Odysseus gently explained to his mother the reason for his journey to the Land of the Dead. Then he asked her many questions: “How are Penelope and Telemachus? Did Penelope bury my memory and marry another? How is my father? Is he still alive?”
The ghost looked at her son sadly.
“Your family has been broken by sorrow,” she said. “Your wife still waits for you. But she spends her days and nights weeping. Your son is strong and brave. Though he is young, he guards your home, your fields, and your livestock. He also mourns your absence, as does your father. Your father lives in the country and never goes near town. In winter, he wears only rags and sleeps on the floor. In summer, he sleeps in the vineyard. He weeps for you all the time.”
Odysseus was grieved to hear this news of his family. “And you, Mother?” he asked. “What sad fate has befallen you?”
“Your absence weighed too greatly on my heart,” she said. “As I grew more and more certain you would never return home, I became too sad to live.”
Odysseus reached out to embrace his mother’s ghost. Three times he tried. But each time, she slipped away from him as if she were made of air.
“Mother!” he cried. “Why are you not there when I try to embrace you?”
“My son, I am only a spirit,” she said gently. “Leave the Land of the Dead, now. Find the light of day while you still live.”
To Odysseus’ great sadness, the spirit of his mother then faded from his sight, like a shadow or a dream.
NINE
THE WARRIOR GHOSTS
When the ghost of Odysseus’ mother had gone, more spirits came forward to drink from the trench.
Odysseus drew his sword and ordered them to approach one at a time.
First came the spirits of the wives and the mothers of slain Greek heroes. Then came the ghosts of the great kings and warriors themselves. Among them was the ghost of Agamemnon, High King of the Greek forces during the Trojan war.
“My lord, king of us all!” Odysseus cried. “You are here!”
As soon as he had tasted the sheep’s blood, Agamemnon recognized Odysseus. He tried to lift his arms to embrace him, but there was little strength or power left in his ghostly being.
Odysseus wept tears of pity. Until now he had not known that Agamemnon had died. Now they sat and talked with one another—the living man on one side of the trench, and the ghost of the mighty king on the other.
“What fate brought you here?” asked Odysseus. “Did you drown in a terrible storm at sea? Did an enemy strike you down in some great fight?”
Agamemnon told Odysseus that he had been slain by his own queen.
“But you will not meet the same end, Odysseus,” the ghost of Agamemnon assured him. “Your wife, Penelope, is loyal to you. She is a most admirable woman. When you left her, she was little more than a girl. When you return, she and your son will be waiting to embrace you and work with you on your farm.”
As Odysseus and the spirit of Agamemnon sat weeping and talking, the ghosts of warriors came and sat with them, warriors who had fought valiantly in the Trojan war. Among them was great Achilles, the bravest of all the Greeks.
“Odysseus, what a daring thing you do now,” said Achilles. “Why have you traveled here to be with the ghosts of the dead?”
Odysseus told Achilles and the others about his journey and how he had come to meet with the ghost of Tiresias. He praised Achilles, calling him a prince among the dead.
“Ah, perhaps,” said Achilles, “but I would rather be a poor man’s servant in the world of the living than a king of kings in the Land of the Dead.”
The ghosts of other dead warriors each told Odysseus their sad tales. And to each ghost, Odysseus gave news about the living.
Then Odysseus saw Tantalus, a king whose great pride had angered the gods. Their punishment for him was eternal hunger and thirst. Tantalus was forced to stand in water up to his chin, with fruit trees drooping overhead, their branches laden with pears, apples, and figs.
Whenever Tantalus lowered his head to drink the water, the water dried up. When he reached up to clutch the fruit, the wind blew the branches into the air.
Next Odysseus saw Sisyphus, a cruel king whom the gods had condemned to forever roll a huge rock uphill. Every time Sisyphus reached the top of the hill, the rock rolled back down the slope, and Sisyphus had to start all over again.
Odysseus then saw the mighty Heracles. The great warrior stared into the distance, holding his bow in his hands, his arrow on the string. For all time he would stand poised to take aim.
As Odysseus looked through the mist for the spirits of more heroes, he saw that thousands of ghosts were moving slowly toward him. Their voices were soft at first. Then they grew louder and louder. The spirits were crowding close around Odysseus, crying out for his help.
Odysseus felt a wave of panic. In terror, he turned and fled from the spirits of the dead. His men followed him back through Persephone’s grove until they came to their ship.
Odysseus led the way on board and ordered the Greeks to set sail at once.
The men rowed swiftly across the river of Oceanus. They kept rowing until they felt a breeze and opened their sails.
As dawn’s rosy light glittered on the wine-dark sea, Odysseus finally caught his breath. His mind roamed over the past year—the nightmare of the cannibal giants, the long stay in Circe’s palace, and his visit to the haunted realm of Hades and Persephone.
Odysseus grieved for his dead mother and felt more anxious than ever to see his father before the old man also died. More than anything, he longed to be reunited with his loving wife and son before harm came to them.
Odysseus’ heart ached almost more than he could bear. Still, he rejoiced that he was in the world of the living and not trapped forever in the dark Land of the Dead.
Book Three
SIRENS AND SEA MONSTERS
ONE
THE LAND OF THE LIVING
Thousands of wailing ghosts moved toward Odysseus. Their anguished cries echoed through the fog. Odysseus and his men began to run. They ran for their lives, fleeing from the dead….
“Land ahead!” one of Odysseus’ men called.
Odysseus woke from his nightmare. He had fallen asleep on the deck of his ship. He had been dreaming of his visit to the spirit world ruled by Hades and Persephone. Now in the distance he could see the island of Circe, the enchantress.
I will tell Circe all that I saw and heard in the Land of the Dead, he thought. Then surely she will help us find our way home to Ithaca.
For twelve long years, Odysseus had yearned to return to the Greek island of Ithaca and be reunited with his beloved wife and son. During that time, he and his men had fought in the Trojan War. They had battled the Cyclops, a one-eyed monster. They had escaped cannibal giants, losing all but one of their ships. Odysseus had charmed the wily enchantress Circe, and he and his men had now survived a journey to the Land of the Dead—a journey from which no mortal had ever before returned alive.
As they sailed now toward Circe’s sunlit island, the Greeks cheered. The island was covered with beautiful green forests and ringed by rocky shores.
Birds sang in the trees as the Greeks anchored their ship. But as the sun went down and they dragged themselves ashore, a great weariness overtook them. Each man collapsed to the sand, too exhausted to speak.
Lying on the cool beach, Odysseus stared up at the moon and stars. He pushed away all his memories of the Land of the Dead. He felt the soft breezes and listened to the waves lap the shore. The world of the living seemed an extraordinary place indeed.
As rosy-fingered dawn spread over the island, Odysseus opened his eyes.
He saw Circe emerge from her palace. She was dressed in a beautiful gown of rainbow colors. Her handmaidens trailed behind her in the fresh morning air, carrying trays of meat, bread, and wine.
Odysseus jumped to his feet and awakened his men. Then he hurried to greet the goddess. Though the enchantress had once tried
to harm him and his men, she was now their friend and protector.
“Greetings!” Odysseus called.
“Welcome, my brave friends!” said Circe, smiling. “You have done what no other mortals have ever done. You have traveled to the Land of the Dead and returned. When you die, others will say that you have died twice.”
“Yes, we are grateful to the gods for our safe journey back to your island,” Odysseus said. “We pray that you will now help us find our way home to Ithaca.”
“Indeed I will,” said Circe. “But today you must rest, for you have a long, hard voyage ahead of you. Feast and drink and celebrate your return. Then tomorrow, when the dawn breaks, you shall set sail for Ithaca.”
The men cheered. They were famished and thirsty and delighted to spend the day in the company of Circe and her lovely handmaidens.
All morning and all afternoon, Odysseus and his men feasted and drank wine. When the sun finally set and darkness covered the island, the men lay down in the hollow of their ship and fell fast sleep.
Odysseus himself did not rest. Circe took him by the hand and led him into the moonlit forest. Together they sat in the shadows beneath a towering oak.
“Tell me of your journey, Odysseus,” Circe said. “What did you see in the Land of the Dead? What did you learn there?”
Odysseus told Circe about his journey to the gray kingdom of Hades and Persephone, rulers of the dead. He told her about the spirits who had come forth, begging for blood so they might be restored to life.
“Among them was my mother,” he said sorrowfully. “She died of grief waiting for me to come home to Ithaca. She told me that my father and my wife and son still ache for my return.
“I spoke also with my friend Achilles, who was slain in the Trojan War. I spoke with the High King, Agamemnon. I saw Heracles, Sisyphus, and Tantalus. Finally I spoke with the blind prophet, Tiresias.”
“And what did the prophet tell you?” asked Circe.
“He gave me wise counsel and warnings,” said Odysseus. “This is what he said: ‘On your way home, you will pass the island of the sun god. On this island there are many beautiful sheep and cattle. Do not let your men touch even one of these creatures. They are much adored by the sun. Anyone who tries to slay them will meet his doom. You alone might escape. But if you do, you will be a broken man. You will find great trouble in your house.’”
Circe sighed. “Yes, those are wise words,” she said. “But before you reach the island of the sun god, you must brave other dangers. Listen to me carefully, Odysseus, for I am about to speak of terrible things. But do exactly as I say, and you and your men will find your way home.”
TWO
CIRCE’S WARNINGS
“Odysseus, can you bear to hear what I have to say?” Circe asked him. “Are you prepared to know of the horrors that await you on your journey?”
Odysseus nodded. What could be more horrible than the Cyclops, or the cannibal giants—or even the spell Circe herself had once cast on his men, turning them into swine?
Circe began: “Soon after you leave my island, you will come upon the island of the Sirens. The Sirens are beautiful women. From a field of flowers, they sing to all sailors who pass their shores.”
Odysseus almost laughed. “What threat could these women possibly be to me and my men?” he asked.
“Any sailor who hears the song of the Sirens will forget his homeland, his wife, and his children,” said Circe. “The Sirens’ lovely singing will lure him to a watery death.”
Odysseus smiled and shook his head. He could not believe a simple song could have such power.
“Heed my warning, Odysseus!” said Circe. “The Sirens’ shores are littered with the bones of sailors driven mad by their song. You must make your crew plug their ears with beeswax, so none will be able to hear. Else you will all perish!”
“I will order them to do so,” Odysseus agreed. “But I myself will listen. I do not believe my will to return home can be broken by a song.”
“Then you alone may hear the Sirens,” said Circe. “But first your men must tie your hands and your feet to the mast of the ship, or you will surely hurl yourself into the sea. Tell your men that even if you plead with them to loosen your bonds, they must not. Will you swear to do that?”
Odysseus nodded.
“Once you have sailed past the Sirens, you will see two sea paths,” said Circe. “One path will lead you between the Wandering Rocks. The Wandering Rocks are gigantic boulders that pound against one another with terrific fury. No living thing—not even a dove on her way to Zeus—can pass between them without being crushed.
“The waves that foam about the Wandering Rocks are filled with the wreckage of ships and the bodies of sailors. Only Jason and his Argonauts have survived them, but that was because the goddess Hera loved Jason and protected him.”
“I fear we cannot depend upon protection from the gods,” said Odysseus. “Tell me, Circe, what is the other path?”
“The other path leads between two sea cliffs,” said Circe. “One cliff is quite low. There, under a great fig tree, dwells the deadly whirlpool monster, Charybdis. Any ship that sails near Charybdis is sucked to the black bottom of the sea. Even Poseidon himself cannot save mortal sailors from the monster whirlpool.”
“And what of the other cliff?” asked Odysseus. “What danger lies on its shore?”
“High on the side of the second cliff is a dark cave,” said Circe. “In the cave dwells the monster Scylla. She yelps like a small hound. But in truth she is a terrible beast. Even the gods and goddesses cannot look upon her without being sickened.”
“Why is she so terrible?” asked Odysseus.
“Scylla is a monster with six huge, hideous heads,” said Circe. “Her six mouths are filled with razor-sharp teeth. In an instant, the monster can devour six men. All day, Scylla sits inside her cave, gazing greedily over the sea with her twelve eyes. Whenever a ship sails by, she strikes with all her heads and snatches six sailors from the deck. In no time, she rips her poor victims to pieces.”
Odysseus stared at the enchantress. “Then the choice you give me is impossible,” he said. “Either we are drowned by the whirlpool monster or we die in the jaws of the six-headed beast.”
“The choice is this,” Circe said. “If you sail close to the monster whirlpool, you will all die. But if you sail close to Scylla, only six will be lost.”
Odysseus closed his eyes. He had already seen dozens of his men die hideous deaths. Some had been eaten by the monstrous Cyclops. Others had been speared alive by cannibal giants. How could he bear to see more slaughtered?
“I counsel you to take the course that leads past the monster Scylla,” said Circe. “Do not try to fight her. You will lose six men. But if you sail swiftly enough past the monster, you will lose only six. The rest will have a chance to escape.”
Odysseus was silent for a moment. He could hardly bear to follow Circe’s counsel. “How can I knowingly sacrifice my men to such a hideous death?” he asked. “How can I choose which six will die?”
“It is not in your power to choose who shall die,” said Circe. “The monster will make the choice for you. Perhaps she will even choose you.”
Odysseus shook his head. “No. I will kill her before she touches any of us,” he said.
“Do not be so proud, Odysseus!” Circe said. “You are only a mortal. No mortal—not even you—can defeat Scylla. While you waste time attacking her with your sword, she will devour another six men.
“You must row your ship at full speed! And shout a prayer to Scylla’s mother, asking for help. Only she can stop her savage daughter from devouring more men.”
Before Odysseus could protest further, Circe went on.
“If you escape from the monster, it will be time to heed the warnings of Tiresias,” Circe said. “For soon you will come to the island of Helios, the sun god. There you will see seven herds of cattle and seven flocks of sheep.
“There are fifty beasts in
each herd. They are tended by two fair nymphs, daughters of Helios. The sheep and cattle never give birth. They never die. But if any of your men so much as touches them, all your crew will perish. You yourself might escape, but you will have a sad and terrible time when you return home to your island. Your wife and son will suffer also.”
Odysseus stood up. The thought that his family might be in danger kindled his desire to start for home at once. “Thank you for your help,” he said to Circe. “I promise to heed your warnings.”
“Good,” she said. “I have told you all that you need to know. Your path will be dangerous indeed. But if you do as I say, you will find your way home. Go now, for the dawn is almost upon us.”
Odysseus looked around at the forest. A misty golden-pink light filtered through the trees. A breeze made the leaves quiver and dance. Birds began to sing.
When Odysseus turned back to the enchantress, she was gone.
“Circe!” he called.
She did not answer. She had slipped away into the dawn’s rosy light.
THREE
SONG OF THE SIRENS
Odysseus was eager to set sail. As he hurried back to the shore, Circe’s words echoed in his ears: Your path will be dangerous indeed. But if you do as I say, you will find your way home.
Odysseus boarded his ship and commanded his men to cast off at once.
The Greeks stumbled from their sleep and took their places at the oars of the black vessel. As Odysseus was about to raise anchor, Circe’s handmaidens appeared on the beach. They carried food and wine for the voyage.
The men happily loaded their gifts onto the ship. Then they bade farewell to the fair maidens and pushed off from the shore.
As the ship sailed away from land, Odysseus stared wistfully at the island of the mysterious enchantress. For the past twelve months, Circe had controlled his fate: she had changed his men into swine and back again. She had sent him on an unfathomable journey into the Land of the Dead. She had armed him with prophecies and warnings for his dangerous voyage home.
Tales from the Odyssey, Part 1 Page 5
