about what he had heard. Apparently the Sirens had sung in praise of the Ithacan King and the Greek victory on the broad plain of Troy.
“Probably a good thing we missed it,” Machaon said quietly.
Lycon rubbed his ear. “We’ll be pulling bits of wax out for months ... ”
With their hearing now restored they could perceive the roar of the raging surf ahead. In the distance a smoke-like cloud rose from the water. Once again the crew disintegrated into panic, throwing down their oars. The vessel came to a standstill.
Odysseus made a tour of the ship trying his best to put heart into his company with soothing words.
“We are not faced here with any threat more fearsome than the Cyclopes,” he said. “When trapped in the fiend’s cave, when all seemed lost, my courage, my clear thinking and agility of mind saved us from disaster. Do as I say my friends and once again I shall lead us through, as I have done since leaving Troy.”
“I wonder if anyone remembers that they left Troy with twelve ships?” Cadmus muttered for his brothers’ hearing.
“Oarsmen,” Odysseus went on, “stay at your oars and strike your blades hard through the broken water. If we can pull with speed and power we may yet slip by and avoid destruction. Helmsmen, hold our course to hug the cliffs. Do not stray away from the rocks, or we will be sucked into the heart of the thing Circe calls Charybdis, and our good ship will be wrecked.”
“Mac,” said Cadmus, as the movement of pulling the oar allowed him to lean into Machaon without arousing attention. “In the rocks about halfway up the cliff face!”
Machaon turned his eyes towards the rock faces, ahead of them to the left. He searched the crags and cracks with the knowledge of a cave-dweller, and he saw it too. A cave directly beneath which they would have to pass. The opening seemed to contain only darkness, but then his sharp eyes glimpsed something. A movement, a softness — something watched and waited.
Cadmus had leant forward to pass the same warning to Lycon.
Machaon looked towards Odysseus — he stood on the forecastle deck in his sword harness, holding a couple of long spears at the ready. So, the King of Ithaca knew that something waited in the rocks. Machaon could not really blame him for not mentioning it to his crew. The Greeks seemed somewhat emotionally fragile.
They stroked the blue-prowed ship through the strait. The crew groaned and shook and beseeched the gods, though it seemed they were aware of only half the danger.
As they neared the cloud of mist, the waters began to spin towards a point at the centre of the strait. The oarsmen pulled hard to keep the ship out of the vortex as Charybdis sucked down the salt water, creating a great funnel, which exposed the dark sand and rock on the seabed. The noise was deafening, reverberating against the rocks. And then the whirling ocean stopped as the salt water, and all that came with it, was disgorged, casting mist and spray against the walls of the strait.
The eyes of the terrified crewmen were fixed on this peril to their right, but the Herdsmen scanned the rocks for the thing that lurked above them. Even so it caught them by surprise.
The long serpentine necks moved with the speed and motion of whips. Each of the six heads was large with eyes that had no white. Great protruding jaws hung open exposing triple rows of teeth, set thick and close. Five men were taken so quickly that no one even saw the predators come for them. The sixth, however, locked her jaws on the shoulder of Cadmus, and was sharply halted by the irons that chained his legs to the benches and to his brothers. Machaon and Lycon dropped their oars and fell upon the creature that held their brother. The faces of the Greeks were turned upwards, to the other five men who were now being dragged up the rock face like fish caught on a lure.
Cadmus cursed and grunted in pain, and the creature tried to shake him free of the irons. Machaon punched the monster repeatedly whilst Lycon throttled its snake-like neck. Still it held onto its prize, lifting Cadmus from the deck. Desperately, Machaon looped his chains around the creature’s neck. Lycon did the same from the other side and they pulled in opposite directions. Finally the monster gagged and spat Cadmus, bloody and gasping, onto the deck.
“Cad!” Machaon and Lycon fell to their knees. The rows of teeth had torn deep gashes in their brother’s left shoulder and back. Machaon pulled off his cloak and pressed it to the wounds. Cadmus muttered furiously.
The Greeks who had been taken by the creatures were now screaming pitifully for Odysseus to help them as they were being devoured on the cliffs. It gave the Herdsmen a little time to attend to Cadmus. They lay him by the benches. He was pale but he was lucid and more angered by the attack than anything else.
The shadow of the King of Ithaca fell over them. His sword was drawn, his face twisted with the horror of the attack.
“I will end it quickly,” he said, raising his blade over the wounded Herdsman. “You two return to your oars or we shall all die.”
“You will have to kill the both of us first, Odysseus,” replied Machaon. “You already have more oars than men, how many more can you afford to lose?”
“For the love of Zeus, sheathe your sword Odysseus,” cried Eurylochus. “We have barely the strength and will to move this ship as it is. Two able men are better than none — and these men are protected by Circe — is that not clear by now? The monster released him and no other!”
There was a general outcry of agreement from the spent and frightened crew. Odysseus looked around, knowing he risked mutiny. He returned his blade to its silver scabbard.
“Very well,” he said. “When we reach Ithaca I will have them stoned as traitors, but let them live as slaves till then. Return to your oars! Let us be out of this monster’s reach before she finishes her meal of our comrades.”
Machaon and Lycon glanced anxiously at their brother, but they returned to their benches and pulled with the remaining crew. With the many-headed creature now occupied with her banquet of screaming Greeks, they passed the deadly rocks without falling victim to the vortex of Charybdis. They cleaved the water urgently nevertheless, determined to bring the ship clear of the lethal strait.
As the western horizon welcomed the sun god into its inky arms, they saw an island in the distance with wide white beaches and rolling hills. As the blue-prowed ship stroked closer they could hear the lowing of the broad-browed cattle that dotted
the hillside, and the bleating of the fatted flocks.
The crew began to cheer and thank the gods for their salvation.
“Cad!” Lycon called to his brother without breaking his stroke.
Cadmus groaned. He spoke through gritted teeth. “I’m fine, don’t worry.”
“Has the bleeding stopped?”
“I don’t think so — is that bad?”
“It doesn’t sound good.”
Machaon glanced back at them. “It can’t be that bad if you’re still talking,” he said, without any real conviction. “Just hang on and try not to move until we make land.”
Odysseus suddenly directed them to still the oars. The men protested for they were now so close to shore.
The King of Ithaca put up his hand for quiet. “My men, you must recollect your courage and listen to me whilst I tell you of the oracles I have had from Tieresias the Theban in Hades, and from the fair Circe.”
Begrudgingly the men released their oars and the ship stalled in the darkening waters.
“Before us is Thrinacie, the Island of the Sun, the comfort of mankind. Both the prophet and the goddess warned me that our greatest peril awaits us here ... so let us row past and put this place astern.”
The crew groaned and lamented, for their bodies and their courage were exhausted. Again it was Eurylochus who stood against Odysseus.
“My king,” he pleaded, “You are a man of iron resolve, whose spirit never flags and whose body never tires. But we are worn out by the labour and horror of this day — it is cruel to deny us the chance to set foot on dry land and cook a cheerful supper. We will not stray from the ship, and in the morning we can continue this troubled journey of ours after a night of resting on solid earth. Surely there can be no harm.”
The crew applauded Eurylochus’ speech.
Machaon remembered Tieresias’ words. He could understand why Odysseus wished to avoid making land. Still, if they stopped, he and Lycon would be able to help Cadmus, so he said nothing. All the Greeks had to do was refrain from stealing the cattle of the sun.
Chasing Odysseus Page 18
